,were ,i to pray for a taste which      
should stand me in stead under every    
variety of circumstances1 and be a      
source of happiness and cheerfulness to 
me during life1 and a shield against its
 ills1 however things might go amiss and
 the world frown upon me1 it would he a 
taste for reading4444 ,give a man this  
taste1 and the means of gratifying it1  
and you can hardly fail of making him a 
happy man2 unless1 indeed1 you put into 
his hands a most perverse selection of  
,books4 ,you place him in contact with  
the best society in every period of     
history1--with the wisest1 the wittiest1
 the tenderest1 the bravest1 and the    
purest characters who have adorned      
humanity4 ,you make him a denizen of all
 nations1 a contemporary of all ages4   
,the world has been created for         
him4--,,sir ,,john ,,herschel4 ,address 
on the opening of the ,eton ,library1   
#ahcc4   ,,lectures ,,on ,,dramatic     
,,art ,,and ,,literature  ,,by ,,august 
,,wilhelm ,,schlegel4     ,,contents4   

,preface of the ,translator4  ,author's 
,preface4  ,memoir of the ,life of      
,augustus ,william ,schlegel4  ,,lecture
 ,i4  ,introduction--,spirit of ,true   
,criticism--,difference of ,taste       
between the ,ancients and               
,moderns--,classical and ,romantic      
,poetry and ,art--,division of ,dramatic
 ,literature2 the ,ancients1 their      
,imitators1 and the ,romantic ,poets4   
,,lecture ,,ii4  ,definition of the     
,drama--,view of the ,theatres of all   
,nations--,theatrical                   
,effect--,importance of the             
,stage--,principal ,species of the      
,drama4  ,,lecture ,,iii4  ,essence of  
,tragedy and ,comedy--,earnestness and  
,sport--,how far it is possible to      
become acquainted with the ,ancients    
without knowing ,original               
,languages--,winkelmann4  ,,lecture     
,,iv4  ,structure of the ,stage among   
the ,greeks--,their ,acting--,use of    
,masks--,false comparison of ,ancient   
,tragedy to the ,opera--,tragical ,lyric

 ,poetry4  ,,lecture ,v4  ,essence of   
the ,greek ,tragedies--,ideality of the 
,representation--,idea of ,fate--,source
 of the ,pleasure derived from ,tragical
 ,representations--,import of the       
,chorus--,the materials of ,greek       
,tragedy derived from ,mythology--      
,comparison with the ,plastic ,arts4    
,,lecture ,,vi4  ,progress of the       
,tragic ,art among the ,greeks--,various
 styles of ,tragic ,art                 
--,aeschylus--,connexion in a ,trilogy  
of ,aeschylus--,his remaining ,works4   
,,lecture ,,vii4  ,life and ,political  
,character of ,sophocles--,character of 
his different ,tragedies4  ,,lecture    
,,viii4  ,euripides--,his ,merits and   
,defects--,decline of ,tragic ,poetry   
through him4  ,,lecture ,,ix4           
,comparison between the ,choephorae of  
,aeschylus1 the ,electra of ,sophocles1 
and that of ,euripides4  ,,lecture ,x4  
,character of the remaining ,works of   
,euripides--,the ,satirical ,drama--    
,alexandrian ,tragic ,poets4  ,,lecture 

,,xi4  ,the ,old ,comedy proved to be   
completely a contrast to                
,tragedy--,parody-- ,ideality of ,comedy
 the reverse of that of                 
,tragedy--,mirthful ,caprice--          
,allegoric and ,political               
,signification--,the ,chorus and its    
,parabases4  ,,lecture ,,xii4           
,aristophanes--,his ,character as an    
,artist--,description and ,character of 
his remaining ,works--,a ,scene1        
translated from the ,acharnae1 by way of
 ,appendix4  ,,lecture ,,xiii4  ,whether
 the ,middle ,comedy was a distinct     
species--,origin of the ,new ,comedy--,a
 mixed species--,its prosaic            
character--,whether versification is    
essential to ,comedy--,subordinate      
kinds--,pieces of ,character1 and of    
,intrigue--,the ,comic of observation1  
of self-consciousness1 and arbitrary    
,comic--,morality of ,comedy4  ,,lecture
 ,,xiv4  ,plautus and ,terence as       
,imitators of the ,greeks1 here examined
 and characterized in the absence of the

 ,originals they copied--,motives of the
 ,athenian ,comedy from ,manners and    
,society--,portrait-,statues of two     
,comedians4  ,,lecture ,,xv4  ,roman    
,theatre--,native kinds3 ,atellane      
,fables1 ,mimes1 ,comoedia ,togata--    
,greek ,tragedy transplanted to         
,rome--,tragic ,authors of a former     
,epoch1 and of the ,augustan ,age--,idea
 of a ,national ,roman ,tragedy--,causes
 of the want of success of the ,romans  
in ,tragedy--,seneca4  ,,lecture ,,xvi4 
,the ,italians--,pastoral ,dramas of    
,tasso and ,guarini--,small progress in 
,tragedy--,metastasio and               
,alfieri--,character of both--,comedies 
of ,ariosto1 ,aretin1                   
,porta--,improvisatore                  
,masks--,goldoni--,gozzi--,latest state4
  ,,lecture ,,xvii4  ,antiquities of the
 ,french ,stage--,influence of          
,aristotle and the ,imitation of the    
,ancients--,investigation of the ,three 
,unities--,what is ,unity of            
,action8--,unity of ,time--,was it      

observed by the ,greeks8--,unity of     
,place as connected with it4  ,,lecture 
,,xviii4  ,mischief resulting to the    
,french ,stage from too narrow          
,interpretation of the ,rules of        
,unity--,influence of these rules on    
,french ,tragedy--,manner of treating   
,mythological and ,historical           
,materials--,idea of ,tragical          
,dignity-- ,observation of ,conventional
 ,rules--,false ,system of ,expositions4
  ,,lecture ,,xix4  ,use at first made  
of the ,spanish ,theatre by the         
,french--,general ,character of         
,corneille1 ,racine1 and                
,voltaire--,review of the principal     
,works of ,corneille and of             
,racine--,thomas ,corneille and         
,crebillon4  ,,lecture ,,xx4            
,voltaire--,tragedies on ,greek         
,subjects3 ,oedipe1 ,merope1 ,oreste--  
,tragedies on ,roman ,subjects3 ,brute1 
,mort de ,csar1 ,catiline1 ,le          
,triumvirat--,earlier ,pieces3 ,zaire1  
,alzire1 ,mahomet1 ,semiramis1 ,and     

,tancred4  ,,lecture ,,xxi4  ,french    
,comedy--,molire--,criticism of his     
,works--,scarron1 ,boursault1 ,regnard2 
,comedies in the ,time of the ,regency2 
,marivaux and ,destouches2 ,piron and   
,gresset--,later ,attempts--,the ,heroic
 ,opera3 ,quinault--,operettes and      
,vaudevilles--,diderot's attempted      
,change of the ,theatre--,the ,weeping  
,drama--,beaumarchais--,melo-,dramas--,m
erits and ,defects of the ,histrionic   
,art4  ,,lecture ,,xxii4  ,comparison of
 the ,english and ,spanish              
,theatres--,spirit of the ,romantic     
,drama--,shakspeare--,his ,age and the  
,circumstances of his ,life4  ,,lecture 
,,xxiii4  ,ignorance or ,learning of    
,shakspeare--,costume as observed by    
,shakspeare1 and how far necessary1 or  
may be dispensed with1 in the           
,drama--,shakspeare the greatest drawer 
of ,character--,vindication of the      
genuineness of his pathos--,play on     
,words--,moral                          
,delicacy--,irony-,mixture of the       

,tragic and ,comic--,the part of the    
,fool or ,clown--,shakspeare's ,language
 and ,versification4  ,,lecture ,,xxiv4 
,criticisms on ,shakspeare's ,comedies4 
,,lecture ,,xxv4  ,criticisms on        
,shakspeare's ,tragedies4  ,,lecture    
,,xxvi4  ,criticisms on ,shakspeare's   
,historical ,dramas4  ,,lecture ,,xxvii4
  ,two ,periods of the ,english         
,theatre3 the first the most            
important--,the first ,conformation of  
the ,stage1 and its ,advantages--,state 
of the ,histrionic ,art in ,shakspeare's
 ,time--,antiquities of ,dramatic       
,literature-- ,lilly1 ,marlow1          
,heywood--,ben ,jonson2 ,criticism of   
his ,works--,masques-- ,beaumont and    
,fletcher--,general ,characterization of
 these ,poets1 and ,remarks on some of  
their ,pieces--,massinger and other     
,contemporaries of ,charles ,i4         
,,lecture ,,xxviii4  ,closing of the    
,stage by the ,puritans--,revival of the
 ,stage under ,charles ,,ii4--,depravity
 of ,taste and ,morals--,dryden1 ,otway1

 and others-- ,characterization of the  
,comic ,poets from ,wycherley and       
,congreve to the ,middle of the         
,eighteenth ,century--,tragedies of the 
same ,period--,rowe-- ,addison's        
,cato--,later ,pieces--,familiar        
,tragedy3 ,lillo--,garrick-- ,latest    
,state4  ,,lecture ,,xxix4  ,spanish    
,theatre--,its three ,periods3          
,cervantes1 ,lope de ,vega1 ,calderon-- 
,spirit of the ,spanish ,poetry in      
general--,influence of the ,national    
,history on it--,form1 and various      
,species of the ,spanish                
,drama--,decline since the beginning of 
the ,eighteenth ,century4  ,,lecture    
,,xxx4  ,origin of the ,german          
,theatre--,hans ,sachs--,gryphius--,the 
,age of ,gottsched-- ,wretched          
,imitation of the ,french--,lessing1    
,goethe1 and ,schiller--,review of their
 ,works--,their ,influence on           
,chivalrous ,dramas1 ,affecting ,dramas1
 and ,family ,pictures--,prospect for   
,futurity4     ,,preface ,,of ,,the     

,,translator4   ,the ,lectures of ,a4   
,w4 ,,schlegel on ,dramatic ,poetry have
 obtained high celebrity on the         
,continent1 and been much alluded to of 
late in several publications in this    
country4 ,the boldness of his attacks on
 rules which are considered as sacred by
 the ,french critics1 and on works of   
which the ,french nation in general have
 long been proud1 called forth a more   
than ordinary degree of indignation     
against his work in ,france4 ,it was    
amusing enough to observe the hostility 
carried on against him in the ,parisian 
,journals4 ,the writers in these        
,journals found it much easier to       
condemn ,m4 ,,schlegel than to refute   
him3 they allowed that what he said was 
very ingenious1 and had a great         
appearance of truth2 but still they said
 it was not truth4 ,they never1 however1
 as far as ,i could observe1 thought    
proper to grapple with him1 to point out
 anything unfounded in his premises1 or 
illogical in the conclusions which he   

drew from them2 they generally confined 
themselves to mere assertions1 or to    
minute and unimportant observations by  
which the real question was in no manner
 affected4  ,in this country the work   
will no doubt meet with a very different
 reception4 ,here we have no want of    
scholars to appreciate the value of his 
views of the ancient drama2 and it will 
be no disadvantage to him1 in our eyes1 
that he has been unsparing in his attack
 on the literature of our enemies4 ,it  
will hardly fail to astonish us1        
however1 to find a stranger better      
acquainted with the brightest poetical  
ornament of this country than any of    
ourselves2 and that the admiration of   
the ,english nation for ,shakspeare     
should first obtain a truly enlightened 
interpreter in a critic of ,germany4    
,it is not for me1 however1 to enlarge  
on the merits of a work which has       
already obtained so high a reputation4  
,i shall better consult my own advantage
 in giving a short extract from the     

animated account of ,m4 ,,schlegel',s   
,lectures in the late work on ,germany  
by ,madame de ,stal3--  ,w4 ,,schlegel  
has given a course of ,dramatic         
,literature at ,vienna1 which comprises 
every thing remarkable that has been    
composed for the theatre1 from the time 
of the ,grecians to our own days4 ,it is
 not a barren nomenclature of the works 
of the various authors3 he seizes the   
spirit of their different sorts of      
literature with all the imagination of a
 poet4 ,we are sensible that to produce 
such consequences extraordinary studies 
are required3 but learning is not       
perceived in this work1 except by his   
perfect knowledge of the chefs-d'oeuvre 
of composition4 ,in a few pages we reap 
the fruit of the labour of a whole life2
 every opinion formed by the author1    
every epithet given to the writers of   
whom he speaks1 is beautiful and just1  
concise and animated4 ,he has found the 
art of treating the finest pieces of    
poetry as so many wonders of nature1 and

 of painting them in lively colours1    
which do not injure the justness of the 
outline2 for we cannot repeat too often1
 that imagination1 far from being an    
enemy to truth1 brings it forward more  
than any other faculty of the mind2 and 
all those who depend upon it as an      
excuse for indefinite terms or          
exaggerated expressions1 are at least as
 destitute of poetry as of good sense4  
,an analysis of the principles on which 
both ,tragedy and ,comedy are founded1  
is treated in this course with much     
depth of philosophy4 ,this kind of merit
 is often found among the ,german       
writers2 but ,,schlegel has no equal in 
the art of inspiring his own admiration2
 in general1 be shows himself attached  
to a simple taste1 sometimes bordering  
on rusticity2 but he deviates from his  
usual opinions in favour of the         
inhabitants of the ,south4 ,their play  
on words is not the object of his       
censure2 he detests the affectation     
which owes its existence to the spirit  

of society3 but that which is excited by
 the luxury of imagination pleases him1 
in poetry1 as the profusion of colours  
and perfumes would do in nature4        
,,schlegel1 after having acquired a     
great reputation by his translation of  
,shakspeare1 became also enamoured of   
,calderon1 but with a very different    
sort of attachment from that with which 
,shakspeare had inspired him2 for while 
the ,english author is deep and gloomy  
in his knowledge of the human heart1 the
 ,spanish poet gives himself up with    
pleasure and delight to the beauty of   
life1 to the sincerity of faith1 and to 
all the brilliancy of those virtues     
which derive their colouring from the   
sunshine of the soul4  ,i was at ,vienna
 when ,w4 ,,schlegel gave his public    
course of ,lectures4 ,i expected only   
good sense and instruction1 where the   
object was merely to convey information3
 ,i was astonished to hear a critic as  
eloquent as an orator1 and who1 far from
 falling upon defects1 which are the    

eternal food of mean and little         
jealousy1 sought only the means of      
reviving a creative genius4  ,thus far  
,madame de ,stal4 ,in taking upon me to 
become the interpreter of a work of this
 description to my countrymen1 ,i am    
aware that ,i have incurred no slight   
degree of responsibility4 ,how ,i have  
executed my task it is not for me to    
speak1 but for the reader to judge4     
,this much1 however1 ,i will say1--that 
,i have always endeavoured to discover  
the true meaning of the author1 and that
 ,i believe ,i have seldom mistaken it4 
,those who are best acquainted with the 
psychological riches of the ,german     
language1 will be the most disposed to  
look on my labour with an eye of        
indulgence4     ,,author',s ,,preface4  
,from the size of the present work1 it  
will not be expected that it should     
contain either a course of ,dramatic    
,literature bibliographically complete1 
or a history of the theatre compiled    
with antiquarian accuracy4 ,of books    

containing dry accounts and lists of    
names there are already enough4 ,my     
purpose was to give a general view1 and 
to develope those ideas which ought to  
guide us in our estimate of the value of
 the dramatic productions of various    
ages and nations4  ,the greatest part of
 the following ,lectures1 with the      
exception of a few observations of a    
secondary nature1 the suggestion of the 
moment1 were delivered orally as they   
now appear in print4 ,the only          
alteration consists in a more commodious
 distribution1 and here and there in    
additions1 where the limits of the time 
prevented me from handling many matters 
with uniform minuteness4 ,this may      
afford a compensation for the animation 
of oral delivery which sometimes throws 
a veil over deficiencies of expression1 
and always excites a certain degree of  
expectation4  ,i delivered these        
,lectures1 in the spring of #ahjh1 at   
,vienna1 to a brilliant audience of     
nearly three hundred individuals of both

 sexes4 ,the inhabitants of ,vienna have
 long been in the habit of refuting the 
injurious descriptions which many       
writers of the ,north of ,germany have  
given of that capital1 by the kindest   
reception of all learned men and artists
 belonging to these regions1 and by the 
most disinterested zeal for the credit  
of our national literature1 a zeal which
 a just sensibility has not been able to
 cool4 ,i found here the cordiality of  
better times united with that amiable   
animation of the ,south1 which is often 
denied to our ,german seriousness1 and  
the universal diffusion of a keen taste 
for intellectual amusement4 ,to this    
circumstance alone ,i must attribute it 
that not a few of the men who hold the  
most important places at court1 in the  
state1 and in the army1 artists and     
literary men of merit1 women of the     
choicest social cultivation1 paid me not
 merely an occasional visit1 but devoted
 to me an uninterrupted attention4      
,with joy ,i seize this fresh           

opportunity of laying my gratitude at   
the feet of the benignant monarch who1  
in the permission to deliver these      
,lectures communicated to me by way of  
distinction immediately from his own    
hand1 gave me an honourable testimony of
 his gracious confidence1 which ,i as a 
foreigner who had not the happiness to  
be born under his sceptre1 and merely   
felt myself bound as a ,german and a    
citizen of the world to wish him every  
blessing and prosperity1 could not      
possibly have merited4  ,many           
enlightened patrons and zealous         
promoters of everything good and        
becoming have merited my gratitude for  
the assistance which they gave to my    
undertaking1 and the encouragement which
 they afforded me during its execution4 
,the whole of my auditors rendered my   
labour extremely agreeable by their     
indulgence1 their attentive             
participation1 and their readiness to   
distinguish1 in a feeling manner1 every 
passage which seemed worthy of their    

applause4  ,it was a flattering moment1 
which ,i shall never forget1 when1 in   
the last hour1 after ,i had called up   
recollections of the old ,german renown 
sacred to every one possessed of true   
patriotic sentiment1 and when the minds 
of my auditors were thus more solemnly  
attuned1 ,i was at last obliged to take 
my leave powerfully agitated by the     
reflection that our recent relation1    
founded on a common love for a nobler   
mental cultivation1 would be so soon    
dissolved1 and that ,i should never     
again see those together who were then  
assembled around me4 ,a general emotion 
was perceptible1 excited by so much that
 ,i could not say1 but respecting which 
our hearts understood each other4 ,in   
the mental dominion of thought and      
poetry1 inaccessible to worldly power1  
the ,germans1 who are separated in so   
many ways from each other1 still feel   
their unity3 and in this feeling1 whose 
interpreter the writer and orator must  
be1 amidst our clouded prospects we may 

still cherish the elevating presage of  
the great and immortal calling of our   
people1 who from time immemorial have   
remained unmixed in their present       
habitations4  ,,geneva1 ,february1      
#ahji4   ,,observation ,,prefixed ,,to  
,,part ,,of ,,the ,,work ,,printed ,,in 
#ahaa4  ,the declaration in the ,preface
 that these ,lectures were1 with some   
additions1 printed as they were         
delivered1 is in so far to be corrected1
 that the additions in the second part  
are much more considerable than in the  
first4 ,the restriction1 in point of    
time in the oral delivery1 compelled me 
to leave more gaps in the last half than
 in the first4 ,the part respecting     
,shakspeare and the ,english theatre1 in
 particular1 has been1 almost altogether
 re-written4 ,i have been prevented1    
partly by the want of leisure and partly
 by the limits of the work1 from        
treating of the ,spanish theatre with   
that fulness which its importance       
deserves4     ,,memoir ,,of ,,the       

,,literary ,,life ,,of ,,augustus       
,,william ,,von ,,schlegel   ,,augustus 
,,william ,,von ,,schlegel1 the author  
of the following ,lectures1 was1 with   
his no-less distinguished brother1      
,frederick1 the son of ,john ,adolph    
,schlegel1 a native of ,saxony1 and     
descended from a noble family4 ,holding 
a high appointment in the ,lutheran     
church1 ,adolph ,schlegel distinguished 
himself as a religious poet1 and was the
 friend and associate of ,rabener1      
,gellert1 and ,klopstock4 ,celebrated   
for his eloquence in the pulpit1 and    
strictly diligent in the performance of 
his religious duties1 he died in #agib1 
leaving an example to his children which
 no doubt had a happy influence on them4
  ,of these1 the seventh1 ,augustus     
,william1 was born in ,hanover1         
,september #eth1 #agfg4 ,in his early   
childhood1 he evinced a genuine         
susceptibility for all that was good and
 noble2 and this early promise of a     
generous and virtuous disposition was   

carefully nurtured by the religious     
instruction of his mother1 an amiable   
and highly-gifted woman4 ,of this       
parent's pious and judicious teaching1  
,augustus ,william had to the end of his
 days a grateful remembrance1 and he    
cherished for her throughout life a     
sincere and affectionate esteem1 whose  
ardour neither time nor distance could  
diminish4 ,the filial affection of her  
favourite son soothed the declining     
years of his mother1 and lightened the  
anxieties with which the critical and   
troubled state of the times alarmed her 
old age4 ,his further education was     
carried on by a private tutor1 who      
prepared him for the grammar-school at  
,hanover1 where he was distinguished    
both for his unremitting application1 to
 which he often sacrificed the hours of 
leisure and recreation1 and for the     
early display of a natural gift for     
language1 which enabled him immediately 
on the close of his academic career to  
accept a tutorial appointment1 which    

demanded of its holder a knowledge not  
only of the classics but also of        
,english and ,french4 ,he also displayed
 at a very early age a talent for       
poetry1 and some of his juvenile        
extempore effusions were remarkable for 
their easy versification and rhythmical 
flow4 ,in his eighteenth year he was    
called upon to deliver in the ,lyceum of
 his native city1 the anniversary       
oration in honour of a royal birthday4  
,his address on this occasion excited an
 extraordinary sensation both by the    
graceful elegance of the style and the  
interest of the matter1 written in      
hexameters4 ,it embraced a short history
 of poetry in ,germany1 and was relieved
 and animated with many judicious and   
striking illustrations from the earliest
 ,teutonic poets4  ,he now proceeded to 
the ,university of ,gttingen as a       
student of theology1 which science1     
however1 he shortly abandoned for the   
more congenial one of philology4 ,the   
propriety of this charge he amply       

attested by his ,essay on the ,geography
 of ,homer1 which displayed both an     
intelligent and comprehensive study of  
this difficult branch of classical      
archaeology4  ,at ,gttingen he lived in 
the closest intimacy with ,heyne1 for   
whose ,virgil1 in #aghh he completed an 
index2 he also became acquainted with   
the celebrated ,michaelis4 ,it was here 
too that he formed the friendship of    
,brger1 to whose ,academie der ,schnen  
,redeknste1 he contributed his ,ariadne1
 and an essay on ,dante4 ,the kindred   
genius of ,brger favourably influenced  
his own mind and tastes1 and moved him  
to make the first known attempt to      
naturalize the ,italian sonnet in       
,germany4  ,towards the end of his      
university career he combined his own   
studies with the private instruction of 
a rich young ,englishman1 born in the   
,east ,indies1 and at the close of it   
accepted the post of tutor to the only  
son of ,herr ,muilmann1 the celebrated  
,banker of ,amsterdam4 ,in this         

situation he gained universal respect   
and esteem1 but after three years he    
quitted it to enter upon a wider sphere 
of literary activity4 ,on his return to 
his native country he was elected       
,professor in the ,university of ,jena4 
,schlegel's residence in this place1    
which may truly be called the classic   
soil of ,german literature1 as it gained
 him the acquaintance of his eminent    
contemporaries ,schiller and ,goethe1   
marks a decisive epoch in the formation 
of his intellectual character4 ,at this 
date he contributed largely to the      
,horen1 and also to ,schiller's         
,musen-,almanach1 and down to #agii was 
one of the most fertile writers in the  
,allgemeinen ,literatur-,zeitung of     
,jena4 ,it was here1 also1 that he      
commenced his translations of           
,shakspeare1 7#i vols41 ,berlin1        
#agig-ahaj17 which produced a salutary  
effect on the taste and judgment of his 
countrymen1 and also on ,dramatic ,art  
and theatrical representation in        

,germany4 ,notwithstanding the          
favourable reception of this work he    
subsequently abandoned it1 and on the   
publication of a new edition1 in #ahbe1 
he cheerfully consigned to ,tieck the   
revision of his own labours1 and the    
completion of the yet untranslated      
pieces4  ,continuing attached to the    
,university of ,jena1 where the dignity 
of ,professorship was associated with   
that of ,member of the ,council1 he now 
commenced a course of lectures on       
,aesthetics1 and joined his brother     
,frederick in the editorship of the     
,athenaeum1 7#c vols41 ,berlin1         
#agif-ahjj17 an ,aesthetico-critical    
journal1 intended1 while observing a    
rigorous but an impartial spirit of     
criticism1 to discover and foster every 
grain of a truly vital development of   
mind4 ,it was also during his residence 
at ,jena that he published the first    
edition of his ,poems1 among which the  
religious pieces and the ,sonnets on    
,art were greatly admired and had many  

imitators4 ,to the latter years of his  
residence at ,jena1 which may be called 
the political portion of ,schlegel's    
literary career1 belongs the ,gate of   
,honour for the ,stage-,president       
,von-,kotzebue1 7,ehrenpforte fur den   
,theater ,prsidenten von ,kotzebue1     
#ahjj17 an ill-natured and much-        
censured satire in reply to ,kotzebue's 
attack1 entitled the ,hyperborean ,ass  
7,hyperboreischen ,esee74 ,at this time 
he also collected several of his own and
 brother ,frederick's earlier and       
occasional contributions to various     
periodicals1 and these1 together with   
the hitherto unpublished dissertations  
on ,brger's works1 make up the          
,characteristiken u ,kritiken 7#b vols41
 ,koenigsberg1 #ahja74 ,shortly         
afterwards he undertook with ,tieck the 
editorship of ,musen-,almanack for      
#ahjb4 ,the two brothers were now       
leading a truly scientific and poetic   
life1 associating and co-operating with 
many minds of a kindred spirit1 who     

gathered round ,tieck and ,novalis as   
their centre4  ,his marriage with the   
daughter of ,michaelis was not a happy  
one1 and was quickly followed by a      
separation1 upon which ,schlegel        
proceeded to ,berlin4 ,in this city1    
towards the end of #ahjb1 he delivered  
his ,lectures on the ,present ,state of 
,literature and the ,fine ,arts1 which  
were afterwards printed in the ,europa1 
under his brother's editorship4 ,the    
publication in #ahjc of his ,ion1 a     
drama in imitation of the ancients1 but 
as a composition unmarked by any        
peculiar display of vigour1 led to an   
interesting argument between himself1   
,bernhardi1 and ,schilling4 ,this       
discussion1 which extended from its     
original subject to ,euripides and      
,dramatic ,representation in general1   
was carried on in the ,journal for the  
,polite ,world 7,zeitung fur die        
elegante ,welt17 which ,schlegel        
supported by his advice and             
contributions4 ,in this periodical he   

also entered the lists in opposition to 
,kotzebue and ,merkel in the ,freimthige
 7,the ,liberal71 and the merits of the 
so-called modern school and its leaders1
 was the subject of a paper war1 waged  
with the bitterest acrimony of          
controversy1 which did not scruple to   
employ the sharpest weapons of personal 
abuse and ridicule4  ,at this date      
,schlegel was engaged upon his ,spanish 
,theatre1 7#b vols41 ,berlin1           
#ahjc-ahji74 ,in the execution of this  
work1 much was naturally demanded of the
 translator of ,shakspeare1 nor did he  
disappoint the general expectator1      
although he had here far greater        
difficulties to contend with4 ,not      
content with merely giving a faithful   
interpretation of his author's meaning1 
he laid down and strictly observed the  
law of adhering rigorously to all the   
measures1 rhythms1 and assonances of the
 original4 ,these two excellent         
translations1 in each of which he has   
brought to bear both the great command  

of his own1 and a wonderful quickness in
 catching the spirit of a foreign       
language1 have earned for ,schlegel the 
foremost place among successful and able
 translators1 while his ,flowers of     
,italian1 ,spanish1 and ,portuguese     
,poetry 7,blumenstrusse d4 ,ital4 ,span4
 u4 ,portug4 ,poesie1 ,berlin1 #ahjd71  
furnish another proof both of his skill 
in this pursuit and of the extent of his
 acquaintance with ,european literature4
 ,moreover1 the merit of having by these
 translations made ,shakspeare and      
,calderon more widely known and better  
appreciated in ,germany would1 in       
default of any other claim1 alone       
entitle him to take high rank in the    
annals of modern literature4  ,but a new
 and more important career was now open 
to him by his introduction to ,madame de
 ,stal4 ,making a tour in ,germany1 this
 distinguished woman arrived at ,berlin 
in #ahje1 and desirous of acquainting   
herself more thoroughly with ,german    
literature she selected ,schlegel to    

direct her studies of it1 and at the    
same time confided to his charge the    
completion of her children's education4 
,quitting ,berlin he accompanied this   
lady on her travels through ,italy and  
,france1 and afterwards repaired with   
her to her paternal seat at ,coppet1 on 
the ,lake of ,geneva1 which now became  
for some time his fixed abode4 ,it was  
here that in #ahjg he wrote in ,french  
his ,parallel between the ,phaedra of   
,euripides and the ,phdre of ,racine1   
which produced a lively sensation in the
 literary circles of ,paris4 ,this city 
had peculiar attractions for ,schlegel1 
both in its invaluable literary stores  
and its re-union of men of letters1     
among whom his own views and opinions   
found many enthusiastic admirers and    
partisans1 notwithstanding that in his  
critical analysis of ,racine's ,phdre he
 had presumed to attack what ,frenchmen 
deemed the chiefest glory of their      
literature1 and had mortified their     
national vanity in its most sensitive   

point4  ,in the spring of #ahjh he      
visited ,vienna1 and there read to a    
brilliant audience his ,lectures on     
,dramatic ,art and ,literature1 which1  
on their publication1 were hailed       
throughout ,europe with marked          
approbation1 and which will1            
unquestionably1 transmit his name to the
 latest posterity4 ,his object in these 
,lectures is both to take a rapid survey
 of dramatic productions of different   
ages and nations1 and to develope and   
determine the general ideas by which    
their true artistic value must be       
judged4 ,in his travels with ,madame de 
,stal he was introduced to the present  
,king1 then the ,crown ,prince1 of      
,bavaria1 who bestowed on him many marks
 of his respect and esteem1 and about   
this time he took a part in the ,german 
,museum 7,deutsche ,museum71 of his     
brother ,frederick1 contributing some   
learned and profound dissertations on   
the ,lay of the ,nibelungen4 ,in #ahab1 
when the subjugated ,south no longer    

afforded an asylum to the liberal-minded
 ,de ,stal1 with whose personal fortunes
 he felt himself inseparably linked by  
that deep feeling of esteem and         
friendship which speaks so touchingly   
and pathetically in some of his later   
poems1 he accompanied that lady on a    
visit to ,stockholm1 where he formed the
 acquaintance of the ,crown ,prince4    
,the great political events of this     
period were not without their effect on 
,schlegel's mind1 and in #ahac he came  
forward as a political writer1 when his 
powerful pen was not without its effect 
in rousing the ,german mind from the    
torpor into which it had sunk beneath   
the victorious military despotism of    
,france4 ,but he was called upon to take
 a more active part in the measures of  
these stirring times1 and in this year  
entered the service of the ,crown       
,prince of ,sweden1 as secretary and    
counsellor at head quarters4 ,for this  
,prince he had a great personal regard1 
and estimated highly both his virtues as

 a man and his talents as a general4    
,the services he rendered the ,swedish  
,prince were duly appreciated and       
rewarded1 among other marks of          
distinction by a patent of nobility1 in 
virtue of which he prefixed the ,von to 
his paternal name of ,schlegel4 ,the    
,emperor ,alexander1 of whose religious 
elevation of character he always spoke  
with admiration1 also honoured him with 
his intimacy and many tokens of esteem4 
,upon the fall of ,napoleon he returned 
to ,coppet with ,madame de ,stal1 and in
 #ahae published a second volume of his 
,poetical ,works1 7,heildelberg1        
#ahaa-ahae1 #bnd edit41 #b vols41       
#ahbj74 ,these are characterized not    
merely by the brilliancy and purity of  
the language1 but also by the variety   
and richness of the imagery4 ,among     
these the ,arion1 ,pygmalion1 and ,der  
,heilige ,lucas 7,st4 ,luke17 the       
,sonnets1 and the sublime elegy1 ,rhine1
 dedicated to ,madame de ,stal1 deserve 
especial mention1 and give him a just   

claim to a poet's crown4  ,on the death 
of his friend and patroness in #ahai1 he
 accepted the offer of a professor's    
chair in ,bonn1 where he married a      
daughter of ,professor ,paulus4 ,this   
union1 as short-lived as the first1 was 
followed by a separation in #ahbj4 ,in  
his new position of academic tutor1     
while he diligently promoted the study  
of the fine arts and sciences1 both of  
the ,ancient and the ,moderns1 he       
applied himself with peculiar ardour to 
,oriental literature1 and particularly  
to the ,sanscrit4 ,as a fruit of these  
studies1 he published his ,indian       
,library1 7#b vols41 ,bonn1 #ahbj-bf72  
he also set up a press for printing the 
great ,sanscrit work1 the ,rmjana       
7,bonn1 #ahbe74 ,he also edited the     
,sanscrit text1 with a ,latin           
translation1 of the ,bhagavad-,gita1 an 
episode of the great ,indian ,epos1 the 
,mahbhrata 7,bonn1 #ahbi74 ,about this  
period his ,oriental studies took1 him  
to ,france1 and afterwards to ,england1 

where1 in ,london and in the college    
libraries of ,oxford and ,cambridge1 and
 the ,east ,india ,college at           
,hailesbury1 he carefully examined the  
various collections of ,oriental ,,mss4 
,on his return he was appointed         
,superintendent of the ,museum of       
,antiquities1 and in #ahbg delivered at 
,berlin a course of ,lectures on the    
,theory and ,history of the ,fine ,arts1
 7,berlin1 #ahbg74 ,these were followed 
by his ,criticisms1 7,berlin1 #ahbh71   
and his ,rflexion sur l',etude des      
,langues ,asiatiques1 addressed to ,sir 
,james ,mackintosh4 ,being accused of a 
secret leaning to ,roman ,catholicism1  
7,kryptocatholicisme17 he ably defended 
himself in a reply entitled ,explication
 de quelques ,malentendus1 7,berlin1    
#ahbh47  ,a4 ,w4 ,von ,schlegel1 besides
 being a ,member of the ,legion of      
,honour1 was invested with the          
decorations of several other ,orders4   
,he wrote ,french with as much facility 
as his native language1 and many ,french

 journals were proud to number him among
 their contributors4 ,he also assisted  
,madame de ,stal in her celebrated work 
,de l',allemagne1 and superintended the 
publication of her posthumous           
,considrations sur la ,rvolution        
,franaise4  ,after this long career of  
successful literary activity1 ,a4 ,w4   
,von ,schlegel died at ,bonn1 #ab ,may1 
#ahde4 ,his death was thus noticed in   
the ,athenaeum3--  ,this illustrious    
writer was1 in conjunction with his     
brother ,frederick1 as most ,european   
readers well know1 the founder of the   
modern romantic school of ,german       
literature1 and as a critic fought many 
a hard battle for his faith4 ,the       
clearness of his insight into poetical  
and dramatic truth1 ,englishmen will    
always be apt to estimate by the fact   
that it procured for himself and for his
 countrymen the freedom of ,shakspeare's
 enchanted world1 and the taste of all  
the marvellous things that1 like the    
treasures of ,aladdin's garden1 are     

fruit and gem at once upon its immortal 
boughs3-- ,frenchmen will not readily   
forget that he disparaged ,molire4 ,the 
merit of ,schlegel's dramatic criticism 
ought not1 however1 to be thus limited4 
,englishmen themselves are deeply       
indebted to him4 ,his ,lectures1        
translated by ,black1 excited great     
interest here when first published1 some
 thirty years since1 and have worthily  
taken a permanent place in our          
libraries4  ,his collection of books1   
which was rather extensive1 and rich in 
,oriental1 especially ,sanscrit         
literature1 was sold by auction in      
,bonn1 ,december1 #ahde4 ,it appears by 
a chronological list prefixed to the    
catalogue1 that reckoning both his      
separate publications and those         
contributed to periodicals1 his printed 
works number no fewer than #abf4        
,besides these he left many unpublished 
manuscripts1 which1 says the ,athenaeum1
 he bequeathed to the celebrated        
archaeologist1 ,welcker1 professor at   

the ,royal ,university of ,bonn1 with a 
request that he would cause them to be  
published4     ,,dramatic ,,literature4 
,,lecture ,i4  ,introduction--,spirit of
 ,true ,criticism--,difference of ,taste
 between the ,ancients and              
,moderns--,classical and ,romantic      
,poetry and ,art--,division of ,dramatic
 ,literature2 the ,ancients1 their      
,imitators1 and the ,romantic ,poets4   
,the object of the present series of    
,lectures will be to combine the theory 
of ,dramatic ,art with its history1 and 
to bring before my auditors at once its 
principles and its models4  ,it belongs 
to the general philosophical theory of  
poetry1 and the other fine arts1 to     
establish the fundamental laws of the   
beautiful4 ,every art1 on the other     
hand1 has its own special theory1       
designed to teach the limits1 the       
difficulties1 and the means by which it 
must be regulated in its attempt to     
realize those laws4 ,for this purpose1  
certain scientific investigations are   

indispensable to the artist1 although   
they have but little attraction for     
those whose admiration of art is        
confined to the enjoyment of the actual 
productions of distinguished minds4 ,the
 general theory1 on the other hand1     
seeks to analyze that essential faculty 
of human nature--the sense of the       
beautiful1 which at once calls the fine 
arts into existence1 and accounts for   
the satisfaction which arises from the  
contemplation of them2 and also points  
out the relation which subsists between 
this and all other sentient and         
cognizant faculties of man4 ,to the man 
of thought and speculation1 therefore1  
it is of the highest importance1 but by 
itself alone it is quite inadequate to  
guide and direct the essays and practice
 of art4  ,now1 the history of the fine 
arts informs us what has been1 and the  
theory teaches what ought to be         
accomplished by them4 ,but without some 
intermediate and connecting link1 both  
would remain independent and separate   

from one and other1 and each by itself1 
inadequate and defective4 ,this         
connecting link is furnished by         
criticism1 which both elucidates the    
history of the arts1 and makes the      
theory fruitful4 ,the comparing         
together1 and judging of the existing   
productions of the human mind1          
necessarily throws light upon the       
conditions which are indispensable to   
the creation of original and masterly   
works of art4  ,ordinarily1 indeed1 men 
entertain a very erroneous notion of    
criticism1 and understand by it nothing 
more than a certain shrewdness in       
detecting and exposing the faults of a  
work of art4 ,as ,i have devoted the    
greater part of my life to this pursuit1
 ,i may be excused if1 by way of        
preface1 ,i seek to lay before my       
auditors my own ideas of the true genius
 of criticism4  ,we see numbers of men1 
and even whole nations1 so fettered by  
the conventions of education and habits 
of life1 that1 even in the appreciation 

of the fine arts1 they cannot shake them
 off4 ,nothing to them appears natural1 
appropriate1 or beautiful1 which is     
alien to their own language1 manners1   
and social relations4 ,with this        
exclusive mode of seeing and feeling1 it
 is no doubt possible to attain1 by     
means of cultivation1 to great nicety of
 discrimination within the narrow circle
 to which it limits and circumscribes   
them4 ,but no man can be a true critic  
or connoisseur without universality of  
mind1 without that flexibility which    
enables him1 by renouncing all personal 
predilections and blind habits1 to adapt
 himself to the peculiarities of other  
ages and nations--to feel them1 as it   
were1 from their proper central point1  
and1 what ennobles human nature1 to     
recognise and duly appreciate whatever  
is beautiful and grand under the        
external accessories which were         
necessary to its embodying1 even though 
occasionally they may seem to disguise  
and distort it4 ,there is no monopoly of

 poetry for particular ages and nations2
 and consequently that despotism in     
taste1 which would seek to invest with  
universal authority the rules which at  
first1 perhaps1 were but arbitrarily    
advanced1 is but a vain and empty       
pretension4 ,poetry1 taken in its widest
 acceptation1 as the power of creating  
what is beautiful1 and representing it  
to the eye or the ear1 is a universal   
gift of ,heaven1 being shared to a      
certain extent even by those whom we    
call barbarians and savages4 ,internal  
excellence is alone decisive1 and where 
this exists1 we must not allow ourselves
 to be repelled by the external         
appearance4 ,everything must be traced  
up to the root of human nature3 if it   
has sprung from thence1 it has an       
undoubted worth of its own2 but if1     
without possessing a living germ1 it is 
merely externally attached thereto1 it  
will never thrive nor acquire a proper  
growth4 ,many productions which appear  
at first sight dazzling phenomena in the

 province of the fine arts1 and which as
 a whole have been honoured with the    
appellation of works of a golden age1   
resemble the mimic gardens of children3 
impatient to witness the work of their  
hands1 they break off here and there    
branches and flowers1 and plant them in 
the earth2 everything at first assumes a
 noble appearance3 the childish gardener
 struts proudly up and down among his   
showy beds1 till the rootless plants    
begin to droop1 and hang their withered 
leaves and blossoms1 and nothing soon   
remains but the bare twigs1 while the   
dark forest1 on which no art or care was
 ever bestowed1 and which towered up    
towards heaven long before human        
remembrance1 bears every blast unshaken1
 and fills the solitary beholder with   
religious awe4  ,let us now apply the   
idea which we have been developing1 of  
the universality of true criticism1 to  
the history of poetry and the fine arts4
 ,this1 like the so-called universal    
history1 we generally limit 7even though

 beyond this range there may be much    
that is both remarkable and worth       
knowing7 to whatever has had a nearer or
 more remote influence on the present   
civilisation of ,europe3 consequently1  
to the works of the ,greeks and ,romans1
 and of those of the modern ,european   
nations1 who first and chiefly          
distinguished themselves in art and     
literature4 ,it is well known that1     
three centuries and a-half ago1 the     
study of ancient literature received a  
new life1 by the diffusion of the       
,grecian language 7for the ,latin never 
became extinct72 the classical authors  
were brought to light1 and rendered     
universally accessible by means of the  
press2 and the monuments of ancient art 
were diligently disinterred and         
preserved4 ,all this powerfully excited 
the human mind1 and formed a decided    
epoch in the history of human           
civilisation2 its manifold effects have 
extended to our times1 and will yet     
extend to an incalculable series of     

ages4 ,but the study of the ancients was
 forthwith most fatally perverted4 ,the 
learned1 who were chiefly in the        
possession of this knowledge1 and who   
were incapable of distinguishing        
themselves by works of their own1       
claimed for the ancients an unlimited   
authority1 and with great appearance of 
reason1 since they are models in their  
kind4 ,maintaining that nothing could be
 hoped for the human mind but from an   
imitation of antiquity1 in the works of 
the moderns they only valued what       
resembled1 or seemed to bear a          
resemblance to1 those of the ancients4  
,everything else they rejected as       
barbarous and unnatural4 ,with the great
 poets and artists it was quite         
otherwise4 ,however strong their        
enthusiasm for the ancients1 and however
 determined their purpose of entering   
into competition with them1 they were   
compelled by their independence and     
originality of mind1 to strike out a    
path of their own1 and to impress upon  

their productions the stamp of their own
 genius4 ,such was the case with ,dante 
among the ,italians1 the father of      
modern poetry2 acknowledging ,virgil for
 his master1 he has produced a work     
which1 of all others1 most differs from 
the ,aeneid1 and in our opinion far     
excels its pretended model in power1    
truth1 compass1 and profundity4 ,it was 
the same afterwards with ,ariosto1 who  
has most unaccountably been compared to 
,homer1 for nothing can be more unlike4 
,so in art with ,michael ,angelo and    
,raphael1 who had no doubt deeply       
studied the antique4 ,when we ground our
 judgment of modern painters merely on  
their greater or less resemblance to the
 ancients1 we must necessarily be unjust
 towards them1 as ,winkelmann           
undoubtedly has in the case of ,raphael4
 ,as the poets for the most part had    
their share of scholarship1 it gave rise
 to a curious struggle between their    
natural inclination and their imaginary 
duty4 ,when they sacrificed to the      

latter1 they were praised by the        
learned2 but by yielding to the former1 
they became the favourites of the       
people4 ,what preserves the heroic poems
 of a ,tasso and a ,camons to this day  
alive in the hearts and on the lips of  
their countrymen1 is by no means their  
imperfect resemblance to ,virgil1 or    
even to ,homer1 but in ,tasso the tender
 feeling of chivalrous love and honour1 
and in ,camons the glowing inspiration  
of heroic patriotism4  ,those very ages1
 nations1 and ranks1 who felt least the 
want of a poetry of their own1 were the 
most assiduous in their imitation of the
 ancients2 accordingly1 its results are 
but dull school exercises1 which at best
 excite a frigid admiration4 ,but in the
 fine arts1 mere imitation is always    
fruitless2 even what we borrow from     
others1 to assume a true poetical shape1
 must1 as it were1 be born again within 
us4 ,of what avail is all foreign       
imitation8 ,art cannot exist without    
nature1 and man can give nothing to his 

fellow-men but himself4  ,genuine       
successors and true rivals of the       
ancients1 who1 by virtue of congenial   
talents and cultivation have walked in  
their path and worked in their spirit1  
have ever been as rare as their         
mechanical spiritless copyists are      
common4 ,seduced by the form1 the great 
body of critics have been but too       
indulgent to these servile imitators4   
,these were held up as correct modern   
classics1 while the great truly living  
and popular poets1 whose reputation was 
a part of their nations' glory1 and to  
whose sublimity it was impossible to be 
altogether blind1 were at best but      
tolerated as rude and wild natural      
geniuses4 ,but the unqualified          
separation of genius and taste on which 
such a judgment proceeds1 is altogether 
untenable4 ,genius is the almost        
unconscious choice of the highest degree
 of excellence1 and1 consequently1 it is
 taste in its highest activity4  ,in    
this state1 nearly1 matters continued   

till a period not far back1 when several
 inquiring minds1 chiefly ,germans1     
endeavoured to clear up the             
misconception1 and to give the ancients 
their due1 without being insensible to  
the merits of the moderns1 although of a
 totally different kind4 ,the apparent  
contradiction did not intimidate them4  
,the groundwork of human nature is no   
doubt everywhere the same2 but in all   
our investigations1 we may observe that1
 throughout the whole range of nature1  
there is no elementary power so simple1 
but that it is capable of dividing and  
diverging into opposite directions4 ,the
 whole play of vital motion hinges on   
harmony and contrast4 ,why1 then1 should
 not this phenomenon recur on a grander 
scale in the history of man8 ,in this   
idea we have perhaps discovered the true
 key to the ancient and modern history  
of poetry and the fine arts4 ,those who 
adopted it1 gave to the peculiar spirit 
of modern art1 as contrasted with the   
antique or classical1 the name of       

romantic4 ,the term is certainly not    
inappropriate2 the word is derived from 
romance--the name originally given to   
the languages which were formed from the
 mixture of the ,latin and the old      
,teutonic dialects1 in the same manner  
as modern civilisation is the fruit of  
the heterogeneous union of the          
peculiarities of the northern nations   
and the fragments of antiquity2 whereas 
the civilisation of the ancients was    
much more of a piece4  ,the distinction 
which we have just stated can hardly    
fail to appear well founded1 if it can  
be shown1 so far as our knowledge of    
antiquity extends1 that the same        
contrast in the labours of the ancients 
and moderns runs symmetrically1 ,i might
 almost say systematically1 throughout  
every branch of art--that it is as      
evident in music and the plastic arts as
 in poetry4 ,this is a problem which1 in
 its full extent1 still remains to be   
demonstrated1 though1 on particular     
portions of it1 many excellent          

observations have been advanced already4
  ,among the foreign authors who wrote  
before this school can be said to have  
been formed in ,germany1 we may mention 
,rousseau1 who acknowledged the contrast
 in music1 and showed that rhythm and   
melody were the prevailing principles of
 ancient1 as harmony is that of modern  
music4 ,in his prejudices against       
harmony1 however1 we cannot at all      
concur4 ,on the subject of the arts of  
design an ingenious observation was made
 by ,hemsterhuys1 that the ancient      
painters were perhaps too much of       
sculptors1 and the modern sculptors too 
much of painters4 ,this is the exact    
point of difference2 for1 as ,i shall   
distinctly show in the sequel1 the      
spirit of ancient art and poetry is     
plastic1 but that of the moderns        
pcturesque4  ,by an example taken from  
another art1 that of architecture1 ,i   
shall endeavour to illustrate what ,i   
mean by this contrast4 ,throughout the  
,middle ,ages there prevailed1 and in   

the latter centuries of that aera was   
carried to perfection1 a style of       
architecture1 which has been called     
,gothic1 but ought really to have been  
termed old ,german4 ,when1 on the       
general revival of classical antiquity1 
the imitation of ,grecian architecture  
became prevalent1 and but too frequently
 without a due regard to the difference 
of climate and manners or to the purpose
 of the building1 the zealots of this   
new taste1 passing a sweeping sentence  
of condemnation on the ,gothic1         
reprobated it as tasteless1 gloomy1 and 
barbarous4 ,this was in some degree     
pardonable in the ,italians1 among whom 
a love for ancient architecture1        
cherished by hereditary remains of      
classical edifices1 and the similarity  
of their climate to that of the ,greeks 
and ,romans1 might1 in some sort1 be    
said to be innate4 ,but we ,northerns   
are not so easily to be talked out of   
the powerful1 solemn impressions which  
seize upon the mind at entering a       

,gothic cathedral4 ,we feel1 on the     
contrary1 a strong desire to investigate
 and to justify the source of this      
impression4 ,a very slight attention    
will convince us1 that the ,gothic      
architecture displays not only an       
extraordinary degree of mechanical      
skill1 but also a marvellous power of   
invention2 and1 on a closer examination1
 we recognize its profound significance1
 and perceive that as well as the       
,grecian it constitutes in itself a     
complete and finished system4  ,to the  
application6--,the ,pantheon is not more
 different from ,westminster ,abbey or  
the church of ,st4 ,stephen at ,vienna1 
than the structure of a tragedy of      
,sophocles from a drama of ,shakspeare4 
,the comparison between these wonderful 
productions of poetry and architecture  
might be carried still farther4 ,but    
does our admiration of the one compel us
 to depreciate the other8 ,may we not   
admit that each is great and admirable  
in its kind1 although the one is1 and is

 meant to be1 different from the other8 
,the experiment is worth attempting4 ,we
 will quarrel with no man for his       
predilection either for the ,grecian or 
the ,gothic4 ,the world is wide1 and    
affords room for a great diversity of   
objects4 ,narrow and blindly adopted    
prepossessions will never constitute a  
genuine critic or connoisseur1 who      
ought1 on the contrary1 to possess the  
power of dwelling with liberal          
impartiality on the most discrepant     
views1 renouncing the while all personal
 inclinations4  ,for our present object1
 the justification1 namely1 of the grand
 division which we lay down in the      
history of art1 and according to which  
we conceive ourselves equally warranted 
in establishing the same division in    
dramatic literature1 it might be        
sufficient merely to have stated this   
contrast between the ancient1 or        
classical1 and the romantic4 ,but as    
there are exclusive admirers of the     
ancients1 who never cease asserting that

 all deviation from them is merely the  
whim of a new school of critics1 who1   
expressing themselves in language full  
of mystery1 cautiously avoid conveying  
their sentiments in a tangible shape1 ,i
 shall endeavour to explain the origin  
and spirit of the romantic1 and then    
leave the world to judge if the use of  
the word1 and of the idea which it is   
intended to convey1 be thereby          
justified4  ,the mental culture of the  
,greeks was a finished education in the 
school of ,nature4 ,of a beautiful and  
noble race1 endowed with susceptible    
senses and a cheerful spirit under a    
mild sky1 they lived and bloomed in the 
full health of existence2 and1 favoured 
by a rare combination of circumstances1 
accomplished all that the finite nature 
of man is capable of4 ,the whole of     
their art and poetry is the expression  
of a consciousness of this harmony of   
all their faculties4 ,they invented the 
poetry of joy4  ,their religion was the 
deification of the powers of nature and 

of the earthly life3 but this worship1  
which1 among other nations1 clouded the 
imagination with hideous shapes1 and    
hardened the heart to cruelty1 assumed1 
among the ,greeks1 a mild1 a grand1 and 
a dignified form4 ,superstition1 too    
often the tyrant of the human faculties1
 seemed to have here contributed to     
their freest development4 ,it cherished 
the arts by which it was adorned1 and   
its idols became the models of ideal    
beauty4  ,but however highly the ,greeks
 may have succeeded in the ,beautiful1  
and even in the ,moral1 we cannot       
concede any higher character to their   
civilisation than that of a refined and 
ennobled sensuality4 ,of course this    
must be understood generally4 ,the      
conjectures of a few philosophers1 and  
the irradiations of poetical            
inspiration1 constitute an occasional   
exception4 ,man can never altogether    
turn aside his thoughts from infinity1  
and some obscure recollections will     
always remind him of the home he has    

lost2 but we are now speaking of the    
predominant tendency of his endeavours4 
,religion is the root of human          
existence4 ,were it possible for man to 
renounce all religion1 including that   
which is unconscious1 independent of the
 will1 he would become a mere surface   
without any internal substance4 ,when   
this centre is disturbed1 the whole     
system of the mental faculties and      
feelings takes a new shape4  ,and this  
is what has actually taken place in     
modern ,europe through the introduction 
of ,christianity4 ,this sublime and     
beneficent religion has regenerated the 
ancient world from its state of         
exhaustion and debasement2 it is the    
guiding principle in the history of     
modern nations1 and even at this day1   
when many suppose they have shaken off  
its authority1 they still find          
themselves much more influenced by it in
 their views of human affairs than they 
themselves are aware4  ,after           
,christianity1 the character of ,europe 

has1 since the commencement of the      
,middle ,ages1 been chiefly influenced  
by the ,germanic race of northern       
conquerors1 who infused new life and    
vigour into a degenerated people4 ,the  
stern nature of the ,north drives man   
back within himself2 and what is lost in
 the free sportive development of the   
senses1 must1 in noble dispositions1 be 
compensated by earnestness of mind4     
,hence the honest cordiality with which 
,christianity was welcomed by all the   
,teutonic tribes1 so that among no other
 race of men has it penetrated more     
deeply into the inner man1 displayed    
more powerful effects1 or become more   
interwoven with all human feelings and  
sensibilities4  ,the rough1 but honest  
heroism of the northern conquerors1 by  
its admixture with the sentiments of    
,christianity1 gave rise to chivalry1 of
 which the object was1 by vows which    
should be looked upon as sacred1 to     
guard the practice of arms from every   
rude and ungenerous abuse of force into 

which it was so likely to sink4  ,with  
the virtues of chivalry was associated a
 new and purer spirit of love1 an       
inspired homage for genuine female      
worth1 which was now revered as the acm 
of human excellence1 and1 maintained by 
religion itself under the image of a    
virgin mother1 infused into all hearts a
 mysterious sense of the purity of love4
  ,as ,christianity did not1 like the   
heathen worship1 rest satisfied with    
certain external acts1 but claimed an   
authority over the whole inward man and 
the most hidden movement of the heart2  
the feeling of moral independence took  
refuge in the domain of honour1 a       
worldly morality1 as it were1 which     
subsisting alongside of1 was often at   
variance with that of religion1 but yet 
in so far resembling it that it never   
calculated consequences1 but consecrated
 unconditionally certain principles of  
action1 which like the articles of      
faith1 were elevated far beyond the     
investigation of a casuistical          

reasoning4  ,chivalry1 love1 and honour1
 together with religion itself1 are the 
subjects of that poetry of nature which 
poured itself out in the ,middle ,ages  
with incredible fulness1 and preceded   
the more artistic cultivation of the    
romantic spirit4 ,this age had also its 
mythology1 consisting of chivalrous     
tales and legends2 but its wonders and  
its heroism were the very reverse of    
those of the ancient mythology4         
,several inquirers who1 in other        
respects1 entertain the same conception 
of the peculiarities of the moderns1 and
 trace them to the same source that we  
do1 have placed the essence of the      
northern poetry in melancholy2 and to   
this1 when properly understood1 we have 
nothing to object4  ,among the ,greeks  
human nature was in itself              
all-sufficient2 it was conscious of no  
defects1 and aspired to no higher       
perfection than that which it could     
actually attain by the exercise of its  
own energies4 ,we1 however1 are taught  

by superior wisdom that man1 through a  
grievous transgression1 forfeited the   
place for which he was originally       
destined2 and that the sole destination 
of his earthly existence is to struggle 
to regain his lost position1 which1 if  
left to his own strength1 he can never  
accomplish4 ,the old religion of the    
senses sought no higher possession than 
outward and perishable blessings2 and   
immortality1 so far as it was believed1 
stood shadow-like in the obscure        
distance1 a faint dream of this sunny   
waking life4 ,the very reverse of all   
this is the case with the ,christian    
view3 every thing finite and mortal is  
lost in the contemplation of infinity2  
life has become shadow and darkness1 and
 the first day of our real existence    
dawns in the world beyond the grave4    
,such a religion must waken the vague   
foreboding1 which slumbers in every     
feeling heart1 into a distinct          
consciousness that the happiness after  
which we are here striving is           

unattainable2 that no external object   
can ever entirely fill our souls2 and   
that all earthly enjoyment is but a     
fleeting and momentary illusion4 ,when  
the soul1 resting as it were under the  
willows of exile1 ,footnote3            
,trauerweiden der verbannung1 literally 
the weeping willows of banishment1 an   
allusion1 as every reader must know1 to 
the #acgth ,psalm4 ,linnaeus1 from this 
,psalm1 calls the weeping willow ,salix 
,babylonica4--,,trans4 breathes out its 
longing for its distant home1 what else 
but melancholy can be the key-note of   
its songs8 ,hence the poetry of the     
ancients was the poetry of enjoyment1   
and ours is that of desire3 the former  
has its foundation in the scene which is
 present1 while the latter hovers       
betwixt recollection and hope4 ,let me  
not be understood as affirming that     
everything flows in one unvarying strain
 of wailing and complaint1 and that the 
voice of melancholy is always loudly    
heard4 ,as the austerity of tragedy was 

not incompatible with the joyous views  
of the ,greeks1 so that romantic poetry 
whose origin ,i have been describing1   
can assume every tone1 even that of the 
liveliest joy2 but still it will always1
 in some indescribable way1 bear traces 
of the source from which it originated4 
,the feeling of the moderns is1 upon the
 whole1 more inward1 their fancy more   
incorporeal1 and their thoughts more    
contemplative4 ,in nature1 it is true1  
the boundaries of objects run more into 
one another1 and things are not so      
distinctly separated as we must exhibit 
them in order to convey distinct notions
 of them4  ,the ,grecian ideal of human 
nature was perfect unison and proportion
 between all the powers1--a natural     
harmony4 ,the moderns1 on the contrary1 
have arrived at the consciousness of an 
internal discord which renders such an  
ideal impossible2 and hence the         
endeavour of their poetry is to         
reconcile these two worlds between which
 we find ourselves divided1 and to blend

 them indissolubly together4 ,the       
impressions of the senses are to be     
hallowed1 as it were1 by a mysterious   
connexion with higher feelings2 and the 
soul1 on the other hand1 embodies its   
forebodings1 or indescribable intuitions
 of infinity1 in types and symbols      
borrowed from the visible world4  ,in   
,grecian art and poetry we find an      
original and unconscious unity of form  
and matter2 in the modern1 so far as it 
has remained true to its own spirit1 we 
observe a keen struggle to unite the    
two1 as being naturally in opposition to
 each other4 ,the ,grecian executed what
 it proposed in the utmost perfection2  
but the modern can only do justice to   
its endeavours after what is infinite by
 approximation2 and1 from a certain     
appearance of imperfection1 is in       
greater danger of not being duly        
appreciated4  ,it would lead us too far1
 if in the separate arts of             
architecture1 music1 and painting 7for  
the moderns have never had a sculpture  

of their own71 we should endeavour to   
point out the distinctions which we have
 here announced1 to show the contrast   
observable in the character of the same 
arts among the ancients and moderns1 and
 at the same time to demonstrate the    
kindred aim of both4  ,neither can we   
here enter into a more particular       
consideration of the different kinds and
 forms of romantic poetry in general1   
but must return to our more immediate   
subject1 which is dramatic art and      
literature4 ,the division of this1 as of
 the other departments of art1 into the 
antique and the romantic1 at once points
 out to us the course which we have to  
pursue4  ,we shall begin with the       
ancients2 then proceed to their         
imitators1 their genuine or supposed    
successors among the moderns2 and       
lastly1 we shall consider those poets of
 later times1 who1 either disregarding  
the classical models1 or purposely      
deviating from them1 have struck out a  
path for themselves4  ,of the ancient   

dramatists1 the ,greeks alone are of any
 importance4 ,in this branch of art the 
,romans were at first mere translators  
of the ,greeks1 and afterwards          
imitators1 and not always very          
successful ones4 ,besides1 of their     
dramatic labours very little has been   
preserved4 ,among modern nations an     
endeavour to restore the ancient stage1 
and1 where possible1 to improve it1 has 
been shown in a very lively manner by   
the ,italians and the ,french4 ,in other
 nations1 also1 attempts of the same    
kind1 more or less earnest1 have at     
times1 especially of late1 been made in 
tragedy2 for in comedy1 the form under  
which it appears in ,plautus and        
,terence has certainly been more        
generally prevalent4 ,of all studied    
imitations of the ancient tragedy the   
,french is the most brilliant essay1 has
 acquired the greatest renown1 and      
consequently deserves the most attentive
 consideration4 ,after the ,french come 
the modern ,italians2 viz41 ,metastasio 

and ,alfieri4 ,the romantic drama1      
which1 strictly speaking1 can neither be
 called tragedy nor comedy in the sense 
of the ancients1 is indigenous only to  
,england and ,spain4 ,in both it began  
to flourish at the same time1 somewhat  
more than two hundred years ago1 being  
brought to perfection by ,shakspeare in 
the former country1 and in the latter by
 ,lope de ,vega4  ,the ,german stage is 
the last of all1 and has been influenced
 in the greatest variety of ways by all 
those which preceded it4 ,it will be    
most appropriate1 therefore1 to enter   
upon its consideration last of all4 ,by 
this course we shall be better enabled  
to judge of the directions which it has 
hitherto taken1 and to point out the    
prospects which are still open to it4   
,when ,i promise to go through the      
history of the ,greek and ,roman1 of the
 ,italian and ,french1 and of the       
,english and ,spanish theatres1 in the  
few hours which are dedicated to these  
,lectures1 ,i wish it to be understood  

that ,i can only enter into such an     
account of them as will comprehend their
 most essential peculiarities under     
general points of view4 ,although ,i    
confine myself to a single domain of    
poetry1 still the mass of materials     
comprehended within it is too extensive 
to be taken in by the eye at once1 and  
this would be the case were ,i even to  
limit myself to one of its subordinate  
departments4 ,we might read ourselves to
 death with farces4 ,in the ordinary    
histories of literature the poets of one
 language1 and one description1 are     
enumerated in succession1 without any   
further discrimination1 like the        
,assyrian and ,egyptian kings in the old
 universal histories4 ,there are persons
 who have an unconquerable passion for  
the titles of books1 and we willingly   
concede to them the privilege of        
increasing their number by books on the 
titles of books4 ,it is much the same   
thing1 however1 as in the history of a  
war to give the name of every soldier   

who fought in the ranks of the hostile  
armies4 ,it is usual1 however1 to speak 
only of the generals1 and those who may 
have performed actions of distinction4  
,in like manner the battles of the human
 mind1 if ,i may use the expression1    
have been won by a few intellectual     
heroes4 ,the history of the development 
of art and its various forms may be     
therefore exhibited in the characters of
 a number1 by no means considerable1 of 
elevated and creative minds4            
,,lecture ,,ii4  ,definition of the     
,drama--,view of the ,theatres of all   
,nations--,theatrical                   
,effect--,importance of the             
,stage--,principal ,species of the      
,drama4   ,before1 however1 entering    
upon such a history as we have now      
described1 it will be necessary to      
examine what is meant by dramatic1      
theatrical1 tragic1 and comic4  ,what is
 dramatic8 ,to many the answer will seem
 very easy3 where various persons are   
introduced conversing together1 and the 

poet does not speak in his own person4  
,this is1 however1 merely the first     
external foundation of the form2 and    
that is dialogue4 ,but the characters   
may express thoughts and sentiments     
without operating any change on each    
other1 and so leave the minds of both in
 exactly the same state in which they   
were at the commencement2 in such a     
case1 however interesting the           
conversation may be1 it cannot be said  
to possess a dramatic interest4 ,i shall
 make this clear by alluding to a more  
tranquil species of dialogue1 not       
adapted for the stage1 the philosophic4 
,when1 in ,plato1 ,socrates asks the    
conceited sophist ,hippias1 what is the 
meaning of the beautiful1 the latter is 
at once ready with a superficial answer1
 but is afterwards compelled by the     
ironical objections of ,socrates to give
 up his former definition1 and to grope 
about him for other ideas1 till1 ashamed
 at last and irritated at the           
superiority of the sage who has         

convicted him of his ignorance1 he is   
forced to quit the field3 this dialogue 
is not merely philosophically           
instructive1 but arrests the attention  
like a drama in miniature4 ,and justly1 
therefore1 has this lively movement in  
the thoughts1 this stretch of           
expectation for the issue1 in a word1   
the dramatic cast of the dialogues of   
,plato1 been always celebrated4  ,from  
this we may conceive wherein consists   
the great charm of dramatic poetry4     
,action is the true enjoyment of life1  
nay1 life itself4 ,mere passive         
enjoyments may lull us into a state of  
listless complacency1 but even then1 if 
possessed of the least internal         
activity1 we cannot avoid being soon    
wearied4 ,the great bulk of mankind     
merely from their situation in life1 or 
from their incapacity for extraordinary 
exertions1 are confined within a narrow 
circle of insignificant operations4     
,their days flow on in succession under 
the sleepy rule of custom1 their life   

advances by an insensible progress1 and 
the bursting torrent of the first       
passions of youth soon settles into a   
stagnant marsh4 ,from the discontent    
which this occasions they are compelled 
to have recourse to all sorts of        
diversions1 which uniformly consist in a
 species of occupation that may be      
renounced at pleasure1 and though a     
struggle with difficulties1 yet with    
difficulties that are easily surmounted4
 ,but of all diversions the theatre is  
undoubtedly the most entertaining4 ,here
 we may see others act even when we     
cannot act to any great purpose         
ourselves4 ,the highest object of human 
activity is man1 and in the drama we see
 men1 measuring their powers with each  
other1 as intellectual and moral beings1
 either as friends or foes1 influencing 
each other by their opinions1           
sentiments1 and passions1 and decisively
 determining their reciprocal relations 
and circumstances4 ,the art of the poet 
accordingly consists in separating from 

the fable whatever does not essentially 
belong to it1 whatever1 in the daily    
necessities of real life1 and the petty 
occupations to which they give rise1    
interrupts the progress of important    
actions1 and concentrating within a     
narrow space a number of events         
calculated to attract the minds of the  
hearers and to fill them with attention 
and expectation4 ,in this manner he     
gives us a renovated picture of life2 a 
compendium of whatever is moving and    
progressive in human existence4  ,but   
this is not all4 ,even in a lively oral 
narration1 it is not unusual to         
introduce persons in conversation with  
each other1 and to give a corresponding 
variety to the tone and the expression4 
,but the gaps1 which these conversations
 leave in the story1 the narrator fills 
up in his own name with a description of
 the accompanying circumstances1 and    
other particulars4 ,the dramatic poet   
must renounce all such expedients2 but  
for this he is richly recompensed in the

 following invention4 ,he requires each 
of the characters in his story to be    
personated by a living individual2 that 
this individual should1 in sex1 age1 and
 figure1 meet as near as may be the     
prevalent conceptions of his fictitious 
original1 nay1 assume his entire        
personality2 that every speech should be
 delivered in a suitable tone of voice1 
and accompanied by appropriate action   
and gesture2 and that those external    
circumstances should be added which are 
necessary to give the hearers a clear   
idea of what is going forward4          
,moreover1 these representatives of the 
creatures of his imagination must appear
 in the costume belonging to their      
assumed rank1 and to their age and      
country2 partly for the sake of greater 
resemblance1 and partly because1 even in
 dress1 there is something              
characteristic4 ,lastly1 he must see    
them placed in a locality1 which1 in    
some degree1 resembles that where1      
according to his fable1 the action took 

place1 because this also contributes to 
the resemblance3 he places them1 i4e41  
on a scene4 ,all this brings us to the  
idea of the theatre4 ,it is evident that
 the very form of dramatic poetry1 that 
is1 the exhibition of an action by      
dialogue without the aid of narrative1  
implies the theatre as its necessary    
complement4 ,we allow that there are    
dramatic works which were not originally
 designed for the stage1 and not        
calculated to produce any great effect  
there1 which nevertheless afford great  
pleasure in the perusal4 ,i am1 however1
 very much inclined to doubt whether    
they would produce the same strong      
impression1 with which they affect us1  
upon a person who had never seen or     
heard a description of a theatre4 ,in   
reading dramatic works1 we are          
accustomed ourselves to supply the      
representation4  ,the invention of      
dramatic art1 and of the theatre1 seems 
a very obvious and natural one4 ,man has
 a great disposition to mimicry2 when he

 enters vividly into the situation1     
sentiments1 and passions of others1 he  
involuntarily puts on a resemblance to  
them in his gestures4 ,children are     
perpetually going out of themselves2 it 
is one of their chief amusements to     
represent those grown people whom they  
have had an opportunity of observing1 or
 whatever strikes their fancy2 and with 
the happy pliancy of their imagination1 
they can exhibit all the characteristics
 of any dignity they may choose to      
assume1 be it that of a father1 a       
schoolmaster1 or a king4 ,but one step  
more was requisite for the invention of 
the drama1 namely1 to separate and      
extract the mimetic elements from the   
separate parts of social life1 and to   
present them to itself again            
collectively in one mass2 yet in many   
nations it has not been taken4 ,in the  
very minute description of ancient      
,egypt given by ,herodotus and other    
writers1 ,i do not recollect observing  
the smallest trace of it4 ,the          

,etruscans1 on the contrary1 who in many
 respects resembled the ,egyptians1 had 
theatrical representations2 and what is 
singular enough1 the ,etruscan name for 
an actor histrio1 is preserved in living
 languages even to the present day4 ,the
 ,arabians and ,persians1 though        
possessed of a rich poetical literature1
 are unacquainted with the drama4 ,it   
was the same with ,europe in the ,middle
 ,ages4 ,on the introduction of         
,christianity1 the plays handed down    
from the ,greeks and ,romans were set   
aside1 partly because they had reference
 to heathen ideas1 and partly because   
they had degenerated into the most      
shameless immorality2 nor were they     
again revived till after the lapse of   
nearly a thousand years4 ,even in the   
fourteenth century1 in that complete    
picture which ,boccacio gives us of the 
existing frame of society1 we do not    
find the smallest trace of plays4 ,in   
place of them they had simply their     
conteurs1 menestriers1 jongleurs4 ,on   

the other hand we are by no means       
entitled to assume that the invention of
 the drama was made once for all in the 
world1 to be afterwards borrowed by one 
people from another4 ,the ,english      
circumnavigators tell us1 that among the
 islanders of the ,south ,seas1 who in  
every mental qualification and          
acquirement are at the lowest grade of  
civilization1 they yet observed a rude  
drama in which a common incident in life
 was imitated for the sake of diversion4
 ,and to pass to the other extremity of 
the world1 among the ,indians1 whose    
social institutions and mental          
cultivation descend unquestionably from 
a remote antiquity1 plays were known    
long before they could have experienced 
any foreign influence4 ,it has lately   
been made known to ,europe that they    
possess a rich dramatic literature1     
which goes backward through nearly two  
thousand years4 ,the only specimen of   
their plays 7nataks7 hitherto known to  
us in the delightful ,sakontala1 which1 

notwithstanding the foreign colouring of
 its native climate1 bears in its       
general structure such a striking       
resemblance to our own romantic drama1  
that we might be inclined to suspect we 
owe this resemblance to the predilection
 for ,shakspeare entertained by the     
,english translator 7,sir ,william      
,jones71 if his fidelity were not       
attested by other learned orientalists4 
,the drama1 indeed1 seems to have been a
 favourite amusement of the ,native     
,princes2 and to owe to this            
circumstance that tone of refined       
society which prevails in it4 ,uggargini
 7,oude87 is specially named as a seat  
of this art4 ,under the ,mahommedan     
rulers it naturally fell into decay3 the
 national tongue was strange to them1   
,persian being the language of the      
court2 and moreover1 the mythology which
 was so intimately interwoven with      
poetry was irreconcilable with their    
religious notions4 ,generally1 indeed1  
we know of no ,mahommedan nation that   

has accomplished any thing in dramatic  
poetry1 or even had any notion of it4   
,the ,chinese again have their standing 
national theatre1 standing perhaps in   
every sense of the word2 and ,i do not  
doubt1 that in the establishment of     
arbitrary rules1 and the delicate       
observance of insignificant             
conventionalities1 they leave the most  
correct ,europeans very far behind them4
 ,when the new ,european stage sprung up
 in the fifteenth century1 with its     
allegorical and religious pieces called 
,moralities and ,mysteries1 its rise was
 uninfluenced by the ancient dramatists1
 who did not come into circulation till 
some time afterwards4 ,in those rude    
beginnings lay the germ of the romantic 
drama as a peculiar invention4  ,in this
 wide diffusion of theatrical           
entertainments1 the great difference in 
dramatic talent which subsists between  
nations equally distinguished for       
intellect1 is something remarkable2 so  
that theatrical talent would seem to be 

a peculiar quality1 essentially distinct
 from the poetical gift in general4 ,we 
do not wonder at the contrast in this   
respect between the ,greeks and the     
,romans1 for the ,greeks were altogether
 a nation of artists1 and the ,romans a 
practical people4 ,among the latter the 
fine arts were introduced as a          
corrupting article of luxury1 both      
betokening and accelerating the         
degeneracy of the times4 ,they carried  
this luxury so far with respect to the  
theatre itself1 that the perfection in  
essentials was sacrificed to the        
accessories of embellishment4 ,even     
among the ,greeks dramatic talent was   
far from universal4 ,the theatre was    
invented in ,athens1 and in ,athens     
alone was it brought to perfection4 ,the
 ,doric dramas of ,epicharmus form only 
a slight exception to the truth of this 
remark4 ,all the great creative         
dramatists of the ,greeks were born in  
,attica1 and formed their style in      
,athens4 ,widely as the ,grecian race   

was spread1 successfully as everywhere  
almost it cultivated the fine arts1 yet 
beyond the bounds of ,attica it was     
content to admire1 without venturing to 
rival1 the productions of the ,athenian 
stage4  ,equally remarkable is the      
difference in this respect between the  
,spaniards and their neighbours the     
,portuguese1 though related to them both
 by descent and by language4 ,the       
,spaniards possess a dramatic literature
 of inexhaustible wealth2 in fertility  
their dramatists resemble the ,greeks1  
among whom more than a hundred pieces   
can frequently be assigned by name to a 
single author4 ,whatever judgment may be
 pronounced on them in other respects1  
the praise of invention has never yet   
been denied to them2 their claim to this
 has in fact been but too well          
established1 since ,italian1 ,french1   
and ,english writers have all availed   
themselves of the ingenious inventions  
of the ,spaniards1 and often without    
acknowledging the source from which they

 derived them4 ,the ,portuguese1 on the 
other hand1 while in the other branches 
of poetry they rival the ,spaniards1    
have in this department accomplished    
hardly anything1 and have never even    
possessed a national theatre2 visited   
from time to time by strolling players  
from ,spain1 they chose rather to listen
 to a foreign dialect1 which1 without   
previous study1 they could not perfectly
 understand1 than to invent1 or even to 
translate and imitate1 for themselves4  
,of the many talents for art and        
literature displayed by the ,italians1  
the dramatic is by no means pre-eminent1
 and this defect they seem to have      
inherited from the ,romans1 in the same 
manner as their great talent for mimicry
 and buffoonery goes back to the most   
ancient times4 ,the extemporary         
compositions called ,fabulae ,atellanae1
 the only original and national form of 
the ,roman drama1 in respect of plan1   
were not perhaps more perfect than the  
so-called ,commedia dell' ,arte1 in     

which1 the parts being fixed and        
invariable1 the dialogue is extemporised
 by masked actors4 ,in the ancient      
,saturnalia we have probably the germ of
 the present carnival1 which is entirely
 an ,italian invention4 ,the ,opera and 
the ,ballet were also the invention of  
the ,italians3 two species of theatrical
 amusement1 in which the dramatic       
interest is entirely subordinate to     
music and dancing4  ,if the ,german mind
 has not developed itself in the drama  
with the same fulness and ease as in    
other departments of literature1 this   
defect is perhaps to be accounted for by
 the peculiar character of the nation4  
,the ,germans are a speculative people2 
in other words1 they wish to discover by
 reflection and meditation1 the         
principle of whatever they engage in4   
,on that very account they are not      
sufficiently practical2 for if we wish  
to act with skill and determination1 we 
must make up our minds that we have     
somehow or other become masters of our  

subject1 and not be perpetually         
recurring to an examination of the      
theory on which it rests2 we must1 as it
 were1 have settled down and contented  
ourselves with a certain partial        
apprehension of the idea4 ,but now in   
the invention and conduct of a drama the
 practical spirit must prevail3 the     
dramatic poet is not allowed to dream   
away under his inspiration1 he must take
 the straightest road to his end2 but   
the ,germans are only too apt to lose   
sight of the object in the course of    
their way to it4 ,besides1 in the drama 
the nationality does usually1 nay1 must 
show itself in the most marked manner1  
and the national character of the       
,germans is modest and retiring3 it     
loves not to make a noisy display of    
itself2 and the noble endeavour to      
become acquainted with1 and to          
appropriate to itself whatever is       
excellent in others1 is not seldom      
accompanied with an undervaluing of its 
own worth4 ,for these reasons the       

,german stage has often1 in form and    
matter1 been more than duly affected by 
foreign influence4 ,not indeed that the 
,germans propose to themselves no higher
 object than the mere passive repetition
 of the ,grecian1 the ,french1 the      
,spanish1 or the ,english theatre2 but1 
as it appears to me1 they are in search 
of a more perfect form1 which1 excluding
 all that is merely local or temporary1 
may combine whatever is truly poetical  
in all these theatres4 ,in the matter1  
however1 the ,german national features  
ought certainly to predominate4  ,after 
this rapid sketch of what may be called 
the map of dramatic literature1 we      
return to the examination of its        
fundamental ideas4 ,since1 as we have   
already shown1 visible representation is
 essential to the very form of the      
drama2 a dramatic work may always be    
regarded from a double point of         
view1--how far it is poetical1 and how  
far it is theatrical4 ,the two are by no
 means inseparable4 ,let not1 however1  

the expression poetical be              
misunderstood3 ,i am not now speaking of
 the versification and the ornaments of 
language2 these1 when not animated by   
some higher excellence1 are the least   
effective on the stage2 but ,i speak of 
the poetry in the spirit and design of a
 piece2 and this may exist in as high a 
degree when the drama is written in     
prose as in verse4 ,what is it1 then1   
that makes a drama poetical8 ,the very  
same1 assuredly1 that makes other works 
so4 ,it must in the first place be a    
connected whole1 complete and           
satisfactory within itself4 ,but this is
 merely the negative definition of a    
work of art1 by which it is             
distinguished from the phenomena of     
nature1 which run into each other1 and  
do not possess in themselves a complete 
and independent existence4 ,to be       
poetical it is necessary that a         
composition should be a mirror of ideas1
 that is1 thoughts and feelings which in
 their character are necessary and      

eternally true1 and soar above this     
earthly life1 and also that it should   
exhibit them embodied before us4 ,what  
the ideas are1 which in this view are   
essential to the different departments  
of the drama1 will hereafter be the     
subject of our investigation4 ,we shall 
also1 on the other hand1 show that      
without them a drama becomes altogether 
prosaic and empirical1 that is to say1  
patched together by the understanding   
out of the observations it has gathered 
from literal reality4  ,but how does a  
dramatic work become theatrical1 or     
fitted to appear with advantage on the  
stage8 ,in single instances it is often 
difficult to determine whether a work   
possesses such a property or not4 ,it is
 indeed frequently the subject of great 
controversy1 especially when the        
self-love of authors and actors comes   
into collision2 each shifts the blame of
 failure on the other1 and those who    
advocate the cause of the author appeal 
to an imaginary perfection of the       

histrionic art1 and complain of the     
insufficiency of the existing means for 
its realization4 ,but in general the    
answer to this question is by no means  
so difficult4 ,the object proposed is to
 produce an impression on an assembled  
multitude1 to rivet their attention1 and
 to excite their interest and sympathy4 
,in this respect the poet's occupation  
coincides with that of the orator4 ,how 
then does the latter attain his end8 ,by
 perspicuity1 rapidity1 and energy4     
,whatever exceeds the ordinary measure  
of patience or comprehension he must    
diligently avoid4 ,moreover1 when a     
number of men are assembled together1   
they mutually distract each other's     
attention whenever their eyes and ears  
are not drawn to a common object without
 and beyond themselves4  ,hence the     
dramatic poet1 as well as the orator1   
must from the very commencement1 by     
strong impressions1 transport his       
hearers out of themselves1 and1 as it   
were1 take bodily possession of their   

attention4 ,there is a species of poetry
 which gently stirs a mind attuned to   
solitary contemplation1 as soft breezes 
elicit melody from the ,aeolian harp4   
,however excellent this poetry may be in
 itself1 without some other             
accompaniments its tones would be lost  
on the stage4 ,the melting harmonica is 
not calculated to regulate the march of 
an army1 and kindle its military        
enthusiasm4 ,for this we must have      
piercing instruments1 but above all a   
strongly-marked rhythm1 to quicken the  
pulsation and give a more rapid movement
 to the animal spirits4 ,the grand      
requisite in a drama is to make this    
rhythm perceptible in the onward        
progress of the action4 ,when this has  
once been effected1 the poet may all the
 sooner halt in his rapid career1 and   
indulge the bent of his own genius4     
,there are points1 when the most        
elaborate and polished style1 the most  
enthusiastic lyrics1 the most profound  
thoughts and remote allusions1 the      

smartest coruscations of wit1 and the   
most dazzling flights of a sportive or  
ethereal fancy1 are all in their place1 
and when the willing audience1 even     
those who cannot entirely comprehend    
them1 follow the whole with a greedy    
ear1 like music in unison with their    
feelings4 ,here the poet's great art    
lies in availing himself of the effect  
of contrasts1 which enable him at one   
time to produce calm repose1 profound   
contemplation1 and even the             
self-abandoned indifference of          
exhaustion1 or at another1 the most     
tumultuous emotions1 the most violent   
storm of the passions4 ,with respect to 
theatrical fitness1 however1 it must not
 be forgotten that much must always     
depend on the capacities and humours of 
the audience1 and1 consequently1 on the 
national character in general1 and the  
particular degree of mental culture4 ,of
 all kinds of poetry the dramatic is1 in
 a certain sense1 the most secular2 for1
 issuing from the stillness of an       

inspired mind1 it yet fears not to      
exhibit itself in the midst of the noise
 and tumult of social life4 ,the        
dramatic poet is1 more than any other1  
obliged to court external favour and    
loud applause4 ,but of course it is only
 in appearance that he thus lowers      
himself to his hearers2 while1 in       
reality1 he is elevating them to        
himself4  ,in thus producing an         
impression on an assembled multitude the
 following circumstance deserves to be  
weighed1 in order to ascertain the whole
 amount of its importance4 ,in ordinary 
intercourse men exhibit only the outward
 man to each other4 ,they are withheld  
by mistrust or indifference from        
allowing others to look into what passes
 within them2 and to speak with any     
thing like emotion or agitation of that 
which is nearest our heart is considered
 unsuitable to the tone of polished     
society4 ,the orator and the dramatist  
find means to break through these       
barriers of conventional reserve4 ,while

 they transport their hearers into such 
lively emotions that the outward signs  
thereof break forth involuntarily1 every
 man perceives those around him to be   
affected in the same manner and degree1 
and those who before were strangers to  
one another1 become in a moment         
intimately acquainted4 ,the tears which 
the dramatist or the orator compels them
 to shed for calumniated innocence or   
dying heroism1 make friends and brothers
 of them all4 ,almost inconceivable is  
the power of a visible communion of     
numbers to give intensity to those      
feelings of the heart which usually     
retire into privacy1 or only open       
themselves to the confidence of         
friendship4 ,the faith in the validity  
of such emotions becomes irrefragable   
from its diffusion2 we feel ourselves   
strong among so many associates1 and all
 hearts and minds flow together in one  
great and irresistible stream4 ,on this 
very account the privilege of           
influencing an assembled crowd is       

exposed to most dangerous abuses4 ,as   
one may disinterestedly animate them1   
for the noblest and best of purposes1 so
 another may entangle them in the       
deceitful meshes of sophistry1 and      
dazzle them by the glare of a false     
magnanimity1 whose vainglorious crimes  
may be painted as virtues and even as   
sacrifices4 ,beneath the delightful     
charms of oratory and poetry1 the poison
 steals imperceptibly into ear and      
heart4 ,above all others must the comic 
poet 7seeing that his very occupation   
keeps him always on the slippery brink  
of this precipice17 take heed1 lest he  
afford an opportunity for the lower and 
baser parts of human nature to display  
themselves without restraint4 ,when the 
sense of shame which ordinarily keeps   
these baser propensities within the     
bounds of decency1 is once weakened by  
the sight of others' participation in   
them1 our inherent sympathy with what is
 vile will soon break out into the most 
unbridled licentiousness4  ,the powerful

 nature of such an engine for either    
good or bad purposes has in all times   
justly drawn the attention of the       
legislature to the drama4 ,many         
regulations have been devised by        
different governments1 to render it     
subservient to their views and to guard 
against its abuse4 ,the great difficulty
 is to combine such a degree of freedom 
as is necessary for the production of   
works of excellence1 with the           
precautions demanded by the customs and 
institutions of the different states4   
,in ,athens the theatre enjoyed up to   
its maturity1 under the patronage of    
religion1 almost unlimited freedom1 and 
the public morality preserved it for a  
time from degeneracy4 ,the comedies of  
,aristophanes1 which with our views and 
habits appear to us so intolerably      
licentious1 and in which the senate and 
the people itself are unmercifully      
turned to ridicule1 were the seal of    
,athenian freedom4 ,to meet this abuse1 
,plato1 who lived in the very same      

,athens1 and either witnessed or foresaw
 the decline of art1 proposed the entire
 banishment of dramatic poets from his  
ideal republic4 ,few states1 however1   
have conceived it necessary to subscribe
 to this severe sentence of             
condemnation2 but few also have thought 
proper to leave the theatre to itself   
without any superintendence4 ,in many   
,christian countries the dramatic art   
has been honoured by being made         
subservient to religion1 in the popular 
treatment and exhibition of religious   
subjects2 and in ,spain more especially 
competition in this department has given
 birth to many works which1 neither     
devotion nor poetry will disown4 ,in    
other states and under other            
circumstances this has been thought both
 objectionable and inexpedient4         
,wherever1 however1 the subsequent      
responsibility of the poet and actor has
 been thought insufficient1 and it has  
been deemed advisable to submit every   
piece before its appearance on the stage

 to a previous censorship1 it has been  
generally found to fail in the very     
point which is of the greatest          
importance3 namely1 the spirit and      
general impression of a play4 ,from the 
nature of the dramatic art1 the poet    
must put into the mouths of his         
characters much of which he does not    
himself approve1 while with respect to  
his own sentiments he claims to be      
judged by the spirit and connexion of   
the whole4 ,it may again happen that a  
piece is perfectly inoffensive in its   
single speeches1 and defies all         
censorship1 while as a whole it is      
calculated to produce the most          
pernicious effect4 ,we have in our own  
times seen but too many plays favourably
 received throughout ,europe1           
over-flowing with ebullitions of        
good-heartedness and traits of          
magnanimity1 and in which1              
notwithstanding1 a keener eye cannot    
fail to detect the hidden purpose of the
 writer to sap the foundations of moral 

principle1 and the veneration for       
whatever ought to be held sacred by man2
 while all this sentimentality is only  
to bribe to his purpose the effeminate  
soft-heartedness of his contemporaries  
,footnote3 ,the author it is supposed   
alludes to ,kotzebue4--,,trans44 ,on the
 other hand1 if any person were to      
undertake the moral vindication of poor 
,aristophanes1 who has such a bad name1 
and whose licentiousness in particular  
passages1 is to our ideas quite         
intolerable1 he will find good grounds  
for his defence in the general object of
 his pieces1 in which he at least       
displays the sentiments of a patriotic  
citizen4  ,the purport of these         
observations is to evince the importance
 of the subject we are considering4 ,the
 theatre1 where many arts are combined  
to produce a magical effect2 where the  
most lofty and profound poetry has for  
its interpreter the most finished       
action1 which is at once eloquence and  
an animated picture2 while architecture 

contributes her splendid decorations1   
and painting her perspective illusions1 
and the aid of music is called in to    
attune the mind1 or to heighten by its  
strains the emotions which already      
agitate it2 the theatre1 in short1 where
 the whole of the social and artistic   
enlightenment1 which a nation possesses1
 the fruit of many centuries of         
continued exertion1 are brought into    
play within the representation of a few 
short hours1 has an extraordinary charm 
for every age1 sex1 and rank1 and has   
ever been the favourite amusement of    
every cultivated people4 ,here1 princes1
 statesmen1 and generals1 behold the    
great events of past times1 similar to  
those in which they themselves are      
called upon to act1 laid open in their  
inmost springs and motives2 here1 too1  
the philosopher finds subject for       
profoundest reflection on the nature and
 constitution of man2 with curious eye  
the artist follows the groups which pass
 rapidly before him1 and from them      

impresses on his fancy the germ of many 
a future picture2 the susceptible youth 
opens his heart to every elevating      
feeling2 age becomes young again in     
recollection2 even childhood sits with  
anxious expectation before the gaudy    
curtain1 which is soon to be drawn up   
with its rustling sound1 and to display 
to it so many unknown wonders3 all alike
 are diverted1 all exhilarated1 and all 
feel themselves for a time raised above 
the daily cares1 the troubles1 and the  
sorrows of life4 ,as the drama1 with the
 arts which are subservient to it1 may1 
from neglect and the mutual contempt of 
artists and the public1 so far          
degenerate1 as to become nothing better 
than a trivial and stupid amusement1 and
 even a downright waste of time1 we     
conceive that we are attempting         
something more than a passing           
entertainment1 if we propose to enter on
 a consideration of the works produced  
by the most distinguished nations in    
their most brilliant periods1 and to    

institute an inquiry into the means of  
ennobling and perfecting so important an
 art4     ,,lecture ,,iii4  ,essence of 
,tragedy and ,comedy--,earnestness and  
,sport--,how far it is possible to      
become acquainted with the ,ancients    
without knowing ,original               
,languages--,winkelmann4   ,the         
importance of our subject is1 ,i think1 
fully proved4 ,let us now enter upon a  
brief consideration of the two kinds    
into which all dramatic poetry is       
divided1 the tragic and comic1 and      
examine the meaning and import of each4 
,the three principal kinds of poetry in 
general are the epic1 the lyric1 and the
 dramatic4 ,all the other subordinate   
species are either derived from these1  
or formed by combination from them4 ,if 
we would consider these three leading   
kinds in their purity1 we must go back  
to the forms in which they appeared     
among the ,greeks4 ,for the theory of   
poetical art is most conveniently       
illustrated by the history of ,grecian  

poetry2 for the latter is well entitled 
to the appellation of systematical1     
since it furnishes for every independent
 idea derived from experience the most  
distinct and precise manifestation4  ,it
 is singular that epic and lyric poetry 
admit not of any such precise division  
into two opposite species1 as the       
dramatic does4 ,the ludicrous epopee    
has1 it is true1 been styled a peculiar 
species1 but it is only an accidental   
variety1 a mere parody of the epos1 and 
consists in applying its solemn         
staidness of development1 which seems   
only suitable to great objects1 to      
trifling and insignificant events4 ,in  
lyric poetry there are only intervals   
and gradations between the song1 the    
ode1 and the elegy1 but no proper       
contrast4  ,the spirit of epic poetry1  
as we recognise it in its father1       
,homer1 is clear self-possession4 ,the  
epos is the calm quiet representation of
 an action in progress4 ,the poet       
relates joyful as well as mournful      

events1 but he relates them with        
equanimity1 and considers them as       
already past1 and at a certain          
remoteness from our minds4  ,the lyric  
poem is the musical expression of mental
 emotions by language4 ,the essence of  
musical feeling consists in this1 that  
we endeavour with complacency to dwell  
on1 and even to perpetuate in our souls1
 a joyful or painful emotion4 ,the      
feeling must consequently be already so 
far mitigated as not to impel us by the 
desire of its pleasure or the dread of  
its pain1 to tear ourselves from it1 but
 such as to allow us1 unconcerned at the
 fluctuations of feeling which time     
produces1 to dwell upon and be absorbed 
in a single moment of existence4  ,the  
dramatic poet1 as well as the epic1     
represents external events1 but he      
represents them as real and present4 ,in
 common with the lyric poet he also     
claims our mental participation1 but not
 in the same calm composedness2 the     
feeling of joy and sorrow which the     

dramatist excites is more immediate and 
vehement4 ,he calls forth all the       
emotions which the sight of similar     
deeds and fortunes of living men would  
elicit1 and it is only by the total sum 
of the impression which he produces that
 he ultimately resolves these           
conflicting emotions into a harmonious  
tone of feeling4 ,as he stands in such  
close proximity to real life1 and       
endeavours to endue his own imaginary   
creations with vitality1 the equanimity 
of the epic poet would in him be        
indifference2 he must decidedly take    
part with one or other of the leading   
views of human life1 and constrain his  
audience also to participate in the same
 feeling4  ,to employ simpler and more  
intelligible language3 the tragic and   
comic bear the same relation to one     
another as earnest and sport4 ,every    
man1 from his own experience1 is        
acquainted with both these states of    
mind2 but to determine their essence and
 their source would demand deep         

philosophical investigation4 ,both1     
indeed1 bear the stamp of our common    
nature2 but earnestness belongs more to 
its moral1 and mirth to its animal part4
 ,the creatures destitute of reason are 
incapable either of earnest or of sport4
 ,animals seem indeed at times to labour
 as if they were earnestly intent upon  
some aim1 and as if they made the       
present moment subordinate to the       
future2 at other times they seem to     
sport1 that is1 they give themselves up 
without object or purpose to the        
pleasure of existence3 but they do not  
possess consciousness1 which alone can  
entitle these two conditions to the     
names of earnest and sport4 ,man alone1 
of all the animals with which we are    
acquainted1 is capable of looking back  
towards the past1 and forward into      
futurity2 and he has to purchase the    
enjoyment of this noble privilege at a  
dear rate4 ,earnestness1 in the most    
extensive signification1 is the         
direction of our mental powers to some  

aim4 ,but as soon as we begin to call   
ourselves to account for our actions1   
reason compels us to fix this aim higher
 and higher1 till we come at last to the
 highest end of our existence3 and here 
that longing for the infinite which is  
inherent in our being1 is baffled by the
 limits of our finite existence4 ,all   
that we do1 all that we effect1 is vain 
and perishable2 death stands everywhere 
in the back ground1 and to it every well
 or ill- spent moment brings us nearer  
and closer2 and even when a man has been
 so singularly fortunate as to reach the
 utmost term of life without any        
grievous calamity1 the inevitable doom  
still awaits him to leave or to be left 
by all that is most dear to him on      
earth4 ,there is no bond of love without
 a separation1 no enjoyment without the 
grief of losing it4 ,when1 however1 we  
contemplate the relations of our        
existence to the extreme limit of       
possibilities3 when we reflect on its   
entire dependence on a chain of causes  

and effects1 stretching beyond our ken3 
when we consider how weak and helpless1 
and doomed to struggle against the      
enormous powers of nature1 and          
conflicting appetites1 we are cast on   
the shores of an unknown world1 as it   
were1 shipwrecked at our very birth2 how
 we are subject to all kinds of errors  
and deceptions1 any one of which may be 
our ruin2 that in our passions we       
cherish an enemy in our bosoms2 how     
every moment demands from us1 in the    
name of the most sacred duties1 the     
sacrifice of our dearest inclinations1  
and how at one blow we may be robbed of 
all that we have acquired with much toil
 and difficulty2 that with every        
accession to our stores1 the risk of    
loss is proportionately increased1 and  
we are only the more exposed to the     
malice of hostile fortune3 when we think
 upon all this1 every heart which is not
 dead to feeling must be overpowered by 
an inexpressible melancholy1 for which  
there is no other counter-poise than the

 consciousness of a vocation            
transcending the limits of this earthly 
life4 ,this is the tragic tone of mind2 
and when the thought of the possible    
issues out of the mind as a living      
reality1 when this tone pervades and    
animates a visible representation of the
 most striking instances of violent     
revolutions in a man's fortunes1 either 
prostrating his mental energies or      
calling forth the most heroic           
endurance--then the result is ,tragic   
,poetry4 ,we thus see how this kind of  
poetry has its foundation in our nature1
 while to a certain extent we have also 
answered the question1 why we are fond  
of such mournful representations1 and   
even find something consoling and       
elevating in them8 ,this tone of mind we
 have described is inseparable from     
strong feeling2 and although poetry     
cannot remove these internal            
dissonances1 she must at least endeavour
 to effect an ideal reconciliation of   
them4  ,as earnestness1 in the highest  

degree1 is the essence of tragic        
representation2 so is sport of the      
comic4 ,the disposition to mirth is a   
forgetfulness of all gloomy             
considerations in the pleasant feeling  
of present happiness4 ,we are then      
inclined to view every thing in a       
sportive light1 and to allow nothing to 
disturb or ruffle our minds4 ,the       
imperfections and the irregularities of 
men are no longer an object of dislike  
and compassion1 but serve1 by their     
strange inconsistencies1 to entertain   
the understanding and to amuse the      
fancy4 ,the comic poet must therefore   
carefully abstain from whatever is      
calculated to excite moral indignation  
at the conduct1 or sympathy with the    
situations of his personages1 because   
this would inevitably bring us back     
again into earnestness4 ,he must paint  
their irregularities as springing out of
 the predominance of the animal part of 
their nature1 and the incidents which   
befal them as merely ludicrous          

distresses1 which will be attended with 
no fatal consequences4 ,this is         
uniformly what takes place in what we   
call ,comedy1 in which1 however1 there  
is still a mixture of seriousness1 as ,i
 shall show in the sequel4 ,the oldest  
comedy of the ,greeks was1 however1     
entirely sportive1 and in that respect  
formed the most complete contrast to    
their tragedy4 ,not only were the       
characters and situations of individuals
 worked up into a comic picture of real 
life1 but the whole frame of society1   
the constitution1 nature1 and the gods1 
were all fantastically painted in the   
most ridiculous and laughable colours4  
,when we have formed in this manner a   
pure idea of the tragic and comic1 as   
exhibited to us in ,grecian examples1 we
 shall then be enabled to analyze the   
various corruptions of both1 which the  
moderns have invented1 to discriminate  
their incongruous additions1 and to     
separate their several ingredients4  ,in
 the history of poetry and the fine arts

 among the ,greeks1 their development   
was subject to an invariable law4       
,everything heterogeneous was first     
excluded1 and then all homogeneous      
elements were combined1 and each being  
perfected in itself1 at last elevated   
into an independent and harmonious      
unity4 ,hence with them each species is 
confined within its natural boundaries1 
and the different styles distinctly     
marked4 ,in beginning1 therefore1 with  
the history of the ,grecian art and     
poetry1 we are not merely observing the 
order of time1 but also the order of    
ideas4  ,in the case of the majority of 
my hearers1 ,i can hardly presume upon a
 direct acquaintance with the ,greeks1  
derived from the study of their poetical
 works in the original language4        
,translations in prose1 or even in      
verse1 in which they are but dressed up 
again in the modern taste1 can afford no
 true idea of the ,grecian drama4 ,true 
and faithful translations1 which        
endeavour in expression and             

versification to rise to the height of  
the original1 have as yet been attempted
 only in ,germany4 ,but although our    
language is extremely flexible1 and in  
many respects resembling the ,greek1 it 
is after all a battle with unequal      
weapons2 and stiffness and harshness not
 unfrequently take the place of the easy
 sweetness of the ,greek4 ,but we are   
even far from having yet done all that  
can perhaps be accomplished3 ,i know of 
no translation of a ,greek tragedian    
deserving of unqualified praise4 ,but   
even supposing the translation as       
perfect as possible1 and deviating very 
slightly from the original1 the reader  
who is unacquainted with the other works
 of the ,greeks1 will be perpetually    
disturbed by the foreign nature of the  
subject1 by national peculiarities and  
numerous allusions 7which cannot be     
understood without some scholarship71   
and thus unable to comprehend particular
 parts1 he will be prevented from       
forming a clear idea of the whole4 ,so  

long as we have to struggle with        
difficulties it is impossible to have   
any true enjoyment of a work of art4 ,to
 feel the ancients as we ought1 we must 
have become in some degree one of       
themselves1 and breathed as it were the 
,grecian air4  ,what is the best means  
of becoming imbued with the spirit of   
the ,greeks1 without a knowledge of     
their language8 ,i answer without       
hesitation1--the study of the antique2  
and if this is not always possible      
through the originals1 yet1 by means of 
casts1 it is to a certain extent within 
the power of every man4 ,these models of
 the human form require no              
interpretation2 their elevated character
 is imperishable1 and will always be    
recognized through all vicissitudes of  
time1 and in every region under heaven1 
wherever there exists a noble race of   
men akin to the ,grecian 7as the        
,european undoubtedly is71 and wherever 
the unkindness of nature has not        
degraded the human features too much    

below the pure standard1 and1 by        
habituating them to their own deformity1
 rendered them insensible to genuine    
corporeal beauty4 ,respecting the       
inimitable perfection of the antique in 
its few remains of a first-rate         
character1 there is but one voice       
throughout the whole of civilized       
,europe2 and if ever their merit was    
called in question1 it was in times when
 the modern arts of design had sunk to  
the lowest depths of mannerism4 ,not    
only all intelligent artists1 but all   
men of any degree of taste1 bow with    
enthusiastic adoration before the       
masterly productions of ancient         
sculpture4  ,the best guide to conduct  
us to this sanctuary of the beautiful1  
with deep and thoughtful contemplation1 
is the ,history of ,art by our immortal 
,winkelmann4 ,in the description of     
particular works it no doubt leaves much
 to be desired2 nay1 it even abounds in 
grave errors1 but no man has so deeply  
penetrated into the innermost spirit of 

,grecian art4 ,winkelmann transformed   
himself completely into an ancient1 and 
seemingly lived in his own century1     
unmoved by its spirit and influences4   
,the immediate subject of his work is   
the plastic arts1 but it contains also  
many important hints concerning other   
branches of ,grecian civilisation1 and  
is very useful as a preparation for the 
understanding of their poetry1 and      
especially their dramatic poetry4 ,as   
the latter was designed for visible     
representation before spectators1 whose 
eye must have been as difficult to      
please on the stage as elsewhere1 we    
have no better means of feeling the     
whole dignity of their tragic           
exhibitions1 and of giving it a sort of 
theatrical animation1 than to keep these
 forms of gods and heroes ever present  
to our fancy4 ,the assertion may appear 
somewhat strange at present1 but ,i hope
 in the sequel to demonstrate its       
justice3 it is only before the groups of
 ,niobe or ,laocon that we first enter  

into the spirit of the tragedies of     
,sophocles4  ,we are yet in want of a   
work in which the entire poetic1        
artistic1 scientific1 and social culture
 of the ,greeks should be painted as one
 grand and harmonious whole1 as a true  
work of nature1 prevaded by the most    
wondrous symmetry and proportion of the 
parts1 and traced through its connected 
development in the same spirit which    
,winkelmann has executed in the part    
which he attempted4 ,an attempt has     
indeed been made in a popular work1     
which is in everybody's hands1 ,i mean  
the ,travels of the ,younger            
,anacharsis4 ,this book is valuable for 
its learning1 and may be very useful in 
diffusing a knowledge of antiquities2   
but1 without censuring the error of the 
dress in which it is exhibited1 it      
betrays more good-will to do justice to 
the ,greeks1 than ability to enter      
deeply into their spirit4 ,in this      
respect the work is in many points      
superficial1 and even disfigured with   

modern views4 ,it is not the travels of 
a young ,scythian1 but of an old        
,parisian4  ,the superior excellence of 
the ,greeks in the fine arts1 as ,i have
 already said1 is the most universally  
acknowledged4 ,an enthusiasm for their  
literature is in a great measure        
confined to the ,english and ,germans1  
among whom also the study of the        
,grecian language is the most zealously 
prosecuted4 ,it is singular that the    
,french critics of all others1 they who 
so zealously acknowledge the remains of 
the theoretical writings of the ancients
 on literature1 ,aristotle1 ,horace1    
,quinctilian1 c41 as infallible         
standards of taste1 should yet          
distinguish themselves by the           
contemptuous and irreverent manner in   
which they speak of their poetical      
compositions1 and especially of their   
dramatic literature4 ,look1 for         
instance1 into a book very much         
read1--,la ,harpe's ,cours de           
,littrature4 ,it contains many acute    

remarks on the ,french ,theatre2 but    
whoever should think to learn the       
,greeks from it must be very ill        
advised3 the author was as deficient in 
a solid knowledge of their literature as
 in a sense for appreciating it4        
,voltaire1 also1 often speaks most      
unwarrantably on this subject3 he       
elevates or lowers them at the          
suggestions of his caprice1 or according
 to the purpose of the moment to produce
 such or such an effect on the mind of  
the public4 ,i remember too to have read
 a cursory critique of ,metastasio's on 
the ,greek tragedians1 in which he      
treats them like so many school-boys4   
,racine is much more modest1 and cannot 
be in any manner charged with this sort 
of presumption3 even because he was the 
best acquainted of all of them with the 
,greeks4 ,it is easy to see into the    
motives of these hostile critics4 ,their
 national and personal vanity has much  
to do with the matter2 conceiting       
themselves that they have far surpassed 

the ancients1 they venture to commit    
such observations to the public1 knowing
 that the works of the ancient poets    
have come down to us in a dead language1
 accessible only to the learned1 without
 the animating accompaniment of         
recitation1 music1 ideal and truly      
plastic impersonation1 and scenic pomp2 
all which1 in every respect worthy of   
the poetry1 was on the ,athenian stage  
combined in such wonderful harmony1 that
 if only it could be represented to our 
eye and ear1 it would at once strike    
dumb the whole herd of these noisy and  
interested critics4 ,the ancient statues
 require no commentary2 they speak for  
themselves1 and everything like         
competition on the part of a modern     
artist would be regarded as ridiculous  
pretension4 ,in respect of the theatre1 
they lay great stress on the infancy of 
the art2 and because these poets lived  
two thousand years before us1 they      
conclude that we must have made great   
progress since4 ,in this way poor       

,aeschylus especially is got rid of4    
,but in sober truth1 if this was the    
infancy of dramatic art1 it was the     
infancy of a ,hercules1 who strangled   
serpents in his cradle4  ,i have already
 expressed my opinion on that blind     
partiality for the ancients1 which      
regards their excellence as a frigid    
faultlessness1 and which exhibits them  
as models1 in such a way as to put a    
stop to everything like improvement1 and
 reduce us to abandon the exercise of   
art as altogether fruitless4 ,i1 for my 
part1 am disposed to believe that       
poetry1 as the fervid expression of our 
whole being1 must assume new and        
peculiar forms in different ages4       
,nevertheless1 ,i cherish an            
enthusiastic veneration for the ,greeks1
 as a people endowed1 by the peculiar   
favour of ,nature1 with the most perfect
 genius for art2 in the consciousness of
 which1 they gave to all the nations    
with which they were acquainted1        
compared with themselves1 the           

appellation of barbarians1--an          
appellation in the use of which they    
were in some degree justified4 ,i would 
not wish to imitate certain travellers1 
who1 on returning from a country which  
their readers cannot easily visit1 give 
such exaggerated accounts of it1 and    
relate so many marvels1 as to hazard    
their own character for veracity4 ,i    
shall rather endeavour to characterize  
them as they appear to me after sedulous
 and repeated study1 without concealing 
their defects1 and to bring a living    
picture of the ,grecian stage before the
 eyes of my hearers4  ,we shall treat   
first of the ,tragedy of the ,greeks1   
then of their ,old ,comedy1 and lastly  
of the ,new ,comedy which arose out of  
it4  ,the same theatrical accompaniments
 were common to all the three kinds4 ,we
 must1 therefore1 give a short          
preliminary view of the theatre1 its    
architecture and decorations1 that we   
may have a distinct idea of their       
representation4  ,the histrionic art of 

the ancients had also many              
peculiarities3 the use of masks1 for    
example1 although these were quite      
different in tragedy and comedy2 in the 
former1 ideal1 and in the latter1 at    
least in the ,old ,comedy1 somewhat     
caricatured4  ,in tragedy1 we shall     
first consider what constituted its most
 distinctive peculiarity among the      
ancients3 the ideality of the           
representation1 the prevailing idea of  
destiny1 and the chorus2 and we shall   
lastly treat of their mythology1 as the 
materials of tragic poetry4 ,we shall   
then proceed to characterize1 in the    
three tragedians of whom alone entire   
works still remain1 the different       
styles--that is1 the necessary epochs in
 the history of the tragic art4         
,,lecture ,,iv4  ,structure of the      
,stage among the ,greeks--,their        
,acting--,use of ,masks--,false         
comparison of ,ancient ,tragedy to the  
,opera--,tragical ,lyric ,poetry4       
,when we hear the word theatre1 we      

naturally think of what with us bears   
the same name2 and yet nothing can be   
more different from our theatre1 in its 
entire structure1 than that of the      
,greeks4 ,if in reading the ,grecian    
pieces we associate our own stage with  
them1 the light in which we shall view  
them must be false in every respect4    
,the leading authority on this subject1 
and one1 too1 whose statements are      
mathematically accurate1 is ,vitruvius1 
who also distinctly points out the great
 difference between the ,greek and      
,roman theatres4 ,but these and similar 
passages of the ancient writers have    
been most incorrectly interpreted by    
architects unacquainted with the ancient
 dramatists ,footnote3 ,we have a       
remarkable instance of this in the      
pretended ancient theatre of ,palladio1 
at ,vicenza4 ,herculaneum1 it is true1  
had not then been discovered2 and it is 
difficult to understand the ruins of the
 ancient theatre without having seen a  
complete one42 and philologists1 in     

their turn1 from ignorance of           
architecture1 have also egregiously     
erred4 ,the ancient dramatists are      
still1 therefore1 greatly in want of    
that illustration which a right         
understanding of their scenic           
arrangements is calculated to throw upon
 them4 ,in many tragedies ,i think that 
,i have a tolerably clear notion of the 
matter2 but others1 again1 present      
difficulties which are not easily       
solved4 ,but it is in figuring the      
representation of ,aristophanes'        
comedies that ,i find myself most at a  
loss3 the ingenious poet must have      
brought his wonderful inventions before 
the eyes of his audience in a manner    
equally bold and astonishing4 ,even     
,barthlemy's description of the ,grecian
 stage is not a little confused1 and his
 subjoined plan extremely incorrect2    
where he attempts to describe the acting
 of a play1 the ,antigone or the ,ajax1 
for instance1 he goes altogether wrong4 
,for this reason the following          

explanation will appear the less        
superfluous ,footnote3 ,i am partly     
indebted for them to the elucidations of
 a learned architect1 ,m4 ,genelli1 of  
,berlin1 author of the ingenious        
,letters on ,vitruvius4 ,we have        
compared several ,greek tragedies with  
our interpretation of ,vitruvius's      
description1 and endeavoured to figure  
to ourselves the manner in which they   
were represented2 and ,i afterwards     
found our ideas confirmed by an         
examination of the theatre of           
,herculaneum1 and the two very small    
ones at ,pompeii44  ,the theatres of the
 ,greeks were quite open above1 and     
their dramas were always acted in day1  
and beneath the canopy of heaven4 ,the  
,romans1 indeed1 at an after period1 may
 have screened the audience1 by an      
awning1 from the sun2 but luxury was    
scarcely ever carried so far by the     
,greeks4 ,such a state of things appears
 very uncomfortable to us2 but the      
,greeks had nothing of effeminacy about 

them2 and we must not forget1 too1 the  
mildness of their climate4 ,when a storm
 or a shower came on1 the play was of   
course interrupted1 and the spectators  
sought shelter in the lofty colonnade   
which ran behind their seats2 but they  
were willing rather to put up with such 
occasional inconveniences1 than1 by     
shutting themselves up in a close and   
crowded house1 entirely to forfeit the  
sunny brightness of a religious         
solemnity--for such1 in fact1 their     
plays were ,footnote3 ,they carefully   
made choice of a beautiful situation4   
,the theatre at ,tauromenium1 at present
 ,taormino1 in ,sicily1 of which the    
ruins are still visible1 was1 according 
to ,hunter's description1 situated in   
such a manner that the audience had a   
view of ,etna over the back-ground of   
the theatre44 ,to have covered in the   
scene itself1 and imprisoned gods and   
heroes in a dark and gloomy apartment1  
artificially lighted up1 would have     
appeared still more ridiculous to them4 

,an action which so gloriously attested 
their affinity with heaven1 could fitly 
be exhibited only beneath the free      
heaven1 and1 as it were1 under the very 
eyes of the gods1 for whom1 according to
 ,seneca1 the sight of a brave man      
struggling with adversity is a suitable 
spectacle4 ,with respect to the supposed
 inconvenience1 which1 according to the 
assertion of many modern critics1 hence 
accrued1 compelling the poets always to 
lay the scene of their pieces out of    
doors1 and consequently often forcing   
them to violate probability1 it was very
 little felt by ,tragedy and the ,older 
,comedy4 ,the ,greeks1 like many        
southern nations of the present day1    
lived much more in the open air than we 
do1 and transacted many things in public
 places which with us usually take place
 within doors4 ,besides1 the theatre did
 not represent the street1 but a front  
area belonging to the house1 where the  
altar stood on which sacrifices were    
offered to the household gods4 ,here1   

therefore1 the women1 notwithstanding   
the retired life they led among the     
,greeks1 even those who were unmarried1 
might appear without any impropriety4   
,neither was it impossible for them1 if 
necessary1 to give a view of the        
interior of the house2 and this was     
effected1 as we shall presently see2 by 
means of the ,encyclema4  ,but the      
principal ground of this practice was   
that publicity which1 according to the  
republican notion of the ,greeks1 was   
essential to all grave and important    
transactions4 ,this was signified by the
 presence of the chorus1 whose presence 
during many secret transactions has been
 judged of according to rules of        
propriety inapplicable to the country1  
and so most undeservedly censured4  ,the
 theatres of the ancients were1 in      
comparison with the small scale of ours1
 of colossal magnitude1 partly for the  
sake of containing the whole of the     
people1 with the concourse of strangers 
who flocked to the festivals1 and partly

 to correspond with the majesty of the  
dramas represented in them1 which       
required to be seen at a respectful     
distance4 ,the seats of the spectators  
were formed by ascending steps which    
rose round the semicircle of the        
orchestra1 7called by us the pit17 so   
that all could see with equal           
convenience4 ,the diminution of effect  
by distance was counteracted to the eye 
and ear by artificial contrivances      
consisting in the employment of masks1  
and of an apparatus for increasing the  
loudness of the voice1 and of the       
cothurnus to give additional stature4   
,vitruvius speaks also of vehicles of   
sound1 distributed throughout the       
building2 but commentators are much at  
variance with respect to their nature4  
,in general it may be assumed1 that the 
theatres of the ancients were           
constructed on excellent acoustic       
principles4  ,even the lowest tier of   
the amphitheatre was raised considerably
 above the orchestra1 and opposite to it

 was the stage1 at an equal degree of   
elevation4 ,the hollow semicircle of the
 orchestra was unoccupied by spectators1
 and was designed for another purpose4  
,however1 it was otherwise with the     
,romans1 though indeed the arrangement  
of their theatres does not at present   
concern us4  ,the stage consisted of a  
strip which stretched from one end of   
the building to the other1 and of which 
the depth bore little proportion to this
 breadth4 ,this was called the logeum1  
in ,latin pulpitum1 and the middle of it
 was the usual place for the persons who
 spoke4 ,behind this middle part1 the   
scene went inwards in a quadrangular    
form1 with less depth1 however1 than    
breadth4 ,the space thus enclosed was   
called the proscenium4 ,the front of the
 logeum towards the orchestra was       
ornamented with pilasters and small     
statues between them4 ,the stage1       
erected on a foundation of stonework1   
was a wooden platform resting on        
rafters4 ,the surrounding appurtenances 

of the stage1 together with the rooms   
required for the machinery1 were also of
 wood4 ,the wall of the building1       
directly opposite to the seats of the   
spectators1 was raised to a level with  
the uppermost tier4  ,the scenic        
decoration was contrived in such a      
manner1 that the principal and nearest  
object covered the background1 and the  
prospects of distance were given at the 
two sides2 the very reverse of the mode 
adopted by us4 ,the latter arrangement  
had also its rules3 on the left1 was the
 town to which the palace1 temple1 or   
whatever occupied the middle1 belonged2 
on the right1 the open country1         
landscape1 mountains1 sea-coast1 c4 ,the
 side-scenes were composed of triangles 
which turned on a pivot beneath2 and in 
this manner the change of scene was     
effected4 ,according to an observation  
on ,virgil1 by ,servius1 the change of  
scene was partly produced by revolving1 
and partly by withdrawing4 ,the former  
applies to the lateral decorations1 and 

the latter to the middle of the         
background4 ,the partition in the middle
 opened1 disappeared at both sides1 and 
exhibited to view a new picture4 ,but   
all the parts of the scene were not     
always changed at the same time4 ,in the
 back or central scene1 it is probable1 
that much which with us is only painted 
was given bodily4 ,if this represented a
 palace or temple1 there was usually in 
the proscenium an altar1 which in the   
performance answered a number of        
purposes4  ,the decoration was for the  
most part architectural1 but            
occasionally also a painted landscape1  
as of ,caucasus in the ,prometheus1 or  
in the ,philoctetes1 of the desert      
island of ,lemnos1 and the rocks with   
its cavern4 ,from a passage of ,plato it
 is clear1 that the ,greeks carried the 
illusions of theatrical perspective much
 farther than1 judging from some        
wretched landscapes discovered in       
,herculaneum1 we should be disposed to  
allow4  ,in the back wall of the stage  

there was one main entrance1 and two    
side doors4 ,it has been maintained1    
that from them it might be discovered   
whether an actor played a principal or  
under part1 as in the first case he came
 in by the main entrance1 but in the    
second1 entered from either of the      
sides4 ,but this should be understood   
with the proviso1 that this must have   
varied according to the nature of the   
piece4 ,as the middle scene was         
generally a palace1 in which the        
principal characters generally of royal 
descent resided1 they naturally came on 
the stage through the great door1 while 
the servants dwelt in the wings4 ,but   
besides these three entrances1 which    
were directly opposite to the           
spectators1 and were real doors1 with   
appropriate architectural decorations1  
there were also four side entrances1 to 
which the name of doors cannot properly 
apply3 two1 namely1 on the stage on the 
right and the left1 towards the inner   
angles of the proscenium1 and two       

farther off1 in the orchestra1 also     
right and left4 ,the latter were        
intended properly for the chorus1 but   
were likewise not unfrequently used by  
the actors1 who in such cases ascended  
to the stage by one or other of the     
double flight of steps which ran from   
the orchestra to the middle of the      
logeum4 ,the entering from the right or 
the left of itself indicated the place  
from which the dramatic personages must 
be supposed to come4 ,the situation of  
these entrances serves to explain many  
passages in the ancient dramas1 where   
the persons standing in the middle see  
some one advancing1 long before he      
approaches them4  ,somewhere beneath the
 seats of the spectators1 a flight of   
stairs was constructed1 which was called
 the ,charonic1 and by which1 unseen by 
the audience1 the shadows of the        
departed1 ascended into the orchestra1  
and thence to the stage4 ,the           
furthermost brink of the logeum must    
sometimes have represented the sea      

shore4 ,moreover the ,greeks in general 
skilfully availed themselves even of    
extra-scenic matters1 and made them     
subservient to the stage effect4 ,thus1 
,i doubt not1 but that in the ,eumenides
 the spectators were twice addressed as 
an assembled people2 first1 as the      
,greeks invited by the ,pythoness to    
consult the oracle2 and a second time as
 the ,athenian multitude1 when ,pallas1 
by the herald1 commands silence during  
the trial about to commence4 ,so too the
 frequent appeals to heaven were        
undoubtedly addressed to the real       
heaven2 and when ,electra on her first  
appearance exclaims3 ,o holy light1 and 
thou air co-expansive with earth6 she   
probably turned towards the actual sun  
ascending in the heavens4 ,the whole of 
this procedure is highly deserving of   
praise2 and though modern critics have  
censured the mixture of reality and     
imitation1 as destructive of theatrical 
illusion1 this only proves that they    
have misunderstood the essence of the   

illusion which a work of art aims at    
producing4 ,if we are to be truly       
deceived by a picture1 that is1 if we   
are to believe in the reality of the    
object which we see1 we must not        
perceive its limits1 but look at it     
through an opening2 the frame at once   
declares it for a picture4 ,now in      
stage-scenery we cannot avoid the use of
 architectural contrivances1 productive 
of the same effect on dramatic          
representation as frames on pictures4   
,it is consequently much better not to  
attempt to disguise this fact1 but      
leaving this kind of illusion for those 
cases where it can be advantageously    
employed1 to take it as a permitted     
licence occasionally to step out of the 
limits of mere scenic decoration4 ,it   
was1 generally speaking1 a principle of 
the ,greeks1 with respect to stage      
imitation1 either to require a perfect  
representation1 and where this could not
 be accomplished1 to be satisfied with  
merely symbolical allusions4  ,the      

machinery for the descent of gods       
through the air1 or the withdrawing of  
men from the earth1 was placed aloft    
behind the walls of the two sides of the
 scene1 and consequently removed from   
the sight of the spectators4 ,even in   
the time of ,aeschylus1 great use was   
already made of it1 as in the           
,prometheus he not only brings ,oceanus 
through the air on a griffin1 but also  
in a winged chariot introduces the whole
 choir of ocean nymphs1 at least fifteen
 in number4 ,there were also hollow     
places beneath the stage into which1    
when necessary1 the personages could    
disappear1 and contrivances for thunder 
and lightning1 for the apparent fall or 
burning of a house1 c4  ,to the hindmost
 wall of the scene an upper story could 
be added2 whenever1 for instance1 it was
 wished to represent a tower with a wide
 prospect1 or the like4 ,behind the     
great middle entrance there was a space 
for the ,exostra1 a machine of a        
semicircular form1 and covered above1   

which represented the objects contained 
in it as in a house4 ,this was used for 
grand strokes of theatrical effect1 as  
we may see from many pieces4 ,on such   
occasions the folding-doors of the      
entrance would naturally be open1 or the
 curtain which covered it withdrawn4  ,a
 stage curtain1 which1 we clearly see   
from a description of ,ovid1 was not    
dropped1 but drawn upwards1 is mentioned
 both by ,greek and ,roman writers1 and 
the ,latin appellation1 aulaeum1 is even
 borrowed from the ,greeks4 ,i suspect1 
however1 that the curtain was not much  
used at first on the ,attic stage4 ,in  
the pieces of ,aeschylus and ,sophocles1
 the scene is evidently empty at the    
opening as well as the conclusion1 and  
seems therefore to have required no     
preparation which needed to be shut out 
from the view of the spectators4        
,however1 in many of the pieces of      
,euripides1 and perhaps also in the     
,oedipus ,tyrannus1 the stage is filled 
from the very first1 and presents a     

standing group which could not well have
 been assembled under the very eyes of  
the spectators4 ,it must1 besides1 be   
remembered1 that it was only the        
comparatively small proscenium1 and not 
the logeum1 which was covered by the    
curtain which disappeared through a     
narrow opening between two of the boards
 of the flooring1 being wound up on a   
roller beneath the stage4  ,the         
entrances of the chorus were beneath in 
the orchestra1 in which it generally    
remained1 and in which also it performed
 its solemn dance1 moving backwards and 
forwards during the choral songs4 ,in   
the front of the orchestra1 opposite to 
the middle of the scene1 there was an   
elevation with steps1 resembling an     
altar1 as high as the stage1 which was  
called the ,thymele4 ,this was the      
station of the chorus when it did not   
sing1 but merely looked on as an        
interested spectator of the action4 ,at 
such times the choragus1 or leader of   
the chorus1 took his station on the top 

of the thymele1 to see what was passing 
on the stage1 and to converse with the  
characters there present4 ,for though   
the choral song was common to the whole1
 yet when it took part in the dialogue1 
one usually spoke for all the rest2 and 
hence we may account for the shifting   
from thou to ye in addressing them4 ,the
 thymele was situated in the very centre
 of the building2 all the measurements  
were made from it1 and the semicircle of
 the amphitheatre was described round it
 as the centre4 ,it was1 therefore1 an  
excellent contrivance to place the      
chorus1 who were the ideal              
representatives of the spectators1 in   
the very spot where all the radii       
converged4  ,the tragical imitation of  
the ancients was altogether ideal and   
rhythmical2 and in forming a judgment of
 it1 we must always keep this in view4  
,it was ideal1 in so far as it aimed at 
the highest grace and dignity2 and      
rhythmical1 insomuch as the gestures and
 inflections of voice were more solemnly

 measured than in real life4 ,as the    
statuary of the ,greeks1 setting out1   
with almost scientific strictness1 with 
the most general conception1 sought to  
embody it again in various general      
characters which were gradually invested
 with the charms of life1 so that the   
individual was the last thing to which  
they descended2 in like manner in the   
mimetic art1 they began with the idea   
7the delineation of persons with        
heroical grandeur1 more than human      
dignity1 and ideal beauty71 then passed 
to character1 and made passion the last 
of all2 which1 in the collision with the
 requisitions of either of the others1  
was forced to give way4 ,fidelity of    
representation was less their object    
than beauty2 with us it is exactly the  
reverse4 ,on this principle1 the use of 
masks1 which appears astonishing to us1 
was not only justifiable1 but absolutely
 essential2 far from considering them as
 a makeshift1 the ,greeks would         
certainly1 and with justice too1 have   

looked upon it as a makeshift to be     
obliged to allow a player with vulgar1  
ignoble1 or strongly marked features1 to
 represent an ,apollo or a ,hercules2   
nay1 rather they would have deemed it   
downright profanation4 ,how little is it
 in the power of the most finished actor
 to change the character of his         
features6 ,how prejudicial must this be 
to the expression of passion1 as all    
passion is tinged more or less strongly 
by the character4 ,nor is there any need
 to have recourse to the conjecture that
 they changed the masks in the different
 scenes1 for the purpose of exhibiting a
 greater degree of joy or sorrow4 ,i    
call it conjecture1 though ,barthlemy1  
in his ,anacharsis1 considers it a      
settled point4 ,he cites no authorities1
 and ,i do not recollect any4 ,for the  
expedient would by no means have been   
sufficient1 as the passions often change
 in the same scene1 and this has reduced
 modern critics to suppose1 that the    
masks exhibited different appearances on

 the two sides2 and that now this1 now  
that side was turned towards the        
spectators1 according to circumstances4 
,voltaire1 in his ,essay on the ,tragedy
 of the ,ancients and ,moderns1 prefixed
 to ,semiramis1 has actually gone this  
length4 ,amidst a multitude of supposed 
improprieties which he heaps together to
 confound the admirers of ancient       
tragedy1 he urges the following3 ,aucune
 nation 7that is to say1 excepting the  
,greeks7 ne fait paratre ses acteurs sur
 des espces d'chasses1 le visage couvert
 d'un masque1 qui exprime la douleur    
d'un ct et la joie de l'autre4 ,after a 
conscientious inquiry into the          
authorities for an assertion so very    
improbable1 and yet so boldly made1 ,i  
can only find one passage in            
,quinctilian1 lib4 xi4 cap4 #c1 and an  
allusion of ,platonius still more vague4
 7,vide ,aristoph4 ed4 ,kster1 prolegom4
 p4 x47 ,both passages refer only to the
 new comedy1 and only amount to this1   
that in some characters the eyebrows    

were dissimilar4 ,as to the intention of
 this1 ,i shall say a word or two       
hereafter1 when ,i come to consider the 
new ,greek comedy4 ,voltaire1 however1  
is without excuse1 as the mention of the
 cothurnus leaves no doubt that he      
alluded to tragic masks4 ,but his error 
had probably no such learned origin4 ,in
 most cases1 it would be a fruitless    
task to trace the source of his         
mistakes4 ,the whole description of the 
,greek tragedy1 as well as that of the  
cothurnus in particular1 is worthy of   
the man whose knowledge of antiquity was
 such1 that in his ,essay on ,tragedy1  
prefixed to ,brutus1 he boasts of having
 introduced the ,roman ,senate on the   
stage in red mantles4 ,no2 the          
countenance remained from beginning to  
end the very same1 as we may see from   
the ancient masks cut out in stone4 ,for
 the expression of passion1 the glances 
of the eye1 the motion of the arms and  
hands1 the attitudes1 and1 lastly1 the  
tones of the voice1 remained there4 ,we 

complain of the loss of the play of the 
features1 without reflecting1 that at   
such a great distance1 its effect would 
have been altogether lost4  ,we are not 
now inquiring whether1 without the use  
of masks1 it may not be possible to     
attain a higher degree of separate      
excellence in the mimetic art4 ,this we 
would very willingly allow4 ,cicero1 it 
is true1 speaks of the expression1 the  
softness1 and delicacy of the acting of 
,roscius1 in the same terms that a      
modern critic would apply to ,garrick or
 ,schrder4 ,but ,i will not lay any     
stress on the acting of this celebrated 
player1 the excellence of which has     
become proverbial1 because it appears   
from a passage in ,cicero that he       
frequently played without a mask1 and   
that this was preferred3 by his         
contemporaries4 ,i doubt1 however1      
whether this was ever the case among the
 ,greeks4 ,but the same writer relates1 
that actors in general1 for the sake of 
acquiring the most perfect purity and   

flexibility of voice 7and not merely the
 musical voice1 otherwise the example   
would not have been applicable to the   
orator71 submitted to such a course of  
uninterrupted exercises1 as our modern  
players1 even the ,french1 who of all   
follow the strictest training1 would    
consider a most intolerable oppression4 
,for the display of dexterity in the    
mimetic art1 without the accompaniment  
of words1 was carried by the ancients in
 their pantomimes1 to a degree of       
perfection quite unknown to the moderns4
 ,in tragedy1 however1 the great object 
in the art was the due subordination of 
every element2 the whole was to appear  
animated by one and the same spirit1 and
 hence1 not merely the poetry1 but the  
musical accompaniment1 the scenical     
decoration1 and training of the actors1 
all issued from the poet4 ,the player   
was a mere instrument in his hands1 and 
his merit consisted in the accuracy with
 which he filled his part1 and by no    
means in arbitrary bravura1 or          

ostentatious display of his own skill4  
,as from the nature of their writing    
materials1 they had not a facility of   
making many copies1 the parts were      
learnt from the repeated recitation of  
the poet1 and the chorus was exercised  
in the same manner4 ,this was called    
teaching a play4 ,as the poet was also a
 musician1 and for the most part a      
player likewise1 this must have greatly 
contributed to the perfection of the    
performance4  ,we may safely allow that 
the task of the modern player1 who must 
change his person without concealing it1
 is much more difficult2 but this       
difficulty affords no just criterion for
 deciding which of the two the          
preference must be awarded1 as a skilful
 representation of the noble and the    
beautiful4  ,as the features of the     
player acquired a more decided          
expression from the mask1 as his voice  
was strengthened by a contrivance       
attached to the mask1 so the cothurnus1 
consisting of several soles of          

considerable thickness1 as may be seen  
in the ancient statues of ,melpomene1   
raised his figure considerably above the
 usual standard4 ,the female parts were 
also played by men1 as the voice and    
general carriage of women would have    
been inadequate to the energy of tragic 
heroines4  ,the forms of the masks1     
,footnote3 ,we have obtained a knowledge
 of them from the imitations in stone   
which have come down to us4 ,they       
display both beauty and variety4 ,that  
great variety must have taken place in  
the tragical department 7in the comic we
 can have no doubt about the matter7 is 
evident from the rich store of technical
 expressions in the ,greek language1 for
 every gradation of the age1 and        
character of masks4 ,see the            
,onomasticon of ,jul4 ,pollux4 ,in the  
marble masks1 however1 we can neither   
see the thinness of the mass from which 
the real masks were executed1 the more  
delicate colouring1 nor the exquisite   
mechanism of the fittings4 ,the         

abundance of excellent workmen possessed
 by ,athens1 in everything which had a  
reference to the plastic arts1 will     
warrant the conjecture that they were in
 this respect inimitable4 ,those who    
have seen the masks of wax in the grand 
style1 which in some degree contain the 
whole head1 lately contrived at the     
,roman carnival1 may form to themselves 
a pretty good idea of the theatrical    
masks of the ancients4 ,they imitate    
life1 even to its movements1 in a most  
masterly manner1 and at such a distance 
as that from which the ancient players  
were seen1 the deception is most        
perfect4 ,they always contain the white 
of the eye1 as we see it in the ancient 
masks1 and the person covered sees      
merely through the aperture left for the
 iris4 ,the ancients must sometimes have
 gone still farther1 and contrived also 
an iris for the masks1 according to the 
anecdote of the singer ,thamyris1 who1  
in a piece which was probably of        
,sophocles1 made his appearance with a  

black eye4 ,even accidental             
circumstances were imitated2 for        
instance1 the cheeks of ,tyro1 streaming
 blood from the cruel conduct of his    
stepmother4 ,the head from the mask must
 no doubt have appeared somewhat large  
for the rest of the figure2 but this    
disproportion1 in tragedy at least1     
would not be perceived from the         
elevation of the cothurnus4 and the     
whole appearance of the tragic figures1 
we may easily suppose1 were sufficiently
 beautiful and dignified4 ,we should do 
well to have the ancient sculpture      
always present to our minds2 and the    
most accurate conception1 perhaps1 that 
we can possibly have1 is to imagine them
 so many statues in the grand style     
endowed with life and motion4 ,but1 as  
in sculpture1 they were fond of         
dispensing as much as possible with     
dress1 for the sake of exhibiting the   
more essential beauty of the figure2 on 
the stage they would endeavour1 from an 
opposite principle1 to clothe as much as

 they could well do1 both from a regard 
to decency1 and because the actual forms
 of the body would not correspond       
sufficiently with the beauty of the     
countenance4 ,they would also exhibit   
their divinities1 which in sculpture we 
always observe either entirely naked1 or
 only half covered1 in a complete dress4
 ,they had recourse to a number of means
 for giving a suitable strength to the  
forms of the limbs1 and thus restoring  
proportion to the increased height of   
the player4  ,the great breadth of the  
theatre in proportion to its depth must 
have given to the grouping of the       
figures the simple and distinct order of
 the bas-relief4 ,we moderns prefer on  
the stage1 as elsewhere1 groups of a    
picturesque description1 with figures   
more closely crowded together1 and      
partly concealing one another1 and      
partly retiring into the distance2 but  
the ancients were so little fond of     
foreshortening1 that even in their      
painting they generally avoided it4     

,their movement kept time with the      
rhythmus of the declamation1 and in this
 accompaniment the utmost grace and     
beauty were aimed at4 ,the poetical     
conception required a certain degree of 
repose in the action1 and the keeping   
together certain masses1 so as to       
exhibit a succession of statuesque      
situations1 and it is not improbable    
that the player remained for some time  
motionless in one attitude4 ,but we are 
not to suppose from this1 that the      
,greeks were contented with a cold and  
feeble representation of the passions4  
,how could we reconcile such a          
supposition with the fact1 that whole   
lines of their tragedies are frequently 
dedicated to inarticulate exclamations  
of pain1 with which we have nothing to  
correspond in any of our modern         
languages8  ,it has been often          
conjectured that the delivery of their  
dialogue resembled the modern           
recitative4 ,for such a conjecture there
 is no other foundation than the fact   

that the ,greek1 like almost all        
southern languages1 was pronounced with 
a greater musical inflexion than ours of
 the ,north4 ,in other respects their   
tragic declamation must1 ,i conceive1   
have been altogether unlike recitative1 
being both much more measured1 and also 
far removed from its studied and        
artificial modulation4  ,so1 again1 the 
ancient tragedy1 because it was         
accompanied with music and dancing1     
,footnote3 ,even ,barthlemy falls into  
this error in a note to the #gjth       
,chapter of ,anacharsis4 has also been  
frequently compared with the opera4 ,but
 this comparison betrays an utter       
ignorance of the spirit of classical    
antiquity4 ,their dancing and music had 
nothing but the name in common with     
ours4 ,in tragedy the primary object was
 the poetry1 and everything else was    
strictly and truly subordinate to it4   
,but in the opera the poetry is merely  
an accessory1 the means of connecting   
the different parts together2 and it is 

almost lost amidst its many and more    
favoured accompaniments4 ,the best      
prescription for the composition of an  
opera is1 take a rapid poetical sketch  
and then fill up and colour the outlines
 by the other arts4 ,this anarchy of the
 arts1 where music1 dancing1 and        
decoration are seeking to outvie each   
other by the profuse display of their   
most dazzling charms1 constitutes the   
very essence of the opera4 ,what sort of
 opera-music would it be1 which should  
set the words to a mere rhythmical      
accompaniment of the simplest           
modulations8 ,the fantastic magic of the
 opera consists altogether in the       
revelry of emulation between the        
different means1 and in the medley of   
their profusion4 ,this charm would at   
once be destroyed by any approximation  
to the severity of the ancient taste in 
any one point1 even in that of the      
costume2 for the contrast would render  
the variety in all the other departments
 even the more insupportable4 ,gay1     

tinselled1 spangled draperies suit best 
to the opera2 and hence many things     
which have been censured as unnatural1  
such as exhibiting heroes warbling and  
trilling in the excess of despondency1  
are perfectly justifiable4 ,this fairy  
world is not peopled by real men1 but by
 a singular kind of singing creatures4  
,neither is it any disadvantage that the
 opera is brought before us in a        
language which we do not generally      
understand2 the words are altogether    
lost in the music1 and the language     
which is most harmonious and musical1   
and contains the greatest number of open
 vowels for the airs1 and distinct      
accents for recitative1 is therefore the
 best4 ,it would be as incongruous to   
attempt to give to the opera the        
simplicity of the ,grecian ,tragedy1 as 
it is absurd to think of comparing them 
together4  ,in the syllabic composition1
 which then at least prevailed          
universally in ,grecian music1 the      
solemn choral song1 of which we may form

 to ourselves some idea from our artless
 national airs1 and more especially from
 our church-tunes1 had no other         
instrumental accompaniment than a single
 flute1 which was such as not in the    
slightest degree to impair the          
distinctness of the words4 ,otherwise it
 must hare increased the difficulty of  
the choruses and lyrical songs1 which1  
in general1 are the part which we find  
it the hardest to understand of the     
ancient tragedy1 and as it must also    
have been for contemporary auditors4    
,they abound in the most involved       
constructions1 the most unusual         
expressions1 and the boldest images and 
recondite allusions4 ,why then should   
the poets have lavished such labour and 
art upon them1 if it were all to be lost
 in the delivery8 ,such a display of    
ornament without an object would have   
been very unlike ,grecian ways of       
thinking4  ,in the syllabic measures of 
their tragedies1 there generally        
prevails a highly finished regularity1  

but by no means a stiff symmetrical     
uniformity4 ,besides the infinite       
variety of the lyrical strophes1 which  
the poet invented for each occasion1    
they have also a measure to suit the    
transition in the tone of mind from the 
dialogue to the lyric1 the anapest2 and 
two for the dialogue itself1 one of     
which1 by far the most usual1 the iambic
 trimeter1 denoted the regular progress 
of the action1 and the other1 the       
trochaic tetrameter1 was expressive of  
the impetuousness of passion4 ,it would 
lead us too far into the depths of      
metrical science1 were we to venture at 
present on a more minute account of the 
structure and significance of these     
measures4 ,i merely wished to make this 
remark1 as so much has been said of the 
simplicity of the ancient tragedy1      
which1 no doubt1 exists in the general  
plan1 at least in the two oldest poets2 
whereas in the execution and details the
 richest variety of poetical ornament is
 employed4 ,of course it must be evident

 that the utmost accuracy in the        
delivery of the different modes of      
versification was expected from the     
player1 as the delicacy of the ,grecian 
ear would not excuse1 even in an orator1
 the false quantity of a single         
syllable4     ,,lecture ,v4  ,essence of
 the ,greek ,tragedies--,ideality of the
 ,representation--,idea of              
,fate--,source of the ,pleasure derived 
from ,tragical ,representations--,import
 of the ,chorus--,the materials of      
,greek ,tragedy derived from            
,mythology-- ,comparison with the       
,plastic ,arts4   ,we come now to the   
essence of ,greek tragedy4 ,that in     
conception it was ideal1 is universally 
allowed2 this1 however1 must not be     
understood as implying that all its     
characters were depicted as morally     
perfect4 ,in such a case what room could
 there be for that contrast and         
collision which the very plot of a drama
 requires8--,they have their weaknesses1
 errors1 and even crimes1 but the       

manners are always elevated above       
reality1 and every person is invested   
with as high a portion of dignity as was
 compatible with his part in the action4
 ,but this is not all4 ,the ideality of 
the representation chiefly consisted in 
the elevation of every thing in it to a 
higher sphere4 ,tragic poetry wished to 
separate the image of humanity which it 
presented to us1 from the level of      
nature to which man is in reality       
chained down1 like a slave of the soil4 
,how was this to be accomplished8 ,by   
exhibiting to us an image hovering in   
the air8 ,but this would have been      
incompatible with the law of gravitation
 and with the earthly materials of which
 our bodies are framed4 ,frequently1    
what is praised in art as ideal is      
really nothing more4 ,but this would    
give us nothing more than airy          
evanescent shadows incapable of making  
any durable impression on the mind4 ,the
 ,greeks1 however1 in their artistic    
creations1 succeeded most perfectly1 in 

combining the ideal with the real1 or1  
to drop school terms1 an elevation more 
than human with all the truth of life1  
and in investing the manifestation of an
 idea with energetic corporeity4 ,they  
did not allow their figures to flit     
about without consistency in empty      
space1 but they fixed the statue of     
humanity on the eternal and immovable   
basis of moral liberty2 and that it     
might stand there unshaken1 formed it of
 stone or brass1 or some more massive   
substance than the bodies of living men1
 making an impression by its very       
weight1 and from its very elevation and 
magnificence only the more completely   
subject to the laws of gravity4  ,inward
 liberty and external necessity are the 
two poles of the tragic world4 ,it is   
only by contrast with its opposite that 
each of these ideas is brought into full
 manifestation4 ,as the feeling of an   
internal power of self-determination    
elevates the man above the unlimited    
dominion of impulse and the instincts of

 nature2 in a word1 absolves him from   
nature's guardianship1 so the necessity1
 which alongside of her he must         
recognize1 is no mere natural necessity1
 but one lying beyond the world of sense
 in the abyss of infinitude2            
consequently it exhibits itself as the  
unfathomable power of ,destiny4 ,hence  
this power extends also to the world of 
gods3 for the ,grecian gods are mere    
powers of nature2 and although          
immeasurably higher than mortal man1    
yet1 compared with infinitude1 they are 
on an equal footing with himself4 ,in   
,homer and in the tragedians1 the gods  
are introduced in a manner altogether   
different4 ,in the former their         
appearance is arbitrary and accidental1 
and communicate to the epic poem no     
higher interest than the charm of the   
wonderful4 ,but in ,tragedy the gods    
either come forward as the servants of  
destiny1 and mediate executors of its   
decrees2 or else approve themselves     
godlike only by asserting their liberty 

of action1 and entering upon the same   
struggles with fate which man himself   
has to encounter4  ,this is the essence 
of the tragical in the sense of the     
ancients4 ,we are accustomed to give to 
all terrible or sorrowful events the    
appellation of tragic1 and it is certain
 that such events are selected in       
preference by ,tragedy1 though a        
melancholy conclusion is by no means    
indispensably necessary2 and several    
ancient tragedies1 viz41 the ,eumenides1
 ,philoctetes1 and in some degree also  
the ,oedipus ,coloneus1 without         
mentioning many of the pieces of        
,euripides1 have a happy and cheerful   
termination4  ,but why does ,tragedy    
select subjects so awfully repugnant to 
the wishes and the wants of our sensuous
 nature8 ,this question has often been  
asked1 and seldom satisfactorily        
answered4 ,some have said that the      
pleasure of such representations arises 
from the comparison we make between the 
calmness and tranquillity of our own    

situation1 and the storms and           
perplexities to which the victims of    
passion are exposed4 ,but when we take a
 warm interest in the persons of a      
tragedy1 we cease to think of ourselves2
 and when this is not the case1 it is   
the best of all proofs that we take but 
a feeble interest in the exhibited      
story1 and that the tragedy has failed  
in its effect4 ,others again have had   
recourse to a supposed feeling for moral
 improvement1 which is gratified by the 
view of poetical justice in the reward  
of the good and the punishment of the   
wicked4 ,but he for whom the aspect of  
such dreadful examples could really be  
wholesome1 must be conscious of a base  
feeling of depression1 very far removed 
from genuine morality1 and would        
experience humiliation rather than      
elevation of mind4 ,besides1 poetical   
justice is by no means indispensable to 
a good tragedy2 it may end with the     
suffering of the just and the triumph of
 the wicked1 if only the balance be     

preserved in the spectator's own        
consciousness by the prospect of        
futurity4 ,little does it mend the      
matter to say with ,aristotle1 that the 
object of tragedy is to purify the      
passions by pity and terror4 ,in the    
first place commentators have never been
 able to agree as to the meaning of this
 proposition1 and have had recourse to  
the most forced explanations of it4     
,look1 for instance1 into the           
,dramaturgie of ,lessing4 ,lessing gives
 a new explanation of his own1 and      
fancies he has found in ,aristotle a    
poetical ,euclid4 ,but mathematical     
demonstrations are liable to no         
misconception1 and geometrical evidence 
may well be supposed inapplicable to the
 theory of the fine arts4 ,supposing1   
however1 that tragedy does operate this 
moral cure in us1 still she does so by  
the painful feelings of terror and      
compassion3 and it remains to be proved 
how it is that we take a pleasure in    
subjecting ourselves to such an         

operation4  ,others have been pleased to
 say that we are attracted to theatrical
 representations from the want of some  
violent agitation to rouse us out of the
 torpor of our every-day life4 ,such a  
craving does exist2 ,i have already     
acknowledged the existence of this want1
 when speaking of the attractions of the
 drama2 but to it we must equally       
attribute the fights of wild beasts     
among the ,romans1 nay1 even the combats
 of the gladiators4 ,but must we1 less  
indurated1 and more inclined to tender  
feelings1 require demi-gods and heroes  
to descend1 like so many desperate      
gladiators1 into the bloody arena of the
 tragic stage1 in order to agitate our  
nerves by the spectacle of their        
sufferings8 ,no3 it is not the sight of 
suffering which constitutes the charm of
 a tragedy1 or even of the games of the 
circus1 or of the fight of wild beasts4 
,in the latter we see a display of      
activity1 strength1 and courage2        
splendid qualities these1 and related to

 the mental and moral powers of man4    
,the satisfaction1 therefore1 which we  
derive from the representation1 in a    
good tragedy1 of powerful situations and
 overwhelming sorrows1 must be ascribed 
either to the feeling of the dignity of 
human nature1 excited in us by such     
grand instances of it as are therein    
displayed1 or to the trace of a higher  
order of things1 impressed on the       
apparently irregular course of events1  
and mysteriously revealed in them2 or   
perhaps to both these causes conjointly4
  ,the true reason1 therefore1 why      
tragedy need not shun even the harshest 
subject is1 that a spiritual and        
invisible power can only be measured by 
the opposition which it encounters from 
some external force capable of being    
appreciated by the senses4 ,the moral   
freedom of man1 therefore1 can only be  
displayed in a conflict with his        
sensuous impulses3 so long as no higher 
call summons it to action1 it is either 
actually dormant within him1 or appears 

to slumber1 since otherwise it does but 
mechanically fulfil its part as a mere  
power of nature4 ,it is only amidst     
difficulties and struggles that the     
moral part of man's nature avouches     
itself4 ,if1 therefore1 we must explain 
the distinctive aim of tragedy by way of
 theory1 we would give it thus3 that to 
establish the claims of the mind to a   
divine origin1 its earthly existence    
must be disregarded as vain and         
insignificant1 all sorrows endured and  
all difficulties overcome4  ,with       
respect to everything connected with    
this point1 ,i refer my hearers to the  
,section on the ,sublime in ,kant's     
,criticism of the ,judgment 7,kritik der
 ,urtheilskraft71 to the complete       
perfection of which nothing is wanting  
but a more definite idea of the tragedy 
of the ancients1 with which he does not 
seem to have been very well acquainted4 
,i come now to another peculiarity which
 distinguishes the tragedy of the       
ancients from ours1 ,i mean the ,chorus4

 ,we must consider it as a personified  
reflection on the action which is going 
on2 the incorporation into the          
representation itself of the sentiments 
of the poet1 as the spokesman of the    
whole human race4 ,this is its general  
poetical character2 and that is all that
 here concerns us1 and that character is
 by no means affected by the            
circumstance that the ,chorus had a     
local origin in the feasts of ,bacchus1 
and that1 moreover1 it always retained  
among the ,greeks a peculiar national   
signification2 publicity being1 as we   
have already said1 according to their   
republican notions1 essential to the    
completeness of every important         
transaction4 ,if in their compositions  
they reverted to the heroic ages1 in    
which monarchical polity was yet in     
force1 they nevertheless gave a certain 
republican cast to the families of their
 heroes1 by carrying on the action in   
presence either of the elders of the    
people1 or of other persons who         

represented some correspondent rank or  
position in the social body4 ,this      
publicity does not1 it is true1 quite   
correspond with ,homer's picture of the 
manners of the heroic age2 but both     
costume and mythology were handled by   
dramatic poetry with the same spirit of 
independence and conscious liberty4     
,these thoughts1 then1 and these modes  
of feeling led to the introduction of   
the ,chorus1 which1 in order not to     
interfere with the appearance of reality
 which the whole ought to possess1 must 
adjust itself to the ever- varying      
requisitions of the exhibited stories4  
,whatever it might be and do in each    
particular piece1 it represented in     
general1 first the common mind of the   
nation1 and then the general sympathy of
 all mankind4 ,in a word1 the ,chorus is
 the ideal spectator4 ,it mitigates the 
impression of a heart- rending or moving
 story1 while it conveys to the actual  
spectator a lyrical and musical         
expression of his own emotions1 and     

elevates him to the region of           
contemplation4  ,modern critics have    
never known what to make of the ,chorus2
 and this is the less to be wondered at1
 as ,aristotle affords no satisfactory  
solution of the matter4 ,its office is  
better painted by ,horace1 who ascribes 
to it a general expression of moral     
sympathy1 exhortation1 instruction1 and 
warning4 ,but the critics in question   
have either believed that its chief     
object was to prevent the stage from    
ever being altogether empty1 whereas in 
truth the stage was not at all the      
proper place for the ,chorus2 or else   
they have censured it as a superfluous  
and cumbersome appendage1 expressing    
their astonishment at the alleged       
absurdity of carrying on secret         
transactions in the presence of         
assembled multitudes4 ,they have also   
considered it as the principal reason   
with the ,greek tragedians for the      
strict observance of the unity of place1
 as it could not be changed without the 

removal of the ,chorus2 an act1 which   
could not have been done without some   
available pretext4 ,or lastly1 they have
 believed that the ,chorus owed its     
continuance from the first origin of    
,tragedy merely to accident2 and as it  
is plain that in ,euripides1 the last of
 the three great tragic poets1 the      
choral songs have frequently little or  
no connexion with the fable1 and are    
nothing better than a mere episodical   
ornament1 they therefore conclude that  
the ,greeks had only to take one more   
step in the progress of dramatic art1 to
 explode the ,chorus altogether4 ,to    
refute these superficial conjectures1 it
 is only necessary to observe that      
,sophocles wrote a ,treatise on the     
,chorus1 in prose1 in opposition to the 
principles of some other poets2 and     
that1 far from following blindly the    
practice which he found established1    
like an intelligent artist he was able  
to assign reasons for his own doings4   
,modern poets of the first rank have    

often1 since the revival of the study of
 the ancients1 attempted to introduce   
the ,chorus in their own pieces1 for the
 most part without a correct1 and always
 without a vivid idea of its real       
import4 ,they seem to have forgotten    
that we have neither suitable singing or
 dancing1 nor1 as our theatres are      
constructed1 any convenient place for   
it4 ,on these accounts it is hardly     
likely to become naturalized with us4   
,the ,greek tragedy1 in its pure and    
unaltered state1 will always for our    
theatres remain an exotic plant1 which  
we can hardly hope to cultivate with any
 success1 even in the hot-house of      
learned art and criticism4 ,the ,grecian
 mythology1 which furnishes the         
materials of ancient tragedy1 is as     
foreign to the minds and imaginations of
 most of the spectators1 as its form and
 manner of representation4 ,but to      
endeavour to force into that form       
materials of a wholly different nature1 
an historical one1 for example1 to      

assume that form1 must always be a most 
unprofitable and hopeless attempt4  ,i  
have called mythology the chief         
materials of tragedy4 ,we know1 indeed1 
of two historical tragedies by ,grecian 
authors3 the ,capture of ,miletus1 of   
,phrynichus1 and the ,persians1 of      
,aeschylus1 a piece which still exists2 
but these singular exceptions both      
belong to an epoch when the art had not 
attained its full maturity1 and among so
 many hundred examples of a different   
description1 only serve to establish    
more strongly the truth of the rule4    
,the sentence passed by the ,athenians  
on ,phrynichus1 in which they condemned 
him to a pecuniary fine because he had  
painfully agitated them by representing 
on the stage a contemporary calamity1   
which with due caution they might1      
perhaps1 have avoided2 however hard and 
arbitrary it may appear in a judicial   
point of view1 displays1 however1 a     
correct feeling of the proprieties and  
limits of art4 ,oppressed by the        

consciousness of the proximity and      
reality of the represented story1 the   
mind cannot retain that repose and      
self-possession which are necessary for 
the reception of pure tragical          
impressions4 ,the heroic fables1 on the 
other hand1 came to view at a certain   
remoteness2 and surrounded with a       
certain halo of the marvellous4 ,the    
marvellous possesses the advantage that 
it can1 in some measure1 be at once     
believed and disbelieved3 believed in so
 far as it is supported by its connexion
 with other opinions2 disbelieved while 
we never take such an immediate interest
 in it as we do in what wears the hue of
 the every-day life of our own          
experience4 ,the ,grecian mythology was 
a web of national and local traditions1 
held in equal honour as a sequence of   
religion1 and as an introduction to     
history2 everywhere preserved in full   
vitality among the people by ceremonies 
and monuments1 already elaborated for   
the requirements of art and the higher  

species of poetry by the diversified    
manner in which it has been handled1 and
 by the numerous epic or merely mythical
 poets4 ,the tragedians had only1       
therefore1 to engraft one species of    
poetry on another4 ,certain postulates1 
and those invariably serviceable to the 
air of dignity and grandeur1 and the    
removing of all meanness of idea1 were  
conceded to them at the very outset4    
,everything1 down to the very errors and
 weaknesses of that departed race of    
heroes who claimed their descent from   
the gods1 was ennobled by the sanctity  
of legend4 ,those heroes were painted as
 beings endowed with more than human    
strength2 but1 so far from possessing   
unerring virtue and wisdom1 they were   
even depicted as under the dominion of  
furious and unbridled passions4 ,it was 
an age of wild effervescence2 the hand  
of social order had not as yet brought  
the soil of morality into cultivation1  
and it yielded at the same time the most
 beneficent and poisonous productions1  

with the fresh luxuriant fulness of     
prolific nature4 ,here the occurrence of
 the monstrous and horrible did not     
necessarily indicate that degradation   
and corruption out of which alone1 under
 the development of law and order1 they 
could arise1 and which1 in such a state 
of things1 make them fill us with       
sentiments of horror and aversion4 ,the 
guilty beings of the fable are1 if we   
may be allowed the expression1 exempt   
from human jurisdiction1 and amenable to
 a higher tribunal alone4 ,some1 indeed1
 have advanced the opinion1 that the    
,greeks1 as zealous republicans1 took a 
particular pleasure in witnessing the   
representation of the outrages and      
consequent calamities of the different  
royal families1 and are almost disposed 
to consider the ancient tragedy in      
general as a satire on monarchical      
government4 ,such a party- view1        
however1 would have deadened the        
sympathy of the audience1 and           
consequently destroyed the effect which 

it was the aim of the tragedy to        
produce4  ,besides1 it must be remarked 
that the royal families1 whose crimes   
and consequent sufferings afforded the  
most abundant materials for affecting   
tragical pictures1 were the ,pelopidae  
of ,mycenae1 and the ,labdacidae of     
,thebes1 families who had nothing to do 
with the political history of the       
,athenians1 for whom the pieces were    
composed4 ,we do not see that the ,attic
 poets ever endeavoured to exhibit the  
ancient kings of their country in an    
odious light2 on the contrary1 they     
always hold up their national hero1     
,theseus1 for public admiration1 as a   
model of justice and moderation1 the    
champion of the oppressed1 the first    
lawgiver1 and even as the founder of    
liberty4 ,it was also one of their      
favourite modes of flattering the       
people1 to show to them ,athens1 even in
 the heroic ages1 as distinguished above
 all the other states of ,greece1 for   
obedience to the laws1 for humanity1 and

 acknowledgment of the national rights  
of the ,hellenes4 ,that universal       
revolution1 by which the independent    
kingdoms of ancient ,greece were        
converted into a community of small free
 states1 had separated the heroic age   
from the age of social cultivation1 by a
 wide interval1 beyond which a few      
families only attempted to trace their  
genealogy4 ,this was extremely          
advantageous for the ideal elevation of 
the characters of ,greek tragedy1 as few
 human things will admit of a very close
 inspection without betraying some      
imperfections4 ,to the very different   
relations of the age in which those     
heroes lived1 the standard of mere civil
 and domestic morality is not           
applicable1 and to judge of them the    
feeling must go back to the primary     
ingredients of human nature4 ,before the
 existence of constitutions1--when as   
yet the notions of law and right were   
undeveloped1--the sovereigns were their 
own lawgivers1 in a world which as yet  

was dependent on them2 and the fullest  
scope was thus given to the energetic   
will1 either for good or for evil4      
,moreover1 an age of hereditary kingdom 
naturally exhibited more striking       
instances of sudden changes of fortune  
than the later times of political       
equality4 ,it was in this respect that  
the high rank of the principal          
characters was essential1 or at least   
favourable to tragic impressiveness2 and
 not1 as some moderns have pretended1   
because the changing fortunes of such   
persons exercise a material influence on
 the happiness or misery of numbers1 and
 therefore they alone are sufficiently  
important to interest us in their       
behalf2 nor1 again1 because internal    
elevation of sentiment must be clothed  
with external dignity1 to call forth our
 respect and admiration4 ,the ,greek    
tragedians paint the downfall of kingly 
houses without any reference to its     
effects on the condition of the people2 
they show us the man in the king1 and1  

far from veiling their heroes from our  
sight by their purple mantles1 they     
allow us to look1 through their vain    
splendour1 into a bosom torn and        
harrowed with grief and passion4 ,that  
the main essential was not so much the  
regal dignity as the heroic costume1 is 
evident from those tragedies of the     
moderns which have been written under   
different circumstances indeed1 but     
still upon this supposed principle3     
such1 ,i mean1 as under the existence of
 monarchy have taken their subject from 
kings and courts4 ,prom the existing    
reality they dare not draw1 for nothing 
is less suitable for tragedy than a     
court and a court life4 ,wherever1      
therefore1 they do not paint an ideal   
kingdom1 with the manners of some remote
 age1 they invariably fall into         
stiffness and formality1 which are much 
more fatal to boldness of character1 and
 to depth of pathos1 than the monotonous
 and equable relations of private life4 
,a few mythological fables alone seem   

originally marked out for tragedy3 such1
 for example1 as the long-continued     
alternation of crime1 revenge1 and      
curses1 which we witness in the house of
 ,atreus4 ,when we examine the names of 
the pieces which are lost1 we have great
 difficulty in conceiving how the       
mythological fables 7such1 at least1 as 
they are known to us17 could have       
furnished sufficient materials for the  
compass of an entire tragedy4 ,it is    
true1 the poets1 in the various editions
 of the same story1 had a great latitude
 of selection2 and this very fluctuation
 of tradition justified them in going   
still farther1 and making considerable  
alterations in the circumstances of an  
event1 so that the inventions employed  
for this purpose in one piece sometimes 
contradict the story as given by the    
same poet in another4 ,we must1 however1
 principally explain the prolific       
capability of mythology1 for the        
purposes of tragedy1 by the principle   
which we observe in operation throughout

 the history of ,grecian mind and art2  
that1 namely1 the tendency which        
predominated for the time1 assimilated  
everything else to itself4 ,as the      
heroic legend with all its manifold     
discrepancies was easily developed into 
the tranquil fulness and light variety  
of epic poetry1 so afterwards it readily
 responded to the demands which the     
tragic writers made upon it for         
earnestness1 energy1 and compression2   
and whatever in this sifting process of 
transformation fell out as inapplicable 
to tragedy1 afforded materials for a    
sort of half sportive1 though still     
ideal representation1 in the subordinate
 species called the satirical drama4  ,i
 hope ,i shall be forgiven1 if ,i       
attempt to illustrate the above         
reflections on the essence of ,ancient  
,tragedy1 by a comparison borrowed from 
the plastic arts1 which will1 ,i trust1 
be found somewhat more than a mere      
fanciful resemblance4  ,the ,homeric    
epic is1 in poetry1 what bas-relief is  

in sculpture1 and tragedy the distinct  
isolated group4  ,the poetry of ,homer1 
sprung from the soil of legend1 is not  
yet wholly detached from it1 even as the
 figures of a bas-relief adhere to an   
extraneous backing of the original      
block4 ,these figures are but slightly  
raised1 and in the epic poem all is     
painted as past and remote4 ,in bas-    
relief the figures are usually in       
profile1 and in the epos all are        
characterized in the simplest manner in 
relief2 they are not grouped together1  
but follow one another2 so ,homer's     
heroes advance1 one by one1 in          
succession before us4 ,it has been      
remarked that the ,iliad is not         
definitively closed1 but that we are    
left to suppose something both to       
precede and to follow it4 ,the          
bas-relief is equally without limit1 and
 may be continued ad infinitum1 either  
from before or behind1 on which account 
the ancients preferred for it such      
subjects as admitted of an indefinite   

extension1 sacrificial processions1     
dances1 and lines of combatants1 c4     
,hence they also exhibited bas-reliefs  
on curved surfaces1 such as vases1 or   
the frieze of a rotunda1 where1 by the  
curvature1 the two ends are withdrawn   
from our sight1 and where1 while we     
advance1 one object appears as another  
disappears4 ,reading ,homer is very much
 like such a circuit2 the present object
 alone arresting our attention1 we lose 
sight of that which precedes1 and do not
 concern ourselves about what is to     
follow4  ,but in the distinct           
outstanding group1 and in ,tragedy1     
sculpture and poetry alike bring before 
our eyes an independent and definite    
whole4 ,to distinguish it from natural  
reality1 the former places it on a base 
as on an ideal ground1 detaching from it
 as much as possible all foreign and    
accidental accessories1 that the eye may
 rest wholly on the essential objects1  
the figures themselves4 ,these figures  
the sculptor works out with their whole 

body and contour1 and as he rejects the 
illusion of colours1 announces by the   
solidity and uniformity of the mass in  
which they are constructed1 a creation  
of no perishable existence1 but endowed1
 with a higher power of endurance4      
,beauty is the aim of sculpture1 and    
repose is most advantageous for the     
display of beauty4 ,repose alone1       
therefore1 is suitable to the single    
figure4 ,but a number of figures can    
only be combined together into unity1   
i4e41 grouped by an action4 ,the group  
represents beauty in motion1 and its aim
 is to combine both in the highest      
degree of perfection4 ,this can be      
effected even while portraying the most 
violent bodily or mental anguish1 if    
only the artist finds means so to temper
 the expression by some trait of manly  
resistance1 calm grandeur1 or inherent  
sweetness1 that1 with all the most      
moving truth1 the lineaments of beauty  
shall yet be undefaced4 ,the observation
 of ,winkelmann on this subject is      

inimitable4 ,he says1 that beauty with  
the ancients was the tongue on the      
balance of expression1 and in this sense
 the groups of ,niobe and ,laocon are   
master- pieces2 the one in the sublime  
and severe2 the other in the studied and
 ornamental style4  ,the comparison with
 ancient tragedy is the more apposite   
here1 as we know that both ,aeschylus   
and ,sophocles produced a ,niobe1 and   
that ,sophocles was also the author of a
 ,laocon4 ,in the group of the ,laocon  
the efforts of the body in enduring1 and
 of the mind in resisting1 are balanced 
in admirable equipoise4 ,the children   
calling for help1 tender objects of     
compassion1 not of admiration1 recal our
 eyes to the father1 who seems to be in 
vain uplifting his eyes to the gods4    
,the wreathed serpents represent to us  
that inevitable destiny which often     
involves all the parties of an action in
 one common ruin4 ,and yet the beauty of
 proportion1 the agreeable flow of the  
outline1 are not lost in this violent   

struggle2 and a representation1 the most
 appalling to the senses1 is yet managed
 with forbearance1 while a mild breath  
of gracefulness is diffused over the    
whole4  ,in the group of ,niobe there is
 the same perfect mixture of terror and 
pity4 ,the upturned looks of the mother1
 and the mouth half open in             
supplication1 seem yet to accuse the    
invisible wrath of heaven4 ,the         
daughter1 clinging in the agonies of    
death to the bosom of her mother1 in her
 childish innocence has no fear but for 
herself3 the innate impulse of          
self-preservation was never more        
tenderly and affectingly expressed4 ,on 
the other hand1 can there be a more     
beautiful image of self-devoting1 heroic
 magnanimity than ,niobe1 as she bends  
forward to receive1 if possible1 in her 
own body the deadly shaft8 ,pride and   
defiance dissolve in the depths of      
maternal love4 ,the more than earthly   
dignity of the features are the less    
marred by the agony1 as under the rapid 

accumulation of blow upon blow she      
seems1 as in the deeply significant     
fable1 already petrifying into the stony
 torpor4 ,but before this figure1 thus  
twice struck into stone1 and yet so full
 of life and soul1--before this stony   
terminus of the limits of human         
endurance1 the spectator melts into     
tears4  ,amid all the agitating emotions
 which these groups give rise to1 there 
is still a something in their aspect    
which attracts the mind and gives rise  
to manifold contemplation2 so the       
ancient tragedy leads us forward to the 
highest reflections involved in the very
 sphere of things it sets before        
us--reflections on the nature and the   
inexplicable mystery of man's being4    
,,lecture ,,vi4  ,progress of the       
,tragic ,art among the ,greeks--,various
 styles of ,tragic ,art                 
--,aeschylus--,connexion in a ,trilogy  
of ,aeschylus--,his remaining ,works4   
,of the inexhaustible stores possessed  
by the ,greeks in the department of     

tragedy1 which the public competition at
 the ,athenian festivals called into    
being 7as the rival poets always        
contended for a prize71 very little     
indeed has come down to us4 ,we only    
possess works of three of their numerous
 tragedians1 ,aeschylus1 ,sophocles1 and
 ,euripides1 and of these but a few in  
proportion to the whole number of their 
compositions4 ,the extant dramas are    
such as were selected by the            
,alexandrian critics as the foundation  
for the study of the older ,grecian     
literature1 not because they alone were 
deserving of estimation1 but because    
they afforded the best illustration of  
the various styles of tragic art4 ,of   
each of the two older poets1 we have    
seven pieces remaining2 in these1       
however1 we have1 according to the      
testimony of the ancients1 several of   
their most distinguished productions4   
,of ,euripides we have a much greater   
number1 and we might well exchange many 
of them for other works which are now   

lost2 for example1 for the satirical    
dramas of ,achaeus1 ,aeschylus1 and     
,sophocles1 or1 for the sake of         
comparison with ,aeschylus1 for some of 
,phrynichus' pieces1 or of ,agathon's1  
whom ,plato describes as effeminate1 but
 sweet and affecting1 and who was a     
contemporary of ,euripides1 though      
somewhat his junior4  ,leaving to       
antiquarians to sift the stories about  
the waggon of the strolling ,thespis1   
the contests for the prize of a he-goat1
 from which the name of tragedy is said 
to be derived1 and the lees of wine with
 which the first improvisatory actors   
smeared over their visages1 from which  
rude beginnings1 it is pretended1       
,aeschylus1 by one gigantic stride1 gave
 to tragedy that dignified form under   
which it appears in his works1 we shall 
proceed immediately to the consideration
 of the poets themselves4  ,the tragic  
style of ,aeschylus 7,i use the word    
style in the sense it receives in       
sculpture1 and not in the exclusive     

signification of the manner of writing17
 is grand1 severe1 and not unfrequently 
hard3 that of ,sophocles is marked by   
the most finished symmetry and          
harmonious gracefulness3 that of        
,euripides is soft and luxuriant2       
overflowing in his easy copiousness1 he 
often sacrifices the general effect to  
brilliant passages4 ,the analogies which
 the undisturbed development of the fine
 arts among the ,greeks everywhere      
furnishes1 will enable us1 throughout to
 compare the epochs of tragic art with  
those of sculpture4 ,aeschylus is the   
,phidias of ,tragedy1 ,sophocles her    
,polycletus1 and ,euripides her         
,lysippus4 ,phidias formed sublime      
images of the gods1 but lent them an    
extrinsic magnificence of material1 and 
surrounded their majestic repose with   
images of the most violent struggles in 
strong relief4 ,polycletus carried his  
art to perfection of proportion1 and    
hence one of his statues was called the 
,standard of ,beauty4 ,lysippus         

distinguished himself by the fire of his
 works2 but in his time ,sculpture had  
deviated from its original destination1 
and was much more desirous of expressing
 the charm of motion and life than of   
adhering to ideality of form4           
,aeschylus is to be considered as the   
creator of ,tragedy3 in full panoply she
 sprung from his head1 like ,pallas from
 the head of ,jupiter4 ,he clad her with
 dignity1 and gave her an appropriate   
stage2 he was the inventor of scenic    
pomp1 and not only instructed the chorus
 in singing and dancing1 but appeared   
himself as an actor4 ,he was the first  
that expanded the dialogue1 and set     
limits to the lyrical part of tragedy1  
which1 however1 still occupies too much 
space in his pieces4 ,his characters are
 sketched with a few bold and strong    
touches4 ,his plots are simple in the   
extreme3 he did not understand the art  
of enriching and varying an action1 and 
of giving a measured march and progress 
to the complication and denouement4     

,hence his action often stands still2 a 
circumstance which becomes yet more     
apparent1 from the undue extension of   
his choral songs4 ,but all his poetry   
evinces a sublime and earnest mind4     
,terror is his element1 and not the     
softer affections1 he holds up a head of
 ,medusa before the petrified           
spectators4 ,in his handling ,destiny   
appears austere in the extreme2 she     
hovers over the heads of mortals in all 
her gloomy majesty4 ,the cothurnus of   
,aeschylus has1 as it were1 the weight  
of iron3 gigantic figures stalk in upon 
it4 ,it seems as if it required an      
effort for him to condescend to paint   
mere men2 he is ever bringing in gods1  
but especially the ,titans1 those elder 
divinities who typify the gloomy powers 
of primaeval nature1 and who had been   
driven long ago into ,tartarus before   
the presence of a new and better order  
of things4 ,he endeavours to swell out  
his language to a gigantic sublimity1   
corresponding to the vast dimensions of 

his personages4 ,hence he abounds in    
harsh compounds and over-strained       
epithets1 and the lyrical parts of his  
pieces are often1 from their involved   
construction1 extremely obscure4 ,in the
 singular strangeness of his images and 
expressions he resembles ,dante and     
,shakspeare4 ,yet in these images there 
is no want of that terrific grace which 
almost all the writers of antiquity     
commend in ,aeschylus4  ,aeschylus      
flourished in the very freshness and    
vigour of ,grecian freedom1 and a proud 
sense of the glorious struggle by which 
it was won1 seems to have animated him  
and his poetry4 ,he had been an         
eye-witness of the greatest and most    
glorious event in the history of        
,greece1 the overthrow and annihilation 
of the ,persian hosts under ,darius and 
,xerxes1 and had fought with            
distinguished bravery in the memorable  
battles of ,marathon and ,salamis4 ,in  
the ,persians he has1 in an indirect    
manner1 sung the triumph which he       

contributed to obtain1 while he paints  
the downfall of the ,persian ascendancy1
 and the ignominious return of the      
despot1 with difficulty escaping with   
his life1 to his royal residence4 ,the  
battle of ,salamis he describes in the  
most vivid and glowing colours4 ,through
 the whole of this piece1 and the ,seven
 before ,thebes1 there gushes forth a   
warlike vein2 the personal inclination  
of the poet for a soldier's life1 shines
 throughout with the most dazzling      
lustre4 ,it was well remarked by        
,gorgias1 the sophist1 that ,mars1      
instead of ,bacchus1 had inspired this  
last drama2 for ,bacchus1 and not       
,apollo1 was the tutelary deity of      
tragic poets1 which1 on a first view of 
the matter1 appears somewhat singular1  
but then we must recollect that ,bacchus
 was not merely the god of wine and joy1
 but also the god of all higher kinds of
 inspiration4  ,among the remaining     
pieces of ,aeschylus1 we have what is   
highly deserving of our attention--a    

complete ,trilogy4 ,the antiquarian     
account of the trilogies is this3 that  
in the more early times the poet did not
 contend for the prize with a single    
piece1 but with three1 which1 however1  
were not always connected together in   
their subjects1 and that to these was   
added a fourth1--namely1 a satiric      
drama4 ,all were acted in one day1 one  
after another4 ,the idea which1 in      
relation to the tragic art1 we must form
 of the trilogy1 is this3 a tragedy     
cannot be indefinitely lengthened and   
continued1 like the ,homeric ,epos for  
instance1 to which whole rhapsodies have
 been appended2 tragedy is too          
independent and complete within itself  
for this2 nevertheless1 several         
tragedies may be connected together in  
one great cycle by means of a common    
destiny running through the actions of  
all4 ,hence the restriction to the      
number three admits of a satisfactory   
explanation4 ,it is the thesis1 the     
antithesis1 and the synthesis4 ,the     

advantage of this conjunction was that1 
by the consideration of the connected   
fables1 a more complete gratification   
was furnished than could possibly be    
obtained from a single action4 ,the     
subjects of the three tragedies might be
 separated by a wide interval of time1  
or follow close upon one another4  ,the 
three pieces which form the trilogy of  
,aeschylus1 are the ,agamemnon1 the     
,choephorae or1 we should call it1      
,electra1 and the ,eumenides or ,furies4
 ,the subject of the first is the murder
 of ,agamemnon by ,clytemnestra1 on his 
return from ,troy4 ,in the second1      
,orestes avenges his father by killing  
his mother3 facto pius et sceleratus    
eodem4 ,this deed1 although enjoined by 
the most powerful motives1 is1 however1 
repugnant to the natural and moral order
 of things4 ,orestes1 as a prince1 was1 
it is true1 called upon to exercise     
justice1 even on the members of his own 
family2 but we behold him here under the
 necessity of stealing in disguise into 

the dwelling of the tyrannical usurper  
of his throne1 and of going to work like
 an assassin4 ,the memory of his father 
pleads his excuse2 but however much     
,clytemnestra may have deserved her     
death1 the voice of blood cries from    
within4 ,this conflict of natural duties
 is represented in the ,eumenides in the
 form of a contention among the gods1   
some of whom approve of the deed of     
,orestes1 while others persecute him1   
till at last ,divine ,wisdom1 in the    
persona of ,minerva1 balances the       
opposite claims1 establishes peace1 and 
puts an end to the long series of crime 
and punishment which have desolated the 
royal house of ,atreus4  ,a considerable
 interval takes place between the period
 of the first and second pieces1 during 
which ,orestes grows up to manhood4 ,the
 second and third are connected together
 immediately in order of time4 ,upon the
 murder of his mother1 ,orestes flees   
forthwith to ,delphi1 where we find him 
at the commencement of the ,eumenides4  

,in each of the two first pieces1 there 
is a visible reference to the one which 
follows4 ,in ,agamemnon1 ,cassandra and 
the chorus1 at the close1 predict to the
 haughty ,clytemnestra and her paramour1
 ,aegisthus1 the punishment which awaits
 them at the hands of ,orestes4 ,in the 
,choephorae1 ,orestes1 upon the         
execution of the deed of retribution1   
finds that all peace is gone3 the furies
 of his mother begin to persecute him1  
and he announces his resolution of      
taking refuge in ,delphi4  ,the         
connexion is therefore evident          
throughout2 and we may consider the     
three pieces1 which were connected      
together even in the representation1 as 
so many acts of one great and entire    
drama4 ,i mention this as a preliminary 
justification of the practice of        
,shakspeare and other modern poets1 to  
connect together in one representation a
 larger circle of human destinies1 as we
 can produce to the critics who object  
to this the supposed example of the     

ancients4  ,in ,agamemnon1 it was the   
intention of ,aeschylus to exhibit to us
 a sudden fall from the highest pinnacle
 of prosperity and renown into the abyss
 of ruin4 ,the prince1 the hero1 the    
general of the combined forces of the   
,greeks1 in the very moment of success  
and the glorious achievement of the     
destruction of ,troy1 the fame of which 
is to be re-echoed from the mouths of   
the greatest poets of all ages1 in the  
very act of crossing the threshold of   
his home1 after which he had so long    
sighed1 and amidst the fearless security
 of preparations for a festival1 is     
butchered1 according to the expression  
of ,homer1 like an ox in the stall1     
slain by his faithless wife1 his throne 
usurped by her worthless seducer1 and   
his children consigned to banishment or 
to hopeless servitude4  ,with the view  
of giving greater effect to this        
dreadful reverse of fortune1 the poet   
endeavours to throw a greater splendour 
over the destruction of ,troy4 ,he has  

done this in the first half of the piece
 in a manner peculiar to himself1 which1
 however singular1 must be allowed to be
 impressive in the extreme1 and well    
fitted to lay fast hold of the          
imagination4 ,it is of importance to    
,clytemnestra that she should not be    
surprised by the sudden arrival of her  
husband2 she has therefore arranged an  
uninterrupted series of signal fires    
from ,troy to ,mycenae1 to announce to  
her that great event4 ,the piece        
commences with the speech of a watchman1
 who supplicates the gods for a         
deliverance from his labours1 as for ten
 long years he has been exposed to the  
cold dews of night1 has witnessed the   
changeful course of the stars1 while    
looking in vain for the expected signal2
 at the same time he sighs in secret    
over the corruption which reigns within 
the royal house4 ,at this moment he sees
 the long- wished-for beacon blazing up1
 and hastens to announce it to his      
mistress4 ,a chorus of aged persons     

appears1 and in their songs they go     
through the whole history of the ,trojan
 ,war1 through all its eventful         
fluctuations of fortune1 from its       
origin1 and recount all the prophecies  
relating to it1 and the sacrifice of    
,iphigenia1 by which the sailing of the 
,greeks was purchased4 ,clytemnestra    
explains to the chorus the joyful cause 
of the sacrifice which she orders2 and  
the herald ,talthybius immediately makes
 his appearance1 who1 as an eye-witness1
 relates the drama of the conquered and 
plundered city1 consigned as a prey to  
the flames1 the joy of the victors1 and 
the glory of their leader4 ,with        
reluctance1 as if unwilling to check    
their congratulatory prayers1 he        
recounts to them the subsequent         
misfortunes of the ,greeks1 their       
dispersion1 and the shipwreck suffered  
by many of them1 an immediate symptom of
 the wrath of the gods4 ,it is obvious  
how little the unity of time was        
observed by the poet1--how much1 on the 

contrary1 he avails himself of the      
prerogative of his mental dominion over 
the powers of nature1 to give wings to  
the circling hours in their course      
towards the dreadful goal4 ,agamemnon   
now arrives1 borne in a sort of         
triumphal car2 and seated on another1   
laden with booty1 follows ,cassandra1   
his prisoner of war1 and concubine also1
 according to the customary privilege of
 heroes4 ,clytemnestra greets him with  
hypocritical joy and veneration2 she    
orders her slaves to cover the ground   
with the most costly embroideries of    
purple1 that it might not be touched by 
the foot of the conqueror4 ,agamemnon1  
with wise moderation1 refuses to accept 
an honour due only to the gods2 at last 
he yields to her solicitations1 and     
enters the palace4 ,the chorus then     
begins to utter its dark forebodings4   
,clytemnestra returns to allure1 by     
friendly speeches1 ,cassandra also to   
destruction4 ,the latter is silent and  
unmoved1 but the queen is hardly gone1  

when1 seized with prophetic furor1 she  
breaks out into the most confused and   
obscure lamentations1 but presently     
unfolds her prophecies more distinctly  
to the chorus2 in spirit she beholds all
 the enormities which have been         
perpetrated within that house--the      
repast of ,thyestes1 which the sun      
refused to look upon2 the ghosts of the 
mangled children appear to her on the   
battlements of the palace4 ,she also    
sees the death which is preparing for   
her lord2 and1 though shuddering at the 
reek of death1 as if seized with        
madness1 she rushes into the house to   
meet her own inevitable doom1 while from
 behind the scene we hear the groans of 
the dying ,agamemnon4 ,the palace opens2
 ,clytemnestra stands beside the body of
 her king and husband2 like an insolent 
criminal1 she not only confesses the    
deed1 but boasts of and justifies it1 as
 a righteous requital for ,agamemnon's  
sacrifice of ,iphigenia to his own      
ambition4 ,her jealousy of ,cassandra1  

and criminal connexion with the         
worthless ,aegisthus1 who does not      
appear till after the completion of the 
murder and towards the conclusion of the
 piece1 are motives which she hardly    
touches on1 and throws entirely into the
 background4 ,this was necessary to     
preserve the dignity of the subject2    
for1 indeed1 ,clytemnestra could not    
with propriety have been portrayed as a 
frail seduced woman--she must appear    
with the features of that heroic age1 so
 rich in bloody catastrophes1 in which  
all passions were violent1 and men1 both
 in good and evil1 surpassed the        
ordinary standard of later and more     
degenerated ages4 ,what is more         
revolting--what proves a deeper         
degeneracy of human nature1 than horrid 
crimes conceived in the bosom of        
cowardly effeminacy8 ,if such crimes are
 to be portrayed by the poet1 he must   
neither seek to palliate them1 nor to   
mitigate our horror and aversion of     
them4 ,moreover1 by bringing the        

sacrifice of ,iphigenia thus immediately
 before us1 the poet has succeeded in   
lessening the indignation which         
otherwise the foul and painful fate of  
,agamemnon is calculated to awaken4 ,he 
cannot be pronounced wholly innocent2 a 
former crime recoils on his own head3   
besides1 according to the religious idea
 of the ancients1 an old curse hung over
 his house4 ,aegisthus1 the author of   
his destruction1 is a son of that very  
,thyestes on whom his father ,atreus    
took such an unnatural revenge2 and this
 fateful connexion is vividly brought   
before our minds by the chorus1 and more
 especially by the prophecies of        
,cassandra4  ,i pass over the subsequent
 piece of the ,choephorae for the       
present2 ,i shall speak of it when ,i   
come to institute a comparison between  
the manner in which the three poets have
 handled the same subject4  ,the fable  
of the ,eumenides is1 as ,i have already
 said1 the justification of ,orestes1   
and his absolution from                 

blood-guiltiness3 it is a trial1 but a  
trial where the accusers and the        
defenders and the presiding judges are  
gods4 ,and the manner in which the      
subject is treated corresponds with its 
majesty and importance4 ,the scene      
itself brought before the eyes of the   
,greeks all the highest objects of      
veneration that they acknowledged4  ,it 
opens in front of the celebrated temple 
at ,delphi1 which occupies the          
background2 the aged ,pythia enters in  
sacerdotal pomp1 addresses her prayers  
to all the gods who at any time         
presided1 or still preside1 over the    
oracle1 harangues the assembled people  
7represented by the actual audience71   
and goes into the temple to seat herself
 on the tripod4 ,she returns full of    
consternation1 and describes what she   
has seen in the temple3 a man1 stained  
with blood1 supplicating protection1    
surrounded by sleeping women with snaky 
hair2 she then makes her exit by the    
same entrance as she came in by4 ,apollo

 now appears with ,orestes1 who is in a 
traveller's garb1 and carries a sword   
and olive-branch in his hands4 ,he      
promises him his farther protection1    
enjoins him to flee to ,athens1 and     
commends him to the care of the present 
but invisible ,mercury1 to whose        
safeguard travellers1 and especially    
those who were under the necessity of   
journeying by stealth1 were usually     
consigned4  ,orestes goes off at the    
side which was supposed to lead to      
foreign lands2 ,apollo re-enters his    
temple1 which remains open1 and the     
,furies are seen in the interior1       
sleeping on the benches4 ,clytemnestra's
 ghost now ascends by the charonic      
stairs1 and1 passing through the        
orchestra1 appears on the stage4 ,we are
 not to imagine it a haggard skeleton1  
but a figure with the appearance of     
life1 though paler1 with the wound still
 open in her breast1 and shrouded in    
ethereal-coloured vestments4 ,she calls 
on the ,furies1 in the language of      

vehement reproach1 and then disappears1 
probably through a trap-door4 ,the      
,furies awake1 and not finding ,orestes1
 they dance in wild commotion round the 
stage1 while they sing the choral song4 
,apollo again comes out of the temple1  
and drives them away1 as profaning his  
sanctuary4 ,we may imagine him appearing
 with the sublime displeasure of the    
,apollo of the ,vatican1 with bow and   
quiver1 but also clad with tunic and    
chlamys4  ,the scene now changes2 but as
 the ,greeks on such occasions were fond
 of going the shortest way to work1 the 
background probably remained unchanged1 
and was now supposed to represent the   
temple of ,minerva1 on the ,areopagus1  
while the lateral decorations were      
converted into ,athens and its          
surrounding landscape4 ,orestes now     
enters1 as from foreign land1 and1 as a 
suppliant1 embraces the statue of       
,pallas standing before the temple4 ,the
 chorus 7who1 according to the poet's   
own description1 were clothed in black1 

with purple girdles1 and serpents in    
their hair1 in masks having perhaps     
something of the terrific beauty of     
,medusa-heads1 and marking too their    
great age on the principles of          
sculpture7 follows close on his steps1  
but for the rest of the piece remains   
below in the orchestra4 ,the ,furies had
 at first behaved themselves like beasts
 of prey1 furious at the escape of their
 booty1 but now1 hymning with tranquil  
dignity the high and terrible office    
they had among mortals1 they claim the  
head of ,orestes1 as forfeited to them1 
and devote it with mysterious charms to 
endless torment4 ,at the intercession of
 the suppliant1 ,pallas1 the            
warrior-virgin1 appears in a chariot    
drawn by four horses4 ,she inquires the 
cause of his invocation1 and listens    
with calm dignity to the mutual         
complaints of ,orestes and his          
adversaries1 and1 at the solicitation of
 the two parties1 finally undertakes1   
after due reflection1 the office of     

umpire4 ,the assembled judges take their
 seats on the steps of the temple--the  
herald commands silence among the people
 by sound of trumpet1 just as in a real 
trial4 ,apollo advances to advocate the 
cause of his suppliant1 the ,furies in  
vain protest against his interference1  
and the arguments for and against the   
deed are debated between them in short  
speeches4 ,the judges cast their ballots
 into the urn1 ,pallas throws in a white
 one2 all is wrought up to the highest  
pitch of expectation2 ,orestes1 in agony
 of suspense1 exclaims to his           
protector--    ,o ,phoebus ,apollo1 how 
will the cause be decided8  ,the ,furies
 on the other hand3    ,o ,night1 black 
,mother1 seest thou these doings8  ,upon
 counting the black and white pebbles1  
they are found equal in number1 and the 
accused1 therefore1 by the decision of  
,pallas1 is acquitted4 ,he breaks out   
into joyful thanksgiving1 while the     
,furies on the other hand declaim       
against the overbearing arrogance of    

these younger gods1 who take such       
liberties with those of ,titanic race4  
,pallas bears their rage with           
equanimity1 addresses them in the       
language of kindness1 and even of       
veneration2 and these so indomitable    
beings are unable to withstand the      
charms of her mild eloquence4 ,they     
promise to bless the land which is under
 her tutelary protection1 while on her  
part ,pallas assigns them a sanctuary in
 the ,attic domain1 where they are to be
 called the ,eumenides1 that is1 the    
,benevolent ,goddesses4 ,the whole ends 
with a solemn procession round the      
theatre1 with hymns of blessing1 while  
bands of children1 women1 and old men1  
in purple robes and with torches in     
their hands1 accompany the ,furies in   
their exit4  ,let us now take a         
retrospective view of the whole trilogy4
 ,in the ,agamemnon we have a           
predominance of free-will both in the   
plan and execution of the deed3 the     
principal character is a great criminal1

 and the piece ends with the revolting  
impressions produced by the sight of    
triumphant tyranny and crime4 ,i have   
already pointed out the allusions it    
contains to a preceding destiny4  ,the  
deed committed in the ,choephorae is    
partly enjoined by ,apollo as the       
appointment of fate1 and partly         
originates in natural motives3 ,orestes'
 desire of avenging his father1 and his 
brotherly love for the oppressed        
,electra4 ,it is only after the         
execution of the deed that the struggle 
between the most sacred feelings becomes
 manifest1 and here again the sympathies
 of the spectators are excited without  
being fully appeased4  ,from its very   
commencement1 the ,eumenides stands on  
the very summit of tragical elevation3  
all the past is here1 as it were1       
concentrated into a focus4 ,orestes has 
become the mere passive instrument of   
fate2 and free agency is transferred to 
the more elevated sphere of the gods4   
,pallas is properly the principal       

character4 ,that opposition between the 
most sacred relations1 which often      
occurs in life as a problem not to be   
solved by man1 is here represented as a 
contention in the world of the gods4    
,and this brings me to the pregnant     
meaning of the whole4 ,the ancient      
mythology is in general symbolical1     
although not allegorical2 for the two   
are certainly distinct4 ,allegory is the
 personification of an idea1 a poetic   
story invented solely with such a view2 
but that is symbolical which1 created by
 the imagination for other purposes1 or 
possessing an independent reality of its
 own1 is at the same time easily        
susceptible of an emblematical          
explanation2 and even of itself suggests
 it4  ,the ,titans in general symbolize 
the dark and mysterious powers of       
primaeval nature and mind2 the younger  
gods1 whatsoever enters more immediately
 within the circle of consciousness4    
,the former are more nearly allied to   
original chaos1 the latter belong to a  

world already reduced to order4 ,the    
,furies denote the dreadful powers of   
conscience1 in so far as it rests on    
obscure feelings and forebodings1 and   
yields to no principles of reason4 ,in  
vain ,orestes dwells on the just motives
 which urged him to the deed1 the cry of
 blood still sounds in his ear4 ,apollo 
is the god of youth1 of the noble       
ebullition of passionate indignation1 of
 bold and daring action4 ,accordingly   
this deed was commanded by him4 ,pallas 
is thoughtful wisdom1 justice1 and      
moderation1 which alone can allay the   
conflict of reason and passion4  ,even  
the sleep of the ,furies in the temple  
is symbolical2 for only in the          
sanctuary1 in the bosom of religion1 can
 the fugitive find rest from the        
torments of conscience4 ,scarcely1      
however1 has he ventured forth again    
into the world1 when the image of his   
murdered mother appears1 and again      
awakes them4 ,the very speech of        
,clytemnestra betrays its symbolical    

import1 as much as the attributes of the
 ,furies1 the serpents1 and their       
sucking of blood4 ,the same may be said 
of ,apollo's aversion for them2 in fact1
 this symbolical character runs through 
the whole4 ,the equal cogency of the    
motives for and against the deed is     
denoted by the equally divided votes of 
the judges4 ,and if at last a sanctuary 
within the ,athenian territory is       
offered to the softened ,furies1 this is
 as much as to say that reason is not   
everywhere to enforce its principles    
against involuntary instinct1 that there
 are in the human mind certain          
boundaries which are not to be passed1  
and all contact with which even every   
person possessed of a true sentiment of 
reverence will cautiously avoid1 if he  
would preserve peace within4  ,so much  
for the deep philosophical meaning which
 we need not wonder to find in this     
poet1 who1 according to the testimony of
 ,cicero1 was a ,pythagorean4 ,aeschylus
 had also political views4 ,foremost of 

these was the design of rendering       
,athens illustrious4 ,delphi was the    
religious centre of ,greece1 and yet how
 far it is thrown into the shade by him6
 ,it can shelter ,orestes1 indeed1 from 
the first onset of persecution1 but not 
afford him a complete liberation2 this  
is reserved for the land of law and     
humanity4 ,but1 a further1 and in truth1
 his principal object was to recommend  
as essential to the welfare of ,athens  
the ,areopagus ,footnote3 ,i do not find
 that this aim has ever been expressly  
ascribed to ,aeschylus by any ancient   
writer4 ,it is1 however1 too plain to be
 mistaken1 and is revealed especially in
 the speech of ,pallas1 beginning with  
the #fhjth verse4 ,it agrees1 moreover1 
with the account1 that in the very year 
when the piece was represented1 7,olymp4
 lxxx4 #a47 a certain ,ephialtes excited
 the people against the ,areopagus1     
which was the best guardian of the old  
and more austere constitution1 and kept 
democratic extravagance in check4 ,this 

,ephialtes was murdered one night by an 
unknown hand4 ,aeschylus received the   
first prize in the theatrical games1 but
 we know that he left ,athens           
immediately afterwards1 and passed his  
remaining years in ,sicily4 ,it is      
possible that1 although the theatrical  
judges did him justice1 he might be held
 in aversion by the populace1 and that  
this induced him1 without any express   
sentence of banishment1 to leave his    
native city4 ,the story of the sight of 
the terrible chorus of ,furies having   
thrown children into mortal convulsions1
 and caused women to miscarry1 appears  
to be fabulous4 ,a poet would hardly    
have been crowned1 who had been the     
occasion of profaning the festival by   
such occurrences41 an uncorruptible yet 
mild tribunal1 in which the white ballot
 of ,pallas given in favour of the      
accused is an invention which does      
honour to the humanity of the           
,athenians4 ,the poet shows how a       
portentous series of crimes led to an   

institution fraught with blessings to   
humanity4  ,but it will be asked1 are   
not extrinsic aims of this kind         
prejudicial to the pure poetical        
impressions which the composition ought 
to produce8 ,most undoubtedly1 if       
pursued in the manner in which other    
poets1 and especially ,euripides1 have  
followed them out4 ,but in ,aeschylus   
the aim is subservient to the poetry1   
rather than the poetry to the aim4 ,he  
does not lower himself to a             
circumscribed reality1 but1 on the      
contrary1 elevates it to a higher       
sphere1 and connects it with the most   
sublime conceptions4  ,in the ,oresteia 
7for so the trilogy or three connected  
pieces was called17 we certainly possess
 one of the sublimest poems that ever   
was conceived by the imagination of man1
 and1 probably1 the ripest and most     
perfect of all the productions of his   
genius4 ,the date of the composition of 
them confirms this supposition3 for     
,aeschylus was at least sixty years of  

age when he brought these dramas on the 
stage1 the last with which he ever      
competed for the prize at ,athens4 ,but1
 indeed1 every one of his pieces that   
has come down to us1 is remarkable      
either for displaying some peculiar     
property of the poet1 or1 as indicative 
of the step in art at which he stood at 
the date of its composition4  ,i am     
disposed to consider the ,suppliants one
 of his more early works4 ,it probably  
belonged to a trilogy1 and stood between
 two other tragedies on the same        
subject1 the names of which are still   
preserved1 namely the ,egyptians and the
 ,danaidae4 ,the first1 we may suppose1 
described the flight of the ,danaidae   
from ,egypt to avoid the detested       
marriage with their cousins2 the second 
depicts the protection which they sought
 and obtained in ,argos2 while the third
 would contain the murder of the        
husbands who were forced upon them4 ,we 
are disposed to view the two first      
pieces as single acts1 introductory to  

the tragical action which properly      
commences in the last4 ,but the tragedy 
of the ,suppliants1 while it is complete
 in itself1 and forms a whole1 is yet1  
when viewed in this position1 defective1
 since it is altogether without         
reference to or connexion with what     
precedes and what follows4 ,in the      
,suppliants the chorus not only takes a 
part in the action1 as in the           
,eumenides1 but it is even the principal
 character that attracts and commands   
our interest4 ,this cast of the tragedy 
is neither favourable for the display of
 peculiarity of character1 nor the      
exciting emotion by the play of powerful
 passions2 or1 to speak in the language 
of ,grecian art1 it is unfavourable both
 to ethos and to pathos4 ,the chorus has
 but one voice and one soul3 to have    
marked the disposition common to fifty  
young women 7for the chorus of ,danaidae
 certainly amounted to this number17 by 
any exclusive peculiarities1 would have 
been absurd in the very nature of       

things3 over and above the common       
features of humanity such a multitude   
could only be painted with those common 
to their sex1 their age1 and1 perhaps1  
those of their nation4 ,in respect to   
the last1 the intention of ,aeschylus is
 more conspicuous than his success3 he  
lays a great stress on the foreign      
descent of the ,danaidae2 but this he   
does but assert of them1 without        
allowing the foreign character to be    
discovered in their words and discourse4
 ,the sentiments1 resolutions1 and      
actions of a multitude1 and yet         
manifested with such uniformity1 and    
conceived and executed like the         
movements of a regular army1 have       
scarcely the appearance of proceeding   
freely and directly from the inmost     
being4 ,and1 on the other hand1 we take 
a much stronger interest in the         
situations and fortunes of a single     
individual with whose whole character we
 have become intimately acquainted1 than
 in a multitude of uniformly repeated   

impressions massed as it were together4 
,we have more than reason to doubt      
whether ,aeschylus treated the fable of 
the third piece in such a way that      
,hypermnestra1 the only one of the      
,danaidae who is allowed to form an     
exception from the rest1 became1 with   
her compassion or her love1 the         
principal object of the dramatic        
interest3 here1 again1 probably1 his    
chief object was by expressing1 in      
majestic choral songs1 the complaints1  
the wishes1 the cares1 and supplications
 of the whole sisterhood1 to exhibit a  
kind of social solemnity of action and  
suffering4  ,in the same manner1 in the 
,seven before ,thebes1 the king and the 
messenger1 whose speeches occupy the    
greatest part of the piece1 speak more  
in virtue of their office than as       
interpreters of their own personal      
feelings4 ,the description of the       
assault with which the city is          
threatened1 and of the seven leaders    
who1 like heaven-storming giants1 have  

sworn its destruction1 and who1 in the  
emblems borne on their shields1 display 
their arrogance1 is an epic subject     
clothed in the pomp of tragedy4 ,this   
long and ascending series of preparation
 is every way worthy the one agitating  
moment at which ,eteocles1 who has      
hitherto displayed the utmost degree of 
prudence and firmness1 and stationed1 at
 each gate1 a patriotic hero to confront
 each of the insolent foes2 when the    
seventh is described to him as no other 
than ,polynices1 the author of the whole
 threatened calamity1 hurried away by   
the ,erinnys of a father's curse1       
insists on becoming himself his         
antagonist1 and1 notwithstanding all the
 entreaties of the chorus1 with the     
clear consciousness of inevitable death1
 rushes headlong to the fratricidal     
strife4 ,war1 in itself1 is no subject  
for tragedy1 and the poet hurries us    
rapidly from the ominous preparation to 
the fatal moment of decision3 the city  
is saved1 the two competitors for the   

throne fall by each other's hands1 and  
the whole is closed by their funeral    
dirge1 sung conjointly by the sisters   
and a chorus of ,theban virgins4 ,it is 
worthy of remark that ,antigone's       
determination to inter her brother1     
notwithstanding the prohibition with    
which ,sophocles opens his own piece1   
which he names after her1 is interwoven 
with the conclusion of this play1 a     
circumstance which1 as in the case of   
the ,choephorae1 immediately connects it
 with a new and further development of  
the tragic story4  ,i wish ,i could     
persuade myself that ,aeschylus composed
 the ,persians to comply with the wish  
of ,hiero1 ,king of ,syracuse1 who was  
desirous vividly to realize the great   
events of the ,persian war4 ,such is the
 substance of one tradition2 but        
according to another1 the piece had been
 previously exhibited in ,athens4 ,we   
have already alluded to this drama1     
which1 both in point of choice of       
subject1 and the manner of handling it1 

is undoubtedly the most imperfect of all
 the tragedies of this poet that we     
possess4 ,scarcely has the vision of    
,atossa raised our expectation in the   
commencement1 when the whole catastrophe
 immediately opens on us with the       
arrival of the first messenger1 and no  
further progress is even imaginable4    
,but although not a legitimate drama1 we
 may still consider it as a proud       
triumphal hymn of liberty1 clothed in   
soft and unceasing lamentations of      
kindred and subjects over the fallen    
majesty of the ambitious despot4 ,with  
great judgment1 both here and in the    
,seven before ,thebes1 the poet         
describes the issue of the war1 not as  
accidental1 which is almost always the  
case in ,homer1 but 7for in tragedy     
there is no place for accident17 as the 
result of overweening infatuation on the
 one hand1 and wise moderation on the   
other4  ,the ,prometheus ,bound1 held   
also a middle place between two others--
 the ,fire-bringing ,prometheus and the 

,prometheus ,unbound1 if we dare reckon 
the first1 which1 without question1 was 
a satiric drama1 a part of a trilogy4 ,a
 considerable fragment of the           
,prometheus ,unbound has been preserved 
to us in a ,latin translation by        
,attius4  ,the ,prometheus ,bound is the
 representation of constancy under      
suffering1 and that the never-ending    
suffering of a god4 ,exiled in its scene
 to a naked rock on the shore of the    
earth-encircling ocean1 this drama still
 embraces the world1 the ,olympus of the
 gods1 and the earth1 the abode of      
mortals2 all as yet scarcely reposing in
 security above the dread abyss of the  
dark primaeval powers--the ,titans4 ,the
 idea of a self-devoting divinity has   
been mysteriously inculcated in many    
religions1 in dim foreboding of the     
true2 here1 however1 it appears in most 
fearful contrast to the consolations of 
,revelation4 ,for ,prometheus does not  
suffer from any understanding with the  
power which rules the world1 but in     

atonement for his disobedience to that  
power1 and his disobedience consists in 
nothing but the attempt to give         
perfection to the human race4 ,he is    
thus an image of human nature itself2   
endowed with an unblessed foresight and 
riveted to a narrow existence1 without a
 friend or ally1 and with nothing to    
oppose to the combined and inexorable   
powers of nature1 but an unshaken will  
and the consciousness of her own lofty  
aspirations4 ,the other productions of  
the ,greek ,tragedians are so many      
tragedies2 but this ,i might say is     
,tragedy herself3 her purest spirit     
revealed with all the annihilating and  
overpowering force of its first1 and as 
yet unmitigated1 austerity4  ,there is  
little of external action in this piece4
 ,prometheus merely suffers and resolves
 from the beginning to the end2 and his 
sufferings and resolutions are always   
the same4 ,but the poet has1 in a       
masterly manner1 contrived to introduce 
variety and progress into that which in 

itself was determinately fixed1 and has 
in the objects with which he has        
surrounded him1 given us a scale for the
 measurement of the matchless power of  
his sublime ,titan4 ,first the silence  
of ,prometheus1 while he is chained down
 under the harsh inspection of ,strength
 and ,force1 whose threats serve only to
 excite a useless compassion in ,vulcan1
 who is nevertheless forced to carry    
them into execution2 then his solitary  
complainings1 the arrival of the womanly
 tender ocean nymphs1 whose kind but    
disheartening sympathy stimulates him to
 give freer vent to his feelings1 to    
relate the causes of his fall1 and to   
reveal the future1 though with prudent  
reserve he reveals it only in part2 the 
visit of the ancient ,oceanus1 a kindred
 god of the ,titanian race1 who1 under  
the pretext of a zealous attachment to  
his cause1 counsels submission to       
,jupiter1 and is therefore dismissed    
with proud contempt2 next comes ,io1 the
 frenzy-driven wanderer1 a victim of the

 same tyranny as ,prometheus himself    
suffers under3 to her he predicts the   
wanderings to which she is still doomed1
 and the fate which at last awaits her1 
which1 in some degree1 is connected with
 his own1 as from her blood1 after the  
lapse of many ages1 his deliverer is to 
spring2 then the appearance of ,mercury1
 as the messenger of the universal      
tyrant1 who1 with haughty menaces1      
commands him to disclose the secret     
which is to ensure the safety of        
,jupiter's throne against all the malice
 of fate and fortune2 and1 lastly1      
before ,prometheus has well declared his
 refusal1 the yawning of the earth1     
which1 amidst thunder and lightning1    
storms and earthquake1 engulfs both him 
and the rock to which he is chained in  
the abyss of the nether world4 ,the     
triumph of subjection was never perhaps 
more gloriously celebrated1 and we have 
difficulty in conceiving how the poet in
 the ,prometheus ,unbound could have    
sustained himself on the same height of 

elevation4  ,in the dramas of ,aeschylus
 we have one of many examples that1 in  
art as well as in nature1 gigantic      
productions precede those that evince   
regularity of proportion1 which again in
 their turn decline gradually into      
littleness and insignificance1 and that 
poetry in her earliest appearance       
attaches itself closely to the          
sanctities of religion1 whatever may be 
the form which the latter assumes among 
the various races of men4  ,a saying of 
the poet1 which has been recorded1      
proves that he endeavoured to maintain  
this elevation1 and purposely avoided   
all artificial polish1 which might lower
 him from this godlike sublimity4 ,his  
brothers urged him to write a new       
,paean4 ,he answered3 ,the old one of   
,tynnichus is the best1 and his compared
 with this1 fare as the new statues do  
beside the old2 for the latter1 with all
 their simplicity1 are considered       
divine2 while the new1 with all the care
 bestowed on their execution1 are indeed

 admired1 but bear much less of the     
impression of divinity4 ,in religion1 as
 in everything else1 he carried his     
boldness to the utmost limits2 and thus 
he even came to be accused of having in 
one of his pieces disclosed the         
,eleusinean mysteries1 and was only     
acquitted on the intercession of his    
brother ,aminias1 who bared in sight of 
the judges the wounds which he had      
received in the battle of ,salamis4 ,he 
perhaps believed that in the            
communication of the poetic feeling was 
contained the initiation into the       
mysteries1 and that nothing was in this 
way revealed to any one who was not     
worthy of it4  ,in ,aeschylus the tragic
 style is as yet imperfect1 and not     
unfrequently runs into either unmixed   
epic or lyric4 ,it is often abrupt1     
irregular1 and harsh4 ,to compose more  
regular and skilful tragedies than those
 of ,aeschylus was by no means          
difficult2 but in the more than mortal  
grandeur which he displayed1 it was     

impossible that he should ever be       
surpassed2 and even ,sophocles1 his     
younger and more fortunate rival1 did   
not in this respect equal him4 ,the     
latter1 in speaking of ,aeschylus1 gave 
a proof that he was himself a thoughtful
 artist3 ,aeschylus does what is right  
without knowing it4 ,these few simple   
words exhaust the whole of what we      
understand by the phrase1 powerful      
genius working unconsciously4           
,,lecture ,,vii4  ,life and ,political  
,character of ,sophocles--,character of 
his different ,tragedies4   ,the birth  
of ,sophocles was nearly at an equal    
distance between that of his predecessor
 and that of ,euripides1 so that he was 
about half a life-time from each3 but on
 this point all the authorities do not  
coincide4 ,he was1 however1 during the  
greatest part of his life the           
contemporary of both4 ,he frequently    
contended for the ivy-wreath of tragedy 
with ,aeschylus1 and he outlived        
,euripides1 who1 however1 also attained 

to a good old age4 ,to speak in the     
spirit of the ancient religion1 it seems
 that a beneficent ,providence wished in
 this individual to evince to the human 
race the dignity and blessedness of its 
lot1 by endowing him with every divine  
gift1 with all that can adorn and       
elevate the mind and the heart1 and     
crowning him with every imaginable      
blessing of this life4 ,descended from  
rich and honourable parents1 and born a 
free citizen of the most enlightened    
state of ,greece2--there were birth1    
necessary condition1 and foundation4    
,beauty of person and of mind1 and the  
uninterruped enjoyment of both in the   
utmost perfection1 to the extreme term  
of human existence2 a most choice and   
finished education in gymnastics and the
 musical arts1 the former so important  
in the development of the bodily powers1
 and the latter in the communication of 
harmony2 the sweet bloom of youth1 and  
the ripe fruit of age2 the possession of
 and unbroken enjoyment of poetry and   

art1 and the exercise of serene wisdom2 
love and respect among his fellow       
citizens1 renown abroad1 and the        
countenance and favour of the gods3     
these are the general features of the   
life of this pious and virtuous poet4   
,it would seem as if the gods1 to whom1 
and to ,bacchus in particular1 as the   
giver of all joy1 and the civilizer of  
the human race1 he devoted himself at an
 early age by the composition of        
tragical dramas for his festivals1 had  
wished to confer immortality on him1 so 
long did they delay the hour of his     
death2 but as this could not be1 they   
loosened him from life as gently as was 
possible1 that he might imperceptibly   
change one immortality for another1 the 
long duration of his earthly existence  
for the imperishable vitality of his    
name4 ,when a youth of sixteen1 he was  
selected1 on account of his beauty1 to  
dance 7playing the while1 after the     
,greek manner1 on the lyre7 at the head 
of the chorus of youths who1 after the  

battle of ,salamis 7in which ,aeschylus 
fought1 and which he has so nobly       
described71 executed the ,paean round   
the trophy erected on that occasion4    
,thus then the beautiful season of his  
youthful bloom coincided with the most  
glorious epoch of the ,athenian people4 
,he held the rank of general as         
colleague with ,pericles and            
,thucydides1 and1 when arrived at a more
 advanced age1 was elected to the       
priesthood of a native hero4 ,in his    
twenty-fifth year he began to exhibit   
tragedies2 twenty times was he          
victorious2 he often gained the second  
place1 but never was he ranked so low as
 in the third4 ,in this career he       
proceeded with increasing success till  
he had passed his ninetieth year2 and   
some of his greatest works were even the
 fruit of a still later period4 ,there  
is a story of an accusation being       
brought against him by one or more of   
his elder sons1 of having become        
childish from age1 and of being         

incapable of managing his own affairs4  
,an alleged partiality for a grandson by
 a second wife is said to have been the 
motive of the charge4 ,in his defence he
 contented himself with reading to his  
judges his ,oedipus at ,colonos1 which  
he had then just composed 7or1 according
 to others1 only the magnificent chorus 
in it1 wherein he sings the praises of  
,colonos1 his birth-place17 and the     
astonished judges1 without farther      
consultation1 conducted him in triumph  
to his house4 ,if it be true that the   
second ,oedipus was written at so late  
an age1 as from its mature serenity and 
total freedom from the impetuosity and  
violence of youth we have good reason to
 conclude that it actually was1 it      
affords us a pleasing picture of an old 
age at once amiable and venerable4      
,although the varying accounts of his   
death have a fabulous look1 they all    
coincide in this1 and alike convey this 
same purport1 that he departed life     
without a struggle1 while employed in   

his art1 or something connected with it1
 and that1 like an old swan of ,apollo1 
he breathed out his life in song4 ,the  
story also of the ,lacedaemonian        
general1 who having entrenched the      
burying-ground of the poet's ancestors1 
and being twice warned by ,bacchus in a 
vision to allow ,sophocles to be there  
interred1 dispatched a herald to the    
,athenians on the subject1 ,i consider  
as true1 as well as a number of other   
circumstances1 which serve to set in a  
strong light the illustrious reverence  
in which his name was held4 ,in calling 
him virtuous and pious1 ,i used the     
words in his own sense2 for although his
 works breathe the real character of    
ancient grandeur1 gracefulness1 and     
simplicity1 he1 of all the ,grecian     
poets1 is also the one whose feelings   
bear the strongest affinity to the      
spirit of our religion4  ,one gift alone
 was denied to him by nature3 a voice   
attuned to song4 ,he could only call    
forth and direct the harmonious         

effusions of other voices2 he was       
therefore compelled to depart from the  
hitherto established practice for the   
poet to act a part in his own pieces4   
,once only did he make his appearance on
 the stage in the character of the blind
 singer ,thamyris 7a very characteristic
 trait7 playing on the cithara4  ,as    
,aeschylus1 who raised tragic poetry    
from its rude beginnings to the dignity 
of the ,cothurnus1 was his predecessor2 
the historical relation in which he     
stood to him enabled ,sophocles to      
profit by the essays of that original   
master1 so that ,aeschylus appears as   
the rough designer1 and ,sophocles as   
the finisher and successor4 ,the more   
artificial construction of ,sophocles'  
dramas is easily perceived3 the greater 
limitation of the chorus in proportion  
to the dialogue1 the smoother polish of 
the rhythm1 and the purer ,attic        
diction1 the introduction of a greater  
number of characters1 the richer        
complication of the fable1 the          

multiplication of incidents1 a higher   
degree of development1 the more tranquil
 dwelling upon all the momenta of the   
action1 and the more striking theatrical
 effect allowed to decisive ones1 the   
more perfect rounding off of the whole1 
even considered from a merely external  
point of view4 ,but he excelled         
,aeschylus in something still more      
essential1 and proved himself deserving 
of the good fortune of having such a    
preceptor1 and of being allowed to enter
 into competition in the same field with
 him3 ,i mean the harmonious perfection 
of his mind1 which enabled him          
spontaneously to satisfy every          
requisition of the laws of beauty1 a    
mind whose free impulse was accompanied 
by the most clear consciousness4 ,to    
surpass ,aeschylus in boldness of       
conception was perhaps impossible3 ,i am
 inclined1 however1 to believe that is  
only because of his wisdom and          
moderation that ,sophocles appears less 
bold1 since he always goes to work with 

the greatest energy1 and perhaps with   
even a more sustained earnestness1 like 
a man who knows the extent of his       
powers1 and is determined1 when he does 
not exceed them1 to stand up with the   
greater confidence for his rights       
,footnote3 ,this idea has been so       
happily expressed by the greatest genius
 perhaps of the last century1 that the  
translator hopes he will be forgiven for
 here transcribing the passage3 ,i can  
truly say that1 poor and unknown as ,i  
then was1 ,i had pretty nearly as high  
an idea of myself and of my works1 as ,i
 have at this moment1 when the public   
has decided in their favour4 ,it ever   
was my opinion1 that the mistakes and   
blunders both in a rational and         
religious point of view1 of which we see
 thousands daily guilty1 are owing to   
their ignorance of themselves4 ,to know 
myself1 had been all along my constant  
study4 ,i weighed myself alone2 ,i      
balanced myself with others2 ,i watched 
every means of information to see how   

much ground ,i occupied as a man and as 
a poet2 ,i studied assiduously nature's 
design in my formation-- where the      
lights and shades in my character were  
intended4--,letter from ,burns to ,dr4  
,moore1 in ,currie's ,life4--,,trans44  
,as ,aeschylus delights in transporting 
us to the convulsions of the primary    
world of the ,titans1 ,sophocles1 on the
 other hand1 never avails himself of    
divine interposition except where it is 
absolutely necessary2 he formed men1    
according to the general confession of  
antiquity1 better1 that is1 not more    
moral and exempt from error1 but more   
beautiful and noble than they really    
are2 and while he took every thing in   
the most human sense1 he was at the same
 time open to its higher significance4  
,according to all appearance he was also
 more temperate than ,aeschylus in his  
use of scenic ornaments2 displaying     
perhaps more of taste and chastened     
beauty1 but not attempting the same     
colossal magnificence4  ,to characterize

 the native sweetness and gracefulness  
so eminent in this poet1 the ancients   
gave him the appellation of the ,attic  
bee4 ,whoever is thoroughly imbued with 
the feeling of this peculiarity may     
flatter himself that a sense for ancient
 art has arisen within him2 for the     
affected sentimentality of the present  
day1 far from coinciding with the       
ancients in this opinion1 would in the  
tragedies of ,sophocles1 both in respect
 of the representation of bodily        
sufferings1 and in the sentiments and   
structure1 find much that is            
insupportably austere4  ,when we        
consider the great fertility of         
,sophocles1 for according to some he    
wrote a hundred and thirty pieces 7of   
which1 however1 seventeen were          
pronounced spurious by ,aristophanes the
 grammarian71 and eighty according to   
the most moderate account1 little1 it   
must be owned1 has come down to us1 for 
we have only seven of them4 ,chance1    
however1 has so far favoured us1 that in

 these seven pieces we find several     
which were held by the ancients as his  
greatest works1 the ,antigone1 for      
example1 the ,electra1 and the two on   
the subject of ,oedipus2 and these have 
also come down to us tolerably free from
 mutilation and corruption in their     
text4 ,the ,oedipus ,tyrannus1 and the  
,philoctetes1 have been generally1 but  
without good reason1 preferred by modern
 critics to all the others3 the first on
 account of the artifice of the plot1 in
 which the dreadful catastrophe1 which  
so powerfully excites the curiosity 7a  
rare case in the ,greek tragedies71 is  
inevitably brought about by a succession
 of connected causes2 the latter on     
account of the masterly display of      
character1 the beautiful contrast       
observable in those of the three leading
 personages1 and the simple structure of
 the piece1 in which1 with so few       
persons1 everything proceeds from the   
truest and most adequate motives4 ,but  
the whole of the tragedies of ,sophocles

 are separately resplendent with        
peculiar excellencies4 ,in ,antigone we 
have the purest display of feminine     
heroism2 in ,ajax the sense of manly    
honour in its full force2 in the        
,trachiniae 7or1 as we should rather    
name it1 the ,dying ,hercules71 the     
female levity of ,dejanira is           
beautifully atoned for by her death1 and
 the sufferings of ,hercules are        
portrayed with suitable dignity2        
,electra is distinguished by energy and 
pathos2 in ,oedipus ,coloneus there     
prevails a mild and gentle emotion1 and 
over the whole piece is diffused the    
sweetest gracefulness4 ,i will not      
undertake to weigh the respective merits
 of these pieces against each other3 but
 ,i own ,i entertain a singular         
predilection for the last of them1      
because it appears to me the most       
expressive of the personal feelings of  
the poet himself4 ,as this piece was    
written for the very purpose of throwing
 a lustre on ,athens1 and his own       

birth-place more particularly1 he       
appears to have laboured on it with a   
special love and affection4  ,ajax and  
,antigone are usually the least         
understood4 ,we cannot conceive how     
these pieces should run on so long after
 what we usually call the catastrophe4  
,on this subject ,i shall hereafter     
offer a remark or two4  ,of all the     
fables of ancient mythology in which    
fate is made to play a conspicuous part1
 the story of ,oedipus is perhaps the   
most ingenious2 but still many others1  
as1 for instance1 that of ,niobe1 which1
 without any complication of incidents1 
simply exhibit on a scale of colossal   
dimensions both of human arrogance1 and 
its impending punishment from the gods1 
appear to me to be conceived in a       
grander style4 ,the very intrigue which 
is involved in that of ,oedipus detracts
 from its loftiness of character4       
,intrigue in the dramatic sense is a    
complication arising from the crossing  
of purposes and events1 and this is     

found in a high degree in the fate of   
,oedipus1 as all that is done by his    
parents or himself in order to evade the
 predicted horrors1 serves only to bring
 them on the more surely4 ,but that     
which gives so grand and terrible a     
character to this drama1 is the         
circumstance which1 however1 is for the 
most part overlooked2 that to the very  
,oedipus who solved the riddle of the   
,sphinx relating to human life1 his own 
life should remain so long an           
inextricable riddle1 to be so awfully   
cleared up1 when all was irretrievably  
lost4 ,a striking picture of the        
arrogant pretension of human wisdom1    
which is ever right enough in its       
general principles1 but does not enable 
the possessor to make the proper        
application to himself4                 
,notwithstanding the severe conclusion  
of the first ,oedipus we are so far     
reconciled to it by the violence1       
suspicion1 and haughtiness in the       
character of ,oedipus1 that our feelings

 do not absolutely revolt at so horrible
 a fate4 ,for this end1 it was necessary
 thus far to sacrifice the character of 
,oedipus1 who1 however1 raises himself  
in our estimation by his fatherly care  
and heroic zeal for the welfare of his  
people1 that occasion him1 by his honest
 search for the author of the crime1 to 
accelerate his own destruction4 ,it was 
also necessary1 for the sake of contrast
 with his future misery1 to exhibit him 
in his treatment of ,tiresias and       
,creon1 in all the haughtiness of regal 
dignity4 ,and1 indeed1 all his earlier  
proceedings evince1 in some measure1 the
 same suspiciousness and violence of    
character2 the former1 in his refusing  
to be quieted by the assurances of      
,polybos1 when taunted with being a     
suppositious child1 and the latter1 in  
his bloody quarrel with ,laius4 ,the    
latter character he seems to have       
inherited from both his parents4 ,the   
arrogant levity of ,jocasta1 which      
induces her to deride the oracle as not 

confirmed by the event1 the penalty of  
which she is so soon afterwards to      
inflict upon herself1 was not indeed    
inherited by her son2 he is1 on the     
contrary1 conspicuous throughout for the
 purity of his intentions2 and his care 
and anxiety to escape from the predicted
 crime1 added naturally to the poignancy
 of his despair1 when he found that he  
had nevertheless been overtaken by it4  
,awful indeed is his blindness in not   
perceiving the truth when it was1 as it 
were1 brought directly home to him2 as1 
for instance1 when he puts the question 
to ,jocasta1 ,how did ,laius look8 and  
she answers he had become gray-haired1  
otherwise in appearance he was not      
unlike ,oedipus4 ,this is also another  
feature of her levity1 that she should  
not have been struck with the           
resemblance to her husband1 a           
circumstance that might have led her to 
recognize him as her son4 ,thus a close 
analysis of the piece will evince the   
utmost propriety and significance of    

every portion of it4 ,as1 however1 it is
 customary to extol the correctness of  
,sophocles1 and to boast more especially
 of the strict observance of probability
 which1 prevails throughout this        
,oedipus1 ,i must here remark that this 
very piece is a proof how1 on this      
subject1 the ancient artists followed   
very different principles from those of 
modern critics4 ,for1 according to our  
way of thinking1 nothing could be more  
improbable than that ,oedipus should1 so
 long1 have forborne to inquire into the
 circumstances of the death of ,laius1  
and that the scars on his feet1 and even
 the name which he bore1 should never   
have excited the curiosity of ,jocasta1 
c4 ,but the ancients did not produce    
their works of art for calculating and  
prosaic understandings2 and an          
improbability which1 to be found out1   
required dissection1 and did not exist  
within the matters of the representation
 itself1 was to them none at all4  ,the 
diversity of character of ,aeschylus and

 ,sophocles is nowhere more conspicuous 
than in the ,eumenides and the ,oedipus 
,coloneus1 as both these pieces were    
composed with the same aim4 ,this aim   
was to glorify ,athens as the sacred    
abode of law and humanity1 on whose soil
 the crimes of the hero families of     
other countries might1 by a higher      
mediation1 be at last propitiated2 while
 an ever-during prosperity was predicted
 to the ,athenian people4 ,the patriotic
 and liberty-breathing ,aeschylus has   
recourse to a judicial1 and the pious   
,sophocles to a religious1 procedure2   
even the consecration of ,oedipus in    
death4 ,bent down by the consciousness  
of inevitable crimes1 and lengthened    
misery1 his honour is1 as it were1      
cleared up by the gods themselves1 as if
 desirous of showing that1 in the       
terrible example which they made of him1
 they had no intention of visiting him  
in particular1 but merely wished to give
 a solemn lesson to the whole human     
race4 ,sophocles1 to whom the whole of  

life was one continued worship of the   
gods1 delighted to throw all possible   
honour on its last moments as if a more 
solemn festival2 and associated it with 
emotions very different from what the   
thought of mortality is in general      
calculated to excite4 ,that the tortured
 and exhausted ,oedipus should at last  
find peace and repose in the grove of   
the ,furies1 in the very spot from which
 all other mortals fled with aversion   
and horror1 he whose misfortune         
consisted in having done a deed at which
 all men shudder1 unconsciously and     
without warning of any inward feeling2  
in this there is a profound and         
mysterious meaning4  ,aeschylus has     
given us in the person of ,pallas a more
 majestic representation of the ,attic  
cultivation1 prudence1 moderation1      
mildness1 and magnanimity2 but          
,sophocles1 who delighted to draw all   
that is godlike within the sphere of    
humanity1 has1 in his ,theseus1 given a 
more delicate development of all these  

same things4 ,whoever is desirous of    
gaining an accurate idea of ,grecian    
heroism1 as contrasted with the         
,barbarian1 would do well to consider   
this character with attention4  ,in     
,aeschylus1 before the victim of        
persecution can be delivered1 and the   
land can participate in blessings1 the  
infernal horror of the ,furies congeals 
the spectators' blood1 and makes his    
hair stand on end1 and the whole rancour
 of these goddesses of rage is          
exhausted3 after this the transition to 
their peaceful retreat is the more      
wonderful2 the whole human race seems1  
as it were1 delivered from their power4 
,in ,sophocles1 however1 they do not    
ever appear1 but are kept altogether in 
the background2 and they are never      
mentioned by their own name1 but always 
alluded to by some softening euphemism4 
,but this very obscurity1 so exactly    
befitting these daughters of night1 and 
the very distance at which they are     
kept1 are calculated to excite a silent 

horror in which the bodily senses have  
no part4 ,the clothing the grove of the 
,furies with all the charms of a        
southern spring completes the sweetness 
of the poem2 and were ,i to select from 
his own tragedies an emblem of the      
poetry of ,sophocles1 ,i should describe
 it as a sacred grove of the dark       
goddesses of fate1 in which the laurel1 
the olive1 and the vine1 are always     
green1 and the song of the nightingale  
is for ever heard4  ,two of the pieces  
of ,sophocles refer1 to what in the     
,greek way of thinking1 are the sacred  
rights of the dead1 and the solemn      
importance of burial2 in ,antigone the  
whole of the action hinges on this1 and 
in ,ajax it forms the only satisfactory 
conclusion of the piece4  ,the ideal of 
the female character in ,antigone is    
characterized by great austerity1 and it
 is sufficient of itself to put an end  
to all the seductive representations of 
,grecian softness1 which of late have   
been so universally current4 ,her       

indignation at ,ismene's refusal to take
 part in her daring resolution2 the     
manner in which she afterwards repulses 
,ismene1 when repenting of her former   
weakness1 she begs to be allowed to     
share her heroic sister's death1 borders
 on harshness2 both her silence1 and    
then her invectives against ,creon1 by  
which she provokes him to execute his   
tyrannical threats1 display the         
immovable energy of manly courage4 ,the 
poet has1 however1 discovered the secret
 of painting the loving heart of woman  
in a single line1 when to the assertion 
of ,creon1 that ,polynices was an enemy 
to his country1 she replies3    ,my love
 shall go with thine1 but not my hate4  
,footnote3 ,this is the version of      
,franklin1 but it does not convey the   
meaning of the original1 and ,i am not  
aware that the ,english language is     
sufficiently flexible to admit of an    
exact translation4 ,the ,german1 which1 
though far inferior to the ,greek in    
harmony1 is little behind in            

flexibility1 has in this respect great  
advantage over the ,english2 and        
,schlegel's nicht mitzuhassen1          
mitzulieben bin ich da1 represents      
exactly ,outoi synechthein alla         
symphilein ephyn4--,,trans4  ,moreover1 
she puts a constraint on her feelings   
only so long as by giving vent to them1 
she might make her firmness of purpose  
appear equivocal4 ,when1 however1 she is
 being led forth to inevitable death1   
she pours forth her soul in the         
tenderest and most touching waitings    
over her hard and untimely fate1 and    
does not hesitate1 she1 the modest      
virgin1 to mourn the loss of nuptials1  
and the unenjoyed bliss of marriage4    
,yet she never in a single syllable     
betrays any inclination for ,haemon1 and
 does not even mention the name of that 
amiable youth ,footnote3 ,barthlemy     
asserts the contrary2 but the line to   
which he refers1 according to the more  
correct manuscripts1 and even according 
to the context1 belongs to ,ismene44    

,after such heroic determination1 to    
have shown that any tie still bound her 
to existence1 would have been a         
weakness2 but to relinquish without one 
sorrowful regret those common enjoyments
 with which the gods have enriched this 
life1 would have ill accorded with her  
devout sanctity of mind4  ,on a first   
view the chorus in ,antigone may appear 
weak1 acceding1 as it does1 at once1    
without opposition to the tyrannical    
commands of ,creon1 and without even    
attempting to make the slightest        
representation in behalf of the young   
heroine4 ,but to exhibit the            
determination and the deed of ,antigone 
in their full glory1 it was necessary   
that they should stand out quite alone1 
and that she should have no stay or     
support4 ,moreover1 the very            
submissiveness of the chorus increases  
our impression of the irresistible      
nature of the royal commands4 ,so1 too1 
was it necessary for it to mingle with  
its concluding addresses to ,antigone   

the most painful recollections1 that she
 might drain the full cup of earthly    
sorrows4 ,the case is very different in 
,electra1 where the chorus appropriately
 takes an interest in the fate of the   
two principal characters1 and encourages
 them in the execution of their design1 
as the moral feelings are divided as to 
its legitimacy1 whereas there is no such
 conflict in ,antigone's case1 who had  
nothing to deter her from her purpose   
but mere external fears4  ,after the    
fulfilment of the deed1 and the         
infliction of its penalties1 the        
arrogance of ,creon still remains to be 
corrected1 and the death of ,antigone to
 be avenged2 nothing less than the      
destruction of his whole family1 and his
 own despair1 could be a sufficient     
atonement for the sacrifice of a life so
 costly4 ,we have therefore the king's  
wife1 who had not even been named       
before1 brought at last on the stage1   
that she may hear the misfortunes of her
 family1 and put an end to her own      

existence4 ,to ,grecian feelings it     
would have been impossible to consider  
the poem as properly concluding with the
 death of ,antigone1 without its penal  
retribution4  ,the case is the same in  
,ajax4 ,his arrogance1 which was        
punished with a degrading madness1 is   
atoned for by the deep shame which at   
length drives him even to self-murder4  
,the persecution of the unfortunate man 
must not1 however1 be carried farther2  
when1 therefore1 it is in contemplation 
to dishonour his very corpse by the     
refusal of interment1 even ,ulysses     
interferes4 ,he owes the honours of     
burial to that ,ulysses whom in life he 
had looked upon as his mortal enemy1 and
 to whom1 in the dreadful introductory  
scene1 ,pallas shows1 in the example of 
the delirious ,ajax1 the nothingness of 
man4 ,thus ,ulysses appears as the      
personification of moderation1 which1 if
 it had been possessed by ,ajax1 would  
have prevented his fall4  ,self-murder  
is of frequent occurrence in ancient    

mythology1 at least as adapted to       
tragedy2 but it generally takes place1  
if not in a state of insanity1 yet in a 
state of agitation1 after some sudden   
calamity which leaves no room for       
consideration4 ,such self-murders as    
those of ,jocasta1 ,haemon1 ,eurydice1  
and lastly of ,dejanira1 appear merely  
in the light of a subordinate appendage 
in the tragical pictures of ,sophocles2 
but the suicide of ,ajax is a cool      
determination1 a free action1 and of    
sufficient importance to become the     
principal subject of the piece4 ,it is  
not the last fatal crisis of a slow     
mental malady1 as is so often the case  
in these more effeminate modern times2  
still less is it that more theoretical  
disgust of life1 founded on a conviction
 of its worthlessness1 which induced so 
many of the later ,romans1 on ,epicurean
 as well as ,stoical principles1 to put 
an end to their existence4 ,it is not   
through any unmanly despondency that    
,ajax is unfaithful to his rude heroism4

 ,his delirium is over1 as well as his  
first comfortless feelings upon awaking 
from it2 and it is not till after the   
complete return of consciousness1 and   
when he has had time to measure the     
depth of the abyss into which1 by a     
divine destiny1 his overweening         
haughtiness has plunged him1 when he    
contemplates his situation1 and feels it
 ruined beyond remedy3--his honour      
wounded by the refusal of the arms of   
,achilles2 and the outburst of his      
vindictive rage wasted in his           
infatuation on defenceless flocks2      
himself1 after a long and reproachless  
heroic career1 a source of amusement to 
his enemies1 an object of derision and  
abomination to the ,greeks1 and to his  
honoured father1--should he thus return 
to him--a disgrace3 after reviewing all 
this1 he decides agreeably to his own   
motto1 gloriously to live or gloriously 
to die1 that the latter course alone    
remains open to him4 ,even the          
dissimulation1--the first1 perhaps1 that

 he ever practised1 by which1 to prevent
 the execution of his purpose from being
 disturbed1 he pacifies his comrades1   
must be considered as the fruit of      
greatness of soul4 ,he appoints ,teucer 
guardian to his infant boy1 the future  
consolation of his own bereaved parents2
 and1 like ,cato1 dies not before he has
 arranged the concerns of all who belong
 to him4 ,as ,antigone in her womanly   
tenderness1 so even he in his wild      
manner1 seems in his last speech to feel
 the majesty of that light of the sun   
from which he is departing for ever4    
,his rude courage disdains compassion1  
and therefore excites it the more       
powerfully4 ,what a picture of awaking  
from the tumult of passion1 when the    
tent opens and in the midst of the      
slaughtered herds he sits on the ground 
bewailing himself6  ,as ,ajax1 in the   
feeling of inextinguishable shame1 forms
 the violent resolution of throwing away
 life1 ,philoctetes1 on the other hand1 
bears its wearisome load during long    

years of misery with the most enduring  
patience4 ,if ,ajax is honoured by his  
despair1 ,philoctetes is equally        
ennobled by his constancy4 ,when the    
instinct of self-preservation comes into
 collision with no moral impulse1 it    
naturally exhibits itself in all its    
strength4 ,nature has armed with this   
instinct whatever is possessed of the   
breath of life1 and the vigour with     
which every hostile attack on existence 
is repelled is the strongest proof of   
its excellence4 ,in the presence1 it is 
true1 of that band of men by which he   
had been abandoned1 and if he must      
depend on their superior power1         
,philoctetes would no more have wished  
for life than did ,ajax4 ,but he is     
alone with nature2 he quails not before 
the frightful aspect which she exhibits 
to him1 and still clings even to the    
maternal bosom of the all-nourishing    
earth4 ,exiled on a desert island1      
tortured by an incurable wound1 solitary
 and helpless as he is1 his bow procures

 him food from the birds of the forest1 
the rock yields him soothing herbs1 the 
fountain supplies a fresh beverage1 his 
cave affords him a cool shelter in      
summer1 in winter he is warmed by the   
mid-day sun1 or a fire of kindled       
boughs2 even the raging attacks of his  
pain at length exhaust themselves1 and  
leave him in a refreshing sleep4 ,alas6 
it is the artificial refinements1 the   
oppressive burden of a relaxing and     
deadening superfluity which render man  
indifferent to the value of life3 when  
it is stripped of all foreign           
appendages1 though borne down with      
sufferings so that the naked existence  
alone remains1 still will its sweetness 
flow from the heart at every pulse      
through all the veins4 ,miserable man6  
ten long years has he struggled2 and yet
 he still lives1 and clings to life and 
hope4 ,what force of truth is there in  
all this6 ,what1 however1 most moves us 
in behalf of ,philoctetes is1 that he1  
who by an abuse of power had been cast  

out from society1 when it again         
approaches him is exposed by it to a    
second and still more dangerous evil1   
that of falsehood4 ,the anxiety excited 
in the mind of the spectator lest       
,philoctetes should be deprived of his  
last means of subsistence1 his bow1     
would be too painful1 did he not from   
the beginning entertain a suspicion that
 the open-hearted and straight-forward  
,neoptolemus will not be able to        
maintain to the end the character which1
 so much against his will1 he has       
assumed4 ,not without reason after this 
deception does ,philoctetes turn away   
from mankind to those inanimate         
companions to which the instinctive     
craving for society had attached him4   
,he calls on the island and its         
volcanoes to witness this fresh wrong2  
he believes that his beloved bow feels  
pain in being taken from him2 and at    
length he takes a melancholy leave of   
his hospitable cavern1 the fountains and
 the wave-washed cliffs1 from which he  

so often looked in vain upon the ocean3 
so inclined to love is the uncorrupted  
mind of man4  ,respecting the bodily    
sufferings of ,philoctetes and the      
manner of representing them1 ,lessing   
has in his ,laocon declared himself     
against ,winkelmann1 and ,herder again  
has in the ,silvae ,criticae 7,kritische
 ,wlder7 contradicted ,lessing4 ,both   
the two last writers have made many     
excellent observations on the piece1    
although we must allow with ,herder1    
that ,winkelmann was correct in         
affirming that the ,philoctetes of      
,sophocles1 like ,laocon in the         
celebrated group1 suffers with the      
suppressed agony of an heroic soul never
 altogether overcome by his pain4  ,the 
,trachiniae appears to me so very       
inferior to the other pieces of         
,sophocles which have reached us1 that  
,i could wish there were some warrant   
for supposing that this tragedy was     
composed in the age1 indeed1 and in the 
school of ,sophocles1 perhaps by his son

 ,iophon1 and that it was by mistake    
attributed to the father4 ,there is much
 both in the structure and plan1 and in 
the style of the piece1 calculated to   
excite suspicion2 and many critics have 
remarked that the introductory soliloquy
 of ,dejanira1 which is wholly          
uncalled-for1 is very unlike the general
 character of ,sophocles' prologues3 and
 although this poet's usual rules of art
 are observed on the whole1 yet it is   
very superficially2 no where can we     
discern in it the profound mind of      
,sophocles4 ,but as no writer of        
antiquity appears to have doubted its   
authenticity1 while ,cicero even quotes 
from it the complaint of ,hercules1 as  
from an indisputable work of ,sophocles1
 we are compelled to content ourselves  
with the remark1 that in this one       
instance the tragedian has failed to    
reach his usual elevation4  ,this brings
 us to the consideration of a general   
question1 which1 in the examination of  
the works of ,euripides1 will still more

 particularly engage the attention of   
the critic3 how far1 namely1 the        
invention and execution of a drama must 
belong to one man to entitle him to pass
 for its author4 ,dramatic literature   
affords numerous examples of plays      
composed by several persons conjointly4 
,it is well known that ,euripides1 in   
the details and execution of his pieces1
 availed himself of the assistance of a 
learned servant1 ,cephisophon2 and he   
perhaps also consulted with him         
respecting his plots4 ,it appears1      
moreover1 certain that in ,athens       
schools of dramatic art had at this date
 been formed2 such1 indeed1 as usually  
arise when poetical talents are1 by     
public competition1 called abundantly   
and actively into exercise3 schools of  
art which contain scholars of such      
excellence and of such kindred genius1  
that the master may confide to them a   
part of the execution1 and even the     
plan1 and yet allow the whole to pass   
under his name without any disparagement

 to his fame4 ,such were the schools of 
painting of the sixteenth century1 and  
every one knows what a remarkable degree
 of critical acumen is necessary to     
discover in many of ,raphael's pictures 
how much really belongs to his own      
pencil4 ,sophocles had educated his son 
,iophon to the tragic art1 and might    
therefore easily receive assistance from
 him in the actual labour of            
composition1 especially as it was       
necessary that the tragedies that were  
to compete for the prize should be ready
 and got by heart by a certain day4 ,on 
the other hand1 he might also execute   
occasional passages for works originally
 designed by the son2 and the pieces of 
this description1 in which the hand of  
the master was perceptible1 would be    
naturally attributed to the more        
celebrated name4     ,,lecture ,,viii4  
,euripides--,his ,merits and            
,defects--,decline of ,tragic ,poetry   
through him4   ,when we consider        
,euripides by himself1 without any      

comparison with his predecessors1 when  
we single out some of his better pieces1
 and particular passages in others1 we  
cannot refuse to him an extraordinary   
meed of praise4 ,but on the other hand1 
when we take him in his connexion with  
the history of art1 when we look at each
 of his pieces as a whole1 and again at 
the general scope of his labours1 as    
revealed to us in the works which have  
come down to us1 we are forced to       
censure him severely on many accounts4  
,of few writers can so much good and    
evil be said with truth4 ,he was a man  
of boundless ingenuity and most         
versatile talents2 but he either wanted 
the lofty earnestness of purpose1 or the
 severe artistic wisdom1 which we       
reverence in ,aeschylus and ,sophocles1 
to regulate the luxuriance of his       
certainly splendid and amiable          
qualities4 ,his constant aim is to      
please1 he cares not by what means2     
hence is he so unequal3 frequently he   
has passages of overpowering beauty1 but

 at other times he sinks into downright 
mediocrity4 ,with all his faults he     
possesses an admirable ease1 and a      
certain insinuating charm4  ,these      
preliminary observations ,i have judged 
necessary1 since otherwise1 on account  
of what follows1 it might be objected to
 me that ,i am at variance with myself1 
having lately1 in a short ,french essay1
 endeavoured to show the superiority of 
a piece of ,euripides to ,racine's      
imitation of it4 ,there ,i fixed my     
attention on a single drama1 and that   
one of the poet's best2 but here ,i     
consider everything from the most       
general points of view1 and relatively  
to the highest requisitions of art2 and 
that my enthusiasm for ancient tragedy  
may not appear blind and extravagant1 ,i
 must justify it by a keen examination  
into the traces of its degeneracy and   
decline4  ,we may compare perfection in 
art and poetry to the summit of a steep 
mountain1 on which an uprolled load     
cannot long maintain its position1 but  

immediately rolls down again the other  
side irresistibly4 ,it descends         
according to the laws of gravity with   
quickness and ease1 and one can calmly  
look on while it is descending2 for the 
mass follows its natural tendency1 while
 the laborious ascent is1 in some       
degree1 a painful spectacle4 ,hence it  
is1 for example1 that the paintings     
which belong to the age of declining art
 are much more pleasing to the unlearned
 eye1 than those which preceded the     
period of its perfection4 ,the genuine  
connoisseur1 on the contrary1 will hold 
the pictures of a ,zuccheri and others1 
who gave the tone when the great schools
 of the sixteenth century were          
degenerating into empty and superficial 
mannerism1 to be in real and essential  
worth1 far inferior to the works of a   
,mantegna1 ,perugino1 and their         
contemporaries4 ,or let us suppose the  
perfection of art a focus3 at equal     
distances on either side1 the collected 
rays occupy equal spaces1 but on this   

side they converge towards a common     
effect2 whereas1 on the other they      
diverge1 till at last they are totally  
lost4  ,we have1 besides1 a particular  
reason for censuring without reserve the
 errors of this poet2 the fact1 namely1 
that our own age is infected with the   
same faults with those which procured   
for ,euripides so much favour1 if not   
esteem1 among his contemporaries4 ,in   
our times we have been doomed to witness
 a number of plays which1 though in     
matter and form they are far inferior to
 those of ,euripides1 bear yet in so far
 a resemblance to them1 that while they 
seduce the feelings and corrupt the     
judgment1 by means of weakly1 and       
sometimes even tender1 emotions1 their  
general tendency is to produce a        
downright moral licentiousness4  ,what  
,i shall say on this subject will not1  
for the most part1 possess even the     
attraction of novelty4 ,although the    
moderns1 attracted either by the greater
 affinity of his views with their own   

sentiments1 or led astray by an         
ill-understood opinion of ,aristotle1   
have not unfrequently preferred         
,euripides to his two predecessors1 and 
have unquestionably read1 admired1 and  
imitated him much more2 it admits of    
being shown1 however1 that many of the  
ancients1 and some even of the          
contemporaries of ,euripides1 held the  
same opinion of him as myself4 ,in      
,anacharsis we find this mixture of     
praise and censure at least alluded to1 
though the author softens everything for
 the sake of his object of showing the  
productions of the ,greeks1 in every    
department1 under the most favourable   
light4  ,we possess some cutting sayings
 of ,sophocles respecting ,euripides1   
though he was so far from being actuated
 by anything like the jealousy of       
authorship1 that he mourned his death1  
and1 in a piece which he exhibited      
shortly after1 he did not allow his     
actors the usual ornament of the wreath4
 ,the charge which ,plato brings against

 the tragic poets1 as tending to give   
men entirely up to the dominion of the  
passions1 and to render them effeminate1
 by putting extravagant lamentations in 
the mouths of their heroes1 may1 ,i     
think1 be justly referred to ,euripides 
alone2 for1 with respect to his         
predecessors1 the injustice of it would 
have been universally apparent4 ,the    
derisive attacks of ,aristophanes are   
well known1 though not sufficiently     
understood and appreciated4 ,aristotle  
bestows on him many a severe censure1   
and when he calls ,euripides the most   
tragic poet1 he by no means ascribes to 
him the greatest perfection in the      
tragic art in general1 but merely       
alludes to the moving effect which is   
produced by unfortunate catastrophes2   
for he immediately adds1 although he    
does not well arrange the rest4 ,lastly1
 the ,scholiast on ,euripides contains  
many concise and stringent criticisms on
 particular pieces1 among which perhaps 
are preserved the opinions of           

,alexandrian critics--those critics who 
reckoned among them that ,aristarchus1  
who1 for the solidity and acuteness of  
his critical powers1 has had his name   
transmitted to posterity as the         
proverbial designation of a judge of    
art4  ,in ,euripides we find the essence
 of the ancient tragedy no longer pure  
and unmixed2 its characteristical       
features are already in part defaced4   
,we have already placed this essence in 
the prevailing idea of ,destiny1 in the 
,ideality of the composition1 and in the
 significance of the ,chorus4           
,euripides inherited1 it is true1 the   
idea of ,destiny from his predecessors1 
and the belief of it was inculcated in  
him by the tragic usage2 but yet in him 
fate is seldom the invisible spirit of  
the whole composition1 the fundamental  
thought of the tragic world4 ,we have   
seen that this idea may be exhibited    
under severer or milder aspects2 that   
the midnight terrors of destiny may1 in 
the courses of a whole trilogy1 brighten

 into indications of a wise and         
beneficent ,providence4 ,euripides1     
however1 has drawn it down from the     
region of the infinite2 and with him    
inevitable necessity not unfrequently   
degenerates into the caprice of chance4 
,accordingly1 he can no longer apply it 
to its proper purpose1 namely1 by       
contrast with it1 to heighten the moral 
liberty of man4 ,how few of his pieces  
turn upon a steadfast resistance to the 
decrees of fate1 or an equally heroic   
submission to them6 ,his characters     
generally suffer because they must1 and 
not because they will4  ,the mutual     
subordination1 between character and    
passion and ideal elevation1 which we   
find observed in the same order in      
,sophocles1 and in the sculpture of     
,greece1 ,euripides has completely      
reversed4 ,passion with him is the first
 thing2 his next care is for character1 
and when these endeavours leave him     
still further scope1 he occasionally    
seeks to lay on a touch of grandeur and 

dignity1 but more frequently a display  
of amiableness4  ,it has been already   
admitted that the persons in tragedy    
ought not to be all alike faultless1 as 
there would then be no opposition among 
them1 and consequently no room for a    
complication of plot4 ,but 7as          
,aristotle observes7 ,euripides has1    
without any necessity1 frequently       
painted his characters in the blackest  
colours1 as1 for example1 his ,menelaus 
in ,orestes4 ,the traditions indeed1    
sanctioned by popular belief1 warranted 
him in attributing great crimes to many 
of the old heroes1 but he has also      
palmed upon them many base and paltry   
traits of his own arbitrary invention4  
,it was by no means the object of       
,euripides to represent the race of     
heroes as towering in their majestic    
stature above the men of his own age2 he
 rather endeavours to fill up1 or to    
build over the chasm that yawned between
 his contemporaries and that wondrous   
olden world1 and to come upon the gods  

and heroes in their undress1 a surprise 
of which no greatness1 it is said1 can  
stand the test4 ,he introduces his      
spectators to a sort of familiar        
acquaintance with them2 he does not draw
 the supernatural and fabulous into the 
circle of humanity 7a proceeding which  
we praised in ,sophocles71 but within   
the limits of the imperfect             
individuality4 ,this is the meaning of  
,sophocles1 when he said that he drew   
men such as they ought to be1 ,euripides
 such as they are4 ,not that his own    
personages are always represented as    
irreproachable models2 his expression   
referred merely to ideal elevation and  
sweetness of character and manners4 ,it 
seems as if ,euripides took a pleasure  
in being able perpetually to remind his 
spectators--,see6 those beings were men1
 subject to the very same weaknesses1   
acting from the same motives as         
yourselves1 and even as the meanest     
among you4 ,accordingly1 he takes       
delight in depicting the defects and    

moral failings of his characters2 nay1  
he often makes them disclose them for   
themselves in the most nave confession4 
,they are frequently not merely         
undignified1 but they even boast of     
their imperfections as that which ought 
to be4  ,the ,chorus with him is for the
 most part an unessential ornament2 its 
songs are frequently wholly episodical1 
without reference to the action1 and    
more distinguished for brilliancy than  
for sublimity and true inspiration4 ,the
 ,chorus1 says ,aristotle1 must be      
considered as one of the actors1 and as 
a part of the whole2 it must co-operate 
in the action-- not as ,euripides1 but  
as ,sophocles manages it4 ,the older    
comedians enjoyed the privilege of      
allowing the ,chorus occasionally to    
address the spectators in its own name2 
this was called a ,parabasis1 and1 as ,i
 shall afterwards show1 was in          
accordance with the spirit of comedy4   
,although the practice is by no means   
tragical1 it was1 however1 according to 

,julius ,pollux1 frequently adopted by  
,euripides in his tragedies1 who so far 
forgot himself on some of these         
occasions1 that in the ,danaidae1 for   
instance1 the chorus1 which consisted of
 females1 made use of grammatical       
inflections which belonged only to the  
male sex4  ,this poet has thus at once  
destroyed the internal essence of       
tragedy1 and sinned against the laws of 
beauty and proportion in its external   
structure4 ,he generally sacrifices the 
whole to the parts1 and in these again  
he is more ambitious of foreign         
attractions1 than of genuine poetic     
beauty4  ,in the accompanying music1 he 
adopted all the innovations invented by 
,timotheus1 and chose those melodies    
which were most in unison with the      
effeminacy of his own poetry4 ,he       
proceeded in the same manner with his   
metres2 his versification is luxuriant1 
and runs into anomaly4 ,the same diluted
 and effeminate character would1 on a   
more profound investigation1 be         

unquestionably found in the rhythms of  
his choral songs likewise4  ,on all     
occasions he lays on1 even to           
overloading1 those merely corporeal     
charms which ,winkelmann calls a        
flattery of the gross external senses2  
whatever is exciting1 striking--in a    
word1 all that produces a vivid effect1 
though without true worth for the mind  
and the feelings4 ,he labours for effect
 to a degree which cannot be allowed    
even to the dramatic poet4 ,for example1
 he hardly ever omits an opportunity of 
throwing his characters into a sudden   
and useless terror2 his old men are     
everlastingly bemoaning the infirmities 
of age1 and1 in particular1 are made to 
crawl with trembling limbs1 and sighing 
at the fatigue1 up the ascent from the  
orchestra to the stage1 which frequently
 represented the slope of a hill4 ,he is
 always endeavouring to move1 and for   
the sake of emotion1 he not only        
violates probability1 but even          
sacrifices the coherence of the piece4  

,he is strong in his pictures of        
misfortune2 but he often claims our     
compassion not for inward agony of the  
soul1 nor for pain which the sufferer   
endures with manly fortitude1 but for   
mere bodily wretchedness4 ,he is fond of
 reducing his heroes to the condition of
 beggars1 of making them suffer hunger  
and want1 and bringing them on the stage
 with all the outward signs of it1 and  
clad in rags and tatters1 for which     
,aristophanes1 in his ,acharnians1 has  
so humorously taken him to task4        
,euripides was a frequenter of the      
schools of the philosophers 7he had been
 a scholar of ,anaxagoras1 and not1 as  
many have erroneously stated1 of        
,socrates1 with whom he was only        
connected by social intercourse73 and   
accordingly he indulges his vanity in   
introducing philosophical doctrines on  
all occasions2 in my opinion1 in a very 
imperfect manner1 as we should not be   
able to understand these doctrines from 
his statements of them1 if we were not  

previously acquainted with them4 ,he    
thinks it too vulgar a thing to believe 
in the gods after the simple manner of  
the people1 and he therefore seizes     
every opportunity of interspersing      
something of the allegorical            
interpretation of them1 and carefully   
gives his spectators to understand that 
the sincerity of his own belief was very
 problematical4 ,we may distinguish in  
him a twofold character3 the poet1 whose
 productions were consecrated to a      
religious solemnity1 who stood under the
 protection of religion and who1        
therefore1 on his part1 was bound to    
honour it2 and the sophist1 with his    
philosophical dicta1 who endeavoured to 
insinuate his sceptical opinions and    
doubts into the fabulous marvels of     
religion1 from which he derived the     
subjects of his pieces4 ,but while he is
 shaking the ground-works of religion1  
he at the same time acts the moralist2  
and1 for the sake of popularity1 he     
applies to the heroic life and the      

heroic ages maxims which could only     
apply to the social relations of his own
 times4 ,he throws out a multitude of   
moral apophthegms1 many of which he     
often repeats1 and which are mostly     
trite1 and not seldom fundamentally     
false4 ,with all this parade of         
morality1 the aim of his pieces1 the    
general impression which they are       
calculated to produce is sometimes      
extremely immoral4 ,a pleasant anecdote 
is told of his having put into the mouth
 of ,bellerophon a silly eulogium on    
wealth1 in which he declares it to be   
preferable to all domestic happiness1   
and ends with observing1 ,if ,aphrodite 
7who bore the epithet golden7 be indeed 
glittering as gold1 she well deserves   
the love of ,mortals3 which so offended 
the spectators1 that they raised a great
 outcry1 and would have stoned both     
actor and poet1 out ,euripides sprang   
forward1 and called out1 ,wait only till
 the end--he will be requited           
accordingly6 ,in like manner he defended

 himself against the objection that his 
,ixion expressed himself in too         
disgusting and abominable language1 by  
observing that the piece concluded with 
his being broken on the wheel4 ,but even
 this plea that the represented villany 
is requited by the final retribution of 
poetical justice1 is not available in   
defence of all his tragedies4 ,in some  
the wicked escape altogether untouched4 
,lying and other infamous practices are 
openly protected1 especially when he can
 manage to palm them upon a supposed    
noble motive4 ,he has also perfectly at 
command the seductive sophistry of the  
passions1 which can lend a plausible    
appearance to everything4 ,the following
 verse in justification of perjury1 and 
in which the reservatio mentalis of the 
casuists seems to be substantially      
expressed1 is well known3    ,the tongue
 swore1 but the mind was unsworn4       
,taken in its context1 this verse1 on   
account of which he was so often        
ridiculed by ,aristophanes1 may1 indeed1

 be justified2 but the formula is1      
nevertheless1 bad1 on account of the    
possible abuse of its application4      
,another verse of ,euripides3 ,for a    
kingdom it is worth while to commit     
injustice1 but in other cases it is well
 to be just1 was frequently in the mouth
 of ,caesar1 with the like intention of 
making a bad use of it4  ,euripides was 
frequently condemned even by the        
ancients for his seductive invitations  
to the enjoyment of sensual love4 ,every
 one must be disgusted when ,hecuba1 in 
order to induce ,agamemnon to punish    
,polymestor1 reminds him of the         
pleasures which he has enjoyed in the   
arms of ,cassandra1 his captive1 and1   
therefore1 by the laws of the heroic    
ages his concubine3 she would purchase  
revenge for a murdered son with the     
acknowledged and permitted degradation  
of a living daughter4 ,he was the first 
to make the unbridled passion of a      
,medea1 and the unnatural love of a     
,phaedra1 the main subject of his       

dramas1 whereas from the manners of the 
ancients1 we may easily conceive why    
love1 which among them was much less    
dignified by tender feelings than among 
ourselves1 should hold only a           
subordinate place in the older          
tragedies4 ,with all the importance     
which he has assigned to his female     
characters1 he is notorious for his     
hatred of women2 and it is impossible to
 deny that he abounds in passages       
descanting on the frailties of the      
female sex1 and the superior excellence 
of the male2 together with many maxims  
of household wisdom3 with all which he  
was evidently endeavouring to pay court 
to the men1 who formed1 if not the      
whole1 certainly the most considerable  
portion of his audience4 ,a cutting     
saying and an epigram of ,sophocles1 on 
this subject1 have been preserved1 in   
which he accounts for the 7pretended7   
misogyny of ,euripides by his experience
 of their seductibility in the course of
 his own illicit amours4 ,in the manner 

in which women are painted by           
,euripides1 we may observe1 upon the    
whole1 much sensibility even for the    
more noble graces of female modesty1 but
 no genuine esteem4  ,the substantial   
freedom in treating the fables1 which   
was one of the prerogatives of the      
tragic art1 is frequently carried by    
,euripides to the extreme of licence4   
,it is well known1 that the fables of   
,hyginus1 which differ so essentially   
from those generally received1 were     
partly extracted from his pieces4 ,as he
 frequently rejected all the incidents  
which were generally known1 and to which
 the people were accustomed1 ,le was    
reduced to the necessity of explaining  
in a prologue the situation of things in
 his drama1 and the course which they   
were to take4 ,lessing1 in his          
,dramaturgie1 has hazarded the singular 
opinion that it is a proof of an advance
 in the dramatic art1 that ,euripides   
should have trusted wholly to the effect
 of situations1 without calculating on  

the excitement of curiosity4 ,for my    
part ,i cannot see why1 amidst the      
impressions which a dramatic poem       
produces1 the uncertainty of expectation
 should not be allowed a legitimate     
place4 ,the objection that a piece will 
only please in this respect for the     
first time1 because on an acquaintance  
with it we know the result beforehand1  
may be easily answered3 if the          
representation be truly energetic1 it   
will always rivet the attention of the  
spectator in such a manner that he will 
forget what he already knew1 and be     
again excited to the same stretch of    
expectation4 ,moreover1 these prologues 
give to the openings of ,euripides'     
plays a very uniform and monotonous     
appearance3 nothing can have a more     
awkward effect than for a person to come
 forward and say1 ,i am so and so2 this 
and that has already happened1 and what 
is next to come is as follows4 ,it      
resembles the labels in the mouths of   
the figures in old paintings1 which     

nothing but the great simplicity of     
style in ancient times can excuse4 ,but 
then all the rest ought to correspond1  
which is by no means the case with      
,euripides1 whose characters always     
speak in the newest mode of the day4    
,both in his prologues and denouements  
he is very lavish of unmeaning          
appearances of the gods1 who are only   
elevated above men by the machine in    
which they are suspended1 and who might 
certainly well be spared4  ,the practice
 of the earlier tragedians1 to combine  
all in large masses1 and to exhibit     
repose and motion in distinctly-marked  
contrast1 was carried by him to an      
unwarrantable extreme4 ,if for the sake 
of giving animation to the dialogue his 
predecessors occasionally employed an   
alternation of single-line speeches1 in 
which question and answer1 objection and
 retort1 fly about like arrows from side
 to side1 ,euripides makes so immoderate
 and arbitrary use of this poetical     
device that very frequently one-half of 

his lines might be left out without     
detriment to the sense4 ,at another time
 he pours himself out in endless        
speeches1 where he sets himself to shew 
off his rhetorical powers in ingenious  
arguments1 or in pathetic appeals4 ,many
 of his scenes have altogether the      
appearance of a lawsuit1 where two      
persons1 as the parties in the          
litigation1 7with sometimes a third for 
a judge17 do not confine themselves to  
the matter in hand1 but expatiate in a  
wide field1 accusing their adversaries  
or defending themselves with all the    
adroitness of practised advocates1 and  
not unfrequently with all the windings  
and subterfuges of pettifogging         
sycophants4 ,in this way the poet       
endeavoured to make his poetry          
entertaining to the ,athenians1 by its  
resemblance to their favourite daily    
occupation of conducting1 deciding1 or  
at least listening to lawsuits4 ,on this
 account ,quinctilian expressly         
recommends him to the young orator1 and 

with great justice1 as capable of       
furnishing him with more instruction    
than the older tragedians4 ,but such a  
recommendation it is evident is little  
to his credit2 for eloquence may1 no    
doubt1 have its place in the drama when 
it is consistent with the character and 
the object of the supposed speaker1 yet 
to allow rhetoric to usurp the place of 
the simple and spontaneous expression of
 the feelings1 is anything but poetical4
  ,the style of ,euripides is upon the  
whole too loose1 although he has many   
happy images and ingenious turns3 he has
 neither the dignity and energy of      
,aeschylus1 nor the chaste sweetness of 
,sophocles4 ,in his expressions he      
frequently affects the singular and the 
uncommon1 but presently relapses into   
the ordinary2 the tone of the discourse 
often sounds very familiar1 and descends
 from the elevation of the cothurnus to 
the level ground4 ,in this respect1 as  
well as in the attempt 7which frequently
 borders only too closely on the        

ludicrous17 to paint certain            
characteristic peculiarities1 7for      
instance1 the awkward carriage of the   
,bacchus-stricken ,pentheus in his      
female attire1 the gluttony of          
,hercules1 and his boisterous demands on
 the hospitality of ,admetus17          
,euripides was a precursor of the new   
comedy1 to which he had an evident      
inclination1 as he frequently paints1   
under the names of the heroic ages1 the 
men and manners of his own times4 ,hence
 ,menander expressed a most marked      
admiration for him1 and proclaimed      
himself his scholar2 and we have a      
fragment of ,philemon1 which displays   
such an extravagant admiration1 that it 
hardly appears to have been seriously   
meant4 ,if the dead1 he either himself  
says1 or makes one of his characters to 
say1 had indeed any sensation1 as some  
people think they have1 ,i would hang   
myself for the sake of seeing           
,euripides4--,with this adoration of the
 later comic authors1 the opinion of    

,aristophanes1 his contemporary1 forms a
 striking contrast4 ,aristophanes       
persecutes him bitterly and unceasingly2
 he seems almost ordained to be his     
perpetual scourge1 that none of his     
moral or poetical extravagances might go
 unpunished4 ,although as a comic poet  
,aristophanes is1 generally speaking1 in
 the relation of a parodist to the      
tragedians1 yet he never attacks        
,sophocles1 and even where he lays hold 
of ,aeschylus1 on that side of his      
character which certainly may excite a  
smile1 his reverence for him is still   
visible1 and he takes every opportunity 
of contrasting his gigantic grandeur    
with the petty refinements of           
,euripides4 ,with infinite cleverness   
and inexhaustible flow of wit1 he has   
exposed the sophistical subtilty1 the   
rhetorical and philosophical            
pretensions1 the immoral and seductive  
effeminacy1 and the excitations to      
undisguised sensuality of ,euripides4   
,as1 however1 modern critics have       

generally looked upon ,aristophanes as  
no better than a writer of extravagant  
and libellous farces1 and had no notion 
of eliciting the serious truths which he
 veiled beneath his merry disguises1 it 
is no wonder if they have paid but      
little attention to his opinion4  ,but  
with all this we must never forget that 
,euripides was still a ,greek1 and the  
contemporary of many of the greatest    
names of ,greece in politics1           
philosophy1 history1 and the fine arts4 
,if1 when compared with his             
predecessors1 he must rank far below    
them1 he appears in his turn great when 
placed by the side of many of the       
moderns4 ,he has a particular strength  
in portraying the aberrations of a soul 
diseased1 misguided1 and franticly      
abandoned to its passions4 ,he is       
admirable where the subject calls       
chiefly for emotion1 and makes no higher
 requisitions2 and he is still more so  
where pathos and moral beauty are       
united4 ,few of his pieces are without  

passages of the most ravishing beauty4  
,it is by no means my intention to deny 
him the possession of the most          
astonishing talents2 ,i have only stated
 that these talents were not united with
 a mind in which the austerity of moral 
principles1 and the sanctity of         
religious feelings1 were held in the    
highest honour4     ,,lecture ,,ix4     
,comparison between the ,choephorae of  
,aeschylus1 the ,electra of ,sophocles  
and that of ,euripides4   ,the relation 
in which ,euripides stood to his two    
great predecessors1 may be set in the   
clearest light by a comparison between  
their three pieces which we fortunately 
still possess1 on the same subject1     
namely1 the avenging murder of          
,clytemnestra by her son ,orestes4  ,the
 scene of the ,choephorae of ,aeschylus 
is laid in front of the royal palace2   
the tomb of ,agamemnon appears on the   
stage4 ,orestes appears at the          
sepulchre1 with his faithful ,pylades1  
and opens the play 7which is            

unfortunately somewhat mutilated at the 
commencement17 with a prayer to         
,mercury1 and with an invocation to his 
father1 in which he promises to avenge  
him1 and to whom he consecrates a lock  
of his hair4 ,he sees a female train in 
mourning weeds issuing from the palace1 
to bring a libation to the grave2 and1  
as he thinks he recognises his sister   
among them1 he steps aside with ,pylades
 in order to observe them unperceived4  
,the chorus1 which consists of captive  
,trojan virgins1 in a speech1           
accompanied with mournful gestures1     
reveals the occasion of their coming1   
namely1 a fearful dream of              
,clytemnestra2 it adds its own dark     
forebodings of an impending retribution 
of the bloody crime1 and bewails its lot
 in being obliged to serve unrighteous  
masters4 ,electra demands of the chorus 
whether she shall fulfil the commission 
of her hostile mother1 or pour out their
 offerings in silence2 and then1 in     
compliance with their advice1 she also  

offers up a prayer to the subterranean  
,mercury and to the soul of her father1 
in her own name and that of the absent  
,orestes1 that he may appear as the     
avenger4 ,while pouring out the offering
 she joins the chorus in lamentations   
for the departed hero4 ,presently1      
finding a lock of hair resembling her   
own in colour1 and seeing footsteps near
 the grave she conjectures that her     
brother has been there1 and when she is 
almost frantic with joy at the thought1 
,orestes steps forward and discovers    
himself4 ,he completely overcomes her   
doubts by exhibiting a garment woven by 
her own hand3 they give themselves up to
 their joy2 he addresses a prayer to    
,jupiter1 and makes known how ,apollo1  
under the most dreadful threats of      
persecution by his father's ,furies1 has
 called on him to destroy the authors of
 his death in the same manner as they   
had destroyed him1 namely1 by guile and 
cunning4 ,now follow odes of the chorus 
and ,electra2 partly consisting of      

prayers to her father's shade and the   
subterranean divinities1 and partly     
recapitulating all the motives for the  
deed1 especially those derived from the 
death of ,agamemnon4 ,orestes inquires  
into the vision which induced           
,clytemnestra to offer the libation1 and
 is informed that she dreamt that she   
had given her breast to a dragon in her 
son's cradle1 and suckled it with her   
blood4 ,he hereupon resolves to become  
this dragon1 and announces his intention
 of stealing into the house1 disguised  
as a stranger1 and attacking both her   
and ,aegisthus by surprise4 ,with this  
view he withdraws along with ,pylades4  
,the subject of the next choral hymn is 
the boundless audacity of mankind in    
general1 and especially of women in the 
gratification of their unlawful         
passions1 which it confirms by terrible 
examples from mythic story1 and descants
 upon the avenging justice which is sure
 to overtake them at last4 ,orestes1 in 
the guise of a stranger1 returns with   

,pylades1 and desires admission into the
 palace4 ,clytemnestra comes out1 and   
being informed by him of the death of   
,orestes1 at which tidings ,electra     
assumes a feigned grief1 she invites him
 to enter and partake of their          
hospitality4 ,after a short prayer of   
the chorus1 the nurse comes and mourns  
for her foster-child2 the chorus        
inspires her with a hope that he yet    
lives1 and advises her to contrive to   
bring ,aegisthus1 for whom ,clytemnestra
 has sent her1 not with1 but without his
 body guard4 ,as the critical moment    
draws near1 the chorus proffers prayers 
to ,jupiter and ,mercury for the success
 of the plot4 ,aegisthus enters into    
conversation with the messenger3 he can 
hardly allow himself to believe the     
joyful news of the death of ,orestes1   
and hastens into the house for the      
purpose of ascertaining the truth1 from 
whence1 after a short prayer of the     
chorus1 we hear the cries of the        
murdered4 ,a servant rushes out1 and to 

warn ,clytemnestra gives the alarm at   
the door of the women's apartment4 ,she 
hears it1 comes forward1 and calls for  
an axe to defend herself2 but as        
,orestes instantaneously rushes on her  
with the bloody sword1 her courage fails
 her1 and1 most affectingly1 she holds  
up to him the breast at which she had   
suckled him4 ,hesitating in his purpose1
 he asks the counsel of ,pylades1 who in
 a few lines exhorts him by the most    
cogent reasons to persist2 after a brief
 dialogue of accusation and defence1 he 
pursues her into the house to slay her  
beside the body of ,aegisthus4 ,in a    
solemn ode the chorus exults in the     
consummated retribution4 ,the doors of  
the palace are thrown open1 and disclose
 in the chamber the two dead bodies laid
 side by side on one bed4 ,orestes      
orders the servants to unfold the       
garment in whose capacious folds his    
father was muffled when he was slain1   
that it may be seen by all2 the chorus  
recognise on it the stains of blood1 and

 mourn afresh the murder of ,agamemnon4 
,orestes1 feeling his mind already      
becoming confused1 seizes the first     
moment to justify his acts1 and having  
declared his intention of repairing to  
,delphi to purify himself from his      
blood-guiltiness1 flies in terror from  
the furies of his mother1 whom the      
chorus does not perceive1 but conceives 
to be a mere phantom of his imagination1
 but who1 nevertheless1 will no longer  
allow him any repose4 ,the chorus       
concludes with a reflection on the scene
 of murder thrice-repeated in the royal 
palace since the repast of ,thyestes4   
,the scene of the ,electra of ,sophocles
 is also laid before the palace1 but    
does not contain the grave of           
,agamemnon4 ,at break of day ,pylades1  
,orestes1 and the guardian slave who had
 been his preserver on that bloody day1 
enter the stage as just arriving from a 
foreign country4 ,the keeper who acts as
 his guide commences with a description 
of his native city1 and he is answered  

by ,orestes1 who recounts the commission
 given him by ,apollo1 and the manner in
 which he intends to carry it into      
execution1 after which the young man    
puts up a prayer to his domestic gods   
and to the house of his fathers4        
,electra is heard complaining within2   
,orestes is desirous of greeting her    
without delay1 but the old man leads him
 away to offer a sacrifice at the grave 
of his father4 ,electra then appears1   
and pours out her sorrow in a pathetic  
address to heaven1 and in a prayer to   
the infernal deities her unconquerable  
desire of revenge4 ,the chorus1 which   
consists of native virgins1 endeavours  
to console her2 and1 interchanging hymn 
and speech with the chorus1 ,electra    
discloses her unabatable sorrow1 the    
contumely and oppression under which she
 suffers1 and her hopelessness          
occasioned by the many delays of        
,orestes1 notwithstanding her frequent  
exhortations2 and she turns a deaf ear  
to all the grounds of consolation which 

the chorus can suggest4 ,chrysothemis1  
,clytemnestra's younger1 more           
submissive1 and favourite daughter1     
approaches with an offering which she is
 to carry to the grave of her father4   
,their difference of sentiment leads to 
an altercation between the two sisters1 
during which ,chrysothemis informs      
,electra that ,aegisthus1 now absent in 
the country1 has determined to adopt the
 most severe measures with her1 whom1   
however1 she sets at defiance4 ,she then
 learns from her sister that            
,clytemnestra has had a dream that      
,agamemnon had come to life again1 and  
had planted his sceptre in the floor of 
the house1 and it had grown up into a   
tree that overshadowed the whole land2  
that1 alarmed at this vision1 she had   
commissioned ,chrysothemis to carry an  
oblation to his grave4 ,electra counsels
 her not to execute the commands of her 
wicked mother1 but to put up a prayer   
for herself and her sister1 and for the 
return of ,orestes as the avenger of his

 father2 she then adds to the oblation  
her own girdle and a lock of her hair4  
,chrysothemis goes off1 promising       
obedience to her wishes4 ,the chorus    
augurs from the dream1 that retribution 
is at hand1 and traces back the crimes  
committed in this house to the primal   
sin of ,pelops4 ,clytemnestra rebukes   
her daughter1 with whom1 however1       
probably under the influence of the     
dream1 she is milder than usual2 she    
defends her murder of ,agamemnon1       
,electra condemns her for it1 but       
without violent altercation4 ,upon this 
,clytemnestra1 standing at the altar in 
front of the house1 proffers a prayer to
 ,apollo for health and long life1 and a
 secret one for the death of her son4   
,the guardian of ,orestes arrives1 and1 
in the character of a messenger from a  
,phocian friend1 announces the death of 
,orestes1 and minutely enumerates all   
the circumstances which attended his    
being killed in a chariot-race at the   
,pythian games4 ,clytemnestra1 although 

visited for a moment with a mother's    
feelings1 can scarce conceal her        
triumphant joy1 and invites the         
messenger to partake of the hospitality 
of her house4 ,electra1 in touching     
speeches and hymns1 gives herself up to 
grief2 the chorus in vain endeavours to 
console her4 ,chrysothemis returns from 
the grave1 full of joy in the assurance 
that ,orestes is near2 for she has found
 his lock of hair1 his drink-offering   
and wreaths of flowers4 ,this serves but
 to renew the despair of ,electra1 who  
recounts to her sister the gloomy       
tidings which have just arrived1 and    
exhorts her1 now that all other hope is 
at an end1 to join with her in the      
daring deed of putting ,aegisthus to    
death3 a proposal which ,chrysothemis1  
not possessing the necessary courage1   
rejects as foolish1 and after a violent 
altercation she re-enters the house4    
,the chorus bewails ,electra1 now left  
utterly desolate4 ,orestes returns with 
,pylades and several servants bearing an

 urn with the pretended ashes of the    
deceased youth4 ,electra begs it of     
them1 and laments over it in the most   
affecting language1 which agitates      
,orestes to such a degree that he can no
 longer conceal himself2 after some     
preparation he discloses himself to her1
 and confirms the announcement by       
producing the seal-ring of their father4
 ,she gives vent in speech and song to  
her unbounded joy1 till the old         
attendant of ,orestes comes out and     
reprimands them both for their want of  
consideration4 ,electra with some       
difficulty recognizes in him the        
faithful servant to whom she had        
entrusted the care of ,orestes1 and     
expresses her gratitude to him4 ,at the 
suggestion of the old man1 ,orestes and 
,pylades accompany him with all speed   
into the house1 in order to surprise    
,clytemnestra while she is still alone4 
,electra offers up a prayer to ,apollo  
in their behalf2 the choral ode         
announces the moment of retribution4    

,from within the house is heard the     
shrieks of the affrighted ,clytemnestra1
 her short prayer1 her cry of agony     
under the death-blow4 ,electra from     
without stimulates ,orestes to complete 
the deed1 and he comes out with bloody  
hands4 ,warned however by the chorus of 
the approach of ,aegisthus1 he hastily  
re-enters the house in order to take him
 by surprise4 ,aegisthus inquires into  
the story of ,orestes' death1 and from  
the ambiguous language of ,electra is   
led to believe that his corpse is in the
 palace4 ,he commands all the gates to  
be thrown open1 immediately1 for the    
purpose of convincing those of the      
people who yielded reluctant obedience  
to his sovereignty1 that they had no    
longer any hopes in ,orestes4 ,the      
middle entrance opens1 and discloses in 
the interior of the palace a body lying 
on the bed1 but closely covered over3   
,orestes stands beside the body1 and    
invites ,aegisthus to uncover it2 he    
suddenly beholds the bloody corpse of   

,clytemnestra1 and concludes himself    
lost and without hope4 ,he requests to  
be allowed to speak1 but this is        
prevented by ,electra4 ,orestes         
constrains him to enter the house1 that 
he may kill him on the very spot where  
his own father had been murdered4  ,the 
scene of the ,electra of ,euripides is  
not in ,mycenae1 in the open country1   
but on the borders of ,argolis1 and     
before a solitary and miserable cottage4
 ,the owner1 an old peasant1 comes out  
and in a prologue tells the audience how
 matters stand in the royal house1 with 
this addition1 however1 to the incidents
 related in the two plays already       
considered1 that not content to treat   
,electra with ignominy1 and to leave her
 in a state of celibacy1 they had forced
 her to marry beneath her rank1 and to  
accept of himself for a husband3 the    
motives he assigns for this proceeding  
are singular enough2 he declares1       
however1 that he has too much respect   
for her to reduce her to the humiliation

 of becoming in reality his wife4--,they
 live therefore in virgin wedlock4      
,electra comes forth before it is yet   
daybreak bearing upon her head1 which is
 close shorn in servile fashion1 a      
pitcher to fetch water3 her husband     
entreats her not to trouble herself with
 such unaccustomed labours1 but she will
 not be withheld from the discharge of  
her household duties2 and the two       
depart1 he to his work in the field and 
she upon her errand4 ,orestes now enters
 with ,pylades1 and1 in a speech to him1
 states that he has already sacrificed  
at his father's grave1 but that not     
daring to enter the city1 he wishes to  
find his sister1 who1 he is aware1 is   
married and dwells somewhere near on the
 frontiers1 that he may learn from her  
the posture of affairs4 ,he sees        
,electra approach with the              
water-pitcher1 and retires4 ,she breaks 
out into an ode bewailing her own fate  
and that of her father4 ,hereupon the   
chorus1 consisting of rustic virgins1   

makes its appearance1 and exhorts her to
 take a part in a festival of ,juno1    
which she1 however1 depressed in spirit1
 pointing to her tattered garments1     
declines4 ,the chorus offer to supply   
her with festal ornaments1 but she still
 refuses4 ,she perceives ,orestes and   
,pylades in their hiding-place1 takes   
them for robbers1 and hastens to escape 
into the house2 when ,orestes steps     
forward and prevents her1 she imagines  
he intends to murder her2 he removes her
 fears1 and gives her assurances that   
her brother is still alive4 ,on this he 
inquires into her situation1 and the    
spectators are again treated with a     
repetition of all the circumstances4    
,orestes still forbears to disclose     
himself1 and promising merely to carry  
any message from ,electra to her        
brother1 testifies1 as a stranger1 his  
sympathy in her situation4 ,the chorus  
seizes this opportunity of gratifying   
its curiosity about the fatal events of 
the city2 and ,electra1 after describing

 her own misery1 depicts the wantonness 
and arrogance of her mother and         
,aegisthus1 who1 she says1 leaps in     
contempt upon ,agamemnon's grave1 and   
throws stones at it4 ,the peasant       
returns from his work1 and thinks it    
rather indecorous in his wife to be     
gossiping with young men1 but when he   
hears that they have brought news of    
,orestes1 he invites them in a friendly 
manner into his house4 ,orestes1 on     
witnessing the behaviour of the worthy  
man1 makes the reflection that the most 
estimable people are frequently to be   
found in low stations1 and in lowly     
garb4 ,electra upbraids her husband for 
inviting them1 knowing as he must that  
they had nothing in the house to        
entertain them with2 he is of opinion   
that the strangers will be satisfied    
with what he has1 that a good housewife 
can always make the most of things1 and 
that they have at least enough for one  
day4 ,she dispatches him to ,orestes'   
old keeper and preserver who lives hard 

by them1 to bid him come and bring      
something with him to entertain the     
strangers1 and the peasant departs      
muttering wise saws about riches and    
moderation4 ,the chorus bursting out    
into an ode on the expedition of the    
,greeks against ,troy1 describes at     
great length the figures wrought on the 
shield which ,achilles received from    
,thetis1 and concludes with expressing a
 wish that ,clytemnestra may be punished
 for her wickedness4  ,the old guardian1
 who with no small difficulty ascends   
the hill towards the house1 brings      
,electra a lamb1 a cheese1 and a skin of
 wine2 he then begins to weep1 not      
failing of course to wipe his eyes with 
his tattered garments4 ,in reply to the 
questions of ,electra he states1 that at
 the grave of ,agamemnon he found traces
 of an oblation and a lock of hair2 from
 which circumstance he conjectured that 
,orestes had been there4 ,we have then  
an allusion to the means which          
,aeschylus had employed to bring about  

the recognition1 namely1 the resemblance
 of the hair1 the prints of feet1 as    
well as the homespun-robe1 with a       
condemnation of them as insufficient and
 absurd4 ,the probability of this part  
of the drama of ,aeschylus may1 perhaps1
 admit of being cleared up1 at all      
events one is ready to overlook it2 but 
an express reference like this to       
another author's treatment of the same  
subject1 is the most annoying           
interruption and the most fatal to      
genuine poetry that can possibly be     
conceived4 ,the guests come out2 the old
 man attentively considers ,orestes1    
recognizes him1 and convinces ,electra  
that he is her brother by a scar on his 
eyebrow1 which he received from a fall  
7this is the superb invention1 which he 
substitutes for that of ,aeschylus71    
,orestes and ,electra embrace during a  
short choral ode1 and abandon themselves
 to their joy4 ,in a long dialogue1     
,orestes1 the old slave1 and ,electra1  
form their plans4 ,the old man informs  

them that ,aegisthus is at present in   
the country sacrificing to the ,nymphs1 
and ,orestes resolves to steal there as 
a guest1 and to fall on him by surprise4
 ,clytemnestra1 from a dread of         
unpleasant remarks1 has not accompanied 
him2 and ,electra undertakes to entice  
her mother to them by a false message of
 her being in child-bed4 ,the brother   
and sister now join in prayers to the   
gods and their father's shade1 for a    
successful issue of their designs4      
,electra declares that she will put an  
end to her existence if they should     
miscarry1 and1 for that purpose1 she    
will keep a sword in readiness4 ,the old
 tutor departs with ,orestes to conduct 
him to ,aegisthus1 and to repair        
afterwards to ,clytemnestra4 ,the chorus
 sings of the ,golden ,ram1 which       
,thyestes1 by the assistance of the     
faithless wife of ,atreus1 was enabled  
to carry off from him1 and the repast   
furnished with the flesh of his own     
children1 with which he was punished in 

return2 at the sight of which the sun   
turned aside from his course2 a         
circumstance1 however1 which the chorus 
very sapiently adds1 that it was very   
much inclined to call in question4 ,from
 a distance is heard a noise of tumult  
and groans2 ,electra fears that her     
brother has been overcome1 and is on the
 point of killing herself4 ,but at the  
moment a messenger arrives1 who gives a 
long-winded account of the death of     
,aegisthus1 and interlards it with many 
a joke4 ,amidst the rejoicings of the   
chorus1 ,electra fetches a wreath and   
crowns her brother1 who holds in his    
hands the head of ,aegisthus by the     
hair4 ,this head she upbraids in a long 
speech with its follies and crimes1 and 
among other things says to it1 it is    
never well to marry a woman with whom   
one has previously lived in illicit     
intercourse2 that it is an unseemly     
thing when a woman obtains the mastery  
in a family1 c4 ,clytemnestra is now    
seen approaching2 ,orestes begins to    

have scruples of conscience as to his   
purpose of murdering a mother1 and the  
authority of the oracle1 but yields to  
the persuasions of ,electra1 and agrees 
to do the deed within the house4 ,the   
queen arrives1 drawn in a chariot       
sumptuously hung with tapestry1 and     
surrounded by ,trojan slaves2 ,electra  
makes an offer to assist her in         
alighting1 which1 however1 is declined4 
,clytemnestra then alleges the sacrifice
 of ,iphigenia as a justification of her
 own conduct towards ,agamemnon1 and    
calls even upon her daughter to state   
her reasons in condemnation1 that an    
opportunity may be given to the latter  
of delivering a subtle1 captious        
harangue1 in which1 among other things1 
she reproaches her mother with having1  
during the absence of ,agamemnon1 sat   
before her mirror1 and studied her      
toilette too much4 ,with all this       
,clytemnestra is not provoked1 even     
though her daughter does not hesitate to
 declare her intention of putting her to

 death if ever it should be in her      
power2 she makes inquiries about her    
daughter's supposed confinement1 and    
enters the hut to prepare the necessary 
sacrifice of purification4 ,electra     
accompanies her with a sarcastic speech4
 ,on this the chorus begins an ode on   
retribution3 the shrieks of the murdered
 woman are heard within the house1 and  
the brother and sister come out stained 
with her blood4 ,they are full of       
repentance and despair at the deed which
 they have committed2 increase their    
remorse by repeating the pitiable words 
and gestures of their dying parent4     
,orestes determines on flight into      
foreign lands1 while ,electra asks1 ,who
 will now take me in marriage8 ,castor  
and ,pollux1 their uncles1 appear in the
 air1 abuse ,apollo on account of his   
oracle1 command ,orestes1 in order to   
save himself from the ,furies1 to submit
 to the sentence of the ,areopagus1 and 
conclude with predicting a number of    
events which are yet to happen to him4  

,they then enjoin a marriage between    
,electra and ,pylades2 who are to take  
her first husband with them to ,phocis1 
and there richly to provide for him4    
,after a further outburst of sorrow1 the
 brother and sister take leave of one   
another for life1 and the piece         
concludes4  ,we easily perceive that    
,aeschylus has viewed the subject in its
 most terrible aspect1 and drawn it     
within that domain of the gloomy        
divinities1 whose recesses he so loves  
to haunt4 ,the grave of ,agamemnon is   
the murky gloom from which retributive  
vengeance issues2 his discontented      
shade1 the soul of the whole poem4 ,the 
obvious external defect1 that the action
 lingers too long at the same point1    
without any sensible progress1 appears1 
on reflection1 a true internal          
perfection3 it is the stillness of      
expectation before a deep storm or an   
earthquake4 ,it is true the prayers are 
repeated1 but their very accumulation   
heightens the impression of a great     

unheard-of purpose1 for which human     
powers and motives by themselves are    
insufficient4 ,in the murder of         
,clytemnestra1 and her heart-rending    
appeals1 the poet1 without disguising   
her guilt1 has gone to the very verge of
 what was allowable in awakening our    
sympathy with her sufferings4 ,the crime
 which is to be punished is kept in view
 from the very first by the grave1 and1 
at the conclusion1 it is brought still  
nearer to our minds by the unfolding the
 fatal garment3 thus1 ,agamemnon non1   
after being fully avenged1 is1 as it    
were1 murdered again before the mental  
eye4 ,the flight of ,orestes betrays no 
undignified weakness or repentance2 it  
is merely the inevitable tribute which  
he must pay to offended nature4  ,it is 
only necessary to notice in general     
terms the admirable management of the   
subject by ,sophocles4 ,what a beautiful
 introduction has he made to precede the
 queen's mission to the grave1 with     
which ,aeschylus begins at once6 ,with  

what polished ornament has he           
embellished it throughout1 for example1 
with the description of the games6 ,with
 what nice judgment does he husband the 
pathos of ,electra2 first1 general      
lamentations1 then hopes derived from   
the dream1 their annihilation by the    
news of ,orestes' death1 the new hopes  
suggested by ,chrysothemis only to be   
rejected1 and lastly her mourning over  
the urn4 ,electra's heroism is finely   
set off by the contrast with her more   
submissive sister4 ,the poet has given  
quite a new turn to the subject by      
making ,electra the chief object of     
interest4 ,a noble pair has the poet    
here given us2 the sister endued with   
unshaken constancy in true and noble    
sentiments1 and the invincible heroism  
of endurance2 the brother prompt and    
vigorous in all the energy of youth4 ,to
 this he skilfully opposes              
circumspection and experience in the old
 man1 while the fact that ,sophocles as 
well as ,aeschylus has left ,pylades    

silent1 is a proof how carefully ancient
 art disdained all unnecessary          
surplusage4  ,but what more especially  
characterizes the tragedy of ,sophocles1
 is the heavenly serenity beside a      
subject so terrific1 the fresh air of   
life and youth which breathes through   
the whole4 ,the bright divinity of      
,apollo1 who enjoined the deed1 seems to
 shed his influence over it2 even the   
break of day1 in the opening scene1 is  
significant4 ,the grave and the world of
 shadows1 are kept in the background3   
what in ,aeschylus is effected by the   
spirit of the murdered monarch1 proceeds
 here from the heart of the still living
 ,electra1 which is endowed with an     
equal capacity for inextinguishable     
hatred or ardent love4 ,the disposition 
to avoid everything dark and ominous1 is
 remarkable even in the very first      
speech of ,orestes1 where he says he    
feels no concern at being thought dead1 
so long as he knows himself to be alive1
 and in the full enjoyment of health and

 strength4 ,he is not beset with        
misgivings or stings of conscience      
either before or after the deed1 so that
 the determination is more steadily     
maintained by ,sophocles than in        
,aeschylus2 and the appalling scene with
 ,aegisthus1 and the reserving him for  
an ignominious death to the very close  
of the piece1 is more austere and solemn
 than anything in the older drama4      
,clytemnestra's dreams furnish the most 
striking token of the relation which the
 two poets bear to each other3 both are 
equally appropriate1 significant1 and   
ominous2 that of ,aeschylus is grander1 
but appalling to the senses2 that of    
,sophocles1 in its very tearfulness1    
majestically beautiful4  ,the piece of  
,euripides is a singular example of     
poetic1 or rather unpoetic obliquity2 we
 should never have done were we to      
attempt to point out all its absurdities
 and contradictions4 ,why1 for instance1
 does ,orestes fruitlessly torment his  
sister by maintaining his incognito so  

long8 ,the poet too1 makes it a light   
matter to throw aside whatever stands in
 his way1 as in the case of the peasant1
 of whom1 after his departure to summon 
the old keeper1 we have no farther      
account4 ,partly for the sake of        
appearing original1 and partly from an  
idea that to make ,orestes kill the king
 and queen in the middle of their       
capital would be inconsistent with      
probability1 ,euripides has involved    
himself in still greater                
improbabilities4 ,whatever there is of  
the tragical in his drama is not his    
own1 but belongs either to the fable1 to
 his predecessors1 or to tradition4 ,in 
his hands1 at least1 it has ceased to be
 tragedy1 but is lowered into a family  
picture1 in the modern signification of 
the word4 ,the effect attempted to be   
produced by the poverty of ,electra is  
pitiful in the extreme2 the poet has    
betrayed his secret in the complacent   
display which she makes of her misery4  
,all the preparations for the crowning  

act are marked by levity1 and a want of 
internal conviction3 it is a gratuitous 
torture of our feelings to make         
,aegisthus display a good- natured      
hospitality1 and ,clytemnestra a        
maternal sympathy with her daughter1    
merely to excite our compassion in their
 behalf2 the deed is no sooner executed1
 but its effect is obliterated by the   
most despicable repentance1 a repentance
 which arises from no moral feeling1 but
 from a merely animal revulsion4 ,i     
shall say nothing of his abuse of the   
oracle of ,delphi4 ,as it destroys the  
very basis of the whole drama1 ,i cannot
 see why ,euripides should have written 
it1 except to provide a fortunate       
marriage for ,electra1 and to reward the
 peasant for his continency4 ,i could   
wish that the wedding of ,pylades had   
been celebrated on the stage1 and that a
 good round sum of money had been paid  
to the peasant on the spot2 then        
everything would have ended to the      
satisfaction of the spectators as in an 

ordinary comedy4  ,not1 however1 to be  
unjust1 ,i must admit that the ,electra 
is perhaps the very worst of ,euripides'
 pieces4 ,was it the rage for novelty   
which led him here into such faults8 ,he
 was truly to be pitied for having been 
preceded in the treatment of this same  
subject by two such men as ,sophocles   
and ,aeschylus4 ,but what compelled him 
to measure his powers with theirs1 and  
to write an ,electra at all8            
,,lecture ,x4  ,character of the        
remaining ,works of ,euripides--,the    
,satirical ,drama-- ,alexandrian ,tragic
 ,poets4   ,of the plays of ,euripides1 
which have come down to us in great     
number1 we can only give a very short   
and general account4  ,on the score of  
beautiful morality1 there is none of    
them1 perhaps1 so deserving of praise as
 the ,alcestis4 ,her resolution to die1 
and the farewell which she takes of her 
husband and children1 are depicted with 
the most overpowering pathos4 ,the      
poet's forbearance1 in not allowing the 

heroine to speak on her return from the 
infernal world1 lest he might draw aside
 the mysterious veil which shrouds the  
condition of the dead1 is deserving of  
high praise4 ,admetus1 it is true1 and  
more especially his father1 sink too    
much in our esteem from their selfish   
love of life2 and ,hercules appears1 at 
first1 blunt even to rudeness1          
afterwards more noble and worthy of     
himself1 and at last jovial1 when1 for  
the sake of the joke1 he introduces to  
,admetus his veiled wife as a new bride4
  ,iphigenia in ,aulis is a subject     
peculiarly suited to the tastes and     
powers of ,euripides2 the object here is
 to excite a tender emotion for the     
innocent and child-like simplicity of   
the heroine3 but ,iphigenia is still    
very far from being an ,antigone4       
,aristotle has already remarked that the
 character is not well sustained        
throughout4 ,iphigenia imploring1 he    
says1 has no resemblance to ,iphigenia  
afterwards yielding herself up a willing

 sacrifice4  ,ion is also one of his    
most delightful pieces1 on account of   
the picture of innocence and priestly   
sanctity in the boy whose name it bears4
 ,in the course of the plot1 it is true1
 there are not a few improbabilities1   
makeshifts1 and repetitions2 and the    
catastrophe1 produced by a falsehood1 in
 which both gods and men unite against  
,xuthus1 can hardly be satisfactory to  
our feelings4  ,as delineations of      
female passion1 and of the aberrations  
of a mind diseased1 ,phaedra and ,medea 
have been justly praised4 ,the play in  
which the former is introduced dazzles  
us by the sublime and beautiful heroism 
of ,hippolytus2 and it is also deserving
 of the highest commendation on account 
of the observance of propriety and moral
 strictness1 in so critical a subject4  
,this1 however1 is not so much the merit
 of the poet himself as of the delicacy 
of his contemporaries2 for the          
,hippolytus which we possess1 according 
to the scholiast1 is an improvement upon

 an earlier one1 in which there was much
 that was offensive and reprehensible4  
,footnote3 ,the learned and acute       
,brunck1 without citing any authority1  
or the coincidence of fragments in      
corroboration1 says that ,seneca in his 
,hippolytus1 followed the plan of the   
earlier play of ,euripides1 called the  
,veiled ,hippolytus4 ,how far this is   
mere conjecture ,i cannot say1 but at   
any rate ,i should be inclined to doubt 
whether ,euripides1 even in the censured
 drama1 admitted the scene of the       
declaration of love1 which ,racine1     
however in his ,phaedra4 has not        
hesitated to adopt from ,seneca4  ,the  
opening of the ,medea is admirable2 her 
desperate situation is1 by the          
conversation between her nurse and the  
keeper of her children1 and her own     
wailings behind the scene1 depicted with
 most touching effect4 ,as soon1        
however1 as she makes her appearance1   
the poet takes care to cool our emotion 
by the number of general and commonplace

 reflections which he puts into her     
mouth4 ,lower does she sink in the scene
 with ,aegeus1 where1 meditating a      
terrible revenge on ,jason1 she first   
secures a place of refuge1 and seems    
almost on the point of bespeaking a new 
connection4 ,this is very unlike the    
daring criminal who has reduced the     
powers of nature to minister to her     
ungovernable passions1 and speeds from  
land to land like a desolating          
meteor2--the ,medea who1 abandoned by   
all the world1 was still sufficient for 
herself4 ,nothing but a wish to humour  
,athenian antiquities could have induced
 ,euripides to adopt this cold          
interpolation of his story4 ,with this  
exception he has1 in the most vivid     
colours1 painted1 in one and the same   
person1 the mighty enchantress1 and the 
woman weak only from the social position
 of her sex4 ,as it is1 we are keenly   
affected by the struggles of maternal   
tenderness in the midst of her          
preparations for the cruel deed4        

,moreover1 she announces her deadly     
purpose much too soon and too           
distinctly1 instead of brooding awhile  
over the first confused1 dark suggestion
 of it4 ,when she does put it in        
execution1 her thirst of revenge on     
,jason might1 we should have thought1   
have been sufficiently slaked by the    
horrible death of his young wife and her
 father2 and the new motive1 namely1    
that ,jason1 as she pretends1 would     
infallibly murder the children1 and     
therefore she must anticipate him1 will 
by no means bear examination4 ,for she  
could as easily have saved the living   
children with herself1 as have carried  
off their dead bodies in the            
dragon-chariot4 ,still this may1        
perhaps1 be justified by the            
perturbation of mind into which she was 
plunged by the crime she had            
perpetrated4  ,perhaps it was such      
pictures of universal sorrow1 of the    
fall of flourishing families and states 
from the greatest glory to the lowest   

misery1 nay1 to entire annihilation1 as 
,euripides has sketched in the ,troades1
 that gained for him1 from ,aristotle1  
the title of the most tragic of poets4  
,the concluding scene1 where the captive
 ladies1 allotted as slaves to different
 masters1 leave ,troy in flames behind  
them1 and proceed towards the ships1 is 
truly grand4 ,it is impossible1 however1
 for a piece to have less action1 in the
 energetical sense of the word3 it is a 
series of situations and events1 which  
have no other connexion than that of a  
common origin in the capture of ,troy1  
but in no respect have they a common    
aim4 ,the accumulation of helpless      
suffering1 against which the will and   
sentiment even are not allowed to       
revolt1 at last wearies us1 and exhausts
 our compassion4 ,the greater the       
struggle to avert a calamity1 the deeper
 the impression it makes when it bursts 
forth after all4 ,but when so little    
concern is shown1 as is here the case   
with ,astyanax1 for the speech of       

,talthybius prevents even the slightest 
attempt to save him1 the spectator soon 
acquiesces in the result4 ,in this way  
,euripides frequently fails4 ,in the    
ceaseless demands which this play makes 
on our compassion1 the pathos is not    
duly economized and brought to a climax3
 for instance1 ,andromache's lament over
 her living son is much more heart-     
rending than that of ,hecuba for her    
dead one4 ,the effect of the latter is1 
however1 aided by the sight of the      
little corpse lying on ,hector's shield4
 ,indeed1 in the composition of this    
piece the poet has evidently reckoned   
much on ocular effect3 thus1 for the    
sake of contrast with the captive       
ladies1 ,helen appears splendidly       
dressed1 ,andromache is mounted on a car
 laden with spoils2 and ,i doubt not but
 that at the conclusion the entire scene
 was in flames4 ,the trial of ,helen    
painfully interrupts the train of our   
sympathies1 by an idle altercation which
 ends in nothing2 for in spite of the   

accusations of ,hecuba1 ,menelaus abides
 by the resolution which he had         
previously formed4 ,the defence of      
,helen is about as entertaining as      
,isocrates' sophistical eulogium of her4
  ,euripides was not content with making
 ,hecuba roll in the dust with covered  
head1 and whine a whole piece through2  
he has also introduced her in another   
tragedy which bears her name1 as the    
standing representative of suffering and
 woe4 ,the two actions of this piece1   
the sacrifice of ,polyxena1 and the     
revenge on ,polymestor1 on account of   
the murder of ,polydorus1 have nothing  
in common with each other but their     
connexion with ,hecuba4 ,the first half 
possesses great beauties of that        
particular kind in which ,euripides is  
pre-eminently successful3 pictures of   
tender youth1 female innocence1 and     
noble resignation to an early and       
violent death4 ,a human sacrifice1 that 
triumph of barbarian superstition1 is   
represented as executed1 suffered1 and  

looked upon1 with that ,hellenism of    
feeling which so early effected the     
abolition of such sacrifices among the  
,greeks4 ,but the second half most      
revoltingly effaces these soft          
impressions4 ,it is made up of the      
revengeful artifices of ,hecuba1 the    
blind avarice of ,polymestor1 and the   
paltry policy of ,agamemnon1 who1 not   
daring himself to call the ,thracian    
king to account1 nevertheless beguiles  
him into the hands of the captive women4
 ,neither is it very consistent that    
,hecuba1 advanced in years1 bereft of   
strength1 and overwhelmed with sorrow1  
should nevertheless display so much     
presence of mind in the execution of    
revenge1 and such a command of tongue in
 her accusation and derision of         
,polymestor4  ,we have another example  
of two distinct and separate actions in 
the same tragedy1 the ,mad ,hercules4   
,the first is the distress of his family
 during his absence1 and their          
deliverance by his return2 the second1  

his remorse at having in a sudden frenzy
 murdered his wife and children4 ,the   
one action follows1 but by no means     
arises out of the other4  ,the          
,phoenissae is rich in tragic incidents1
 in the common acceptation of the word3 
the son of ,creon1 to save his native   
city1 precipitates himself from the     
walls2 ,eteocles and ,polynices perish  
by each other's hands2 over their dead  
bodies ,jocasta falls by her own hand2  
the ,argives who hare made war upon     
,thebes are destroyed in battle2        
,polynices remains uninterred2 and      
lastly1 ,oedipus and ,antigone are      
driven into exile4 ,after this          
enumeration of the incidents1 the       
,scholiast aptly notices the arbitrary  
manner in which the poet has proceeded1 
,this drama1 says he1 is beautiful in   
theatrical effect1 even because it is   
full of incidents totally foreign to the
 proper action4 ,antigone looking down  
from the walls has nothing to do with   
the action1 and ,polynices enters the   

town under the safe-conduct of a truce1 
without any effect being thereby        
produced4 ,after all the rest the       
banished ,oedipus and a wordy ode are   
tacked on1 being equally to no purpose4 
,this is a severe criticism1 but it is  
just4  ,not more lenient is the         
,scholiast on ,orestes3 ,this piece1 he 
says1 is one of those which produce a   
great effect on the stage1 but with     
respect to characters it is extremely   
bad2 for1 with the exception of         
,pylades1 all the rest are good for     
nothing4 ,moreover1 ,its catastrophe is 
more suitable to comedy than tragedy4   
,this drama begins1 indeed1 in the most 
agitating manner4 ,orestes1 after the   
murder of his mother1 is represented    
lying on his bed1 afflicted with anguish
 of soul and madness2 ,electra sits at  
his feet1 and she and the chorus remain 
in trembling expectation of his awaking4
 ,afterwards1 however1 everything takes 
a perverse turn1 and ends with the most 
violent strokes of stage effect4  ,the  

,iphigenia in ,tauris1 in which the fate
 of ,orestes is still further followed  
out1 is less wild and extravagant1 but  
in the representation both of character 
or passion1 it seldom rises above       
mediocrity4 ,the mutual recognition     
between brother and sister1 after such  
adventures and actions1 as that         
,iphigenia1 who had herself once        
trembled before the bloody altar1 was on
 the point of devoting her brother to a 
similar fate1 produces no more than a   
transient emotion4 ,the flight of       
,orestes and his sister is not highly   
calculated to excite our interest3 the  
artifice by which ,iphigenia brings it  
about is readily credited by ,thoas1 who
 does not attempt to make any opposition
 till both are safe1 and then he is     
appeased by one of the ordinary divine  
interpositions4 ,this device has been so
 used and abused by ,euripides1 that in 
nine out of his eighteen tragedies1 a   
divinity descends to unravel the        
complicated knot4  ,in ,andromache      

,orestes makes his appearance for the   
fourth time4 ,the ,scholiast1 in whose  
opinion we may1 we think1 generally     
recognize the sentiments of the most    
important of ancient critics1 declares  
this to be a very second-rate play1 in  
which single scenes alone are deserving 
of any praise4 ,of those on which       
,racine has based his free imitations1  
this is unquestionably the very worst1  
and therefore the ,french critics have  
an easy game to play in their endeavours
 to depreciate the ,grecian predecessor1
 from whom ,racine has in fact derived  
little more than the first suggestion of
 his tragedy4  ,the ,bacchae represents 
the infectious and tumultuous enthusiasm
 of the worship of ,bacchus1 with great 
sensuous power and vividness of         
conception4 ,the obstinate unbelief of  
,pentheus1 his infatuation1 and terrible
 punishment by the hands of his own     
mother1 form a bold picture4 ,the effect
 on the stage must have been            
extraordinary4 ,imagine1 only1 a chorus 

with flying and dishevelled hair and    
dress1 tambourines1 cymbals1 c41 in     
their hands1 like the ,bacchants we see 
on bas-reliefs1 bursting impetuously    
into the orchestra1 and executing their 
inspired dances amidst tumultuous       
music1--a circumstance1 altogether      
unusual1 as the choral odes were        
generally sung and danced at a solemn   
step1 and with no other accompaniment   
than a flute4 ,here the luxuriance of   
ornament1 which ,euripides everywhere   
affects1 was for once appropriate4      
,when1 therefore1 several of the modern 
critics assign to this piece a very low 
rank1 they seem to me not to know what  
they themselves would wish4 ,in the     
composition of this piece1 ,i cannot    
help admiring a harmony and unity1 which
 we seldom meet with in ,euripides1 as  
well as abstinence from every foreign   
matter1 so that all the motives and     
effects flow from one source1 and concur
 towards a common end4 ,after the       
,hippolytus1 ,i should be inclined to   

assign to this play the first place     
among all the extant works of           
,euripides4  ,the ,heraclidae and the   
,supplices are mere occasional          
tragedies1 i4e41 owing their existence  
to some temporary incident or           
excitement1 and they must have been     
indebted for their success to nothing   
else but their flattery of the          
,athenians4 ,they celebrate two ancient 
heroic deeds of ,athens1 on which the   
panegyrists1 amongst the rest           
,isocrates1 who always mixed up the     
fabulous with the historical1 lay       
astonishing stress3 the protection they 
are said to have afforded to the        
children of ,hercules1 the ancestors of 
the ,lacedaemonian kings1 from the      
persecution of ,eurystheus1 and their   
going to war with ,thebes on behalf of  
,adrastus1 king of ,argos1 and forcing  
the ,thebans to give the rites of burial
 to the ,seven ,chieftains and their    
host4 ,the ,supplices was1 as we know1  
represented during the ,peloponnesian   

war1 after the conclusion of a treaty   
between the ,argives and the            
,lacedaemonians2 and was intended to    
remind the ,argives of their ancient    
obligation to ,athens1 and to show how  
little they could hope to prosper in the
 war against the ,athenians4 ,the       
,heraclidae was undoubtedly written with
 a similar view in respect to           
,lacedaemon4 ,of the two pieces1        
however1 which are both cast in the same
 mould1 the ,female ,suppliants1 so     
called from the mothers of the fallen   
heroes1 is by far the richest in        
poetical merit2 the ,heraclidae appears1
 as it were1 but a faint impression of  
the other4 ,in the former piece1 it is  
true1 ,theseus appears at first in a    
somewhat unamiable light1 upbraiding1 as
 he does1 the unfortunate ,adrastus with
 his errors at such great length1 and   
perhaps with so little justice1 before  
he condescends to assist him2 again the 
disputation between ,theseus and the    
,argive herald1 as to the superiority of

 a monarchical or a democratical        
constitution1 ought in justice to be    
banished from the stage to the          
rhetorical schools2 while the moral     
eulogium of ,adrastus over the fallen   
heroes is1 at least1 very much out of   
place4 ,i am convinced that ,euripides  
was here drawing the characters of      
particular ,athenian generals1 who had  
fallen in some battle or other4 ,but    
even in this case the passage cannot be 
justified in a dramatic point of view2  
however1 without such an object1 it     
would have been silly and ridiculous in 
describing those heroes of the age of   
,hercules1 7a ,capaneus1 for instance1  
who set even heaven itself at defiance17
 to have launched out into the praise of
 their civic virtues4 ,how apt          
,euripides was to wander from his       
subject in allusions to perfectly       
extraneous matters1 and sometimes even  
to himself1 we may see from a speech of 
,adrastus1 who most impertinently is    
made to say1 ,it is not fair that the   

poet1 while he delights others with his 
works1 should himself suffer            
inconvenience4 ,however1 the funeral    
lamentations and the swan-like song of  
,evadne are affectingly beautiful1      
although she is so unexpectedly         
introduced into the drama4 ,literally1  
indeed1 may we say of her1 that she     
jumps into the play1 for without even   
being mentioned before she suddenly     
appears first of all on the rock1 from  
which she throws herself on the burning 
pile of ,capaneus4  ,the ,heraclidae is 
a very poor piece2 its conclusion is    
singularly bald4 ,we hear nothing more  
of the self-sacrifice of ,macaria1 after
 it is over3 as the determination seems 
to have cost herself no struggle1 it    
makes as little impression upon others4 
,the ,athenian king1 ,demophon1 does not
 return again2 neither does ,iolaus1 the
 companion of ,hercules and guardian of 
his children1 whose youth is so         
wonderfully renewed4 ,hyllus1 the       
noble-minded ,heraclide1 never even     

makes his appearance2 and nobody at last
 remains but ,alcmene1 who keeps up a   
bitter altercation with ,eurystheus4    
,euripides seems to have taken a        
particular pleasure in drawing such     
implacable and rancorous old women3     
twice has he exhibited ,hecuba in this  
light1 pitting her against ,helen and   
,polymestor4 ,in general1 we may observe
 the constant recurrence of the same    
artifice and motives is a sure symptom  
of mannerism4 ,we have in the works of  
this poet three instances of women      
offered in sacrifice1 which are moving  
from their perfect resignation3         
,iphigenia1 ,polyxena1 and ,macaria2 the
 voluntary deaths of ,alceste and       
,evadne belong in some sort also to this
 class4 ,suppliants are in like manner a
 favourite subject with him1 because    
they oppress the spectator with         
apprehension lest they should be torn by
 force from the sanctuary of the altar4 
,i have already noticed his lavish      
introduction of deities towards the     

conclusion4  ,the merriest of all       
tragedies is ,helen1 a marvellous drama1
 full of wonderful adventures and       
appearances1 which are evidently better 
suited to comedy4 ,the invention on     
which it is founded is1 that ,helen     
remained concealed in ,egypt 7so far    
went the assertion of the ,aegyptian    
priests71 while ,paris carried off an   
airy phantom in her likeness1 for which 
the ,greeks and ,trojans fought for ten 
long years4 ,by this contrivance the    
virtue of the heroine is saved1 and     
,menelaus1 7to make good the ridicule of
 ,aristophanes on the beggary of        
,euripides' heroes17 appears in rags as 
a beggar1 and in nowise dissatisfied    
with his condition4 ,but this manner of 
improving mythology bears a resemblance 
to the ,tales of the ,thousand and ,one 
,nights4  ,modern philologists have     
dedicated voluminous treatises1 to prove
 the spuriousness of ,rhesus1 the       
subject of which is taken from the      
eleventh book of the ,iliad4 ,their     

opinion is1 that the piece contains such
 a number of improbabilities and        
contradictions1 that it is altogether   
unworthy of ,euripides4 ,but this is by 
no means a legitimate conclusion4 ,do   
not the faults which they censure       
unavoidably follow from the selection of
 an intractable subject1 so very        
inconvenient as a nightly enterprise8   
,the question respecting the genuineness
 of any work1 turns not so much on its  
merits or demerits1 as rather on the    
resemblance of its style and            
peculiarities to those of the pretended 
author4 ,the few words of the ,scholiast
 amount to a very different opinion3    
,some have considered this drama to be  
spurious1 and not the work of           
,euripides1 because it bears many traces
 of the style of ,sophocles4 ,but it is 
inscribed in the ,didascaliae as his1   
and its accuracy with respect to the    
phenomena of the starry heaven betrays  
the hand of ,euripides4 ,i think ,i     
understand what is here meant by the    

style of ,sophocles1 but it is rather in
 detached scenes1 than in the general   
plan1 that ,i at all discern it4 ,hence1
 if the piece is to be taken from       
,euripides1 ,i should be disposed to    
attribute it to some eclectic imitator1 
but one of the school of ,sophocles     
rather than of that of ,euripides1 and  
who lived only a little later than both4
 ,this ,i infer from the familiarity of 
many of the scenes1 for tragedy at this 
time was fast sinking into the domestic 
tragedy1 whereas1 at a still later      
period1 the ,alexandrian age1 it fell   
into an opposite error of bombast4  ,the
 ,cyclops is a satiric drama4 ,this is a
 mixed and lower species of tragic      
poetry1 as we have already in passing   
asserted4 ,the want of some relaxation  
for the mind1 after the engrossing      
severity of tragedy1 appears to have    
given rise to the satiric drama1 as     
indeed to the after-piece in general4   
,the satiric drama never possessed an   
independent existence2 it was thrown in 

by way of an appendage to several       
tragedies1 and to judge from that we    
know of it1 was always considerably     
shorter than the others4 ,in external   
form it resembled ,tragedy1 and the     
materials were in like manner           
mythological4 ,the distinctive mark was 
a chorus consisting of satyrs1 who      
accompanied with lively songs1 gestures1
 and movements1 such heroic adventures  
as were of a more cheerful hue1 7many in
 the ,odyssey for instance2 for here1   
also1 as in many other respects1 the    
germ is to be found in ,homer17 or1 at  
least1 could be made to wear such an    
appearance4 ,the proximate cause of this
 species of drama was derived from the  
festivals of ,bacchus1 where satyr-masks
 was a common disguise4 ,in mythological
 stories with which ,bacchus had no     
concern1 these constant attendants of   
his were1 no doubt1 in some sort        
arbitrarily introduced1 but still not   
without a degree of propriety4 ,as      
nature1 in her original freedom1        

appeared to the fancy of the ,greeks to 
teem everywhere with wonderful          
productions1 they could with propriety  
people with these sylvan beings the wild
 landscapes1 remote from polished       
cities1 where the scene was usually     
laid1 and enliven them with their wild  
animal frolics4 ,the composition of     
demi-god with demi-beast formed an      
amusing contrast4 ,we have an example in
 the ,cyclops of the manner in which the
 poets proceeded in such subjects4 ,it  
is not unentertaining1 though the       
subject- matter is for the most part    
contained in the ,odyssey2 only the     
pranks of ,silenus and his band are     
occasionally a little coarse4 ,we must  
confess that1 in our eyes1 the great    
merit of this piece is its rarity1 being
 the only extant specimen of its class  
which we possess4 ,in the satiric dramas
 ,aeschylus must1 without doubt1 have   
displayed more boldness and meaning in  
his mirth2 as1 for instance1 when he    
introduced ,prometheus bringing down    

fire from heaven to rude and stupid man2
 while ,sophocles1 to judge from the few
 fragments we have1 must have been more 
elegant and moral1 as when he introduced
 the goddesses contending for the prize 
of beauty1 or ,nausicaa offering        
protection to the shipwrecked ,ulysses4 
,it is a striking feature of the easy   
unconstrained character of life among   
the ,greeks1 of its gladsome joyousness 
of disposition1 which knew nothing of a 
starched and stately dignity1 but       
artist-like admired aptness and         
gracefulness1 even in the most          
insignificant trifles1 that in this     
drama called ,nausicaa1 or ,the         
,washerwomen1 in which1 after ,homer1   
the princess at the end of the washing1 
amuses herself at a game of ball with   
her maids1 ,sophocles himself played at 
ball1 and by his grace in this exercise 
acquired much applause4 ,the great poet1
 the respected ,athenian citizen1 the   
man who had already perhaps been a      
,general1 appeared publicly in woman's  

clothes1 and as1 on account of the      
feebleness of his voice1 he could not   
play the leading part of ,nausicaa1 took
 perhaps the mute under part of a maid1 
for the sake of giving to the           
representation of his piece the slight  
ornament of bodily agility4  ,the       
history of ancient tragedy ends with    
,euripides1 although there were a number
 of still later tragedians2 ,agathon1   
for instance1 whom ,aristophanes        
describes as fragrant with ointment and 
crowned with flowers1 and in whose mouth
 ,plato1 in his ,symposium1 puts a      
discourse in the taste of the sophist   
,gorgias1 full of the most exquisite    
ornaments and empty tautological        
antitheses4 ,he was the first to abandon
 mythology1 as furnishing the natural   
materials of tragedy1 and occasionally  
wrote pieces with purely fictitious     
names1 7this is worthy of notice1 as    
forming a transition towards the new    
comedy17 one of which was called the    
,flower1 and was probably therefore     

neither seriously affecting nor         
terrible1 but in the style of the idyl1 
and pleasing4  ,the ,alexandrian        
scholars1 among their other             
lucubrations1 attempted also the        
composition of tragedies2 but if we are 
to judge of them from the only piece    
which has come down to us1 the          
,alexandra of ,lycophron1 which consists
 of an endless monologue1 full of       
prophecy1 and overladen with obscure    
mythology1 these productions of a subtle
 dilettantism must have been extremely  
inanimate and untheatrical1 and every   
way devoid of interest4 ,the creative   
powers of the ,greeks were1 in this     
department1 so completely exhausted1    
that they were forced to content        
themselves with the repetition of the   
works of their ancient masters4         
,,lecture ,,xi4  ,the ,old ,comedy      
proved to be completely a contrast to   
,tragedy--,parody-- ,ideality of ,comedy
 the reverse of that of                 
,tragedy--,mirthful ,caprice--          

,allegoric and ,political               
,signification--,the ,chorus and its    
,parabases4   ,we now leave ,tragic     
,poetry to occupy ourselves with an     
entirely opposite species1 the ,old     
,comedy4 ,striking as this diversity is1
 we shall1 however1 commence with       
pointing out a certain symmetry in the  
contrast and certain relations between  
them1 which have a tendency to exhibit  
the essential character of both in a    
clearer light4  ,in forming a judgment  
of the ,old ,comedy1 we must banish     
every idea of what is called ,comedy by 
the moderns1 and what went by the same  
name among the ,greeks themselves at a  
later period4  ,these two species of    
,comedy differ from each other1 not only
 in accidental peculiarities1 7such as  
the introduction in the old of real     
names and characters17 but essentially  
and diametrically4 ,we must also guard  
against entertaining such a notion of   
the ,old ,comedy as would lead us to    
regard it as the rude beginnings of the 

more finished and cultivated comedy of a
 subsequent age ,footnote3 ,this is the 
purport of the section of ,barthlemy in 
the ,anacharsis on the ,old ,comedy3 one
 of the poorest and most erroneous parts
 of his work4 ,with the pitiful         
presumption of ignorance1 ,voltaire     
pronounced a sweeping condemnation of   
,aristophanes1 7in other places1 and in 
his ,philosophical ,dictionary under    
,art4 ,athe71 and the modern ,french    
critics have for the most part followed 
his example4 ,we may1 however1 find the 
foundation of all the erroneous opinions
 of the moderns on this subject1 and the
 same prosaical mode of viewing it1 in  
,plutarch's parallel between            
,aristophanes and ,menander41 an idea   
which many1 from the unbridled          
licentiousness of the old comic writers1
 have been led to entertain4 ,on the    
contrary the former is the genuine      
poetic species2 but the ,new ,comedy1 as
 ,i shall show in due course1 is its    
decline into prose and reality4  ,we    

shall form the best idea of the ,old    
,comedy1 by considering it as the direct
 opposite of ,tragedy4 ,this was        
probably the meaning of the assertion of
 ,socrates1 which is given by ,plato    
towards the end of his ,symposium4 ,he  
tells us that1 after the other guests   
were dispersed or had fallen asleep1    
,socrates was left awake with           
,aristophanes and ,agathon1 and that    
while he drank with them out of a large 
cup1 he forced them to confess1 however 
unwillingly1 that it is the business of 
one and the same man to be equally      
master of tragic and comic composition1 
and that the tragic poet is1 in virtue  
of his art1 comic poet also4 ,this was  
not only repugnant to the general       
opinion1 which wholly separated the two 
kinds of talent1 but also to all        
experience1 inasmuch as no tragic poet  
had ever attempted to shine in ,comedy1 
nor conversely2 his remark1 therefore1  
can only have been meant to apply to the
 inmost essence of the things4 ,thus at 

another time1 the ,platonic ,socrates   
says1 on the subject of comic imitation3
 ,all opposites can be fully understood 
only by and through each other2         
consequently we can only know what is   
serious by knowing also what is         
laughable and ludicrous4 ,if the divine 
,plato by working out that dialogue had 
been pleased to communicate his own1 or 
his master's thoughts1 respecting these 
two kinds of poetry1 we should have been
 spared the necessity of the following  
investigation4  ,one aspect of the      
relation of comic to tragic poetry may  
be comprehended under the idea of       
parody4 ,this parody1 however1 is one   
infinitely more powerful than that of   
the mock heroic poem1 as the subject    
parodied1 by means of scenic            
representation1 acquired quite another  
kind of reality and presence in the     
mind1 from what the pope did1 which     
relating the transactions of a distant  
age1 retired1 as it were1 with them into
 the remote olden time4 ,the comic      

parody was brought out when the thing   
parodied was fresh in recollection1 and 
as the representation took place on the 
same stage where the spectators were    
accustomed to see its serious original1 
this circumstance must have greatly     
contributed to heighten the effect of   
it4 ,moreover1 not merely single scenes1
 but the very form of tragic composition
 was parodied1 and doubtless the parody 
extended not only to the poetry1 but    
also to the music and dancing1 to the   
acting itself1 and the scenic           
decoration4 ,nay1 even where the drama  
trod in the footsteps of the plastic    
arts1 it was still the subject of comic 
parody1 as the ideal figures of deities 
were evidently transformed into         
caricatures ,footnote3 ,as an example of
 this1 ,i may allude to the well- known 
vase-figures1 where ,mercury and        
,jupiter1 about to ascend by a ladder   
into ,alcmene's chamber1 are represented
 as comic masks44 ,now the more         
immediately the productions of all these

 arts fall within the observance of the 
external senses1 and1 above1 all the    
more the ,greeks1 in their popular      
festivals1 religious ceremonies1 and    
solemn processions1 were accustomed to1 
and familiar with1 the noble style which
 was the native element of tragic       
representation1 so much the more        
irresistibly ludicrous must have been   
the effect of that general parody of the
 arts1 which it was the object of       
,comedy to exhibit4  ,but this idea does
 not exhaust the essential character of 
,comedy2 for parody always supposes a   
reference to the subject which is       
parodied1 and a necessary dependence on 
it4 ,the ,old ,comedy1 however1 as a    
species of poetry1 is as independent and
 original as ,tragedy itself2 it stands 
on the same elevation with it1 that is1 
it extends just as far beyond the limits
 of reality into the domains of free    
creative fancy4  ,tragedy is the highest
 earnestness of poetry2 ,comedy         
altogether sportive4 ,now earnestness1  

as ,i observed in the ,introduction1    
consists in the direction of the mental 
powers to an aim or purpose1 and the    
limitation of their activity to that    
object4 ,its opposite1 therefore1       
consists in the apparent want of aim1   
and freedom from all restraint in the   
exercise of the mental powers2 and it is
 therefore the more perfect1 the more   
unreservedly it goes to work1 and the   
more lively the appearance there is of  
purposeless fun and unrestrained        
caprice4 ,wit and raillery may be       
employed in a sportive manner1 but they 
are also both of them compatible with   
the severest earnestness1 as is proved  
by the example of the later ,roman      
satires and the ancient ,iambic poetry  
of the ,greeks1 where these means were  
employed for the expression of          
indignation and hatred4  ,the ,new      
,comedy1 it is true1 represents what is 
amusing in character1 and in the        
contrast of situations and combinations2
 and it is the more comic the more it is

 distinguished by a want of aim3 cross  
purposes1 mistakes1 the vain efforts of 
ridiculous passion1 and especially if   
all this ends at last in nothing2 but   
still1 with all this mirth1 the form of 
the representation itself is serious1   
and regularly tied down to a certain    
aim4 ,in the ,old ,comedy the form was  
sportive1 and a seeming aimlessness     
reigned throughout2 the whole poem was  
one big jest1 which again contained     
within itself a world of separate jests1
 of which each occupied its own place1  
without appearing to trouble itself     
about the rest4 ,in tragedy1 if ,i may  
be allowed to make my meaning plain by a
 comparison1 the monarchical            
constitution prevails1 but a monarchy   
without despotism1 such as it was in the
 heroic times of the ,greeks3 everything
 yields a willing obedience to the      
dignity of the heroic sceptre4 ,comedy1 
on the other hand1 is the democracy of  
poetry1 and is more inclined even to the
 confusion of anarchy than to any       

circumscription of the general liberty  
of its mental powers and purposes1 and  
even of its separate thoughts1 sallies1 
and allusions4  ,whatever is dignified1 
noble1 and grand in human nature1 admits
 only of a serious and earnest          
representation2 for whoever attempts to 
represent it1 feels himself1 as it were1
 in the presence of a superior being1   
and is consequently awed and restrained 
by it4 ,the comic poet1 therefore1 must 
divest his characters of all such       
qualities2 he must place himself without
 the sphere of them2 nay1 even deny     
altogether their existence1 and form an 
ideal of human nature the direct        
opposite of that of the tragedians1     
namely1 as the odious and base4 ,but as 
the tragic ideal is not a collective    
model of all possible virtues1 so       
neither does this converse ideality     
consist in an aggregation1 nowhere to be
 found in real life1 of all moral       
enormities and marks of degeneracy1 but 
rather in a dependence on the animal    

part of human nature1 in that want of   
freedom and independence1 that want of  
coherence1 those inconsistencies of the 
inward man1 in which all folly and      
infatuation originate4  ,the earnest    
ideal consists of the unity and         
harmonious blending of the sensual man  
with the mental1 such as may be most    
clearly recognised in ,sculpture1 where 
the perfection of form is merely a      
symbol of mental perfection and the     
loftiest moral ideas1 and where the body
 is wholly pervaded by soul1 and        
spiritualized even to a glorious        
transfiguration4 ,the merry or ludicrous
 ideal1 on the other hand1 consists in  
the perfect harmony and unison of the   
higher part of our nature with the      
animal as the ruling principle4 ,reason 
and understanding are represented as the
 voluntary slaves of the senses4  ,hence
 we shall find that the very principle  
of ,comedy necessarily occasioned that  
which in ,aristophanes has given so much
 offence2 namely1 his frequent allusions

 to the base necessities of the body1   
the wanton pictures of animal desire1   
which1 in spite of all the restraints   
imposed on it by morality and decency1  
is always breaking loose before one can 
be aware of it4 ,if we reflect a moment1
 we shall find that even in the present 
day1 on our own stage1 the infallible   
and inexhaustible source of the         
ludicrous is the same ungovernable      
impulses of sensuality in collision with
 higher duties2 or cowardice1 childish  
vanity1 loquacity1 gulosity1 laziness1  
c4 ,hence1 in the weakness of old age1  
amorousness is the more laughable1 as it
 is plain that it is not mere animal    
instinct1 but that reason has only      
served to extend the dominion of the    
senses beyond their proper limits4 ,in  
drunkenness1 too1 the real man places   
himself1 in some degree1 in the         
condition of the comic ideal4  ,the fact
 that the ,old ,comedy introduced living
 characters on the stage1 by name and   
with all circumstantiality1 must not    

mislead us to infer that they actually  
did represent certain definite          
individuals4 ,for such historical       
characters in the ,old ,comedy have     
always an allegorical signification1 and
 represent a class2 and as their        
features were caricatures in the masks1 
so1 in like manner1 were their          
characters in the representation4 ,but  
still this constant allusion to a       
proximate reality1 which not only       
allowed the poet1 in the character of   
the chorus1 to converse with the public 
in a general way1 but also to point the 
finger at certain individual spectators1
 was essential to this species of       
poetry4 ,as ,tragedy delights in        
harmonious unity1 ,comedy flourishes in 
a chaotic exuberance2 it seeks out the  
most motley contrasts1 and the unceasing
 play of cross purposes4 ,it works up1  
therefore1 the most singular1           
unheard-of1 and even impossible         
incidents1 with allusions to the        
well-known and special circumstances of 

the immediate locality and time4  ,the  
comic poet1 as well as the tragic1      
transports his characters into an ideal 
element3 not1 however1 into a world     
subjected to necessity1 but one where   
the caprice of inventive wit rules      
without check or restraint1 and where   
all the laws of reality are suspended4  
,he is at liberty1 therefore1 to invent 
an action as arbitrary and fantastic as 
possible2 it may even be unconnected and
 unreal1 if only it be calculated to    
place a circle of comic incidents and   
characters in the most glaring light4   
,in this last respect1 the work should1 
nay1 must1 have a leading aim1 or it    
will otherwise be in want of keeping2   
and in this view also the comedies of   
,aristophanes may be considered as      
perfectly systematical4 ,but then1 to   
preserve the comic inspiration1 this aim
 must be made a matter of diversion1 and
 be concealed beneath a medley of all   
sorts of out-of-the- way matters4       
,comedy at its first commencement1      

namely1 under the hands of its ,doric   
founder1 ,epicharmus1 borrowed its      
materials chiefly from the mythical     
world4 ,even in its maturity1 to judge  
from the titles of many lost plays of   
,aristophanes and his contemporaries1 it
 does not seem to have renounced this   
choice altogether1 as at a later period1
 in the interval between the old and new
 comedy1 it returned1 for particular    
reasons1 with a natural predilection to 
mythology4 ,but as the contrast between 
the matter and form is here in its      
proper place1 and nothing can be more   
thoroughly opposite to the ludicrous    
form of exhibition than the most        
important and serious concerns of men1  
public life and the state naturally     
became the peculiar subject-matter of   
the ,old ,comedy4 ,it is1 therefore1    
altogether political2 and private and   
family life1 beyond which the new never 
soars1 was only introduced occasionally 
and indirectly1 in so far as it might   
have a reference to public life4 ,the   

,chorus is therefore essential to it1 as
 being in some sort a representation of 
the public3 it must by no means be      
considered as a mere accidental         
property1 to be accounted for by the    
local origin of the ,old ,comedy2 we may
 assign its existence to a more         
substantial reason--its necessity for a 
complete parody of the tragic form4 ,it 
contributes also to the expression of   
that festal gladness of which ,comedy   
was the most unrestrained effusion1 for 
in all the national and religious       
festivals of the ,greeks1 choral songs1 
accompanied by dancing1 were performed4 
,the comic chorus transforms itself     
occasionally into such an expression of 
public joy1 as1 for instance1 when the  
women who celebrate the ,thesmophoriae  
in the piece that bears that name1 in   
the midst of the most amusing           
drolleries1 begin to chant their        
melodious hymn1 just as in a real       
festival1 in honour of the presiding    
gods4 ,at these times we meet with such 

a display of sublime lyric poetry1 that 
the passages may be transplanted into   
tragedy without any change or alteration
 whatever4 ,there is1 however1 this     
deviation from the tragic model1 that   
there are frequently1 in the same       
comedy1 several choruses which sometimes
 are present together1 singing in       
response1 or at other times come on     
alternately and drop off1 without the   
least general reference to each other4  
,the most remarkable peculiarity1       
however1 of the comic chorus is the     
,parabasis1 an address to the spectators
 by the chorus1 in the name1 and as the 
representative of the poet1 but having  
no connexion with the subject of the    
piece4 ,sometimes he enlarges on his own
 merits1 and ridicules the pretensions  
of his rivals2 at other times1 availing 
himself of his right as an ,athenian    
citizen1 to speak on public affairs in  
every assembly of the people1 he brings 
forward serious or ludicrous motions for
 the common good4 ,the ,parabasis must1 

strictly speaking1 be considered as     
incongruous with the essence of dramatic
 representation2 for in the drama the   
poet should always be behind his        
dramatic personages1 who again ought to 
speak and act as if they were alone1 and
 to take no perceptible notice of the   
spectators4 ,such intermixtures1        
therefore1 destroy all tragic           
impression1 but to the comic tone these 
intentional interruptions or intermezzos
 are welcome1 even though they be in    
themselves more serious than the subject
 of the representation1 because we are  
at such times unwilling to submit to the
 constraint of a mental occupation which
 must perforce be kept up1 for then it  
would assume the appearance of a task or
 obligation4 ,the ,parabasis may partly 
have owed its invention to the          
circumstance of the comic poets not     
having such ample materials as the      
tragic1 for filling up the intervals of 
the action when the stage was empty1 by 
sympathising and enthusiastic odes4 ,but

 it is1 moreover1 consistent with the   
essence of the ,old ,comedy1 where not  
merely the subject1 but the whole manner
 of treating it was sportive and        
jocular4 ,the unlimited dominion of     
mirth and fun manifests itself even in  
this1 that the dramatic form itself is  
not seriously adhered to1 and that its  
laws are often suspended2 just as in a  
droll disguise the masquerader sometimes
 ventures to lay aside the mask4 ,the   
practice of throwing out allusions and  
hints to the pit is retained even in the
 comedy of the present day1 and is often
 found to be attended with great        
success2 although unconditionally       
reprobated by many critics4 ,i shall    
afterwards examine how far1 and in what 
departments of comedy1 these allusions  
are admissible4  ,to sum up in a few    
words the aim and object of ,tragedy and
 ,comedy1 we may observe1 that as       
,tragedy1 by painful emotions1 elevates 
us to the most dignified views of       
humanity1 being1 in the words of ,plato1

 the imitation of the most beautiful and
 most excellent life2 ,comedy1 on the   
other hand1 by its jocose and           
depreciatory view of all things1 calls  
forth the most petulant hilarity4       
,,lecture ,,xii4  ,aristophanes--,his   
,character as an ,artist--,description  
and ,character of his remaining         
,works--,a ,scene1 translated from the  
,acharnae1 by way of ,appendix4   ,of   
the ,old ,comedy but one writer has come
 down to us1 and we cannot1 therefore1  
in forming an estimate of his merits1   
enforce it by a comparison with other   
masters4 ,aristophanes had many         
predecessors1 ,magnes1 ,cratinus1       
,crates1 and others2 he was indeed one  
of the latest of this school1 for he    
outlived the ,old ,comedy4 ,we have no  
reason1 however1 to believe that we     
witness in him its decline1 as we do    
that of ,tragedy in the case of the last
 tragedian2 in all probability the ,old 
,comedy was still rising in perfection1 
and he himself one of its most finished 

authors4 ,it was very different with the
 ,old ,comedy and with ,tragedy2 the    
latter died a natural1 and the former a 
violent death4 ,tragedy ceased to exist1
 because that species of poetry seemed  
to be exhausted1 because it was         
abandoned1 and because no one was now   
able to rise to the pitch of its        
elevation4 ,comedy was deprived by the  
hand of power of that unrestrained      
freedom which was necessary to its      
existence4 ,horace1 in a few words1     
informs us of this catastrophe3 ,after  
these 7,thespis and ,aeschylus7 followed
 the ,old ,comedy1 not without great    
merit2 but its freedom degenerated into 
licentiousness1 and into a violence     
which deserved to be checked by law4    
,the law was enacted1 and the ,chorus   
sunk into disgraceful silence as soon as
 it was deprived of the right to injure4
 ,footnote3   ,successit vetus his      
comedia1 non sine mult   ,laude1 sed in 
vitium libertas excidit1 et vim         
,dignam lege regi3 lex est accepta3     

chorusque   ,turpiter obticuit1 sublato 
jure nocendi4 ,towards the end of the   
,peloponnesian war1 when a few          
individuals1 in violation of the        
constitution1 had assumed the supreme   
authority in ,athens1 a law was enacted1
 giving every person attacked by comic  
poets a remedy by law4 ,moreover1 the   
introduction of real persons on the     
stage1 or the use of such masks as bore 
a resemblance to their features1 c41 was
 prohibited4 ,this gave rise to what is 
called the ,middle ,comedy4 ,the form   
still continued much the same2 and the  
representation1 if not perfectly        
allegorical1 was nevertheless a parody4 
,but the essence was taken away1 and    
this species must have become insipid   
when it could no longer be seasoned by  
the salt of personal ridicule4 ,its     
whole attraction consisted in idealizing
 jocularly the reality that came nearest
 home to every one of the spectators1   
that is1 in representing it under the   
light of the most preposterous          

perversity2 and how was it possible now 
to lash even the general mismanagement  
of the state-affairs1 if no offence was 
to be given to individuals8 ,i cannot1  
therefore1 agree with ,horace in his    
opinion that the abuse gave rise to the 
restriction4 ,the ,old ,comedy          
flourished together with ,athenian      
liberty2 and both were oppressed under  
the same circumstances1 and by the same 
persons4 ,so far were the calumnies of  
,aristophanes from having been the      
occasion of the death of ,socrates1 as1 
without a knowledge of history1 many    
persons have thought proper to assert   
7for the ,clouds were composed a great  
number of years before71 that it was the
 very same revolutionary despotism that 
reduced to silence alike the sportive   
censure of ,aristophanes1 and also      
punished with death the graver          
animadversions of the incorruptible     
,socrates4 ,neither do we see that the  
persecuting jokes of ,aristophanes were 
in any way detrimental to ,euripides3   

the free people of ,athens beheld alike 
with admiration the tragedies of the    
one1 and their parody by the other1     
represented on the same stage2 they     
allowed every variety of talent to      
flourish undisturbed in the enjoyment of
 equal rights4 ,never did a sovereign1  
for such was the ,athenian people1      
listen more good-humouredly to the most 
unwelcome truths1 and even allow itself 
to be openly laughed at4 ,and even if   
the abuses in the public administration 
were not by these means corrected1 still
 it was a grand point that this         
unsparing exposure of them was          
tolerated4 ,besides1 ,aristophanes      
always shows himself a zealous patriot2 
the powerful demagogues whom he attacks 
are the same persons that the grave     
,thucydides describes as so pernicious4 
,in the midst of civil war1 which       
destroyed for ever the prosperity of    
,greece1 he was ever counselling peace1 
and everywhere recommended the          
simplicity and austerity of the ancient 

manners4 ,so much for the political     
import of the ,old ,comedy4  ,but       
,aristophanes1 ,i hear it said1 was an  
immoral buffoon4 ,yes1 among other      
things1 he was that also2 and we are by 
no means disposed to justify the man    
who1 with such great talents1 could yet 
sink so very low1 whether it was to     
gratify his own coarse propensities1 or 
from a supposed necessity of winning the
 favour of the populace1 that he might  
be able to tell them bold and unpleasant
 truths4 ,we know at least that he      
boasts of having been much more sparing 
than his rivals in the use of obscene   
jests1 to gain the laughter of the mob1 
and of having1 in this respect1 carried 
his art to perfection4 ,not to be unjust
 towards him1 we must judge of all that 
appears so repulsive to us1 not by      
modern ideas1 but by the opinions of his
 own age and nation4 ,on certain        
subjects the morals of the ancients were
 very different from ours1 and of a much
 freer character4 ,this arose from the  

very nature of their religion1 which was
 a real worship of ,nature1 and had     
sanctioned many public customs grossly  
injurious to decency4 ,besides1 from the
 very retired manner in which the women 
lived1 ,footnote3 ,this brings us to the
 consideration of the question so much  
agitated by antiquaries1 whether the    
,grecian women were present at the      
representation of plays in general1 and 
more especially of comedies4 ,with      
respect to tragedy1 ,i think the        
question must be answered in the        
affirmative1 since the story about the  
,eumenides of ,aeschylus could not have 
been invented with any degree of        
propriety1 had women never visited the  
theatre4 ,moreover1 there is a passage  
in ,plato 7,de ,leg41 lib4 ii4 p4 #feh1 
,d471 in which he mentions the          
predilection educated women evince for  
tragical composition4 ,lastly1 ,julius  
,pollux1 among the technical expressions
 belonging to the theatre1 mentions the 
,greek word for a spectatress4 ,but in  

the case of the old comedy1 ,i should be
 inclined to think that they were not   
present4 ,however1 its indecency alone  
does not appear to be a decisive proof4 
,even in the religious festivals the    
eyes of the women must have been exposed
 to sights of gross indecency4 ,but in  
the numerous addresses of ,aristophanes 
to the spectators1 even where he        
distinguishes them according to their   
respective ages and otherwise1 we never 
observe any mention of spectatresses1   
and the poet would hardly have omitted  
the opportunity which this afforded him 
for some witticism or joke4 ,the only   
passage with which ,i am acquainted1    
whence any conclusion may be drawn in   
favour of the presence of women1 is     
,pax1 v4 #ifc-ifg4 ,but still it remains
 doubtful1 and ,i recommend it to the   
consideration of the critic4--,,author41
 while the men were almost constantly   
together1 the language of conversation  
contracted a certain coarseness1 as is  
always the case under similar           

circumstances4 ,in modern ,europe1 since
 the origin of chivalry1 women have     
given the tone to social life1 and to   
the respectful homage which we yield to 
them1 we owe the prevalence of a nobler 
morality in conversation1 in the fine   
arts1 and in poetry4 ,besides1 the      
ancient comic writers1 who took the     
world as they found it1 had before their
 eyes a very great degree of corruption 
of morals4  ,the most honourable        
testimony in favour of ,aristophanes is 
that of the sage ,plato1 who in an      
epigram says1 that the ,graces chose his
 soul for their abode1 who was          
constantly reading him1 and transmitted 
the ,clouds1 7this very play1 in which1 
with the meshes of the sophists1        
philosophy itself1 and even his master  
,socrates1 was attacked71 to ,dionysius 
the elder1 with the remark1 that from it
 he would be best able to understand the
 state of things at ,athens4 ,he could  
hardly mean merely that the play was a  
proof of the unbridled democratic       

freedom which prevailed in ,athens2 but 
must have intended it as an             
acknowledgment of the poet's profound   
knowledge of the world1 and his insight 
into the whole machinery of the civil   
constitution4 ,plato has also admirably 
characterised him in his ,symposium1    
where he puts into his mouth a speech on
 love1 which ,aristophanes1 far from    
every thing like high enthusiasm1       
considers merely in a sensual view4 ,his
 description of it is1 however1 equally 
bold and ingenious4  ,we might apply to 
the pieces of ,aristophanes the motto of
 a pleasant and acute adventurer in     
,goethe3 ,mad1 but clever4 ,in them we  
are best enabled to conceive why the    
,dramatic ,art in general was           
consecrated to ,bacchus3 it is the      
intoxication of poetry1 the ,bacchanalia
 of fun4 ,this faculty will at times    
assert its rights as well as others2 and
 hence several nations have set apart   
certain festivals1 such as ,saturnalia1 
,carnivals1 c41 in which the people may 

give themselves altogether up to        
frolicsome follies1 that when once the  
fit is over1 they may for the rest of   
the year remain quiet1 and apply        
themselves to serious business4 ,the    
,old ,comedy is a general masquerade of 
the world1 during which much passes that
 is not authorised by the ordinary rules
 of propriety2 but during which much    
also that is diverting1 witty1 and even 
instructive1 is manifested1 which would 
never be heard of without this momentary
 breaking up of the barricades of       
precision4  ,however vulgar and even    
corrupt ,aristophanes may have been in  
his own personal propensities1 and      
however offensive his jokes are to good 
manners and good taste1 we cannot deny  
to him1 both in the general plan and    
execution of his poems1 the praise of   
carefulness1 and the masterly skill of a
 finished artist4 ,his language is      
extremely polished1 the purest ,atticism
 reigns in it throughout1 and with the  
greatest dexterity he adapts it to every

 tone1 from the most familiar dialogue  
up to the high elevation of the         
,dithyrambic ode4 ,we cannot doubt that 
he would have been eminently successful 
in grave poetry1 when we see how at     
times with capricious wantonness he     
lavishes it only to destroy at the next 
moment the impression he has made4 ,the 
elegant choice of the language becomes  
only the more attractive from the       
contrast in which it is occasionally    
displayed by him2 for he not only       
indulges at times in the rudest         
expressions of the people1 the different
 dialects1 and even in the broken ,greek
 of barbarians1 but he extends the same 
arbitrary power which he exercised over 
nature and human affairs1 to language   
itself1 and by composition1 allusion to 
names of persons1 or imitation of       
particular sounds1 coins the strangest  
words imaginable4 ,the structure of his 
versification is not less artificial    
than that of the tragedians2 he uses the
 same forms1 but differently modified3  

his object is ease and variety1 instead 
of gravity and dignity2 but amidst all  
this apparent irregularity1 he still    
adheres with great accuracy to the laws 
of metrical composition4 ,as            
,aristophanes1 in the exercise of his   
separate but infinitely varied and      
versatile art1 appears to me to have    
displayed the richest development of    
almost every poetical talent1 so also   
whenever ,i read his works ,i am no less
 astonished at the extraordinary        
capacity of his hearers1 which the very 
nature of them presupposes4 ,we might1  
indeed1 expect from the citizens of a   
popular government an intimate          
acquaintance with the history and       
constitution of their country1 with     
public events and transactions1 with the
 personal circumstance of all their     
contemporaries of any note or           
consequence4 ,but besides all this1     
,aristophanes required of his auditory a
 cultivated poetical taste2 to          
understand his parodies1 they must have 

almost every word of the tragical       
master-pieces by heart4 ,and what       
quickness of perception was requisite to
 catch1 in passing the lightest and most
 covert irony1 the most unexpected      
sallies and strangest allusions1 which  
are frequently denoted by the mere      
twisting of a syllable6 ,we may boldly  
affirm1 that notwithstanding all the    
explanations which have come down to    
us--notwithstanding the accumulation of 
learning which has been spent upon it1  
one-half of the wit of ,aristophanes is 
altogether lost to the moderns4 ,nothing
 but the incredible acuteness and       
vivacity of the ,athenian intellect     
could make it conceivable that these    
comedies which1 with all their farcical 
drolleries1 do1 nevertheless1 all the   
while bear upon the most grave interests
 of human life1 could ever have formed a
 source of popular amusement4 ,we may   
envy the poet who could reckon on so    
clever and accomplished a public2 but   
this was in truth a very dangerous      

advantage4 ,spectators whose            
understandings were so quick1 would not 
be easily pleased4 ,thus ,aristophanes  
complains of the too fastidious taste of
 the ,athenians1 with whom the most     
admired of his predecessors were        
immediately out of favour as soon as the
 slightest trace of a falling off in    
their mental powers was perceivable4 ,on
 the other hand1 he allows that the     
other ,greeks could not bear the        
slightest comparison with them in a     
knowledge of the ,dramatic ,art4 ,even  
genius in this department strove to     
excel at ,athens1 and here1 too1 the    
competition was confined within the     
narrow period of a few festivals1 during
 which the people always expected to see
 something new1 of which there was      
always a plentiful supply4 ,the prizes  
7on which all depended1 there being no  
other means of gaining publicity7 were  
distributed after a single              
representation4 ,we may easily imagine1 
therefore1 the state of perfection to   

which this would be carried under the   
directing care of the poet4 ,if we also 
take into consideration the high state  
of the co-operating arts1 the utmost    
distinctness of delivery 7both in       
speaking and singing17 of the most      
finished poetry1 as well as the         
magnificence and vast size of the       
theatre1 we shall then have some idea of
 a theatrical treat1 the like of which  
has never since been offered to the     
world4  ,although1 among the remaining  
works of ,aristophanes1 we have several 
of his earliest pieces1 they all bear   
the stamp of equal maturity4 ,he had1 in
 fact1 been long labouring in silence to
 perfect himself in the exercise of an  
art which he conceived to be of all     
others the most difficult2 nay1 from    
diffidence in his own power1 7or1 to use
 his own words1 like a young girl who   
consigns to the care of others the child
 of her secret love17 he even brought   
out his earliest pieces under others'   
names4 ,he appeared for the first time  

without this disguise with the ,knights1
 and here he displayed the undaunted    
resolution of a comedian1 by an open    
assault on popular opinion4 ,his object 
was nothing less than the overthrow of  
,cleon1 who1 after the death of         
,pericles1 was at the head of all state 
affairs1 a promoter of war1 and a       
worthless man of very ordinary          
abilities1 but at the same time the idol
 of an infatuated people4 ,the only     
opponents of ,cleon were the rich       
proprietors1 who constituted the class  
of horsemen or knights3 these           
,aristophanes in the strongest manner   
made of his party1 by forming the chorus
 of them4 ,he had the prudence never to 
name ,cleon1 though he portrayed him in 
such a way that it was impossible to    
mistake him4 ,yet such was the dread    
entertained of ,cleon and his faction1  
that no mask-maker would venture to     
execute his likeness3 the poet1         
therefore1 resolved to act the part     
himself1 merely painting his face4 ,we  

may easily imagine the storms and       
tumults which this representation must  
have excited among the assembled crowd2 
however1 the bold and well-concerted    
efforts of the poet were crowned with   
success3 his piece gained the prize4 ,he
 was proud of this feat of theatrical   
heroism1 and often alludes with a       
feeling of satisfaction to the          
,herculean valour with which he first   
combated the mighty monster4 ,no one of 
his plays1 perhaps1 is more historical  
and political2 and its rhetorical power 
in exciting our indignation is almost   
irresistible3 it is a true dramatic     
,philippic4 ,however1 in point of       
amusement and invention1 it does not    
appear to me the most fortunate4 ,the   
thought of the serious danger which he  
was incurring may possibly have disposed
 him to a more serious tone than was    
suitable to comedy1 or stung1 perhaps1  
by the persecution he had already       
suffered from ,cleon1 he may1 perhaps1  
have vented his rage in too             

,archilochean a style4 ,when the storm  
of cutting invective has somewhat spent 
itself1 we have then several droll      
scenes1 such us that where the two      
demagogues1 the leather-dealer 7that is1
 ,cleon7 and the sausage-seller1 vie    
with each other by adulation1 by        
oracle-quoting1 and by dainty tit-bits1 
to gain the favour of ,demos1 a         
personification of the people1 who has  
become childish through age1 a scene    
humorous in the highest degree2 and the 
piece ends with a triumphal rejoicing1  
which may almost be said to be          
affecting1 when the scene changes from  
the ,pnyx1 the place where the people   
assembled1 to the majestic ,propylaea1  
when ,demos1 who has been wonderfully   
restored to a second youth1 comes       
forward in the garb of an ancient       
,athenian1 and shows that with his      
youthful vigour1 he has also recovered  
the olden sentiments of the days of     
,marathon4  ,with the exception of this 
attack on ,cleon1 and with the exception

 also of the attacks on ,euripides1 whom
 he seems to have pursued with the most 
unrelenting perseverance1 the other     
pieces of ,aristophanes are not so      
exclusively pointed against individuals4
 ,they have always a general1 and for   
the most part a very important aim1     
which the poet1 with all his turnings1  
digressions1 and odd medleys1 never     
loses sight of4 ,the ,peace1 the        
,acharnae1 and the ,lysistrata1 with    
many turns1 still all recommend peace2  
and one object of the ,ecclesiazusae1 or
 ,women in ,parliament11 of the         
,thesmophoriazusae1 or ,women keeping   
the ,festival of the ,thesmophoriae1 and
 of ,lysistrata1 is to throw ridicule on
 the relations and the manners of the   
female sex4 ,in the ,clouds he laughs at
 the metaphysics of the ,sophists1 in   
the ,wasps at the mania of the          
,athenians for hearing and determining  
law-suits2 the subject of the ,frogs is 
the decline of the tragic art1 and      
,plutus is an allegory on the unjust    

distribution of wealth4 ,the ,birds are1
 of all his pieces1 the one of which the
 aim is the least apparent1 and it is on
 that very account one of the most      
diverting4  ,peace begins in the most   
spirited and lively manner2 the peace-  
loving ,trygaeus rides on a dung-beetle 
to heaven in the manner of ,bellerophon2
 ,war1 a desolating giant1 with his     
comrade ,riot1 alone1 in place of all   
the other gods1 inhabits ,olympus1 and  
there pounds the cities of men in a     
great mortar1 making use of the most    
celebrated generals for pestles4 ,the   
,goddess ,peace lies buried in a deep   
well1 out of which she is hauled up by  
ropes1 through the united exertions of  
all the states of ,greece3 all these    
ingenious and fanciful inventions are   
calculated to produce the most ludicrous
 effect4 ,afterwards1 however1 the play 
is not sustained at an equal elevation2 
nothing remains but to sacrifice1 and to
 carouse in honour of the recovered     
,goddess of ,peace1 when the importunate

 visits of such persons as found their  
advantage in war form1 indeed1 an       
entertainment pleasant enough1 but by no
 means correspondent to the expectations
 which the commencement gives rise to4  
,we have1 in this piece1 an additional  
example to prove that the ancient comic 
writers not only changed the decoration 
during the intervals1 when the stage was
 empty1 but also while an actor was in  
sight4 ,the scene changes from ,attica  
to ,olympus1 while ,trygaeus is         
suspended in the air on his beetle1 and 
calls anxiously to the director of the  
machinery to take care that he does not 
break his neck4 ,his descent into the   
orchestra afterwards denotes his return 
to the earth4 ,it was possible to       
overlook the liberties taken by the     
tragedians1 according as their subject  
might require it1 with the ,unities of  
,place and ,time1 on which such         
ridiculous stress has been laid by many 
of the moderns1 but the bold manner in  
which the old comic writer subjects     

these mere externalities to his sportive
 caprice is so striking1 that it must   
enforce itself on the most short-sighted
 observers3 and yet in all the treatises
 on the constitution of the ,greek      
stage1 due respect has never yet been   
paid to it4  ,the ,acharnians1 an       
earlier piece1 ,footnote3 ,the          
,didascaliae place it in the year before
 the ,knights4 ,it is therefore1 the    
earliest of the extant pieces of        
,aristophanes1 and the only one of those
 which he brought out under a borrowed  
name1 that has come down to us4 appears 
to me to possess a much higher          
excellence than ,peace1 on account of   
the continual progress of the story1 and
 the increasing drollery1 which at last 
ends in a downright ,bacchanalian       
uproar4 ,dikaiopolis1 the honest        
citizen1 enraged at the base artifices  
by which the people are deluded1 and by 
which they are induced to reject all    
proposals for peace1 sends an embassy to
 ,lacedaemon1 and concludes a separate  

treaty for himself and his family4 ,he  
then retires to the country1 and1 in    
spite of all assaults1 encloses a piece 
of ground before his house1 within which
 there is a peaceful market for the     
people of the neighbouring states1 while
 the rest of the country is suffering   
from the calamities of war4 ,the        
blessings of peace are represented most 
temptingly to hungry stomachs3 the fat  
,boeotian brings his delicious eels and 
poultry for sale1 and nothing is thought
 of but feasting and carousing4         
,lamachus1 the celebrated general1 who  
lives on the other side1 is1 in         
consequence of a sudden inroad of the   
enemy1 called away to defend the        
frontiers2 ,dikaiopolis1 on the other   
hand1 is invited by his neighbours to a 
feast1 where every one brings his own   
scot4 ,preparations military and        
preparations culinary are now carried on
 with equal industry and alacrity2 here 
they seize the lance1 there the spit2   
here the armour rings1 there the        

wine-flagon2 there they are feathering  
helmets1 here they are plucking         
thrushes4 ,shortly afterwards ,lamachus 
returns1 supported by two of his        
comrades1 with a broken head and a lame 
foot1 and from the other side           
,dikaiopolis is brought in drunk1 and   
led by two good-natured damsels4 ,the   
lamentations of the one are perpetually 
mimicked and ridiculed in the rejoicings
 of the other2 and with this contrast1  
which is carried to the very utmost     
limit1 the play ends4  ,lysistrata is in
 such bad repute1 that we must mention  
it lightly and rapidly1 just as we would
 tread over hot embers4 ,according to   
the story of the poet1 the women have   
taken it into their heads to compel     
their husbands1 by a severe resolution1 
to make peace4 ,under the direction of a
 clever leader they organize a          
conspiracy for this purpose throughout  
all ,greece1 and at the same time gain  
possession in ,athens of the fortified  
,acropolis4 ,the terrible plight the men

 are reduced to by this separation gives
 rise to the most laughable scenes2     
plenipotentiaries appear from the two   
hostile powers1 and peace is speedily   
concluded under the management of the   
sage ,lysistrata4 ,notwithstanding the  
mad indecencies which are contained in  
the piece1 its purpose1 when stript of  
these1 is upon the whole very innocent3 
the longing for the enjoyment of        
domestic joys1 so often interrupted by  
the absence of the husbands1 is to be   
the means of putting an end to the      
calamitous war by which ,greece had so  
long been torn in pieces4 ,in           
particular1 the honest bluntness of the 
,lacedaemonians is inimitably portrayed4
  ,the ,ecclesiazusae is in like manner 
a picture of woman's ascendency1 but one
 much more depraved than the former4 ,in
 the dress of men the women steal into  
the public assembly1 and by means of the
 majority of voices which they have thus
 surreptitiously obtained1 they decree a
 new constitution1 in which there is to 

be a community of goods and of women4   
,this is a satire on the ideal republics
 of the philosophers1 with similar laws2
 ,protagoras had projected such before  
,plato4 ,the comedy appears to me to    
labour under the very same fault as the 
,peace3 the introduction1 the secret    
assembly of the women1 their rehearsal  
of their parts as men1 the description  
of the popular assembly1 are all handled
 in the most masterly manner2 but       
towards the middle the action stands    
still4 ,nothing remains but the         
representation of the perplexities and  
confusion which arise from the different
 communities1 especially the community  
of women1 and from the prescribed       
equality of rights in love both for the 
old and ugly1 and for the young and     
beautiful4 ,these perplexities are      
pleasant enough1 but they turn too much 
on a repetition of the same joke4       
,generally speaking1 the old allegorical
 comedy is in its progress exposed to   
the danger of sinking4 ,when we begin   

with turning the world upside down1 the 
most wonderful incidents follow one     
another as a matter of course1 but they 
are apt to appear petty and             
insignificant when compared with the    
decisive strokes of fun in the          
commencement4  ,the ,thesmophoriazusae  
has a proper intrigue1 a knot which is  
not loosed till the conclusion1 and in  
this possesses therefore a great        
advantage4 ,euripides1 on account of the
 well-known hatred of women displayed in
 his tragedies1 is accused and condemned
 at the festival of the ,thesmophoriae1 
at which women only were admitted4      
,after a fruitless attempt to induce the
 effeminate poet ,agathon to undertake  
the hazardous experiment1 ,euripides    
prevails on his brother-in-law1         
,mnesilochus1 who was somewhat advanced 
in years1 to disguise himself as a      
woman1 that under this assumed          
appearance he may plead his cause4 ,the 
manner in which he does this gives rise 
to suspicions1 and he is discovered to  

be a man2 he flies to the altar for     
refuge1 and to secure himself still more
 from the impending danger1 he snatches 
a child from the arms of one of the     
women1 and threatens to kill it if they 
do not let him alone4 ,as he attempts to
 strangle it1 it turns out to be a      
leather wine-flask wrapped up like a    
child4 ,euripides now appears in a      
number of different shapes to save his  
friend3 at one time he is ,menelaus1 who
 finds ,helen again in ,egypt2 at       
another time he is ,echo1 helping the   
chained ,andromeda to pour out her      
lamentations1 and immediately after he  
appears as ,perseus1 about to release   
her from the rock4 ,at length he        
succeeds in rescuing ,mnesilochus1 who  
is fastened to a sort of pillory1 by    
assuming the character of a procuress1  
and enticing away the officer of justice
 who has charge of him1 a simple        
barbarian1 by the charms of a female    
flute-player4 ,these parodied scenes1   
composed almost entirely in the very    

words of the tragedies1 are inimitable4 
,whenever ,euripides is introduced1 we  
may always1 generally speaking1 lay our 
account with having the most ingenious  
and apposite ridicule2 it seems as if   
the mind of ,aristophanes possessed a   
peculiar and specific power of giving a 
comic turn to the poetry of this        
tragedian4  ,the ,clouds is well known1 
but yet1 for the most part1 has not been
 duly understood or appreciated4 ,its   
object is to show that the fondness for 
philosophical subtleties had led to a   
neglect of warlike exercises1 that      
speculation only served to shake the    
foundations of religion and morals1 and 
that by the arts of sophistry1 every    
duty was rendered doubtful1 and the     
worse cause frequently came off         
victorious4 ,the ,clouds themselves1 as 
the chorus of the piece 7for the poet   
converts these substances into persons1 
and dresses them out strangely enough71 
are an allegory on the metaphysical     
speculations which do not rest on the   

ground of experience1 but float about   
without any definite shape or body1 in  
the region of possibilities4 ,we may    
observe in general that it is one of the
 peculiarities of the wit of            
,aristophanes to take a metaphor        
literally1 and to exhibit it in this    
light before the eyes of the spectators4
 ,of a man addicted to unintelligible   
reveries1 it is a common way of speaking
 to say that he is up in the clouds1 and
 accordingly ,socrates makes his first  
appearance actually descending from the 
air in a basket4 ,whether this applies  
exactly to him is another question2 but 
we have reason to believe that the      
philosophy of ,socrates was very ideal1 
and that it was by no means so limited  
to popular and practical matters as     
,xenophon would have us believe4 ,but   
why has ,aristophanes personified the   
sophistical metaphysics by the venerable
 ,socrates1 who was himself a determined
 opponent of the ,sophists8 ,there was  
probably some personal grudge at the    

bottom of this1 and we do not attempt to
 justify it2 but the choice of the name 
by no means diminishes the merit of the 
picture itself4 ,aristophanes declares  
this play to be the most elaborate of   
all his works3 but in such expressions  
we are not always to take him exactly at
 his word4 ,on all occasions1 and       
without the least hesitation1 he        
lavishes upon himself the most          
extravagant praises2 and this must be   
considered a feature of the licence of  
comedy4 ,however1 the ,clouds was       
unfavourably received1 and twice        
unsuccessfully competed for the prize4  
,the ,frogs1 as we have already said1   
has for its subject the decline of      
,tragic ,art4 ,euripides was dead1 as   
well as ,sophocles and ,agathon1 and    
none but poets of the second rank were  
now remaining4 ,bacchus misses          
,euripides1 and determines to bring him 
back from the infernal world4 ,in this  
he imitates ,hercules1 but although     
furnished with that hero's lion- skin   

and club1 in sentiments he is very      
unlike him1 and as a dastardly          
voluptuary affords us much matter for   
laughter4 ,here we have a characteristic
 specimen of the audacity of            
,aristophanes3 he does not even spare   
the patron of his own art1 in whose     
honour this very play was exhibited4 ,it
 was thought that the gods understood a 
joke as well1 if not better1 than men4  
,bacchus rows himself over the          
,acherusian lake1 where the frogs       
merrily greet him with their melodious  
croakings4 ,the proper chorus1 however1 
consists of the shades of those         
initiated in the ,eleusinian mysteries1 
and odes of surpassing beauty are put in
 their mouths4 ,aeschylus had hitherto  
occupied the tragic throne in the world 
below1 but ,euripides wants to eject    
him4 ,pluto presides1 but appoints      
,bacchus to determine this great        
controversy2 the two poets1 the         
sublimely wrathful ,aeschylus1 and the  
subtle and conceited ,euripides1 stand  

opposite each other and deliver         
specimens of their poetical powers2 they
 sing1 they declaim against each other1 
and in all their peculiar traits are    
characterised in masterly style4 ,at    
last a balance is brought1 on which each
 lays a verse2 but notwithstanding all  
the efforts of ,euripides to produce    
ponderous lines1 those of ,aeschylus    
always make the scale of his rival to   
kick the beam4 ,at last the latter      
becomes impatient of the contest1 and   
proposes that ,euripides himself1 with  
all his works1 his wife1 children1      
,cephisophon and all1 shall get into one
 scale1 and he will only lay against    
them in the other two verses4 ,bacchus  
in the mean time has become a convert to
 the merits of ,aeschylus1 and although 
he had sworn to ,euripides that he would
 take him back with him from the lower  
world1 he dismisses him with a parody of
 one of his own verses in ,hippolytus3  
,my tongue hath sworn1 ,i however make  
choice of ,aeschylus4  ,aeschylus       

consequently returns to the living      
world1 and resigns the tragic throne in 
his absence to ,sophocles4  ,the        
observation on the changes of place1    
which ,i made when mentioning ,peace1   
may be here repeated4 ,the scene is     
first at ,thebes1 of which both ,bacchus
 and ,hercules were natives2 afterwards 
the stage is changed1 without its ever  
being left by ,bacchus1 to the nether   
shore of the ,acherusian lake1 which    
must have been represented by the sunken
 space of the orchestra1 and it was not 
till ,bacchus landed at the other end of
 the logeum that the scenery represented
 the infernal world1 with the palace of 
,pluto in the back-ground4 ,this is not 
a mere conjecture1 it is expressly      
stated by the old scholiast4  ,the      
,wasps is1 in my opinion1 the feeblest  
of ,aristophanes' plays4 ,the subject is
 too limited1 the folly it ridicules    
appears a disease of too singular a     
description1 without a sufficient       
universality of application1 and the    

action is too much drawn out4 ,the poet 
himself speaks this time in very modest 
language of his means of entertainment1 
and does not even promise us immoderate 
laughter4  ,on the other hand1 the      
,birds transports us by one of the      
boldest and richest inventions into the 
kingdom of the fantastically wonderful1 
and delights us with a display of the   
gayest hilarity3 it is a joyous- winged 
and gay-plumed creation4 ,i cannot      
concur with the old critic in thinking  
that we have in this work a universal   
and undisguised satire on the           
corruptions of the ,athenian state1 and 
of all human society4 ,it seems rather a
 harmless display of merry pranks1 which
 hit alike at gods and men without any  
particular object in view4 ,whatever was
 remarkable about birds in natural      
history1 in mythology1 in the doctrine  
of divination1 in the fables of ,aesop1 
or even in proverbial expressions1 has  
been ingeniously drawn to his purpose by
 the poet2 who even goes back to        

cosmogony1 and shows that at first the  
raven-winged ,night laid a wind-egg1 out
 of which the lovely ,eros1 with golden 
pinions 7without doubt a bird71 soared  
aloft1 and thereupon gave birth to all  
things4 ,two fugitives of the human race
 fall into the domain of the birds1 who 
resolve to revenge themselves on them   
for the numerous cruelties which they   
have suffered3 the two men contrive to  
save themselves by proving the          
pre-eminency of the birds over all other
 creatures1 and they advise them to     
collect all their scattered powers into 
one immense state2 the wondrous city1   
,cloud-cuckootown1 is then built above  
the earth2 all sorts of unbidden guests1
 priests1 poets1 soothsayers1 geometers1
 lawyers1 sycophants1 wish to nestle in 
the new state1 but are driven out2 new  
gods are appointed1 naturally enough1   
after the image of the birds1 as those  
of men bore a resemblance to man4       
,olympus is walled up against the old   
gods1 so that no odour of sacrifices can

 reach them2 in their emergency1 they   
send an embassy1 consisting of the      
voracious ,hercules1 ,neptune1 who      
swears according to the common formula1 
by ,neptune1 and a ,thracian god1 who is
 not very familiar with ,greek1 but     
speaks a sort of mixed jargon2 they are1
 however1 under the necessity of        
submitting to any conditions they can   
get1 and the sovereignty of the world is
 left to the birds4 ,however much all   
this resembles a mere farcical fairy    
tale1 it may be said1 however1 to have a
 philosophical signification1 in thus   
taking a sort of bird's-eye view of all 
things1 seeing that most of our ideas   
are only true in a human point of view4 
,the old critics were of opinion that   
,cratinus was powerful in that biting   
satire which makes its attack without   
disguise1 but that he was deficient in a
 pleasant humour1 also that he wanted   
the skill to develope a striking subject
 to the best advantage1 and to fill up  
his pieces with the necessary details4  

,eupolis they tell us was agreeable in  
his jokes1 and ingenious in covert      
allusions1 so that he never needed the  
assistance of parabases to say whatever 
he wished1 but that he was deficient in 
satiric power4 ,but ,aristophanes1 they 
add1 by a happy medium1 united the      
excellencies of both1 and that in him we
 have satire and pleasantry combined in 
due proportion and attractive manner4   
,from these statements ,i conceive      
myself justified in assuming that among 
the pieces of ,aristophanes1 the        
,knights is the most in the style of    
,cratinus1 and the ,birds in that of    
,eupolis2 and that he had their         
respective manners in view when he      
composed these pieces4 ,for although he 
boasts of his independent originality1  
and of his never borrowing anything from
 others1 it was hardly possible that    
among such distinguished contemporary   
artists1 all reciprocal influence should
 be excluded4 ,if this opinion be well  
founded1 we have to lament the loss of  

the works of ,cratinus1 perhaps         
principally on account of the light they
 would have thrown on the manners of the
 times1 and the knowledge they might    
have afforded of the ,athenian          
constitution1 while the loss of the     
works of ,eupolis is to be regretted1   
chiefly for the comic form in which they
 were delivered4  ,plutus was one of the
 earlier pieces of the poet1 but as we  
have it1 it is one of his last works2   
for the first piece was afterwards      
recast by him4 ,in its essence it       
belongs to the ,old ,comedy1 but in the 
sparingness of personal satire1 and in  
the mild tone which prevails throughout1
 we may trace an approximation to the   
,middle ,comedy4 ,the ,old ,comedy      
indeed had not yet received its         
death-blow from a formal enactment1 but 
even at this date ,aristophanes may have
 deemed it prudent to avoid a full      
exercise of the democratic privilege of 
comedy4 ,it has even been said 7perhaps 
without any foundation1 as the          

circumstance has been denied by others7 
that ,alcibiades ordered ,eupolis to be 
drowned on account of a piece which he  
had aimed at him4 ,dangers of this      
description would repress the most      
ardent zeal of authorship3 it is but    
fair that those who seek to afford      
pleasure to their fellow-citizens should
 at least be secure of their life4      
,,appendix ,,to ,,the ,,twelfth         
,,lecture4  ,as we do not1 so far as ,i 
know1 possess as yet a satisfactory     
poetical translation of ,aristophanes1  
and as the whole works of this author   
must1 for many reasons1 ever remain     
untranslatable1 ,i have been induced to 
lay before my readers the scene in the  
,acharnians where ,euripides makes his  
appearance2 not that this play does not 
contain many other scenes of equal1 if  
not superior merit1 but because it      
relates to the character of this        
tragedian as an artist1 and is both free
 from indecency1 and1 moreover1 easily  
understood4  ,the ,acharnians1          

country-people of ,attica1 who have     
greatly suffered from the enemy1 are    
highly enraged at ,dikaiopolis for      
concluding a peace with the             
,lacedaemonians1 and determine to stone 
him4 ,he undertakes to speak in defence 
of the ,lacedaemonians1 standing the    
while behind a block1 as he is to lose  
his head if he does not succeed in      
convincing them4 ,in this ticklish      
predicament1 he calls on ,euripides1 to 
lend him the tattered garments in which 
that poet's heroes were in the habit of 
exciting commiseration4 ,we must suppose
 the house of the tragic poet to occupy 
the middle of the back scene4           
,,dikaiopolis4 ',tis time ,i pluck up   
all my courage then1 ,and pay a visit to
 ,euripides4 ,boy1 boy6  ,,cephisophon4 
,who's there8  ,,dikaiopolis4           
,is ,euripides within8  ,,cephisophon4  
,within1 and not within3 ,can'st fathom 
that8  ,,dikaiopolis4 ,how within1 yet  
not within8  ,,cephisophon4             
',tis true1 old fellow4 ,his mind is out

 collecting dainty verses1 #a ,and not  
within4 ,but he's himself aloft ,writing
 a tragedy4  ,,dikaiopolis4             
,happy ,euripides1 ,whose servant here  
can give such witty answers4 ,call him4 
,,cephisophon4                   ,it may
 not be4  ,,dikaiopolis4                
,i say1 you must though-- ,for hence ,i 
will not budge1 but knock the door down4
 ,euripides1 ,euripides1 my darling6 #b 
,hear me1 at least1 if deaf to all      
besides4 ',tis ,dikaiopolis of ,chollis 
calls you4  ,,euripides4                
,i have not time4  ,,dikaiopolis4 ,at   
least roll round4 #c  ,,euripides4      
,i can't4 #d  ,,dikaiopolis4            
,you must4  ,,euripides4 ,well1 ,i'll   
roll round4 ,come down ,i can't2 ,i'm   
busy4  ,,dikaiopolis4 ,euripides6       
,,euripides4              ,what would'st
 thou with thy bawling4  ,,dikaiopolis  
,what6 you compose aloft and not below4 
,no wonder if your muse's bantlings     
halt4 ,again1 those rags and cloak right
 tragical1 ,the very garb for sketching 

beggars in6 ,but sweet ,euripides1 a    
boon1 ,i pray thee4 ,give me the moving 
rags of some old play2 ,i've a long     
speech to make before the ,chorus1 ,and 
if ,i falter1 why the forfeit's death4  
,,euripides4 ,what rags will suit you8  
,those in which old ,oeneus1 ,that      
hapless wight1 went through his bitter  
conflict8  ,,dikaiopolis4 ,not ,oeneus1 
no1--but one still sorrier4             
,,euripides4 ,those of blind ,phoenix8  
,,dikaiopolis4                          
,no1 not ,phoenix either2 ,but another1 
more wretched still than ,phoenix       
,,euripides4 ,whose sorry tatters can   
the fellow want8 ',tis ,philoctetes'    
sure6 ,you mean that beggar4            
,,dikaiopolis4 ,no2 but a person still  
more beggarly4  ,,euripides4 ,i have it4
 ,you want the sorry garments           
,bellerophon1 the lame man1 used to     
wear4  ,,dikaiopolis4 ,no1--not         
,bellerophon4 ,though the man ,i mean   
,was lame1 importunate1 and bold of     
speech4  ,,euripides4 ,i know1 ',tis    

,telephus the ,mysian4  ,,dikaiopolis4  
,right4 ,yes1 ,telephus3 lend me his    
rags ,i pray you4  ,,euripides4 ,ho1    
boy6 ,give him the rags of ,telephus4   
,there lie they2 just upon ,thyestes'   
rags1 ,and under those of ,ino4         
,,cephisophon4                          
,here6 take them4  ,,dikaiopolis        
7putting them on74 ,now ,jove6 who      
lookest on1 and see'st through all1 #e  
,your blessing1 while thus wretchedly ,i
 garb me4 ,pr'ythee1 ,euripides1 a      
further boon1 ,it goes1 ,i think1       
together with these rags3 ,the little   
,mysian bonnet for my head2 ,for sooth  
to-day ,i must put on the beggar1 ,and  
be still what ,i am1 and yet not seem   
so4 #f ,the audience here may know me   
who ,i am1 ,but like poor fools the     
chorus stand unwitting1 ,while ,i trick 
them with my flowers of rhetoric4       
,,euripides4 ,a rare device1 i'faith6   
,take it and welcome4  ,,dikaiopolis4   
,for thee4 my blessing2 for ,telephus1  
my thoughts4 #g ',tis well2 already1    

words flow thick and fast4 ,oh6 ,i had  
near forgot--,a beggar's staff1 ,i pray4
  ,,euripides4 ,here1 take one1 and     
thyself too from these doors4           
,,dikaiopolis4 7,aside47 ,see'st thou1  
my soul1--he'd drive thee from his door 
,still lacking many things4 ,become at  
once ,a supple1 oily beggar4 7,aloud47  
,good ,euripides1 ,lend me a basket1    
pray2--though the bottom's ,scorch'd1   
'twill do4  ,,euripides4                
,poor wretch6 ,a basket8 ,what's thy    
need on't8  ,,dikaiopolis4 ,no need     
beyond the simple wish to have it4      
,,euripides4 ,you're getting            
troublesome4 ,come pack--be off4        
,,dikaiopolis4 7,aside47 ,faugh6 ,faugh6
 7,aloud47 ,may heaven prosper thee     
as--thy good mother4 #h  ,,euripides4   
,be off1 ,i say6  ,,dikaiopolis4        
,not till thou grant'st my prayer4 ,only
 a little cup with broken rim4          
,,euripides4 ,take it and go2 for know  
you're quite a plague4  ,,dikaiopolis4  
7,aside47 ,knows he how great a pest he 

is himself8 7,aloud47 ,but1 my          
,euripides6 my sweet6 one thing more3   
,give me a cracked pipkin stopped with  
sponge4  ,,euripides4 ,the man would rob
 me of a tragedy complete4 ,there--take 
it1 and begone4  ,,dikaiopolis4 ,well6  
,i am going4 ,yet what to do8 ,one thing
 ,i lack1 whose want ,undoes me4 ,good1 
sweet ,euripides6 ,grant me but this1   
,i'll ask no more1 but go-- ,some       
cabbage-leaves--a few just in my basket6
  ,,euripides4 ,you'll ruin me4 ,see    
there6 ,a whole play's gone6            
,,dikaiopolis 7seemingly going off74    
,nothing more now4 ,i'm really off4 ,i  
am1 ,i own1 ,a bore1 wanting in tact to 
please the great4 ,woe's me6 ,was ever  
such a wretch8 ,alas6 ,i have forgot the
 very chiefest thing of all4 ,hear me1  
,euripides1 my dear6 my darling4        
,choicest ills betide me6 if e'er ,i ask
 ,aught more than this2 but one--this   
one alone3 ,throw me a pot-herb from thy
 mother's stock4  ,,euripides4 ,the     
fellow would insult me--shut the door4  

7,the ,encyclema revolves1 and          
,euripides and ,cephisophon retire47    
,,dikaiopolis4 ,soul of me1 thou must go
 without a pot-herb6 ,wist thou what    
conflict thou must soon contend in ,to  
proffer speech and full defence for     
,sparta8 ,forward1 my soul6 the barriers
 are before thee4 ,what1 dost loiter8   
hast not imbibed ,euripides8 ,and yet ,i
 blame thee not4 ,courage1 sad heart6   
,and forward1 though it be to lay thy   
head ,upon the block4 ,rouse thee1 and  
speak thy mind4 ,forward there6 forward 
again6 bravely heart1 bravely4   ,,notes
  #a ,the ,greek diminutive epullia is  
here correctly expressed by the ,german 
verschen1 but versicle would not be     
tolerated in ,english4--,,trans4  #b    
,euripidion--in the ,german             
,euripidelein4--,,trans4  #c ,a         
technical expression from the           
,encyclema1 which was thrust out4  #d   
,euripides appears in the upper story2  
but as in an altana1 or sitting to an   
open gallery4  #e ,alluding to the holes

 in the mantle which he holds up to the 
light4  #f ,these lines are from        
,euripides' tragedy of ,telephus4  #g   
,an allusion 7which a few lines lower is
 again repeated7 to his mother as a poor
 retailer of vegetables4  #h ,see       
previous footnote4     ,,lecture ,,xiii4
  ,whether the ,middle ,comedy was a    
distinct species--,origin of the ,new   
,comedy--,a mixed species--,its prosaic 
character--,whether versification is    
essential to ,comedy--,subordinate      
kinds--,pieces of ,character1 and of    
,intrigue--,the ,comic of observation1  
of self-consciousness1 and arbitrary    
,comic--,morality of ,comedy--,plautus  
and ,terence as imitators of the ,greeks
 here cited and characterised for want  
of the ,originals--,moral and social aim
 of the ,attic ,comedy--,statues of two 
,comic ,authors4   ,ancient critics     
assume the existence of a ,middle       
,comedy1 between the ,old and the ,new4 
,its distinguishing characteristics are 
variously described3 by some its        

peculiarity is made to consist in the   
abstinence from personal satire and     
introduction of real characters1 and by 
others in the abolition of the chorus4  
,but the introduction of real persons   
under their true names was never an     
indispensable requisite4 ,indeed1 in    
several1 even of ,aristophanes' plays1  
we find characters in no respect        
historical1 but altogether fictitious1  
but bearing significant names1 after the
 manner of the ,new ,comedy2 while      
personal satire is only occasionally    
employed4 ,this right of personal satire
 was no doubt1 as ,i have already shown1
 essential to the ,old ,comedy1 and the 
loss of it incapacitated the poets from 
throwing ridicule on public actions and 
affairs of state4 ,when accordingly they
 confined themselves to private life1   
the chorus ceased at once to have any   
significance4 ,however1 accidental      
circumstances accelerated its abolition4
 ,to dress and train the choristers was 
an expensive undertaking2 now1 as       

,comedy with the forfeiture of its      
political privileges lost also its      
festal dignity1 and was degraded into a 
mere amusement1 the poet no longer found
 any rich patrons willing to take upon  
themselves the expense of furnishing the
 chorus4  ,platonius mentions a further 
characteristic of the ,middle ,comedy4  
,on account1 he says1 of the danger of  
alluding to public affairs1 the comic   
writers had turned all their satire     
against serious poetry1 whether epic or 
tragic1 and sought to expose its        
absurdities and contradictions4 ,as a   
specimen of this kind he gives the      
,aeolosikon1 one of ,aristophanes'      
latest works4 ,this description         
coincides with the idea of parody1 which
 we placed foremost in our account of   
the ,old ,comedy4 ,platonius adduces    
also another instance in the ,ulysses of
 ,cratinus1 a burlesque of the ,odyssey4
 ,but1 in order of time1 no play of     
,cratinus could belong to the ,middle   
,comedy2 for his death is mentioned by  

,aristophanes in his ,peace4 ,and as to 
the drama of ,eupolis1 in which he      
described what we call an ,utopia1 or   
,lubberly ,land1 what else was it but a 
parody of the poetical legends of the   
golden age8 ,but in ,aristophanes1 not  
to mention his parodies of so many      
tragic scenes1 are not the              
,heaven-journey of ,trygaeus1 and the   
,hell-journey of ,bacchus1 ludicrous    
imitations of the deeds of ,bellerophon 
and ,hercules1 sung in epic and tragic  
poetry8 ,in vain therefore should we    
seek in this restriction to parody any  
distinctive peculiarity of the so-called
 ,middle ,comedy4 ,frolicsome caprice1  
and allegorical significance of         
composition are1 poetically considered1 
the only essential criteria of the ,old 
,comedy4 ,in this class1 therefore1 we  
shall rank every work where we find     
these qualities1 in whatever times1 and 
under whatever circumstances1 it may    
have been composed4  ,as the ,new       
,comedy arose out of a mere negation1   

the abolition1 viz41 of the old         
political freedom1 we may easily        
conceive that there would be an interval
 of fluctuating1 and tentative efforts  
to supply its place1 before a new comic 
form could be developed and fully       
established4 ,hence there may have been 
many kinds of the ,middle ,comedy1 many 
intermediate gradations1 between the    
,old and the ,new2 and this is the      
opinion of some men of learning4 ,and1  
indeed1 historically considered1 there  
appears good grounds for such a view2   
but in an artistic point of view1 a     
transition does not itself constitute a 
species4  ,we proceed therefore at once 
to the ,new ,comedy1 or that species of 
poetry which with us receives the       
appellation of ,comedy4 ,we shall1 ,i   
think1 form a more correct notion of it1
 if we consider it in its historical    
connexion1 and from a regard to its     
various ingredients explain it to be a  
mixed and modified species1 than we     
should were we to term it an original   

and pure species1 as those do who either
 do not concern themselves at all with  
the ,old ,comedy1 or else regard it as  
nothing better than a mere rude         
commencement4 ,hence1 the infinite      
importance of ,aristophanes1 as we have 
in him a kind of poetry of which there  
is no other example to be found in the  
world4  ,the ,new ,comedy may1 in       
certain respects1 be described as the   
,old1 tamed down2 but in productions of 
genius1 tameness is not generally       
considered a merit4 ,the loss incurred  
by the prohibition of an unrestricted   
freedom of satire the new comic writers 
endeavoured to compensate by a mixture  
of earnestness borrowed from tragedy1   
both in the form of representation and  
the general structure1 and also in the  
impressions which they laboured to      
produce4 ,we have seen how1 in its last 
epoch1 tragic poetry descended from its 
ideal elevation1 and came nearer to     
common reality1 both in the characters  
and in the tone of the dialogue1 but    

more especially in its endeavour to     
convey practical instruction respecting 
the conduct of civil and domestic life  
in all their several requirements4 ,this
 utilitarian turn in ,euripides was the 
subject of ,aristophanes' ironical      
commendation ,footnote3 ,the ,frogs1 v4 
#iga-iia44 ,euripides was the precursor 
of the ,new ,comedy2 and all the poets  
of this species particularly admired    
him1 and acknowledged him as their      
master4--,the similarity of tone and    
spirit is even so great between them1   
that moral maxims of ,euripides have    
been ascribed to ,menander1 and others  
of ,menander to ,euripides4 ,on the     
other hand1 among the fragments of      
,menander1 we find topics of consolation
 which frequently rise to the height of 
the true tragic tone4  ,new ,comedy1    
therefore1 is a mixture of earnestness  
and mirth4 ,footnote3 ,the original here
 is not susceptible of an exact         
translation into ,english4 ,though the  
,german language has this great         

advantage1 that there are few ideas     
which may not be expressed in it in     
words of ,teutonic origin1 yet words    
derived from ,greek and ,latin are also 
occasionally used indiscriminately with 
the ,teutonic synonymes1 for the sake of
 variety or otherwise4 ,thus the generic
 word spiel 7play71 is formed into      
lustspiel 7comedy71 trauerspiel         
7tragedy71 sing-spiel 7opera71          
schauspiel 7drama72 but the ,germans    
also use tragoedie1 komoedie1 opera and 
drama4 ,in the text1 the author         
proposes1 for the sake of distinction1  
to give the name of lustspiel to the    
,new ,comedy1 to distinguish it from the
 old2 but having only the single term   
comedy in ,english1 ,i must1 in         
translating lustspiel1 make use of the  
two words1 ,new ,comedy4--,,trans4 ,the 
poet no longer turns poetry and the     
world into ridicule1 he no longer       
abandons himself to an enthusiasm of    
fun1 but seeks the sportive element in  
the objects themselves2 he depicts in   

human characters and situations whatever
 occasions mirth1 in a word1 what is    
pleasant and laughable4 ,but the        
ridiculous must no longer come forward  
as the pure creation of his own fancy1  
but must be verisimilar1 that is1 seem  
to be real4 ,hence we must consider anew
 the above described comic ideal of     
human nature under the restrictions     
which this law of composition imposes1  
and determine accordingly the different 
kinds and gradations of the ,comic4     
,the highest tragic earnestness1 as ,i  
have already shown1 runs ever into the  
infinite2 and the subject of ,tragedy   
7properly speaking7 is the struggle     
between the outward finite existence1   
and the inward infinite aspirations4    
,the subdued earnestness of the ,new    
,comedy1 on the other hand1 remains     
always within the sphere of experience4 
,the place of ,destiny is supplied by   
,chance1 for the latter is the empirical
 conception of the former1 as being that
 which lies beyond our power or control4

 ,and accordingly we actually find among
 the fragments of the ,comic writers as 
many expressions about ,chance1 as we do
 in the tragedians about ,destiny4 ,to  
unconditional necessity1 moral liberty  
could alone be opposed2 as for ,chance1 
every one must use his wits1 and turn it
 to his own profit as he best can4 ,on  
this account1 the whole moral of the    
,new ,comedy1 just like that of the     
,fable1 is nothing more than a theory of
 prudence4 ,in this sense1 an ancient   
critic has1 with inimitable brevity1    
given us the whole sum of the matter3   
that ,tragedy is a running away from1 or
 making an end of1 life2 ,comedy its    
regulation4  ,the idea of the ,old      
,comedy is a fantastic illusion1 a      
pleasant dream1 which at last1 with the 
exception of the general effect1 all    
ends in nothing4 ,the ,new ,comedy1 on  
the other hand1 is earnest in its form4 
,it rejects every thing of a            
contradictory nature1 which might have  
the effect of destroying the impressions

 of reality4 ,it endeavours after strict
 coherence1 and has1 in common with     
,tragedy1 a formal complication and     
dnouement of plot4 ,like ,tragedy1 too1 
it connects together its incidents1 as  
cause and effect1 only that it adopts   
the law of existence as it manifests    
itself in experience1 without any such  
reference as ,tragedy assumes to an     
idea4 ,as the latter endeavours to      
satisfy our feelings at the close1 in   
like manner the ,new ,comedy endeavours 
to provide1 at least1 an apparent point 
of rest for the understanding4 ,this1 ,i
 may remark in passing1 is by no means  
an easy task for the comic writer3 he   
must contrive at last skilfully and     
naturally to get rid of the             
contradictions which with their         
complication and intricacy have diverted
 us during the course of the action2 if 
he really smooths them all off by making
 his fools become rational1 or by       
reforming or punishing his villains1    
then there is an end at once of         

everything like a pleasant and comical  
impression4  ,such were the comic and   
tragic ingredients of the ,new ,comedy1 
or ,comedy in general4 ,there is yet a  
third1 however1 which in itself is      
neither comic nor tragic1 in short1 not 
even poetic4 ,i allude to its           
portrait-like truthfulness4 ,the ideal  
and caricature1 both in the plastic arts
 and in dramatic poetry1 lay claim to no
 other truth than that which lies in    
their significance3 their individual    
beings even are not intended to appear  
real4 ,tragedy moves in an ideal1 and   
the ,old ,comedy in a fanciful or       
fantastical world4 ,as the creative     
power of the fancy was circumscribed in 
the ,new ,comedy1 it became necessary to
 afford some equivalent to the          
understanding1 and this was furnished by
 the probability of the subjects        
represented1 of which it was to be the  
judge4 ,i do not mean the calculation of
 the rarity or frequency of the         
represented incidents 7for without the  

liberty of depicting singularities1 even
 while keeping within the limits of     
every-day life1 comic amusement would be
 impossible71 but all that is here meant
 is the individual truth of the picture4
 ,the ,new ,comedy must be a true       
picture of the manners of the day1 and  
its tone must be local and national2 and
 even if we should see comedies of other
 times1 and other nations1 brought upon 
the stage1 we shall still be able to    
trace and be pleased with this          
resemblance4 ,by portrait-like          
truthfulness ,i do not mean that the    
comic characters must be altogether     
individual4 ,the most striking features 
of different individuals of a class may 
be combined together in a certain       
completeness1 provided they are clothed 
with a sufficient degree of peculiarity 
to have an individual life1 and are not 
represented as examples of any partial  
and incomplete conception4 ,but in so   
far as ,comedy depicts the constitution 
of social and domestic life in general1 

it is a portrait2 from this prosaic side
 it must be variously modified1         
according to time and place1 while the  
comic motives1 in respect of their      
poetical principle1 are always the same4
  ,the ancients themselves acknowledged 
the ,new ,comedy to be a faithful       
picture of life4 ,full of this idea1 the
 grammarian ,aristophanes exclaimed in a
 somewhat affected1 though highly       
ingenious turn of expression3 ,o life   
and ,menander6 which of you copied the  
other8 ,horace informs us that some     
doubted whether ,comedy be a poem2      
because neither in its subject nor in   
its language is there the same          
impressive elevation which distinguished
 from ordinary discourse by the         
versification4 ,but it was urged by     
others1 that ,comedy occasionally       
elevates her tone2 for instance1 when an
 angry father reproaches a son for his  
extravagance4 ,this answer1 however1 is 
rejected by ,horace as insufficient4    
,would ,pomponius1 says he1 with a      

sarcastic application1 hear milder      
reproaches if his father were living8   
,to answer the doubt1 we must examine   
wherein ,comedy goes beyond individual  
reality4 ,in the first place it is a    
simulated whole1 composed of congruous  
parts1 agreeably to the scale of art4   
,moreover1 the subject represented is   
handled according to the laws of        
theatrical exhibition2 everything       
foreign and incongruous is kept out1    
while all that is essential to the      
matter in hand is hurried on with       
swifter progress than in real life2 over
 the whole1 viz41 the situations and    
characters1 a certain clearness and     
distinctness of appearance is thrown1   
which the vague and indeterminate       
outlines of reality seldom possess4     
,thus the form constitutes the poetic   
element of ,comedy1 while its prosaic   
principle lies in the matter1 in the    
required assimilation to something      
individual and external4  ,we may now   
fitly proceed to the consideration of   

the much mooted question1 whether       
versification be essential to ,comedy1  
and whether a comedy written in prose is
 an imperfect production4 ,this question
 has been frequently answered in the    
affirmative on the authority of the     
ancients1 who1 it is true1 had no       
theatrical works in prose2 this1        
however1 may have arisen from accidental
 circumstances1 for example1 the great  
extent of their stage1 in which verse1  
from its more emphatic delivery1 must   
have been better heard than prose4      
,moreover1 these critics forget that the
 ,mimes of ,sophron1 so much admired by 
,plato1 were written in prose4 ,and what
 were these ,mimes8 ,if we may judge of 
them from the statement that some of the
 ,idylls of ,theocritus were imitations 
of them in hexameters1 they were        
pictures of real life1 in which every   
appearance of poetry was studiously     
avoided4 ,this consists in the coherence
 and connexion of a drama1 which        
certainly is not found in these pieces2 

they are merely so many detached scenes1
 in which one thing succeeds another by 
chance1 and without preparation1 as the 
particular hour of any working-day or   
holiday brought it about4 ,the want of  
dramatic interest was supplied by the   
mimic element1 that is1 by the most     
accurate representation of individual   
peculiarities in action and language1   
which arose from nationality as modified
 by local circumstances1 and from sex1  
age1 rank1 occupations1 and so forth4   
,even in versified ,comedy1 the language
 must1 in the choice of words and       
phrases1 differ in no respect1 or at    
least in no perceptible degree1 from    
that of ordinary life2 the licences of  
poetical expression1 which are          
indispensable in other departments of   
poetry1 are here inadmissible4 ,not only
 must the versification not interfere   
with the common1 unconstrained1 and even
 careless tone of conversation1 but it  
must also seem to be itself             
unpremeditated4 ,it must not by its     

lofty tone elevate the characters as in 
,tragedy1 where1 along with the unusual 
sublimity of the language1 it becomes as
 it were a mental ,cothurnus4 ,in       
,comedy the verse must serve merely to  
give greater lightness1 spirit1 and     
elegance to the dialogue4 ,whether1     
therefore1 a particular comedy ought to 
be versified or not1 must depend on the 
consideration whether it would be more  
suitable to the subject in hand to give 
to the dialogue this perfection of form1
 or to adopt into the comic imitation   
all rhetorical and grammatical errors1  
and even physical imperfections of      
speech4 ,the frequent production1       
however1 of prose comedies in modern    
times has not been owing so much to this
 cause as to the ease and convenience of
 the author1 and in some degree also of 
the player4 ,i would1 however1 recommend
 to my countrymen1 the ,germans1 the    
diligent use of verse1 and even of      
rhyme1 in ,comedy2 for as our national  
,comedy is yet to be formed1 the whole  

composition1 by the greater strictness  
of the form1 would gain in keeping and  
appearance1 and we should be enabled at 
the very outset to guard against many   
important errors4 ,we have not yet      
attained such a mastery in this matter  
as will allow us to abandon ourselves to
 an agreeable negligence4  ,as we have  
pronounced the ,new ,comedy to be a     
mixed species1 formed out of comic and  
tragic1 poetic and prosaic elements1 it 
is evident that this species may        
comprise several subordinate kinds1     
according to the preponderance of one or
 other of the ingredients4 ,if the poet 
plays in a sportive humour with his own 
inventions1 the result is a farce2 if he
 confines himself to the ludicrous in   
situations and characters1 carefully    
avoiding all admixture of serious       
matter1 we have a pure comedy           
7lustspiel72 in proportion as           
earnestness prevails in the scope of the
 whole composition1 and in the sympathy 
and moral judgment it gives rise to1 the

 piece becomes what is called           
,instructive or ,sentimental ,comedy2   
and there is only another step to the   
familiar or domestic tragedy4 ,great    
stress has often been laid on the two   
last mentioned species as inventions    
entirely new1 and of great importance1  
and peculiar theories have been devised 
for them1 c4 ,in the lacrymose drama of 
,diderot1 which was afterwards so much  
decried1 the failure consisted          
altogether in that which was new2 the   
affectation of nature1 the pedantry of  
the domestic relations1 and the lavish  
use of pathos4 ,did we still possess the
 whole of the comic literature of the   
,greeks1 we should1 without doubt1 find 
in it the models of all these species1  
with this difference1 however1 that the 
clear head of the ,greeks assuredly     
never allowed them to fall into a       
chilling monotony1 but that they arrayed
 and tempered all in due proportion4    
,have not we1 even among the few pieces 
that remain to us1 the ,captives of     

,plautus1 which may be called a pathetic
 drama1 the ,step-,mother of ,terence1 a
 true family picture2 while the         
,amphitryo borders on the fantastic     
boldness of the ,old ,comedy1 and the   
,twin-,brothers 7,menaechmi7 is a wild  
piece of intrigue8 ,do we not find in   
all ,terence's plays serious1           
impassioned1 and touching passages8 ,we 
have only to call to mind the first     
scene of the ,heautontimorumenos4 ,from 
our point of view we hope in short to   
find a due place for all things4 ,we see
 here no distinct species1 but merely   
gradations in the tone of the           
composition1 which are marked by        
transitions more or less perceptible4   
,neither can we allow the common        
division into ,plays of ,character and  
,plays of ,intrigue1 to pass without    
limitation4 ,a good comedy ought always 
to be both1 otherwise it will be        
deficient either in body or animation4  
,sometimes1 however1 the one and        
sometimes the other will1 no doubt1     

preponderate4 ,the development of the   
comic characters requires situations to 
place them in strong contrast1 and these
 again can result from nothing but that 
crossing of purposes and events1 which1 
as ,i have already shown1 constitutes   
intrigue in the dramatic sense4 ,every  
one knows the meaning of intriguing in  
common life2 namely1 the leading others 
by cunning and dissimulation1 to        
further1 without their knowledge and    
against their will1 our own hidden      
designs4 ,in the drama both these       
significations coincide1 for the cunning
 of the one becomes a cross-purpose for 
the other4  ,when the characters are    
only slightly sketched1 so far merely as
 is necessary to account for the actions
 of the characters in this or that case2
 when also the incidents are so         
accumulated1 that little room is left   
for display of character2 when the plot 
is so wrought up1 that the motley tangle
 of misunderstandings and embarrassments
 seems every moment on the point of     

being loosened1 and yet the knot is only
 drawn tighter and tighter3 such a      
composition may well be called a ,play  
of ,intrigue4 ,the ,french critics have 
made it fashionable to consider this    
kind of play much below the so-called   
,play of ,character1 perhaps because    
they look too exclusively to how much of
 a play may be retained by us and       
carried home4 ,it is true1 the ,piece of
 ,intrigue1 in some degree1 ends at last
 in nothing3 but why should it not be   
occasionally allowable to divert oneself
 ingeniously1 without any ulterior      
object8 ,certainly1 a good comedy of    
this description requires much inventive
 wit3 besides the entertainment which we
 derive from the display of such        
acuteness and ingenuity1 the wonderful  
tricks and contrivances which are       
practised possess a great charm for the 
fancy1 as the success of many a ,spanish
 piece proves4  ,to the ,play of        
,intrigue it is objected1 that it       
deviates from the natural course of     

things1 that it is improbable4 ,we may  
admit the former without however        
admitting the latter4 ,the poet1 no     
doubt1 exhibits before us what is       
unexpected1 extraordinary1 and singular1
 even to incredibility2 and often he    
even sets out with a great              
improbability1 as1 for example1 the     
resemblance between two persons1 or a   
disguise which is not seen through2     
afterwards1 however1 all the incidents  
must have the appearance of truth1 and  
all the circumstances by means of which 
the affair takes so marvellous a turn1  
must be satisfactorily explained4 ,as in
 respect to the events which take place1
 the poet gives us but a light play of  
wit1 we are the more strict with him    
respecting the how by which they are    
brought about4  ,in the comedies which  
aim more at delineation of character1   
the dramatic personages must be         
skilfully grouped so as to throw light  
on each other's character4 ,this1       
however1 is very apt to degenerate into 

too systematic a method1 each character 
being regularly matched with its        
symmetrical opposite1 and thereby an    
unnatural appearance is given to the    
whole4 ,nor are those comedies deserving
 of much praise1 in which the rest of   
the characters are introduced only1 as  
it were1 to allow the principal one to  
go through all his different probations2
 especially when that character consists
 of nothing but an opinion1 or a habit  
7for instance1 ,l',optimiste1 ,le       
,distrait71 as if an individual could   
thus be made up entirely of one single  
peculiarity1 and must not rather be on  
all sides variously modified and        
affected4  ,what was the sportive ideal 
of human nature in the ,old ,comedy ,i  
have already shown4 ,now as the ,new    
,comedy had to give to its              
representation a resemblance to a       
definite reality1 it could not indulge  
in such studied and arbitrary           
exaggeration as the old did4 ,it was1   
therefore1 obliged to seek for other    

sources of comic amusement1 which lie   
nearer the province of earnestness1 and 
these it found in a more accurate and   
thorough delineation of character4  ,in 
the characters of the ,new ,comedy1     
either the ,comic of ,observation or the
 ,self-,conscious and ,confessed ,comic1
 will be found to prevail4 ,the former  
constitutes the more refined1 or what is
 called ,high ,comedy1 and the latter   
,low ,comedy or ,farce4  ,but to explain
 myself more distinctly3 there are      
laughable peculiarities1 follies1 and   
obliquities1 of which the possessor     
himself is unconscious1 or which1 if he 
does at all perceive them1 he studiously
 endeavours to conceal1 as being        
calculated to injure him in the opinion 
of others4 ,such persons consequently do
 not give themselves out for what they  
actually are2 their secret escapes from 
them unwittingly1 or against their will4
 ,rightly1 therefore1 to portray such   
characters1 the poet must lend us his   
own peculiar talent for observation1    

that we may fully understand them4 ,his 
art consists in making the character    
appear through slight hints and stolen  
glimpses1 and in so placing the         
spectator1 that whatever delicacy of    
observation it may require1 he can      
hardly fail to see through them4  ,there
 are other moral defects1 which are     
beheld by their possessor with a certain
 degree of satisfaction1 and which he   
even makes it a principle not to get rid
 of1 but to cherish and preserve4 ,of   
this kind is all that1 without selfish  
pretensions1 or hostile inclinations1   
merely originates in the preponderance  
of the animal being4 ,this may1 without 
doubt1 be united to a high degree of    
intellect1 and when such a person       
applies his mental powers to the        
consideration of his own character1     
laughs at himself1 confesses his        
failings or endeavours to reconcile     
others to them1 by setting them in a    
droll light1 we have then an instance of
 the ,self- ,conscious ,comic ,this     

species always supposes a certain inward
 duality of character1 and the superior 
half1 which rallies and laughs at the   
other1 has in its tone and occupation a 
near affinity to the comic poet himself4
 ,he occasionally delivers over his     
functions entirely to this              
representative1 allowing him studiously 
to overcharge the picture which he draws
 of himself1 and to enter into a tacit  
understanding with the spectators1 that 
he and they are to turn the other       
characters into ridicule4 ,we have in   
this way the ,comedy of ,caprice1 which 
generally produces a powerful effect1   
however much critics may depreciate it4 
,in it the spirit of the ,old ,comedy is
 still at work4 ,the privileged         
merry-maker1 who1 under different names1
 has appeared on almost all stages1     
whose part is at one time a display of  
shrewd wit1 and at another of coarse    
clownishness1 has inherited something of
 the licentious enthusiasm1 but without 
the rights and privileges of the free   

and unrestrained writers of the ,old    
,comedy4 ,could there be a stronger     
proof that the ,old ,comedy1 which we   
have described as the original species1 
was not a mere ,grecian peculiarity1 but
 had its root and principle in the very 
nature of things8  ,to keep the         
spectators in a mirthful tone of mind   
,comedy must hold them as much as       
possible aloof from all moral           
appreciation of its personages1 and from
 all deep interest in their fortunes1   
for in both these cases an entrance will
 infallibly be given to seriousness4    
,how then does the poet avoid agitating 
the moral feeling1 when the actions he  
represents are of such a nature as must 
give rise sometimes to disgust and      
contempt1 and sometimes to esteem and   
love8 ,by always keeping within the     
province of the understanding1 he       
contrasts men with men as mere physical 
beings1 just to measure on each other   
their powers1 of course their mental    
powers as well as others1 nay1 even more

 especially4 ,in this respect ,comedy   
bears a very near affinity to ,fable3 in
 the ,fable we have animals endowed with
 reason1 and in ,comedy we have men     
serving their animal propensities with  
their understanding4 ,by animal         
propensities ,i mean sensuality1 or1 in 
a still more general sense1 self-love4  
,as heroism and self-sacrifice raise the
 character to a tragic elevation1 so the
 true comic personages are complete     
egotists4 ,this must1 however1 be       
understood with due limitation3 we do   
not mean that ,comedy never portrays the
 social instincts1 only that it         
invariably represents them as           
originating in the natural endeavour    
after our own happiness4 ,whenever the  
poet goes beyond this1 he leaves the    
comic tone4 ,it is not his purpose to   
direct our feelings to a sense of the   
dignity or meanness1 the innocence or   
corruption1 the goodness or baseness of 
the acting personages2 but to show us   
whether they act stupidly or wisely1    

adroitly or clumsily1 with silliness or 
ability4  ,examples will place the      
matter in the clearest light4 ,we       
possess an involuntary and immediate    
veneration for truth1 and this belongs  
to the innermost emotions of the moral  
sense4 ,a malignant lie1 which threatens
 mischievous consequences1 fills us with
 the highest indignation1 and belongs to
 ,tragedy4 ,why then are cunning and    
deceit admitted to be excellent as comic
 motives1 so long as they are used with 
no malicious purpose1 but merely to     
promote our self-love1 to extricate     
one's-self from a dilemma1 or to gain   
some particular object1 and from which  
no dangerous consequences are to be     
dreaded8 ,it is because the deceiver    
having already withdrawn from the sphere
 of morality1 truth and untruth are in  
themselves indifferent to him1 and are  
only considered in the light of means2  
and so we entertain ourselves merely    
with observing how great an expenditure 
of sharpness and ready-wittedness is    

necessary to serve the turn of a        
character so little exalted4 ,still more
 amusing is it when the deceiver is     
caught in his own snare2 for instance1  
when he is to keep up a lie1 but has a  
bad memory4 ,on the other hand1 the     
mistake of the deceived party1 when not 
seriously dangerous1 is a comic         
situation1 and the more so in proportion
 as this error of the understanding     
arises from previous abuse of the mental
 powers1 from vanity1 folly1 or         
obliquity4 ,but above all when deceit   
and error cross one another1 and are by 
that means multiplied1 the comic        
situations produced are particularly    
excellent4 ,for instance1 two men meet  
with the intention of deceiving one     
another2 each however is forewarned and 
on his guard1 and so both go away       
deceived only in respect to the success 
of their deception4 ,or again1 one      
wishes to deceive another1 but          
unwittingly tells him the truth2 the    
other person1 however1 being suspicious1

 falls into the snare1 merely from being
 over-much1 on his guard4 ,we might in  
this way compose a sort of comic        
grammar1 which should show how the      
separate motives are to be entangled one
 with another1 with continually         
increasing effect1 up to the most       
artificial complication4 ,it might also 
point out how that tangle of            
misunderstanding which constitutes a    
,comedy of ,intrigue is by no means so  
contemptible a part of the comic art1 as
 the advocates of the fine-spun ,comedy 
of ,character are pleased to assert4    
,aristotle describes the laughable as an
 imperfection1 an impropriety which is  
not productive of any essential harm4   
,excellently said6 for from the moment  
that we entertain a real compassion for 
the characters1 all mirthful feeling is 
at an end4 ,comic misfortune must not go
 beyond an embarrassment1 which is to be
 set right at last1 or at most1 a       
deserved humiliation4 ,of this          
description are corporeal means of      

education applied to grown people1 which
 our finer1 or at least more fastidious 
age1 will not tolerate on the stage1    
although ,molire1 ,holberg1 and other   
masters1 have frequently availed        
themselves of them4 ,the comic effect   
arises from our having herein a pretty  
obvious demonstration of the mind's     
dependence on external things3 we have1 
as it were1 motives assuming a palpable 
form4 ,in ,comedy these chastisements   
hold the same place that violent deaths1
 met with heroic magnanimity1 do in     
,tragedy4 ,here the resolution remains  
unshaken amid all the terrors of        
annihilation2 the man perishes but his  
principles survive2 there the corporeal 
existence remains1 but the sentiments   
suffer an instantaneous change4  ,as    
then ,comedy must place the spectator in
 a point of view altogether different   
from that of moral appreciation1 with   
what right can moral instruction be     
demanded of ,comedy1 with what ground   
can it be expected8 ,when we examine    

more closely the moral apophthegms of   
the ,greek comic writers1 we find that  
they are all of them maxims of          
experience4 ,it is not1 however1 from   
experience that we gain a knowledge of  
our duties1 of which conscience gives us
 an immediate conviction2 experience can
 only enlighten us with respect to what 
is profitable or detrimental4 ,the      
instruction of ,comedy does not turn on 
the dignity of the object proposed but  
on the sufficiency of the means         
employed4 ,it is1 as has been already   
said1 the doctrine of prudence2 the     
morality of consequences and not of     
motives4 ,morality1 in its genuine      
acceptation1 is essentially allied to   
the spirit of ,tragedy4  ,many          
philosophers have on this account       
reproached ,comedy with immorality1 and 
among others1 ,rousseau1 with much      
eloquence1 in his ,epistle on the       
,drama4 ,the aspect of the actual course
 of things in the world is1 no doubt1   
far from edifying2 it is not1 however1  

held up in ,comedy as a model for       
imitation1 but as a warning and         
admonition4 ,in the doctrine of morals  
there is an applied or practical part3  
it may be called the ,art of ,living4   
,whoever has no knowledge of the world  
is perpetually in danger of making a    
wrong application of moral principles to
 individual cases1 and1 so with the very
 best intentions in the world1 may      
occasion much mischief both to himself  
and others4 ,comedy is intended to      
sharpen our powers of discrimination1   
both of persons and situations2 to make 
us shrewder2 and this is its true and   
only possible morality4  ,so much for   
the determination of the general idea1  
which must serve as our clue in the     
examination of the merits of the        
individual poets4     ,,lecture ,,xiv4  
,plautus and ,terence as ,imitators of  
the ,greeks1 here examined and          
characterized in the absence of the     
,originals they copied--,motives of the 
,athenian ,comedy from ,manners and     

,society--,portrait-,statues of two     
,comedians4   ,on the little of the ,new
 ,comedy of the ,greeks that has reached
 us1 either in fragments or through the 
medium of ,roman imitations1 all ,i have
 to say may be comprised in a few words4
  ,in this department ,greek literature 
was extremely rich3 the mere list of the
 comic writers whose works are lost1 and
 of the names of their works1 so far as 
they are known to us1 makes of itself no
 inconsiderable dictionary4 ,although   
the ,new ,comedy developed itself and   
flourished only in the short interval   
between the end of the ,peloponnesian   
war and the first successors of         
,alexander the ,great1 yet the stock of 
pieces amounted to thousands2 but time  
has made such havoc in this             
superabundance of talented and ingenious
 works1 that nothing remains in the     
original but a number of detached       
fragments1 of which many are so         
disfigured as to be unintelligible1 and1
 in the ,latin1 about twenty            

translations or recasts of ,greek       
originals by ,plautus1 and six by       
,terence4 ,here is a fitting task for   
the redintegrative labours of criticism1
 to put together all the fragmentary    
traces which we possess1 in order to    
form from them something like a just    
estimate and character of what is lost4 
,the chief requisites in an undertaking 
of this kind1 ,i will take upon myself  
to point out4 ,the fragments and moral  
maxims of the comic writers are1 in     
their versification and language1       
distinguished by extreme purity1        
elegance1 and accuracy2 moreover1 the   
tone of society which speaks in them    
breathes a certain ,attic grace4 ,the   
,latin comic poets1 on the other hand1  
are negligent in their versification2   
they trouble themselves very little     
about syllabic quantity1 and the very   
idea of it is almost lost amidst their  
many metrical licences4 ,their language 
also1 at least that of ,plautus1 is     
deficient in cultivation and polish4    

,several learned ,romans1 and ,varro    
among others1 have1 it is true1 highly  
praised the style of this poet1 but then
 we must make the due distinction       
between philological and poetical       
approbation4 ,plautus and ,terence were 
among the most ancient ,roman writers1  
and belonged to an age when a           
book-language had hardly yet an         
existence1 and when every phrase was    
caught up fresh from the life4 ,this    
nave simplicity had its peculiar charms 
for the later ,romans of the age of     
learned cultivation3 it was1 however1   
rather the gift of nature than the fruit
 of poetical art4 ,horace set himself   
against this excessive partiality1 and  
asserted that ,plautus and the other    
comic poets threw off their pieces      
negligently1 and wrote them in the      
utmost haste1 that they might be the    
sooner paid for them4 ,we may safely    
affirm1 therefore1 that in the graces   
and elegances of execution1 the ,greek  
poets have always lost in the ,latin    

imitations4 ,these we must1 in          
imagination1 retranslate into the       
finished elegance which we perceive in  
the ,greek fragments4 ,moreover1        
,plautus and ,terence made many changes 
in the general plan1 and these could    
hardly be improvements4 ,the former at  
times omitted whole scenes and          
characters1 and the latter made         
additions1 and occasionally ran two     
plays into one4 ,was this done with an  
artistic design1 and were they actually 
desirous of excelling their ,grecian    
predecessors in the structure of their  
pieces8 ,i doubt it4 ,plautus was       
perpetually running out into            
diffuseness1 and he was obliged to      
remedy in some other way the lengthening
 which this gave to the original2 the   
imitations of ,terence1 on the other    
hand1 from his lack of invention1 turned
 out somewhat meagre1 and he filled up  
the gaps with materials borrowed from   
other pieces4 ,even his contemporaries  
reproached him with having falsified or 

corrupted a number of ,greek pieces1 for
 the purpose of making out of them a few
 ,latin ones4  ,plautus and ,terence are
 generally mentioned as writers in every
 respect original4 ,in ,romans this was 
perhaps pardonable3 they possessed but  
little of the true poetic spirit1 and   
their poetical literature owed its      
origin1 for the most part1 first to     
translation1 then to free imitation1 and
 finally to appropriation and new       
modelling1 of the ,greek4 ,with them1   
therefore1 a particular sort of         
adaptation passed for originality4 ,thus
 we find1 from ,terence's apologetic    
prologues1 that they had so lowered the 
notion of plagiarism1 that he was       
accused of it1 because he had made use  
of matter which had been already adapted
 from the ,greek4 ,as we cannot1        
therefore1 consider these writers in the
 light of creative artists1 and since   
consequently they are only important to 
us in so far as we may by their means   
become acquainted with the shape of the 

,greek ,new ,comedy1 ,i will here insert
 the few remarks ,i have to make on     
their character and differences1 and    
then return to the ,greek writers of the
 ,new ,comedy4  ,among the ,greeks1     
poets and artists were at all times held
 in honour and estimation2 among the    
,romans1 on the contrary1 polite        
literature was at first cultivated by   
men of the lowest rank1 by needy        
foreigners1 and even by slaves4 ,plautus
 and ,terence1 who closely followed each
 other in time1 and whose lifetime      
belongs to the last years of the second 
,punic war1 and to the interval between 
the second and third1 were of the lowest
 rank3 the former1 at best a poor day   
labourer1 and the latter1 a             
,carthaginian slave1 and afterwards a   
freed man4 ,their fortunes1 however1    
were very different4 ,plautus1 when he  
was not employed in writing comedies1   
was fain to hire himself out to do the  
work of a beast of burthen in a mill2   
,terence was domesticated with the elder

 ,scipio and his bosom friend ,laelius1 
who deigned to admit him to such        
familiarity1 that he fell under the     
honourable imputation of being assisted 
in the composition of his pieces by     
these noble ,romans1 and it was even    
said that they allowed their own labours
 to pass under his name4 ,the habits of 
their lives are perceptible in their    
respective modes of writing3 the bold1  
coarse style of ,plautus1 and his famous
 jests1 betray his intercourse with the 
vulgar2 in that of ,terence1 we discern 
the traces of good society4 ,they are   
further distinguished by their choice of
 matter4 ,plautus generally inclines to 
the farcical1 to overwrought1 and often 
disgusting drollery2 ,terence prefers   
the more delicate shades of             
characterization1 and1 avoiding         
everything like exaggeration1 approaches
 the seriously instructive and          
sentimental kind4 ,some of the pieces of
 ,plautus are taken from ,diphilus and  
,philemon1 but there is reason to       

believe that he added a considerable    
degree of coarseness to his originals2  
from whom he derived the others is      
unknown1 unless1 perhaps1 the assertion 
of ,horace1 ,it is said that ,plautus   
took for his model the ,sicilian        
,epicharmus1 will warrant the conjecture
 that he borrowed the ,amphitryo1 a     
piece which is quite different in kind  
from all his others1 and which he       
himself calls a ,tragi-comedy1 from that
 old ,doric comedian1 who we know       
employed himself chiefly on mythological
 subjects4 ,among the pieces of         
,terence1 whose copies1 with the        
exception of certain changes of the plan
 and structure1 are probably much more  
faithful in detail than those of the    
other1 we find two from ,apollodorus1   
and the rest from ,menander4 ,julius    
,caesar has honoured ,terence with some 
verses1 in which he calls him a half    
,menander1 praising the smoothness of   
his style1 and only lamenting that he   
has lost a certain comic vigour which   

marked his original4  ,this naturally   
brings us back to the ,grecian masters4 
,diphilus1 ,philemon1 ,apollodorus1 and 
,menander1 are certainly four of the    
most celebrated names among them4 ,the  
palm1 for elegance1 delicacy1 and       
sweetness1 is with one voice given to   
,menander1 although ,philemon frequently
 carried off the prize before him1      
probably because he studied more the    
taste of the multitude1 or because he   
availed himself of adscititious means of
 popularity4 ,this was at least         
insinuated by ,menander1 who when he met
 his rival one day said to him1 ,pray1  
,philemon1 dost thou not blush when thou
 gainest a victory over me8  ,menander  
flourished after the times of ,alexander
 the ,great1 and was the contemporary of
 ,demetrius ,phalereus4 ,he was         
instructed in philosophy by             
,theophrastus1 but his own opinions     
inclined him to that of ,epicurus1 and  
he boasted in an epigram1 that if       
,themistocles freed his country from    

slavery1 ,epicurus freed it from        
irrationality4 ,he was fond of the      
choicest sensual enjoyments3 ,phaedrus1 
in an unfinished tale1 describes him to 
us as even in his exterior1 an          
effeminate voluptuary2 and his amour    
with the courtesan ,glycera is          
notorious4 ,the ,epicurean philosophy1  
which placed the supreme happiness of   
life in the benevolent affections1 but  
neither spurred men on to heroic action1
 nor excited any sense of it in the     
mind1 could hardly fail to be well      
received among the ,greeks1 after the   
loss of their old and glorious freedom3 
with their cheerful mild way of         
thinking1 it was admirably calculated to
 console them4 ,it is perhaps the most  
suitable for the comic poet1 as the     
stoical philosophy is for the tragedian4
 ,the object of the comedian is merely  
to produce mitigated impressions1 and by
 no means to excite a strong indignation
 at human frailties4 ,on the other hand1
 we may easily comprehend why the       

,greeks conceived a passion for the ,new
 ,comedy at the very period when they   
lost their freedom1 as it diverted them 
from sympathy with the course of human  
affairs in general1 and with political  
events1 and absorbed their attention    
wholly in domestic and personal         
concerns4  ,the ,grecian theatre was    
originally formed for higher walks of   
the drama2 and we do not attempt to     
dissemble the inconveniences and        
disadvantages which its structure must  
have occasioned to ,comedy4 ,the frame  
was too large1 and the picture could not
 fill it4 ,the ,greek stage was open to 
the heavens1 and it exhibited little or 
nothing of the interior of the houses   
,footnote3 ,to serve this purpose       
recourse was had to the encyclema1      
which1 no doubt1 in the commencement of 
the ,clouds1 exhibited ,strepsiades and 
his son sleeping on their beds4         
,moreover1 ,julius ,pollux mentions     
among the decorations of ,new ,comedy1 a
 sort of tent1 hut1 or shed1 adjoining  

to the middle edifice1 with a doorway1  
originally a stable1 but afterwards     
applicable to many purposes4 ,in the    
,sempstresses of ,antiphanes1 it        
represented a sort of workshop4 ,here1  
or in the encyclema1 entertainments were
 given1 which in the old comedies       
sometimes took place before the eyes of 
the spectators4 ,with the southern      
habits of the ancients1 it was not1     
perhaps1 so unnatural to feast with open
 doors1 as it would be in the north of  
,europe4 ,but no modern commentator has 
yet1 so far as ,i know1 endeavoured to  
illustrate in a proper manner the       
theatrical arrangement of the plays of  
,plautus and ,terence4 ,see the ,fourth 
,lecture1 c41 and the ,appendix on the  
,scenic ,arrangement of the ,greek      
,theatre44 ,the ,new ,comedy was        
therefore under the necessity of placing
 its scene in the street4 ,this gave    
rise to many inconveniences2 thus people
 frequently come out of their houses to 
tell their secrets to one another in    

public4 ,it is true1 the poets were thus
 also saved the necessity of changing   
the scene1 by supposing that the        
families concerned in the action lived  
in the same neighbourhood4 ,it may be   
urged in their justification1 that the  
,greeks1 like all other southern        
nations1 lived a good deal out of their 
small private houses1 in the open air4  
,the chief disadvantage with which this 
construction of the stage was attended1 
was the limitation of the female parts4 
,with that due observance of custom     
which the essence of the ,new ,comedy   
required1 the exclusion of unmarried    
women and young maidens in general was  
an inevitable consequence of the retired
 life of the female sex in ,greece4     
,none appear but aged matrons1 female   
slaves1 or girls of light reputation4   
,hence1 besides the loss of many        
agreeable situations1 arose this further
 inconvenience1 that frequently the     
whole piece turns on a marriage with1 or
 a passion for1 a young woman1 who is   

never once seen4  ,athens1 where the    
fictitious1 as well as the actual1 scene
 was generally placed1 was the centre of
 a small territory1 and in no wise to be
 compared with our capital cities1      
either in extent or population4         
,republican equality admitted of no     
marked distinction of ranks2 there was  
no proper nobility3 all were alike      
citizens1 richer or poorer1 and for the 
most part had no other occupation than  
the management of their several         
properties4 ,hence the ,attic ,new      
,comedy could not well admit of the     
contrasts arising from diversity of tone
 and mental culture2 it generally moves 
within a sort of middle rank1 and has   
something citizen-like1 nay1 if ,i may  
so say1 something of the manners of a   
small town about it1 which is not at all
 to the taste of those who would have   
comedy to portray the manners of a      
court1 and the refinement or corruption 
of monarchical capitals4  ,with respect 
to the intercourse between the two      

sexes1 the ,greeks knew nothing of the  
gallantry of modern ,europe1 nor the    
union of love with enthusiastic         
veneration4 ,all was sensual passion or 
marriage4 ,the latter was1 by the       
constitution and manners of the ,greeks1
 much more a matter of duty1 or an      
affair of convenience1 than of          
inclination4 ,the laws were strict only 
in one point1 the preservation of the   
pure national extraction of the         
children1 which alone was legitimate4   
,the right of citizenship was a great   
prerogative1 and the more valuable the  
smaller the number of citizens1 which   
was not allowed to increase beyond a    
certain point4 ,hence marriages with    
foreign women were invalid4 ,the society
 of a wife1 whom1 in most cases1 the    
husband had not even seen before his    
marriage with her1 and who passed her   
whole life within the walls of her      
house1 could not afford him much        
entertainment2 this was sought among    
women who had forfeited all title to    

strict respect1 and who were generally  
foreigners without property1 or freed   
slaves1 and the like4 ,with women of    
this description the easy morality of   
the ,greeks allowed of the greatest     
license1 especially to young unmarried  
men4 ,the ancient writers1 therefore1 of
 the ,new ,comedy paint this mode of    
life with much less disguise than we    
think decorous4 ,their comedies1 like   
all comedies in the world1 frequently   
end with marriages 7it seems this       
catastrophe brings seriousness along    
with it72 but the marriage is often     
entered upon merely as a means of       
propitiating a father incensed at the   
irregularities of some illicit amour4   
,it sometimes happens1 however1 that the
 amour is changed into a lawful marriage
 by means of a discovery that the       
supposed foreigner or slave is by birth 
an ,athenian citizen4 ,it is worthy of  
remark1 that the fruitful mind of the   
very poet who carried the ,old ,comedy  
to perfection1 put forth also the first 

germ of the ,new4 ,cocalus1 the last    
piece which ,aristophanes composed1     
contained a seduction1 a recognition1   
and all the leading circumstances which 
were afterwards employed by ,menander in
 his comic pieces4  ,from what has been 
said1 it is easy to overlook the whole  
round of characters2 nay1 they are so   
few1 and so perpetually recur1 that they
 may be almost all enumerated4 ,the     
austere and stingy1 or the mild easy    
father1 the latter not unfrequently     
under the dominion of his wife1 and     
making common cause with his son against
 her2 the housewife either loving and   
sensible1 or scolding and domineering1  
and presuming on the accession she has  
brought to the family property2 the     
young man giddy and extravagant1 but    
frank and amiable1 who even in a passion
 sensual at its commencement is capable 
of true attachment2 the girl of light   
character1 either thoroughly depraved1  
vain1 cunning1 and selfish1 or still    
good-hearted and susceptible of better  

feelings2 the simple and clownish1 and  
the cunning slave who assists his young 
master in cheating his old father1 and  
by all manner of knavish tricks procures
 him money for the gratification of his 
passions2 7as this character plays a    
principal part1 ,i shall shortly make   
some further observations on it27 the   
flatterer or accommodating parasite1    
who1 for the sake of a good meal1 is    
ready to say or do any thing that may be
 required of him the sycophant1 a man   
whose business it was to set quietly    
disposed people by the ears1 and stir up
 law-suits1 for the conduct of which he 
offered his services2 the gasconading   
soldier1 returned from foreign service1 
generally cowardly and simple1 but who  
assumes airs and boasts of his exploits 
abroad2 and lastly1 a servant or        
pretended mother1 who preaches very     
indifferent morals to the young girl    
entrusted to her care2 and the          
slave-dealer1 who speculates on the     
extravagant passions of young people1   

and regards nothing but his own         
pecuniary advantage4 ,the two last      
characters1 with their revolting        
coarseness1 are1 to our feelings1 a real
 blot in the ,greek ,comedy2 but its    
very subject-matter rendered it         
impossible for it to dispense with them4
  ,the knavish servant is generally also
 the buffoon1 who takes pleasure in     
avowing1 and even exaggerating1 his own 
sensuality and want of principle1 and   
who jokes at the expense of the other   
characters1 and occasionally even       
addresses the pit4 ,this is the origin  
of the comic servants of the moderns1   
but ,i am inclined to doubt whether1    
with our manners1 there is propriety and
 truth in introducing such characters4  
,the ,greek servant was a slave1 subject
 for life to the arbitrary caprice of   
his master1 and frequently the victim of
 the most severe treatment4 ,a man1 who1
 thus deprived by the constitution of   
society of all his natural rights1 makes
 trick and artifice his trade may well  

be pardoned3 he is in a state of war    
with his oppressors1 and cunning is his 
natural weapon4 ,but in our times1 a    
servant1 who is free to choose his      
situation and his master1 is a good-    
for-nothing scoundrel if he assists the 
son to deceive the father4 ,with        
respect1 on the other hand1 to the open 
avowal of fondness of good eating and   
drinking which is employed to give a    
comic stamp to servants and persons in a
 low rank of life1 it may still be used 
without impropriety3 of those to whom   
life has granted but few privileges it  
does not require much2 and they may     
boldly own the vulgarity of their       
inclinations1 without giving any shock  
to our moral feelings4 ,the better the  
condition of servants in real life1 the 
less adapted are they for the stage2 and
 this at least redounds to the praise of
 our more humane age1 that in our family
 picture tales we meet with servants who
 are right worthy characters1 better    
fitted to excite our sympathy than our  

derision4  ,the repetition of the same  
characters was as it were acknowledged  
by the ,greek comic writers1 by their   
frequent use of the same names1 and     
those too in part expressive of         
character4 ,in this they did better than
 many comic poets of modern times1 who1 
for the sake of novelty of character1   
torture themselves to attain complete   
individuality1 by which efforts no other
 effect generally is produced than that 
of diverting our attention from the main
 business of the piece1 and dissipating 
it on accessory circumstances4 ,and then
 after all they imperceptibly fall back 
again into the old well-known character4
 ,it is better to delineate the         
characters at first with a certain      
breadth1 and to leave the actor room to 
touch them up more accurately1 and to   
add the nicer and more personal traits1 
according to the requirements of each   
composition4 ,in this respect the use of
 masks admits of justification2 which1  
like many other peculiarities of the    

ancient theatre1 7such as the acting in 
the open air17 were still retained1     
though originally designed for other    
departments of the drama1 and though    
they seem a greater incongruity in the  
,new ,comedy than in the ,old1 and in   
,tragedy4 ,but certainly it was         
unsuitable to the spirit of the ,new1   
that1 while in other respects the       
representation approached nature with a 
more exact1 nay1 illusive resemblance1  
the masks deviated more from it than in 
the ,old1 being overcharged in the      
features1 and almost to caricature4     
,however singular this may appear1 it is
 too expressly and formally attested to 
admit of a doubt4 ,footnote3 ,see       
,platonius1 in ,aristoph4 cur4 ,kster1  
p4 xi4 ,as they were prohibited from    
bringing portraits of real persons on   
the stage they were1 after the loss of  
their freedom1 very careful lest they   
should accidentally stumble upon any    
resemblance1 and especially to any of   
their ,macedonian rulers2 and in this   

way they endeavoured to secure          
themselves against the danger4 ,yet the 
exaggeration in question was hardly     
without its meaning4 ,accordingly we    
find it stated1 that an unsymmetrical   
profile1 with one eyebrow drawn up and  
the other down1 denoted an idle1        
inquisitive1 and intermeddling busy-    
body1 ,footnote3 ,see ,jul4 ,pollux1 in 
the section of comic masks4 ,compare    
,platonius as above1 and ,quinctilian1  
#a4 xi4 c4 #c4 ,the supposed wonderful  
discovery of ,voltaire respecting tragic
 masks1 which ,i mentioned in the fourth
 ,lecture1 will hardly be forgotten4 and
 we may in fact remark that men1 who are
 in the habit of looking at things with 
anxious exact observation1 are apt to   
acquire distortions of this kind4       
,among other peculiarities the masks in 
comedy have this advantage1 that from   
the unavoidable repetition of the same  
characters the spectator knew at once   
what he had to expect4 ,i once witnessed
 at ,weimar a representation of the     

,adelphi of ,terence1 entirely in       
ancient costume1 which1 under the       
direction of ,goethe1 furnished us a    
truly ,attic evening4 ,the actors used  
partial masks1 cleverly fitted to the   
real countenance1 ,footnote3 ,this also 
was not unknown to the ancients1 as it  
proved by many comic masks having in the
 place of the mouth a circular opening  
of considerable width1 through which the
 mouth and the adjoining features were  
allowed to appear2 and which1 with their
 distorted movements1 must have produced
 a highly ludicrous effect1 from the    
contrast in the fixed distortion of the 
rest of the countenance4 and            
notwithstanding the smallness of the    
theatre1 ,i did not find that they were 
in any way prejudicial to vivacity4 ,the
 mask was peculiarly favourable for the 
jokes of the roguish slave3 his uncouth 
physiognomy1 as well as his apparel1    
stamped him at once as a man of a       
peculiar race1 7as in truth the slaves  
were1 partly even by extraction17 and he

 might therefore well be allowed to act 
and speak differently from the rest of  
the characters4  ,out of the limited    
range of their civil and domestic life1 
and out of the simple theme of the      
characters above mentioned1 the         
invention of the ,greek comic writers   
contrived to extract an inexhaustible   
multitude of variations1 and yet1 what  
is deserving of high praise1 even in    
that on which they grounded their       
development and catastrophe1 they ever  
remained true to their national customs4
  ,the circumstances of which they      
availed themselves for this purpose were
 generally the following3--,greece      
consisted of a number of small separate 
states1 lying round about ,athens on the
 coast and islands4 ,navigation was     
frequent1 piracy not unusual1 which1    
moreover1 was directed against human    
beings in order to supply the           
slave-market4 ,thus1 even free-born     
children might be kidnapped4 ,not       
unfrequently1 too1 they were exposed by 

their own parents1 in virtue of their   
legal rights1 and being unexpectedly    
saved from destruction1 were afterwards 
restored to their families4 ,all this   
prepared a ground-work for the          
recognitions in ,greek ,comedy between  
parents and children1 brothers and      
sisters1 c41 which as a means of        
bringing about the dnouement1 was       
borrowed by the comic from the tragic   
writers4 ,the complicated intrigue is   
carried on within the represented       
action1 but the singular and improbable 
accident on which it is founded1 is     
removed to a distance both of time and  
place1 so that the comedy1 though taken 
from every-day life1 has still1 in some 
degree1 a marvellous romantic           
back-ground4  ,the ,greek ,comic writers
 were acquainted with ,comedy in all its
 extent1 and employed themselves with   
equal diligence on all its varieties1   
the ,farce1 the ,play of ,intrigue1 and 
the various kinds of the ,play of       
,character1 from caricature to the      

nicest delicacy of delineation1 and even
 the serious or sentimental drama4 ,they
 possessed moreover a most enchanting   
species1 of which1 however1 no examples 
are now remaining4 ,from the titles of  
their pieces1 and other indications1 it 
appears they sometimes introduced       
historical personages1 as for instance  
the poetess ,sappho1 with ,alcaeus's and
 ,anacreon's love for her1 or her own   
passion for ,phaon2 the story of her    
leap from the ,leucadian rock owes1     
perhaps1 its origin1 solely to the      
invention of the comic writers4 ,to     
judge from their subject-matter1 these  
comedies must have approached to our    
romantic drama2 and the mixture of      
beautiful passion with the tranquil     
grace of the ordinary comic             
representation must undoubtedly have    
been very attractive4  ,in the above    
observations ,i have1 ,i conceive1 given
 a faithful picture of the ,greek       
,comedy4 ,i have not attempted to       
disguise either its defects or its      

limitation4 ,the ancient ,tragedy and   
the ,old ,comedy are inimitable1        
unapproachable1 and stand alone in the  
whole range of the history of art4 ,but 
in the ,new ,comedy we may venture to   
measure our strength with the ,greeks1  
and even attempt to surpass them4       
,whenever we descend from the ,olympus  
of true poetry to the common earth1 in  
other words1 when once we mix the prose 
of a definite reality with the ideal    
creations of fancy1 the success of      
productions is no longer determined by  
the genius alone1 and a feeling for art1
 but the more or less favourable nature 
of circumstances4 ,the figures of the   
gods of the ,grecian sculptors stand    
before us as the perfect models for all 
ages4 ,the noble occupation of giving an
 ideal perfection to the human form     
having once been entered upon by the    
fancy1 all that is left even to an equal
 degree of inspiration is but to make a 
repetition of the same attempts4 ,in the
 execution1 however1 of personal and    

individual resemblances1 the modern     
statuary is the rival of the ancient3   
but this is no pure creation of art2    
observation must here come in3 and      
whatever degree of science1 profundity1 
and taste may be displayed in the       
execution1 the artist is still tied down
 to the object which is actually before 
him4  ,in the admirable portrait-statues
 of two of the most celebrated comic    
writers1 ,menander and ,posidippus 7in  
the ,vatican71 the physiognomy of the   
,greek ,new ,comedy appears to me to be 
almost visibly and personally expressed6
 ,clad in the most simple dress1 and    
holding a roll in their hands1 they are 
sitting in arm-chairs with all the ease 
and self- possession which mark the     
conscious superiority of the master2 and
 in that maturity of age which befits   
the undisturbed impartial observation   
which is requisite for ,comedy1 but yet 
hale and active1 and free from all      
symptoms of decay4 ,we recognise in them
 that corporeal vigour1 which testifies 

at once to equal soundness both of mind 
and of temper2 no lofty enthusiasm1 but 
at the same time nothing of folly or    
extravagance2 rather does a sage        
seriousness dwell on a brow wrinkled    
indeed1 though not with care1 but with  
the exercise of thought2 while in the   
quick-searching eye1 and in the mouth   
half curling into a smile1 we have the  
unmistakable indications of a light     
playful irony4     ,,lecture ,,xv4      
,roman ,theatre--,native kinds3         
,atellane ,fables1 ,mimes1 ,comoedia    
,togata-- ,greek ,tragedy transplanted  
to ,rome--,tragic ,authors of a former  
,epoch1 and of the ,augustan ,age--,idea
 of a ,national ,roman ,tragedy--,causes
 of the want of success of the ,romans  
in ,tragedy--,seneca4   ,the examination
 of the nature of the ,drama in general1
 as well as the consideration of the    
,greek theatre1 which was as peculiar in
 its origin as in its maturity it was   
actually perfect1 have hitherto alone   
occupied our attention4 ,our notice of  

the dramatic literature of most of the  
other nations1 which principally call   
for consideration1 must be marked with  
greater brevity2 and yet1 we are not    
afraid that we shall be accused in      
either case of either disproportionate  
length or conciseness4  ,and first1 with
 respect to the ,romans1 whose theatre  
is in every way immediately attached to 
that of the ,greeks1 we have only1 as it
 were1 to notice one great gap1 which   
partly arises from their own want of    
creative powers in this department1 and 
partly from the loss1 with the exception
 of a few fragments1 of all that they   
did produce in it4 ,the only works which
 have descended to us from the good     
classical times are those of ,plautus   
and ,terence1 whom ,i have already      
characterised as copyists of the        
,greeks4  ,poetry in general had no     
native growth in ,rome2 it was first    
artificially cultivated along with other
 luxuries in those later times when the 
original character of ,rome was being   

fast extinguished under an imitation of 
foreign manners4 ,in the ,latin we have 
an example of a language modelled into  
poetical expression1 altogether after   
foreign grammatical and metrical forms4 
,this imitation of the ,greek was not   
accomplished easily and without force3  
the ,graecising was carried even to the 
length of a clumsy intermixture of the  
two languages4 ,gradually only was the  
poetical style smoothed and softened1   
and in ,catullus we still perceive the  
last traces of its early harshness1     
which1 however1 are not without a       
certain rugged charm4 ,those            
constructions1 and especially those     
compounds which were too much at        
variance with the internal structure of 
the ,latin1 and failed to become        
agreeable to the ,roman ear1 were in    
time rejected1 and at length1 in the age
 of ,augustus1 the poets succeeded in   
producing the most agreeable combination
 of the peculiarities1 native and       
borrowed4 ,hardly1 however1 had the     

desired equilibrium been attained when a
 pause ensued2 all free development was 
checked1 and the poetical style1        
notwithstanding a seeming advance to    
greater boldness and learning1 was      
irrevocably confined within the round of
 already sanctioned modes of expression4
 ,thus the language of ,latin poetry    
flourished only within the short        
interval which elapsed between the      
period of its unfinished state and its  
second death2 and as to the spirit also 
of poetry1 it too fared no better4  ,to 
the invention of theatrical amusements  
the ,romans were not led from any desire
 to enliven the leisure of their        
festivals with such exhibitions as      
withdraw the mind from the cares and    
concerns of life2 but in their          
despondency under a desolating          
pestilence1 against which all remedies  
seemed unavailing1 they had recourse to 
the theatre1 as a means of appeasing the
 anger of the gods1 having previously   
been only acquainted with the exercises 

of the gymnasium and the games of the   
circus4 ,the histriones1 however1 whom  
for this purpose they summoned from     
,etruria1 were merely dancers1 who      
probably did not attempt any pantomimic 
dances1 but endeavoured to delight their
 audience by the agility of their       
movements4 ,their oldest spoken plays1  
the ,fabulae ,atellanae1 the ,romans    
borrowed from the ,osci1 the aboriginal 
inhabitants of ,italy4 ,with these      
saturae1 7so called because first they  
were improvisatory farces1 without      
dramatic connexion2 satura signifying a 
medley1 or mixture of every thing17 they
 were satisfied till ,livius            
,andronicus1 somewhat more than five    
hundred years after the foundation of   
,home1 began to imitate the ,greeks2 and
 the regular compositions of ,tragedy   
and the ,new ,comedy 7the ,old it was   
impossible to transplant7 were then1 for
 the first time1 introduced into ,rome4 
,thus the ,romans owed the first idea of
 a play to the ,etruscans1 of the       

effusions of a sportive humour to the   
,oscans1 and of a higher class of       
dramatic works to the ,greeks4 ,they    
displayed1 however1 more originality in 
the comic than in the tragic department4
 ,the ,oscans1 whose language soon      
ceasing to be spoken1 survived only in  
these farces1 were at least so near akin
 to the ,romans1 that their dialect was 
immediately understood by a ,roman      
audience3 for how else could the ,romans
 have derived any amusement from the    
,atellanae8 ,so completely did they     
domesticate this species of drama that  
,roman youths1 of noble families1       
enamoured of this entertainment1 used to
 exhibit it on their festivals2 on which
 account even the players who acted in  
the ,atellane fables for money enjoyed  
peculiar privileges1 being exempt from  
the infamy and exclusion from the tribes
 which attached to all other theatrical 
artists1 and were also excused from     
military service4  ,the ,romans had1    
besides1 their own ,mimes4 ,the foreign 

name of these little pieces would lead  
us to conclude that they bore a great   
affinity to the ,greek ,mimes2 they     
differed1 however1 from them            
considerably in form2 we know also that 
the manners portrayed in them had a     
local truth1 and that the subject-matter
 was not derived from ,greek            
compositions4  ,it is peculiar to       
,italy1 that from the earliest times its
 people have displayed a native talent  
for a merry1 amusing1 though very rude  
buffoonery1 in extemporary speeches and 
songs1 with accompanying appropriate    
gestures2 though it has seldom been     
coupled with true dramatic taste4 ,this 
latter assertion will be fully justified
 when we shall have examined all that   
has been accomplished in the higher     
walks of the ,drama in that country1    
down to the most recent times4 ,the     
former might be easily substantiated by 
a number of circumstances1 which1       
however1 would lead us too far from our 
object into the history of the          

,saturnalia and similar customs1 ,even  
of the wit which prevails in the        
dialogues of the ,pasquino and the      
,marforio and of their apposite and     
popular ridicule on passing events1 many
 traces are to be found even in the     
times of the ,emperors1 however little  
disposed they were to be indulgent to   
such liberties4 ,but what is more       
immediately connected with our present  
purpose is the conjecture--that in these
 ,mimes and ,atellane ,fables we have   
perhaps the first germ of the ,commedia 
dell' arte1 the improvisatory farce with
 standing masks4 ,a striking affinity   
between the latter and the ,atellanae   
consists in the employment of dialects  
to produce a ludicrous effect4 ,but how 
would ,harlequin and ,pulcinello be     
astonished were they to be told that    
they descended in a direct line from the
 buffoons of the ancient ,romans1 and   
even from the ,oscans6--,with what      
drollery would they requite the labours 
of the antiquarian who should trace     

their glorious pedigree to such a root6 
,from the figures on ,greek vases1 we   
know that the grotesque masks of the    
,old ,comedy bore a dress very much     
resembling theirs3 long trousers1 and a 
doublet with sleeves1 articles of dress 
which the ,greeks1 as well as the       
,romans1 never used except on the stage4
 ,even in the present day ,zanni is one 
of the names of ,harlequin2 and ,sannio 
in the ,latin farces was a buffoon1 who1
 according to the accounts of ancient   
writers1 had a shaven head1 and a dress 
patched together of gay parti- coloured 
pieces4 ,the exact resemblance of the   
figure of ,pulcinello is said to have   
been found among the frescoes of        
,pompeii4 ,if he came originally from   
,atella1 he is still mostly to be met   
with in the old land of his nativity4   
,the objection that these traditions    
could not well have been preserved      
during the cessation for so many        
centuries of all theatrical amusements1 
will be easily got over when we         

recollect the licences annually enjoyed 
at the ,carnival1 and the ,feasts of    
,fools in the middle ages4  ,the ,greek 
,mimes were dialogues in prose1 and not 
destined for the stage2 the ,roman were 
in verse1 were acted1 and often         
delivered extempore4 ,the most          
celebrated authors of this kind were    
,laberius and ,syrus1 contemporaries of 
,julius ,caesar4 ,the latter when       
dictator1 by an imperial request1       
compelled ,laberius1 a ,roman knight1 to
 appear publicly in his own ,mimes1     
although the scenic employment was      
branded with the loss of civil rights4  
,laberius complained of this in a       
prologue1 which is still extant1 and in 
which the painful feeling of annihilated
 self-respect is nobly and affectingly  
expressed4 ,we cannot well conceive how1
 in such a state of mind1 he could be   
capable of making ludicrous jokes1 nor  
how1 with so bitter an example of       
despotic degradation ,footnote3 ,what   
humiliation ,caesar would have inwardly 

felt1 could he have foreseen that1      
within a few generations1 ,nero1 his    
successor in absolute authority1 out of 
a lust for self-degradation1 would      
expose himself frequently to infamy in  
the same manner as he1 the first despot1
 had exposed a ,roman of the middle     
rank1 not without exciting a general    
feeling of indignation4 before their    
eyes1 the spectators could take any     
delight in them4 ,caesar1 on his part1  
kept his engagement3 he gave ,laberius a
 considerable sum of money1 and invested
 him anew with the equestrian rank1     
which1 however1 could not re-instate him
 in the opinion of his fellow-citizens4 
,on the other hand1 he took his revenge 
for the prologue and other allusions by 
bestowing the prize on ,syrus1 the      
slave1 and afterward the freedman and   
scholar of ,laberius in the mimetic art4
 ,of the ,mimes of ,syrus we have still 
extant a number of sentences1 which1 in 
matter and elegant conciseness of       
expression1 are deserving of a place by 

the side of ,menander's4 ,some of them  
even go beyond the moral horizon of     
serious ,comedy1 and assume an almost   
stoical elevation4 ,how was the         
transition from low farce to such       
elevation effected8 ,and how could such 
maxims be at all introduced1 without the
 same important involution of human     
relations as that which is exhibited in 
perfect ,comedy8 ,at all events1 they   
are calculated to give us a very        
favourable idea of the ,mimes4 ,horace1 
indeed1 speaks slightingly of the       
literary merit of ,laberius' ,mimes1    
either on account of the arbitrary      
nature of their composition1 or of the  
negligent manner in which they were     
worked out4 ,however1 we ought not to   
allow our own opinion to be too much    
influenced against him by this critical 
poet2 for1 from motives which are easy  
to understand1 he lays much greater     
stress on the careful use of the file1  
than on original boldness and fertility 
of invention4 ,a single entire ,mime1   

which time unfortunately has denied us1 
would have thrown more light on this    
question than all the confused notices  
of grammarians1 and all the conjectures 
of modern scholars4  ,the regular       
,comedy of the ,romans was1 for the most
 part1 palliata1 that is1 it appeared in
 a ,grecian costume1 and represented    
,grecian manners4 ,this is the case with
 all the comedies of ,plautus and       
,terence4 ,but they had also a comoedia 
togata2 so called from the ,roman dress 
which was usually worn in it4 ,afranius 
is celebrated as the principal writer in
 this walk4 ,of these comedies we have  
no remains whatever1 and the notices of 
them are so scanty1 that we can-not even
 determine with certainty whether the   
togatae were original comedies of an    
entirely new invention1 or merely ,greek
 comedies recast with ,roman manners4   
,the latter case is the more probable1  
as ,afranius lived in a period when     
,roman genius had not yet ventured to   
try a flight of original invention2     

although1 on the other hand1 it is not  
easy to conceive how the ,attic comedies
 could1 without great violence and      
constraint1 have been adapted to local  
circumstances so entirely different4    
,the tenor of ,roman life was1 in       
general1 earnest and grave1 although in 
private society they had no small turn  
for wit and joviality4 ,the diversity of
 ranks among the ,romans1 politically1  
was very strongly marked1 and the       
opulence of private individuals was     
frequently almost kingly2 their women   
lived much more in society1 and acted a 
much more important part than the       
,grecian women did1 and from this       
independence they fully participated in 
the overwhelming tide of corruption     
which accompanied external refinement4  
,the differences being so essential1 an 
original ,roman comedy would have been a
 remarkable phenomenon1 and would have  
enabled us to see these conquerors of   
the world in an aspect altogether new4  
,that1 however1 this was not            

accomplished by the comoedia togata1 is 
proved by the indifferent manner in     
which it is mentioned by the ancients4  
,quinctilian does not scruple to say1   
that the ,latin literature limps most in
 comedy2 this is his expression1 word   
for word4  ,with respect to ,tragedy1 we
 must1 in the first place1 remark1 that 
the ,grecian theatre was not introduced 
into ,rome without considerable changes 
in its arrangement4 ,the chorus1 for    
instance1 had no longer a place in the  
orchestra1 where the most distinguished 
spectators1 the knights and senators1   
now sat2 but it remained on the stage   
itself4 ,here1 then1 was the very       
disadvantage which we alleged in        
objection to the modern attempts to     
introduce the chorus4 ,other deviations 
from the ,grecian mode of representation
 were also sanctioned1 which can hardly 
be considered as improvements4 ,at the  
very first introduction of the regular  
drama1 ,livius ,andronicus1 a ,greek by 
birth1 and the first tragic poet and    

actor of ,rome1 in his monodies 7lyrical
 pieces which were sung by a single     
person1 and not by the whole chorus71   
separated the song from the mimetic     
dancing1 the latter only remaining to   
the actor1 in whose stead a boy1        
standing beside the flute-player1       
accompanied him with his voice4 ,among  
the ,greeks1 in better times1 the tragic
 singing1 and the accompanying          
rhythmical gestures1 were so simple1    
that a single person was able to do at  
the same time ample justice to both4    
,the ,romans1 however1 it would seem1   
preferred separate excellence to        
harmonious unity4 ,hence arose1 at an   
after period1 their fondness for        
pantomime1 of which the art was carried 
to the greatest perfection in the time  
of ,augustus4 ,prom the names of the    
most celebrated of the performers1      
,pylades1 ,bathyllus1 c41 it would      
appear that it was ,greeks that         
practised this mute eloquence in ,rome2 
and the lyric pieces which were         

expressed by their dances were also     
delivered in ,greek4 ,lastly1 ,roscius  
frequently played without a mask1 and in
 this respect probably he did not stand 
alone2 but1 as far as we know1 there    
never was any instance of it among the  
,greeks4 ,the alteration in question    
might be favourable to the more         
brilliant display of his own skill1 and 
the ,romans1 who were pleased with it1  
showed here also that they had a higher 
relish for the disproportionate and     
prominent talents of a virtuoso1 than   
for the harmonious impression of a work 
of art considered as a whole4  ,in the  
tragic literature of the ,romans1 two   
epochs are to be distinguished3 the     
first that of ,livius ,andronicus1      
,naevius1 ,ennius1 and also ,pacuvius   
and ,attius1 who both flourished        
somewhat later than ,plautus and        
,terence2 and the second1 the refined   
epoch of the ,augustan age4 ,the former 
produced none but translators and       
remodellers of ,greek works1 but it is  

probable that they succeeded better in  
,tragedy than in ,comedy4 ,elevation of 
expression is usually somewhat awkward  
in a language as yet imperfectly        
cultivated1 but still its height may be 
attained by perseverance2 but to hit off
 the negligent grace of social wit      
requires natural humour and refinement  
,here1 however1 7as well as in the case 
of ,plautus and ,terence17 we do not    
possess a single fragment of any work   
whose ,greek original is extant1 to     
enable us to judge of the accuracy and  
general felicity of the copy2 but a     
speech of considerable length from      
,attius' ,prometheus ,unbound1 is in no 
respect unworthy of--,aeschylus1 and the
 versification1 also1 is much more      
careful ,footnote3 ,in what metres could
 these tragedians have translated the   
,greek choral odes8 ,horace declares the
 imitation1 in ,latin1 of ,pindar1 whose
 lyrical productions bear great         
resemblance to those of ,tragedy1       
altogether impracticable4 ,probably they

 never ventured into the labyrinths of  
the choral strophes1 which were neither 
calculated for the language nor for the 
ear of the ,romans4 ,beyond the anapest1
 the tragedies of ,seneca never ascend  
higher than a sophic or choriambic      
verse1 which1 when monotonously         
repeated1 is very disagreeable to the   
ear4 than that of the ,latin comic      
writers generally4 ,this earlier style  
was carried to perfection by ,pacuvius  
and ,attius1 whose pieces alone kept    
their place on the stage1 and seem to   
have had many admirers down to the times
 of ,cicero1 and even still later4      
,horace directs his jealous criticism   
against these1 as well as all the other 
old poets4  ,it was the ambition of the 
contemporaries of ,augustus1 to measure 
their powers with the ,greeks in a more 
original manner2 but their labours were 
not attended with equal success in every
 department4 ,the number of amateurs who
 attempted to shine in ,tragedy was     
particularly great2 and works of this   

kind by the ,emperor himself even are   
mentioned4 ,hence there is much in      
favour of the conjecture that ,horace   
wrote his epistle to the ,pisos1 chiefly
 with the view of deterring these young 
men from so dangerous a career1 being1  
in all probability1 infected by the     
universal passion1 without possessing   
the requisite talents4 ,one of the most 
renowned tragic poets of this age was   
the famous ,asinius ,pollio1 a man of a 
violently impassioned disposition1 as   
,pliny informs us1 and who was fond of  
whatever bore the same character in     
works of fine art4 ,it was he who       
brought with him from ,rhodes1 and      
erected at ,rome1 the well-known group  
of the ,farnese ,bull4 ,if his tragedies
 bore the same relation to those of     
,sophocles1 which this bold1 wild1 but  
somewhat overwrought group does to the  
calm sublimity of the ,niobe1 we have   
every reason to regret their loss4 ,but 
,pollio's political influence might     
easily blind his contemporaries to the  

true value of his poetical labours4     
,ovid1 who tried so many departments of 
poetry1 also attempted ,tragedy1 and was
 the author of a ,medea4 ,to judge from 
the wordy and commonplace displays of   
passion in his ,heroides1 we might      
expect from him1 in ,tragedy1 at most1 a
 caricature of ,euripides4 ,quinctilian1
 however1 asserts that he proved here1  
for once1 what he might have done1 had  
he chosen to restrain himself instead of
 yielding to his natural propensity to  
diffuseness4  ,this1 and all the other  
tragic attempts of the ,augustan age1   
have perished4 ,we cannot estimate with 
certainty the magnitude of the loss     
which we have here suffered1 but from   
all appearances it is not               
extraordinarily great4--,first of all   
the ,grecian ,tragedy had in ,rome to   
struggle with all the disadvantages of a
 plant removed to a foreign soil2 the   
,roman religion was in some degree akin 
to that of the ,greeks1 7though by no   
means so completely identical with it as

 many people suppose17 but at all events
 the heroic mythology of ,greece was    
first introduced into ,rome by the      
poets1 and was in no wise interwoven    
with the national recollections1 as was 
the case in so many ways with those of  
,greece4 ,the ideal of a genuine ,roman 
,tragedy floats before me dimly indeed1 
and in the background of ages1 and with 
all the indistinctness which must       
surround an entity1 which never issued  
out of the womb of possibility into     
reality4 ,it would be altogether        
different in form and significance from 
that of the ,greeks1 and1 in the old    
,roman sense1 religious and patriotic4  
,all truly creative poetry must proceed 
from the inward life of a people1 and   
from religion1 the root of that life4   
,the spirit of the ,roman religion was  
however originally1 and before the      
substance of it was sacrificed to       
foreign ornament1 quite different from  
that of the ,grecian4 ,the latter was   
yielding and flexible to the hand of    

art1 the former immutable beneath the   
rigorous jealousy of priestcraft4 ,the  
,roman faith1 and the customs founded on
 it1 were more serious1 more moral1 and 
pious1 displaying more insight into     
nature1 and more magical and mysterious1
 than the ,greek religion1 at least than
 that part of it which was extrinsecal  
to the mysteries4 ,as the ,greek        
,tragedy represented the struggle of the
 free man with destiny1 a true ,roman   
,tragedy would exhibit the subjection of
 human motives to the holy and binding  
force of religion1 and its visible      
presence in all earthly things4 ,but    
this spirit had been long extinct1      
before the want of a cultivated poetry  
was first felt by them4 ,the            
,patricians1 originally an ,etruscan    
sacerdotal school1 had become mere      
secular statesmen and warriors1 who     
regarded their hereditary priesthood in 
no other light than that of a political 
form4 ,their sacred books1 their ,vedas1
 were become unintelligible to them1 not

 so much from obsoleteness of character1
 as because they no longer possessed the
 higher knowledge which was the key to  
that sanctuary4 ,what the heroic tales  
of the ,latins might have become under  
an earlier development1 as well as their
 peculiar colouring1 we may still see1  
from some traces in ,virgil1            
,propertius1 and ,ovid1 although even   
these poets did but handle them as      
matters of antiquity4  ,moreover1       
desirous as the ,romans were of becoming
 thorough ,hellenists1 they wanted for  
it that milder humanity which is so     
distinctly traceable in ,grecian        
history1 poetry1 and art1 even in the   
time of ,homer4 ,prom the most austere  
virtue1 which buried every personal     
inclination1 as ,curtius did his life1  
in the bosom of father-land1 they passed
 with fearful rapidity to a state of    
corruption1 by avarice and luxury1      
equally without example4 ,never in their
 character did they belie the legend    
that their first founder was suckled1   

not at the breast of woman1 but of a    
ravening she-wolf4 ,they were the       
tragedians of the world's history1 who  
exhibited many a deep tragedy of kings  
led in chains and pining in dungeons2   
they were the iron necessity of all     
other nations2 universal destroyers for 
the sake of raising at last1 out of the 
ruins1 the mausoleum of their own       
dignity and freedom1 in the midst of the
 monotonous solitude of an obsequious   
world4 ,to them1 it was not given to    
excite emotion by the tempered accents  
of mental suffering1 and to touch with a
 light and delicate hand every note in  
the scale of feeling4 ,they naturally   
sought also in ,tragedy1 by overleaping 
all intervening gradations1 to reach at 
once the extreme1 whether in the        
stoicism of heroic fortitude1 or in the 
monstrous fury of criminal desire4 ,of  
all their ancient greatness nothing     
remained to them but the contempt of    
pain and death whenever an extravagant  
enjoyment of life must finally be       

exchanged for them4 ,this seal1         
therefore1 of their former grandeur they
 accordingly impressed on their tragic  
heroes with a self-satisfied and        
ostentatious profusion4  ,finally1 even 
in the age of cultivated literature1 the
 dramatic poets were still in want of a 
poetical public among a people fond1    
even to a degree of madness1 of shows   
and spectacles4 ,in the triumphal       
processions1 the fights of gladiators1  
and of wild beasts1 all the magnificence
 of the world1 all the renders of every 
clime1 were brought before the eye of   
the spectator1 who was glutted with the 
most violent scenes of blood4 ,on nerves
 so steeled what effect could the more  
refined gradations of tragic pathos     
produce8 ,it was the ambition of the    
powerful to exhibit to the people in one
 day1 on stages erected for the purpose1
 and immediately afterwards destroyed1  
the enormous spoils of foreign or civil 
war4 ,the relation which ,pliny gives of
 the architectural decoration of the    

stage erected by ,scaurus1 borders on   
the incredible4 ,when magnificence could
 be carried no farther1 they endeavoured
 to surprise by the novelty of          
mechanical contrivances4 ,thus1 a       
,roman1 at his father's funeral         
solemnity1 caused two theatres to be    
constructed1 with their backs resting   
against each other1 and made moveable on
 a single pivot1 so that at the end of  
the play they were wheeled round with   
all the spectators within them1 and     
formed into one circus1 in which        
gladiator combats were exhibited4 ,in   
the gratification of the eye that of the
 ear was altogether lost2 rope-dancers  
and white elephants were preferred to   
every kind of dramatic entertainment2   
the embroidered purple robe of the actor
 was applauded1 as we are told by       
,horace1 and so far was the great body  
of the spectators from being attentive  
and quiet1 that he compares their noise 
to that of the roar of the ocean1 or of 
a mountain forest in a storm4  ,only one

 sample of the tragical talent of the   
,romans has come down to us1 from which1
 however1 it would be unjust to form a  
judgment of the productions of better   
times2 ,i allude to the ten tragedies   
which pass under ,seneca's name4 ,their 
claim to this title appears very        
doubtful2 perhaps it is founded merely  
on a circumstance which would lead      
rather to a different conclusion2 that1 
namely1 in one of them1 the ,octavia1   
,seneca himself appears among the       
dramatic personages4 ,the opinions of   
the learned are very much divided on the
 subject2 some ascribe them partly to   
,seneca the philosopher1 and partly to  
his father the rhetorician2 others1     
again1 assume the existence of a        
,seneca1 a tragedian1 a different person
 from both4 ,it is generally allowed    
that the several pieces are neither all 
from the same hand1 nor were of the same
 age4 ,for the honour of the ,roman     
taste1 one would be disposed to consider
 them the productions of a very late    

period of antiquity3 but ,quinctilian   
quotes a verse from the ,medea of       
,seneca1 which is found in the play of  
that name in our collection1 and        
therefore no doubt can be raised against
 the authenticity of this piece1 though 
it seems to be in no way pre-eminent    
above the rest4 ,footnote3 ,the author  
of this ,medea makes the heroine        
strangle her children before the eyes of
 the people1 notwithstanding the        
admonition of ,horace1 who probably had 
some similar example of the ,roman      
theatre before his eyes2 for a ,greek   
would hardly have committed this error  
,the ,roman tragedians must have had a  
particular rage for novelty and effect  
to seek them in such atrocities4 ,we    
find also in ,lucan1 a contemporary of  
,nero1 a similar display of bombast1    
which distorts everything great into    
nonsense4 ,the state of constant outrage
 in which ,rome was kept by a series of 
blood-thirsty tyrants1 gave an unnatural
 character even to eloquence and poetry4

 ,the same effect has been observed in  
similar periods of modern history4      
,under the wise and mild government of a
 ,vespasian and a ,titus1 and more      
especially of a ,trajan1 the ,romans    
returned to a purer taste4 ,but whatever
 period may have given birth to the     
tragedies of ,seneca1 they are beyond   
description bombastic and frigid1       
unnatural both in character and action1 
revolting from their violation of       
propriety1 and so destitute of          
theatrical effect1 that ,i believe they 
were never meant to leave the rhetorical
 schools for the stage4 ,with the old   
tragedies1 those sublime creations of   
the poetical genius of the ,greeks1     
these have nothing in common1 but the   
name1 the outward form1 and the         
mythological materials2 and yet they    
seem to have been composed with the     
obvious purpose of surpassing them2 in  
which attempt they succeed as much as a 
hollow hyperbole would in competition   
with a most fervent truth4 ,every       

tragical common-place is worried out to 
the last gasp2 all is phrase2 and even  
the most common remark is forced and    
stilted4 ,a total poverty of sentiment  
is dressed out with wit and acuteness4  
,there is fancy in them1 or at least a  
phantom of it2 for they contain an      
example of the misapplication of every  
mental faculty4 ,the authors have found 
out the secret of being diffuse1 even to
 wearisomeness1 and at the same time so 
epigrammatically laconic1 as to be often
 obscure and unintelligible4 ,their     
characters are neither ideal nor real   
beings1 but misshapen gigantic puppets1 
who are set in motion at one time by the
 string of an unnatural heroism1 and at 
another by that of a passion equally    
unnatural1 which no guilt nor enormity  
can appal4  ,in a history1 therefore1 of
 ,dramatic ,art1 ,i should altogether   
have passed over the tragedies of       
,seneca1 if1 from a blind prejudice for 
everything which has come down to us    
from antiquity1 they had not been often 

imitated in modern times4 ,they were    
more early and more generally known than
 the ,greek tragedies4 ,not only        
scholars1 without a feeling for art1    
have judged favourably of them1 nay1    
preferred them to the ,greek tragedies1 
but even poets have accounted them worth
 studying4 ,the influence of ,seneca on 
,corneille's idea of tragedy cannot be  
mistaken2 ,racine too1 in his ,phaedra1 
has condescended to borrow a good deal  
from him1 and among other things1 nearly
 the whole scene of the declaration of  
love2 as may be seen in ,brumoy's       
enumeration4     ,,lecture ,,xvi4  ,the 
,italians--,pastoral ,dramas of ,tasso  
and ,guarini--,small progress in        
,tragedy--,metastasio and               
,alfieri--,character of both--,comedies 
of ,ariosto1 ,aretin1                   
,porta--,improvisatore                  
,masks--,goldoni--,gozzi--,latest state4
   ,leaving now the productions of      
,classical ,antiquity1 we proceed to the
 dramatic literature of the moderns4    

,with respect to the order most         
convenient for treating our present     
subject1 it may be doubtful whether it  
is better to consider1 seriatim1 what   
each nation has accomplished in this    
domain1 or to pass continually from one 
to another1 in the train of their       
reciprocal but fluctuating influences4  
,thus1 for instance1 the ,italian       
theatre1 at its first revival1 exercised
 originally an influence on the ,french1
 to be1 however1 greatly influenced in  
its turn by the latter4 ,so1 too1 the   
,french1 before their stage attained its
 full maturity1 borrowed still more from
 the ,spaniards than from the ,italians2
 in later times1 ,voltaire attempted to 
enlarge their theatrical circle1 on the 
model of the ,english2 the attempt1     
however1 was productive of no great     
effect1 even because everything had     
already been immutably fixed1 in        
conformity with their ideas of imitation
 of the ancients1 and their taste in    
art4 ,the ,english and ,spanish stages  

are nearly independent of all the rest1 
and also of each other2 on those of     
other countries1 however1 they have     
exercised a great influence1 but        
experienced very little in return4 ,but1
 to avoid the perplexity and confusion  
which would attend such a plan1 it will 
be advisable to treat the several       
literatures separately1 pointing out1 at
 the same time1 whatever effects foreign
 influence may have produced4 ,this     
course is also rendered necessary1 by   
the circumstance that among modern      
nations the principle of imitation of   
the ancients has in some prevailed1     
without check or modification2 while in 
others1 the romantic spirit             
predominated1 or at least an originality
 altogether independent of classical    
models ,the former is the case with the 
,italians and ,french1 and the latter   
with the ,english and ,spaniards4  ,i   
have already indicated1 in passing1 how 
even before the eruption of the northern
 conquerors had put an end to everything

 like art1 the diffusion of             
,christianity led to the abolition of   
plays1 which1 both with ,greeks and     
,romans1 had become extremely corrupt4  
,after the long sleep of the dramatic   
and theatrical spirit in the middle     
ages1 which1 however uninfluenced by the
 classical models1 began to awake again 
in the ,mysteries and ,moralities1 the  
first attempt to imitate the ancients in
 the theatre1 as well as in the other   
arts and departments of poetry1 was made
 by the ,italians4 ,the ,sophonisba of  
,trissino1 which belongs to the         
beginning of the sixteenth century1 is  
generally named as the first regular    
tragedy4 ,this literary curiosity ,i    
cannot boast of having read1 but from   
other sources ,i know the author to be a
 spiritless pedant4 ,those even of the  
learned1 who are most zealous for the   
imitation of the ancients1 pronounce it 
a dull laboured work1 without a breath  
of true poetical spirit2 we may         
therefore1 without further examination1 

safely appeal to their judgment upon it4
 ,it is singular1 that while all ancient
 forms1 even the ,chorus1 are           
scrupulously retained1 the province of  
mythology is abandoned for that of      
,roman history4  ,the pastoral dramas of
 ,tasso and ,guarini 7which belong to   
the middle of the sixteenth century71   
whose subjects1 though for the most part
 not tragical1 are yet noble1 not to say
 ideal1 may be considered to form an    
epoch in the history of dramatic poetry4
 ,they are furnished with choruses of   
the most ravishing beauty1 which1       
however1 are but so many lyrical voices 
floating in the air2 they do not appear 
as personages1 and still less are they  
introduced with due regard to           
probability as constant witnesses of the
 represented actions4 ,these            
compositions were1 there is no doubt1   
designed for the theatre2 and they were 
represented at ,ferrara and at ,turin   
with great pomp1 and we may presume with
 eminent taste4 ,this fact1 however1    

serves to give us an idea of the        
infantine state of the theatre at that  
time2 although1 as a whole1 they have   
each their plot and catastrophe1 the    
action nevertheless stands still in some
 scenes4 ,their popularity1 therefore1  
would lead us to conclude that the      
spectators1 little accustomed to        
theatrical amusements1 were consequently
 not difficult to please1 and patiently 
followed the progress of a beautiful    
poem1 even though deficient in dramatic 
development4 ,the ,pastor ,fido1 in     
particular1 is an inimitable production2
 original and yet classical2 romantic in
 the spirit of the love which it        
portrays2 in its form impressed with the
 grand but simple stamp of classical    
antiquity2 and uniting with the sweet   
triflings of poetry1 the high and chaste
 beauty of feeling4 ,no poet has        
succeeded so well as ,guarini in        
combining the peculiarities of the      
modern and antique4 ,he displays a      
profound feeling of the essence of      

,ancient ,tragedy2 for the idea of fate 
pervades the subject- matter1 and the   
principal characters may be said to be  
ideal3 he has also introduced           
caricatures1 and on that account called 
the composition a ,tragi-,comedy2 but it
 is not from the vulgarity of their     
manners that they are caricatures1 as   
from their over-lofty sentiments1 just  
as in ,ancient ,tragedy the subordinate 
personages ever are invested with more  
or less of the general dignity4  ,the   
great importance of this work1 however1 
belongs rather to the ,history of       
,poetry in general2 on ,dramatic ,poetry
 it had no effect1 as in truth it was   
not calculated to produce any4  ,i then 
return to what may properly be called   
the ,tragedy of the ,italians4 ,after   
the ,sophonisba1 and a few pieces of the
 same period1 which ,calsabigi calls the
 first tragic lispings of ,italy1 a     
number of works of the sixteenth1       
seventeenth1 and eighteenth centuries   
are cited2 but of these none made1 or at

 any rate maintained any considerable   
reputation4 ,although all these writers1
 in intention at least1 laboured1 to    
follow the rules of ,aristotle1 their   
tragical abortions are thus described by
 ,calsabigi1 a critic entirely devoted  
to the ,french system3--,distorted1     
complicated1 improbable plots1          
ill-understood scenic regulations1      
useless personages1 double plots1       
inconsistent characters1 gigantic or    
childish thoughts1 feeble verses1       
affected phrases1 the poetry neither    
harmonious nor natural2 all this decked 
out with ill-timed descriptions and     
similes1 or idle philosophical and      
political disquisitions2 in every scene 
some silly amour1 with all the trite    
insipidity of common-place              
sentimentality2 of true tragic energy1  
of the struggle of conflicting passions1
 of overpowering theatrical             
catastrophes1 not the slightest trace4  
,amongst the lumber of this forgotten   
literature we cannot stop to rummage1   

and we shall therefore proceed          
immediately to the consideration of the 
,merope of ,maffei1 which appeared in   
the beginning of the eighteenth century4
 ,its success in ,italy1 on its first   
publication1 was great2 and in other    
countries1 owing to the competition of  
,voltaire1 it also obtained an          
extraordinary reputation4 ,the object of
 both ,maffei and ,voltaire was1 from   
,hyginus' account of its contents1 to   
restore in some measure a lost piece of 
,euripides1 which the ancients highly   
commended4 ,voltaire1 pretending to     
eulogize1 has given a rival's criticism 
of ,maffei's ,merope2 there is also a   
lengthened criticism on it in the       
,dramaturgie of ,lessing1 as clever as  
it is impartial4 ,he pronounces it1     
notwithstanding its purity and          
simplicity of taste1 the work of a      
learned antiquary1 rather than of a mind
 naturally adapted for1 and practised in
 the dramatic art4 ,we must therefore   
judge accordingly of the previous state 

of the drama in the country where such a
 work could arrive at so great an       
estimation4  ,after ,maffei came        
,metastasio and ,alfieri2 the first     
before the middle1 and the other in the 
latter half of the eighteenth century4  
,i here include the musical dramas of   
,metastasio1 because they aim in general
 at a serious and pathetic effect1      
because they lay claim to ideality of   
conception1 and because in their        
external form there is a partial        
observance of what is considered as     
belonging to the regularity of a        
tragedy4 ,both these poets1 though      
totally differing in their aim1 were    
nevertheless influenced in common by the
 productions of the ,french stage4      
,both1 it is true1 declared themselves  
too decidedly against the authority of  
this school to be considered properly as
 belonging to it2 they assure us that1  
in order to preserve their own          
originality1 they purposely avoided     
reading the ,french models4 ,but this   

very precaution appears somewhat        
suspicious3 whoever feels himself       
perfectly firm and secure in his own    
independence1 may without hesitation    
study the works of his predecessors2 he 
will thus be able to derive from them   
many an improvement in his art1 and yet 
stamp on his own productions a peculiar 
character4 ,but there is nothing on this
 head that ,i can urge in support of    
these poets3 if it be really true that  
they never1 or at least not before the  
completion of their works1 perused the  
works of ,french tragedians1 some       
invisible influence must have diffused  
itself through the atmosphere1 which1   
without their being conscious of it1    
determined them4 ,this is at once       
conceivable from the great estimation   
which1 since the time of ,louis ,,xiv1  
,french ,tragedy has enjoyed1 not only  
with the learned1 but also with the     
great world throughout ,europe2 from the
 new-modelling of several foreign       
theatres to the fashion of the ,french2 

from the prevailing spirit of criticism1
 with which negative correctness was    
everything1 and in which ,france gave   
the tone to the literature of other     
countries4 ,the affinity is in both     
undeniable1 but1 from the intermixture  
of the musical element in ,metastasio1  
it is less striking than in ,alfieri4 ,i
 trace it in the total absence of the   
romantic spirit2 in a certain fanciless 
insipidity of composition2 in the manner
 of handling mythological and historical
 materials1 which is neither properly   
mythological nor historical2 lastly1 in 
the aim to produce a tragic purity1     
which degenerates into monotony4 ,the   
unities of both place and time have been
 uniformly observed by ,alfieri2 the    
latter only could be respected by       
,metastasio1 as change of scene is      
necessary to the opera poet4 ,alfieri   
affords in general no food for the eyes4
 ,in his plots he aimed at the antique  
simplicity1 while ,metastasio1 in his   
rich intrigues1 followed ,spanish       

models1 and in particular borrowed      
largely from ,calderon4 ,footnote3 ,this
 is expressly asserted by the learned   
,spaniard ,arteaga1 in his ,italian work
 on the ,history of the ,opera4 ,yet the
 harmonious ideality of the ancients was
 as foreign to the one1 as the other was
 destitute of the charm of the romantic 
poets1 which arises from the            
indissoluble mixture of elements        
apparently incongruous4  ,even before   
,metastasio1 ,apostolo ,zeno had1 as it 
is called1 purified the opera1 a phrase 
which1 in the sense of modern critics1  
often means emptying a thing of all its 
substance and vigour4 ,he formed it on  
the model of ,tragedy1 and more         
especially of ,french ,tragedy2 and a   
too faithful1 or rather too slavish     
approximation to this model1 is the very
 cause why he left so little room for   
musical development1 on which account   
his pieces were immediately driven from 
the stage of the opera by those of his  
more expert successor4 ,it is in general

 an artistic mistake for one species to 
attempt1 at evident disadvantage1 that  
which another more perfectly            
accomplishes1 and in the attempt1 to    
sacrifice its own peculiar excellencies4
 ,it originates in a chilling idea of   
regularity1 once for all established for
 every kind alike1 instead of           
ascertaining the spirit and peculiar    
laws of each distinct species4          
,metastasio quickly threw ,zeno into the
 shade1 since1 with the same object in  
view1 he displayed greater flexibility  
in accommodating himself to the         
requisitions of the musician4 ,the      
merits which have gained for him the    
reputation of a classic among the       
,italians of the present day1 and which1
 in some degree1 have made him with them
 what ,racine is with the ,french1 are  
generally the perfect purity1 clearness1
 elegance1 and sweetness of his         
language1 and1 in particular1 the soft  
melody and the extreme loveliness of his
 songs4 ,perhaps no poet ever possessed 

in a greater degree the talent of       
briefly bringing together all the       
essential features of a pathetic        
situation2 the songs with which the     
characters make their exit1 are almost  
always the purest concentrated musical  
extract of their state of mind4 ,but1 at
 the same time1 we must own that all his
 delineations of passion are general3   
his pathos is purified1 not only from   
all characteristic1 as well as from all 
contemplative matter2 and1 consequently1
 the poetic representation1 unencumbered
 thereby1 proceeds with a light and easy
 motion1 leaving to the musician the    
care of a richer and fuller development4
 ,metastasio is musical throughout2 but1
 to follow up the simile1 we may        
observe1 that of poetical music1 melody 
is the only part that he possesses1     
being deficient in harmonious compass1  
and in the mysterious effects of        
counterpoint4 ,or1 to express myself in 
different terms1 he is musical1 but in  
no respect picturesque4 ,his melodies   

are light and pleasant1 but they are    
constantly repeated with little or no   
variation3 when we have read a few of   
his pieces1 we know them all2 and the   
composition as a whole is always without
 significance4 ,his heroes1 like those  
of ,corneille1 are gallant2 his heroines
 tender1 like those of ,racine2 but this
 has been too severely censured by many1
 without a due consideration of the     
requirements of the ,opera4 ,to me he   
appears censurable only for the         
selection of subjects1 whose very       
seriousness could not without great     
incongruity be united with such         
triflings4 ,had ,metastasio not adopted 
great historical names--had he borrowed 
his subject-matter more frequently from 
mythology1 or from still more fanciful  
fictions--had he made always the same   
happy choice as that in his ,achilles in
 ,scyros1 where1 from the nature of the 
story1 the ,heroic is interwoven with   
the ,idyllic1 we might then have        
pardoned him if he invariably depicts   

his personages as in love4 ,then should 
we1 if only we ourselves understood what
 ought to be expected from an opera1    
willingly have permitted him to indulge 
in feats of fancy still more            
venturesome4 ,by his tragical           
pretensions he has injured himself3 his 
powers were inadequate to support them1 
and the seductive movingness at which he
 aimed was irreconcileable with         
overpowering energy4 ,i have heard a    
celebrated ,italian poet assert that his
 countrymen were moved to tears by      
,metastasio4 ,we cannot get over such a 
national testimony as this1 except by   
throwing it back on the nation itself as
 a symptom of its own moral temperament4
 ,it appears to me undeniable1 that a   
certain melting softness in the         
sentiments1 and the expression of them1 
rendered ,metastasio the delight of his 
contemporaries4 ,he has lines which1    
from their dignity and vigorous         
compression1 are perfectly suited to    
,tragedy1 and yet we perceive in them an

 indescribable something1 which seems to
 show that they were designed for the   
flexible throat of a soprano singer4    
,the astonishing success of ,metastasio 
throughout all ,europe1 and especially  
at courts1 must also in a great measure 
be attributed to his being a court poet1
 not merely by profession1 but also by  
the style in which he composed1 and     
which was in every respect that of the  
tragedians of the era of ,louis ,,xiv4  
,a brilliant surface without depth2     
prosaic sentiments and thoughts decked  
out with a choice poetical language2 a  
courtly moderation throughout1 whether  
in the display of passion1 or in the    
exhibition of misfortune and crime2     
observance of the proprieties1 and an   
apparent morality1 for in these dramas  
voluptuousness is but breathed1 never   
named1 and the heart is always in every 
mouth2 all these properties could not   
fail to recommend such tragical         
miniatures to the world of fashion4     
,there is an unsparing pomp of noble    

sentiments1 but withal most strangely   
associated with atrocious baseness4 ,not
 unfrequently does an injured fair one  
dispatch a despised lover to stab the   
faithless one from behind4 ,in almost   
every piece there is a crafty knave who 
plays the traitor1 for whom1 however1   
there is ready prepared some royal      
magnanimity1 to make all right at the   
last4 ,the facility with which base     
treachery is thus taken into favour1 as 
if it were nothing more than an amiable 
weakness1 would have been extremely     
revolting1 if there had been anything   
serious in this array of tragical       
incidents4 ,but the poisoned cup is     
always seasonably dashed from the lips2 
the dagger either drops1 or is forced   
from the murderous hand1 before the     
deadly blow can be struck2 or if injury 
is inflicted1 it is never more than a   
slight scratch2 and some subterranean   
exit is always at hand to furnish the   
means of flight from the dungeon or     
other imminent peril4 ,the dread of     

ridicule1 that conscience of all poets  
who write for the world of fashion1 is  
very visible in the care with which he  
avoids all bolder flights as yet        
unsanctioned by precedent1 and abstains 
from everything supernatural1 because   
such a public carries not with it1 even 
to the fantastic stage of the opera1 a  
belief in wonders4 ,yet this fear has   
not always served as a sure guide to    
,metastasio3 besides such an extravagant
 use of the aside1 as often to appear   
ludicrous1 the subordinate love-stories 
frequently assume the appearance of     
being a parody on the others4 ,here the 
,abb1 thoroughly acquainted with the    
various gradations of ,cicisbeism1 its  
pains and its pleasures1 at once betrays
 himself4 ,to the favoured lover there  
is generally opposed an importunate one1
 who presses his suit without return1   
the soffione among the cicisbei2 the    
former loves in silence1 and frequently 
finds no opportunity till the end of the
 piece1 of offering his little word of  

declaration2 we might call him the      
patito4 ,this unintermitting love-chase 
is not confined to the male parts1 but  
extended also to the female1 that       
everywhere the most varied and brilliant
 contrasts may offer themselves4  ,a few
 only of the operas of ,metastasio still
 keep possession of the stage1 owing to 
the change of musical taste1 which      
demands a different arrangement of the  
text4 ,metastasio seldom has choruses1  
and his airs are almost always for a    
single voice3 with these the scenes     
uniformly close1 and with them the      
singer never fails to make his exit4 ,it
 appears as if1 proud of having played  
off this highest triumph of feeling1 he 
left the spectators to their            
astonishment at witnessing the chirping 
of the passions in the recitatives      
rising at last in the air1 to the fuller
 nightingale tones4 ,at present we      
require in an opera more frequent duos  
and trios1 and a crashing finale4 ,in   
fact1 the most difficult problem for the

 opera poet is to reduce the mingled    
voices of conflicting passions in one   
pervading harmony1 without destroying   
any one of them3 a problem1 however1    
which is generally solved by both poet  
and musician in a very arbitrary manner4
  ,alfieri1 a hold and proud man1       
disdained to please by such meretricious
 means as those of which ,metastasio had
 availed himself3 he was highly         
indignant at the lax immorality of his  
countrymen1 and the degeneracy of his   
contemporaries in general4 ,this        
indignation stimulated him to the       
exhibition of a manly strength of mind1 
of stoical principles and free opinions1
 and on the other hand1 led him to      
depict the horrors and enormities of    
despotism4 ,this enthusiasm1 however1   
was by far more political and moral than
 poetical1 and we must praise his       
tragedies rather as the actions of the  
man than as the works of the poet4 ,from
 his great disinclination to pursue the 
same path with ,metastasio1 he naturally

 fell into the opposite extreme3 ,i     
might not unaptly call him a ,metastasio
 reversed4 ,if the muse of the latter he
 a love-sick nymph1 ,alfieri's muse is  
an ,amazon4 ,he gave her a ,spartan     
education2 he aimed at being the ,cato  
of the theatre2 but he forgot that1     
though the tragic poet may himself he a 
stoic1 tragic poetry itself1 if it would
 move and agitate us1 must never be     
stoical4 ,his language is so barren of  
imagery1 that his characters seem       
altogether devoid of fancy2 it is broken
 and harsh3 he wished to steel it anew1 
and in the process it not only lost its 
splendour1 but became brittle and       
inflexible4 ,not only is he not musical1
 but positively anti- musical2 he       
tortures our feelings by the harshest   
dissonances1 without any softening or   
solution4 ,tragedy is intended by its   
elevating sentiments in some degree to  
emancipate our minds from the sensual   
despotism of the body2 but really to do 
this1 it must not attempt to strip this 

dangerous gift of heaven of its charms3 
but rather it must point out to us the  
sublime majesty of our existence1 though
 surrounded on all sides by dangerous   
abysses4 ,when we read the tragedies of 
,alfieri1 the world looms upon us dark  
and repulsive4 ,a style of composition  
which exhibits the ordinary course of   
human affairs in a gloomy and troublous 
light1 and whose extraordinary          
catastrophes are horrible1 resembles a  
climate where the perpetual fogs of a   
northern winter should be joined with   
the fiery tempests of the torrid zone4  
,profound and delicate delineation of   
character is as little to be looked for 
in ,alfieri as in ,metastasio3 he does  
but exhibit the opposite but equally    
partial view of human nature4 ,his      
characters also are cast in the mould of
 naked general notions1 and he          
frequently paints the extremes of black 
and white1 side by side1 and in         
unrelieved contrast4 ,his villains for  
the most part betray all their          

deformity1 in their outward conduct2    
this might1 perhaps1 be allowed to pass1
 although indeed such a picture will    
hardly enable us to recognise them in   
real life2 but his virtuous persons are 
not amiable1 and this is a defect open  
to much graver censure4 ,of all         
seductive graces1 and even of all       
subordinate charms and ornaments1 7as if
 the degree in which nature herself had 
denied them to this caustic genius had  
not been sufficient17 he studiously     
divested himself1 because as he thought 
it would best advance his more earnest  
moral aim1 forgetting1 however1 that the
 poet has no other means of swaying the 
minds of men than the fascinations of   
his art4  ,from the tragedy of the      
,greeks1 with which he did not become   
acquainted until the end of his career1 
he was separated by a wide chasm2 and ,i
 cannot consider his pieces as an       
improvement on the ,french tragedy4     
,their structure is more simple1 the    
dialogue in some cases less             

conventional2 he has also got rid of    
confidants1 and this has been highly    
extolled as a difficulty overcome1 and  
an improvement on the ,french system2 he
 had the same aversion to chamberlains  
and court ladies in poetry as in real   
life4 ,but in captivating and brilliant 
eloquence1 his pieces bear no comparison
 with the better ,french tragedies2 they
 also display much less skill in the    
plot1 its gradual march1 preparations1  
and transitions4 ,compare1 for instance1
 the ,britannicus of ,racine with the   
,octavia of ,alfieri4 ,both drew their  
materials from ,tacitus3 but which of   
them has shown the more perfect         
understanding #ja this profound master  
of the human heart8 ,racine appears here
 before us as a man who was thoroughly  
acquainted with all the corruptions of a
 court1 and had beheld ancient ,rome    
under the ,emperors1 reflected in this  
mirror of observation4 ,on the other    
hand1 if ,alfieri did not expressly     
assure us that his ,octavia was a       

daughter of ,tacitus1 we should be      
inclined to believe that it was modelled
 on that of the pretended ,seneca4 ,the 
colours with which he paints his tyrants
 are borrowed from the rhetorical       
exercises of the school4 ,who can       
recognise1 in his blustering and raging 
,nero1 the man who1 as ,tacitus says1   
seemed formed by nature to veil hatred  
with caresses8--the cowardly ,sybarite1 
fantastically vain till the very last   
moment of his existence1 cruel at first1
 from fear1 and afterwards from         
inordinate lust4  ,if ,alfieri has1 in  
this case1 been untrue to ,tacitus1 in  
the ,conspiracy of the ,pazzi he has    
equally failed in his attempt to        
translate ,macchiavel into the language 
of poetry4 ,in this and other pieces    
from modern history1 the ,filippo for   
instance1 and the ,don ,garcia1 he has  
by no means hit the spirit and tone of  
modern times1 nor even of his own       
nation3 his ideas of the tragic style   
were opposed to the observance of       

everything like a local and determinate 
costume4 ,on the other hand it is       
astonishing to observe the subjects     
which he has borrowed from the tragic   
cycles of the ,greeks1 such as the      
,orestiad1 for instance1 losing under   
his hands all their heroic magnificence1
 and assuming a modern1 not to say a    
vulgar air4 ,he has succeeded best in   
painting the public life of the ,roman  
republic2 and it is a great merit in the
 ,virginia that the action takes place  
in the forum1 and in part before the    
eyes of the people4 ,in other pieces1   
while the ,unity of ,place is strictly  
observed1 the scene chosen is for the   
most part so invisible and              
indeterminate1 that one would fain      
imagine it is some out-of-the-way       
corner1 where nobody comes but persons  
involved in painful and disagreeable    
transactions4 ,again1 the stripping his 
kings and heroes1 for the sake of       
simplicity1 of all their external       
retinue1 produces the impression that   

the world is actually depopulated around
 them4 ,this stage-solitude is very     
striking in ,saul1 where the scene is   
laid before two armies in battle-array1 
on the point of a decisive engagement4  
,and yet1 in other respects this piece  
is favourably distinguished from the    
rest1 by a certain ,oriental splendour1 
and the lyrical sublimity in which the  
troubled mind of ,saul gives utterance  
to itself4 ,myrrha is a perilous attempt
 to treat with propriety a subject      
equally revolting to the senses and the 
feelings4 ,the ,spaniard ,arteaga has   
criticised this tragedy and the ,filippo
 with great severity but with great     
truth4  ,i reserve for my notice of the 
present condition of the ,italian       
theatre all that ,i have to remark on   
the successors of ,alfieri1 and go back 
in order of time in order to give a     
short sketch of the history of ,comedy4 
,in this department the ,italians began 
with an imitation of the ancients1 which
 was not sufficiently attentive to the  

difference of times and manners1 and    
translations of ,plautus and ,terence   
were usually represented in their       
earliest theatres2 they soon fell1      
however1 into the most singular         
extravagancies4 ,we have comedies of    
,ariosto and ,macchiavelli-- those of   
the former are in rhymeless verse1 versi
 sdruccioli1 and those of the latter in 
prose4 ,such men could produce nothing  
which did not bear traces of their      
genius4 ,but ,ariosto in the structure  
of his pieces kept too close to the     
stories of the ancients1 and1 therefore1
 did not exhibit any true living picture
 of the manners of his own times4 ,in   
,macchiavelli this is only the case in  
his ,clitia1 an imitation of ,plautus2  
the ,mandragola1 and another comedy1    
which is without a name1 are            
sufficiently ,florentine2 but1          
unfortunately1 they are not of a very   
edifying description4 ,a simple deceived
 husband1 and a hypocritical and        
pandering monk1 form the principal      

parts4 ,tales1 in the style of the free 
and merry tales of ,boccacio1 are boldly
 and bluntly1 ,i cannot say1 dramatised3
 for with respect to theatrical effect  
they are altogether inartificial1 but   
given in the form of dialogue4 ,as      
,mimes1 that is1 as pictures of the     
language of ordinary life with all its  
idioms1 these productions are much to be
 commended4 ,in one point they resemble 
the ,latin comic poets2 they are not    
deficient in indecency4 ,this was1      
indeed1 their general tone4 ,the        
comedies of ,pietro ,aretino are merely 
remarkable for their shameless          
immodesty4 ,it almost seems as if these 
writers1 deeming the spirit of refined  
love inconsistent with the essence of   
,comedy1 had exhausted the very lees of 
the sensual amours of ,greek ,comedy4   
,at a still earlier period1 in the      
beginning1 namely1 of the sixteenth     
century1 an unsuccessful attempt had    
been made in the ,virginia of ,accolti  
to dramatise a serious novel1 as a      

middle species between ,comedy and      
,tragedy1 and to adorn it with poetical 
splendour4 ,its subject is the same     
story on which ,shakspeare's ,all's     
,well that ,ends ,well1 is founded4 ,i  
have never had an opportunity of reading
 it1 but the unfavourable report of a   
literary man disposes me to think       
favourably of it4 ,footnote3            
,bouterwek's ,geschichte der ,poesie und
 ,beredsamkeit4--,ersten ,band1 s4 #ccd1
 c4 ,according to his description1 it   
resembles the older pieces of the       
,spanish stage before it had attained to
 maturity of form1 and in common with   
them it employs the stanza for its      
metre4 ,the attempts at romantic drama  
have always failed in ,italy2 whereas in
 ,spain1 on the contrary1 all endeavours
 to model the theatre according to the  
rules of the ancients1 and latterly of  
the ,french1 have from the difference of
 national taste uniformly been abortive4
  ,we have a comedy of ,tasso's1 ,gli   
,intrichi d',amore1 which ought rather  

to be called a lengthy romance in the   
form of dialogue4 ,so many and such     
wonderful events are crowded together   
within the narrow limit of five acts1   
that one incident treads closely upon   
the heels of another1 without being in  
the least accounted for by human        
motives1 so as to give to the whole an  
insupportable hardness4 ,criminal       
designs are portrayed with indifference1
 and the merriment is made to consist in
 the manner in which some accident or   
other invariably frustrates their       
consequences4 ,we cannot here recognise 
the ,tasso whose nice sense of love1    
chivalry1 and honour speaks so          
delightfully in the ,jerusalem          
,delivered1 and on this ground it has   
even been doubted whether this work be  
really his4 ,the richness of invention1 
if we may give this name to a rude      
accumulation of incidents1 is so great1 
that the attention is painfully tortured
 in the endeavour to keep clear and     
disentangled the many and diversely     

crossing threads4  ,we have of this date
 a multitude of ,italian comedies on a  
similar plan1 only with less order and  
connexion1 and whoso aim apparently is  
to delight by means of indecency4 ,a    
parasite and procuress are standing     
characters in all4 ,among the comic     
poets of this class1 ,giambatista ,porta
 deserves to be distinguished4 ,his     
plots1 it is true1 are like the rest1   
imitations of ,plautus and ,terence1 or 
dramatised tales2 but1 throughout the   
love- dialogues1 on which he seems to   
have laboured with peculiar fondness1   
there breathes a tender feeling which   
rises even from the midst of the        
rudeness of the old ,italian ,comedy1   
and its generally uncongenial materials4
  ,in the seventeenth century1 when the 
,spanish theatre flourished in all its  
glory1 the ,italians seem to have       
borrowed frequently from it2 but not    
without misemploying and disfiguring    
whatever they so acquired4 ,the neglect 
of the regular stage increased with the 

all-absorbing passion for the opera1 and
 with the growing taste of the multitude
 for improvisatory farces with standing 
masks4 ,the latter are not in themselves
 to be despised3 they serve to fix1 as  
it were1 so many central points of the  
national character in the comic         
exhibition1 by the external             
peculiarities of speech1 dress1 c4      
,their constant recurrence does not by  
any means preclude the greatest possible
 diversity in the plot of the pieces1   
even as in chess1 with a small number of
 men1 of which each has his fixed       
movement1 an endless number of          
combinations is possible4 ,but as to    
extemporary playing1 it no doubt readily
 degenerates into insipidity2 and this  
may have been the case even in ,italy1  
notwithstanding the great fund of       
drollery and fantastic wit1 and a       
peculiar felicity in farcical           
gesticulation1 which the ,italians      
possess4  ,about the middle of the last 
century1 ,goldoni appeared as the       

reformer of ,italian ,comedy1 and his   
success was so great1 that he remained  
almost exclusively in possession of the 
comic stage4 ,he is certainly not       
deficient in theatrical skill2 but1 as  
the event has proved1 he is wanting in  
that solidity1 that depth of            
characterization1 that novelty and      
richness of invention1 which are        
necessary to ensure a lasting           
reputation4 ,his pictures of manners are
 true1 but not sufficiently elevated    
above the range of every-day life2 he   
has exhausted the surface of life2 and  
as there is little progression in his   
dramas1 and every thing turns usually on
 the same point1 this adds to the       
impression of shallowness and ennui1 as 
characteristic of the existing state of 
society4 ,willingly would he have       
abolished masks altogether1 but he could
 hardly have compensated for them out of
 his own resources2 however1 he retained
 only a few of them1 as ,harlequin1     
,brighella1 and ,pantaloon1 and limited 

their parts4 ,and yet he fell again into
 a great uniformity of character1 which1
 indeed1 he partly confesses in his     
repeated use of the same names3 for     
instance1 his ,beatrice is always a     
lively1 and his ,rosaura a feeling young
 maiden2 and as for any farther         
distinction1 it is not to be found in   
him4  ,the excessive admiration of      
,goldoni1 and the injury sustained      
thereby by the masked comedy1 for which 
the company of ,sacchi in ,venice       
possessed the highest talents1 gave rise
 to the dramas of ,gozzi4 ,they are     
fairy tales in a dramatic form1 in      
which1 however1 along side of the       
wonderful1 versified1 and more serious  
part1 he employed the whole of the      
masks1 and allowed them full and        
unrestrained development of their       
peculiarities4 ,they1 if ever any were1 
are pieces for effect1 of great boldness
 of plot1 still more fantastic than     
romantic2 even though ,gozzi was the    
first among the comic poets of ,italy to

 show any true feeling for honour and   
love4 ,the execution does not betoken   
either care or skill1 but is sketchily  
dashed off4 ,with all his whimsical     
boldness he is still quite a popular    
writer2 the principal motives are       
detailed with the most unambiguous      
perspicuity1 all the touches are coarse 
and vigorous3 he says1 he knows well    
that his countrymen are fond of robust  
situations4 ,after his imagination had  
revelled to satiety among ,oriental     
tales1 he took to re-modelling ,spanish 
plays1 and particularly those of        
,calderon2 but here he is1 in my        
opinion1 less deserving of praise4 ,by  
him the ethereal and delicately-tinted  
poetry of the ,spaniard is uniformly    
vulgarised1 and deepened with the most  
glaring colours2 while the weight of his
 masks draws the aerial tissue to the   
ground1 for the humorous introduction of
 the gracioso in the ,spanish is of far 
finer texture4 ,on the other hand1 the  
wonderful extravagance of the masked    

parts serves as an admirable contrast to
 the wild marvels of fairy tale4 ,thus  
the character of these pieces was1 in   
the serious part1 as well as in the     
accompanying drollery1 equally removed  
from natural truth4 ,here ,gozzi had    
fallen almost accidentally on a fund of 
whose value he was not1 perhaps1 fully  
aware3 his prosaical1 and for the most  
part improvisatory1 masks1 forming      
altogether of themselves the irony on   
the poetical part4 ,what ,i here mean by
 irony1 ,i shall explain more fully when
 ,i come to the justification of the    
mixture of the tragic and comic in the  
romantic drama of ,shakspeare and       
,calderon4 ,at present ,i shall only    
observe1 that it is a sort of confession
 interwoven into the representation     
itself1 and more or less distinctly     
expressed1 of its overcharged           
one-sidedness in matters of fancy and   
feeling1 and by means of which the      
equipoise is again restored4 ,the       
,italians were not1 however1 conscious  

of this1 and ,gozzi did not find any    
followers to carry his rude sketches to 
a higher degree of perfection4 ,instead 
of combining like him1 only with greater
 refinement1 the charms of wonderful    
poetry with exhilarating mirth2 instead 
of comparing ,gozzi with the foreign    
masters of the romantic drama1 whom he  
resembles notwithstanding his great     
disparity1 and from the unconscious     
affinity between them in spirit and     
plan1 drawing the conclusion that the   
principle common to both was founded in 
nature2 the ,italians contented         
themselves with considering the pieces  
of ,gozzi as the wild offspring of an   
extravagant imagination1 and with       
banishing them from the stage4 ,the     
comedy with masks is held in contempt by
 all who pretend to any degree of       
refinement1 as if they were too wise for
 it1 and is abandoned to the vulgar1 in 
the ,sunday representations at the      
theatres and in the puppet-shows4       
,although this contempt must have had an

 injurious influence on the masks1      
preventing1 as it does1 any actor of    
talent from devoting himself to them1 so
 that there are no examples now of the  
spirit and wit with which they were     
formerly filled up1 still the ,commedia 
dell' ,arte is the only one in ,italy   
where we can meet with original and     
truly theatrical entertainment4         
,footnote3 ,a few years ago1 ,i saw in  
,milan an excellent ,truffaldin or      
,harlequin1 and here and there in       
obscure theatres1 and even in           
puppet-shows1 admirable representations 
of the old traditional jokes of the     
country4 ,unfortunately1 on my last     
visit to ,milan1 my friend was no longer
 to be met with4 ,under the ,french     
rule1 ,harlequin's merry occupation had 
been proscribed in the ,great ,theatres1
 from a care1 it was alleged1 for the   
dignity of man4 ,the ,puppet-theatre of 
,gerolamo still flourishes1 however but 
a stranger finds it difficult to follow 
the jokes of the ,piedmontese and ,milan

 ,masks4--,,last ,,edition4  ,in        
,tragedy the ,italians generally imitate
 ,alfieri1 who1 although it is the      
prevailing fashion to admire him1 is too
 bold and manly a thinker to be         
tolerated on the stage4 ,they have      
produced some single pieces of merit1   
but the principles of tragic art which  
,alfieri followed are altogether false1 
and in the bawling and heartless        
declamation of their actors1 this tragic
 poetry1 stripped with stoical severity 
of all the charms of grouping1 of       
musical harmony1 and of every tender    
emotion1 is represented with the most   
deadening uniformity and monotony4 ,as  
all the rich rewards are reserved for   
the singers1 it is only natural that    
their players1 who are only introduced  
as a sort of stop-gaps between singing  
and dancing1 should1 for the most part1 
not even possess the very elements of   
their art1 viz41 pure pronunciation1 and
 practised memory4 ,they seem to have no
 idea that their parts can be got by    

heart1 and hence1 in an ,italian        
theatre1 we hear every piece as it were 
twice over2 the prompter speaking as    
loud as a good player elsewhere1 and the
 actors in order to be distinguished    
from him bawling most insufferably4 ,it 
is exceedingly amusing to see the       
prompter1 when1 from the general        
forgetfulness1 a scene threatens to fall
 into confusion1 labouring away1 and    
stretching out his head like a serpent  
from his hole1 hurrying through the     
dialogue before the different speakers4 
,of all the actors in the world1 ,i     
conceive those of ,paris to have their  
parts best by heart2 in this1 as well as
 in the knowledge of versification1 the 
,germans are far inferior to them4  ,one
 of their living poets1 ,giovanni       
,pindemonti1 has endeavoured to         
introduce greater extent1 variety1 and  
nature into his historical plays1 but he
 has been severely handled by their     
critics for descending from the height  
of the cothurnus to attain that truth of

 circumstance without which it is       
impossible for this species of drama to 
exist2 perhaps also for deviating from  
the strict observation of the           
traditional rules1 so blindly worshipped
 by them4 ,if the ,italian verse be in  
fact so fastidious as not to consort    
with many historical peculiarities1     
modern names and titles for instance1   
let them write partly in prose1 and call
 the production not a tragedy1 but an   
historical drama4 ,it seems in general  
to be assumed as an undoubted principle1
 that the verso sciolto1 or rhymeless   
line1 of eleven syllables1 is alone fit 
for the drama1 but this does not seem to
 me to be by any means proved4 ,this    
verse1 in variety and metrical          
signification1 is greatly inferior to   
the ,english and ,german rhymeless      
iambic1 from its uniform feminine       
termination1 and from there being merely
 an accentuation in ,italian1 without   
any syllabic measure4 ,moreover1 from   
the frequent transition of the sense    

from verse to verse1 according to every 
possible division1 the lines flow into  
one another without its being possible  
for the ear to separate them4 ,alfieri  
imagined that he had found out the      
genuine dramatic manner of treating this
 verse correspondent to the form of his 
own dialogue1 which consists of simply  
detached periods1 or rather of          
propositions entirely unperiodical and  
abruptly terminated4 ,it is possible    
that he carried into his works a        
personal peculiarity1 for he is said to 
have been extremely laconic2 he was     
also1 as he himself relates1 influenced 
by the example of ,seneca3 but how      
different a lesson might he have learned
 from the ,greeks6 ,we do not1 it is    
true1 in conversation1 connect our      
language so closely as in an oratorical 
harangue1 but the opposite extreme is   
equally unnatural4 ,even in our common  
discourses1 we observe a certain        
continuity1 we give a development both  
to arguments and objections1 and in an  

instant passion will animate us to      
fulness of expression1 to a flow of     
eloquence1 and even to lyrical          
sublimity4 ,the ideal dialogue of       
,tragedy may therefore find in actual   
conversation all the various tones and  
turns of poetry1 with the exception of  
epic repose4 ,the metre therefore of    
,metastasio1 and before him1 of ,tasso  
and ,guarini1 in their pastoral dramas1 
seems to me much more agreeable and     
suitable than the monotonous verse of   
eleven syllables3 they intermingle with 
it verses of seven syllables1 and       
occasionally1 after a number of blank   
lines1 introduce a pair of rhymes1 and  
even insert a rhyme in the middle of a  
verse4 ,from this the transition to more
 measured strophes1 either in ottave    
rime1 or in direct lyrical metres1 would
 be easy4 ,rhyme1 and the connexion     
which it forms1 have nothing in them    
inconsistent with the essence of        
dramatic dialogue1 and the objection to 
change of measure in the drama rests    

merely on a chilling idea of regularity4
  ,no suitable versification for ,comedy
 has yet been invented in ,italy4 ,the  
verso sciolto1 it is well known1 does   
not answer2 it is not sufficiently      
familiar4 ,the verse of twelve          
syllables1 with a sdrucciolo termination
 selected by ,ariosto1 is much better1  
resembling the trimeter of the ancients1
 but is still somewhat monotonous4 ,it  
has been1 however1 but little           
cultivated4 ,the ,martellian verse1 a   
bad imitation of the ,alexandrine1 is a 
downright torture to the ear4 ,chiari1  
and occasionally ,goldoni1 came at last 
to use it1 and ,gozzi by way of         
derision4 ,it still remains therefore to
 the prejudice of a more elegant style  
of prose4  ,of ,comedy1 the modern      
,italians have nothing worth the name4  
,what they have1 are nothing but        
pictures of manners still more dull and 
superficial than those of ,goldoni1     
without drollery1 or invention1 and from
 their every-day commonplace1 downright 

disagreeable4 ,they have1 on the other  
hand1 acquired a true relish for the    
sentimental drama and familiar tragedy2 
they frequent with great partiality the 
representation of popular ,german pieces
 of this description1 and even produce  
the strangest and oddest imitations of  
them4 ,long accustomed to operas and    
ballets1 as their favourite             
entertainments1 wherein nothing is ever 
attempted beyond a beautiful air or an  
elegant movement1 the public seems      
altogether to have lost all sense of    
dramatic connexion3 they are perfectly  
satisfied with seeing the same evening  
two acts from different operas1 or even 
the last act of an opera before the     
first4  ,we believe1 therefore1 that we 
are not going too far if we affirm1 that
 both dramatic poetry and the histrionic
 art are in a lamentable state of       
decline in ,italy1 that not even the    
first foundations of a true national    
theatre have yet been laid1 and that    
there is no prospect of it1 till the    

prevailing ideas on the subject shall   
have undergone a total change4          
,calsabigi attributes the cause of this 
state to the want of permanent companies
 of players1 and of a capital4 ,in this 
last reason there is certainly some     
foundation3 in ,england1 ,spain1 and    
,france1 a national system of dramatic  
art has been developed and established2 
in ,italy and ,germany1 where there are 
only capitals of separate states1 but no
 general metropolis1 great difficulties 
are opposed to the improvement of the   
theatre4 ,calsabigi could not adduce the
 obstacles arising from a false theory1 
for he was himself under their          
influence4     ,,lecture ,,xvii4        
,antiquities of the ,french             
,stage--,influence of ,aristotle and the
 ,imitation of the                      
,ancients--,investigation of the ,three 
,unities--,what is ,unity of            
,action8--,unity of ,time--,was it      
observed by the ,greeks8--,unity of     
,place as connected with it4   ,we now  

proceed to the ,dramatic ,literature of 
,france4 ,we have no intention of       
dwelling at length on the first         
beginnings of ,tragedy in this country1 
and therefore leave to ,french critics  
the task of depreciating the antiquities
 of their own literature1 which1 with   
the mere view of adding to the glory of 
the later age of ,richelieu and ,louis  
,,xiv41 they so zealously enter upon4   
,their language1 it is true1 was at this
 time first cultivated1 from an         
indescribable waste of tastelessness and
 barbarity1 while the harmonious diction
 of the ,italian and ,spanish poetry1   
which had long before spontaneously     
developed itself in the most beautiful  
luxuriance1 was rapidly degenerating4   
,hence we are not to be astonished if   
the ,french lay such great stress on    
negative excellences1 and so carefully  
endeavour to avoid everything like      
impropriety1 and that from dread of     
relapse into rudeness this has ever     
since been the general object of their  

critical labours4 ,when ,la ,harpe says 
of the tragedies of ,corneille1 that    
their tone rises above flatness1 only to
 fall into the opposite extreme of      
affectation1 judging from the proofs    
which he adduces1 we see no reason to   
differ from him4 ,the publication       
recently of ,legouv's ,death of ,henry  
the ,fourth1 has led to the reprinting  
of a contemporary piece on the same     
subject1 which is not only written in a 
ludicrous style1 but in the general plan
 and distribution of the subject1 with  
its prologue spoken by ,satan1 and its  
chorus of pages1 with its endless       
monologues and want of progress and     
action1 betrays the infancy of the      
dramatic art2 not a nave infancy1 full  
of hope and promise1 but one disfigured 
by the most pedantic bombast and        
absurdity4 ,for a character of the      
earlier tragical attempts of the ,french
 in the last half of the sixteenth and  
the first thirty or forty years of the  
seventeenth century1 we refer to        

,fontenelle1 ,la ,harpe1 and the        
,mlanges ,littraires of ,suard and      
,andr4 ,we shall confine ourselves to   
the characteristics of three of their   
most celebrated tragic poets1           
,corneille1 ,racine1 and ,voltaire1 who1
 it would seem1 have given an immutable 
shape to their tragic stage4 ,our chief 
object1 however1 is an examination of   
the system of tragic art practically    
followed by these poets1 and by them1 in
 part1 but by the ,french critics       
universally1 considered as alone        
entitled to any authority1 and every    
deviation from it viewed as an offence  
against good taste4 ,if only the system 
be in itself the right one1 we shall be 
compelled to allow that its execution is
 masterly1 perhaps not to be surpassed4 
,but the great question here is3 how far
 the ,french tragedy is in spirit and   
inward essence related to the ,greek1   
and whether it deserves to be considered
 as an improvement upon it8  ,of the    
earlier attempts it is only necessary   

for us to observe1 that the endeavour to
 imitate the ancients showed itself from
 the very earliest period in ,france4   
,moreover1 they considered it the surest
 method of succeeding in this endeavour 
to observe the outward regularity of    
form1 of which their notion was derived 
from ,aristotle1 and especially from    
,seneca1 rather than from any intimate  
acquaintance with the ,greek models     
themselves4 ,in the first tragedies that
 were represented1 the ,cleopatra1 and  
,dido of ,jodelle1 a prologue and chorus
 were introduced2 ,jean de la ,peruse   
translated the ,medea of ,seneca2 and   
,garnier's pieces are all taken from the
 ,greek tragedies or from ,seneca1 but  
in the execution they bear a much closer
 resemblance to the latter4 ,the writers
 of that day1 moreover1 modelled        
themselves diligently on the ,sophonisbe
 of ,trissino1 in good confidence of its
 classic form4 ,whoever is acquainted   
with the procedure of true genius1 how  
it is impelled by an almost unconscious 

and immediate contemplation of great and
 important truths1 and in no wise by    
convictions obtained mediately1 and by  
circuitous deductions1 will be on that  
ground alone extremely suspicious of all
 activity in art which originates in an 
abstract theory4 ,but ,corneille did    
not1 like an antiquary1 execute his     
dramas as so many learned school        
exercises1 on the model of the ancients4
 ,seneca1 it is true1 led him astray1   
but he knew and loved the ,spanish      
theatre1 and it had a great influence on
 his mind4 ,the first of his pieces1    
with which1 according to general        
admission1 the classical aera of ,french
 tragedy commences1 and which is        
certainly one of his best1 the ,cid1 is 
well known to have been borrowed from   
the ,spanish4 ,it violates in a great   
degree the unity of place1 if not also  
that of time1 and it is animated        
throughout by the spirit of chivalrous  
love and honour4 ,but the opinion of his
 contemporaries1 that a tragedy must be 

framed in strict accordance with the    
rules of ,aristotle1 was so universally 
predominant1 that it bore down all      
opposition4 ,almost at the close of his 
dramatic career1 ,corneille began to    
entertain scruples of conscience1 and in
 a separate treatise endeavoured to     
prove that1 although in the composition 
of his pieces he had never even thought 
of ,aristotle1 they were yet all        
accurately written according to his     
rules4 ,this was no easy task1 and he   
was obliged to have recourse to all     
manner of forced explanations4 ,if he   
had been able to establish his case     
satisfactorily1 it would but lead to the
 inference that the rules of ,aristotle 
must be very loose and indeterminate1 if
 works so dissimilar in spirit and form1
 as the tragedies of the ,greeks and    
those of ,corneille are yet equally true
 to them4  ,it is quite otherwise with  
,racine3 of all the ,french poets he    
was1 without doubt1 the one who was best
 acquainted with the ancients2 and not  

merely did he study them as a scholar1  
he felt them also as a poet4 ,he found1 
however1 the practice of the theatre    
already firmly established1 and he did  
not1 for the sake of approaching these  
models1 undertake to deviate from it4   
,he contented himself1 therefore1 with  
appropriating the separate beauties of  
the ,greek poets2 but1 whether from     
deference to the taste of his age1 or   
from inclination1 he remained faithful  
to the prevailing gallantry so alien to 
the spirit of ,greek tragedy1 and1 for  
the most part1 made it the foundation of
 the complication of his plots4  ,such1 
nearly1 was the state of the ,french    
theatre before the appearance of        
,voltaire4 ,his knowledge of the ,greeks
 was very limited1 although he now and  
then spoke of them with enthusiasm1 in  
order1 on other occasions1 to rank them 
below the more modern masters of his own
 nation1 including himself still1 he    
always felt himself bound to preach up  
the grand severity and simplicity of the

 ,greeks as essential to ,tragedy4 ,he  
censured the deviations of his          
predecessors therefrom as mistakes1 and 
insisted on purifying and at the same   
time enlarging the stage1 as1 in his    
opinion1 from the constraint of court   
manners1 it had been almost straitened  
to the dimensions of an antechamber4 ,he
 at first spoke of ,shakspeare's bursts 
of genius1 and borrowed many things from
 this poet1 at that time altogether     
unknown to his countrymen2 he insisted1 
too1 on greater depth in the delineation
 of passion--on a stronger theatrical   
effect2 he called for a scene more      
majestically ornamented2 and1 lastly1 he
 frequently endeavoured to give to his  
pieces a political or philosophical     
interest altogether foreign to poetry4  
,his labours hare unquestionably been of
 utility to the ,french stage1 although 
in language and versification 7which in 
the classification of dramatic          
excellences ought only to hold a        
secondary place1 though in ,france they 

alone almost decide the fate of a       
piece71 he is1 by most critics1         
considered inferior to his predecessors1
 or at least to ,racine4 ,it is now the 
fashion to attack this idol of a bygone 
generation on every point1 and with the 
most unrelenting and partial hostility4 
,his innovations on the stage are       
therefore cried down as so many literary
 heresies1 even by watchmen of the      
critical ,zion1 who seem to think that  
the age of ,louis ,,xiv4 has left       
nothing for all succeeding time1 to the 
end of the world1 but a passive         
admiration of its perfections1 without a
 presumptuous thought of making         
improvements of its own4 ,for authority 
is avowed with so little disguise as the
 first principle of the ,french critics1
 that this expression of literary heresy
 is quite current with them4  ,in so far
 as we have to raise a doubt of the     
unconditional authority of the rules    
followed by the old ,french tragic      
authors1 of the pretended affinity      

between the spirit of their works and   
the spirit of the ,greek tragedians1 and
 of the indispensableness of many       
supposed proprieties1 we find an ally in
 ,voltaire4 ,but in many other points he
 has1 without examination1 nay even     
unconsciously1 adopted the maxims of his
 predecessors1 and followed their       
practice4 ,he is alike implicated with  
them in many opinions1 which are perhaps
 founded more on national peculiarities 
than on human nature and the essence of 
tragic poetry in general4 ,on this      
account we may include him in a common  
examination with them2 for we are here  
concerned not with the execution of     
particular parts1 but with the general  
principles of tragic art which reveal   
themselves in the shape of the works4   
,the consideration of the dramatic      
regularity for which these critics      
contend brings us back to the so-called 
,three ,unities of ,aristotle4 ,we shall
 therefore examine the doctrine         
delivered by the ,greek philosopher on  

this subject3 how far the ,greek        
tragedians knew or observed these rules2
 whether the ,french poets have in      
reality overcome the difficulty of      
observing them without the sacrifice of 
freedom and probability1 or merely      
dexterously avoided it2 and finally1    
whether the merit of this observance is 
actually so great and essential as it   
has been deemed1 and does not rather    
entail the sacrifice of still more      
essential beauties4  ,there is1 however1
 another aspect of ,french ,tragedy from
 which it cannot appeal to the authority
 of the ancients3 this is1 the tying of 
poetry to a number of merely            
conventional proprieties4 ,on this      
subject the ,french are far less clear  
than on that of the rules2 for nations  
are not usually more capable of knowing 
and appreciating themselves than        
individuals are4 ,it is1 however1       
intimately connected with the spirit of 
,french poetry in general1 nay1 rather  
of their whole literature and the very  

language itself4 ,all this1 in ,france1 
has been formed under the guardianship  
of society1 and1 in its progressive     
development1 has uniformly been guided  
and determined by it--the guardianship  
of a society which zealously imitated   
the tone of the capital1 which again    
took its direction from the reigning    
modes of a brilliant court4 ,if1 as     
there is indeed no difficulty in        
proving1 such be really the case1 we may
 easily conceive why ,french literature1
 of and since the age of ,louis ,,xiv41 
has been1 and still is1 so well received
 in the upper ranks of society and the  
fashionable world throughout ,europe1   
whereas the body of the people1         
everywhere true to their own customs and
 manners1 have never shown anything like
 a cordial liking for it4 ,in this way1 
even in foreign countries1 it again in  
some measure finds the place of its     
birth4  ,the far-famed ,three ,unities1 
which have given rise to a whole ,iliad 
of critical wars1 are the ,unities of   

,action1 ,time1 and ,place4  ,the       
validity of the first is universally    
allowed1 but the difficulty is to agree 
about its true meaning2 and1 ,i may add1
 that it is no easy matter to come to an
 understanding on the subject4  ,the    
,unities of ,time and of ,place are     
considered by some quite a subordinate  
matter1 while others lay the greatest   
stress upon them1 and affirm that out of
 the pale of them there is no safety for
 the dramatic poet4 ,in ,france this    
zeal is not confined merely to the      
learned world1 but seems to be shared by
 the whole nation in common4 ,every     
,frenchman who has sucked in his        
,boileau with his mother's milk1        
considers himself a born champion of the
 ,dramatic ,unities1 much in the same   
way that the kings of ,england since    
,henry ,,viii4 are hereditary ,defenders
 of the ,faith4  ,it is amusing enough  
to see ,aristotle driven perforce to    
lend his name to these three ,unities1  
whereas the only one of which he speaks 

with any degree of fulness is the first1
 the ,unity of ,action4 ,with respect to
 the ,unity of ,time he merely throws   
out a vague hint2 while of the ,unity of
 ,place he says not a syllable4  ,i do  
not1 therefore1 find myself in a        
polemical relation to ,aristotle1 for ,i
 by no means contest the ,unity of      
,action properly understood3 ,i only    
claim a greater latitude with respect to
 place and time for many species of the 
drama1 nay1 hold it essential to them4  
,in order1 however1 that we may view the
 matter in its true light1 ,i must first
 say a few words on the ,poetics of     
,aristotle1 those few pages which have  
given rise to such voluminous           
commentaries4  ,it is well established  
that this treatise is merely a fragment1
 for it does not even touch upon many   
important matters4 ,several scholars    
have even been of opinion1 that it is   
not a fragment of the true original1 but
 of an abridgment which some one had    
made for his own improvement4 ,on one   

point all philological critics are      
unanimous3 namely1 that the text is very
 much corrupted1 and they have          
endeavoured to restore it by conjectural
 emendations4 ,its great obscurity is   
either expressly complained of by       
commentators1 or substantiated by the   
fact1 that all in turn reject the       
interpretations of their predecessors1  
while they cannot approve their own to  
those who succeed them4  ,very different
 is it with the ,rhetoric of ,aristotle4
 ,it is undoubtedly genuine1 perfect1   
and easily understood4 ,but how does he 
there consider the oratorical art8 ,as a
 sister of ,logic3 for as this produces 
conviction by its syllogism1 so must    
,rhetoric in a kindred manner operate   
persuasion4 ,this is about the same as  
to consider architecture simply as the  
art of building solidly and             
conveniently4 ,this is1 certainly1 the  
first requisite1 but a great deal more  
is still necessary before we can        
consider it as one of the fine arts4    

,what we require of architecture is1    
that it should combine these essential  
objects of an edifice with beauty of    
plan and harmony of proportion1 and give
 to the whole a correspondent           
impression4 ,now when we see how        
,aristotle1 without allowing for        
imagination or feeling1 has viewed      
oratory only on that side which is      
accessible to the understanding1 and is 
subservient to an external aim1 can it  
surprise us if that he has still less   
fathomed the mystery of poetry1 that art
 which is absolved from every other aim 
but its own unconditional one of        
creating the beautiful by free invention
 and clothing it in suitable            
language8--,already have ,i had the     
hardihood to maintain this heresy1 and  
hitherto ,i have seen no reason for     
retracting my opinion4 ,lessing thought 
otherwise4 ,but what if ,lessing1 with  
his acute analytical criticism1 split   
exactly on the same rock8 ,this species 
of criticism is completely victorious   

when it exposes the contradictions for  
the understanding in works composed     
exclusively with the understanding2 but 
it could hardly rise to the idea of a   
work of art created by the true genius4 
,the philosophical theory of the fine   
arts collectively was1 as a distinct    
science1 little cultivated among the    
ancients2 of technical works on the     
several arts individually1 in which the 
means of execution were alone           
considered1 they had no lack4 ,were ,i  
to select a guide from among the ancient
 philosophers1 it should undoubtedly be 
,plato1 who acquired the idea of the    
beautiful not by dissection1 which never
 can give it1 but by intuitive          
inspiration1 and in whose works the     
germs of a genuine ,philosophy of ,art1 
are every where scattered4  ,let us now 
hear what ,aristotle says on the ,unity 
of ,action4  ,we affirm that ,tragedy is
 the imitation of a perfect and entire  
action which has a certain magnitude3   
for there may be a whole without any    

magnitude whatever4 ,now a whole is what
 has a beginning1 middle1 and end4 ,a   
beginning is that which is not          
necessarily after some other thing1 but 
that which from its nature has something
 after it1 or arising out of it4 ,an    
end1 on the other hand1 is that which   
from its nature is after something else1
 either necessarily1 or usually1 but    
after which there is nothing1 ,a middle1
 what is itself after some other thing1 
and after which also there is something4
 ,hence poems which are properly        
composed must neither begin nor end     
accidentally1 but according to the      
principles above laid down4  ,strictly  
speaking1 it is a contradiction in terms
 to say that a whole1 which has parts1  
can be without magnitude4 ,but          
,aristotle goes on to state1 in         
explanation1 that by magnitude as a     
requisition of beauty1 he means1 a      
certain measure which is neither so     
small as to preclude us from            
distinguishing its parts1 nor so        

extensive as to prevent us from taking  
the whole in at one view4 ,this is1     
therefore1 merely an external definition
 of the beautiful1 derived from         
experience1 and founded on the quality  
of our organs of sense and our powers of
 comprehension4 ,however1 his           
application of it to the drama is       
remarkable4 ,it must have an extension1 
but such as may easily be taken in by   
the memory4 ,the determination of the   
length according to the wants of the    
representation1 does not come within the
 province of ,art4 ,with respect to the 
essence of the thing1 the composition   
will be the more beautiful the more     
extensive it is without prejudice to its
 comprehensibility4 ,this assertion     
would be highly favourable for the      
compositions of ,shakspeare and of other
 romantic poets1 who have included in   
one picture a more extensive circle of  
life1 characters1 and events1 than is to
 be found in the simple ,greek tragedy1 
if only we could show that they have    

given it the necessary unity1 and such a
 magnitude as can be clearly taken in at
 a view1 and this we have no hesitation 
in affirming to be actually the case4   
,in another place ,aristotle requires   
the same unity of action from the epic  
as from the dramatic poet2 he repeats   
the preceding definitions1 and says that
 the poet must not resemble the         
historian1 who relates contemporary     
events1 although they have no bearing on
 one another4 ,here we have still a more
 express demand of that connexion of    
cause and effect between the represented
 events1 which before1 in his           
explanation of the parts of a whole1 was
 at most implied4 ,he admits1 however1  
that the epic poet may take in a much   
greater number of events connected with 
one main action1 since the narrative    
form enables him to describe many things
 as going on at the same time2 on the   
other hand1 the dramatic poet cannot    
represent several simultaneous actions1 
but only so much as is going on upon the

 stage1 and the part which the persons  
who appear there take in one action4    
,but what if a different construction of
 the scene1 and a more skilful theatric 
perspective1 should enable the dramatic 
poet1 duly and without confusion1       
although in a more compressed space1 to 
develope a fable not inferior in extent 
to the epic poem8 ,where would be the   
objection1 if the only obstacle were the
 supposed impossibility8  ,this is      
nearly all that is to be found in the   
,poetics of ,aristotle on ,unity of     
,action4 ,a short investigation will    
serve to show how very much these       
anatomical ideas1 which have been       
stamped as rules1 are below the         
essential requisites of poetry4  ,unity 
of ,action is required4 ,what is action8
 ,most critics pass over this point1 as 
if it were self-evident ,in the higher1 
proper signification1 action is an      
activity dependent on the will of man4  
,its unity will consist in the direction
 towards a single end2 and to its       

completeness belongs all that lies      
between the first determination and the 
execution of the deed4  ,this idea of   
action is applicable to many tragedies  
of the ancients 7for instance1 ,orestes'
 murder of his mother1 ,oedipus'        
determination to discover and punish the
 murderer of ,laius71 but by no means to
 all2 still less does it apply to the   
greater part of modern tragedies1 at    
least if the action is to be sought in  
the principal characters4 ,what comes to
 pass through them1 and proceeds with   
them1 has frequently no more connexion  
with a voluntary determination1 than a  
ship's striking on a rock in a storm4   
,but further1 in the term action1 as    
understood by the ancients1 we must     
include the resolution to bear the      
consequences of the deed with heroic    
magnanimity1 and the execution of this  
determination will belong to its        
completion4 ,the pious resolve of       
,antigone to perform the last duties to 
her unburied brother is soon executed   

and without difficulty2 but genuineness1
 on which alone rests its claim to be a 
fit subject for a tragedy1 is only      
subsequently proved when1 without       
repentance1 and without any symptoms of 
weakness1 she suffers death as its      
penalty4 ,and to take an example from   
quite a different sphere1 is not        
,shakspeare's ,julius ,caesar1 as       
respects the action1 constructed on the 
same principle8 ,brutus is the hero of  
the piece2 the completion of his great  
resolve does not consist in the mere    
assassination of ,caesar 7an action     
ambiguous in itself1 and of which the   
motives might have been ambition and    
jealousy71 but in this1 that he proves  
himself the pure champion of ,roman     
liberty1 by the calm sacrifice of his   
amiable life4  ,farther1 there could be 
no complication of the plot without     
opposition1 and this arises mostly out  
of the contradictory motives and views  
of the acting personages4 ,if1          
therefore1 we limit the notion of an    

action to the determination and the     
deed1 then we shall1 in most cases1 have
 two or three actions in a single       
tragedy4 ,which now is the principal    
action8 ,every person thinks his own the
 most important1 for every man is his   
own central point4 ,creon's             
determination to maintain his kingly    
authority1 by punishing the burial of   
,polynices with death1 is equally fixed 
with ,antigone's determination1 equally 
important1 and1 as we see at the end1   
not less dangerous1 as it draws after it
 the ruin of his whole house4 ,it may be
 perhaps urged that the merely negative 
determination is to be considered simply
 as the complement of the affirmative4  
,but what if each determines on         
something not exactly opposite1 but     
altogether different8 ,in the           
,andromache of ,bacine1 ,orestes wishes 
to move ,hermione to return his love2   
,hermione is resolved to compel ,pyrrhus
 to marry her1 or she will be revenged  
on him2 ,pyrrhus wishes to be rid of    

,hermione1 and to be united to          
,andromache2 ,andromache is desirous of 
saving her son1 and at the same time    
remaining true to the memory of her     
husband4 ,yet nobody ever questioned the
 unity of this piece1 as the whole has a
 common connexion1 and ends with one    
common catastrophe4 ,but which of the   
actions of the four persons is the main 
action8 ,in strength of passion1 their  
endeavours are pretty nearly equal--in  
all the whole happiness of life is at   
stake2 the action of ,andromache has1   
however1 the advantage in moral dignity1
 and ,racine was therefore perfectly    
right in naming the piece after her4    
,we see here a new condition in the     
notion of action1 namely1 the reference 
to the idea of moral liberty1 by which  
alone man is considered as the original 
author of his own resolutions4 ,for1    
considered within the province of       
experience1 the resolution1 as the      
beginning of action1 is not a cause     
merely1 but is also an effect of        

antecedent motives4 ,it was in this     
reference to a higher idea1 that we     
previously found the unity and wholeness
 of ,tragedy in the sense of the        
ancients2 namely1 its absolute beginning
 is the assertion of ,free-will1 and the
 acknowledgment of ,necessity its       
absolute end4 ,but we consider ourselves
 justified in affirming that ,aristotle 
was altogether a stranger to this view2 
he nowhere speaks of the idea of        
,destiny as essential to ,tragedy4 ,in  
fact1 we must not expect from him a     
strict idea of action as a resolution   
and deed4 ,he says somewhere--,the      
extent of a tragedy is always           
sufficiently great1 if1 by a series of  
probable or necessary consequences1 a   
reverse from adversity to prosperity1 or
 from happiness to misery1 is brought   
about4 ,it is evident1 therefore1 that  
he1 like all the moderns1 understood by 
action something merely that takes      
place4 ,this action1 according to him1  
must have beginning1 middle1 and end1   

and consequently consist of a plurality 
of connected events4 ,but where are the 
limits of this plurality8 ,is not the   
concatenation of causes and effects1    
backwards and forwards1 without end8 and
 may we then1 with equal propriety1     
begin and break off wherever we please8 
,in this province1 can there be either  
beginning or end1 corresponding to      
,aristotle's very accurate definition of
 these notions8 ,completeness would     
therefore be altogether impossible4 ,if1
 however1 for the unity of a plurality  
of events nothing more is requisite than
 casual connexion1 then this rule is    
indefinite in the extreme1 and the unity
 admits of being narrowed or enlarged at
 pleasure4 ,for every series of         
incidents or actions1 which are         
occasioned by each other1 however much  
it be prolonged1 may always be          
comprehended under a single point of    
view1 and denoted by a single name4     
,when ,calderon in a single drama       
describes the conversion of ,peru to    

,christianity1 from its very beginning  
7that is1 from the discovery of the     
country7 down to its completion1 and    
when nothing actually occurs in the     
piece which had not some influence on   
that event1 does he not give us as much 
,unity in the above sense as the        
simplest ,greek tragedy1 which1 however1
 the champions of ,aristotle's rules    
will by no means allow8  ,corneille was 
well aware of the difficulty of a proper
 definition of unity1 as applicable to  
an inevitable plurality of subordinate  
actions2 and in this way did he         
endeavour to get rid of it4 ,i assume1  
says he1 that in ,comedy1 ,unity of     
,action consists in ,unity of the       
,intrigue2 that is1 of the obstacles    
raised to the designs of the principal  
persons2 and in ,tragedy1 in the unity  
of the danger1 whether the hero sinks   
under1 or extricates himself from it4   
,by this1 however1 ,i do not mean to    
assert that several dangers in ,tragedy1
 and several intrigues or obstacles in  

,comedy1 may not be allowable1 provided 
only that the personage falls           
necessarily from one into the other2 for
 then the escape from the first danger  
does not make the action complete1 for  
it draws a second after it1 as also the 
clearing up of one intrigue does not    
place the acting persons at their ease1 
because it involves them in another4    
,in the first place the difference here 
assumed between tragic and comic ,unity 
is altogether unessential4 ,for the     
manner of putting the play together is  
not influenced by the circumstance1 that
 the incidents in ,tragedy are more     
serious1 as affecting person and life2  
the embarrassment of the characters in  
,comedy when they cannot accomplish     
their design and intrigues1 may equally 
be termed a danger4 ,corneille1 like    
most others1 refers all to the idea of  
connexion between cause and effect4 ,no 
doubt when the principal persons1 either
 by marriage or death1 are set at rest1 
the drama comes to a close2 but if      

nothing more is necessary to its ,unity 
than the uninterrupted progress of an   
opposition1 which serves to keep up the 
dramatic movement1 simplicity will then 
come but poorly off3 for1 without       
violating this rule of ,unity1 we may go
 on to an almost endless accumulation of
 events1 as in the ,thousand and ,one   
,nights1 where the thread of the story  
is never once broken4  ,de la ,motte1 a 
,french author1 who wrote against the   
,unities in general1 would substitute   
for ,unity of action1 the ,unity of     
interest4 ,if the term be not confined  
to the interest in the destinies of some
 single personage1 but is taken to mean 
in general the direction which the mind 
takes at the sight of an event1 this    
explanation1 so understood1 seems most  
satisfactory and very near the truth4   
,but we should derive but little        
advantage from groping about empirically
 with the commentators on ,aristotle4   
,the idea of ,one and ,whole is in no   
way whatever derived from experience1   

but arises out of the primary and       
spontaneous activity of the human mind4 
,to account for the manner in which we  
in general arrive at this idea1 and come
 to think of one and a whole1 would     
require nothing short of a system of    
metaphysics4  ,the external sense       
perceives in objects only an indefinite 
plurality of distinguishable parts2 the 
judgment1 by which we comprehend these  
into an entire and perfect unity1 is in 
all cases founded on a reference to a   
higher sphere of ideas4 ,thus1 for      
example1 the mechanical unity of a watch
 consists in its aim of measuring time2 
this aim1 however1 exists only for the  
understanding1 and is neither visible to
 the eye1 nor palpable to the touch3 the
 organic unity of a plant or an animal  
consists in the idea of life2 but the   
inward intuition of life1 which1 in     
itself uncorporeal1 nevertheless        
manifests itself through the medium of  
the corporeal world1 is brought by us to
 the observation of the individual      

living object1 otherwise we could not   
obtain it from that object4  ,the       
separate parts of a work of art1 and 7to
 return to the question before us17 the 
separate parts1 consequently1 of a      
tragedy1 must not be taken in by the eye
 and ear alone1 but also comprehended by
 the understanding4 ,collectively1      
however1 they are all subservient to one
 common aim1 namely1 to produce a joint 
impression on the mind4 ,here1          
therefore1 as in the above examples1 the
 ,unity lies in a higher sphere1 in the 
feeling or in the reference to ideas4   
,this is all one2 for the feeling1 so   
far as it is not merely sensual and     
passive1 is our sense1 our organ for the
 ,infinite1 which forms itself into     
ideas for us4  ,far1 therefore1 from    
rejecting the law of a perfect ,unity in
 ,tragedy as unnecessary1 ,i require a  
deeper1 more intrinsic1 and more        
mysterious unity than that with which   
most critics are satisfied4 ,this ,unity
 ,i find in the tragical compositions of

 ,shakspeare1 in as great perfection as 
in those of ,aeschylus and ,sophocles2  
while1 on the contrary1 ,i do not find  
it in many of those tragedies which     
nevertheless are lauded as correct by   
the critics of the dissecting school4   
,logical coherence1 the causal          
connexion1 ,i hold to be equally        
essential to ,tragedy and every serious 
drama1 because all the mental powers act
 and react upon each other1 and if the  
,understanding be compelled to take a   
leap1 ,imagination and ,feeling do not  
follow the composition with equal       
alacrity4 ,but unfortunately the        
champions of what is called regularity  
have applied this rule with a degree of 
petty subtlety1 which can have no other 
effect than that of cramping the poet1  
and rendering true excellence           
impossible4  ,we must not suppose that  
the order of sequences in a tragedy     
resembles a slender thread1 of which we 
are every moment in anxious dread lest  
it should snap4 ,this simile is by no   

means applicable1 for it is admitted    
that a plurality of subordinate actions 
and interests is inevitable2 but rather 
let us suppose it a mighty stream1 which
 in its impetuous course overcomes many 
obstructions1 and loses itself at last  
in the repose of the ocean4 ,it springs 
perhaps from different sources1 and     
certainly receives into itself other    
rivers1 which hasten towards it from    
opposite regions4 ,why should not the   
poet be allowed to carry on several1    
and1 for a while1 independent streams of
 human passions and endeavours1 down to 
the moment of their raging junction1 if 
only he can place the spectator on an   
eminence from whence he may overlook the
 whole of their course8 ,and if this    
great and swollen body of waters again  
divide into several branches1 and pour  
itself into the sea by several mouths1  
is it not still one and the same stream8
  ,so much for the ,unity of ,action4   
,with respect to the ,unity of ,time1 we
 find in ,aristotle no more than the    

following passage3 ,moreover1 the ,epos 
is distinguished from ,tragedy by its   
length3 for the latter seeks as far as  
possible to circumscribe itself within  
one revolution of the sun1 or to exceed 
it but little2 the ,epos is unlimited in
 point of time1 and in that respect     
differs from ,tragedy4 ,at first1       
however1 the case was in this respect   
alike in tragedies and epic poems4  ,we 
may in the first place observe that     
,aristotle is not giving a precept here1
 but only making historical mention of a
 peculiarity which he observed in the   
,grecian examples before him4 ,but what 
if the ,greek tragedians had particular 
reasons for circumscribing themselves   
within this extent of time1 which with  
the constitution of our theatres no     
longer exist8 ,we shall immediately see 
that this was really the case4          
,corneille with great reason finds the  
rule extremely inconvenient2 he         
therefore prefers the more lenient      
interpretation1 and says1 he would not  

scruple to extend the duration of the   
action even to thirty hours4 ,others1   
however1 most rigorously insist on the  
principle that the action should not    
occupy a longer period than that of its 
representation1 that is to say1 from two
 to three hours4--,the dramatic poet    
must1 according to them1 be punctual to 
his hour4 ,in the main1 the latter plead
 a sounder cause than the more lenient  
critics4 ,for the only ground of the    
rule is the observation of a probability
 which they suppose to be necessary for 
illusion1 namely1 that the actual time  
and that of the representation should be
 the same4 ,if once a discrepancy be    
allowed1 such as the difference between 
two hours and thirty1 we may upon the   
same principle go much farther4 ,this   
idea of illusion has occasioned great   
errors in the theory of art4 ,by this   
term there has often been understood the
 unwittingly erroneous belief that the  
represented action is reality4 ,in that 
case the terrors of ,tragedy would be a 

true torture to us1 they would be like  
an ,alpine load on the fancy4 ,no1 the  
theatrical as well as every other       
poetical illusion1 is a waking dream1 to
 which we voluntarily surrender         
ourselves4 ,to produce it1 the poet and 
actors must powerfully agitate the mind1
 and the probabilities of calculation do
 not in the least contribute towards it4
 ,this demand of literal deception1     
pushed to the extreme1 would make all   
poetic form impossible2 for we know well
 that the mythological and historical   
persons did not speak our language1 that
 impassioned grief does not express     
itself in verse1 c4 ,what an unpoetical 
spectator were he who1 instead of       
following the incidents with his        
sympathy1 should1 like a gaoler1 with   
watch or hour-glass in hand1 count out  
to the heroes of the tragedy1 the       
minutes which they still have to live   
and act6 ,is our soul then a piece of   
clock-work1 that tells the hours and    
minutes with infallible accuracy8 ,has  

it not rather very different measures of
 time for agreeable occupation and for  
wearisomeness8 ,in the one case1 under  
an easy and varied activity1 the hours  
fly apace2 in the other1 while we feel  
all our mental powers clogged and       
impeded1 they are stretched out to an   
immeasurable length4 ,thus it is during 
the present1 but in memory quite the    
reverse3 the interval of dull and empty 
uniformity vanishes in a moment2 while  
that which marks an abundance of varied 
impressions grows and widens in the same
 proportion4 ,our body is subjected to  
external astronomical time1 because the 
organical operations are regulated by   
it2 but our mind has its own ideal time1
 which is no other but the consciousness
 of the progressive development of our  
beings4 ,in this measure of time the    
intervals of an indifferent inactivity  
pass for nothing1 and two important     
moments1 though they lie years apart1   
link themselves immediately to each     
other4 ,thus1 when we have been         

intensely engaged with any matter before
 we fell asleep1 we often resume the    
very same train of thought the instant  
we awake and the intervening dreams     
vanish into their unsubstantial         
obscurity4 ,it is the same with dramatic
 exhibition3 our imagination overleaps  
with ease the times which are           
presupposed and intimated1 but which are
 omitted because nothing important takes
 place in them2 it dwells solely on the 
decisive moments placed before it1 by   
the compression of which the poet gives 
wings to the lazy course of days and    
hours4  ,but1 it will be objected1 the  
ancient tragedians at least observed the
 ,unity of ,time4 ,this expression is by
 no means precise2 it should at least be
 the identity of the imaginary with the 
material time4 ,but even then it does   
not apply to the ancients3 what they    
observe is nothing but the seeming      
continuity of time4 ,it is of importance
 to attend to this distinction--the     
seeming2 for they unquestionably allow  

much more to take place during the      
choral songs than could really happen   
within their actual duration4 ,thus the 
,agamemnon of ,aeschylus comprises the  
whole interval1 from the destruction of 
,troy to his arrival in ,mycenae1 which1
 it is plain1 must have consisted of a  
very considerable number of days2 in the
 ,trachiniae of ,sophocles1 during the  
course of the play1 the voyage from     
,thessaly to ,euboea is thrice          
performed2 and again1 in the ,supplices 
of ,euripides1 during a single choral   
one1 the entire march of an army from   
,athens to ,thebes is supposed to take  
place1 a battle to be fought1 and the   
,general to return victorious4 ,so far  
were the ,greeks from this sort of      
minute and painful calculations6 ,they  
had1 however1 a particular reason for   
observing the seeming continuity of time
 in the constant presence of the        
,chorus4 ,when the ,chorus leaves the   
stage1 the continuous progress is       
interrupted2 of this we have a striking 

instance in the ,eumenides of           
,aeschylus1 where the whole interval is 
omitted which was necessary to allow    
,orestes to proceed from ,delphi to     
,athens4 ,moreover1 between the three   
pieces of a trilogy1 which were acted   
consecutively1 and were intended to     
constitute a whole1 there were saps of  
time as considerable as those between   
the three acts of many a ,spanish drama4
  ,the moderns have1 in the division of 
their plays into acts1 which1 properly  
speaking1 were unknown to ,greek        
,tragedy1 a convenient means of         
extending the period of representation  
without any ill effect4 ,for the poet   
may fairly reckon so far on the         
spectator's imagination as to presume   
that during the entire suspension of the
 representation1 he will readily        
conceive a much longer interval to have 
elapsed than that which is measured by  
the rhythmical time of the music between
 the acts2 otherwise to make it appear  
the more natural to him1 it might be as 

well to invite him to come and see the  
next act to-morrow4 ,the division into  
acts had its origin with the ,new       
,comedy1 in consequence of the exclusion
 of the chorus4 ,horace prescribes the  
condition of a regular play1 that it    
should have neither more nor less than  
five acts4 ,the rule is so unessential1 
that ,wieland thought ,horace was here  
laughing at the young ,pisos in urging a
 precept like this with such solemnity  
of tone as if it were really of         
importance4 ,if in the ancient ,tragedy 
we may mark it as the conclusion of an  
act wherever the stage remains empty1   
and the chorus is left alone to proceed 
with its dance and ode1 we shall often  
have fewer than five acts1 but often    
also more than five4 ,as an observation 
that in a representation1 between two or
 three hours long1 such a number of     
rests are necessary for the attention1  
it may be allowed to pass4 ,but1        
considered in any other light1 ,i should
 like to hear a reason for it1 grounded 

on the nature of ,dramatic ,poetry1 why 
a drama must have so many and only so   
many divisions4 ,but the world is       
governed by prescription and tradition3 
a smaller number of acts has been       
tolerated2 to transgress the consecrated
 number of five ,footnote3 ,three       
unities1 five acts3 why not seven       
persons8 ,these rules seem to proceed   
according to odd numbers4 is still      
considered a dangerous and atrocious    
profanation4  ,as a general rule1 the   
division into acts seems to me          
erroneous1 when1 as is so often the case
 in modern plays1 nothing takes place in
 the intervals between them1 and when   
the persons at the beginning of the new 
act are exhibited in exactly the same   
situation as at the close of the        
foregoing one4 ,and yet this stand-still
 has given much less offence than the   
assumption of a considerable interval1  
or of incidents omitted in the          
representation1 because the former is   
merely a negative error4  ,the romantic 

poets take the liberty even of changing 
the scene during the course of an act4  
,as the stage is always previously left 
empty1 these also are such interruptions
 of the continuity1 as would warrant    
them in the assumption of as many       
intervals4 ,if we stumble at this1 but  
admit the propriety of a division into  
acts1 we have only to consider these    
changes of scene in the light of a      
greater number of short acts4 ,but then1
 it will perhaps be objected1 this is   
but justifying one error by another1 the
 violation of the ,unity of ,time by the
 violation of the ,unity of ,place3 we  
shall1 therefore1 proceed to examine    
more at length how far the last-        
mentioned rule is indispensable4  ,in   
vain1 as we have already said1 shall we 
look to ,aristotle for any opinion on   
this subject4 ,it is asserted that the  
rule was observed by the ancients4 ,not 
always1 only generally4 ,of seven plays 
by ,aeschylus1 and the same number by   
,sophocles1 there are two1 the          

,eumenides and the ,ajax1 in which the  
scene is changed4 ,that they generally  
retain the same scene follows naturally 
from the constant presence of the       
chorus1 which must be got rid of by some
 suitable device before there can be a  
change of place4 ,and then1 again1 it   
must not be forgotten1 that their scene 
represented a much wider extent than in 
most cases ours does2 not a mere room1  
but the open space before several       
buildings3 and the disclosing the       
interior of a house by means of the     
encyclema1 may be considered in the same
 light as the drawing a back curtain on 
our stage4  ,the objection to the change
 of scene is founded on the same        
erroneous idea of illusion which we have
 already discussed4 ,to transfer the    
action to another place would1 it is    
urged1 dispel the illusion4 ,but now if 
we are in reality to consider the       
imaginary for the actual place1 then    
must stage decoration and scenery be    
altogether different from what it now   

is4 ,footnote3 ,it is calculated merely 
for a single point of view3 seen from   
every other point1 the broken lines     
betray the imperfection of the          
imitation4 ,even as to the architectural
 import1 so little attention do the     
audience in general pay to these        
niceties1 that they are not even shocked
 when the actors enter and disappear    
through a wall without a door1 between  
the side scenes4 ,johnson1 a critic who1
 in general1 is an advocate for the     
strict rules1 very justly observes1 that
 if our imagination once goes the length
 of transporting us eighteen hundred    
years back to ,alexandria1 in order to  
figure to ourselves the story of ,antony
 and ,cleopatra as actually taking place
 before us1 the next step1 of           
transporting ourselves from ,alexandria 
to ,rome1 is easier4 ,the capability of 
our mind to fly in thought1 with the    
rapidity of lightning1 through the      
immensity of time and space1 is well    
known and acknowledged in common life2  

and shall poetry1 whose very purpose it 
is to add all manner of wings to our    
mind1 and which has at command all the  
magic of genuine illusion1 that is1 of a
 lively and enrapturing fiction1 be     
alone compelled to renounce this        
universal prerogative8  ,voltaire wishes
 to derive the ,unity of ,place and     
,time from the ,unity of ,action1 but   
his reasoning is shallow in the extreme4
 ,for the same reason1 says he1 the     
,unity of ,place is essential1 because  
no one action can go on in several      
places at once4 ,but still1 as we have  
already seen1 several persons           
necessarily take part in the one        
principal action1 since it consists of a
 plurality of subordinate actions1 and  
what should hinder these from proceeding
 in different places at the same time8  
,is not the same war frequently carried 
on simultaneously in ,europe and ,india2
 and must not the historian recount     
alike in his narrative the events which 
take place on both these scenes8  ,the  

,unity of ,time1 he adds1 is naturally  
connected with the two first4 ,if the   
poet represents a conspiracy1 and       
extends the action to fourteen days1 he 
must account to me for all that takes   
place in these fourteen days4 ,yes1 for 
all that belongs to the matter in hand2 
all the rest1 being extraneous to it1 he
 passes over in silence1 as every good  
storyteller would1 and no person ever   
thinks of the omission4 ,if1 therefore1 
he places before me the events of       
fourteen days1 this gives at least      
fourteen different actions1 however     
small they may be4 ,no doubt1 if the    
poet were so unskilful as to wind off   
the fourteen days one after another with
 visible precision2 if day and night are
 just so often to come and go and the   
characters to go to bed and get up again
 just so many times4 ,but the clever    
poet thrusts into the background all the
 intervals which are connected with no  
perceptible progress in the action1 and 
in his picture annihilates all the      

pauses of absolute stand-still1 and     
contrives1 though with a rapid touch1 to
 convey an accurate idea of the period  
supposed to have elapsed4 ,but why is   
the privilege of adopting a much wider  
space between the two extremes of the   
piece than the material time of the     
representation important to the         
dramatist1 and even indispensable to him
 in many subjects8 ,the example of a    
conspiracy given by ,voltaire comes in  
here very opportunely4  ,a conspiracy   
plotted and executed in two hours is1 in
 the first place1 an incredible thing4  
,moreover1 with reference to the        
characters of the personages of the     
piece1 such a plot is very different    
from one in which the conceived purpose1
 however dangerous1 is silently         
persevered in by all the parties for a  
considerable time4 ,though the poet does
 not admit this lapse of time into his  
exhibition immediately1 in the midst of 
the characters1 as in a mirror1 he gives
 us as it were a perspective view of it4

 ,in this sort of perspective           
,shakspeare is the greatest master ,i   
know3 a single word frequently opens to 
view an almost interminable vista of    
antecedent states of mind4 ,confined    
within the narrow limits of time1 the   
poet is in many subjects obliged to     
mutilate the action1 by beginning close 
to the last decisive stroke1 or else he 
is under the necessity of unsuitably    
hurrying on its progress3 on either     
supposition he must reduce within petty 
dimensions the grand picture of a strong
 purpose1 which is no momentary         
ebullition1 but a firm resolve          
undauntedly maintained in the midst of  
all external vicissitudes1 till the time
 is ripe for its execution4 ,it is no   
longer what ,shakspeare has so often    
painted1 and what he has described in   
the following lines3--    ,between the  
acting of a dreadful thing1   ,and the  
first motion1 all the interim is   ,like
 a phantasma1 or a hideous dream3   ,the
 genius1 and the mortal instruments1    

,are then in council2 and the state of  
man1   ,like to a little kingdom1       
suffers then   ,the nature of an        
insurrection4  ,but why are the ,greek  
and romantic poets so different in their
 practice with respect to place and     
time8 ,the spirit of our criticism will 
not allow us to follow the practice of  
many critics1 who so summarily pronounce
 the latter to be barbarians4 ,on the   
contrary1 we conceive that they lived in
 very cultivated times1 and were        
themselves highly cultivated men4 ,as to
 the ancients1 besides the structure of 
their stage1 which1 as we have already  
said1 led naturally to the seeming      
continuity of time and to the absence of
 change of scene1 their observance of   
this practice was also favoured by the  
nature of the materials on which the    
,grecian dramatist had to work4 ,these  
materials were mythology1 and1          
consequently1 a fiction1 which1 under   
the handling of preceding poets1 had    
collected into continuous and           

perspicuous masses1 what in reality was 
detached and scattered about in various 
ways4 ,moreover1 the heroic age which   
they painted was at once extremely      
simple in its manners1 and marvellous in
 its incidents2 and hence everything of 
itself went straight to the mark of a   
tragic resolution4  ,but the principal  
cause of the difference lies in the     
plastic spirit of the antique1 and the  
picturesque spirit of the romantic      
poetry4 ,sculpture directs our attention
 exclusively to the group which it sets 
before us1 it divests it as far as      
possible from all external              
accompaniments1 and where they cannot be
 dispensed with1 it indicates them as   
slightly as possible4 ,painting1 on the 
other hand1 delights in exhibiting1     
along with the principal figures1 all   
the details of the surrounding locality 
and all secondary circumstances1 and to 
open a prospect into a boundless        
distance in the background2 and light   
and shade with perspective are its      

peculiar charms4 ,hence the ,dramatic1  
and especially the ,tragic ,art1 of the 
ancients1 annihilates in some measure   
the external circumstances of space and 
time2 while1 by their changes1 the      
romantic drama adorns its more varied   
pictures4 ,or1 to express myself in     
other terms1 the principle of the       
antique poetry is ideal2 that of the    
romantic is mystical3 the former        
subjects space and time to the internal 
free-agency of the mind2 the latter     
honours these incomprehensible essences 
as supernatural powers1 in which there  
is somewhat of indwelling divinity4     
,,lecture ,,xviii4  ,mischief resulting 
to the ,french ,stage from too narrow   
,interpretation of the ,rules of        
,unity--,influence of these rules on    
,french ,tragedy--,manner of treating   
,mythological and ,historical           
,materials--,idea of ,tragical          
,dignity-- ,observation of ,conventional
 ,rules--,false ,system of ,expositions4
   ,i come now to the influence which   

the above rules of ,unity1 strictly     
interpreted and received as inviolable1 
have1 with other conventional rules1    
exercised on the shape of ,french       
tragedy4  ,with the stage of a wholly   
different structure1 with materials for 
the most part dissimilar1 and handled in
 an opposite spirit1 they were still    
desirous of retaining the rules of the  
ancient ,tragedy1 so far as they are to 
be learnt from ,aristotle4  ,they       
prescribed the same simplicity of action
 as the ,grecian ,tragedy observed1 and 
yet rejected the lyrical part1 which is 
a protracted development of the present 
moment1 and consequently a stand-still  
of the action4 ,this part could not1 it 
is true1 be retained1 since we no longer
 possess the ancient music1 which was   
subservient to the poetry1 instead of   
overbearing it as ours does4 ,if we     
deduct from the ,greek ,tragedies the   
choral odes1 and the lyrical pieces     
which are occasionally put into the     
mouths of individuals1 they will be     

found nearly one-half shorter than an   
ordinary ,french tragedy4 ,voltaire1 in 
his prefaces1 frequently complains of   
the great difficulty in procuring       
materials for five long acts4 ,how now  
have the gaps arising from the omission 
of the lyrical parts been filled up8 ,by
 intrigue4 ,while with the ,greeks the  
action1 measured by a few great moments1
 rolls on uninterruptedly to its issue1 
the ,french have introduced many        
secondary characters almost exclusively 
with the view that their opposite       
purposes may give rise to a multitude of
 impeding incidents1 to keep up our     
attention1 or rather our curiosity1 to  
the close4 ,there was now an end        
therefore of everything like simplicity2
 still they flattered themselves that   
they had1 by means of an artificial     
coherence1 preserved at least a unity   
for the understanding4  ,intrigue is    
not1 in itself1 a ,tragical motive2 to  
,comedy1 it is essential1 as we have    
already shown4 ,comedy1 even at its     

close1 must often be satisfied with mere
 suppositions for the understanding2 but
 this is by no means the poetic side of 
this demi-prosaic species of the ,drama4
 ,although the ,french ,tragedy         
endeavours in the details of execution  
to rise by earnestness1 dignity1 and    
pathos1 as high as possible above       
,comedy1 in its general structure and   
composition1 it still bears1 in my      
opinion1 but too close an affinity to   
it4 ,in many ,french tragedies ,i find  
indeed a ,unity for the ,understanding1 
but the ,feeling is left unsatisfied4   
,out of a complication of painful and   
violent situations we do1 it is true1   
arrive at last1 happily or unhappily1 at
 a state of repose2 but in the          
represented course of affairs there is  
no secret and mysterious revelation of a
 higher order of things2 there is no    
allusion to any consolatory thoughts of 
heaven1 whether in the dignity of human 
nature successfully maintained in its   
conflicts with fate1 or in the guidance 

of an over- ruling providence4 ,to such 
a tranquillizing feeling the so-called  
poetical justice is partly unnecessary1 
and partly also1 so very questionably   
and obliquely is it usually             
administered1 very insufficient4 ,but   
even poetical justice 7which ,i cannot  
help considering as a made-up example of
 a doctrine false in itself1 and one1   
moreover1 which by no means tends to the
 excitation of truly moral feelings7 has
 not unfrequently been altogether       
neglected by the ,french tragedians4    
,the use of intrigue is certainly well  
calculated to effect the all-desired    
short duration of an important action4  
,for the intriguer is ever expeditious1 
and loses no time in attaining to his   
object4 ,but the mighty course of human 
destinies proceeds1 like the change of  
seasons1 with measured pace3 great      
designs ripen slowly2 stealthily and    
hesitatingly the dark suggestions of    
deadly malice quit the abysses of the   
mind for the light of day2 and1 as      

,horace1 with equal truth and beauty    
observes1 the flying criminal is only   
limpingly followed by penal retribution4
 ,footnote3   ,rar antecedentem         
scelestum   ,deseruit pede paena        
claudo4--,,trans4 ,let only the attempt 
be made1 for instance1 to bring within  
the narrow frame of the ,unity of ,time 
,shakspeare's gigantic picture of       
,macbeth's murder of ,duncan1 his       
tyrannical usurpation and final fall2   
let as many as may be of the events     
which the great dramatist successively  
exhibits before us in such dread array  
be placed anterior to the opening of the
 piece1 and made the subject of an after
 recital1 and it will be seen how       
thereby the story loses all its sublime 
significance4 ,this drama does1 it is   
true1 embrace a considerable period of  
time3 but does its rapid progress leave 
us leisure to calculate this8 ,we see1  
as it were1 the ,fates weaving their    
dark web on the whistling loom of time2 
and we are drawn irresistibly on by the 

storm and whirlwind of events1 which    
hurries on the hero to the first        
atrocious deed1 and from it to          
innumerable crimes to secure its fruits 
with fluctuating fortunes and perils1 to
 his final fall on the field of battle4 
,such a tragic exhibition resembles a   
comet's course1 which1 hardly visible at
 first1 and revealing itself only to the
 astronomic eye1 appears at a nebulous  
distance in the heavens1 but soon soars 
with unheard-of and accelerating        
rapidity towards the central point of   
our system1 scattering dismay among the 
nations of the earth1 till1 in a moment1
 when least expected1 with its          
portentous tail it overspreads the half 
of the firmament with resplendent flame4
  ,for the sake of the prescribed ,unity
 of ,time the ,french poets must fain   
renounce all those artistic effects     
which proceed from the gradually        
accelerated growth of any object in the 
mind1 or in the external world1 through 
the march of time1 while of all that in 

a drama is calculated to fascinate the  
eye they were through their wretched    
arrangement of stage- scenery deprived  
in a great measure by the ,unity of     
,place4 ,accidental circumstances might 
in truth enforce a closer observance of 
this rule1 or even render it            
indispensable4 ,from a remark of        
,corneille's ,footnote3 ,in his ,premier
 ,discours sur la ,posie ,dramatique he 
says3 ,une chanson a quelquefois bonne  
grce2 et dans les pices de machines cet 
ornement est redevenu ncessaire pour    
remplir les oreilles du spectateur1     
pendant que les machines descendent4 we 
are led to conjecture that stage-       
machinery in ,france was in his time    
extremely clumsy and imperfect4 ,it was 
moreover the general custom for a number
 of distinguished spectators to have    
seats on both sides of the stage itself1
 which hardly left a breadth of ten     
paces for the free movements of the     
actors4 ,regnard1 in ,le ,distrait1     
gives us an amusing description of the  

noise and disorder these fashionable    
petit-matres in his day kept up in this 
privileged place1 how chattering and    
laughing behind the backs of the actors 
they disturbed the spectators1 and drew 
away attention from the play to         
themselves as the prominent objects of  
the stage4 ,this evil practice continued
 even down to ,voltaire's time1 who has 
the merit of having by his zealous      
opposition to it obtained at last its   
complete abolition1 on the appearance of
 his ,semiramis4 ,how could they have   
ventured to make a change of scene in   
presence of such an unpoetical chorus as
 this1 totally unconnected with the     
piece1 and yet thrust into the very     
middle of the representation8 ,in the   
,cid1 the scene of the action manifestly
 changes several times in the course of 
the same act1 and yet in the            
representation the material scene was   
never changed4 ,in the ,english and     
,spanish plays of the same date the case
 was generally the same2 certain signs1 

however1 were agreed on which served to 
denote the change of place1 and the     
docile imagination of the spectators    
followed the poet whithersoever he      
chose4 ,but in ,france1 the young men of
 quality who sat on the stage lay in    
wait to discover something to laugh at2 
and as all theatrical effect requires a 
certain distance1 and when viewed too   
closely appears ludicrous1 all attempt  
at it was1 in such a state of things1   
necessarily abandoned1 and the poet     
confined himself principally to the     
dialogue between a few characters1 the  
stage being subjected to all the        
formalities of an antechamber4  ,and in 
truth1 for the most part1 the scene did 
actually represent an antechamber1 or at
 least a hall in the interior of a      
palace4 ,as the action of the ,greek    
tragedies is always carried on in open  
places surrounded by the abode or       
symbols of majesty1 so the ,french poets
 have modified their mythological       
materials1 from a consideration of the  

scene1 to the manners of modern courts4 
,in a princely palace no strong emotion1
 no breach of social etiquette is       
allowable2 and as in a tragedy affairs  
cannot always proceed with pure         
courtesy1 every bolder deed1 therefore1 
every act of violence1 every thing      
startling and calculated strongly to    
impress the senses1 as transacted behind
 the scenes1 and related merely by      
confidants or other messengers4 ,and yet
 as ,horace1 centuries ago remarked1    
whatever is communicated to the ear     
excites the mind far more feebly than   
what is exhibited to the trusty eye1 and
 the spectator informs himself of4 ,what
 he recommends to be withdrawn from     
observation is only the incredible and  
the revoltingly cruel4 ,the dramatic    
effect of the visible may1 it is true1  
be liable to great abuse2 and it is     
possible for a theatre to degenerate    
into a noisy arena of mere bodily       
events1 to which words and gestures may 
be but superfluous appendages4 ,but     

surely the opposite extreme of allowing 
to the eye no conviction of its own1 and
 always referring to something absent1  
is deserving of equal reprobation4 ,in  
many ,french tragedies the spectator    
might well entertain a feeling that     
great actions were actually taking      
place1 but that he had chosen a bad     
place to be witness of them4 ,it is     
certain that the obvious impression of a
 drama is greatly impaired when the     
effects1 which the spectators behold1   
proceed from invisible and distant      
causes4 ,the converse procedure of this 
is preferable1--to exhibit the cause    
itself1 and to allow the effect to be   
simply recounted4 ,voltaire was aware of
 the injury which theatrical effect     
sustained from the established practice 
of the tragic stage in ,france2 he      
frequently insisted on the necessity of 
richer scenical decorations2 and he     
himself in his pieces1 and others after 
his example1 have ventured to represent 
many things to the eye1 which before    

would have been considered as           
unsuitable1 not to say1 ridiculous4 ,but
 notwithstanding this attempt1 and the  
still earlier one of ,racine in his     
,athalie1 the eye is now more out of    
favour than ever with the fashionable   
critics4 ,wherever any thing is allowed 
to be seen1 or an action is performed   
bodily before them1 they scent a        
melodrama2 and the idea that ,tragedy1  
if its purity1 or rather its bald       
insipidity1 was not watchfully guarded1 
would be gradually amalgamated with this
 species of play1 7of which a word      
hereafter17 haunts them as a horrible   
phantom4  ,voltaire himself has indulged
 in various infractions of the ,unity of
 ,time2 nevertheless he has not dared   
directly to attack the rule itself as   
unessential4 ,he did but wish to see a  
greater latitude given to its           
interpretation4 ,it would1 he thought1  
be sufficient if the action took place  
within the circuit of a palace or even  
of a town1 though in a different part of

 them4 ,in order however1 to avoid a    
change of scene1 he would have it so    
contrived as at once to comprise the    
several localities4 ,here he betrays    
very confused ideas1 both of            
architecture and perspective4 ,he refers
 to ,palladio's theatre at ,vicenza1    
which he could hardly have ever seen3   
for his account of this theatre1 which1 
as we have already observed1 is itself a
 misconception of the structure of the  
ancient stage1 appears to be altogether 
founded on descriptions which clearly he
 did not understand4 ,in the ,semiramis1
 the play in which he first attempted to
 carry into practice his principles on  
this subject1 he has fallen into a      
singular error4 ,instead of allowing the
 persons to proceed to various places1  
he has actually brought the places to   
the persons4 ,the scene in the third act
 is a cabinet2 this cabinet1 to use     
,voltaire's own words1 gives way        
7without--let it be remembered--the     
queen leaving it71 to a grand saloon    

magnificently furnished4 ,the ,mausoleum
 of ,ninus too1 which stood at first in 
an open place before the palace1 and    
opposite to the temple of the ,magi1 has
 also found means to steal to the side  
of the throne in the centre of this     
hall4 ,after yielding his spirit to the 
light of day1 to the terror of many     
beholders1 and again receiving it back1 
it repairs in the following act to its  
old place1 where it probably had left   
its obelisks behind4 ,in the fifth act  
we see that the tomb is extremely       
spacious1 and provided with             
subterraneous passages4 ,what a noise   
would the ,french critics make were a   
foreigner to commit such ridiculous     
blunders4 ,in ,brutus we have another   
example of this running about of the    
scene with the persons4 ,before the     
opening of the first act we have a long 
and particular description of the scenic
 arrangement3 the ,senate is assembled  
between the ,capitoline temple and the  
house of the ,consuls1 in the open air4 

,afterwards1 on the rising of the       
assembly1 ,arons and ,albin alone remain
 behind1 and of them it is now said3 qui
 sont supposs tre entrs de la salle     
d'audience dans un autre appartement de 
la maison de ,brutus4 ,what is the      
poet's meaning here8 ,is the scene      
changed without being empty1 or does he 
trust so far to the imagination of his  
spectators1 as to require them against  
the evidence of their senses1 to take   
for a chamber a scene which is          
ornamented in quite a different style8  
,and how does that which in the first   
description is a public place become    
afterwards a hall of audience8 ,in this 
scenic arrangement there must be either 
legerdemain or a bad memory4  ,with     
respect to the ,unity of ,place1 we may 
in general observe that it is often very
 unsatisfactorily observed1 even in     
comedy1 by the ,french poets1 as well as
 by all who follow the same system of   
rules4 ,the scene is not1 it is true1   
changed1 but things which do not usually

 happen in the same place are made to   
follow each other4 ,what can be more    
improbable than that people should      
confide their secrets to one another in 
a place where they know their enemies   
are close at hand8 or that plots against
 a sovereign should be hatched in his   
own antechamber8 ,great importance is   
attached to the principle that the stage
 should never in the course of an act   
remain empty4 ,this is called binding   
the scenes4 ,but frequently the rule is 
observed in appearance only1 since the  
personages of the preceding scene go out
 at one door the very moment that those 
of the next enter at another4 ,moreover1
 they must not make their entrance or   
exit without a motive distinctly        
announced3 to ensure this particular    
pains are taken2 the confidants are     
despatched on missions1 and equals also 
are expressly1 and sometimes not even   
courteously1 told to go out of the way4 
,with all these endeavours1 the         
determinations of the places where      

things take place are often so vague and
 contradictory1 that in many pieces1 as 
a ,german writer ,footnote3 ,joh4 ,elias
 ,schlegel1 in his ,gedanken zur        
,aufnahme des ,dnischen ,theatres4 has  
well said1 we ought to insert under the 
list of the dramatis personae--,the     
scene is on the theatre4  ,these        
inconveniences arise almost inevitably  
from an anxious observance of the ,greek
 rules1 under a total change of         
circumstances4 ,to avoid the pretended  
improbability which would lie in        
springing from one time and one place to
 another1 they have often involved      
themselves in real and grave            
improbabilities4 ,a thousand times have 
we reason to repeat the observation of  
the ,academy1 in their criticism on the 
,cid1 respecting the crowding together  
so many events in the period of         
twenty-four hours3 ,from the fear of    
sinning against the rules of art1 the   
poet has rather chosen to sin against   
the rules of nature4 ,but this imaginary

 contradiction between art and nature   
could only be suggested by a low and    
narrow range of artistic ideas4  ,i come
 now to a more important point1 namely1 
to the handling of the subject-matter   
unsuitably to its nature and quality4   
,the ,greek tragedians1 with a few      
exceptions1 selected their subjects from
 the national mythology4 ,the ,french   
tragedians borrow theirs sometimes from 
the ancient mythology1 but much more    
frequently from the history of almost   
every age and nation1 and their mode of 
treating mythological and historical    
subjects respectively1 is but too often 
not properly mythological1 and not      
properly historical4 ,i will explain    
myself more distinctly4 ,the poet who   
selects an ancient mythological fable1  
that is1 a fable connected by hallowing 
tradition with the religious belief of  
the ,greeks1 should transport both      
himself and his spectators into the     
spirit of antiquity2 he should keep ever
 before our minds the simple manners of 

the heroic ages1 with which alone such  
violent passions and actions are        
consistent and credible2 his personages 
should preserve that near resemblance to
 the gods which1 from their descent1 and
 the frequency of their immediate       
intercourse with them1 the ancients     
believed them to possess2 the marvellous
 in the ,greek religion should not be   
purposely avoided or understated1 but   
the imagination of the spectators should
 be required to surrender itself fully  
to the belief of it4 ,instead of this1  
however1 the ,french poets have given to
 their mythological heroes and heroines 
the refinement of the fashionable world1
 and the court manners of the present   
day2 they have1 because those heroes    
were princes 7shepherds of the people1  
,homer calls them71 accounted for their 
situations and views by the motives of a
 calculating policy1 and violated1 in   
every point1 not merely archaeological  
costume1 but all the costume of         
character4 ,in ,phaedra1 this princess  

is1 upon the supposed death of ,theseus1
 to be declared regent during the       
minority of her son4 ,how was this      
compatible with the relations of the    
,grecian women of that day8 ,it brings  
us down to the times of a ,cleopatra4   
,hermione remains alone1 without the    
protection of a brother or a father1 at 
the court of ,pyrrhus1 nay1 even in his 
palace1 and yet she is not married to   
him4 ,with the ancients1 and not merely 
in the ,homeric age1 marriage consisted 
simply in the bride being received into 
the bridegroom's house4 ,but whatever   
justification of ,hermione's situation  
may be found in the practice of         
,european courts1 it is not the less    
repugnant to female dignity1 and the    
more indecorous1 as ,hermione is in love
 with the unwilling ,pyrrhus1 and uses  
every influence to incline him to       
marriage4 ,what would the ,greeks have  
thought of this bold and indecent       
courtship8 ,no doubt it would appear    
equally offensive to a ,french audience1

 if ,andromache were exhibited to them  
in the situation in which she appears in
 ,euripides1 where1 as a captive1 her   
person is enjoyed by the conqueror of   
her country4 ,but when the ways of      
thinking of two nations are so totally  
different1 why should there be so       
painful an effort to polish a subject   
founded on the manners of the one1 with 
the manners of the other8 ,what is      
allowed to remain after this polishing  
process will always exhibit a striking  
incongruity with that which is new-     
modelled1 and to change the whole is    
either impossible1 or in nowise         
preferable to a new invention4 ,the     
,grecian tragedians certainly allowed   
themselves a great latitude in changing 
the circumstances of their myths1 but   
the alterations were always consistent  
with the general and prevalent notions  
of the heroic age4 ,on the other hand1  
they always left the characters as they 
received them from tradition and an     
earlier fiction1 by means of which the  

cunning of ,ulysses1 the wisdom of      
,nestor1 and the wrath of ,achilles1 had
 almost become proverbial4 ,horace      
particularly insists on the rule4 ,but  
how unlike is the ,achilles of ,racine's
 ,iphigenia to the ,achilles of ,homer6 
,the gallantry ascribed to him is not   
merely a sin against ,homer1 but it     
renders the whole story improbable4 ,are
 human sacrifices conceivable among a   
people whose chiefs and heroes are so   
susceptible of the tenderest emotions8  
,in vain recourse is had to the powerful
 influences of religion3 history teaches
 that a cruel religion invariably       
becomes milder with the softening       
manners of a people4  ,in these new     
exhibitions of ancient fables1 the      
marvellous has been studiously rejected 
as alien to our belief4 ,but when we are
 once brought from a world in which it  
was a part of the very order of things1 
into a world entirely prosaical and     
historically settled1 then whatever     
marvel the poet may exhibit must1 from  

the insulated state in which it stands1 
appear only so much the more incredible4
 ,in ,homer1 and in the ,greek          
tragedians1 everything takes place in   
the presence of the gods1 and when they 
become visible1 or manifest themselves  
in some wonderful operation1 we are in  
no degree astonished4 ,on the other     
hand1 all the labour and art of the     
modern poets1 all the eloquence of their
 narratives1 cannot reconcile our minds 
to these exhibitions4 ,examples are     
superfluous1 the thing is so universally
 known4 ,yet ,i cannot help cursorily   
remarking how singularly ,racine1       
cautious as he generally is1 has on an  
occasion of this kind involved himself  
in an inconsistency4 ,respecting the    
origin of the fable of ,theseus         
descending into the world below to carry
 off ,proserpine for his friend         
,pirithus1 he adopts the historical     
explanation of ,plutarch1 that he was   
the prisoner of a ,thracian king1 whose 
wife he endeavoured to carry off for his

 friend4 ,on this he grounds the report 
of the death of ,theseus1 which1 at the 
opening of the play1 was current4 ,and  
yet he allows ,phaedra ,footnote3   ,je 
l'aime1 non point tel que l'ont vu les  
enfers1   ,volage adorateur de mille    
objets divers1   ,qui va du dieu des    
morts dshonorer la couche4 to mention   
the fabulous tradition as an earlier    
achievement of the hero4 ,how many women
 then did ,theseus wish to carry off for
 ,pirithus8 ,pradon manages this much   
better3 when ,theseus is asked by a     
confidant if he really had been in the  
world below1 he answers1 how could any  
sensible man possibly believe so silly a
 tale6 he merely availed himself of the 
credulity of the people1 and gave out   
this report from political motives4  ,so
 much with respect to the manner of     
handling mythological materials4 ,with  
respect to the historical1 in the first 
place1 the same objection applies1      
namely1 that the ,french manners of the 
day are substituted to those which      

properly belong to the several persons1 
and that the characters do not          
sufficiently bear the colour of their   
age and nation4 ,but to this we must add
 another detrimental circumstance4 ,a   
mythological subject is in its nature   
poetical1 and ever ready to take a new  
poetical shape4 ,in the ,french         
,tragedy1 as in the ,greek1 an equable  
and pervading dignity is required1 and  
the ,french language is even much more  
fastidious in this respect1 as very many
 things cannot be at all mentioned in   
,french poetry4 ,but in history we are  
on a prosaic domain1 and the truth of   
the picture requires conditions1        
circumstances1 and features1 which      
cannot be given without a greater or    
less descent from the elevation of the  
tragical cothurnus2 such as has been    
made without hesitation by ,shakspeare1 
the most perfect of historical          
dramatists4 ,the ,french tragedians1    
however1 could not bring their minds to 
submit to this1 and hence their works   

are frequently deficient in those       
circumstances which give life and truth 
to a picture2 and when an obstinate     
prosaical circumstance must after all be
 mentioned1 they avail themselves of    
laboured and artificial circumlocutions4
  ,respecting the tragic dignity of     
historical subjects1 peculiar principles
 have prevailed4 ,corneille was in the  
best way of the world when he brought   
his ,cid on the stage1 a story of the   
middle ages1 which belonged to a kindred
 people1 characterized by chivalrous    
love and honour1 and in which the       
principal characters are not even of    
princely rank4 ,had this example been   
followed1 a number of prejudices        
respecting the tragic ,ceremonial would 
have disappeared of themselves2 ,tragedy
 from its greater verisimilitude1 and   
being most readily intelligible1 and    
deriving its motives from still current 
modes of thinking and acting1 would have
 come more home to the heart3 the very  
nature of the subjects would alone have 

turned them from the stiff observation  
of the rules of the ancients1 which they
 did not understand1 as indeed          
,corneille never deviated so far from   
these rules as1 in the train1 no doubt1 
of his ,spanish model1 he does in this  
very piece2 in one word1 the ,french    
,tragedy would have become national and 
truly romantic4 ,but ,i know not what   
malignant star was in the ascendant3    
notwithstanding the extraordinary       
success of his ,cid1 ,corneille did not 
go one step further1 and the attempt    
which he made found no imitators4 ,in   
the time of ,louis ,,xiv4 it was        
considered as a matter established      
beyond dispute1 that the ,french1 nay   
generally the modern ,european history  
was not adapted for the purposes of     
tragedy4 ,they had recourse therefore to
 the ancient universal history3 besides 
the ,romans and ,grecians1 they         
frequently hunted about among the       
,assyrians1 ,babylonians1 ,persians1 and
 ,egyptians1 for events which1 however  

obscure they might often be1 they could 
dress out for the tragic stage4 ,racine1
 according to his own confession1 made a
 hazardous attempt with the ,turks2 it  
was successful1 and since that time the 
necessary tragical dignity has been     
allowed to this barbarous people1 among 
whom the customs and habits of the      
rudest despotism and the most abject    
slavery are often united in the same    
person1 and nothing is known of love1   
but the most luxurious sensuality2      
while1 on the other hand1 it has been   
refused to the ,europeans1              
notwithstanding that their religion1    
their sense of honour1 and their respect
 for the female sex1 plead so powerfully
 in their behalf4 ,but it was merely    
modern1 and more particularly ,french   
names that1 as untragical and           
unpoetical1 could not1 for a moment1 be 
tolerated2 for the heroes of antiquity  
are with them ,frenchmen in everything  
but the name2 and antiquity was merely a
 thin veil beneath which the modern     

,french character might be distinctly   
recognized4 ,racine's ,alexander is     
certainly not the ,alexander of history2
 but if under this name we imagine to   
ourselves the great ,cond1 the whole    
will appear tolerably natural4 ,and who 
does not suppose that ,louis ,,xiv4 and 
the ,duchess de la ,vallire are         
represented under the names ,titus and  
,berenice8 ,the poet has himself        
flatteringly alluded to his sovereign4  
,voltaire's expression is somewhat      
strong1 when he says that in reading the
 tragedies which succeeded those of     
,racine we might fancy ourselves        
perusing the romances of ,mademoiselle  
,scuderi1 which paint citizens of ,paris
 under the names of heroes of antiquity4
 ,he alluded herein more particularly to
 ,crebillon4 ,corneille and ,racine1    
however1 deeply tainted as they were    
with the way of thinking of their own   
nation1 were still at times penetrated  
with the spirit of true objective       
exhibition4 ,corneille gives us a       

masterly picture of the ,spaniards in   
the ,cid2 and this is conceivable       
enough1 for he drew his materials from  
the fountain-head4 ,with the exception  
of the original sin of gallantry1 he    
succeeded also pretty well with the     
,romans3 of one part of their character1
 at least1 he had a tolerable           
conception1 their predominating         
patriotism1 and unbending pride of      
liberty1 and the magnanimity of their   
political sentiments4 ,all this1 it is  
true1 is nearly the same as we find it  
in ,lucan1 varnished over with a certain
 inflation and self-conscious pomp4 ,the
 simple republican austerity1 and their 
religious submissiveness1 was beyond his
 reach4 ,racine has admirably painted   
the corruptions of the ,romans of the   
,empire1 and the first timid outbreaks  
of ,nero's tyranny4 ,it is true1 as he  
himself gratefully acknowledges1 he had 
in this ,tacitus for a predecessor1 but 
still it is a great merit so ably to    
translate history into poetry4 ,he had  

also a just perception of the general   
spirit of ,hebrew history2 here he was  
guided by religious reverence1 which1 in
 greater or less degree1 the poet ought 
always to bring with him to his subject4
 ,he was less successful with the       
,turks3 ,bajazet makes love quite in the
 style of an ,european2 the bloodthirsty
 policy of ,eastern despotism is well   
portrayed1 it is true1 in the ,vizier3  
but the whole resembles ,turkey upside  
down1 where the women1 instead of being 
slaves1 have contrived to get possession
 of the government1 which thereupon     
assumes so revolting an appearance as to
 incline us to believe the ,turks are1  
after all1 not much to blame in keeping 
their women under lock and key4 ,neither
 has ,voltaire1 in my opinion1 succeeded
 much better in his ,mahomet and ,zaire2
 throughout we miss the glowing         
colouring of ,oriental fancy4 ,voltaire 
has1 however1 this great merit1 that as 
he insisted on treating subjects with   
more historical truth1 he made it also  

the object of his own endeavours2 and   
farther1 that he again raised to the    
dignity of the tragical stage the       
chivalrous and ,christian characters of 
modern ,europe1 which since the time of 
the ,cid had been altogether excluded   
from it4 ,his ,lusignan and ,nerestan   
are among his most truthful1 affecting1 
and noble creations2 his ,tancred1      
although as a whole the invention is    
deficient in keeping1 will always1 like 
his namesake in ,tasso1 win every heart4
 ,alzire1 in a historical point of view1
 is highly eminent4 ,it is singular     
enough that ,voltaire1 in his restless  
search after tragic materials1 has      
actually travelled the whole world over2
 for as in ,alzire he exhibits the      
,american tribes of the other           
hemisphere1 in his ,dschingiskan he     
brings ,chinese on the stage1 from the  
farthest extremity of ours1 who1        
however1 from the faithful observation  
of their costume1 have almost the stamp 
of comic or grotesque figures4          

,unfortunately ,voltaire came too late  
with his projected reformation of the   
theatre3 much had been already ruined by
 the trammels within which ,french      
,tragedy had been so long confined2 and 
the prejudice which gave such           
disproportionate importance to the      
observance of external rules and        
proprieties was1 at it appears1         
established firmly and irrevocably4     
,next to the rules regarding the        
external mechanism1 which without       
examination they had adopted from the   
ancients1 the prevailing national ideas 
of social propriety were the principal  
hindrances which impeded the ,french    
poets in the exercise of their talents1 
and in many cases put it altogether out 
of their power to reach the highest     
tragical effect4 ,the problem which the 
dramatic poet has to solve is to combine
 poetic form with nature and truth1 and 
consequently nothing ought to be        
included in the former which is         
inadmissible by the latter4 ,french     

,tragedy1 from the time of ,richelieu1  
developed itself under the favour and   
protection of the court2 and even its   
scene had 7as already observed7 the     
appearance of an antechamber4 ,in such  
an atmosphere the spectators might      
impress the poet with the idea that     
courtesy is one of the original and     
essential ingredients of human nature4  
,but in ,tragedy men are either matched 
with men in fearful strife1 or set in   
close struggle with misfortune2 we can1 
therefore1 exact from them only an ideal
 dignity1 for from the nice observance  
of social punctilios they are absolved  
by their situation4 ,so long as they    
possess sufficient presence of mind not 
to violate them1 so long as they do not 
appear completely overpowered by their  
grief and mental agony1 the deepest     
emotion is not as yet reached4 ,the poet
 may indeed be allowed to take that care
 for his persons which ,caesar1 after   
his death-blow1 had for himself1 and    
make them fall with decorum4 ,he must   

not exhibit human nature in all its     
repulsive nakedness4 ,the most heart-   
rending and dreadful pictures must still
 be invested with beauty1 and endued    
with a dignity higher than the common   
reality4 ,this miracle is effected by   
poetry3 it has its indescribable sighs1 
its immediate accents of the deepest    
agony1 in which there still runs a      
something melodious4 ,it is only a      
certain full-dressed and formal beauty1 
which is incompatible with the greatest 
truth of expression4 ,and yet it is     
exactly this beauty that is demanded in 
the style of a ,french tragedy4 ,no     
doubt something too is to be ascribed to
 the quality of their language and      
versification4 ,the ,french language is 
wholly incapable of many bold flights1  
it has little poetical freedom1 and it  
carries into poetry all the grammatical 
stiffness of prose4 ,this their poets   
have often acknowledged and lamented4   
,besides1 the ,alexandrine with its     
couplets1 with its hemistichs of equal  

length1 is a very symmetrical and       
monotonous species of verse1 and far    
better adapted for the expression of    
antithetical maxims1 than for the       
musical delineation of passion with its 
unequal1 abrupt1 and erratic course of  
thoughts4 ,but the main cause lies in a 
national feature1 in the social         
endeavour never to forget themselves in 
presence of others1 and always to       
exhibit themselves to the greatest      
possible advantage4 ,it has been often  
remarked1 that in ,french ,tragedy the  
poet is always too easily seen through  
the discourses of the different         
personages1 that he communicates to them
 his awn presence of mind1 his cool     
reflections on their situation1 and his 
desire to shine on all occasions4 ,when 
most of their tragical speeches are     
closely examined1 they are seldom found 
to be such as the persons speaking or   
acting by themselves without restraint  
would deliver2 something or other is    
generally discovered in them which      

betrays a reference to the spectator    
more or less perceptible4 ,before1      
however1 our compassion can be          
powerfully excited1 we must be familiar 
with the persons2 but how is this       
possible if we are always to see them   
under the yoke of their designs and     
endeavours1 or1 what is worse1 of an    
unnatural and assumed grandeur of       
character8 ,we must overhear them in    
their unguarded moments1 when they      
imagine themselves alone1 and throw     
aside all care and reserve4  ,eloquence 
may and ought to have a place in        
,tragedy1 but in so far as it is in some
 measure artificial in its method and   
preparation1 it can only be in character
 when the speaker is sufficiently master
 of himself2 for1 for overpowering      
passion1 an unconscious and involuntary 
eloquence is alone suitable4 ,the truly 
inspired orator forgets himself in the  
subject of his eloquence4 ,we call it   
rhetoric when he thinks less of his     
subject than of himself1 and of the art 

in which he flatters himself he has     
obtained a mastery4 ,rhetoric1 and      
rhetoric in a court dress1 prevails but 
too much in many ,french tragedies1     
especially in those of ,corneille1      
instead of the suggestions of a noble1  
but simple and artless nature2 ,racine  
and ,voltaire1 however1 have come much  
nearer to the true conception of a mind 
carried away by its sufferings4         
,whenever the tragic hero is able to    
express his pain in antitheses and      
ingenious allusions1 we may safely      
reserve our pity4 ,this sort of         
conventional dignity is1 as it were1 a  
coat of mail1 which prevents the pain   
from reaching the inmost heart4 ,on     
account of their retaining this festal  
pomp in situations where the most       
complete self-forgetfulness would be    
natural1 ,schiller has wittily enough   
compared the heroes in ,french ,tragedy 
to the kings in old engravings who lie  
in bed1 crown1 sceptre1 robes and all4  
,this social refinement prevails through

 the whole of ,french literature and    
art4 ,social refinement sharpens1 no    
doubt1 the sense for the ludicrous1 and 
even on that account1 when it is carried
 to a fastidious excess1 it is the death
 of every thing like enthusiasm4 ,for   
all enthusiasm1 all poetry1 has a       
ludicrous aspect for the unfeeling4     
,when1 therefore1 such a way of thinking
 has once become universal in a nation1 
a certain negative criticism will be    
associated with it4 ,a thousand         
different things must be avoided1 and in
 attending to these1 the highest object 
of all1 that which ought properly to be 
accomplished1 is lost sight of4 ,the    
fear of ridicule is the conscience of   
,french poets2 it has clipt their wings1
 and impaired their flight4 ,for it is  
exactly in the most serious kind of     
poetry that this fear must torment them 
the most2 for extremes run into one     
another1 and whenever pathos fails it   
gives rise to laughter and parody4 ,it  
is amusing to witness ,voltaire's       

extreme agony when he was threatened    
with a parody of his ,semiramis on the  
,italian theatre4 ,in a petition to the 
queen1 this man1 whose whole life had   
been passed in turning every thing great
 and venerable into ridicule1 urges his 
situation as one of the servants of the 
king's household1 as a ground for       
obtaining from high authority the       
prohibition of a very innocent and      
allowable amusement4 ,as ,french wits   
have indulged themselves in turning     
every thing in the world into ridicule1 
and more especially the mental          
productions of other nations1 they will 
also allow us on our part to divert     
ourselves at the expense of their tragic
 writers1 if with all their care they   
have now and then split upon the rock of
 which they were most in dread4 ,lessing
 has1 with the most irresistible and    
victorious wit1 pointed out the         
ludicrous nature of the very plans of   
,rodogune1 ,semiramis1 ,merope1 and     
,zaire4 ,but both in this respect and   

with regard to single laughable turns1 a
 rich harvest might yet be gathered4    
,footnote3 ,a few examples of the latter
 will be sufficient4 ,the lines with    
which ,theseus in the ,oedipus of       
,corneille opens his part1 are deserving
 of one of the first places3   ,quelque 
ravage affreux qu'tale ici la peste     
,l'absence aux vrais amans est encore   
plus funeste4 ,the following from his   
,otho are equally well known3   ,dis moi
 donc1 lorsqu' ,othon s'est offert      
,camille1   ,a-t-il paru contraint8     
a-t-elle t facile8   ,son hommage auprs 
d'elle a-t-il eu plein effet8   ,comment
 l'a-t-elle pris1 et comment l'a-t-il   
fait8 ,where it is almost inconceivable1
 that the poet could have failed to see 
the application which might be made of  
the passage1 especially as he allows the
 confidant to answer1 ,j'ai tout vu4    
,that ,attila should treat the kings who
 are dependent on him like              
good-for-nothing fellows3   ,ils ne sont
 pas venus1 nos deux rois2 qu'on leur   

die   ,qu'ils se font trop attendre1 et 
qu' ,attila s'ennuie   ,qu'alors que je 
les mande ils doivent se hter3 may in   
one view appear very serious and true2  
but nevertheless it appears exceedingly 
droll to us from the turn of expression1
 and especially from its being the      
opening of the piece4 ,generally        
speaking1 with respect to the ludicrous1
 ,corneille lived in a state of great   
innocence2 since his time the world has 
become a great deal more witty4 ,hence1 
after making all allowances for what he 
cannot justly be blamed for1 what1      
namely1 arises merely from his language 
having become obsolete1 we shall still  
find an ample field remaining for our   
ridicule4 ,among the numerous plays     
which are not reckoned among his        
master-pieces1 we have only to turn up  
any one at random to light upon numerous
 passages susceptible of a ludicrous    
application4 ,racine1 from the          
refinement and moderation which were    
natural to him1 was much better guarded 

against this danger2 but yet1 here and  
there1 expressions of the same kind     
escape from him4 ,among these we may    
include the whole of the speech in which
 ,theramenes exhorts his pupil          
,hippolytus to yield himself up to love4
 ,the ludicrous can hardly be carried   
farther than it is in these lines3      
,craint-on de s'garer sur les traces    
d',hercule8   ,quels courages ,venus    
n'a-t-elle pas domts8   ,vous mme1 o    
seriez vous1 vous qui la combattez1     
,si toujours ,antiope1  ses loix oppose1
   ,d'une pudique ardeur n'eut brl pour 
,thse8 ,in ,berenice1 ,antiochus        
receives his confidant1 whom he had sent
 to announce his visit to the ,queen1   
with the words3 ,arsace1 entrerons-     
nous8 ,this humble patience in an       
antechamber would appear even           
undignified in ,comedy1 but it appears  
too pitiful even for a second-rate      
tragical hero4 ,antiochus says          
afterwards to the queen3          ,je me
 suis t cinq ans   ,madame1 et vais     

encore me taire plus long-tems-- ,and to
 give an immediate proof of his         
intention by his conduct1 he repeats    
after this no less than fifty verses in 
a breath4  ,when ,orosman says to       
,zaire1 whom he pretends to love with   
,european tenderness1   ,je sais que    
notre loi1 favorable aux plaisirs       
,ouvre un champ sans limite  nos vastes 
dsirs3 his language is still more       
indecorous than laughable4 ,but the     
answer of ,zaire to her confidante1 who 
thereupon reminded her that she is a    
,christian1 is highly comic3   ,ah6 que 
dis-tu8 pourquoi rappeler mes ennuis8   
,upon the whole1 however1 ,voltaire is  
much more upon his guard against the    
ludicrous than his predecessors3 this   
was perfectly natural1 for in his time  
the rage of turning every thing into    
ridicule was most prevalent4 ,we may    
boldly affirm that in our days a single 
verse of the same kind as hundreds in   
,corneille would inevitably ruin any    
play4 ,but the war which ,lessing       

carried on against the ,french stage was
 much more merciless1 perhaps1 than we1 
in the present day1 should be justified 
in waging4 ,at the time when he         
published his ,dramaturgie1 we ,germans 
had scarcely any but ,french tragedies  
upon our stages1 and the extravagant    
predilection for them as classical      
models had not then been combated4 ,at  
present the national taste has declared 
itself so decidedly against them1 that  
we have nothing to fear of an illusion  
in that quarter4  ,it is farther said   
that the ,french dramatists have to do  
with a public not only extremely        
fastidious in its dislike of any low    
intermixture1 and highly susceptible of 
the ludicrous1 but also extremely       
impatient4 ,we will allow them the full 
enjoyment of this self-flattery3 for we 
have no doubt that their real meaning   
is1 that this impatience is a proof of  
quickness of apprehension and sharpness 
of wit4 ,it is susceptible1 however1 of 
another interpretation3 superficial     

knowledge1 and more especially intrinsic
 emptiness of mind1 invariably display  
themselves in fretful impatience4 ,but  
however this may be1 the disposition in 
question has had both a favourable and  
an unfavourable influence on the        
structure of their pieces4 ,favourable1 
in so far as it has compelled them to   
lop off every superfluity1 to go        
directly to the main business1 to be    
perspicuous1 to study compression1 to   
endeavour to turn every moment to the   
utmost advantage4 ,all these are good   
theatrical proprieties1 and have been   
the means of recommending the ,french   
tragedies as models of perfection to    
those who in the examination of works of
 art1 measure everything by the dry test
 of the understanding1 rather than      
listen to the voice of imagination and  
feeling4 ,it has been unfavourable1 in  
so far as even motion1 rapidity1 and a  
continued stretch of expectation1 become
 at length monotonous and wearisome4 ,it
 is like a music from which the piano   

should be altogether excluded1 and in   
which even the difference between forte 
and fortissimo should1 from the mistaken
 emulation of the performers1 be        
rendered indistinguishable4 ,i find too 
few resting-places in their tragedies   
similar to those in the ancient         
tragedies where the lyric parts come in4
 ,there are moments in human life which 
are dedicated by every religious mind to
 self-meditation1 and when1 with the    
view turned towards the past and the    
future1 it keeps as it were holiday4    
,this sacredness of the moment is not1  
,i think1 sufficiently reverenced3 the  
actors and spectators alike are         
incessantly hurried on to something that
 is to follow2 and we shall find very   
few scenes indeed1 where a mere state1  
independent of its causal connexion1 is 
represented developing itself4 ,the     
question with them is always what       
happens1 and only too seldom how happens
 it4 ,and yet this is the main point1 if
 an impression is to be made on the     

witnesses of human events4 ,hence every 
thing like silent effect is almost      
entirely excluded from their domain of  
dramatic art4 ,the only leisure which   
remains for the actor for his silent    
pantomime is during the delivery of the 
long discourses addressed to him1 when1 
however1 it more frequently serves to   
embarrass him than assists him in the   
development of his part4 ,they are      
satisfied if the web of the intrigue    
keeps uninterruptedly in advance of     
their own quickness of tact1 and if in  
the speeches and answers the shuttle    
flies diligently backwards and forwards 
to the end4  ,generally speaking1       
impatience is by no means a good        
disposition for the reception of the    
beautiful4 ,even dramatic poetry1 the   
most animated production of art1 has its
 contemplative side1 and where this is  
neglected1 the representation1 from its 
very rapidity and animation1 engenders  
only a deafening tumult in our mind1    
instead of that inward music which ought

 to accompany it4  ,the existence of    
many technical imperfections in their   
tragedy has been admitted even by       
,french critics themselves2 the         
confidants1 for instance4 ,every hero   
and heroine regularly drags some one    
along with them1 a gentleman in waiting 
or a court lady4 ,in not a few pieces1  
we may count three or four of these     
merely passive hearers1 who sometimes   
open their lips to tell something to    
their patron which he must have known   
better himself1 or who on occasion are  
dispatched hither and thither on        
messages4 ,the confidants in the ,greek 
tragedies1 either old guardian-slaves   
and nurses1 or servants1 have always    
peculiar characteristical destinations1 
and the ancient tragedians felt so      
little the want of communications       
between a hero and his confidant1 to    
make us acquainted with the hero's state
 of mind and views1 that they even      
introduce as a mute personage so        
important and proverbially famous a     

friend as a ,pylades4 ,but whatever     
ridicule was cast on the confidants1 and
 however great the reproach of being    
reduced to make use of them1 no attempt 
was ever made till the time of ,alfieri 
to get rid of them4  ,the expositions or
 statements of the preliminary situation
 of things are another nuisance4 ,they  
generally consist of choicely turned    
disclosures to the confidants1 delivered
 in a happy moment of leisure4 ,that    
very public whose impatience keeps the  
poets and players under such strict     
discipline1 has1 however1 patience      
enough to listen to the prolix unfolding
 of what ought to be sensibly developed 
before their eyes4 ,it is allowed that  
an exposition is seldom unexceptionable2
 that in their speeches the persons     
generally begin farther back than they  
naturally ought1 and that they tell one 
another what they must both have known  
before1 c4 ,if the affair is            
complicated1 these expositions are      
generally extremely tedious3 those of   

,heraclius and ,rodogune absolutely make
 the head giddy4 ,chaulieu says of      
,crebillon's ,rhadamiste1 ,the piece    
would be perfectly clear were it not for
 the exposition4 ,to me it seems that   
their whole system of expositions1 both 
in ,tragedy and in ,high ,comedy1 is    
exceedingly erroneous4 ,nothing can be  
more ill-judged than to begin at once to
 instruct us without any dramatic       
movement4 ,at the first drawing up of   
the curtain the spectator's attention is
 almost unavoidably distracted by       
external circumstances1 his interest has
 not yet been excited2 and this is      
precisely the time chosen by the poet to
 exact from him an earnest of undivided 
attention to a dry explanation1--a      
demand which he can hardly be supposed  
ready to meet4 ,it will perhaps be urged
 that the same thing was done by the    
,greek poets4 ,but with them the subject
 was for the most part extremely simple1
 and already known to the spectators2   
and their expositions1 with the         

exception of the unskilful prologues of 
,euripides1 have not the didactic       
particularising tone of the ,french1 but
 are full of life and motion4 ,how      
admirable again are the expositions of  
,shakspeare and ,calderon6 ,at the very 
outset they lay hold of the imagination2
 and when they have once gained the     
spectator's interest and sympathy they  
then bring forward the information      
necessary for the full understanding of 
the implied transactions4 ,this means   
is1 it is true1 denied to the ,french   
tragic poets1 who1 if at all1 are only  
very sparingly allowed the use of any   
thing calculated to make an impression  
on the senses1 any thing like corporeal 
action2 and who1 therefore1 for the sake
 of a gradual heightening of the        
impression are obliged to reserve to the
 last acts the little which is within   
their power4  ,to sum up all my previous
 observations in a few words3 the       
,french have endeavoured to form their  
tragedy according to a strict idea2 but 

instead of this they have set up merely 
an abstract notion4 ,they require       
tragical dignity and grandeur1 tragical 
situations1 passions1 and pathos1       
altogether simple and pure1 and without 
any foreign appendages4 ,stript thus of 
their proper investiture1 they lose much
 in truth1 profundity1 and character2   
and the whole composition is deprived of
 the living charm of variety1 of the    
magic of picturesque situations1 and of 
all those ravishing effects which a     
light but preparatory matter1 when left 
to itself1 often produces on the mind by
 its marvellous and spontaneous growth4 
,with respect to the theory of the      
tragic art1 they are yet at the very    
same point that they were in the art of 
gardening before the time of ,lenotre4  
,all merit consisted1 in their judgment1
 in extorting a triumph from nature by  
means of art4 ,they had no other idea of
 regularity than the measured symmetry  
of straight alleys1 clipped edges1 c4   
,vain would have been the attempt to    

make those who laid out such gardens to 
comprehend that there could be any plan1
 any hidden order1 in an ,english park1 
and demonstrate to them that a          
succession of landscapes1 which from    
their gradation1 their alternation1 and 
their opposition1 give effect to each   
other1 did all aim at exciting in us a  
certain mental impression4  ,the rooted 
and lasting prejudices of a whole nation
 are seldom accidental1 but are         
connected with some general want of     
intrinsic capacities1 from which even   
the eminent minds who read the rest are 
not exempted4 ,we are not1 therefore1 to
 consider such prejudices merely as     
causes2 we must also consider them at   
the same time as important effects4 ,we 
allow that the narrow system of rules1  
that a dissecting criticism of the      
understanding1 has shackled the efforts 
of the ,french tragedians2 still1       
however1 it remains doubtful whether of 
their own inclination they would ever   
have made choice of more comprehensive  

designs1 and1 if so1 in what way they   
would have filled them up4 ,the most    
distinguished among them have certainly 
not been deficient in means and talents4
 ,in a particular examination of their  
different productions we cannot show    
them any favour2 but1 on a general view1
 they are more deserving of pity than   
censure2 and when1 under such           
unfavourable circumstances1 they yet    
produce what is excellent1 they are     
doubly entitled to our admiration1      
although we can by no means admit the   
justice of the common-place observation1
 that the overcoming of difficulty is a 
source of pleasure1 nor find anything   
meritorious in a work of art merely     
because it is artificially composed4 ,as
 for the claim which the ,french advance
 to set themselves up1 in spite of all  
their one-sidedness and inadequacy of   
view1 as the lawgivers of taste1 it must
 be rejected with becoming indignation4 
,,lecture ,,xix4  ,use at first made of 
the ,spanish ,theatre by the            

,french--,general ,character of         
,corneille1 ,racine1 and                
,voltaire--,review of the principal     
,works of ,corneille and of             
,racine--,thomas ,corneille and         
,crebillon4   ,i have briefly noticed   
all that was necessary to mention of the
 antiquities of the ,french stage4 ,the 
duties of the poet were gradually more  
rigorously laid down1 under a belief in 
the authority of the ancients1 and the  
infallibility of ,aristotle4 ,by their  
own inclination1 however1 the poets were
 led to the ,spanish theatre1 as long as
 the ,dramatic ,art in ,france1 under a 
native education1 had not attained its  
full maturity4 ,they not only imitated  
the ,spaniards1 but1 from this mine of  
ingenious invention1 even borrowed      
largely and directly4 ,i do not merely  
allude to the earlier times under       
,richelieu2 this state of things        
continued through the whole of the first
 half of the age of ,louis ,,xiv42 and  
,racine is perhaps the oldest poet who  

seems to have been altogether           
unacquainted with the ,spaniards1 or at 
least who was in no manner influenced by
 them4 ,the comedies of ,corneille are  
nearly all taken from ,spanish pieces2  
and of his celebrated works1 the ,cid   
and ,don ,sancho of ,aragon are also    
,spanish4 ,the only piece of ,rotrou    
which still keeps its place on the      
theatre1 ,wenceslas1 is borrowed from   
,francisco de ,roxas3 ,molire's         
unfinished ,princess of ,etis is from   
,moreto1 his ,don ,garcia of ,navarre   
from an unknown author1 and the ,festin 
de ,pierre carries its origin in its    
front3 ,footnote3 ,and betrays at the   
same time ,molire's ignorance of        
,spanish4 ,for if he had possessed even 
a tolerable knowledge of it1 how could  
he have translated ,el ,convidado de    
,piedra 7the ,stone ,guest7 into the    
,stone ,feast1 which has no meaning     
here1 and could only be applicable to   
the ,feasts of ,midas8 we have only to  
look at the works of ,thomas ,corneille 

to be at once convinced that1 with the  
exception of a few1 they are all        
,spanish2 as also are the earlier       
labours of ,quinault1 namely1 his       
comedies and tragi-comedies4 ,the right 
of drawing without scruple from this    
source was so universal1 that the       
,french imitators1 when they borrowed   
without the least disguise1 did not even
 give themselves the trouble of naming  
the author of the original1 and         
assigning to the true owner a part of   
the applause which they might earn4 ,in 
the ,cid alone the text of the ,spanish 
poet is frequently cited1 and that only 
because ,corneille's claim to           
originality had been called in question4
  ,we should certainly derive much      
instruction from a discovery of the     
prototypes1 when they are not among the 
more celebrated1 or already known by    
their titles1 and thereupon instituting 
a comparison between them and their     
copies4 ,we must1 however1 go very      
differently to work from ,voltaire in   

,heraclius1 in which1 as ,garcia de la  
,huerta ,footnote3 ,in the introduction 
to his ,theatro ,hespaol4 has           
incontestably proved1 he displays both  
great ignorance and studied and         
disgusting perversions4 ,if the most of 
these imitations give little pleasure to
 ,france in the present day1 this       
decision is noways against the          
originals1 which must always have       
suffered considerably from the recast4  
,the national characters of the ,french 
and ,spanish are totally different2 and 
consequently also the spirit of their   
language and poetry4 ,the most temperate
 and restrained character belongs to the
 ,french2 the ,spaniard1 though in the  
remotest ,west1 displays1 what his      
history may easily account for1 an      
,oriental vein1 which luxuriates in a   
profusion of bold images and sallies of 
wit4 ,when we strip their dramas of     
these rich and splendid ornaments1 when1
 for the glowing colours of their       
romance and the musical variations of   

the rhymed strophes in which they are   
composed1 we compel them to assume the  
monotony of the ,alexandrine1 and submit
 to the fetters of external             
regularities1 while the character and   
situations are allowed to remain        
essentially the same1 there can no      
longer be any harmony between the       
subject and its mode of treatment1 and  
it loses that truth which it may still  
retain within the domain of fancy4  ,the
 charm of the ,spanish poetry consists1 
generally speaking1 in the union of a   
sublime and enthusiastic earnestness of 
feeling1 which peculiarly descends from 
the ,north1 with the lovely breath of   
the ,south1 and the dazzling pomp of the
 ,east4 ,corneille possessed an affinity
 to the ,spanish spirit but only in the 
first point2 he might be taken for a    
,spaniard educated in ,normandy4 ,it is 
much to be regretted that he had not1   
after the composition of the ,cid1      
employed himself without depending on   
foreign models1 upon subjects which     

would have allowed him to follow        
altogether his feeling for chivalrous   
honour and fidelity4 ,but on the other  
hand he took himself to the ,roman      
history2 and the severe patriotism of   
the older1 and the ambitious policy of  
the later ,romans1 supplied the place of
 chivalry1 and in some measure assumed  
its garb4 ,it was by no means so much   
his object to excite our terror and     
compassion as our admiration for the    
characters and astonishment at the      
situations of his heroes4 ,he hardly    
ever affects us2 and is seldom capable  
of agitating our minds4 ,and here ,i may
 indeed observe1 that such is his       
partiality for exciting our wonder and  
admiration1 that1 not contented with    
exacting it for the heroism of virtue1  
he claims it also for the heroism of    
vice1 by the boldness1 strength of soul1
 presence of mind1 and elevation above  
all human weakness1 with which he endows
 his criminals of both sexes4 ,nay1     
often his characters express themselves 

in the language of ostentatious pride1  
without our being well able to see what 
they have to be proud of3 they are      
merely proud of their pride4 ,we cannot 
often say that we take an interest in   
them3 they either appear1 from the great
 resources which they possess within    
themselves1 to stand in no need of our  
compassion1 or else they are undeserving
 of it4 ,he has delineated the conflict 
of passions and motives2 but for the    
most part not immediately as such1 but  
as already metamorphosed into a contest 
of principles4 ,it is in love that he   
has been found coldest2 and this was    
because he could not prevail on himself 
to paint it as an amiable weakness1     
although he everywhere introduced it1   
even where most unsuitable1 either out  
of a condescension to the taste of the  
age or a private inclination for        
chivalry1 where love always appears as  
the ornament of valour1 as the          
checquered favour waving at the lance1  
or the elegant ribbon-knot to the sword4

 ,seldom does he paint love as a power  
which imperceptibly steals upon us1 and 
gains at last an involuntary and        
irresistible dominion over us2 but as an
 homage freely chosen at first1 to the  
exclusion of duty1 but afterwards       
maintaining its place along with it4    
,this is the case at least in his better
 pieces2 for in his later works love is 
frequently compelled to give way to     
ambition2 and these two springs of      
action mutually weaken each other4 ,his 
females are generally not sufficiently  
feminine2 and the love which they       
inspire is with them not the last       
object1 but merely a means to something 
beyond4 ,they drive their lovers into   
great dangers1 and sometimes also to    
great crimes2 and the men too often     
appear to disadvantage1 while they allow
 themselves to become mere instruments  
in the hands of women1 or to be         
dispatched by them on heroic errands1 as
 it were1 for the sake of winning the   
prize of love held out to them4 ,such   

women as ,emilia in ,cinna and          
,rodogune1 must surely be unsusceptible 
of love4 ,but if in his principal       
characters1 ,corneille1 by exaggerating 
the energetic and underrating the       
passive part of our nature1 has departed
 from truth2 if his heroes display too  
much volition and too little feeling1 he
 is still much more unnatural in his    
situations4 ,he has1 in defiance of all 
probability1 pointed them in such a way 
that we might with great propriety give 
them the name of tragical antitheses1   
and it becomes almost natural if the    
personages express themselves in a      
series of epigrammatical maxims4 ,he is 
fond of exhibiting perfectly symmetrical
 oppositions4 ,his eloquence is often   
admirable from its strength and         
compression2 but it sometimes           
degenerates into bombast1 and exhausts  
itself in superfluous accumulations4    
,the later ,romans1 ,seneca the         
philosopher1 and ,lucan1 were considered
 by him too much in the light of models2

 and unfortunately he possessed also a  
vein of ,seneca the tragedian4 ,from    
this wearisome pomp of declamation1 a   
few simple words interspersed here and  
there1 have been often made the subject 
of extravagant praise4 ,footnote3 ,for  
instance1 the ,qu'il mourt of the old   
,horatius2 the ,soyons amis1 ,cinna3    
also the ,moi of ,medea1 which1 we may  
observe in passing1 is borrowed from    
,seneca4 ,if they stood alone they would
 certainly be entitled to praise2 but   
they are immediately followed by long   
harangues which destroy their effect4   
,when the ,spartan mother1 on delivering
 the shield to her son1 used the        
well-known words1 ,this1 or on this6 she
 certainly made no farther addition to  
them4 ,corneille was peculiarly well    
qualified to portray ambition and the   
lust of power1 a passion which stifles  
all other human feelings1 and never     
properly erects its throne till the mind
 has become a cold and dreary           
wilderness4 ,his youth was passed in the

 last civil wars1 and he still saw      
around him remains of the feudal        
independence4 ,i will not pretend to    
decide how much this may have influenced
 him1 but it is undeniable that the     
sense which he often showed of the great
 importance of political questions was  
altogether lost in the following age1   
and did not make its appearance again   
before ,voltaire4 ,however he1 like the 
rest of the poets of his time1 paid his 
tribute of flattery to ,louis the       
,fourteenth1 in verses which are now    
forgotten4  ,racine1 who for all but an 
entire century has been unhesitatingly  
proclaimed the favourite poet of the    
,french nation1 was by no means during  
his lifetime in so enviable a situation1
 and1 notwithstanding many an instance  
of brilliant success1 could not rest as 
yet in the pleasing and undisturbed     
possession of his fame4 ,his merit in   
giving the last polish to the ,french   
language1 his unrivalled excellence both
 of expression and versification1 were  

not then allowed2 on the stage he had   
rivals1 of whom some were undeservedly  
preferred before him4 ,on the one hand1 
the exclusive admirers of ,corneille1   
with ,madame ,sevign at their head1 made
 a formal party against him2 on the     
other hand1 ,pradon1 a younger candidate
 for the honours of the ,tragic ,muse1  
endeavoured to wrest the victory from   
him1 and actually succeeded1 not merely1
 it would appear1 in gaining over the   
crowd1 but the very court itself1       
notwithstanding the zeal with which he  
was opposed by ,boileau4 ,the chagrin to
 which this gave rise1 unfortunately    
interrupted his theatrical career at the
 very period when his mind had reached  
its full maturity3 a mistaken piety     
afterwards prevented him from resuming  
his theatrical occupations1 and it      
required all the influence of ,madame   
,maintenon to induce him to employ his  
talent upon religious subjects for a    
particular occasion4 ,it is probable    
that but for this interruption1 he would

 have carried his art still higher3 for 
in the works which we have of him1 we   
trace a gradually advancing improvement4
 ,he is a poet in every way worthy of   
our love3 he possessed a delicate       
susceptibility for all the tenderer     
emotions1 and great sweetness in        
expressing them4 ,his moderation1 which 
never allowed him to transgress the     
bounds of propriety1 must not be        
estimated too highly3 for he did not    
possess strength of character in any    
eminent degree1 nay1 there are even     
marks of weakness perceptible in him1   
which1 it is said1 he also exhibited in 
private life4 ,he has also paid his     
homage to the sugared gallantry of his  
age1 where it merely serves as a show of
 love to connect together the intrigue2 
but he has often also succeeded         
completely in the delineation of a more 
genuine love1 especially in his female  
characters2 and many of his love-scenes 
breathe a tender voluptuousness1 which1 
from the veil of reserve and modesty    

thrown over it1 steals only the more    
seductively into the soul4 ,the         
inconsistencies of unsuccessful passion1
 the wanderings of a mind diseased1 and 
a prey to irresistible desire1 he has   
portrayed more touchingly and truthfully
 than any ,french poet before him1 or   
even perhaps after him4 ,generally      
speaking1 he was more inclined to the   
elegiac and the idyllic1 than to the    
heroic4 ,i will not say that he would   
never have elevated himself to more     
serious and dignified conceptions than  
are to be found in his ,britannicus and 
,mithridate2 but here we must           
distinguish between that which his      
subject suggested1 and what he painted  
with a peculiar fondness1 and wherein he
 is not so much the dramatic artist as  
the spokesman of his own feelings4 ,at  
the same time1 it ought not to be       
forgotten that ,racine composed most of 
his pieces when very young1 and that    
this may possibly have influenced his   
choice4 ,he seldom disgusts us1 like    

,corneille and ,voltaire1 with the      
undisguised repulsiveness of unnecessary
 crimes2 he has1 however1 often veiled  
much that in reality is harsh1 base1 and
 mean1 beneath the forms of politeness  
and courtesy4 ,i cannot allow the plans 
of his pieces to be1 as the ,french     
critics insist1 unexceptionable2 those  
which he borrowed from ancient mythology
 are1 in my opinion1 the most liable to 
objection2 but still ,i believe1 that   
with the rules and observations which he
 took for his guide1 he could hardly in 
most cases have extricated himself from 
his difficulties more cautiously and    
with greater propriety than he has      
actually done4 ,whatever may be the     
defects of his productions separately   
considered1 when we compare him with    
others1 and view him in connexion with  
the ,french literature in general1 we   
can hardly bestow upon him too high a   
meed of praise4  ,a new aera of ,french 
,tragedy begins with ,voltaire1 whose   
first appearance1 in his early youth1 as

 a writer for the theatre1 followed     
close upon the age of ,louis the        
,fourteenth4 ,i have already1 in a      
general way1 alluded to the changes and 
enlargements which he projected1 and    
partly carried into execution4          
,corneille and ,racine led a true       
artist's life3 they were dramatic poets 
with their whole soul2 their desire1 as 
authors1 was confined to that object    
alone1 and all their studies were       
directed to the stage4 ,voltaire1 on the
 contrary1 wished to shine in every     
possible department2 a restless vanity  
permitted him not to be satisfied with  
the pursuit of perfection in any single 
walk of literature2 and from the variety
 of subjects on which his mind was      
employed1 it was impossible for him to  
avoid shallowness and immaturity of     
ideas4 ,to form a correct idea of his   
relation to his two predecessors in the 
tragic art1 we must institute a         
comparison between the characteristic   
features of the preceding classical age 

and of that in which he gave the tone4  
,in the time of ,louis the ,fourteenth1 
a certain traditionary code of opinions 
on all the most important concerns of   
humanity reigned in full force and      
unquestioned2 and even in poetry1 the   
object was not so much to enrich as to  
form the mind1 by a liberal and noble   
entertainment4 ,but now1 at length1 the 
want of original thinking began to be   
felt2 however1 it unfortunately         
happened1 that bold presumption hurried 
far in advance of profound inquiry1 and 
hence the spread of public immorality   
was quick followed by a dangerous       
scoffing scepticism1 which shook to the 
foundation every religious and moral    
conviction1 and the very principles of  
society itself4 ,voltaire was by turns  
philosopher1 rhetorician1 sophist1 and  
buffoon4 ,the want of singleness1 which 
more or less characterised all his      
views1 was irreconcileable with a       
complete freedom of prejudice even as an
 artist in his career4 ,as he saw the   

public longing for information1 which   
was rather tolerated by the favour of   
the great than authorised and formally  
approved of and dispensed by appropriate
 public institutions1 he did not fail to
 meet their want1 and to deliver1 in    
beautiful verses1 on the stage1 what no 
man durst yet preach from the pulpit or 
the professor's chair4 ,he made use of  
poetry as a means to accomplish ends    
foreign and extrinsecal to it2 and this 
has often polluted the artistic purity  
of his compositions4 ,thus1 the end of  
his ,mahomet was to portray the dangers 
of fanaticism1 or rather1 laying aside  
all circumlocution1 of a belief in      
revelation4 ,for this purpose1 he has   
most unjustifiably disfigured a great   
historical character1 revoltingly loaded
 him with the most crying enormities1   
with which he racks and tortures our    
feelings4 ,universally known1 as he was1
 to be the bitter enemy of              
,christianity1 he bethought himself of a
 new triumph for his vanity2 in ,zaire  

and ,alzire1 he had recourse to         
,christian sentiments to excite emotion3
 and here1 for once1 his versatile      
heart1 which1 indeed1 in its momentary  
ebullitions1 was not unsusceptible of   
good feelings1 shamed the rooted malice 
of his understanding2 he actually       
succeeded1 and these affecting and      
religious passages cry out loudly       
against the slanderous levity of his    
petulant misrepresentations4 ,in        
,england he had acquired a knowledge of 
a free constitution1 and became an      
enthusiastic admirer of liberty4        
,corneille had introduced the ,roman    
republicanism and general politics into 
his works1 for the sake of their        
poetical energy4 ,voltaire again        
exhibited them under a poetical form1   
because of the political effect he      
thought them calculated to produce on   
popular opinion4 ,as he fancied he was  
better acquainted with the ,greeks than 
his predecessors1 and as he had obtained
 a slight knowledge of the ,english     

theatre and ,shakspeare1 which1 before  
him1 were for ,france1 quite an unknown 
land1 he wished in like manner to use   
them to his own advantage4--,he insisted
 on the earnestness1 the severity1 and  
the simplicity of the ,greek dramatic   
representation2 and actually in so far  
approached them1 as to exclude love from
 various subjects to which it did not   
properly belong4 ,he was desirous of    
reviving the majesty of the ,grecian    
scenery2 and here his endeavours had    
this good effect1 that in theatrical    
representation the eye was no longer so 
miserably neglected as it had been4 ,he 
borrowed from ,shakspeare1 as he        
thought1 bold strokes of theatrical     
effect2 but here he was the least       
successful2 when1 in imitation of that  
great master1 he ventured in ,semiramis 
to call up a ghost from the lower world1
 he fell into innumerable absurdities4  
,in a word he was perpetually making    
experiments with dramatic art1 availing 
himself of some new device for effect4  

,hence some of his works seem to have   
stopt short half way between studies and
 finished productions2 there is a trace 
of something unfixed and unfinished in  
his whole mental formation4 ,corneille  
and ,racine1 within the limits which    
they set themselves1 are much more      
perfect2 they are altogether that which 
they are1 and we have no glimpses in    
their works of any supposed higher      
object beyond them4 ,voltaire's         
pretensions are much more extensive than
 his means4 ,corneille has expressed the
 maxims of heroism with greater         
sublimity1 and ,racine the natural      
emotions with a sweeter gracefulness2   
while ,voltaire1 it must be allowed1 has
 employed the moral motives with greater
 effect1 and displayed a more intimate  
acquaintance with the primary and       
fundamental principles of the human     
mind4 ,hence1 in some of his pieces1 he 
is more deeply affecting than either of 
the other two4  ,the first and last only
 of these three great masters of the    

,french tragic stage can be said to be  
fruitful writers2 and1 even these can   
hardly be accounted so1 if compared with
 the ,greeks4 ,that ,racine was not more
 prolific1 was owing partly to          
accidental circumstances4 ,he enjoys    
this advantage1 however1 that with the  
exception of his first youthful         
attempts1 the whole of his pieces have  
kept possession of the stage1 and the   
public estimation4 ,but many of         
,corneille's and ,voltaire's1 even such 
as were popular at first1 have been     
since withdrawn from the stage1 and at  
present are not even so much as read4   
,accordingly1 selections only from their
 works1 under the title of              
,chef-d'oeuvres1 are now generally      
published4 ,it is remarkable1 that few  
only of the many ,french attempts in    
,tragedy have been successful4 ,la      
,harpe reckons up nearly a thousand     
tragedies which have been acted or      
printed since the death of ,racine2 and 
of these not more than thirty1 besides  

those of ,voltaire1 have kept possession
 of the stage4 ,notwithstanding1        
therefore1 the great competition in this
 department1 the tragic treasures of the
 ,french are far from ample4 ,still we  
do not feel ourselves called upon to    
give a full account even of these2 and  
still farther is it from our purpose to 
enter into a circumstantial and         
anatomical investigation of separate    
pieces4 ,all that our limits will allow 
us is1 with a rapid pen1 to sketch the  
character and relative value of the     
principal works of those three masters1 
and a few others specially deserving of 
mention4  ,corneille brilliantly opened 
his career of fame with the ,cid1 of    
which1 indeed1 the execution alone is   
his own3 in the plan he appears to have 
closely followed his ,spanish original4 
,as the ,cid of ,guillen de ,castro has 
never fallen into my hands1 it has been 
out of my power to institute an accurate
 comparison between the two works4 ,but 
if we may judge from the specimens      

produced1 the ,spanish piece seems      
written with far greater simplicity2 and
 the subject owes to ,corneille its     
rhetorical pomp of ornament4 ,on the    
other hand1 we are ignorant how much he 
has left out and sacrificed4 ,all the   
,french critics are agreed in thinking  
the part of the ,infanta superfluous4   
,they cannot see that by making a       
princess forget her elevated rank1 and  
entertain a passion for ,rodrigo1 the   
,spanish poet thereby distinguished him 
as the flower of noble and amiable      
knights2 and1 on the other hand1        
furnished a strong justification of     
,chimene's love1 which so many powerful 
motives could not overcome4 ,it is true1
 that to be attractive in themselves1   
and duly to aid the general effect1 the 
,infanta's passion required to be set   
forth more musically1 and ,rodrigo's    
achievements against the ,moors more    
especially1 i4 e41 with greater         
vividness of detail3 and probably they  
were so in the ,spanish original4 ,the  

rapturous applause1 which1 on its first 
appearance1 universally welcomed a piece
 like this1 which1 without the admixture
 of any ignoble incentive1 founded its  
attraction altogether on the represented
 conflict between the purest feelings of
 love1 honour1 and filial duty1 is a    
strong proof that the romantic spirit   
was not yet extinct among spectators who
 were still open to such natural        
impressions4 ,this was entirely         
misunderstood by the learned2 with the  
,academy at their head1 they affirmed   
that this subject 7one of the most      
beautiful that ever fell to the lot of a
 poet7 was unfit for ,tragedy2 incapable
 of entering historically into the      
spirit of another age1 they made up     
improbabilities and improprieties for   
their censure4 ,footnote3 ,scuderi      
speaks even of ,chimene as a monster1   
and off-hand dismisses the whole1 as ce 
mchant combat de l'amour et de          
l'honneur4 ,excellent6 ,surely he       
understood the romantic6 ,the ,cid is   

not certainly a tragedy in the sense of 
the ancients2 and1 at first1 the poet   
himself called it a ,tragi-comedy4      
,would that this had been the only      
occasion in which the authority of      
,aristotle has been applied to subjects 
which do not belong to his jurisdiction6
  ,the ,horatii has been censured for   
want of unity2 the murder of the sister 
and the acquittal of the victorious     
,roman is said to be a second action1   
independent of the combat of the        
,horatii and ,curiatii4 ,corneille      
himself was talked into a belief of it4 
,he appears1 however1 to me fully       
justified in what he has done4 ,if the  
murder of ,camilla had not made a part  
of the piece1 the female characters in  
the first act would have been           
superfluous2 and without the triumph of 
patriotism over family ties1 the combat 
could not have been an action1 but      
merely an event destitute of all tragic 
complication4 ,but the real defect1 in  
my opinion1 is ,corneille representing a

 public act which decided the fate of   
two states1 as taking place altogether  
infra privates parietes1 and stripping  
it of every visible pomp of             
circumstance4 ,hence the great flatness 
of the fifth act4 ,what a different     
impression would have been produced had 
,horatius1 in presence of the king and  
people1 been solemnly condemned1 in     
obedience to the stern mandate of the   
law1 and afterwards saved through the   
tears and lamentations of his father1   
just as ,livy describes it4 ,moreover1  
the poet1 not satisfied with making1 as 
the history does1 one sister of the     
,horatii in love with one of the        
,curiatii1 has thought proper to invent 
the marriage of a sister of the         
,curiatii with one of the ,horatii3 and 
as in the former the love of country    
yields to personal inclination1 in the  
latter personal inclination yields to   
love of country4 ,this gives rise to a  
great improbability3 for is it likely   
that men would have been selected for   

the combat who1 with a well-known family
 connexion of this kind1 would have had 
the most powerful inducements to spare  
one another8 ,besides1 the conqueror's  
murder of his sister cannot be rendered 
even poetically tolerable1 except by    
supposing him in all the boiling        
impetuosity of ungovernable youth4      
,horatius1 already a husband1 would have
 shown a wiser and milder forbearance   
towards his unfortunate sister's        
language2 else were he a ferocious      
savage4  ,cinna is commonly ranked much 
higher than ,the ,horatii2 although1 as 
to purity of sentiment1 there is here a 
perceptible falling off from that ideal 
sphere in which the action of the two   
preceding pieces moves4 ,all is         
diversely complicated and diseased4     
,cinna's republicanism is merely the    
cloak of another passion3 he is a tool  
in the hands of ,emilia1 who1 on her    
part1 constantly sacrifices her         
pretended love to her passion of        
revenge4 ,the magnanimity of ,augustus  

is ambiguous3 it appears rather the     
caution of a tyrant grown timid through 
age4 ,the conspiracy is1 with a splendid
 narration1 thrust into the background2 
it does not excite in us that gloomy    
apprehension which so theatrical an     
object ought to do4 ,emilia1 the soul of
 the piece1 is called by the witty      
,balzac1 when commending the work1 an   
adorable fury4 ,yet the ,furies         
themselves could be appeased by         
purifications and expiations3 but       
,emilia's heart is inaccessible to the  
softening influences of benevolence and 
generosity2 the adoration of so         
unfeminine a creature is hardly         
pardonable even in a lover4 ,hence she  
has no better adorers than ,cinna and   
,maximus1 two great villains1 whose     
repentance comes too late to be thought 
sincere4  ,here we have the first       
specimen of that ,machiavellism of      
motives1 which subsequently disfigured  
the poetry of ,corneille1 and which is  
not only repulsive1 but also for the    

most part both clumsy and unsuitable4   
,he flattered himself1 that in knowledge
 of men and the world1 in an            
acquaintance with courts and politics1  
he surpassed the most shrewd and        
clear-sighted observers4 ,with a mind   
naturally alive to honour1 he yet       
conceived the design of taking in hand  
the doctrine of the murderous           
,machiavel2 and displays1 broadly and   
didactically1 all the knowledge which he
 had acquired of these arts4 ,he had no 
suspicion that a remorseless and selfish
 policy goes always smoothly to work1   
and dexterously disguises itself4 ,had  
he been really capable of anything of   
the kind1 he might have taken a lesson  
from ,richelieu4  ,of the remaining     
pieces in which ,corneille has painted  
the ,roman love of liberty and conquest1
 the ,death of ,pompey is the most      
eminent4 ,it is full1 however1 of a     
grandeur which is more dazzling than    
genuine2 and1 indeed1 we could expect   
nothing else from a cento of ,lucan's   

hyperbolical antitheses4 ,these bravuras
 of rhetoric are strung together on the 
thread of a clumsy plot4 ,the intrigues 
of ,ptolemy1 and the ambitious coquetry 
of his sister ,cleopatra1 have a petty  
and miserable appearance alongside of   
the picture of the fate of the great    
,pompey1 the vengeance-breathing sorrow 
of his wife1 and the magnanimous        
compassion of ,caesar4 ,scarcely has the
 conqueror paid the last honours to the 
reluctant shade of his rival1 when he   
does homage at the feet of the beautiful
 queen2 he is not only in love1 but     
sighingly and ardently in love4         
,cleopatra1 on her part1 according to   
the poet's own expression1 is desirous1 
by her love-ogling1 to gain the sceptre 
of her brother4 ,caesar certainly made  
love1 in his own way1 to a number of    
women3 but these cynical loves1 if      
represented with anything like truth1   
would be most unfit for the stage4 ,who 
can refrain from laughing1 when ,rome1  
in the speech of ,caesar1 implores the  

chaste love of ,cleopatra for young     
,caesar8  ,in ,sertorius1 a much later  
work1 ,corneille has contrived to make  
the great ,pompey appear little1 and the
 hero ridiculous4 ,sertorius on one     
occasion exclaims--    ,que c'est un    
sort cruel d'aimer par politique6  ,this
 admits of being applied to all the     
personages of the piece4 ,in love they  
are not in the least2 but they allow a  
pretended love to be subservient to     
political ends4 ,sertorius1 a hardy and 
hoary veteran1 acts the lover with the  
,spanish ,queen1 ,viriata2 he brings    
forward1 however1 pretext after pretext1
 and offers himself the while to        
,aristia2 as ,viriata presses him to    
marry her on the spot1 he begs anxiously
 for a short delay2 ,viriata1 along with
 her other elegant phrases1 says        
roundly1 that she neither knows love nor
 hatred2 ,aristia1 the repudiated wife  
of ,pompey1 says to him1 ,take me back  
again1 or ,i will marry another2 ,pompey
 beseeches her to wait only till the    

death of ,sylla1 whom he dare not       
offend3 after this there is no need to  
mention the low scoundrel ,perpenna4    
,the tendency to this frigidity of soul 
was perceptible in ,corneille1 even at  
an early period of his career2 but in   
the works of his old age it increased to
 an incredible degree4  ,in ,polyeucte1 
,christian sentiments are not unworthily
 expressed2 yet we find in it more      
superstitious reverence than fervent    
enthusiasm for religion3 the wonders of 
grace are rather affirmed1 than embraced
 by a mysterious illumination4 ,both the
 tone and the situations in the first   
acts1 incline greatly1 as ,voltaire     
observes1 to comedy4 ,a woman who1 in   
obedience to her father1 has married    
against her inclinations1 and who       
declares both to her lover 7who returns 
when too late7 and to her husband1 that 
she still retains her first love1 but   
that she will keep within the bounds of 
virtue2 a vulgar and selfish father1 who
 is sorry that he has not chosen for his

 son-in-law the first suitor1 now become
 the favourite of the ,emperor2 all this
 promises no very high tragical         
determinations4 ,the divided heart of   
,paulina is in nature1 and consequently 
does not detract from the interest of   
the piece4 ,it is generally agreed that 
her situation1 and the character of     
,severus1 constitute the principal charm
 of this drama4 ,but the practical      
magnanimity of this ,roman1 in          
conquering his passion1 throws          
,polyeucte's self-renunciation1 which   
appears to cost him nothing1 quite into 
the shade4 ,from this a conclusion has  
been partly drawn1 that martyrdom is1 in
 general1 an unfavourable subject for   
,tragedy4 ,but nothing can be more      
unjust than this inference4 ,the        
cheerfulness with which martyrs embraced
 pain and death did not proceed from    
want of feeling1 but from the heroism of
 the highest love3 they must previously1
 in struggles painful beyond expression1
 have obtained the victory over every   

earthly tie2 and by the exhibition of   
these struggles1 of these sufferings of 
our mortal nature1 while the seraph     
soars on its flight to heaven1 the poet 
may awaken in us the most fervent       
emotion4 ,in ,polyeucte1 however1 the   
means employed to bring about the       
catastrophe1 namely1 the dull and low   
artifice of ,felix1 by which the        
endeavours of ,severus to save his rival
 are made rather to contribute to his   
destruction1 are inexpressibly          
contemptible4  ,how much ,corneille     
delighted in the symmetrical and nicely 
balanced play of intrigue1 we may see at
 once from his having pronounced        
,rodogune his favourite work4 ,i shall  
content myself with referring to        
,lessing1 who has exposed pleasantly    
enough the ridiculous appearance which  
the two distressed princes cut1 between 
a mother who says1 ,he who murders his  
mistress ,i will name heir to my throne1
 and a mistress who says1 ,he who       
murders his mother shall be my husband4 

,the best and shortest way of going to  
work would have been to have locked up  
the two furies together4 ,as for        
,voltaire1 he is always recurring to the
 fifth act1 which he declares to be one 
of the noblest productions of the       
,french stage4 ,this singular way of    
judging works of art by piecemeal1 which
 would praise the parts in distinction  
from the whole1 without which it is     
impossible for the parts to exist1 is   
altogether foreign to our way of        
thinking4  ,with respect to ,heraclius1 
,voltaire gives himself the unnecessary 
trouble of showing that ,calderon did   
not imitate ,corneille2 and1 on the     
other hand1 he labours1 with little     
success1 to give a negative to the      
question whether the latter had the     
,spanish author before him1 and availed 
himself of his labours4 ,corneille1 it  
is true1 gives out the whole as his own 
invention2 but we must not forget1 that 
only when hard pressed did he           
acknowledge how much he owed to the     

author of the ,spanish ,cid4 ,the chief 
circumstance of the plot1 namely1 the   
uncertainty of the tyrant ,phocas as to 
which of the two youths is his own son1 
or the son of his murdered predecessor1 
bears great resemblance to an incident  
in a drama of ,calderon's1 and nothing  
of the kind is to be found in history2  
in other respects the plot is1 it is    
true1 altogether different4 ,however    
this may be1 in ,calderon the ingenious 
boldness of an extravagant invention is 
always preserved in due keeping by a    
deeper magic colouring of the poetry2   
whereas in ,corneille1 after our head   
has become giddy in endeavouring to     
disentangle a complicated and           
ill-contrived intrigue1 we are          
recompensed by a succession of mere     
tragical epigrams1 without the slightest
 recreation for the fancy4  ,nicomedes  
is a political comedy1 the dryness of   
which is hardly in any degree relieved  
by the ironical tone which runs through 
the speeches of the hero4  ,this is     

nearly all of ,corneille's that now     
appears on the stage4 ,his later works  
are1 without exception1 merely treatises
 or reasons of state in certain         
difficult conjunctures1 dressed out in a
 pompous dialogical form4 ,we might as  
well make a tragedy out of a game at    
chess4  ,those who have the patience to 
wade through the forgotten pieces of    
,corneille will perceive with           
astonishment that they are constructed  
on the same principles1 and1 with the   
exception of occasional negligences of  
style1 executed with as much expenditure
 of what he considered art1 as his      
admired productions4 ,for example1      
,attila bears in its plot a striking    
resemblance to ,rodogune4 ,in his own   
judgments on his works1 it is impossible
 not to be struck with the unessential  
nature of things on which he lays       
stress2 all along he seems quite        
unconcerned about that which is         
certainly the highest object of tragical
 composition1 the laying open the depths

 of the mind and the destiny of man4    
,for the unfavourable reception which he
 has so frequently to confess1 his      
self-love can always find some excuse1  
some trifling circumstance to which the 
fate of his piece was to be attributed4 
,in the two first youthful attempts of  
,racine1 nothing deserves to be         
remarked1 but the flexibility with which
 he accommodated himself to the limits  
fixed by ,corneille to the career which 
he had opened4 ,in the ,andromache he   
first broke loose from them and became  
himself4 ,he gave utterance to the      
inward struggles and inconsistencies of 
passion1 with a truth and an energy     
which had never before been witnessed on
 the ,french stage4 ,the fidelity of    
,andromache to the memory of her        
husband1 and her maternal tenderness1   
are affectingly beautiful3 even the     
proud ,hermione carries us along with   
her in her wild aberrations4 ,her       
aversion to ,orestes1 after he had made 
himself the instrument of her revenge1  

and her awaking from her blind fury to  
utter helplesssness and despair1 may    
almost be called tragically grand4 ,the 
male parts1 as is generally the case    
with ,racine1 are not to advantageously 
drawn4 ,the constantly repeated threat  
of ,pyrrhus to deliver up ,astyanax to  
death1 if ,andromache should not listen 
to him1 with his gallant protestations1 
resembles the arts of an executioner1   
who applies the torture to his victim   
with the most courtly phrases4 ,it is   
difficult to think of ,orestes1 after   
his horrible deed1 as a light-hearted   
and patient lover4 ,not the least       
mention is made of the murder of his    
mother2 he seems to have completely     
forgotten it the whole piece through2   
whence1 then1 do the ,furies come all at
 once at the end8 ,this is a singular   
contradiction4 ,in short1 the way in    
which the whole is connected together   
bears too great a resemblance to certain
 sports of children1 where one always   
runs before and tries to surprise the   

other4  ,in ,britannicus1 ,i have       
already praised the historical fidelity 
of the picture4 ,nero1 ,agrippina1      
,narcissus1 and ,burrhus1 are so        
accurately sketched1 and finished with  
such light touches and such delicate    
colouring1 that1 in respect to          
character1 it yields1 perhaps1 to no    
,french tragedy whatever4 ,racine has   
here possessed the art of giving us to  
understand much that is left unsaid1 and
 enabling us to look forward into       
futurity4 ,i will only notice one       
inconsistency which has escaped the     
poet4 ,he would paint to us the cruel   
voluptuary1 whom education has only in  
appearance tamed1 breaking loose from   
the restraints of discipline and virtue4
 ,and yet1 at the close of the fourth   
act1 ,narcissus speaks as if he had even
 then exhibited himself before the      
people as a player and a charioteer4    
,but it was not until he had been       
hardened by the commission of grave     
crimes that he sunk to this ignominy4   

,to represent the perfect ,nero1 that   
is1 the flattering and cowardly tyrant1 
in the same person with the vain and    
fantastical being who1 as poet1 singer1 
player1 and almost as juggler1 was      
desirous of admiration1 and in the agony
 of death even recited verses from      
,homer1 was compatible only with a mixed
 drama1 in which tragical dignity is not
 required throughout4  ,to ,berenice1   
composed in honour of a virtuous        
princess1 the ,french critics generally 
seem to me extremely unjust4 ,it is an  
idyllic tragedy1 no doubt2 but it is    
full of mental tenderness4 ,no one was  
better skilled than ,racine in throwing 
a veil of dignity over female           
weakness4--,who doubts that ,berenice   
has long yielded to ,titus every proof  
of her tenderness1 however carefully it 
may be veiled over8 ,she is like a      
,magdalena of ,guido1 who languishingly 
repents of her repentance4 ,the chief   
error of the piece is the tiresome part 
of ,antiochus4  ,on the first           

representation of ,bajazet1 ,corneille1 
it seems was heard to say1 ,these ,turks
 are very much ,frenchified4 ,the       
censure1 as is well known1 attaches     
principally to the parts of ,bajazet and
 ,atalide4 ,the old ,grand ,vizier is   
certainly ,turkish enough2 and were a   
,sultana ever to become the ,sultan1 she
 would perhaps throw the handkerchief in
 the same ,sultanic manner as the       
disgusting ,roxane4 ,i have already     
observed that ,turkey1 in its naked     
rudeness1 hardly admits of              
representation before a cultivated      
public4 ,racine felt this1 and merely   
refined the forms without changing the  
main incidents4 ,the mutes and the      
strangling were motives which in a      
seraglio could hardly be dispensed with2
 and so he gives1 on several occasions1 
very elegant circumlocutory descriptions
 of strangling4 ,this is1 however1      
inconsistent2 when people are so        
familiar with the idea of a thing1 they 
usually call it also by its true name4  

,the intrigue of ,mithridate1 as        
,voltaire has remarked1 bears great     
resemblance to that of the ,miser of    
,molire4 ,two brothers are rivals for   
the bride of their father1 who cunningly
 extorts from her the name of her       
favoured lover1 by feigning a wish to   
renounce in his favour4 ,the confusion  
of both sons1 when they learn that their
 father1 whom they had believed dead1 is
 still alive1 and will speedily make his
 appearance1 is in reality exceedingly  
comic4 ,the one calls out3 ,qu'avons    
nous fait8 ,this is just the alarm of   
school-boys1 conscious of some          
impropriety1 on the unexpected entrance 
of their master4 ,the political scene1  
where ,mithridates consults his sons    
respecting his grand project of         
conquering ,rome1 and in which ,racine  
successfully competes with ,corneille1  
is no doubt logically interwoven in the 
general plan2 but still it is unsuitable
 to the tone of the whole1 and the      
impression which it is intended to      

produce4 ,all the interest is centred in
 ,monime3 she is one of ,racine's most  
amiable creations1 and excites in us a  
tender commiseration4  ,on no work of   
this poet will the sentence of ,german  
readers differ more from that of the    
,french critics and their whole public1 
than on the ,iphigenie4--,voltaire      
declares it the tragedy of all times and
 all nations1 which approaches as near  
to perfection as human essays can2 and  
in this opinion he is universally       
followed by his countrymen4 ,but we see 
in it only a modernised ,greek tragedy1 
of which the manners are inconsistent   
with the mythological traditions1 its   
simplicity destroyed by the intriguing  
,eriphile1 and in which the amorous     
,achilles1 however brave in other       
respects his behaviour may be1 is       
altogether insupportable4 ,la ,harpe    
affirms that the ,achilles of ,racine is
 even more ,homeric than that of        
,euripides4 ,what shall we say to this8 
,before acquiescing in the sentences of 

such critics1 we must first forget the  
,greeks4  ,respecting ,phdre ,i may     
express myself with the greater brevity1
 as ,i have already dedicated a separate
 ,treatise to that tragedy4 ,however    
much ,racine may have borrowed from     
,euripides and ,seneca1 and however he  
may have spoiled the former without     
improving the latter1 still it is a     
great advance from the affected         
mannerism of his age to a more genuine  
tragic style4 ,when we compare it with  
the ,phaedra of ,pradon1 which was so   
well received by his contemporaries for 
no other reason than because no trace   
whatever of antiquity was discernible in
 it1 but every thing reduced to the     
scale of a modern miniature portrait for
 a toilette1 we must entertain a higher 
admiration of the poet who had so strong
 a feeling for the excellence of the    
ancient poets1 and the courage to attach
 himself to them1 and dared1 in an age  
of vitiated and unnatural taste1 to     
display so much purity and unaffected   

simplicity4 ,if ,racine actually said1  
that the only difference between his    
,phaedra and that of ,pradon was1 that  
he knew how to write1 he did himself the
 most crying injustice1 and must have   
allowed himself to be blinded by the    
miserable doctrine of his friend        
,boileau1 which made the essence of     
poetry to consist in diction and        
versification1 instead of the display of
 imagination and fancy4  ,racine's last 
two pieces belong1 as is well known1 to 
a very different epoch of his life3 they
 were both written at the same          
instigation2 but are extremely          
dissimilar to each other4 ,esther       
scarcely deserves the name of a tragedy2
 written for the entertainment of       
well-bred young women in a pious        
seminary1 it does not rise much higher  
than its purpose4 ,it had1 however1 an  
astonishing success4 ,the invitation to 
the representations in ,st4 ,cyr was    
looked upon as a court favour2 flattery 
and scandal delighted to discover       

allusions throughout the piece2         
,ahasuerus was said to represent ,louis 
,,xiv2 ,esther1 ,madame de ,maintenon2  
the proud ,vasti1 who is only           
incidentally alluded to1 ,madame de     
,montespan2 and ,haman1 the ,minister   
,louvois4 ,this is certainly rather a   
profane application of the sacred       
history1 if we can suppose the poet to  
have had any such object in view4 ,in   
,athalie1 however1 the poet exhibited   
himself for the last time1 before taking
 leave of poetry and the world1 in his  
whole strength4 ,it is not only his most
 finished work1 but1 ,i have no         
hesitation in declaring it to be1 of all
 ,french tragedies the one which1 free  
from all mannerism1 approaches the      
nearest to the grand style of the       
,greeks4 ,the chorus is conceived fully 
in the ancient sense1 though introduced 
in a different manner in order to suit  
our music1 and the different arrangement
 of our theatre4 ,the scene has all the 
majesty of a public action4             

,expectation1 emotion1 and keen         
agitation succeed each other1 and       
continually rise with the progress of   
the drama3 with a severe abstinence from
 all foreign matter1 there is still a   
display of the richest variety1         
sometimes of sweetness1 but more        
frequently of majesty and grandeur4 ,the
 inspiration of the prophet elevates the
 fancy to flights of more than usual    
boldness4 ,its import is exactly what   
that of a religious drama ought to be3  
on earth1 the struggle between good and 
evil2 and in heaven the wakeful eye of  
providence beaming1 from unapproachable 
glory1 rays of constancy and resolution4
 ,all is animated by one breath--the    
poet's pious enthusiasm1 of whose       
sincerity neither his life nor the work 
itself allow us a moment to doubt4 ,this
 is the very point in which so many     
,french works of art with their great   
pretensions are1 nevertheless1          
deficient3 their authors were not       
inspired by a fervent love of their     

subject1 but by the desire of external  
effect3 and hence the vanity of the     
artist is continually breaking forth to 
throw a damp over our feelings4  ,the   
unfortunate fate of this piece is well  
known4 ,scruples of conscience as to the
 propriety of all theatrical            
representations 7which appear to be     
exclusively entertained by the ,gallican
 church1 for both in ,italy and ,spain  
men of religion and piety have thought  
very differently on this subject17      
prevented the representation in ,st4    
,cyr2 it appeared in print1 and was     
universally abused and reprobated2 and  
this reprobation of it long survived its
 author4 ,so incapable of every thing   
serious was the puerile taste of the    
age4  ,among the poets of this period1  
the younger ,corneille deserves to be   
mentioned1 who did not seek1 like his   
brother1 to excite astonishment by      
pictures of heroism so much as to win   
the favour of the spectators by those   
tendernesses which1 to use the words of 

,pradon1 are so agreeable4 ,of his      
numerous tragedies1 two1 only the ,comte
 d',essex and ,ariadn1 keep possession  
of the stage2 the rest are consigned to 
oblivion4 ,the latter of the two1       
composed after the model of ,berenice1  
is a tragedy of which the catastrophe   
may1 properly speaking1 be said to      
consist in a swoon4 ,the situation of   
the resigned and enamoured ,ariadne1    
who1 after all her sacrifices1 sees     
herself abandoned by ,theseus and       
betrayed by her own sister1 is expressed
 with great truth of feeling4 ,whenever 
an actress of an engaging figure1 and   
with a sweet voice1 appears in this     
character1 she is sure to excite our    
interest4 ,the other parts1 the cold and
 deceitful ,theseus1 the intriguing     
,phaedra1 who continues to the last her 
deception of her confiding sister1 the  
pandering ,pirithbus1 and ,king         
,oenarus1 who instantly offers himself  
in the place of the faithless lover1 are
 all pitiful in the extreme1 and        

frequently even laughable4 ,moreover1   
the desert rocks of ,naxos are here     
smoothed down to modern drawing-rooms2  
and the princes who people them1 with   
all the observances of politeness seek  
to out-wit each other1 or to beguile the
 unfortunate princess1 who alone has    
anything like pretensions to nature4    
,crebillon1 in point of time1 comes     
between ,racine and ,voltaire1 though he
 was also the rival of the latter4 ,a   
numerous party wished to set him1 when  
far advanced in years1 on a par with1   
nay1 even to rank him far higher than1  
,voltaire4 ,nothing1 however1 but the   
bitterest rancour of party1 or the      
utmost depravity of taste1 or1 what is  
most probable1 the two together1 could  
have led them to such signal injustice4 
,far from having contributed to the     
purification of the tragic art1 he      
evidently attached himself1 not to the  
better1 but the more affected authors of
 the age of ,louis the ,fourteenth4 ,in 
his total ignorance of the ancients1 he 

has the arrogance to rank himself above 
them4 ,his favourite books were the     
antiquated romances of a ,calprenede1   
and others of a similar stamp3 from     
these he derived his extravagant and    
ill-connected plots4 ,one of the means  
to which he everywhere has recourse1 is 
the unconscious or intentional disguise 
of the principal characters under other 
names2 the first example of which was   
given in the ,heraclius4 ,thus1 in      
,crebillon's ,electra1 ,orestes does not
 become known to himself before the     
middle of the piece4 ,the brother and   
sister1 and a son and daughter of       
,aegisthus1 are almost exclusively      
occupied with their double amours1 which
 neither contribute to1 nor injure1 the 
main action2 and ,clytemnestra is killed
 by a blow from ,orestes1 which1 without
 knowing her1 he unintentionally and    
involuntarily inflicts4 ,he abounds in  
extravagances of every kind2 of such1   
for instance1 as the shameless impudence
 of ,semiramis1 in persisting in her    

love after she has learnt that its      
object is her own son4 ,a few empty     
ravings and common-place displays of    
terror1 have gained for ,crebillon the  
appellation of the terrible1 which      
affords us a standard for judging of the
 barbarous and affected taste of the    
age1 and the infinite distance from     
nature and truth to which it had fallen4
 ,it is pretty much the same as1 in     
painting1 to give the appellation of the
 majestic to ,coypel4     ,,lecture     
,,xx4  ,voltaire--,tragedies on ,greek  
,subjects3 ,oedipe1 ,merope1 ,oreste--  
,tragedies on ,roman ,subjects3 ,brute1 
,mort de ,csar1 ,catiline1 ,le          
,triumvirat--,earlier ,pieces3 ,zaire1  
,alzire1 ,mahomet1 ,semiramis1 and      
,tancred4   ,to ,voltaire1 from his     
first entrance on his dramatic career1  
we must give credit both for a          
conviction that higher and more         
extensive efforts remained to be made1  
and for the zeal necessary to accomplish
 all that was yet undone4 ,how far he   

was successful1 and how much he was     
himself blinded by the very national    
prejudices against which he contended1  
is another question4 ,for the more easy 
review of his works1 it will be useful  
to class together the pieces in which he
 handled mythological materials1 and    
those which he derived from the ,roman  
history4  ,his earliest tragedy1        
,oedipe1 is a mixture of adherence to   
the ,greeks ,footnote3 ,his admiration  
of them seems to have been more derived 
from foreign influence than from        
personal study4 ,in his letter to the   
,duchess of ,maine1 prefixed to ,oreste1
 he relates how1 in his early youth1 he 
had access to a noble house where it was
 a custom to read ,sophocles1 and to    
make extemporary translations from him1 
and where there were men who            
acknowledged the superiority of the     
,greek ,theatre over the ,french4 ,in   
vain1 in the present day1 should we seek
 for such men in ,france1 among people  
of any distinction1 so universally is   

the study of the classics depreciated4  
7with the proviso1 however1 as may be   
supposed1 of improving on them17 and of 
compliance with the prevailing manner4  
,the best feature of this work ,voltaire
 owed to ,sophocles1 whom he            
nevertheless slanders in his preface2   
and in comparison with whose catastrophe
 his own is flat in the extreme4 ,not a 
little1 however1 was borrowed from the  
frigid ,oedipus of ,corneille2 and more 
especially the love of ,philoctetus for 
,jocaste1 which may be said to          
correspond nearly with that of ,theseus 
and ,dirce in ,corneille4 ,voltaire     
alleged in his defence the tyranny of   
the players1 from which a young and     
unknown writer cannot emancipate        
himself4 ,we may notice the frequent    
allusions to priestcraft1 superstition1 
c41 which even at that early period     
betray the future direction of his mind4
  ,the ,merope1 a work of his ripest    
years1 was intended as a perfect revival
 of ,greek tragedy1 an undertaking of so

 great difficulty1 and so long announced
 with every note of preparation4 ,its   
real merit is the exclusion of the      
customary love-scenes 7of which1        
however1 ,racine had already given an   
example in the ,athalie72 for in other  
respects ,german readers hardly need to 
be told how much is not conceived in the
 true ,grecian spirit4 ,moreover the    
confidants are also entirely after the  
old traditional cut4 ,the other defects 
of the piece have been circumstantially1
 and1 ,i might almost say1 too severely1
 censured by ,lessing4 ,the tragedy of  
,merope1 if well acted1 can hardly fail 
of being received with a certain degree 
of favour4 ,this is owing to the nature 
of its subject4 ,the passionate love of 
a mother1 who1 in dread of losing her   
only treasure1 and threatened with cruel
 oppression1 still supports her trials  
with heroic constancy1 and at last      
triumphs over them1 is altogether a     
picture of such truth and beauty1 that  
the sympathy it awakens is beneficent1  

and remains pure from every painful     
ingredient4 ,still we must not forget   
that the piece belongs only in a very   
small measure to ,voltaire4 ,how much he
 has borrowed from ,maffei1 and         
changed-- not always for the better--has
 been already pointed out by ,lessing4  
,of all remodellings of ,greek          
tragedies1 ,oreste1 the latest1 appears 
the farthest from the antique simplicity
 and severity1 although it is free from 
any mixture of love-making1 and all mere
 confidants are excluded4 ,that ,orestes
 should undertake to destroy ,aegisthus 
is nowise singular1 and seems scarcely  
to merit such marked notice in the      
tragical annals of the world4 ,it is the
 case which ,aristotle lays down as the 
most indifferent1 where one enemy       
knowingly attacks the other4 ,and in    
,voltaire's play neither ,orestes nor   
,electra have anything beyond this in   
view3 ,clytemnestra is to be spared2 no 
oracle consigns to her own son the      
execution of the punishment due to her  

guilt4 ,but even the deed in question   
can hardly be said to be executed by    
,orestes himself3 he goes to ,aegisthus1
 and falls1 simply enough it must be    
owned1 into the net1 and is only saved  
by an insurrection of the people4       
,according to the ancients1 the oracle  
had commanded him to attack the         
criminals with cunning1 as they had so  
attacked ,agamemnon4 ,this was a just   
retaliation3 to fall in open conflict   
would have been too honourable a death  
for ,aegisthus4 ,voltaire has added1 of 
his own invention1 that he was also     
prohibited by the oracle from making    
himself known to his sister2 and when   
carried away by fraternal love1 he      
breaks this injunction1 he is blinded by
 the ,furies1 and involuntarily         
perpetrates the deed of matricide4      
,these certainly are singular ideas to  
assign to the gods1 and a most          
unexampled punishment for a slight1 nay1
 even a noble crime4 ,the accidental and
 unintentional stabbing of ,clytemnestra

 was borrowed from ,crebillon4 ,a       
,french writer will hardly venture to   
represent this subject with mythological
 truth2 to describe1 for instance1 the  
murder as intentional1 and executed by  
the command of the gods4 ,if            
,clytemnestra were depicted not as      
rejoicing in the success of her crime1  
but repentant and softened by maternal  
love1 then1 it is true1 her death would 
no longer be supportable4 ,but how does 
this apply to so premeditated a crime8  
,by such a transition to littleness the 
whole profound significance of the      
dreadful example is lost4  ,as the      
,french are in general better acquainted
 with the ,romans than the ,greeks1 we  
might expect the ,roman pieces of       
,voltaire to be more consistent1 in a   
political point of view1 with historical
 truth1 than his ,greek pieces are with 
the symbolical original of mythology4   
,this is1 however1 the case only in     
,brutus1 the earliest of them1 and the  
only one which can be said to be        

sensibly planned4 ,voltaire sketched    
this tragedy in ,england2 he had there  
learned from ,julius ,caesar the effect 
which the publicity of ,republican      
transactions is capable of producing on 
the stage1 and he wished therefore to   
hold something like a middle course     
between ,corneille and ,shakspeare4 ,the
 first act opens majestically2 the      
catastrophe is brief but striking1 and  
throughout the principles of genuine    
freedom are pronounced with a grave and 
noble eloquence4 ,brutus himself1 his   
son ,titus1 the ambassador of the king1 
and the chief of the conspirators1 are  
admirably depicted4 ,i am by no means   
disposed to censure the introduction of 
love into this play4 ,the passion of    
,titus for a daughter of ,tarquin1 which
 constitutes the knot1 is not           
improbable1 and in its tone harmonizes  
with the manners which are depicted4    
,still less am ,i disposed to agree with
 ,la ,harpe1 when he says that ,tullia1 
to afford a fitting counterpoise to the 

republican virtues1 ought to utter proud
 and heroic sentiments1 like ,emilia in 
,cinna4 ,by what means can a noble youth
 be more easily seduced than by female  
tenderness and modesty8 ,it is not1     
generally speaking1 natural that a being
 like ,emilia should ever inspire love4 
,the ,mort de ,csar is a mutilated      
tragedy3 it ends with the speech of     
,antony over the dead body of ,caesar1  
borrowed from ,shakspeare2 that is to   
say1 it has no conclusion4 ,and what a  
patched and bungling thing is it in all 
its parts6 ,how coarse-spun and hurried 
is the conspiracy6 ,how stupid ,caesar  
must have been1 to allow the            
conspirators to brave him before his    
face without suspecting their design6   
,that ,brutus1 although he knew ,caesar 
to be his father1 nay1 immediately after
 this fact had come to his knowledge1   
should lay murderous hands on him1 is   
cruel1 and1 at the same time1 most      
un-,roman4 ,history affords us many     
examples of fathers in ,rome who        

condemned their own sons to death for   
crimes of state2 the law gave fathers an
 unlimited power of life and death over 
their children in their own houses4 ,but
 the murder of a father1 though         
perpetrated in the cause of liberty1    
would1 in the eyes of the ,romans1 have 
stamped the parricide an unnatural      
monster4 ,the inconsistencies which here
 arise from the attempt to observe the  
unity of place1 are obvious to the least
 discerning eye4 ,the scene is laid in  
the ,capitol2 here the conspiracy is    
hatched in the clear light of day1 and  
,caesar the while goes in and out among 
them4 ,but the persons1 themselves1 do  
not seem to know rightly where they are2
 for ,caesar on one occasion exclaims1  
,courons au ,capitole6  ,the same       
improprieties are repeated in ,catiline1
 which is but a little better than the  
preceding piece4 ,from ,voltaire's      
sentiments respecting the dramatic      
exhibition of a conspiracy1 which ,i    
quoted in the foregoing ,lecture1 we    

might well conclude that he had not     
himself a right understanding on this   
head1 were it not quite evident that the
 ,french system rendered a true         
representation of such transactions all 
but impossible1 not only by the required
 observance of the ,unities of ,place   
and ,time1 but also on account of a     
demand for dignity of poetical          
expression1 such as is quite            
incompatible with the accurate mention  
of particular circumstances1 on which1  
however1 in this case depends the       
truthfulness of the whole4 ,the         
machinations of a conspiracy1 and the   
endeavours to frustrate them1 are like  
the underground mine and counter- mine1 
with which the besiegers and the        
besieged endeavour to blow up each      
other4--,something must be done to      
enable the spectators to comprehend the 
art of the miners4 ,if ,catiline and his
 adherents had employed no more art and 
dissimulation1 and ,cicero no more      
determined wisdom1 than ,voltaire has   

given them1 the one could not have      
endangered ,rome1 and the other could   
not have saved it4 ,the piece turns     
always on the same point2 they all      
declaim against each other1 but no one  
acts2 and at the conclusion1 the affair 
is decided as if by accident1 by the    
blind chance of war4 ,when we read the  
simple relation of ,sallust1 it has the 
appearance of the genuine poetry of the 
matter1 and ,voltaire's work by the side
 of it looks like a piece of school     
rhetoric4 ,ben ,jonson has treated the  
subject with a very different insight   
into the true connexion of human        
affairs2 and ,voltaire might have       
learned a great deal from the man in    
traducing whom he did not spare even    
falsehood4  ,the ,triumvirat belongs to 
the acknowledged unsuccessful essays of 
his old age4 ,it consists of endless    
declamations on the subject of          
proscription1 which are poorly supported
 by a mere show of action4 ,here we find
 the ,triumvirs quietly sitting in their

 tents on an island in the small river  
,rhenus1 while storms1 earthquakes1 and 
volcanoes rage around them2 and ,julia  
and the young ,pompeius1 although they  
are travelling on terra firma1 are      
depicted as if they had been just       
shipwrecked on the strand2 besides a    
number of other absurdities4 ,voltaire1 
probably by way of apology for the poor 
success which the piece had on its      
representation1 says1 ,this piece is    
perhaps in the ,english taste4--,heaven 
forbid6  ,we return to the earlier      
tragedies of ,voltaire1 in which he     
brought on the stage subjects never     
before attempted1 and on which his fame 
as a dramatic poet principally rests3   
,zaire1 ,alzire1 ,mahomet1 ,semiramis1  
and ,tancred4  ,zaire is considered in  
,france as the triumph of tragic poetry 
in the representation of lore and       
jealousy4 ,we will not assert with      
,lessing1 that ,voltaire was acquainted 
only with the legal style of love4 ,he  
often expresses feeling with a fiery    

energy1 if not with that familiar truth 
and navet in which an unreserved heart  
lays itself open4 ,but ,i see no trace  
of an oriental colouring in ,zaire's    
cast of feeling3 educated in the        
seraglio1 she should cling to the object
 of her passion with all the fervour of 
a maiden of a glowing imagination1      
rioting1 as it were1 in the fragrant    
perfumes of the ,east4 ,her fanciless   
love dwells solely in the heart2 and    
again how is this conceivable with such 
a character6 ,orosman1 on his part1 lays
 claim indeed to ,european tenderness of
 feeling2 but in him the ,tartar is     
merely varnished over1 and he has       
frequent relapses into the ungovernable 
fury and despotic habits of his race4   
,the poet ought at least to have given a
 credibility to the magnanimity which he
 ascribes to him1 by investing him with 
a celebrated historical name1 such as   
that of the ,saracen monarch ,saladin1  
well known for his nobleness and        
liberality of sentiment4 ,but all our   

sympathy inclines to the oppressed      
,christian and chivalrous side1 and the 
glorious names to which it is           
appropriated4 ,what can be more         
affecting than the royal martyr         
,lusignan1 the upright and pious        
,nerestan1 who1 though in the fire of   
youth1 has no heart for deeds of bloody 
enterprise except to redeem the         
associates of his faith8 ,the scenes in 
which these two characters appear are   
uniformly excellent1 and more           
particularly the whole of the second    
act4 ,the idea of connecting the        
discovery of a daughter with her        
conversion can never be sufficiently    
praised4 ,but1 in my opinion1 the great 
effect of this act is injurious to the  
rest of the piece4 ,does any person     
seriously wish the union of ,zaire with 
,orosman1 except lady spectators        
flattered with the homage which is paid 
to beauty1 or those of the male part of 
the audience who are still entangled in 
the follies of youth8 ,who else can go  

along with the poet1 when ,zaire's love 
for the ,sultan1 so ill-justified by his
 acts1 balances in her soul the voice of
 blood1 and the most sacred claims of   
filial duty1 honour1 and religion8  ,it 
was a praiseworthy daring 7such singular
 prejudices then prevailed in ,france7  
to exhibit ,french heroes in ,zaire4 ,in
 ,alzire ,voltaire went still farther1  
and treated a subject in modern history 
never yet touched by his countrymen4 ,in
 the former piece he contrasted the     
chivalrous and ,saracenic way of        
thinking2 in this we have ,spaniards    
opposed to ,peruvians4 ,the difference  
between the old and new world has given 
rise to descriptions of a truly poetical
 nature4 ,though the action is a pure   
invention1 ,i recognise in this piece   
more historical and more of what we may 
call symbolical truth1 than in most     
,french tragedies4 ,zamor is a          
representation of the savage in his     
free1 and ,monteze in his subdued state2
 ,guzman1 of the arrogance of the       

conqueror2 and ,alvarez1 of the mild    
influence of ,christianity4 ,alzire     
remains between these conflicting       
elements in an affecting struggle       
betwixt attachment to her country1 its  
manners1 and the first choice of her    
heart1 on the one part1 and new ties of 
honour and duty on the other4 ,all the  
human motives speak in favour of        
,alzire's love1 which were against the  
passion of ,zaire4 ,the last scene1     
where the dying ,guzman is dragged in1  
is beneficently overpowering4 ,the noble
 lines on the difference of their       
religions1 by which ,zamor is converted 
by ,guzman1 are borrowed from an event  
in history3 they are the words of the   
,duke of ,guise to a ,huguenot who      
wished to kill him2 but the glory of the
 poet is not therefore less in applying 
them as he has done4 ,in short1         
notwithstanding the improbabilities in  
the plot1 which are easily discovered1  
and have often been censured1 ,alzire   
appears to be the most fortunate        

attempt1 and the most finished of all   
,voltaire's compositions4  ,in ,mahomet1
 want of true singleness of purpose has 
fearfully avenged itself on the artist4 
,he may affirm as much as he pleases    
that his aim was directed solely against
 fanaticism2 there can be no doubt that 
he wished to overthrow the belief in    
revelation altogether1 and that for that
 object he considered every means       
allowable4 ,we have thus a work which is
 productive of effect2 but an alarmingly
 painful effect1 equally repugnant to   
humanity1 philosophy1 and religious     
feeling4 ,the ,mahomet of ,voltaire     
makes two innocent young persons1 a     
brother and sister1 who1 with a         
childlike reverence1 adore him as a     
messenger from ,god1 unconsciously      
murder their own father1 and this from  
the motives of an incestuous love in    
which1 by his allowance1 they had also  
become unknowingly entangled2 the       
brother1 after he has blindly executed  
his horrible mission1 he rewards with   

poison1 and the sister he reserves for  
the gratification of his own vile lust4 
,this tissue of atrocities1 this        
cold-blooded delight in wickedness1     
exceeds perhaps the measure of human    
nature2 but1 at all events1 it exceeds  
the bounds of poetic exhibition1 even   
though such a monster should ever have  
appeared in the course of ages4 ,but1   
overlooking this1 what a disfigurement1 
nay1 distortion1 of history6 ,he has    
stripped her1 too1 of her wonderful     
charms2 not a trace of oriental         
colouring is to be found4 ,mahomet was a
 false prophet1 but one certainly under 
the inspiration of enthusiasm1 otherwise
 he would never by his doctrine have    
revolutionized the half of the world4   
,what an absurdity to make him merely a 
cool deceiver6 ,one alone of the many   
sublime maxims of the ,koran would be   
sufficient to annihilate the whole of   
these incongruous inventions4           
,semiramis is a motley patchwork of the 
,french manner and mistaken imitations4 

,it has something of ,hamlet1 and       
something of ,clytemnestra and ,orestes2
 but nothing of any of them as it ought 
to be4 ,the passion for an unknown son  
is borrowed from the ,semiramis of      
,crebillon4 ,the appearance of ,ninus is
 a mixture of the ,ghost in ,hamlet and 
the shadow of ,darius in ,aeschylus4    
,that it is superfluous has been        
admitted even by the ,french critics4   
,lessing1 with his raillery1 has scared 
away the ,ghost4 ,with a great many     
faults common to ordinary ghost-scenes1 
it has this peculiar one1 that its      
speeches are dreadfully bombastic4      
,notwithstanding the great zeal         
displayed by ,voltaire against          
subordinate love intrigues in tragedy1  
he has1 however1 contrived to exhibit   
two pairs of lovers1 the partie carre as
 it is called1 in this play1 which was  
to be the foundation of an entirely new 
species4  ,since the ,cid1 no ,french   
tragedy had appeared of which the plot  
was founded on such pure motives of     

honour and love without any ignoble     
intermixtures1 and so completely        
consecrated to the exhibition of        
chivalrous sentiments1 as ,tancred4     
,amenaide1 though honour and life are at
 stake1 disdains to exculpate herself by
 a declaration which would endanger her 
lover2 and ,tancred1 though justified in
 esteeming her faith less1 defends her  
in single combat1 and1 in despair1 is   
about to seek a hero's death1 when the  
unfortunate mistake is cleared up4 ,so  
far the piece is irreproachable1 and    
deserving of the greatest praise4 ,but  
it is weakened by other imperfections4  
,it is of great detriment to its        
perspicuity1 that we are not at the very
 first allowed to hear the letter       
without superscription which occasions  
all the embarrassment1 and that it is   
not sent off before our eyes4 ,the      
political disquisitions in the first act
 are extremely tedious2 ,tancred does   
not appear till the third act1 though   
his presence is impatiently looked for1 

to give animation to the scene4 ,the    
furious imprecations of ,amenaide1 at   
the conclusion1 are not in harmony with 
the deep but soft emotion with which we 
are overpowered by the reconciliation of
 the two lovers1 whose hearts1 after so 
long a mutual misunderstanding1 are     
reunited in the moment of separation by 
death4  ,in the earlier piece of the    
,orphelin de la ,chine1 it might be     
considered pardonable if ,voltaire      
represented the great ,dschingis-kan in 
love4 ,this drama ought to be entitled  
,the ,conquest of ,china1 with the      
conversion of the cruel ,khan of        
,tartary1 c4 ,its whole interest is     
concentrated in two children1 who are   
never once seen4 ,the ,chinese are      
represented as the most wise and        
virtuous of mankind1 and they overflow  
with philosophical maxims4 ,as          
,corneille1 in his old age1 made one and
 all of his characters politicians1     
,voltaire in like manner furnished his  
out with philosophy1 and availed himself

 of them to preach up his favourite     
opinions4 ,he was not deterred by the   
example of ,corneille1 when the power of
 representing the passions was extinct1 
from publishing a host of weak and      
faulty productions4  ,since the time of 
,voltaire the constitution of the       
,french stage has remained nearly the   
same4 ,no genius has yet arisen         
sufficiently mighty to advance the art a
 step farther1 and victoriously to      
refute1 by success1 their               
time-strengthened prejudices4 ,many     
attempts have been made1 but they       
generally follow in the track of        
previous essays1 without surpassing     
them4 ,the endeavour to introduce more  
historical extent into dramatic         
composition is frustrated by the        
traditional limitations and restraints4 
,the attacks1 both theoretical and      
practical1 which have been made in      
,france itself on the prevailing system 
of rules1 will be most suitably noticed 
and observed upon when we come to review

 the present condition of the ,french   
stage1 after considering their ,comedy  
and the other secondary kinds of        
dramatic works1 since in these attempts 
have been made either to found new      
species1 or arbitrarily to overturn the 
classification hitherto established4    
,,lecture ,,xxi4  ,french               
,comedy--,molire--,criticism of his     
,works--,scarron1 ,beursault1 ,regnard2 
,comedies in the ,time of the ,regency2 
,marivaux and ,destouches2 ,piron and   
,gresset--,later ,attempts--,the ,heroic
 ,opera3 ,quinault--,operettes and      
,vaudevilles--,diderot's attempted      
,change of the ,theatre--,the ,weeping  
,drama--,beaumarchais--,melo-,dramas--,m
erits and ,defects of the ,histrionic   
,art4   ,the same system of rules and   
proprieties1 which1 as ,i have          
endeavoured to show1 must inevitably    
have a narrowing influence on ,tragedy1 
has1 in ,france1 been applied to ,comedy
 much more advantageously4 ,for this    
mixed species of composition has1 as    

already seen1 an unpoetical side2 and   
some degree of artificial constraint1 if
 not altogether essential to ,comedy1 is
 certainly beneficial to it2 for if it  
is treated with too negligent a         
latitude1 it runs a risk1 in respect of 
general structure1 of falling into      
shapelessness1 and in the representation
 of individual peculiarities1 of sinking
 into every-day common-place4 ,in the   
,french1 as well as in the ,greek1 it   
happens that the same syllabic measure  
is used in ,tragedy and ,comedy1 which1 
on a first view1 may appear singular4   
,but if the ,alexandrine did not appear 
to us peculiarly adapted to the free    
imitative expression of pathos1 on the  
other hand1 it must be owned that a     
comical effect is produced by the       
application of so symmetrical a measure 
to the familiar turns of dialogue4      
,moreover1 the grammatical              
conscientiousness of ,french poetry1    
which is so greatly injurious in other  
species of the drama1 is fully suited to

 ,comedy1 where the versification is not
 purchased at the expense of resemblance
 to the language of conversation1 where 
it is not intended to elevate the       
dialogue by sublimity and dignity above 
real life1 but merely to communicate to 
it greater ease and lightness4 ,hence   
the opinion of the ,french1 who hold a  
comedy in verse in much higher          
estimation than a comedy in prose1 seems
 to me to admit fairly of a             
justification4  ,i endeavoured to show  
that the ,unities of ,place and ,time   
are inconsistent with the essence of    
many tragical subjects1 because a       
comprehensive action is frequently      
carried on in distant places at the same
 time1 and because great determinations 
can only be slowly prepared4 ,this is   
not the case in ,comedy3 here ,intrigue 
ought to prevail1 the active spirit of  
which quickly hurries towards its       
object2 and hence the unity of time may 
here be almost naturally observed4 ,the 
domestic and social circles in which    

,comedy moves are usually assembled in  
one place1 and1 consequently1 the poet  
is not under the necessity of sending   
our imagination abroad3 only it might   
perhaps have been as well not to        
interpret the unity of place so very    
strictly as not to allow the transition 
from one room to another1 or to         
different houses of the same town4 ,the 
choice of the street for the scene1 a   
practice in which the ,latin comic      
writers were frequently followed in the 
earlier times of ,modern ,comedy1 is    
quite irreconcileable with our way of   
living1 and the more deserving of       
censure1 as in the case of the ancients 
it was an inconvenience which arose from
 the construction of their theatre4     
,according to ,french critics1 and the  
opinion which has become prevalent      
through them1 ,molire alone1 of all     
their comic writers1 is classical2 and  
all that has been done since his time is
 merely estimated as it approximates    
more or less to this supposed pattern of

 an excellence which can never be       
surpassed1 nor even equalled4 ,hence we 
shall first proceed to characterize this
 founder of the ,french ,comedy1 and    
then give a short sketch of its         
subsequent progress4  ,molire has       
produced works in so many departments1  
and of such different value1 that we are
 hardly able to recognize the same      
author in all of them2 and yet it is    
usual1 when speaking of his             
peculiarities and merits1 and the       
advance which he gave to his art1 to    
throw the whole of his labours into one 
mass together4  ,born and educated in an
 inferior rank of life1 he enjoyed the  
advantage of learning by direct         
experience the modes of living among the
 industrious portion of the             
community--the so-called ,bourgeois     
class--and of acquiring the talent of   
imitating low modes of expression4 ,at  
an after period1 when ,louis ,,xiv4 took
 him into his service1 he had           
opportunities1 though from a subordinate

 station1 of narrowly observing the     
court4 ,he was an actor1 and1 it would  
appear1 of peculiar power in overcharged
 and farcical comic parts2 so little was
 he possessed with prejudices of        
personal dignity1 that he renounced all 
the conditions by which it was          
accompanied1 and was ever ready to deal 
out1 or to receive the blows which were 
then so frequent on the stage4 ,nay1 his
 mimetic zeal went so far1 that1        
actually sick1 he acted and drew his    
last breath in representing his         
,imaginary ,invalid 7,le ,malade        
,imaginaire71 and became1 in the truest 
sense1 a martyr to the laughter of      
others4 ,his business was to invent all 
manner of pleasant entertainments for   
the court1 and to provoke the greatest  
monarch of the world to laughter1 by way
 of relaxation from his state affairs or
 warlike undertakings4 ,one would think1
 on the triumphant return from a        
glorious campaign1 this might have been 
accomplished with more refinement than  

by the representation of the disgusting 
state of an imaginary invalid4 ,but     
,louis ,,xiv4 was not so fastidious2 he 
was very well content with the buffoon  
whom he protected1 and even occasionally
 exhibited his own elevated person in   
the dances of his ballets4 ,this        
external position of ,molire was the    
cause why many of his labours had their 
origin as mere occasional pieces in the 
commands of the court4 ,and1            
accordingly1 they bear the stamp of that
 origin4 ,without travelling out of     
,france1 he had opportunities of        
becoming acquainted with the lazzis of  
the ,italian comic masks on the ,italian
 theatre at ,paris1 where improvisatory 
dialogues were intermixed with scenes   
written in ,french3 in the ,spanish     
comedies he studied the ingenious       
complications of intrigue3 ,plautus and 
,terence taught him the salt of the     
,attic wit1 the genuine tone of comic   
maxims1 and the nicer shades of         
character4 ,all this he employed1 with  

more or less success1 in the exigency of
 the moment1 and also in order to deck  
out his drama in a sprightly and        
variegated dress1 made use of all manner
 of means1 however foreign to his art3  
such as the allegorical opening scenes  
of the opera prologues1 musical         
intermezzos1 in which he even introduced
 ,italian and ,spanish national music1  
with texts in their own language2       
ballets1 at one time sumptuous and at   
another grotesque2 and even sometimes   
mere vaulting and capering4 ,he knew how
 to turn everything to profit3 the      
censure passed upon his pieces1 the     
defects of rival actors imitated to the 
life by himself and his company1 and    
even the embarrassment in not being able
 to produce a theatrical entertainment  
as quickly as it was required by the    
king1--all became for him a matter for  
amusement4 ,the pieces he borrowed from 
the ,spanish1 his pastorals and         
tragi-comedies1 calculated merely to    
please the eye1 and also three or four  

of his earlier comedies1 which are even 
versified1 and consequently carefully   
laboured1 the critics give up without   
more ado4 ,but even in the farces1 with 
or without ballets1 and intermezzos1 in 
which the overcharged1 and frequently   
the self-conscious and arbitrary comic  
of buffoonery prevails1 ,molire has     
exhibited an inexhaustible store of     
excellent humour1 scattered capital     
jokes with a lavish hand1 and drawn the 
most amusing caricatures with a bold and
 vigorous pencil4 ,all this1 however1   
had been often done before his time2 and
 ,i cannot see how1 in this department1 
he can stand alone1 as a creative and   
altogether original artist3 for example1
 is ,plautus' braggadocio soldier less  
meritorious in grotesque                
characterization than the ,bourgeois    
,gentilhomme8 ,we shall immediately     
examine briefly whether ,molire has     
actually improved the pieces which he   
borrowed1 in whole or in part1 from     
,plautus and ,terence4 ,when we bear in 

mind that in these ,latin authors we    
have only a faint and faded copy of the 
new ,attic ,comedy1 we shall then be    
enabled to judge whether he would have  
been able to surpass its masters had    
they come down to us4 ,many of his      
shifts and inventions1 ,i am induced to 
suspect1 are borrowed2 and ,i am        
convinced that we should soon discover  
the sources1 were we to search into the 
antiquities of farcical literature      
,footnote3 ,the learned ,tiranoschi     
7,storia della ,letteratura ,italiana1  
,lib4 ,,iii4  #be7 attests this in very 
strong language3 ,molire1 says he1 has  
made so much use of the ,italian comic  
writers1 that were we to take from him  
all that he has taken from others1 the  
volumes of his comedies would be very   
much reduced in bulk44 ,others are so   
obvious1 and have so often been both    
used and abused1 that they may in some  
measure be considered as the common     
stock of ,comedy4 ,such is the scene in 
the ,malade ,imaginaire1 where the      

wife's love is put to the test by the   
supposed death of the husband--an old   
joke1 which our ,hans ,sachs has handled
 drolly enough4 ,footnote3 ,i know not  
whether it has been already remarked1   
that the idea on which the ,mariage     
,forc is founded is borrowed from       
,rabelais2 who makes ,panurge enter upon
 the very same consultation as to his   
future marriage1 and receive from       
,pantagruel just such a sceptical answer
 as ,sganarelle does from the second    
philosopher4 ,we have an avowal of      
,molire's1 which plainly shows he       
entertained no very great scruples of   
conscience on the sin of plagiarism4 ,in
 the undignified relations amidst which 
he lived1 and in which every thing was  
so much calculated for dazzling show1   
that his very name did not legally      
belong to him1 we see less reason to    
wonder at all this4  ,and even when in  
his farcical pieces ,molire did not lean
 on foreign invention1 he still         
appropriated the comic manners of other 

countries1 and more particularly the    
buffoonery of ,italy4 ,he wished to     
introduce a sort of masked character    
without masks1 who should constantly    
recur with the same name4 ,they did not1
 however1 succeed in becoming properly  
domiciliated in ,france2 because the    
flexible national character of the      
,french1 which so nimbly imitates every 
varying mode of the day1 is incompatible
 with that odd originality of exterior  
to which in other nations1 where all are
 not modelled alike by the prevailing   
social tone1 humorsome and singular     
individuals carelessly give themselves  
up4 ,as the ,sganarelles1 ,mascarilles1 
,scapins1 and ,crispins1 must be allowed
 to retain their uniform1 that every    
thing like consistency may not be lost1 
they have become completely obsolete on 
the stage4 ,the ,french taste is1       
generally speaking1 little inclined to  
the self-conscious and arbitrary comic1 
with its droll exaggerations1 even      
because these kinds of the comic speak  

more to the fancy than the              
understanding4 ,we do not mean to       
censure this1 nor to quarrel about the  
respective merits of the different      
species4 ,the low estimation in which   
the former are held may perhaps         
contribute the more to the success of   
the comic of observation1 ,and1 in fact1
 the ,french comic writers have here    
displayed a great deal of refinement and
 ingenuity3 in this lies the great merit
 of ,molire1 and it is certainly very   
eminent4 ,only1 we would ask1 whether it
 is of such a description as to justify 
the ,french critics1 on account of some 
half a dozen of so- called regular      
comedies of ,molire1 in holding in such 
infinite contempt as they do all the    
rich stores of refined and              
characteristic delineation which other  
nations possess1 and in setting up      
,molire as the unrivalled ,genius of    
,comedy4  ,if the praise bestowed by the
 ,french on their tragic writers be1    
both from national vanity and from      

ignorance of the mental productions of  
other nations1 exceedingly extravagant2 
so their praises of ,molire are out of  
all proportion with their subject4      
,voltaire calls him the ,father of      
,genuine ,comedy2 and this may be true  
enough with respect to ,france4         
,according to ,la ,harpe1 ,comedy and   
,molire are synonymous terms2 he is the 
first of all moral philosophers1 his    
works are the school of the world4      
,chamfort terms him the most amiable    
teacher of humanity since ,socrates2 and
 is of opinion that ,julius ,caesar who 
called ,terence a half ,menander1 would 
have called ,menander a half            
,molire4--,i doubt this4  ,the kind of  
moral which we may in general expect    
from ,comedy ,i have already shown3 it  
is an applied doctrine of ethics1 the   
art of life4 ,in this respect the higher
 comedies of ,molire contain many       
admirable observations happily          
expressed1 which are still in the       
present day applicable2 others are      

tainted with the narrowness of his own  
private opinions1 or of the opinions    
which were prevalent in his age4 ,in    
this sense ,menander was also a         
philosophical comic writer2 and we may  
boldly place the moral maxims which     
remain of his by the side at least of   
those of ,molire4 ,but no comedy is     
constructed of mere apophthegms4 ,the   
poet must be a moralist1 but his        
personages cannot always be moralizing4 
,and here ,molire appears to me to have 
exceeded the bounds of propriety3 he    
gives us in lengthened disquisitions the
 pro and con of the character exhibited 
by him2 nay1 he allows these to consist1
 in part1 of principles which the       
persons themselves defend against the   
attacks of others4 ,now this leaves     
nothing to conjecture2 and yet the      
highest refinement and delicacy of the  
comic of observation consists in this1  
that the characters disclose themselves 
unconsciously by traits which           
involuntarily escape from them4 ,to this

 species of comic element1 the way in   
which ,oronte introduces his sonnet1    
,orgon listens to the accounts          
respecting ,tartuffe and his wife1 and  
,vadius and ,trissotin fall by the ears1
 undoubtedly belongs2 but the endless   
disquisitions of ,alceste and ,philinte 
as to the manner in which we ought to   
behave amid the falsity and corruption  
of the world do not in the slightest    
respect belong to it4 ,they are serious1
 and yet they cannot satisfy us as      
exhausting the subject2 and as dialogues
 which at the end leave the characters  
precisely at the same point as at the   
beginning1 they are devoid in the       
necessary dramatic movement4 ,such      
argumentative disquisitions which lead  
to nothing are frequent in all the most 
admired pieces of ,molire1 and nowhere  
more than in the ,misanthrope4 ,hence   
the action1 which is also poorly        
invented1 is found to drag heavily2 for1
 with the exception of a few scenes of a
 more sprightly description1 it consists

 altogether of discourses formally      
introduced and supported1 while the     
stagnation is only partially concealed  
by the art employed on the details of   
versification and expression4 ,in a     
word1 these pieces are too didactic1 too
 expressly instructive2 whereas in      
,comedy the spectator should only be    
instructed incidentally1 and1 as it     
were1 without its appearing to have been
 intended4  ,before we proceed to       
consider more particularly the          
productions which properly belong to the
 poet himself1 and are acknowledged as  
master- pieces1 we shall offer a few    
observations on his imitations of the   
,latin comic writers4  ,the most        
celebrated is the ,avare4 ,the          
manuscripts of the ,aulularia of        
,plautus are unfortunately mutilated    
towards the end2 but yet we find enough 
in them to excite our admiration4 ,from 
this play ,molire has merely borrowed a 
few scenes and jokes1 for his plot is   
altogether different4 ,in ,plautus it is

 extremely simple3 his ,miser has found 
a treasure1 which he anxiously watches  
and conceals4 ,the suit of a rich       
bachelor for his daughter excites a     
suspicion that his wealth is known4 ,the
 preparations for the wedding bring     
strange servants and cooks into his     
house2 he considers his pot of gold no  
longer secure1 and conceals it out of   
doors1 which gives an opportunity to a  
slave of his daughter's chosen lover1   
sent to glean tidings of her and her    
marriage1 to steal it4 ,without doubt   
the thief must afterwards have been     
obliged to make restitution1 otherwise  
the piece would end in too melancholy a 
manner1 with the lamentations and       
imprecations of the old man4 ,the knot  
of the love intrigue is easily untied3  
the young man1 who had anticipated the  
rights of the marriage state1 is the    
nephew of the bridegroom1 who willingly 
renounces in his favour4 ,all the       
incidents serve merely to lead the      
miser1 by a gradually heightening series

 of agitations and alarms1 to display   
and expose his miserable passion4       
,molire1 on the other hand1 without     
attaining this object1 puts a           
complicated machine in motion4 ,here we 
have a lover of the daughter1 who1      
disguised as a servant1 flatters the    
avarice of the old man2 a prodigal son1 
who courts the bride of his father2     
intriguing servants2 an usurer2 and     
after all a discovery at the end4 ,the  
love intrigue is spun out in a very     
clumsy and every-day sort of manner2 and
 it has the effect of making us at      
different times lose sight altogether of
 ,harpagon4 ,several scenes of a good   
comic description are merely            
subordinate1 and do not1 in a true      
artistic method1 arise necessarily out  
of the thing itself4 ,molire has        
accumulated1 as it were1 all kinds of   
avarice in one person2 and yet the miser
 who buries his treasures and he who    
lends on usury can hardly be the same4  
,harpagon starves his coach- horses3 but

 why has he any8 ,this would apply      
better to a man who1 with a             
disproportionate income1 strives to keep
 up a certain appearance of rank4 ,comic
 characterization would soon be at an   
end were there really only one universal
 character of the miser4 ,the most      
important deviation of ,molire from     
,plautus is1 that while the one paints  
merely a person who watches over his    
treasure1 the other makes his miser in  
love4 ,the love of an old man is in     
itself an object of ridicule2 the       
anxiety of a miser is no less so4 ,we   
may easily see that when we unite with  
avarice1 which separates a man from     
others and withdraws him within himself1
 the sympathetic and liberal passion of 
love1 the union must give rise to the   
most harsh contrasts4 ,avarice1 however1
 is usually a very good preservative    
against falling in love4 ,where then is 
the more refined characterization2 and  
as such a wonderful noise is made about 
it1 where shall we here find the more   

valuable moral instruction8--in ,plautus
 or in ,molire8 ,a miser and a          
superannuated lover may both be present 
at the representation of ,harpagon1 and 
both return from the theatre satisfied  
with themselves1 while the miser says to
 himself1 ,i am at least not in love2   
and the lover1 ,well1 at all events ,i  
am not a miser4 ,high ,comedy represents
 those follies which1 however striking  
they may be1 are reconcilable with the  
ordinary course of things2 whatever     
forms a singular exception1 and is only 
conceivable amid an utter perversion of 
ideas1 belongs to the arbitrary         
exaggeration of farce4 ,hence since 7and
 it was undoubtedly the case long       
before7 the time of ,molire1 the        
enamoured and avaricious old man has    
been the peculiar common-place of the   
,italian masked comedy and opera buffa1 
to which in truth it certainly belongs4 
,molire has treated the main incident1  
the theft of the chest of gold1 with an 
uncommon want of skill4 ,at the very    

beginning ,harpagon1 in a scene borrowed
 from ,plautus1 is fidgetty with        
suspicions lest a slave should have     
discovered his treasure4 ,after this he 
forgets it2 for four whole acts there is
 not a word about it1 and the spectator 
drops1 as it were1 from the clouds when 
the servant all at once brings in the   
stolen coffer2 for we have no           
information as to the way in which he   
fell upon the treasure which had been so
 carefully concealed4 ,now this is      
really to begin again1 not truly to work
 out4 ,but ,plautus has here shown a    
great deal of ingenuity3 the excessive  
anxiety of the old man for his pot of   
gold1 and all that he does to save it1  
are the very cause of its loss4 ,the    
subterraneous treasure is always        
invisibly present2 it is1 as it were1   
the evil spirit which drives its keeper 
to madness4 ,in all this we have1 an    
impressive moral of a very different    
kind4 ,in ,harpagon's soliloquy1 after  
the theft1 the modern poet has          

introduced the most incredible          
exaggerations4 ,the calling on the pit  
to discover the theft1 which1 when well 
acted1 produces so great an effect1 is a
 trait of the old comedy of             
,aristophanes1 and may serve to give us 
some idea of its powers of              
entertainment4  ,the ,amphitryon is     
hardly anything more than a free        
imitation of the ,latin original4 ,the  
whole plan and order of the scenes is   
retained4 ,the waiting-woman1 or wife of
 ,sosia1 is the invention of ,molire4   
,the parody of the story of the master's
 marriage in that of the servant is     
ingenious1 and gives rise to the most   
amusing investigations on the part of   
,sosia to find out whether1 during his  
absence a domestic blessing may not have
 also been conferred on him as well as  
on ,amphitryon4 ,the revolting          
coarseness of the old mythological story
 is refined as much as it possibly could
 without injury to its spirit and       
boldness2 and in general the execution  

is extremely elegant4 ,the uncertainty  
of the personages respecting their own  
identity and duplication is founded on a
 sort of comic metaphysics3 ,sosia's    
reflections on his two egos1 which have 
cudgelled each other1 may in reality    
furnish materials for thinking to our   
philosophers of the present day4  ,the  
most unsuccessful of ,molire's          
imitations of the ancients is that of   
the ,phormio in the ,fourberies de      
,scapin4 ,the whole plot is borrowed    
from ,terence1 and1 by the addition of a
 second invention1 been adapted1 well or
 ill1 or rather tortured1 to a          
consistency with modern manners4 ,the   
poet has indeed gone very hurriedly to  
work with his plot1 which he has most   
negligently patched together4 ,the      
tricks of ,scapin1 for the sake of which
 he has spoiled the plot1 occupy the    
foremost place3 but we may well ask     
whether they deserve it8 ,the ,grecian  
,phormio1 a man who1 for the sake of    
feasting with young companions1 lends   

himself to all sorts of hazardous       
tricks1 is an interesting and modest    
knave2 ,scapin directly the reverse4 ,he
 had no cause to boast so much of his   
tricks3 they are so stupidly planned    
that in justice they ought not to have  
succeeded4 ,even supposing the two old  
men to be obtuse and brainless in the   
extreme1 we can hardly conceive how they
 could so easily fall into such a clumsy
 and obvious snare as he lays for them4 
,it is also disgustingly improbable that
 ,zerbinette1 who as a gipsy ought to   
have known how to conceal knavish       
tricks1 should run out into the street  
and tell the first stranger that she    
meets1 who happens to be none other than
 ,geronte himself1 the deceit practised 
upon him by ,scapin4 ,the farce of the  
sack into which ,scapin makes ,geronte  
to crawl1 then bears him off1 and       
cudgels him as if by the hand of        
strangers1 is altogether a most         
inappropriate excrescence4 ,boileau was 
therefore well warranted in reproaching 

,molire with having shamelessly allied  
,terence to ,taburin1 7the merry-andrew 
of a mountebank74 ,in reality1 ,molire  
has here for once borrowed1 not1 as he  
frequently did1 from the ,italian masks1
 but from the ,pagliasses of the        
rope-dancers and vaulters4  ,we must not
 forget that the ,rogueries of ,scapin  
is one of the latest works of the poet4 
,this and several others of the same    
period1 as ,monsieur de ,pourceaugnac1  
,la ,comtesse d',escarbagnas1 and even  
his last1 the ,malade ,imaginaire1      
sufficiently prove that the maturity of 
his mind as an artist did not keep pace 
with the progress of years1 otherwise he
 would have been disgusted with such    
loose productions4 ,they serve1         
moreover1 to show that frequently he    
brought forth pieces with great levity  
and haste1 even when he had full leisure
 to think of posterity4 ,if he          
occasionally subjected himself to       
stricter rules1 we owe it more to his   
ambition1 and his desire to be numbered 

among the classical writers of the      
golden age1 than to any internal and    
growing aspiration after the highest    
excellence4  ,the high claims already   
mentioned1 which the ,french critics    
make in behalf of their favourite1 are  
principally founded on the cole des     
,femmes1 ,tartuffe1 ,le ,misanthrope1   
and ,les ,femmes ,savantes2 pieces which
 are certainly finished with great care 
and diligence4 ,now1 of these1 we must  
expressly state in the outset1 that we  
leave the separate beauties of language 
and versification altogether to the     
decision of native critics4 ,these      
merits can only be subordinate          
requisites2 and the undue stress which  
is laid in ,france on the manner in     
which a piece is written and versified  
has1 in our opinion1 been both in       
,tragedy and ,comedy injurious to the   
development of other and more essential 
requisites of the dramatic art4 ,we     
shall confine our exceptions to the     
general spirit and plan of these        

comedies4  ,l'cole des ,femmes1 the     
earliest of them1 seems to me also the  
most excellent2 it is the one in which  
there is the greatest display of        
vivacious humour1 rapidity1 and comic   
vigour4 ,as to the invention3 a man     
arrived at an age unsuitable for        
wedlock1 purposely educating a young    
girl in ignorance and simplicity1 that  
he may keep her faithful to himself1    
while everything turns out the very     
reverse of his wishes1 was not a new    
one3 a short while before ,molire it had
 been employed by ,scarron1 who borrowed
 it from a ,spanish novel4 ,still1 it   
was a lucky thought in him to adapt this
 subject to the stage1 and the execution
 of it is most masterly4 ,here we have a
 real and very interesting plot2 no     
creeping investigations which do not    
carry forward the plot2 all the matter  
is of one piece1 without foreign levers 
and accidental intermixtures1 with the  
exception of the catastrophe1 which is  
brought about somewhat arbitrarily1 by  

means of a scene of recognition4 ,the   
nave confessions and innocent devices of
 ,agnes are full of sweetness2 they1    
together with the unguarded confidence  
reposed by the young lover in his       
unknown rival1 and the stifled rage of  
the old man against both1 form a series 
of comic scenes of the most amusing1 and
 at the same time of the most refined   
description4  ,as an example how little 
the violation of certain probabilities  
diminishes our pleasure1 we may remark  
that ,molire1 with respect to the choice
 of scene1 has here indulged in very    
great liberties4 ,we will not inquire   
how ,arnolph frequently happens to      
converse with ,agnes in the street or in
 an open place1 while he keeps her at   
the same time so carefully locked up4   
,but if ,horace does not know ,arnolph  
to be the intended husband of his       
mistress1 and betrays everything to him1
 this can only be allowable from        
,arnolph's passing with her by another  
name4 ,horace ought therefore to look   

for ,arnolph in his own house in a      
remote quarter1 and not before the door 
of his mistress1 where yet he always    
finds him1 without entertaining any     
suspicion from that circumstance4 ,why  
do the ,french critics set such a high  
value on similar probabilities in the   
dramatic art1 when they must be         
compelled to admit that their best      
masters have not always observed them8  
,tartuffe is an exact picture of        
hypocritical piety held up for universal
 warning2 it is an excellent serious    
satire1 but with the exception of       
separate scenes it is not a comedy4 ,it 
is generally admitted that the          
catastrophe is bad1 as it is brought    
about by a foreign means4 ,it is bad1   
too1 because the danger which ,orgon    
runs of being driven from his house and 
thrown into prison is by no means such  
an embarrassment as his blind confidence
 actually merited4 ,here the serious    
purpose of the work is openly disclosed1
 and the eulogium of the king is a      

dedication by which the poet1 even in   
the piece itself1 humbly recommends     
himself to the protection of his majesty
 against the persecutions which he      
dreaded4  ,in the ,femmes ,savantes     
raillery has also the upper hand of     
mirth2 the action is insignificant and  
not in the least degree attractive2 and 
the catastrophe1 after the manner of    
,molire1 is arbitrarily brought about by
 foreign means4 ,yet these technical    
imperfections might well be excused for 
the sake of its satirical merit4 ,but in
 this respect the composition1 from the 
limited nature of its views1 is anything
 but equal throughout4 ,we are not to   
expect from the comic poet that he      
should always give us1 along with the   
exhibition of a folly1 a representation 
also of the opposite way of wisdom2 in  
this way he would announce his object of
 instructing us with too much of method4
 ,but two opposite follies admit of     
being exhibited together in an equally  
ludicrous light4 ,molire has here       

ridiculed the affectation of a false    
taste1 and the vain-gloriousness of     
empty knowledge4 ,proud in their own    
ignorance and contempt for all higher   
enlightenment1 these characters         
certainly deserve the ridicule bestowed 
on them2 but that which in this comedy  
is portrayed as the correct way of      
wisdom falls nearly into the same error4
 ,all the reasonable persons of the     
piece1 the father and his brother1 the  
lover and the daughter1 nay1 even the   
ungrammatical maid1 are all proud of    
what they are not1 have not1 and know   
not1 and even what they do not seek to  
be1 to have1 or to know4 ,chyrsale's    
limited view of the destination of the  
female sex1 ,clitander's opinion on the 
inutility of learning1 and the          
sentiments elsewhere advanced respecting
 the measure of cultivation and         
knowledge which is suitable to a man of 
rank1 were all intended to convey       
,molire's own opinions himself on these 
subjects4 ,we may here trace in him a   

certain vein of valet-de-chambre        
morality1 which also makes its          
appearance on many other points4 ,we can
 easily conceive how his education and  
situation should lead him to entertain  
such ideas2 but they are hardly such as 
entitle him to read lectures on human   
society4 ,that1 at the end1 ,trissotin  
should be ignominiously made to commit  
an act of low selfishness is odious2 for
 we know that a learned man then alive  
was satirized under this character1 and 
that his name was very slightly         
disguised4 ,the vanity of an author is1 
on the whole1 a preservative against    
this weakness3 there are many more      
lucrative careers than that of          
authorship for selfishness without a    
feeling of honour4  ,the ,misanthrope1  
which1 as is well known1 was at first   
coldly received1 is still less amusing  
than the two preceding pieces3 the      
action is less rapid1 or rather there is
 none at all2 and there is a great want 
of coherence between the meagre         

incidents which give only an apparent   
life to the dramatic movement1--the     
quarrel with ,oronte respecting the     
sonnet1 and its adjustment2 the decision
 of the law-suit which is ever being    
brought forward2 the unmasking of       
,celimene through the vanity of the two 
,marquisses1 and the jealousy of        
,arsine4 ,besides all this1 the general 
plot is not even probable4 ,it is framed
 with a view to exhibit the thorough    
delineation of a character2 but a       
character discloses itself much more in 
its relations with others than          
immediately4 ,how comes ,alceste to have
 chosen ,philinte for a friend1 a man   
whose principles were directly the      
reverse of his own8 ,how comes he also  
to be enamoured of a coquette1 who has  
nothing amiable in her character1 and   
who entertains us merely by her scandal8
 ,we might well say of this ,celimene1  
without exaggeration1 that there is not 
one good point in her whole composition4
 ,in a character like that of ,alceste1 

love is not a fleeting sensual impulse1 
but a serious feeling arising from a    
want of a sincere mental union4 ,his    
dislike of flattering falsehood and     
malicious scandal1 which always         
characterise the conversation of        
,celimene1 breaks forth so incessantly1 
that1 we feel1 the first moment he heard
 her open her lips ought to have driven 
him for ever from her society4 ,finally1
 the subject is ambiguous1 and that is  
its greatest fault4 ,the limits within  
which ,alceste is in the right and      
beyond which he is in the wrong1 it     
would be no easy matter to fix1 and ,i  
am afraid the poet himself did not here 
see very clearly what he would be at4   
,philinte1 however1 with his illusory   
justification of the way of the world1  
and his phlegmatic resignation1 he      
paints throughout as the intelligent and
 amiable man4 ,as against the elegant   
,celimene1 ,alceste is most decidedly in
 the right1 and only in the wrong in the
 inconceivable weakness of his conduct  

towards her4 ,he is in the right in his 
complaints of the corruption of the     
social constitution2 the facts1 at      
least1 which he adduces1 are disputed by
 nobody4 ,he is in the wrong1 however1  
in delivering his sentiments with so    
much violence1 and at an unseasonable   
time2 but as he cannot prevail on       
himself to assume the dissimulation     
which is necessary to be well received  
in the world1 he is perfectly in the    
right in preferring solitude to society4
 ,rousseau has already censured the     
ambiguity of the piece1 by which what is
 deserving of approbation seems to be   
turned into ridicule4 ,his opinion was  
not altogether unprejudiced2 for his own
 character1 and his behaviour towards   
the world1 had a striking similarity to 
that of ,alceste2 and1 moreover1 he     
mistakes the essence of dramatic        
composition1 and founds his condemnation
 on examples of an accidentally false   
direction4  ,so far with respect to the 
famed moral philosophy of ,molire in his

 pretended master-piece4 ,from what has 
been stated1 ,i consider myself         
warranted to assert1 in opposition to   
the prevailing opinion1 that ,molire    
succeeded best with the coarse and      
homely comic1 and that both his talents 
and his inclination1 if unforced1 would 
have determined him altogether to the   
composition of farces such as he        
continued to write even to the very end 
of his life4 ,he seems always to have   
whipped himself up as it were to his    
more serious pieces in verse3 we        
discover something of constraint in both
 plot and execution4 ,his friend        
,boileau probably communicated to him   
his view of a correct mirth1 of a grave 
and decorous laughter2 and so ,molire   
determined1 after the carnival of his   
farces1 to accommodate himself          
occasionally to the spare diet of the   
regular taste1 and to unite what in     
their own nature are irreconcileable1   
namely1 dignity and drollery4 ,however1 
we find even in his prosaic pieces      

traces of that didactical and satirical 
vein which is peculiarly alien to       
,comedy2 for example1 in his constant   
attacks on physicians and lawyers1 in   
his disquisitions upon the true correct 
tone of society1 c41 the intention of   
which is actually to censure1 to refute1
 to instruct1 and not merely to afford  
entertainment4  ,the classical          
reputation of ,molire still preserves   
his pieces on the stage1 ,footnote3 ,if 
they were not already in possession of  
the stage1 the indecency of a number of 
the scenes would cause many of them to  
be rejected1 as the public of the       
present day1 though probably not less   
corrupt than that of the author's times1
 is passionately fond of throwing over  
every thing a cloak of morality4 ,when a
 piece of ,molire is acted1 the head    
theatre of ,paris is generally a        
downright solitude1 if no particular    
circumstance brings the spectators      
together4 ,since these ,lectures were   
held1 ,george ,dandin has been hissed at

 ,paris1 to the great grief of the      
watchmen of the critical ,sion4 ,this   
was probably not on account of mere     
indecency4 ,whatever may be said in     
defence of the morality of the piece1   
the privileges of the higher classes are
 offensively favoured in it2 and it     
concludes with the shameless triumph of 
arrogance and depravity over plain      
honesty4 although in tone and manners   
they are altogether obsolete4 ,this is a
 danger to which the comic poet is      
inevitably exposed from that side of his
 composition which does not rest on a   
poetical foundation1 but is determined  
by the prose of external reality4 ,the  
originals of the individual portraits of
 ,molire have long since disappeared4   
,the comic poet who lays claim to       
immortality must1 in the delineation of 
character and the disposition of his    
plan1 rest principally on such motives  
as are always intelligible1 being taken 
not from the manners of any particular  
age1 but drawn from human nature itself4

  ,in addition to ,molire we have to    
notice but a few older or contemporary  
comedians4 ,of ,corneille1 who from the 
imitation of ,spanish comedies acquired 
a name before he was known as a tragic  
author1 only one piece keeps possession 
of the stage1 ,le ,menteur1 from ,lope  
de ,vega2 and even this evinces1 in our 
opinion1 no comic talent4 ,the poet1    
accustomed to stilts1 moves awkwardly in
 a species of the drama the first       
requisites of which are ease and        
sweetness4 ,scarron1 who only understood
 burlesque1 has displayed this talent or
 knack in several comedies taken from   
the ,spanish1 of which two1 ,jodelle1 or
 the ,servant turned ,master1 and ,don  
,japhet of ,armenia1 have till within   
these few years been occasionally acted 
as carnival farces1 and have always been
 very successful4 ,the plot of the      
,jodelle1 which belongs to ,don         
,francisco de ,roxas1 is excellent2 the 
style and the additions of ,scarron have
 not been able altogether to disfigure  

it4 ,all that is coarse1 nauseous1 and  
repugnant to taste1 belongs to the      
,french writer of the age of ,louis     
,,xiv41 who in his day was not without  
celebrity2 for the ,spanish work is     
throughout characterized by a spirit of 
tenderness4 ,the burlesque tone1 which  
in many languages may be tolerated1 has 
been properly rejected by the ,french1  
for whenever it is not guided by        
judgment and taste1 it sinks to         
disgusting vulgarity4 ,don ,japhet      
represents in a still ruder manner the  
mystification of a coarse fool4 ,the    
original belongs to the kind which the  
,spaniards call ,comedias de ,figuron3  
it also has undoubtedly been spoiled by 
,scarron1 ,the worst of the matter is1  
that his exaggerations are trifling     
without being amusing4  ,racine hit upon
 a very different plan of imitation from
 that which was then followed1 in his   
,plaideurs1 of which the idea is derived
 from ,aristophanes4 ,the piece in this 
respect stands alone4 ,the action is    

merely a light piece of legerdemain2 but
 the follies which it portrays belong to
 a circle1 and1 with the imitations of  
the officers of court and advocates1    
form a complete whole4 ,many lines are  
at once witty sallies and characteristic
 traits2 and some of the jokes have that
 apparently aimless drollery1 which     
genuine comic inspiration can alone     
inspire4 ,racine would have become a    
dangerous rival of ,molire1 if he had   
continued to exercise the talent which  
he has here displayed4  ,some of the    
comedies of a younger contemporary and  
rival of ,molire1 ,boursault1 have still
 kept possession of the stage2 they are 
all of the secondary description1 which 
the ,french call pices  tiroir1 and of  
which ,molire gave the first example in 
,le ,fcheux4 ,this kind1 from the       
accidental succession of the scenes1    
which are strung together on some one   
common occasion1 bear in so far a       
resemblance to the ,mimes of the        
ancients2 they are intended also to     

resemble them in the accurate imitation 
of individual peculiarities4 ,these     
subjects are particularly favourable for
 the display of the ,mimic art in the   
more limited signification of the word1 
as the same player always appears in a  
different disguise1 and assumes a new   
character4 ,it is advisable not to      
extend such pieces beyond a single act1 
as the want of dramatic movement1 and   
the uniformity of the occasion through  
all the different changes1 are very apt 
to excite impatience4 ,but ,boursault's 
pieces1 which otherwise are not without 
merit1 are tediously spun out to five   
acts4 ,the idea of exhibiting ,aesop1 a 
slave-born sage1 and deformed in person1
 in possession of court favour1 was     
original and happy4 ,but in the two     
pieces1 ,aesop in the ,city1 and ,aesop 
at ,court1 the fables which are tacked  
to every important scene are drowned in 
diffuse morals2 besides1 they are quite 
distinct from the dialogue1 instead of  
being interwoven with it1 like the fable

 of ,menenius ,agrippa in ,shakespeare2 
and modern manners do not suit with this
 childish mode of instruction4 ,in the  
,mercure ,galant all sorts of           
out-of-the-way beings bring their       
petitions to the writer of a weekly     
paper4 ,this thought and many of the    
most entertaining details have1 if ,i am
 not mistaken1 been borrowed by a       
popular ,german author without          
acknowledgment4  ,a considerable time   
elapsed after the death of ,molire      
before the appearance of ,regnard1 to   
whom in ,france the second place in     
,comedy is usually assigned4 ,he was a  
sort of adventurer who1 after roaming a 
long time up and down the world1 fell to
 the trade of a dramatic writer1 and    
divided himself betwixt the composition 
of regular comedies in verse1 and the   
,italian theatre1 which still continued 
to flourish under ,gherardi1 and for    
which he sketched the ,french scenes4   
,the ,joueur1 his first play1 is justly 
preferred to the others4 ,the author was

 acquainted with this passion1 and a    
gamester's life1 from his own           
experience3 it is a picture after       
nature1 with features strongly drawn1   
but without exaggeration2 and the plot  
and accessory circumstances1 with the   
exception of a pair of caricatures which
 might well have been dispensed with1   
are all appropriate and in character4   
,the ,distrait possesses not only the   
faults of the methodical pieces of      
character which ,i have already         
censured1 but it is not even a peculiar 
character at all2 the mistakes          
occasioned by the unfortunate habit of  
being absent in thought are all alike1  
and admit of no heightening3 they might 
therefore have filled up an after-piece1
 but1 certainly did not merit the       
distinction of being spun out into a    
comedy of five acts4 ,regnard has done  
little more than dramatize a series of  
anecdotes which ,la ,bruyre had         
assembled together under the name of a  
certain character4 ,the execution of the

 ,lgataire ,universel shows more comic  
talent2 but from the error of the       
general plan1 arising out of a want of  
moral feeling1 this talent is completely
 thrown away4 ,la ,harpe declares this  
piece the chef-d'oeuvre of comic        
pleasantry4 ,it is1 in fact1 such a     
subject for pleasantry as would move a  
stone to pity1--as enlivening as the    
grin of a death's head4 ,what a subject 
for mirth3 a feeble old man in the very 
arms of death1 teased by young          
profligates for his property1 has a     
false will imposed on him while he is   
lying insensible1 as is believed1 on his
 death-bed6 ,if it be true that these   
scenes have always given rise to much   
laughter on the ,french stage1 it only  
proves the spectators to possess the    
same unfeeling levity which disgusts us 
in the author4 ,we have elsewhere shown 
that1 with an apparent indifference1 a  
moral reserve is essential to the comic 
poet1 since the impressions which he    
would wish to produce are inevitably    

destroyed whenever disgust or compassion
 is excited4  ,legrand the actor1 a     
contemporary of ,regnard1 was one of the
 first comic poets who gained celebrity 
for after-pieces in verse1 a species of 
composition in which the ,french have   
since produced a number of elegant      
trifles4 ,he has not1 however1 risen to 
any thing like the same height of       
posthumous fame as ,regnard3 ,la ,harpe 
dismisses him with very little ceremony4
 ,yet we should be disposed to rank him 
very high as an artist1 even if he had  
composed nothing else than the ,king of 
,lubberland 7,le ,roi de ,cocagne71 a   
sprightly farce in the marvellous style1
 overflowing with what is very rare in  
,france1 a native fanciful wit1 animated
 by the most lively mirth1 which        
although carried the length of the most 
frolicsome giddiness1 sports on and     
round all subjects with the utmost      
harmlessness4 ,we might call it an      
elegant and ingenious piece of madness2 
an example of the manner in which the   

play of ,aristophanes1 or rather that of
 ,eupolis1 ,footnote3 ,see page #afg4   
who had also dramatised the tale of     
,lubberland1 might be brought on our    
stage without exciting disgust1 and     
without personal satire4 ,and yet       
,legrand was1 certainly1 unacquainted   
with the ,old ,comedy1 and his own      
genius 7we scruple not to use the       
expression7 led him to the invention4   
,the execution is as careful as in a    
regular comedy2 but to this title in the
 ,french opinion it can have no         
pretensions1 because of the wonderful   
world which it represents1 of several of
 the decorations1 and of the music here 
and there introduced4 ,the ,french      
critics show themselves in general      
indifferent1 or rather unjust towards   
every suggestion of genuine fancy4      
,before they can feel respect for a work
 it must present a certain appearance of
 labour and effort4 ,among a giddy and  
light-minded people1 they have          
appropriated to themselves the post of  

honour of pedantry3 they confound the   
levity of jocularity1 which is quite    
compatible with profundity in art1 with 
the levity of shallowness1 which 7as a  
natural gift or natural defect17 is so  
frequent among their countrymen4  ,the  
eighteenth century produced in ,france a
 number of comic writers of the second  
and third rank1 but no distinguished    
genius capable of advancing the art a   
step farther2 in consequence of which   
the belief in ,molire's unapproachable  
excellence has become still more firmly 
riveted4 ,as we have not space at       
present to go through all these separate
 productions1 we shall premise a few    
observations on the general spirit of   
,french ,comedy before entering on the  
consideration of the writers whom we    
have not yet mentioned4  ,the want of   
easy progress1 and over-lengthy         
disquisitions in stationary dialogue1   
have characterized more or less every   
writer since the time of ,molire1 on    
whose regular pieces also the           

conventional rules applicable to        
,tragedy have had an indisputable       
influence4 ,french ,comedy in verse has 
its tirades as well as ,tragedy4        
,besides1 there was another             
circumstance1 the introduction of a     
certain degree of stiff etiquette4 ,the 
,comedy of other nations has generally1 
from motives which we can be at no loss 
in understanding1 descended into the    
circle of the lower classes3 but the    
,french ,comedy is usually confined to  
the upper ranks of society4 ,here1 then1
 we trace the influence of the court as 
the central point of the whole national 
vanity4 ,those spectators who in reality
 had no access to the great world1 were 
flattered by being surrounded on the    
stage with marquises and chevaliers1 and
 while the poet satirized the           
fashionable follies1 they endeavoured to
 snatch something of that privileged    
tone which was so much the object of    
envy4 ,society rubs off the salient     
angles of character2 its only amusement 

consists in the pursuit of the          
ridiculous1 and on the other hand it    
trains us in the faculty of being upon  
our guard against the observations of   
others4 ,the natural1 cordial1 and      
jovial comic of the inferior classes is 
thrown aside1 and instead of it another 
description 7the fruit of polished      
society1 and bearing in its insipidity  
the stamp of so purposeless a way of    
living7 is adopted4 ,the object of these
 comedies is no longer life but society1
 that perpetual negotiation between     
conflicting vanities which never ends in
 a sincere treaty of peace3 the         
embroidered dress1 the hat under the    
arm1 and the sword by the side1         
essentially belong to them1 and the     
whole of their characterization is      
limited to painting the folly of the men
 and the coquetry of the women4 ,the    
insipid uniformity of these pictures was
 unfortunately too often seasoned by the
 corruption of moral principles which1  
more especially after the age of ,louis 

,,xiv41 it became1 under the ,regency of
 ,louis ,,xv41 the fashion openly to    
avow4 ,in this period the favourite of  
the women1 the homme  bonnes fortunes1  
who in the tone of satiety boasts of the
 multitude of his conquests too easily  
won1 was not a character invented by the
 comic writers1 but a portrait          
accurately taken from real life1 as is  
proved by the numerous memoirs of the   
last century1 even down to those of a   
,besenval4 ,we are disgusted with the   
unveiled sensuality of the love         
intrigues of the ,greek ,comedy3 but the
 ,greeks would have found much more     
disgusting the love intrigues of the    
,french ,comedy1 entered into with      
married women1 merely from giddy vanity4
 ,limits have been fixed by nature      
herself to sensual excess2 but when     
vanity assumes the part of a sensuality 
already deadened and enervated1 it gives
 birth to the most hollow corruption4   
,and even if1 in the constant ridicule  
of marriage by the petit-matres1 and in 

their moral scepticism especially with  
regard to female virtue1 it was the     
intention of the poets to ridicule a    
prevailing depravity1 the picture is not
 on that account the less immoral4 ,the 
great or fashionable world1 which in    
point of numbers is the little world1   
and yet considers itself alone of       
importance1 can hardly be improved by   
it2 and for the other classes the       
example is but too seductive1 from the  
brilliancy with which the characters are
 surrounded4 ,but in so far as ,comedy  
is concerned1 this deadening corruption 
is by no means invariably entertaining2 
and in many pieces1 in which fools of   
quality give the tone1 for example in   
the ,chevalier  la mode de ,dancourt1   
the picture of complete moral           
dissoluteness which1 although true1 is  
nevertheless both unpoetical and        
unnatural1 is productive not merely of  
ennui1 but of the most decided          
repugnance and disgust4  ,from the      
number of writers to whom this charge   

chiefly applies1 we must in justice     
except ,destouches and ,marivaux1       
fruitful or at least diligent comic     
writers1 the former in verse and the    
latter in prose4 ,they acquired         
considerable distinction among their    
contemporaries in the first half of the 
eighteenth century1 but on the stage few
 of their works survived either of them4
 ,destouches was a moderate1 tame1 and  
well-meaning author1 who applied himself
 with all his powers to the composition 
of regular comedies1 which were always  
drawn out to the length of five acts1   
and in which there is nothing laughable1
 with the exception of the vivacity     
displayed in virtue of their situation1 
by ,lisette and her lover ,frontin1 or  
,pasquin4 ,he was in no danger1 from any
 excess of frolicsome petulance1 of     
falling from the dignified tone of the  
supposed high comic into the familiarity
 of farce1 which the ,french hold in    
such contempt4 ,with moderate talents1  
without humour1 and almost without      

vivacity1 neither ingenious in          
invention1 nor possessed of a deep      
insight into the human mind and human   
affairs1 he has in some of his          
productions1 ,le ,glorieux1 ,le         
,philosophe ,mari1 and especially       
,l',indcis1 shewn with great credit to  
himself what true and unpretending      
diligence is by itself capable of       
effecting4 ,other pieces1 for instance1 
,l',ingrat and ,l',homme ,singulier1 are
 complete failures1 and enable us to see
 that a poet who considers ,tartuffe and
 ,the ,misanthrope as the highest       
objects of imitation1 7and with         
,destouches this was evidently the      
case17 has only another step to take to 
lose sight of the comic art altogether4 
,these two works of ,molire have not    
been friendly beacons to his followers1 
but false lights to their ruin4         
,whenever a comic poet in his preface   
worships ,the ,misanthrope as a model1  
,i can immediately foretell the result  
of his labours4 ,he will sacrifice every

 thing like the gladsome inspiration of 
fun and all truly poetical amusement1   
for the dull and formal seriousness of  
prosaic life1 and for prosaical         
applications stamped with the           
respectable name of morals4  ,that      
,marivaux is a mannerist is so          
universally acknowledged in ,france1    
that the peculiar term of marivaudage   
has been invented for his mannerism4    
,but this is at least his own1 and at   
first sight by no means unpleasing4     
,delicacy of mind cannot be denied to   
,marivaux1 only it is coupled with a    
certain littleness4 ,we have stated it  
to be the most refined species of the   
comic of observation1 when a peculiarity
 or property shows itself most          
conspicuously at the very time its      
possessor has the least suspicion of it1
 or is most studious to conceal it4     
,marivaux has applied this to the       
passions2 and navet in the involuntary  
disclosure of emotions certainly belongs
 to the domain of ,comedy4 ,but then    

this navet is prepared by him with too  
much art1 appears too solicitous for our
 applause1 and1 we may almost say1 seems
 too well pleased with it himself4 ,it  
is like children in the game of hide and
 seek1 they cannot stay quiet in their  
corner1 but keep popping out their      
heads1 if they are not immediately      
discovered2 nay1 sometimes1 which is    
still worse1 it is like the squinting   
over a fan held up from affected        
modesty4 ,in ,marivaux we always see his
 aim from the very beginning1 and all   
our attention is directed to discovering
 the way by which he is to lead us to   
it4 ,this would be a skilful mode of    
composing1 if it did not degenerate into
 the insignificant and the superficial4 
,petty inclinations are strengthened by 
petty motives1 exposed to petty         
probations1 and brought by petty steps  
nearer and nearer to a petty conclusion4
 ,the whole generally turns on a        
declaration of love1 and all sorts of   
clandestine means are tried to elicit   

it1 or every kind of slight allusion is 
hazarded to hasten it4 ,marivaux has    
neither painted characters1 nor         
contrived intrigues4 ,the whole plot    
generally turns on an unpronounced word1
 which is always at the tongue's end1   
and which is frequently kept back in a  
pretty arbitrary manner4 ,he is so      
uniform in the motives that he employs1 
that when we have read one of his pieces
 with a tolerable degree of attention we
 know all of them4 ,however1 we must    
still rank him above the herd of stiff  
imitators2 something is to be learned   
even from him1 for he possessed a       
peculiar though a very limited view of  
the essence of ,comedy4  ,two other     
single works are named as master-pieces 
in the regular ,comedy in verse1        
belonging to two writers who here       
perhaps have taken more pains1 but in   
other departments have given a freer    
scope to their natural talent3 the      
,mtromanie of ,piron and the ,mchant of 
,gresset4 ,the ,mtromanie is not written

 without humorous inspiration4 ,in the  
young man possessed with a passion for  
poetry1 ,piron intended in some measure 
to paint himself2 but as we always go   
tenderly to work in the ridicule of     
ourselves1 together with the amiable    
weakness in question1 he endows his hero
 with talents1 magnanimity1 and a good  
heart4 ,but this tender reserve is not  
peculiarly favourable for comic         
strength4 ,as to the ,mchant1 it is one 
of those gloomy comedies which might be 
rapturously hailed by a ,timon as       
serving to confirm his aversion to human
 society1 but which1 on social and      
cheerful minds1 can only give rise to   
the most painful impression4 ,why paint 
a dark and odious disposition which1    
devoid of all human sympathy1 feeds its 
vanity in a cold contempt and derision  
of everything1 and solely occupies      
itself in aimless detraction8 ,why      
exhibit such a moral deformity1 which   
could hardly be tolerated even in       
,tragedy1 for the mere purpose of       

producing domestic discontent and petty 
embarrassments8  ,yet1 according to the 
decision of the ,french critics1 these  
three comedies1 the ,glorieux1 the      
,mtromanie1 and the ,mchant1 are all    
that the eighteenth century can oppose  
to ,molire4 ,we should be disposed to   
rank the ,le ,vieux ,bachelier of       
,collin d',harleville much higher2 but  
for judging this true picture of manners
 there is no scale afforded in the works
 of ,molire1 and it can only be compared
 with those of ,terence4 ,we have here  
the utmost refinement and accuracy of   
characterization1 most felicitously     
combined with an able plot1 which keeps 
on the stretch and rivets our attention1
 while a certain mildness of sentiment  
is diffused over the whole4  ,i purpose 
now to make a few observations on the   
secondary species of the ,opera1        
,operettes1 and ,vaudevilles1 and shall 
conclude with a view of the present     
condition of the ,french stage with     
reference to the histrionic art4  ,in   

the serious1 heroic1 or rather the ideal
 opera1 if we may so express ourselves1 
we can only mention one poet of the age 
of ,louis ,,xiv41 ,quinault--who is now 
little read1 but yet deserving of high  
praise4 ,as a tragic poet1 in the early 
period of his career1 he was satirized  
by ,boileau2 but he was afterwards      
highly successful in another species1   
the musical drama4 ,mazarin had         
introduced into ,france a taste for the 
,italian opera2 ,louis was also desirous
 of rivalling or surpassing foreign     
countries in the external magnificence  
of the drama1 in decoration1 machinery1 
music1 and dancing2 these were all to be
 employed in the celebration of the     
court festivals2 and accordingly ,molire
 was employed to write gay1 and         
,quinault serious operas1 to the music  
of ,lulli4 ,i am not sufficiently versed
 in the earlier literature of the       
,italian opera to be able to speak with 
accuracy1 but ,i suspect that here also 
,quinault laboured more after ,spanish  

than ,italian models2 and more          
particularly1 that he derived from the  
,fiestas of ,calderon the general form  
of his operas1 and their frequently     
allegorical preludes which are often to 
be found in them4 ,it is true1 poetical 
ornament is much more sparingly dealt   
out1 as the whole is necessarily        
shortened for the sake of the music1 and
 the very nature of the ,french language
 and versification is incompatible with 
the splendid magnificence1 the luxurious
 fulness1 displayed by ,calderon4 ,but  
the operas of ,quinault are1 in their   
easy progress1 truly fanciful2 and the  
serious opera cannot1 in my opinion1 be 
stripped of the charm of the marvellous 
without becoming at length wearisome4   
,so far ,quinault appears to me to have 
taken a much better road towards the    
true vocation of particular departments 
of art1 than that on which ,metastasio  
travelled long after him4 ,the latter   
has admirably provided for the wants of 
a melodious music expressive solely of  

feeling2 but where does he furnish the  
least food for the imagination8 ,on the 
other hand1 ,i am not so sure that      
,quinault is justly entitled to praise  
for sacrificing1 in compliance with the 
taste of his countrymen1 everything like
 comic intermixture4 ,he has been       
censured for an occasional play on      
language in the expression of feeling4  
,but is it just to exact the severity of
 the tragical cothurnus in light works  
of this description8 ,why should not    
,poetry also be allowed her arabesque8  
,no person can be more an enemy to      
mannerism than ,i am2 but to censure it 
aright1 we ought first to understand the
 degree of nature and truth which we    
have a right to expect from each        
species1 and what is alone compatible   
with it4 ,the verses of ,quinault have  
no other navet and simplicity than those
 of the madrigal2 and though they       
occasionally fall into the luscious1 at 
other times they express a languishing  
tenderness with gracefulness and a soft 

melody4 ,the opera ought to resemble the
 enchanted gardens of ,armida1 of which 
,quinault says1    ,dans ces lieux      
enchants la volupt prside4  ,we ought   
only to be awaked out of the voluptuous 
dreams of feeling to enjoy the magical  
illusions of fancy4 ,when once we have  
come to imagine1 instead of real men1   
beings whose only language is song1 it  
is but a very short step to represent to
 ourselves creatures whose only         
occupation is love2 that feeling which  
hovers between the sensible and         
intellectual world2 and the first       
invention becomes natural again by means
 of the second4  ,quinault has had no   
successors4 ,how far below his1 both in 
point of invention and of execution1 are
 the ,french operas of the present day6 
,the heroic and tragic have been        
required in a department where they     
cannot produce their proper effect4     
,instead of handling with fanciful      
freedom mythological materials or       
subjects taken from chivalrous or       

pastoral romances1 they have after the  
manner of ,tragedy chained themselves   
down to history1 and by means of their  
heavy seriousness1 and the pedantry of  
their rules1 they have so managed       
matters1 that ,dulness with leaden      
sceptre presides over the opera4 ,the   
deficiencies of their music1 the        
unfitness of the ,french language for   
composition in a style anything higher  
than that of the most simple national   
melodies1 the unaccented and arbitrary  
nature of their recitative1 the bawling 
bravura of the singers1 must be left to 
the animadversions of musical critics4  
,with pretensions far lower1 the ,comic 
,opera or ,operette approaches much more
 nearly to perfection4 ,with respect to 
the composition1 it may and indeed ought
 to assume only a national tone4 ,the   
transition from song to speech1 without 
any musical accompaniment or            
heightening1 which was censured by      
,rousseau as an unsuitable mixture of   
two distinct modes of composition1 may  

be displeasing to the ear2 but it has   
unquestionably produced an advantageous 
effect on the structure of the pieces4  
,in the recitatives1 which generally are
 not half understood1 and seldom        
listened to with any degree of          
attention1 a plot which is even         
moderately complicated cannot be        
developed with due clearness4 ,hence in 
the ,italian opera buffa1 the action is 
altogether neglected2 and along with its
 grotesque caricatures1 it is           
distinguished for uniform situations1   
which admit not of dramatic progress4   
,but the comic opera of the ,french1    
although from the space occupied by the 
music it is unsusceptible of any very   
perfect dramatic development1 is still  
calculated to produce a considerable    
stage effect1 and speaks pleasingly to  
the imagination4 ,the poets have not    
here been prevented by the constraint of
 rules from following out their         
theatrical views4 ,hence these fleeting 
productions are in no wise deficient in 

the rapidity1 life1 and amusement1 which
 are frequently wanting in the more     
correct dramatic works of the ,french4  
,the distinguished favour which the     
operettes of a ,favart1 a ,sedaine and  
later poets1 of whom some are still     
alive1 always meet with in ,germany1    
7where foreign literature has long lost 
its commanding influence1 and where the 
national taste has pronounced so        
strongly against ,french ,tragedy17 is  
by no means to be placed to the account 
of the music2 it is in reality owing to 
their poetical merit4 ,to cite only one 
example out of many1 ,i do not hesitate 
to declare the whole series of scenes in
 ,raoul ,sire de ,crquy1 where the      
children of the drunken turnkey set the 
prisoner at liberty1 a master-piece of  
theatrical painting4 ,how much were it  
to be wished that the ,tragedy of the   
,french1 and even their ,comedy in      
court-dress1 had but a little of this   
truth of circumstance1 this vivid       
presence1 and power of arresting the    

attention4 ,in several operettes1 for   
instance in a ,richard ,coeur de ,lion  
and a ,nina1 the traces of the romantic 
spirit are not to be mistaken4  ,the    
vaudeville is but a variation of the    
comic opera4 ,the essential difference  
is that it dispenses with composition1  
by which the comic opera forms a musical
 whole1 as the songs are set to         
well-known popular airs4 ,the incessant 
skipping from the song to the dialogue1 
often after a few scrapes of the violin 
and a few words1 with the accumulation  
of airs mostly common1 but frequently   
also in a style altogether different    
from the poetry1 drives an ear          
accustomed to ,italian music to despair4
 ,if we can once make up our minds to   
bear with this1 we shall not            
unfrequently be richly recompensed in   
comic drollery2 even in the choice of a 
melody1 and the allusion to the common  
and well-known words1 there is often a  
display of wit4 ,in earlier times       
writers of higher pretensions1 a ,le    

,sage and a ,piron have laboured in the 
department of the vaudeville1 and even  
for marionettes4 ,the wits who now      
dedicate themselves to this species are 
little known out of ,paris1 but this    
gives them no great concern4 ,it not    
unfrequently happens that several of    
them join together1 that the fruit of   
their common talents may be sooner      
brought to light4 ,the parody of new    
theatrical pieces1 the anecdotes of the 
day1 which form the common talk among   
all the idlers of the capital1 must     
furnish them with subjects in working up
 which little delay can be brooked4     
,these vaudevilles are like the gnats   
that buzz about in a summer evening2    
they often sting1 but they fly merrily  
about so long as the sun of opportunity 
shines upon them4 ,a piece like the     
,despair of ,jocrisse1 which1 after a   
lapse of years1 may be still            
occasionally brought out1 passes justly 
among the ephemeral productions for a   
classical work that has gained the crown

 of immortality4 ,we must1 however1 see 
it acted by ,brunet1 whose face is      
almost a mask1 and who is nearly as     
inexhaustible in the part of the        
simpleton as ,puncinello is in his4     
,from a consideration of the sportive   
secondary species1 formed out of a      
mixture of the comic with the affecting1
 in which authors and spectators give   
themselves up without reserve to their  
natural inclinations1 it appears to me  
evident1 that as comic wit with the     
,italians consists in grotesque mimicry 
or buffoonery1 and with the ,english in 
humour1 with the ,french it consists in 
good-natured gaiety4 ,among the lower   
orders especially this property is      
everywhere visible1 where it has not    
been supplanted by the artifice of      
corruption4  ,with respect to the       
present condition of ,dramatic ,art in  
,france1 every thing depends on the     
endeavours to introduce the theatrical  
liberties of other countries1 or mixed  
species of the drama4 ,the hope of      

producing any thing truly new in the two
 species which are alone admitted to be 
regular1 of excelling the works already 
produced1 of filling up the old frames  
with richer pictures1 becomes more and  
more distant every day4 ,a new work     
seldom obtains a decided approbation2   
and1 even at best1 this approbation only
 lasts till it has been found out that  
the work is only a new preparation of   
their old classical productions4  ,we   
have passed over several things relating
 to these endeavours1 that we may       
deliver together all the observations   
which we have to make on the subject4   
,the attacks hitherto made against the  
,french forms of art1 first by ,de la   
,motte1 and afterwards by ,diderot and  
,mercier1 have been like voices in the  
wilderness4 ,it could not be otherwise1 
as the principles on which these writers
 proceeded were in reality destructive1 
not merely of the conventional forms1   
but of all poetical forms whatever1 and 
as none of them showed themselves       

capable of suitably supporting their    
doctrine by their own example1 even when
 they were in the right they contrived1 
nevertheless1 by a false application1 to
 be in the wrong4  ,the most remarkable 
among them is ,diderot1 whom ,lessing   
calls the best critic of the ,french4   
,in opposition to this opinion ,i should
 be disposed to affirm that he was no   
critic at all4 ,i will not lay any      
stress on his mistaking the object of   
poetry and the fine arts1 which he      
considered to be merely moral3 a man may
 be a critic without being a theorist4  
,but a man cannot be a critic without   
being thoroughly acquainted with the    
conditions1 means1 and styles of an art2
 and here the nature of ,diderot's      
studies and acquirements renders his    
critical capabilities extremely         
questionable4 ,this ingenious sophist   
deals out his blows with such boisterous
 haste in the province of criticism1    
that the half of them are thrown away4  
,the true and the false1 the old and the

 new1 the essential and the unimportant1
 are so mixed up together1 that the     
highest praise we can bestow upon him   
is1 that he is worthy of the labour of  
disentangling them4 ,what he wished to  
accomplish had either been accomplished1
 though not in ,france1 or did not      
deserve to be accomplished1 or was      
altogether impracticable4 ,his attack on
 the formality and holiday primness of  
the dramatic probabilities1 of the      
excessive symmetry of the ,french       
versification1 declamation1 and mode of 
acting1 was just2 but1 at the same time1
 he objected to all theatrical          
elevation1 and refused to allow to the  
characters anything like a perfect mode 
of communicating what was passing within
 them4 ,he nowhere assigns the reason   
why he held versification as not        
suitable1 or prose as more suitable1 to 
familiar tragedy2 this has been extended
 by others1 and among the rest1         
unfortunately1 by ,lessing1 to every    
species of the drama2 but the ground for

 it evidently rests on nothing but the  
mistaken principles of illusion and     
nature1 to which we have more than once 
adverted4 ,footnote3 ,i have stated and 
refuted them in a treatise ,on the      
,relation of the ,fine ,arts to ,nature 
in the fifth number of the periodical   
work ,prometheus1 published by ,leo von 
,seckendorf4 ,and if he gives an undue  
preference to the sentimental drama and 
the familiar tragedy1 species valuable  
in themselves1 and susceptible of a     
truly poetic treatment2 was not this on 
account of the application8 ,the main   
thing1 according to him1 is not         
character and situations1 but ranks of  
life and family relations1 that         
spectators in similar ranks and         
relations may lay the example to heart4 
,but this would put an end to everything
 like true enjoyment in art4 ,diderot   
recommended that the composition should 
have this direction1 with the very view 
which1 in the case of a historical      
tragedy founded on the events of their  

own times1 met with the disapprobation  
of the ,athenians1 and subjected its    
author ,phrynichus to their displeasure 
,footnote3 ,see page #gb44 ,the view of 
a fire by night may1 from the wonderful 
effect produced by the combination of   
flames and darkness1 fill the           
unconcerned spectator with delight2 but 
when our neighbour's house is           
burning1--jam oreximus ardet            
,ucalegon--we shall hardly be disposed  
to see the affair in such a picturesque 
light4  ,it is clear that ,diderot was  
induced to take in his sail as he made  
way with his own dramatic attempts4 ,he 
displayed the greatest boldness in an   
offensive publication of his youth1 in  
which he wished to overturn the entire  
dramatic system of the ,french2 he was  
less daring in the dialogues which      
accompany the ,fils ,naturel1 and he    
showed the greatest moderation in the   
treatise appended to the ,pre de        
,famille4 ,he carried his hostility a   
great deal too far with respect to the  

forms and the objects of the dramatic   
art4 ,but in other respects he has not  
gone far enough3 in his view of the     
,unities of ,place and ,time1 and the   
mixture of seriousness and mirth1 he has
 shown himself infected with the        
prejudices of his nation4  ,the two     
pieces above mentioned1 which obtained  
an unmerited reputation on their first  
appearance1 have long since received    
their due appreciation4 ,on the ,fils   
,naturel ,lessing has pronounced a      
severe sentence1 without1 however1      
censuring the scandalous plagiarism from
 ,goldoni4 ,but the ,pre de ,famille he 
calls an excellent piece1 but has       
forgotten1 however1 to assign any       
grounds for his opinion4 ,its defective 
plot and want of connexion have been    
well exposed by ,la ,harpe4 ,the        
execution of both pieces exhibits the   
utmost mannerism3 the characters1 which 
are anything but natural1 become from   
their frigid prating about virtue in the
 most hypocritical style1 and the tears 

which they are perpetually shedding1    
altogether intolerable4 ,we ,germans may
 justly say1 ,hinc illae lacrymae6 hence
 the unnecessary tears with which our   
stage has ever since been overflowed4   
,the custom which has grown up of giving
 long and circumstantial directions     
respecting the action1 and which we owe 
also to ,diderot1 has been of the       
greatest detriment to dramatic          
eloquence4 ,in this way the poet gives1 
as it were1 an order on the player1     
instead of paying out of his own purse4 
,footnote3 ,i remember to have read the 
following direction in a ,german drama1 
which is not worse than many            
others3--,he flashes lightning at him   
with his eyes 7,er blitzt ihn mit den   
,augen an7 and goes off4 ,all good      
dramatists have uniformly had the action
 in some degree present to their minds2 
but if the actor requires instruction on
 the subject1 he will hardly possess the
 talent of following it up with the     
suitable gestures4 ,the speeches should 

be so framed that an intelligent actor  
could hardly fail to give them the      
proper action4  ,it will he admitted1   
that long before ,diderot there were    
serious family pictures1 affecting      
dramas1 and familial tragedies1 much    
better than any which he was capable of 
executing4 ,voltaire1 who could never   
rightly succeed in ,comedy1 gave in his 
,enfant ,prodigue and ,nanine a mixture 
of comic scenes and affecting           
situations1 the latter of which are     
deserving of high praise4 ,the affecting
 drama had been before attempted in     
,france by ,la ,chausse4 ,all this was  
in verse3 and why not8 ,of the familiar 
tragedy 7with the very same moral       
direction for which ,diderot contended7 
several examples have been produced on  
the ,english stage3 and one of them1    
,beverley1 or the ,gamester1 is         
translated into ,french4 ,the period of 
sentimentality was of some use to the   
affecting or sentimental drama2 but the 
familiar tragedy was never very         

successful in ,france1 where they were  
too much attached to brilliancy and     
pomp4 ,the ,melanie of ,la ,harpe 7to   
whom the stage of the present day owes  
,philoctete1 the most faithful imitation
 of a ,grecian piece7 abounds with those
 painful impressions which form the rock
 this species may be said to split upon4
 ,the piece may perhaps be well adapted 
to enlighten the conscience of a father 
who has determined to force his daughter
 to enter a cloister2 but to other      
spectators it can only be painful4      
,notwithstanding the opposition which   
,diderot experienced1 he was however the
 founder of a sort of school of which   
the most distinguished names are        
,beaumarchais and ,mercier4 ,the former 
wrote only two pieces in the spirit of  
his predecessor--,eugenie1 and ,la ,mre 
,coupable2 and they display the very    
same faults4 ,his acquaintance with     
,spain and the ,spanish theatre led him 
to bring something new on the stage in  
the way of the piece of intrigue1 a     

species which had long been neglected4  
,these works were more distinguished by 
witty sallies than by humour of         
character2 but their greatest attraction
 consisted in the allusions to his own  
career as an author4 ,the plot of the   
,barber of ,seville is rather trite2 the
 ,marriage of ,figaro is planned with   
much more art1 but the manners which it 
portrays are loose2 and it is also      
censurable in a poetical point of view1 
on account of the number of foreign     
excrescences with which it is loaded4   
,in both ,french characters are         
exhibited under the disguise of a       
,spanish costume1 which1 however1 is    
very ill observed ,footnote3 ,the       
numerous sins of ,beaumarchais against  
the ,spanish manners and observances1   
are pointed out by ,de la ,huerta in the
 introduction to his ,teatro ,espaol44  
,the extraordinary applause which these 
pieces met with would lead to the       
conclusion1 that the ,french public do  
not hold the comedy of intrigue in such 

low estimation as it is by the critics3 
but the means by which ,beaumarchais    
pleased were certainly1 in part it      
least1 foreign to art4  ,the attempt of 
,ducis to make his countrymen acquainted
 with ,shakspeare by modelling a few of 
his tragedies according to the ,french  
rules1 cannot be accounted an           
enlargement of their theatre4 ,we       
perceive here and there indeed the torn 
members of the poet--disjecta membra    
poetae2 but the whole is so constrained1
 disfigured1 and1 from the simple       
fulness of the original1 tortured and   
twisted into such miserable intricacy1  
that even when the language is retained 
word for word1 it ceases to convey its  
genuine meaning4 ,the crowd which these 
tragedies attracted1 especially from    
their affording an unusual room to the  
inimitable ,talma for the display of his
 art1 must be looked upon as no slight  
symptom of the people's dissatisfaction 
with their old works1 and the want of   
others more powerfully agitating4  ,as  

the ,parisian theatres are at present   
tied down to certain kinds1 and as      
poetry has here a point of contact with 
the police1 the numerous mixed and new  
attempts are for the most part banished 
to the subordinate theatres4 ,of these  
new attempts the ,melo-dramas constitute
 a principal part4 ,a statistical writer
 of the theatre informs us1 that for a  
number of years back the new productions
 in ,tragedy and regular ,comedy have   
been fewest1 and that the melo-dramas   
have in number exceeded all the others  
put together4 ,they do not mean by      
melo-drama1 as we do1 a drama in which  
the pauses are filled up by monologue   
with instrumental music1 but where      
actions in any wise wonderful1          
adventurous1 or even sensuous1 are      
exhibited in emphatic prose with        
suitable decorations and dresses4       
,advantage might be taken of this       
prevailing inclination to furnish a     
better description of entertainment3    
since most of the melo-dramas are       

unfortunately rude even to insipidity1  
and resemble abortive attempts at the   
romantic4  ,in the sphere of dramatic   
literature the labours of a ,le ,mercier
 are undoubtedly deserving of the       
critic's attention4 ,this able man      
endeavours to break through the         
prescribed limits in every possible way1
 and is so passionately fond of his art 
that nothing can deter him from it2     
although almost every new attempt which 
he makes converts the pit into a regular
 field of battle4 ,footnote3 ,since     
these ,lectures were held1 such a tumult
 arose in the theatre at ,paris on the  
representation of his ,christopher      
,columbus1 that several of the champions
 of ,boileau came off with bruised heads
 and broken shins4 ,they were in the    
right to fight like desperadoes2 for if 
this piece had succeeded1 it would have 
been all over with the consecrated      
,unities and good taste in the          
separation of the heroic and the low4   
,the first act takes place in the house 

of ,columbus1 the second at the court of
 ,isabella1 the third and last on       
shipboard near the ,new ,world4 ,the    
object of the poet was to show that the 
man in whom any grand idea originates is
 everywhere opposed and thwarted by the 
limited and common-place views of other 
men2 but that the strength of his       
enthusiasm enables him to overcome all  
obstacles4 ,in his own house1 and among 
his acquaintances1 ,columbus is         
considered as insane2 at court he       
obtains with difficulty a lukewarm      
support2 in his own vessel a mutiny is  
on the point of breaking out1 when the  
wished-for land is discovered1 and the  
piece ends with the exclamation of      
,land1 land6 ,all this is conceived and 
planned very skilfully2 but in the      
execution1 however1 there are numerous  
defects4 ,in another piece not yet acted
 nor printed1 called ,la ,journe des    
,dupes1 which ,i heard the author read1 
he has painted with historical truth1   
both in regard to circumstances and the 

spirit of the age1 a well-known but     
unsuccessful court-cabal against        
,cardinal ,richelieu4 ,it is a political
 comedy1 in which the rag-gatherer and  
the king express themselves in language 
suitable to their stations4 ,the poet   
has1 with the greatest ingenuity1 shown 
the manner in which trivial causes      
assist or impede the execution of a     
great political design1 the             
dissimulation practised by political    
personages towards others1 and even     
towards themselves1 and the different   
tones which they assume according to    
circumstances2 in a word1 he has        
exhibited the whole inward aspect of the
 game of politics4  ,from all this we   
may infer1 that the inclinations of the 
,french public1 when they forget the    
duties they have imbibed from ,boileau's
 ,art of ,poetry1 are not quite so      
hostile to the dramatic liberties of    
other nations as might be supposed1 and 
that the old and narrow system is       
chiefly upheld by a superstitious       

attachment to traditional opinions4     
,the histrionic art1 particularly in    
high comedy and tragedy1 has been long  
carried in ,france to great perfection4 
,in external dignity1 quickness1        
correctness of memory1 and in a         
wonderful degree of propriety and       
elegance in the delivery of verse1 the  
best ,french actors are hardly to be    
surpassed4 ,their efforts to please are 
incredible3 every moment they pass on   
the stage is a valuable opportunity1 of 
which they must avail themselves4 ,the  
extremely fastidious taste of a ,paris  
pit1 and the wholesome severity of the  
journalists1 excite in them a spirit of 
incessant emulation2 and the            
circumstance of acting a number of      
classical works1 which for generations  
have been in the possession of the      
stage1 contributes also greatly to their
 excellence in their art4 ,as the       
spectators have these works nearly by   
heart1 their whole attention may be     
directed to the acting1 and every faulty

 syllable meets in this way with        
immediate detection and reprobation4    
,in high comedy the social refinement of
 the nation affords great advantages to 
their actors4 ,but with respect to      
tragical composition1 the art of the    
actor should also accommodate itself to 
the spirit of the poetry4 ,i am inclined
 to doubt1 however1 whether this is the 
case with the ,french actors1 and       
whether the authors of the tragedies1   
especially those of the age of ,louis   
,,xiv4 would altogether recognise       
themselves in the mode in which these   
compositions are at present represented4
  ,the tragic imitation and recitation  
of the ,french oscillate between two    
opposite extremes1 the first of which is
 occasioned by the prevailing tone of   
the piece1 while the second seems rather
 to be at variance with it1-- between   
measured formality and extravagant      
boisterousness4 ,the first might        
formerly preponderate1 but the balance  
is now on the other side4  ,let us hear 

,voltaire's description of the manner in
 which1 in the time of ,louis ,,xiv41   
,augustus delivered his discourse to    
,cinna and ,maximus4 ,augustus entered  
with the step of a braggadocio1 his head
 covered with a four-cornered peruque1  
which hung down to his girdle2 the      
peruque was stuck full of laurel leaves1
 and above this he wore a large hat with
 a double row of red feathers4 ,he      
seated himself on a huge fauteuil1 two  
steps high1 ,cinna and ,maximus on two  
low chairs2 and the pompous declamation 
fully corresponded to the ostentatious  
manner in which he made his appearance4 
,as at that time1 and even long         
afterwards1 tragedies were acted in a   
court-dress of the newest fashion1 with 
large cravats1 swords1 and hats1 no     
other movements were practicable but    
such as were allowable in an            
antechamber1 or1 at most1 a slight      
waving of the hand2 and it was even     
considered a bold theatrical attempt1   
when1 in the last scene of ,polyeucte1  

,severus entered with his hat on his    
head for the purpose of accusing ,felix 
of treachery1 and the latter listened to
 him with his hat under his arm4        
,however1 there were even early examples
 of an extravagance of an opposite      
description4 ,in the ,mariamne of       
,mairet1 an older poet than ,corneille1 
the player who acted ,herod1 roared     
himself to death4 ,this may1 indeed1 be 
called out-heroding ,herod6 ,when       
,voltaire was instructing an actress in 
some tragic part1 she said to him1 ,were
 ,i to play in this manner1 sir1 they   
would say the devil was in me4--,very   
right1 answered ,voltaire1 an actress   
ought to have the devil in her4 ,this   
expression proves1 at least1 no very    
keen sense for that dignity and         
sweetness which in an ideal composition1
 such as the ,french ,tragedy pretends  
to be1 ought never to be lost sight of1 
even in the wildest whirlwind of        
passion4  ,i found occasionally1 even in
 the action of the very best players of 

the present day1 sudden leaps from the  
measured solemnity in recitation and    
gesticulation which the general tone of 
the composition required1 to a          
boisterousness of passion absolutely    
convulsive1 without any due preparation 
or softening by intervening gradations4 
,they are led to this by a sort of      
obscure feeling1 that the conventional  
forms of poetry generally impede the    
movements of nature2 when the poet any  
where leaves them at liberty1 they then 
indemnify themselves for the former     
constraint1 and load1 as it were1 this  
rare moment of abandonment with the     
whole amount of life and animation which
 had been kept back1 and which ought to 
have been equally diffused over the     
whole4 ,hence their convulsive and      
obstreperous violence4 ,in bravura they 
take care not to be deficient2 but they 
frequently lose sight of the true spirit
 of the composition4 ,in general1 7with 
the single exception of the great       
,talma17 they consider their parts as a 

sort of mosaic work of brilliant        
passages1 and they rather endeavour to  
make the most of each separate passage1 
independently of the rest1 than to go   
back to the invisible central point of  
the character1 and to consider every    
expression of it as an emanation from   
that point4 ,they are always afraid of  
underdoing their parts2 and hence they  
are worse qualified for reserved action1
 for eloquent silence1 where1 under an  
appearance of outward tranquillity1 the 
most hidden emotions of the mind are    
betrayed4 ,however1 this is a part which
 is seldom imposed on them by their     
poets2 and if the cause of such         
excessive violence in the expression of 
passion is not to be found in the works 
themselves1 they at all events occasion 
the actor to lay greater stress on      
superficial brilliancy than on a        
profound knowledge of character         
,footnote3 ,see a treatise of ,m4 ,von  
,humboldt the elder1 in ,goethe's       
,propylen1 on the ,french acting1       

equally distinguished for a refined and 
solid spirit of observation44           
,,lecture ,,xxii4  ,comparison of the   
,english and ,spanish ,theatres--,spirit
 of the ,romantic                       
,drama--,shakspeare--,his age and the   
circumstances of his ,life4   ,in       
conformity with the plan which we laid  
down at the first1 we shall now proceed 
to treat of the ,english and ,spanish   
theatres4 ,we have been1 on various     
occasions1 compelled in passing to      
allude cursorily1 sometimes to the one  
and sometimes to the other1 partly for  
the sake of placing1 by means of        
contrast1 many ideas in a clearer light1
 and partly on account of the influence 
which these stages have had on the      
theatres of other countries4 ,both the  
,english and ,spaniards possess a very  
rich dramatic literature1 both have had 
a number of prolific and highly talented
 dramatists1 among whom even the least  
admired and celebrated1 considered as a 
whole1 display uncommon aptitude for    

dramatic animation1 and insight into the
 essence of theatrical effect4 ,the     
history of their theatres has no        
connexion with that of the ,italians and
 ,french1 for they developed themselves 
wholly out of the abundance of their own
 intrinsic energy1 without any foreign  
influence3 the attempts to bring them   
back to an imitation of the ancients1 or
 even of the ,french1 have either been  
attended with no success1 or not been   
made till a late period in the decay of 
the drama4 ,the formation of these two  
stages1 again1 is equally independent of
 each other2 the ,spanish poets were    
altogether unacquainted with the        
,english2 and in the older and most     
important period of the ,english theatre
 ,i could discover no trace of any      
knowledge of ,spanish plays1 7though    
their novels and romances were certainly
 known17 and it was not till the time of
 ,charles ,,ii4 that translations from  
,calderon first made their appearance4  
,so many things among men have been     

handed down from century to century and 
from nation to nation1 and the human    
mind is in general so slow to invent1   
that originality in any department of   
mental exertion is everywhere a rare    
phenomenon4 ,we are desirous of seeing  
the result of the efforts of inventive  
geniuses when1 regardless of what in the
 same line has elsewhere been carried to
 a high degree of perfection1 they set  
to work in good earnest to invent       
altogether for themselves2 when they lay
 the foundation of the new edifice on   
uncovered ground1 and draw all the      
preparations1 all the building          
materials1 from their own resources4 ,we
 participate1 in some measure1 in the   
joy of success1 when we see them advance
 rapidly from their first helplessness  
and need to a finished mastery in their 
art4 ,the history of the ,grecian       
theatre would afford us this cheering   
prospect could we witness its rudest    
beginnings1 which were not preserved1   
for they were not even committed to     

writing2 but it is easy1 when we compare
 together ,aeschylus and ,sophocles1 to 
form some idea of the preceding period4 
,the ,greeks neither inherited nor      
borrowed their dramatic art from any    
other people2 it was original and       
native1 and for that very reason was it 
able to produce a living and powerful   
effect4 ,but it ended with the period   
when ,greeks imitated ,greeks2 namely1  
when the ,alexandrian poets began       
learnedly and critically to compose     
dramas after the model of the great     
tragic writers4 ,the reverse of this was
 the case with the ,romans3 they        
received the form and substance of their
 dramas from the ,greeks2 they never    
attempted to act according to their own 
discretion1 and to express their own way
 of thinking2 and hence they occupy so  
insignificant a place in the history of 
dramatic art4 ,among the nations of     
modern ,europe1 the ,english and        
,spaniards alone 7for the ,german stage 
is but forming71 possess as yet a       

theatre entirely original and national1 
which1 in its own peculiar shape1 has   
arrived at maturity4  ,those critics who
 consider the authority of the ancients 
as models to be such1 that in poetry1 as
 in all the other arts1 there can be no 
safety out of the pale of imitation1    
affirm1 that as the nations in question 
have not followed this course1 they have
 brought nothing but irregular works on 
the stage1 which1 though they may       
possess occasional passages of splendour
 and beauty1 must yet1 as a whole1 be   
for ever reprobated as barbarous1 and   
wanting in form4 ,we have already1 in   
the introductory part of these          
,lectures1 stated our sentiments        
generally on this way of thinking2 but  
we must now examine the subject somewhat
 more closely4  ,if the assertion be    
well founded1 all that distinguishes the
 works of the greatest ,english and     
,spanish dramatists1 a ,shakspeare and a
 ,calderon1 must rank them far below the
 ancients2 they could in no wise be of  

importance for theory1 and would at most
 appear remarkable1 on the assumption   
that the obstinacy of these nations in  
refusing to comply with the rules1 may  
have afforded a more ample field to the 
poets1 to display their native          
originality1 though at the expense of   
art4 ,but even this assumption1 on a    
closer examination1 appears extremely   
questionable4 ,the poetic spirit        
requires to be limited1 that it may move
 with a becoming liberty1 within its    
proper precincts1 as has been felt by   
all nations on the first invention of   
metre2 it must act according to laws    
derivable from its own essence1         
otherwise its strength will evaporate in
 boundless vacuity4  ,the works of      
genius cannot therefore be permitted to 
be without form2 but of this there is no
 danger4 ,however1 that we may answer   
this objection of want of form1 we must 
understand the exact meaning of the term
 form1 since most critics1 and more     
especially those who insist on a stiff  

regularity1 interpret it merely in a    
mechanical1 and not in an organical     
sense4 ,form is mechanical when1 through
 external force1 it is imparted to any  
material merely as an accidental        
addition without reference to its       
quality2 as1 for example1 when we give a
 particular shape to a soft mass that it
 may retain the same after its          
induration4 ,organical form1 again1 is  
innate2 it unfolds itself from within1  
and acquires its determination          
contemporaneously with the perfect      
development of the germ4 ,we everywhere 
discover such forms in nature throughout
 the whole range of living powers1 from 
the crystallization of salts and        
minerals to plants and flowers1 and from
 these again to the human body4 ,in the 
fine arts1 as well as in the domain of  
nature--the supreme artist1 all genuine 
forms are organical1 that is1 determined
 by the quality of the work4 ,in a word1
 the form is nothing but a significant  
exterior1 the speaking physiognomy of   

each thing1 which1 as long as it is not 
disfigured by any destructive accident1 
gives a true evidence of its hidden     
essence4  ,hence it is evident that the 
spirit of poetry1 which1 though         
imperishable1 migrates1 as it were1     
through different bodies1 must1 so often
 as it is newly born in the human race1 
mould to itself1 out of the nutrimental 
substance of an altered age1 a body of a
 different conformation4 ,the forms vary
 with the direction taken by the        
poetical sense2 and when we give to the 
new kinds of poetry the old names1 and  
judge of them according to the ideas    
conveyed by these names1 the application
 which we make of the authority of      
classical antiquity is altogether       
unjustifiable4 ,no one should be tried  
before a tribunal to which he is not    
amenable4 ,we may safely admit1 that the
 most of the ,english and ,spanish      
dramatic works are neither tragedies nor
 comedies in the sense of the ancients3 
they are romantic dramas4 ,that the     

stage of a people who1 in its foundation
 and formation1 neither knew nor wished 
to know anything of foreign models1 will
 possess many peculiarities2 and not    
only deviate from1 but even exhibit a   
striking contrast to1 the theatres of   
other nations who had a common model for
 imitation before their eyes1 is easily 
supposable1 and we should only be       
astonished were it otherwise4 ,but when 
in two nations1 differing so widely as  
the ,english and ,spanish1 in physical1 
moral1 political1 and religious         
respects1 the theatres 7which1 without  
being known to each other1 arose about  
the same time17 possess1 along with     
external and internal diversities1 the  
most striking features of affinity1 the 
attention even of the most thoughtless  
cannot but be turned to this phenomenon2
 and the conjecture will naturally      
occur1 that the same1 or1 at least1 a   
kindred principle must have prevailed in
 the development of both4 ,this         
comparison1 however1 of the ,english and

 ,spanish theatre1 in their common      
contrast with every dramatic literature 
which has grown up out of an imitation  
of the ancients1 has1 so far as we know1
 never yet been attempted4 ,could we    
raise from the dead a countryman1       
contemporary1 and intelligent admirer of
 ,shakspeare1 and another of ,calderon1 
and introduce to their acquaintance the 
works of the poet to which in life they 
were strangers1 they would both1 without
 doubt1 considering the subject rather  
from a national than a general point of 
view1 enter with difficulty into the    
above idea1 and have many objections to 
urge against it4 ,but here a reconciling
 criticism ,footnote3 ,this appropriate 
expression was1 if we mistake not1 first
 used by ,m4 ,adam ,mller in his        
,lectures on ,german ,science and       
,literature4 ,if1 however1 he gives     
himself out for the inventor of the     
thing itself1 he is1 to use the softest 
word1 in error4 ,long before him other  
,germans had endeavoured to reconcile   

the contrarieties of taste of different 
ages and nations1 and to pay due homage 
to all genuine poetry and art4 ,between 
good and bad1 it is true1 no            
reconciliation is possible4 must step   
in2 and this1 perhaps1 may be best      
exercised by a ,german1 who is free from
 the national peculiarities of either   
,englishmen or ,spaniards1 yet by       
inclination friendly to both1 and       
prevented by no jealousy from           
acknowledging the greatness which has   
been earlier exhibited in other         
countries than in his own4  ,the        
similarity of the ,english and ,spanish 
theatres does not consist merely in the 
bold neglect of the ,unities of ,place  
and ,time1 and in the commixture of     
comic and tragic elements3 that they    
were unwilling or unable to comply with 
the rules and with right reason1 7in the
 meaning of certain critics these terms 
are equivalent17 may be considered as an
 evidence of merely negative properties4
 ,the ground of the resemblance lies far

 deeper1 in the inmost substance of the 
fictions1 and in the essential          
relations1 through which every deviation
 of form1 becomes a true requisite1     
which1 together with its validity1 has  
also its significance4 ,what they have  
in common with each other is the spirit 
of the romantic poetry1 giving utterance
 to itself in a dramatic shape4         
,however1 to explain ourselves with due 
precision1 the ,spanish theatre1 in our 
opinion1 down to its decline and fall in
 the commencement of the eighteenth     
century1 is almost entirely romantic2   
the ,english is completely so in        
,shakspeare alone1 its founder and      
greatest master3 in later poets the     
romantic principle appears more or less 
degenerated1 or is no longer            
perceivable1 although the march of      
dramatic composition introduced by      
virtue of it has been1 outwardly at     
least1 pretty generally retained4 ,the  
manner in which the different ways of   
thinking of the two nations1 one a      

northern and the other a southern1 have 
been expressed2 the former endowed with 
a gloomy1 the latter with a glowing     
imagination2 the one nation possessed of
 a scrutinizing seriousness disposed to 
withdraw within themselves1 the other   
impelled outwardly by the violence of   
passion2 the mode in which all this has 
been accomplished will be most          
satisfactorily explained at the close of
 this section1 when we come to institute
 a parallel between ,shakspeare and     
,calderon1 the only two poets who are   
entitled to be called great4  ,of the   
origin and essence of the romantic ,i   
treated in my first ,lecture1 and ,i    
shall here1 therefore1 merely briefly   
mention the subject4 ,the ancient art   
and poetry rigorously separate things   
which are dissimilar2 the romantic      
delights in indissoluble mixtures2 all  
contrarieties3 nature and art1 poetry   
and prose1 seriousness and mirth1       
recollection and anticipation1          
spirituality and sensuality1 terrestrial

 and celestial1 life and death1 are by  
it blended together in the most intimate
 combination4 ,as the oldest lawgivers  
delivered their mandatory instructions  
and prescriptions in measured melodies2 
as this is fabulously ascribed to       
,orpheus1 the first softener of the yet 
untamed race of mortals2 in like manner 
the whole of the ancient poetry and art 
is1 as it were1 a rhythmical nomos      
7law71 an harmonious promulgation of the
 permanently established legislation of 
a world submitted to a beautiful order1 
and reflecting in itself the eternal    
images of things4 ,romantic poetry1 on  
the other hand1 is the expression of the
 secret attraction to a chaos which lies
 concealed in the very bosom of the     
ordered universe1 and is perpetually    
striving after new and marvellous       
births2 the life-giving spirit of primal
 love broods here anew on the face of   
the waters4 ,the former is more simple1 
clear1 and like to nature in the        
self-existent perfection of her separate

 works2 the latter1 notwithstanding its 
fragmentary appearance1 approaches more 
to the secret of the universe4 ,for     
,conception can only comprise each      
object separately1 but nothing in truth 
can ever exist separately and by itself2
 ,feeling perceives all in all at one   
and the same time4  ,respecting the two 
species of poetry with which we are here
 principally occupied1 we compared the  
ancient ,tragedy to a group in          
sculpture3 the figures corresponding to 
the characters1 and their grouping to   
the action2 and to these two in both    
productions of art is the consideration 
exclusively directed1 as being all that 
is properly exhibited4 ,but the romantic
 drama must be viewed as a large        
picture1 where not merely figure and    
motion are exhibited in larger1 richer  
groups1 but where even all that         
surrounds the figures must also be      
portrayed2 where we see not merely the  
nearest objects1 but are indulged with  
the prospect of a considerable distance2

 and all this under a magical light1    
which assists in giving to the          
impression the particular character     
desired4  ,such a picture must be       
bounded less perfectly and less         
distinctly1 than the group2 for it is   
like a fragment cut out of the optic    
scene of the world4 ,however the        
painter1 by the setting of his          
foreground1 by throwing the whole of his
 light into the centre1 and by other    
means of fixing the point of view1 will 
learn that he must neither wander beyond
 the composition1 nor omit any thing    
within it4  ,in the representation of   
figure1 ,painting cannot compete with   
,sculpture1 since the former can only   
exhibit it by a deception and from a    
single point of view2 but1 on the other 
hand1 it communicates more life to its  
imitations1 by colours which in a       
picture are made to imitate the lightest
 shades of mental expression in the     
countenance4 ,the look1 which can be    
given only very imperfectly by          

,sculpture1 enables us to read much     
deeper in the mind1 and to perceive its 
lightest movements4 ,its peculiar charm1
 in short1 consists in this1 that it    
enables us to see in bodily objects what
 is least corporeal1 namely1 light and  
air4  ,the very same description of     
beauties are peculiar to the romantic   
drama4 ,it does not 7like the ,old      
,tragedy7 separate seriousness and the  
action1 in a rigid manner1 from among   
the whole ingredients of life2 it       
embraces at once the whole of the       
chequered drama of life with all its    
circumstances2 and while it seems only  
to represent subjects brought           
accidentally together1 it satisfies the 
unconscious requisitions of fancy1      
buries us in reflections on the         
inexpressible signification of the      
objects which we view blended by order1 
nearness and distance1 light and colour1
 into one harmonious whole2 and thus    
lends1 as it were1 a soul to the        
prospect before us4  ,the change of time

 and of place1 7supposing its influence 
on the mind to be included in the       
picture2 and that it comes to the aid of
 the theatrical perspective1 with       
reference to what is indicated in the   
distance1 or half- concealed by         
intervening objects27 the contrast of   
sport and earnest 7supposing that in    
degree and kind they bear a proportion  
to each other27 finally1 the mixture of 
the dialogical and the lyrical elements1
 7by which the poet is enabled1 more or 
less perfectly1 to transform his        
personages into poetical beings37 these1
 in my opinion1 are not mere licenses1  
but true beauties in the romantic drama4
 ,in all these points1 and in many      
others also1 the ,english and ,spanish  
works1 which are pre-eminently worthy of
 this title of ,romantic1 fully resemble
 each other1 however different they may 
be in other respects4  ,of the two we   
shall first notice the ,english theatre1
 because it arrived earlier at maturity 
than the ,spanish4 ,in both we must     

occupy ourselves almost exclusively with
 a single artist1 with ,shakspeare in   
the one and ,calderon in the other2 but 
not in the same order with each1 for    
,shakspeare stands first and earliest   
among the ,english2 any remarks we may  
have to make on earlier or contemporary 
antiquities of the ,english stage may be
 made in a review of his history4 ,but  
,calderon had many predecessors2 he is  
at once the summit and the close nearly 
of dramatic art in ,spain4  ,the wish to
 speak with the brevity which the limits
 of my plan demand1 of a poet to the    
study of whom ,i have devoted many years
 of my life1 places me in no little     
embarrassment4 ,i know not where to     
begin2 for ,i should never be able to   
end1 were ,i to say all that ,i have    
felt and thought on the perusal of his  
works4 ,with the poet as with the man1 a
 more than ordinary intimacy prevents   
us1 perhaps1 from putting ourselves in  
the place of those who are first forming
 an acquaintance with him3 we are too   

familiar with his most striking         
peculiarities1 to be able to pronounce  
upon the first impression which they are
 calculated to make on others4 ,on the  
other hand1 we ought to possess1 and to 
have the power of communicating1 more   
correct ideas of his mode of procedure1 
of his concealed or less obvious views1 
and of the meaning and import of his    
labours1 than others whose acquaintance 
with him is more limited4  ,shakspeare  
is the pride of his nation4 ,a late poet
 has1 with propriety1 called him the    
genius of the ,british isles4 ,he was   
the idol of his contemporaries3 during  
the interval indeed of puritanical      
fanaticism1 which broke out in the next 
generation1 and rigorously proscribed   
all liberal arts and literature1 and    
during the reign of the ,second         
,charles1 when his works were either not
 acted at all1 or if so1 very much      
changed and disfigured1 his fame was    
awhile obscured1 only to shine forth    
again about the beginning of the last   

century with more than its original     
brightness2 and since then it has but   
increased in lustre with the course of  
time2 and for centuries to come1 7,i    
speak it with the greatest confidence17 
it will1 like an ,alpine avalanche1     
continue to gather strength at every    
moment of its progress4 ,of the future  
extension of his fame1 the enthusiasm   
with which he was naturalized in        
,germany1 the moment that he was known1 
is a significant earnest4 ,in the ,south
 of ,europe1 ,footnote3 ,this difficulty
 extends also to ,france2 for it must   
not be supposed that a literal          
translation can ever be a faithful one4 
,mrs4 ,montague has done enough to prove
 how wretchedly1 even ,voltaire1 in his 
rhymeless ,alexandrines1 has translated 
a few passages from ,hamlet and the     
first act of ,julius ,caesar4 his       
language1 and the great difficulty of   
translating him with fidelity1 will be1 
perhaps1 an invincible obstacle to his  
general diffusion4 ,in ,england1 the    

greatest actors vie with each other in  
the impersonation of his characters2 the
 printers in splendid editions of his   
works2 and the painters in transferring 
his scenes to the canvas4 ,like ,dante1 
,shakspeare has received the perhaps    
indispensable but still cumbersome      
honour of being treated like a classical
 author of antiquity4 ,the oldest       
editions have been carefully collated1  
and where the readings seemed corrupt1  
many corrections have been suggested2   
and the whole literature of his age has 
been drawn forth from the oblivion to   
which it had been consigned1 for the    
sole purpose of explaining the phrases1 
and illustrating the allusions of       
,shakspeare4 ,commentators have         
succeeded one another in such number1   
that their labours alone1 with the      
critical controversies to which they    
have given rise1 constitute of          
themselves no inconsiderable library4   
,these labours deserve both our praise  
and gratitude2 and more especially the  

historical investigations into the      
sources from which ,shakspeare drew the 
materials of his plays1 and also into   
the previous and contemporary state of  
the ,english stage1 and other kindred   
subjects of inquiry4 ,with respect1     
however1 to their merely philological   
criticisms1 ,i am frequently compelled  
to differ from the commentators2 and    
where1 too1 considering him simply as a 
poet1 they endeavour to enter into his  
views and to decide upon his merits1 ,i 
must separate myself from them entirely4
 ,i have hardly ever found either truth 
or profundity in their remarks2 and     
these critics seem to me to be but      
stammering interpreters of the general  
and almost idolatrous admiration of his 
countrymen4 ,there may be people in     
,england who entertain the same views of
 them with myself1 at least it is a     
well- known fact that a satirical poet  
has represented ,shakspeare1 under the  
hands of his commentators1 by ,actaeon  
worried to death by his own dogs2 and1  

following up the story of ,ovid1        
designated a female writer on the great 
poet as the snarling ,lycisca4  ,we     
shall endeavour1 in the first place1 to 
remove some of these false views1 in    
order to clear the way for our own      
homage1 that we may thereupon offer it  
the more freely without let or          
hindrance4  ,from all the accounts of   
,shakspeare which have come down to us1 
it is clear that his contemporaries knew
 well the treasure they possessed in    
him2 and that they felt and understood  
him better than most of those who       
succeeded him4 ,in those days a work was
 generally ushered into the world with  
,commendatory ,verses2 and one of these1
 prefixed to an early edition of        
,shakspeare1 by an unknown author1      
contains some of the most beautiful and 
happy lines that ever were applied to   
any poet ,footnote3 ,it begins with the 
words3 ,a mind reflecting ages past1 and
 is subscribed1 ,i4,m4,s44 ,an idea1    
however1 soon became prevalent that     

,shakspeare was a rude and wild genius1 
who poured forth at random1 and without 
aim or object1 his unconnected          
compositions4 ,ben ,jonson1 a younger   
contemporary and rival of ,shakspeare1  
who laboured in the sweat of his brow1  
but with no great success1 to expel the 
romantic drama from the ,english stage1 
and to form it on the model of the      
ancients1 gave it as his opinion that   
,shakspeare did not blot enough1 and    
that as he did not possess much         
school-learning1 he owed more to nature 
than to art4 ,the learned1 and sometimes
 rather pedantic ,milton was also of    
this opinion1 when he says1    ,our     
sweetest ,shakspeare1 fancy's child1    
,warbles his native wood-notes wild4    
,yet it is highly honourable to ,milton1
 that the sweetness of ,shakspeare1 the 
quality which of all others has been    
least allowed1 was felt and acknowledged
 by him4 ,the modern editors1 both in   
their prefaces1 which may be considered 
as so many rhetorical exercises in      

praise of the poet1 and in their remarks
 on separate passages1 go still farther4
 ,judging them by principles which are  
not applicable to them1 not only do they
 admit the irregularity of his pieces1  
but on occasions they accuse him of     
bombast1 of a confused1 ungrammatical1  
and conceited mode of writing1 and even 
of the most contemptible buffoonery4    
,pope asserts that he wrote both better 
and worse than any other man4 ,all the  
scenes and passages which did not square
 with the littleness of his own taste1  
he wished to place to the account of    
interpolating players2 and he was in the
 right road1 had his opinion been taken1
 of giving us a miserable dole of a     
mangled ,shakspeare4 ,it is1 therefore1 
not to be wondered at if foreigners1    
with the exception of the ,germans      
latterly1 have1 in their ignorance of   
him1 even improved upon these opinions4 
,footnote3 ,lessing was the first to    
speak of ,shakspeare in a becoming tone2
 but he said unfortunately a great deal 

too little of him1 as in the time when  
he wrote the ,dramaturgie this poet had 
not yet appeared on our stage4 ,since   
that time he has been more particularly 
noticed by ,herder in the ,bltter von   
deutscher ,art und ,kunst2 ,goethe1 in  
,wilhelm ,meister2 and ,tieck1 in       
,letters on ,shakspeare 7,poetisches    
,journal1 #ahjj71 which break off1      
however1 almost at the commencement44   
,they speak in general of ,shakspeare's 
plays as monstrous productions1 which   
could only have been given to the world 
by a disordered imagination in a        
barbarous age2 and ,voltaire crowns the 
whole with more than usual assurance1   
when he observes that ,hamlet1 the      
profound master- piece of the           
philosophical poet1 seems the work of a 
drunken savage4 ,that foreigners1 and in
 particular ,frenchmen1 who ordinarily  
speak the most strange language of      
antiquity and the middle ages1 as if    
cannibalism had only been put an end to 
in ,europe by ,louis ,,xiv4 should      

entertain this opinion of ,shakspeare1  
might be pardonable2 but that           
,englishmen should join in calumniating 
that glorious epoch of their history1   
,footnote3 ,the ,english work with which
 foreigners of every country are perhaps
 best acquainted is ,hume's ,history2   
and there we have a most unjustifiable  
account both of ,shakspeare and his age4
 ,born in a rude age1 and educated in   
the lowest manner1 without any          
instruction either from the world or    
from books4 ,how could a man of ,hume's 
acuteness suppose for a moment that a   
poet1 whose characters display such an  
intimate acquaintance with life1 who1 as
 an actor and manager of a theatre1 must
 have come in contact with all          
descriptions of individuals1 had no     
instruction from the world8 ,but this is
 not the worst2 he goes even so far as  
to say1 a reasonable propriety of       
thought he cannot for any time uphold4  
,this is nearly as offensive as         
,voltaire's drunken savage4--,,trans4   

which laid the foundation of their      
national greatness1 is incomprehensible4
 ,shakspeare flourished and wrote in the
 last half of the reign of ,queen       
,elizabeth and first half of that of    
,james ,i42 and1 consequently1 under    
monarchs who were learned themselves1   
and held literature in honour4 ,the     
policy of modern ,europe1 by which the  
relations of its different states have  
been so variously interwoven with each  
other1 commenced a century before4 ,the 
cause of the ,protestants was decided by
 the accession of ,elizabeth to the     
throne2 and the attachment to the       
ancient belief cannot therefore be urged
 as a proof of the prevailing darkness4 
,such was the zeal for the study of the 
ancients1 that even court ladies1 and   
the queen herself1 were acquainted with 
,latin and ,greek1 and taught even to   
speak the former2 a degree of knowledge 
which we should in vain seek for in the 
courts of ,europe at the present day4   
,the trade and navigation which the     

,english carried on with all the four   
quarters of the world1 made them        
acquainted with the customs and mental  
productions of other nations2 and it    
would appear that they were then more   
indulgent to foreign manners than they  
are in the present day4 ,italy had      
already produced all nearly that still  
distinguishes her literature1 and in    
,england translations in verse were     
diligently1 and even successfully1      
executed from the ,italian4 ,spanish    
literature also was not unknown1 for it 
is certain that ,don ,quixote was read  
in ,england soon after its first        
appearance4 ,bacon1 the founder of      
modern experimental philosophy1 and of  
whom it may be said1 that he carried in 
his pocket all that even in this        
eighteenth century merits the name of   
philosophy1 was a contemporary of       
,shakspeare4 ,his fame1 as a writer1 did
 not1 indeed1 break forth into its glory
 till after his death2 but what a number
 of ideas must have been in circulation 

before such an author could arise6 ,many
 branches of human knowledge have1 since
 that time1 been more extensively       
cultivated1 but such branches as are    
totally unproductive to poetry3         
chemistry1 mechanics1 manufactures1 and 
rural and political economy1 will never 
enable a man to become a poet4 ,i have  
elsewhere ,footnote3 ,in my ,lectures on
 the ,spirit of the ,age4 examined into 
the pretensions of modern enlightenment1
 as it is called1 which looks with such 
contempt on all preceding ages2 ,i have 
shown that at bottom it is all little1  
superficial1 and unsubstantial4 ,the    
pride of what has been called the       
existing maturity of human intensity1   
has come to a miserable end2 and the    
structures erected by those pedagogues  
of the human race have fallen to pieces 
like the baby-houses of children4  ,with
 regard to the tone of society in       
,shakspeare's day1 it is necessary to   
remark that there is a wide difference  
between true mental cultivation and what

 is called polish4 ,that artificial     
polish which puts an end to every thing 
like free original communication1 and   
subjects all intercourse to the insipid 
uniformity of certain rules1 was        
undoubtedly wholly unknown to the age of
 ,shakspeare1 as in a great measure it  
still is at the present day in ,england4
 ,it possessed1 on the other hand1 a    
fulness of healthy vigour1 which showed 
itself always with boldness1 and        
sometimes also with petulance4 ,the     
spirit of chivalry was not yet wholly   
extinct1 and a queen1 who was far more  
jealous in exacting homage to her sex   
than to her throne1 and who1 with her   
determination1 wisdom1 and magnanimity1 
was in fact1 well qualified to inspire  
the minds of her subjects with an ardent
 enthusiasm1 inflamed that spirit to the
 noblest love of glory and renown4 ,the 
feudal independence also still survived 
in some measure2 the nobility vied with 
each other in splendour of dress and    
number of retinue1 and every great lord 

had a sort of small court of his own4   
,the distinction of ranks was as yet    
strongly marked3 a state of things      
ardently to be desired by the dramatic  
poet4 ,in conversation they took        
pleasure in quick and unexpected        
answers2 and the witty sally passed     
rapidly like a ball from mouth to mouth1
 till the merry game could no longer be 
kept up4 ,this1 and the abuse of the    
play on words1 7of which ,king ,james   
was himself very fond1 and we need not  
therefore wonder at the universality of 
the mode17 may1 doubtless1 be considered
 as instances of a bad taste2 but to    
take them for symptoms of rudeness and  
barbarity1 is not less absurd than to   
infer the poverty of a people from their
 luxurious extravagance4 ,these strained
 repartees are frequently employed by   
,shakspeare1 with the view of painting  
the actual tone of the society in his   
day2 it does not1 however1 follow1 that 
they met with his approbation2 on the   
contrary1 it clearly appears that he    

held them in derision4 ,hamlet says1 in 
the scene with the ,gravedigger1 ,by the
 ,lord1 ,horatio1 these three years ,i  
have taken note of it3 the age is grown 
so picked1 that the toe of the peasant  
comes so near the heel of the courtier1 
he galls his kibe4 ,and ,lorenzo1 in the
 ,merchant of ,venice1 alluding to      
,launcelot3    ,o dear discretion1 how  
his words are suited6   ,the fool hath  
planted in his memory   ,an army of good
 words3 and ,i do know   ,a many fools1 
that stand in better place1   ,garnish'd
 like him1 that for a tricksy word4     
,defy the matter4  ,besides1            
,shakspeare1 in a thousand places1 lays 
great and marked stress on correct and  
refined tone of society1 and lashes     
every deviation from it1 whether of     
boorishness or affected foppery2 not    
only does he give admirable discourses  
on it1 but he represents it in all its  
shades and modifications by rank1 age1  
or sex4 ,what foundation is there1 then1
 for the alleged barbarity of his age8  

,its offences against propriety8 ,but if
 this is to be admitted as a test1 then 
the ages of ,pericles and ,augustus must
 also be described as rude and          
uncultivated2 for ,aristophanes and     
,horace1 who both were considered as    
models of urbanity1 display1 at times1  
the coarsest indelicacy4 ,on this       
subject1 the diversity in the moral     
feeling of ages depends on other causes4
 ,shakspeare1 it is true1 sometimes     
introduces us to improper company2 at   
others1 he suffers ambiguous expressions
 to escape in the presence of women1 and
 even from women themselves4 ,this      
species of petulance was probably not   
then unusual4 ,he certainly did not     
indulge in it merely to please the      
multitude1 for in many of his pieces    
there is not the slightest trace of this
 sort to be found3 and in what virgin   
purity are many of his female parts     
worked out6 ,when we see the liberties  
taken by other dramatic poets in        
,england in his time1 and even much     

later1 we must account him comparatively
 chaste and moral4 ,neither must we     
overlook certain circumstances in the   
existing state of the theatre4 ,the     
female parts were not acted by women1   
but by boys2 and no person of the fair  
sex appeared in the theatre without a   
mask4 ,under such a carnival disguise1  
much might be heard by them1 and much   
might be ventured to be said in their   
presence1 which in other circumstances  
would have been absolutely improper4 ,it
 is certainly to be wished that decency 
should be observed on all public        
occasions1 and consequently also on the 
stage4 ,but even in this it is possible 
to go too far4 ,that carping            
censoriousness which scents out impurity
 in every bold sally1 is1 at best1 but  
an ambiguous criterion of purity of     
morals2 and beneath this hypocritical   
guise there often lurks the             
consciousness of an impure imagination4 
,the determination to tolerate nothing  
which has the least reference to the    

sensual relation between the sexes1 may 
be carried to a pitch extremely         
oppressive to a dramatic poet1 and      
highly prejudicial to the boldness and  
freedom of his compositions4 ,if such   
considerations were to be attended to1  
many of the happiest parts of           
,shakspeare's plays1 for example1 in    
,measure for ,measure1 and ,all's ,well 
that ,ends ,well1 which1 nevertheless1  
are handled with a due regard to        
decency1 must be set aside as sinning   
against this would-be propriety4  ,had  
no other monument of the age of         
,elizabeth come down to us than the     
works of ,shakspeare1 ,i should1 from   
them alone1 have formed the most        
favourable idea of its state of social  
culture and enlightenment4 ,when those  
who look through such strange spectacles
 as to see nothing in them but rudeness 
and barbarity cannot deny what ,i have  
now historically proved1 they are       
usually driven to this last resource1   
and demand1 ,what has ,shakspeare to do 

with the mental culture of his age8 ,he 
had no share in it4 ,born in an inferior
 rank1 ignorant and uneducated1 he      
passed his life in low society1 and     
laboured to please a vulgar audience for
 his bread1 without ever dreaming of    
fame or posterity4  ,in all this there  
is not a single word of truth1 though it
 has been repeated a thousand times4 ,it
 is true we know very little of the     
poet's life2 and what we do know        
consists for the most part of raked-up  
and chiefly suspicious anecdotes1 of    
such a description nearly as those which
 are told at inns to inquisitive        
strangers1 who visit the birthplace or  
neighbourhood of a celebrated man4      
,within a very recent period some       
original documents have been brought to 
light1 and among them his will1 which   
give us a peep into his family concerns4
 ,it betrays more than ordinary         
deficiency of critical acumen in        
,shakspeare's commentators1 that none of
 them1 so far as we know1 have ever     

thought of availing themselves of his   
sonnets for tracing the circumstances of
 his life4 ,these sonnets paint most    
unequivocally the actual situation and  
sentiments of the poet2 they make us    
acquainted with the passions of the man2
 they even contain remarkable           
confessions of his youthful errors4     
,shakspeare's father was a man of       
property1 whose ancestors had held the  
office of alderman and bailiff in       
,stratford1 and in a diploma from the   
,heralds' ,office for the renewal or    
confirmation of his coat of arms1 he is 
styled gentleman4 ,our poet1 the oldest 
son but third child1 could not1 it is   
true1 receive an academical education1  
as he married when hardly eighteen1     
probably from mere family               
considerations4 ,this retired and       
unnoticed life he continued to lead but 
a few years2 and he was either enticed  
to ,london from wearisomeness of his    
situation1 or banished from home1 as it 
is said1 in consequence of his          

irregularities4 ,there he assumed the   
profession of a player1 which he        
considered at first as a degradation1   
principally1 perhaps1 because of the    
wild excesses ,footnote3 ,in one of his 
sonnets he says3   ,o1 for my sake do   
you with fortune chide1   ,the guilty   
goddess of my harmless deeds1   ,that   
did not better for my life provide1     
,than public means which public manners 
breeds4 ,and in the following3--   ,your
 love and pity doth the impression fill1
   ,which vulgar scandal stamp'd upon my
 brow4 into which he was seduced by the 
example of his comrades4 ,it is         
extremely probable1 that the poetical   
fame which in the progress of his career
 he afterwards acquired1 greatly        
contributed to ennoble the stage1 and to
 bring the player's profession into     
better repute4 ,even at a very early age
 he endeavoured to distinguish himself  
as a poet in other walks than those of  
the stage1 as is proved by his juvenile 
poems of ,adonis and ,lucrece4 ,he      

quickly rose to be a sharer or joint    
proprietor1 and also manager of the     
theatre for which he wrote4 ,that he was
 not admitted to the society of persons 
of distinction is altogether incredible4
 ,not to mention many others1 he found a
 liberal friend and kind patron in the  
,earl of ,southampton1 the friend of the
 unfortunate ,essex4 ,his pieces were   
not only the delight of the great       
public1 but also in great favour at     
court3 the two monarchs under whose     
reigns he wrote were1 according to the  
testimony of a contemporary1 quite taken
 with him ,footnote3 ,ben ,jonson3--    
,and make those flights upon the banks  
of ,thames1   ,that so did take ,eliza  
and our ,james64 ,many were acted at    
court2 and ,elizabeth appears herself to
 have commanded the writing of more than
 one to be acted at her court festivals4
 ,king ,james1 it is well known1        
honoured ,shakspeare so far as to write 
to him with his own hand4 ,all this     
looks very unlike either contempt or    

banishment into the obscurity of a low  
circle4 ,by his labours as a poet1      
player1 and stage-manager1 ,shakspeare  
acquired a considerable property1 which1
 in the last years of his too short     
life1 he enjoyed in his native town in  
retirement and in the society of a      
beloved daughter4 ,immediately after his
 death a monument was erected over his  
grave1 which may be considered sumptuous
 for those times4  ,in the midst of such
 brilliant success1 and with such       
distinguished proofs of respect and     
honour from his contemporaries1 it would
 be singular indeed if ,shakspeare1     
notwithstanding the modesty of a great  
mind1 which he certainly possessed in a 
peculiar degree1 should never have      
dreamed of posthumous fame4 ,as a       
profound thinker he had pretty          
accurately taken the measure of the     
circle of human capabilities1 and he    
could say to himself with confidence1   
that many of his productions would not  
easily be surpassed4 ,what foundation   

then is there for the contrary          
assertion1 which would degrade the      
immortal artist to the situation of a   
daily labourer for a rude               
multitude8--,merely this1 that he       
himself published no edition of his     
whole works4 ,we do not reflect that a  
poet1 always accustomed to labour       
immediately for the stage1 who has often
 enjoyed the triumph of overpowering    
assembled crowds of spectators1 and     
drawing from them the most tumultuous   
applause1 who the while was not         
dependent on the caprice of crotchety   
stage directors1 but left to his own    
discretion to select and determine the  
mode of theatrical representation1      
naturally cares much less for the closet
 of the solitary reader4 ,during the    
first formation of a national theatre1  
more especially1 we find frequent       
examples of such indifference4 ,of the  
almost innumerable pieces of ,lope de   
,vega1 many undoubtedly were never      
printed1 and are consequently lost2 and 

,cervantes did not print his earlier    
dramas1 though he certainly boasts of   
them as meritorious works4 ,as          
,shakspeare1 on his retiring from the   
theatre1 left his manuscripts behind    
with his fellow-managers1 he may have   
relied on theatrical tradition for      
handing them down to posterity1 which   
would indeed have been sufficient for   
that purpose if the closing of the      
theatres1 under the tyrannical          
intolerance of the ,puritans1 had not   
interrupted the natural order of things4
 ,we know1 besides1 that the poets used 
then to sell the exclusive copyright of 
their pieces to the theatre ,footnote3  
,this is perhaps not uncommon still in  
some countries4 ,the ,venetian ,director
 ,medebach1 for whose company many of   
,goldoni's ,comedies were composed1     
claimed an exclusive right to           
them4--,,trans43 it is therefore not    
improbable that the right of property in
 his unprinted pieces was no longer     
vested in ,shakspeare1 or had not at    

least yet reverted to him4 ,his         
fellow-managers entered on the          
publication seven years after his death 
7which probably cut short his own       
intention17 as it would appear on their 
own account and for their own advantage4
     ,,lecture ,,xxiii4  ,ignorance or  
,learning of ,shakspeare--,costume as   
observed by ,shakspeare1 and how far    
necessary1 or may be dispensed with in  
the ,drama--,shakspeare the greatest    
drawer of ,character--,vindication of   
the genuineness of his pathos--,play on 
words--,moral delicacy--,irony--,mixture
 of the ,tragic and ,comic--,the part of
 the ,fool or ,clown--,shakspeare's     
,language and ,versification4   ,our    
poet's want of scholarship has been the 
subject of endless controversy1 and yet 
it is surely a very easy matter to      
decide4 ,shakspeare was poor in dead    
school-cram1 but he possessed a rich    
treasury of living and intuitive        
knowledge4 ,he knew a little ,latin1 and
 even something of ,greek1 though it may

 be not enough to read with ease the    
writers in the original4 ,with modern   
languages also1 the ,french and         
,italian1 he had1 perhaps1 but a        
superficial acquaintance4 ,the general  
direction of his mind was not to the    
collection of words but of facts4 ,with 
,english books1 whether original or     
translated1 he was extensively          
acquainted3 we may safely affirm that he
 had read all that his native language  
and literature then contained that could
 be of any use to him in his poetical   
avocations4 ,he was sufficiently        
intimate with mythology to employ it1 in
 the only manner he could wish1 in the  
way of symbolical ornament4 ,he had     
formed a correct notion of the spirit of
 ,ancient ,history1 and more            
particularly of that of the ,romans2 and
 the history of his own country was     
familiar to him even in detail4         
,fortunately for him it had not as yet  
been treated in a diplomatic and        
pragmatic spirit1 but merely in the     

chronicle-style2 in other words1 it had 
not yet assumed the appearance of dry   
investigations respecting the           
development of political relations1     
diplomatic negotiations1 finances1 c41  
but exhibited a visible image of the    
life and movement of an age prolific of 
great deeds4 ,shakspeare1 moreover1 was 
a nice observer of nature2 he knew the  
technical language of mechanics and     
artisans2 he seems to have been well    
travelled in the interior of his own    
country1 while of others he inquired    
diligently of travelled navigators      
respecting their peculiarity of climate 
and customs4 ,he thus became accurately 
acquainted with all the popular usages1 
opinions1 and traditions which could be 
of use in poetry4  ,the proofs of his   
ignorance1 on which the greatest stress 
is laid1 are a few geographical blunders
 and anachronisms4 ,because in a comedy 
founded on an earlier tale1 he makes    
ships visit ,bohemia1 he has been the   
subject of much laughter4 ,but ,i       

conceive that we should be very unjust  
towards him1 were we to conclude that he
 did not1 as well as ourselves1 possess 
the useful but by no means difficult    
knowledge that ,bohemia is nowhere      
bounded by the sea4 ,he could never1 in 
that case1 have looked into a map of    
,germany1 who yet describes elsewhere1  
with great accuracy1 the maps of both   
,indies1 together with the discoveries  
of the latest navigators4 ,footnote3    
,twelfth ,night1 or ,what ,you          
,will--,act iii4 scene ii4 ,in such     
matters ,shakspeare is only faithful to 
the details of the domestic stories4 ,in
 the novels on which he worked1 he      
avoided disturbing the associations of  
his audience1 to whom they were known1  
by novelties--the correction of errors  
in secondary and unimportant            
particulars4 ,the more wonderful the    
story1 the more it ranged in a purely   
poetical region1 which he transfers at  
will to an indefinite distance4 ,these  
plays1 whatever names they bear1 take   

place in the true land of romance1 and  
in the very century of wonderful love   
stories4 ,he knew well that in the      
forest of ,ardennes there were neither  
the lions and serpents of the ,torrid   
,zone1 nor the shepherdesses of         
,arcadia3 but he transferred both to it1
 ,footnote3 ,as ,you ,like ,it4 because 
the design and import of his picture    
required them4 ,here he considered      
himself entitled to take the greatest   
liberties4 ,he had not to do with a     
hair-splitting1 hypercritical age like  
ours1 which is always seeking in poetry 
for something else than poetry2 his     
audience entered the theatre1 not to    
learn true chronology1 geography1 and   
natural history1 but to witness a vivid 
exhibition4 ,i will undertake to prove  
that ,shakspeare's anachronisms are1 for
 the most part1 committed of set purpose
 and deliberately4 ,it was frequently of
 importance to him to move the exhibited
 subject out of the background of time1 
and bring it quite near us4 ,hence in   

,hamlet1 though avowedly an old         
,northern story1 there runs a tone of   
modish society1 and in every respect the
 costume of the most recent period4     
,without those circumstantialities it   
would not have been allowable to make a 
philosophical inquirer of ,hamlet1 on   
which trait1 however1 the meaning of the
 whole is made to rest4 ,on that account
 he mentions his education at a         
university1 though1 in the age of the   
true ,hamlet of history1 universities   
were not in existence4 ,he makes him    
study at ,wittenberg1 and no selection  
of a place could have been more         
suitable4 ,the name was very popular3   
the story of ,dr4 ,faustus of           
,wittenberg had made it well known2 it  
was of particular celebrity in          
protestant ,england1 as ,luther had     
taught and written there shortly before1
 and the very name must have immediately
 suggested the idea of freedom in       
thinking4 ,i cannot oven consider it an 
anachronism that ,richard the ,third    

should speak of ,macchiavel4 ,the word  
is here used altogether proverbially3   
the contents1 at least1 of the book     
entitled ,of the ,prince 7,del          
,principe17 have been in existence ever 
since the existence of tyrants2         
,macchiavel was merely the first to     
commit them to writing4  ,that          
,shakspeare has accurately hit the      
essential costume1 namely1 the spirit of
 ages and nations1 is at least          
acknowledged generally by the ,english  
critics2 but many sins against external 
costume may be easily remarked4 ,but    
here it is necessary to bear in mind    
that the ,roman pieces were acted upon  
the stage of that day in the ,european  
dress4 ,this was1 it is true1 still     
grand and splendid1 not so silly and    
tasteless as it became towards the end  
of the seventeenth century4 7,brutus and
 ,cassius appeared in the ,spanish      
cloak2 they wore1 quite contrary to the 
,roman custom1 the sword by their side  
in time of peace1 and1 according to the 

testimony of an eye witness1 ,footnote3 
,in one of the commendatory poems in the
 first folio edition3   ,and on the     
stage at half sword parley were         
,brutus and ,cassius4 it was1 in the    
dialogue where ,brutus stimulates       
,cassius to the conspiracy1 drawn1 as if
 involuntarily1 half out of the sheath47
 ,this does in no way agree with our way
 of thinking3 we are not content without
 the toga4 ,the present1 perhaps1 is not
 an inappropriate place for a few       
general observations on costume1        
considered with reference to art4 ,it   
has never been more accurately observed 
than in the present day2 art has become 
a slop-shop for pedantic antiquities4   
,this is because we live in a learned   
and critical1 but by no means poetical  
age4 ,the ancients before us used1 when 
they had to represent the religions of  
other nations1 which deviated very much 
from their own1 to bring them into      
conformity with the ,greek mythology4   
,in ,sculpture1 again1 the same dress1  

namely1 the ,phrygian1 was adopted1 once
 for all1 for every barbaric tribe4 ,not
 that they did not know that there were 
as many different dresses as nations2   
but in art they merely wished to        
acknowledge the great contrast between  
barbarian and civilized3 and this1 they 
thought1 was rendered most strikingly   
apparent in the ,phrygian garb4 ,the    
earlier ,christian painters represent   
the ,saviour1 the ,virgin ,mary1 the    
,patriarchs1 and the ,apostles in an    
ideal dress2 but the subordinate actors 
or spectators of the action1 in the     
dresses of their own nation and age4    
,here they were guided by a correct     
feeling3 the mysterious and sacred ought
 to be kept at an awe- inspiring        
distance1 but the human cannot be       
rightly understood if seen without its  
usual accompaniments4 ,in the middle    
ages all heroical stories of antiquity1 
from ,theseus and ,achilles down to     
,alexander1 were metamorphosed into true
 tales of chivalry4 ,what was related to

 themselves spoke alone an intelligible 
language to them2 of differences and    
distinctions they did not care to know4 
,in an old manuscript of the ,iliad1 ,i 
saw a miniature illumination            
representing ,hector's funeral          
procession1 where the coffin is hung    
with noble coats of arms1 and carried   
into a ,gothic church4 ,it is easy to   
make merry with this piece of           
simplicity1 but a reflecting mind will  
see the subject in a very different     
light4 ,a powerful consciousness of the 
universal validity and the solid        
permanency of their own manner of being1
 an undoubting conviction that it has   
always so been and will ever continue so
 to be in the world3 these feelings of  
our ancestors were symptoms of a fresh  
fulness of life2 they were the marrow of
 action in reality as well as in        
fiction4 ,their plain and affectionate  
attachment to every thing around them1  
handed down from their fathers1 is by no
 means to be confounded with the        

obstreperous conceit of ages of         
mannerism1 who1 out of vanity1 introduce
 the fleeting modes and fashion of the  
day into art1 because to them everything
 like noble simplicity seems boorish and
 rude4 ,the latter impropriety is now   
abolished3 but1 on the other hand1 our  
poets and artists1 if they would hope   
for our approbation1 must1 like         
servants1 wear the livery of distant    
centuries and foreign nations4 ,we are  
everywhere at home except at home4 ,we  
do ourselves the justice to allow that  
the present mode of dressing1 forms of  
politeness1 c41 are altogether          
unpoetical1 and art is therefore obliged
 to beg1 as an alms1 a poetical costume 
from the antiquaries4 ,to that simple   
way of thinking1 which is merely        
attentive to the inward truth of the    
composition1 without stumbling at       
anachronisms1 or other external         
inconsistencies1 we cannot1 alas6 now   
return2 but we must envy the poets to   
whom it offered itself2 it allowed them 

a great breadth and freedom in the      
handling of their subject4  ,many things
 in ,shakspeare must be judged of       
according to the above principles1      
respecting the difference between the   
essential and the merely learned        
costume4 ,they will also in their       
measure admit of an application to      
,calderon4  ,so much with respect to the
 spirit of the age in which ,shakspeare 
lived1 and his peculiar mental culture  
and knowledge4 ,to me he appears a      
profound artist1 and not a blind and    
wildly luxuriant genius4 ,i consider1   
generally speaking1 all that has been   
said on the subject a mere fable1 a     
blind and extravagant error4 ,in other  
arts the assertion refutes itself2 for  
in them acquired knowledge is an        
indispensable condition of clever       
execution4 ,but even in such poets1 as  
are usually given out as careless pupils
 of nature1 devoid of art or school     
discipline1 ,i have always found1 on a  
nearer consideration of the works of    

real excellence they may have produced1 
even a high cultivation of the mental   
powers1 practice in art1 and views both 
worthy in themselves and maturely       
considered4 ,this applies to ,homer as  
well as to ,dante4 ,the activity of     
genius is1 it is true1 natural to it1   
and1 in a certain sense1 unconscious2   
and1 consequently1 the person who       
possesses it is not always at the moment
 able to render an account of the course
 which he may have pursued2 but it by no
 means follows1 that the thinking power 
had not a great share in it4 ,it is from
 the very rapidity and certainty of the 
mental process1 from the utmost         
clearness of understanding1 that        
thinking in a poet is not perceived as  
something abstracted1 does not wear the 
appearance of reflex meditation4 ,that  
notion of poetical inspiration1 which   
many lyrical poets have brought into    
circulation1 as if they were not in     
their senses1 and like ,pythia1 when    
possessed by the divinity1 delivered    

oracles unintelligible to themselves    
--this notion1 7a mere lyrical          
invention17 is least of all applicable  
to dramatic composition1 one of the most
 thoughtful productions of the human    
mind4 ,it is admitted that ,shakspeare  
has reflected1 and deeply reflected1 on 
character and passion1 on the progress  
of events and human destinies1 on the   
human constitution1 on all the things   
and relations of the world2 this is an  
admission which must be made1 for one   
alone of thousands of his maxims would  
be a sufficient refutation of whoever   
should attempt to deny it4 ,so that it  
was only for the structure of his own   
pieces that he had no thought to spare8 
,this he left to the dominion of chance1
 which blew together the atoms of       
,epicurus4 ,but supposing that1 devoid  
of any higher ambition to approve       
himself to judicious critics and        
posterity1 and wanting in that love of  
art which longs for self-satisfaction in
 the perfection of its works1 he had    

merely laboured to please the unlettered
 crowd2 still this very object alone and
 the pursuit of theatrical effect1 would
 have led him to bestow attention to the
 structure and adherence of his pieces4 
,for does not the impression of a drama 
depend in an especial manner on the     
relation of the parts to each other8    
,and1 however beautiful a scene may be  
in itself1 if yet it be at variance with
 what the spectators have been led to   
expect in its particular place1 so as to
 destroy the interest which they had    
hitherto felt1 will it not be at once   
reprobated by all who possess plain     
common sense1 and give themselves up to 
nature8 ,the comic intermixtures may be 
considered merely as a sort of          
interlude1 designed to relieve the      
straining of the mind after the stretch 
of the more serious parts1 so long as no
 better purpose can be found in them2   
but in the progress of the main action1 
in the concatenation of the events1 the 
poet must1 if possible1 display even    

more expenditure of thought than in the 
composition of individual character and 
situations1 otherwise he would be like  
the conductor of a puppet-show who has  
entangled his wires1 so that the puppets
 receive from their mechanism quite     
different movements from those which he 
actually intended4  ,the ,english       
critics are unanimous in their praise of
 the truth and uniform consistency of   
his characters1 of his heartrending     
pathos1 and his comic wit4 ,moreover1   
they extol the beauty and sublimity of  
his separate descriptions1 images1 and  
expressions4 ,this last is the most     
superficial and cheap mode of           
criticising works of art4 ,johnson      
compares him who should endeavour to    
recommend this poet by passages         
unconnectedly torn from his works1 to   
the pedant in ,hierocles1 who exhibited 
a brick as a sample of his house4 ,and  
yet how little1 and how very            
unsatisfactorily does he himself speak  
of the pieces considered as a whole6    

,let any man1 for instance1 bring       
together the short characters which he  
gives at the close of each play1 and see
 if the aggregate will amount to that   
sum of admiration which he himself1 at  
his outset1 has stated as the correct   
standard for the appreciation of the    
poet4 ,it was1 generally speaking1 the  
prevailing tendency of the time which   
preceded our own1 7and which has showed 
itself particularly in physical         
science17 to consider everything having 
life as a mere accumulation of dead     
parts1 to separate what exists only in  
connexion and cannot otherwise be       
conceived1 instead of penetrating to the
 central point and viewing all the parts
 as so many irradiations from it4 ,hence
 nothing is so rare as a critic who can 
elevate himself to the comprehensive    
contemplation of a work of art4         
,shakspeare's compositions1 from the    
very depth of purpose displayed in them1
 have been especially liable to the     
misfortune of being misunderstood4      

,besides1 this prosaic species of       
criticism requires always that the      
poetic form should he applied to the    
details of execution2 but when the plan 
of the piece is concerned1 it never     
looks for more than the logical         
connexion of causes and effects1 or some
 partial and trite moral by way of      
application2 and all that cannot be     
reconciled therewith is declared        
superfluous1 or even a pernicious       
appendage4 ,on these principles we must 
even strike out from the ,greek         
tragedies most of the choral songs1     
which also contribute nothing to the    
development of the action1 but are      
merely an harmonious echo of the        
impressions the poet aims at conveying4 
,in this they altogether mistake the    
rights of poetry and the nature of the  
romantic drama1 which1 for the very     
reason that it is and ought to be       
picturesque1 requires richer            
accompaniments and contrasts for its    
main groups4 ,in all ,art and ,poetry1  

but more especially in the romantic1 the
 ,fancy lays claims to be considered as 
an independent mental power governed    
according to its own laws4  ,in an essay
 on ,romeo and ,juliet1 ,footnote3 ,in  
the first volume of ,charakteristiken   
und ,kritiken1 published by my brother  
and myself4 written a number of years   
ago1 ,i went through the whole of the   
scenes in their order1 and demonstrated 
the inward necessity of each with       
reference to the whole2 ,i showed why   
such a particular circle of characters  
and relations was placed around the two 
lovers2 ,i explained the signification  
of the mirth here and there scattered1  
and justified the use of the occasional 
heightening given to the poetical       
colours4 ,from all this it seemed to    
follow unquestionably1 that with the    
exception of a few witticisms1 now      
become unintelligible or foreign to the 
present taste1 7imitations of the tone  
of society of that day17 nothing could  
be taken away1 nothing added1 nothing   

otherwise arranged1 without mutilating  
and disfiguring the perfect work4 ,i    
would readily undertake to do the same  
for all the pieces of ,shakspeare's     
maturer years1 but to do this would     
require a separate book4 ,here ,i am    
reduced to confine my observations to   
the tracing his great designs with a    
rapid pencil2 but still ,i must         
previously be allowed to deliver my     
sentiments in a general manner on the   
subject of his most eminent             
peculiarities4  ,shakspeare's knowledge 
of mankind has become proverbial3 in    
this his superiority is so great1 that  
he has justly been called the master of 
the human heart4 ,a readiness to remark 
the mind's fainter and involuntary      
utterances1 and the power to express    
with certainty the meaning of these     
signs1 as determined by experience and  
reflection1 constitutes the observer of 
men2 but tacitly to draw from these     
still further conclusions1 and to       
arrange the separate observations       

according to grounds of probability1    
into a just and valid combination1 this1
 it may be said1 is to know men4 ,the   
distinguishing property of the dramatic 
poet who is great in characterization1  
is something altogether different here1 
and which1 7take it which way we will17 
either includes in it this readiness and
 this acuteness1 or dispenses with both4
 ,it is the capability of transporting  
himself so completely into every        
situation1 even the most unusual1 that  
he is enabled1 as plenipotentiary of the
 whole human race1 without particular   
instructions for each separate case1 to 
act and speak in the name of every      
individual4 ,it is the power of endowing
 the creatures of his imagination with  
such self-existent energy1 that they    
afterwards act in each conjuncture      
according to general laws of nature3 the
 poet1 in his dreams1 institutes1 as it 
were1 experiments which are received    
with as much authority as if they had   
been made on waking objects4 ,the       

inconceivable element herein1 and what  
moreover can never be learned1 is1 that 
the characters appear neither to do nor 
to say any thing on the spectator's     
account merely2 and yet that the poet   
simply1 by means of the exhibition1 and 
without any subsidiary explanation1     
communicates to his audience the gift of
 looking into the inmost recesses of    
their minds4 ,hence ,goethe has         
ingeniously compared ,shakspeare's      
characters to watches with crystalline  
plates and cases1 which1 while they     
point out the hours as correctly as     
other watches1 enable us at the same    
time to perceive the inward springs     
whereby all this is accomplished4       
,nothing1 however1 is more foreign to   
,shakspeare than a certain anatomical   
style of exhibition1 which laboriously  
enumerates all the motives by which a   
man is determined to act in this or that
 particular manner4 ,this rage of       
supplying motives1 the mania of so many 
modern historians1 might be carried at  

length to an extent which would abolish 
every thing like individuality1 and     
resolve all character into nothing but  
the effect of foreign or external1      
influences whereas we know that it often
 announces itself most decidedly in     
earliest infancy4 ,after all1 a man acts
 so because he is so4 ,and what each man
 is1 that ,shakspeare reveals to us most
 immediately3 he demands and obtains our
 belief1 even for what is singular and  
deviates from the ordinary course of    
nature4 ,never perhaps was there so     
comprehensive a talent for              
characterization as ,shakspeare4 ,it not
 only grasps every diversity of rank1   
age1 and sex1 down to the lispings of   
infancy2 not only do the king and the   
beggar1 the hero and the pickpocket1 the
 sage and the idiot1 speak and act with 
equal truthfulness2 not only does he    
transport himself to distant ages and   
foreign nations1 and portray with the   
greatest accuracy 7a few apparent       
violations of costume excepted7 the     

spirit of the ancient ,romans1 of the   
,french in the wars with the ,english1  
of the ,english themselves during a     
great part of their history1 of the     
,southern ,europeans 7in the serious    
part of many comedies71 the cultivated  
society of the day1 and the rude        
barbarism of a ,norman fore- time2 his  
human characters have not only such     
depth and individuality that they do not
 admit of being classed under common    
names1 and are inexhaustible even in    
conception3 no1 this ,prometheus not    
merely forms men1 he opens the gates of 
the magical world of spirits1 calls up  
the midnight ghost1 exhibits before us  
the witches with their unhallowed rites1
 peoples the air with sportive fairies  
and sylphs2 and these beings1 though    
existing only in the imagination1       
nevertheless possess such truth and     
consistency1 that even with such        
misshapen abortions as ,caliban1 he     
extorts the assenting conviction1 that  
were there such beings they would so    

conduct themselves4 ,in a word1 as he   
carries a bold and pregnant fancy into  
the kingdom of nature1 on the other     
hand1 he carries nature into the regions
 of fancy1 which lie beyond the confines
 of reality4 ,we are lost in            
astonishment at the close intimacy he   
brings us into with the extraordinary1  
the wonderful1 and the unheard-of4      
,pope and ,johnson appear strangely to  
contradict each other1 when the first   
says1 all the characters of ,shakspeare 
are individuals1 and the second1 they   
are species4 ,and yet perhaps these     
opinions may admit of reconciliation4   
,pope's expression is unquestionably the
 more correct4 ,a character which should
 be merely a personification of a naked 
general idea could neither exhibit any  
great depth nor any great variety4 ,the 
names of genera and species are well    
known to be merely auxiliaries for the  
understanding1 that we may embrace the  
infinite variety of nature in a certain 
order4 ,the characters which ,shakspeare

 has so thoroughly delineated have      
undoubtedly a number of individual      
peculiarities1 but at the same time they
 possess a significance which is not    
applicable to them alone3 they generally
 supply materials for a profound theory 
of their most prominent and             
distinguishing property4 ,but even with 
the above correction1 this opinion must 
still have its limitations4             
,characterization is merely one         
ingredient of the dramatic art1 and not 
dramatic poetry itself4 ,it would be    
improper in the extreme1 if the poet    
were to draw our attention to           
superfluous traits of character1 at a   
time when it ought to be his endeavour  
to produce other impressions4 ,whenever 
the musical or the fanciful             
preponderates1 the characteristical     
necessarily falls into the background4  
,hence many of the figures of           
,shakspeare exhibit merely external     
designations1 determined by the place   
which they occupy in the whole3 they are

 like secondary persons in a public     
procession1 to whose physiognomy we     
seldom pay much attention2 their only   
importance is derived from the solemnity
 of their dress and the duty in which   
they are engaged4 ,shakspeare's         
messengers1 for instance1 are for the   
most part mere messengers1 and yet not  
common1 but poetical messengers3 the    
messages which they have to bring is the
 soul which suggests to them their      
language4 ,other voices1 too1 are merely
 raised to pour forth these as melodious
 lamentations or rejoicings1 or to dwell
 in reflection on what has taken place2 
and in a serious drama without chorus   
this must always be more or less the    
case1 if we would not have it prosaical4
  ,if ,shakspeare deserves our          
admiration for his characters1 he is    
equally deserving of it for his         
exhibition of passion1 taking this word 
in its widest signification1 as         
including every mental condition1 every 
tone1 from indifference or familiar     

mirth to the wildest rage and despair4  
,he gives us the history of minds2 he   
lays open to us1 in a single word1 a    
whole series of their anterior states4  
,his passions do not stand at the same  
height1 from first to last1 as is the   
case with so many tragic poets1 who1 in 
the language of ,lessing1 are thorough  
masters of the legal style of love4 ,he 
paints1 with inimitable veracity1 the   
gradual advance from the first origin2  
he gives1 as ,lessing says1 a living    
picture of all the slight and secret    
artifices by which a feeling steals into
 our souls1 of all the imperceptible    
advantages which it there gains1 of all 
the stratagems by which it makes every  
other passion subservient to itself1    
till it becomes the sole tyrant of our  
desires and our aversions4 ,of all the  
poets1 perhaps1 he alone has portrayed  
the mental diseases1 melancholy1        
delirium1 lunacy1 with such             
inexpressible and1 in every respect1    
definite truth1 that the physician may  

enrich his observations from them in the
 same manner as from real cases4  ,and  
yet ,johnson has objected to ,shakspeare
 that his pathos is not always natural  
and free from affectation4 ,there are1  
it is true1 passages1 though            
comparatively speaking very few1 where  
his poetry exceeds the bounds of actual 
dialogue1 where a too soaring           
imagination1 a too luxuriant wit1       
rendered a complete dramatic            
forgetfulness of himself impossible4    
,with this exception1 the censure       
originated in a fanciless way of        
thinking1 to which everything appears   
unnatural that does not consort with its
 own tame insipidity4 ,hence an idea has
 been formed of simple and natural      
pathos1 which consists in exclamations  
destitute of imagery and nowise elevated
 above every-day life4 ,but energetical 
passions electrify all the mental       
powers1 and will consequently1 in       
highly-favoured natures1 give utterance 
to themselves in ingenious and          

figurative expressions4 ,it has been    
often remarked that indignation makes a 
man witty2 and as despair occasionally  
breaks out into laughter1 it may        
sometimes also give vent to itself in   
antithetical comparisons4  ,besides1 the
 rights of the poetical form have not   
been duly weighed4 ,shakspeare1 who was 
always sure of his power to excite1 when
 he wished1 sufficiently powerful       
emotions1 has occasionally1 by indulging
 in a freer play of fancy1 purposely    
tempered the impressions when too       
painful1 and immediately introduced a   
musical softening of our sympathy4      
,footnote3 ,a contemporary of the poet1 
the author of the already-noticed poem1 
7subscribed ,i4 ,m4 ,s417 tenderly felt 
this while he says--   ,yet so to temper
 passion1 that our ears   ,take pleasure
 in their pain1 and eyes in tears       
,both smile and weep4 ,he had not those 
rude ideas of his art which many moderns
 seem to have1 as if the poet1 like the 
clown in the proverb1 must strike twice 

on the same place4 ,an ancient          
rhetorician delivered a caution against 
dwelling too long on the excitation of  
pity2 for nothing1 he said1 dries so    
soon as tears2 and ,shakspeare acted    
conformably to this ingenious maxim     
without having learned it4 ,the         
paradoxical assertion of ,johnson that  
,shakspeare had a greater talent for    
comedy than tragedy1 and that in the    
latter he has frequently displayed an   
affected tone1 is scarcely deserving of 
lengthy notice4 ,for its refutation1 it 
is unnecessary to appeal to the great   
tragical compositions of the poet1      
which1 for overpowering effect1 leave   
far behind them almost everything that  
the stage has seen besides2 a few of    
their less celebrated scenes would be   
quite sufficient4 ,what to many readers 
might lend an appearance of truth to    
this assertion are the verbal           
witticisms1 that playing upon words1    
which ,shakspeare not unfrequently      
introduces into serious and sublime     

passages1 and even into those also of a 
peculiarly pathetic nature4  ,i have    
already stated the point of view in     
which we ought to consider this sportive
 play upon words4 ,i shall here1        
therefore1 merely deliver a few         
observations respecting the playing upon
 words in general1 and its poetical use4
 ,a thorough investigation would lead us
 too far from our subject1 and too      
deeply into considerations on the       
essence of language1 and its relation to
 poetry1 or rhyme1 c4  ,there is in the 
human mind a desire that language should
 exhibit the object which it denotes1   
sensibly1 by its very sound1 which may  
be traced even as far back as in the    
first origin of poetry4 ,as1 in the     
shape in which language comes down to   
us1 this is seldom perceptibly the case1
 an imagination which has been          
powerfully excited is fond of laying    
hold of any congruity in sound which may
 accidentally offer itself1 that by such
 means he may1 for the nonce1 restore   

the lost resemblance between the word   
and the thing4 ,for example1 ,how common
 was it and is it to seek in the name of
 a person1 however arbitrarily bestowed1
 a reference to his qualities and       
fortunes1--to convert it purposely into 
a significant name4 ,those who cry out  
against the play upon words as an       
unnatural and affected invention1 only  
betray their own ignorance of original  
nature4 ,a great fondness for it is     
always evinced among children1 as well  
as with nations of simple manners1 among
 whom correct ideas of the derivation   
and affinity of words have not yet been 
developed1 and do not1 consequently1    
stand in the way of this caprice4 ,in   
,homer we find several examples of it2  
the ,books of ,moses1 the oldest written
 memorial of the primitive world1 are1  
as is well known1 full of them4 ,on the 
other hand1 poets of a very cultivated  
taste1 like ,petrarch1 or orators1 like 
,cicero1 have delighted in them4        
,whoever1 in ,richard the ,second1 is   

disgusted with the affecting play of    
words of the dying ,john of ,gaunt on   
his own name1 should remember that the  
same thing occurs in the ,ajax of       
,sophocles4 ,we do not mean to say that 
all playing upon words is on all        
occasions to be justified4 ,this must   
depend on the disposition of mind1      
whether it will admit of such a play of 
fancy1 and whether the sallies1         
comparisons1 and allusions1 which lie at
 the bottom of them1 possess internal   
solidity4 ,yet we must not proceed upon 
the principle of trying how the thought 
appears after it is deprived of the     
resemblance in sound1 any more than we  
are to endeavour to feel the charm of   
rhymed versification after depriving it 
of its rhyme4 ,the laws of good taste on
 this subject must1 moreover1 vary with 
the quality of the languages4 ,in those 
which possess a great number of         
homonymes1 that is1 words possessing the
 same1 or nearly the same1 sound1 though
 quite different in their derivation and

 signification1 it is almost more       
difficult to avoid1 than to fall on such
 a verbal play4 ,it has1 however1 been  
feared1 lest a door might be opened to  
puerile witticism1 if they were not     
rigorously proscribed4 ,but ,i cannot1  
for my part1 find that ,shakspeare had  
such an invincible and immoderate       
passion for this verbal witticism4 ,it  
is true1 he sometimes makes a most      
lavish use of this figure2 at others1 he
 has employed it very sparingly2 and at 
times 7for example1 in ,macbeth71 ,i do 
not believe a vestige of it is to be    
found4 ,hence1 in respect to the use or 
the rejection of the play upon words1 he
 must have been guided by the measure of
 the objects1 and the different style in
 which they required to be treated1 and 
probably have followed here1 as in every
 thing else1 principles which1 fairly   
examined1 will bear a strict            
examination4  ,the objection that       
,shakspeare wounds our feelings by the  
open display of the most disgusting     

moral odiousness1 unmercifully harrows  
up the mind1 and tortures even our eyes 
by the exhibition of the most           
insupportable and hateful spectacles1 is
 one of greater and graver importance4  
,he has1 in fact1 never varnished over  
wild and blood-thirsty passions with a  
pleasing exterior--never clothed crime  
and want of principle with a false show 
of greatness of soul2 and in that       
respect he is every way deserving of    
praise4 ,twice he has portrayed         
downright villains1 and the masterly way
 in which he has contrived to elude     
impressions of too painful a nature may 
be seen in ,iago and ,richard the       
,third4 ,i allow that the reading1 and  
still more the sight1 of some of his    
pieces1 is not advisable to weak nerves1
 any more than was the ,eumenides of    
,aeschylus2 but is the poet1 who can    
only reach an important object by a bold
 and hazardous daring1 to be checked by 
considerations for such persons8 ,if the
 effeminacy of the present day is to    

serve as a general standard of what     
tragical composition may properly       
exhibit to human nature1 we shall be    
forced to set very narrow limits indeed 
to art1 and the hope of anything like   
powerful effect must at once and for    
ever be renounced4 ,if we wish to have a
 grand purpose1 we must also wish to    
have the grand means1 and our nerves    
ought in some measure to accommodate    
themselves to painful impressions1 if1  
by way of requital1 our mind is thereby 
elevated and strengthened4 ,the constant
 reference to a petty and puny race must
 cripple the boldness of the poet4      
,fortunately for his art1 ,shakspeare   
lived in an age extremely susceptible of
 noble and tender impressions1 but which
 had yet inherited enough of the        
firmness of a vigorous olden time1 not  
to shrink with dismay from every strong 
and forcible painting4 ,we have lived to
 see tragedies of which the catastrophe 
consists in the swoon of an enamoured   
princess3 if ,shakspeare falls          

occasionally into the opposite extreme1 
it is a noble error1 originating in the 
fulness of a gigantic strength4 ,and    
this tragical ,titan1 who storms the    
heavens and threatens to tear the world 
from off its hinges1 who1 more terrible 
than ,aeschylus1 makes our hair to stand
 on end1 and congeals our blood with    
horror1 possessed at the same time the  
insinuating loveliness of the sweetest  
poesy2 he toys with love like a child1  
and his songs die away on the ear like  
melting sighs4 ,he unites in his soul   
the utmost elevation and the utmost     
depth2 and the most opposite and even   
apparently irreconcilable properties    
subsist in him peaceably together4 ,the 
world of spirits and nature have laid   
all their treasures at his feet3 in     
strength a demi-god1 in profundity of   
view a prophet1 in all-seeing wisdom a  
guardian spirit of a higher order1 he   
lowers himself to mortals as if         
unconscious of his superiority1 and is  
as open and unassuming as a child4  ,if 

the delineation of all his characters1  
separately considered1 is inimitably    
bold and correct1 he surpasses even     
himself in so combining and contrasting 
them1 that they serve to bring out each 
other's peculiarities4 ,this is the very
 perfection of dramatic                 
characterization3 for we can never      
estimate a man's true worth if we       
consider him altogether abstractedly by 
himself2 we must see him in his         
relations with others2 and it is here   
that most dramatic poets are deficient4 
,shakspeare makes each of his principal 
characters the glass in which the others
 are reflected1 and by like means       
enables us to discover what could not be
 immediately revealed to us4 ,what in   
others is most profound1 is with him but
 surface4 ,ill-advised should we be were
 we always to take men's declarations   
respecting themselves and others for    
sterling coin4 ,ambiguity of design with
 much propriety he makes to overflow    
with the most praiseworthy principles2  

and sage maxims are not unfrequently put
 in the mouth of stupidity1 to show how 
easily such common-place truisms may be 
acquired4 ,nobody ever painted so       
truthfully as he has done the facility  
of self-deception1 the half             
self-conscious hypocrisy towards        
ourselves1 with which even noble minds  
attempt to disguise the almost          
inevitable influence of selfish motives 
in human nature4 ,this secret irony of  
the characterization commands admiration
 as the profound abyss of acuteness and 
sagacity2 but it is the grave of        
enthusiasm4 ,we arrive at it only after 
we have had the misfortune to see human 
nature through and through2 and when no 
choice remains but to adopt the         
melancholy truth1 that no virtue or     
greatness is altogether pure and        
genuine1 or the dangerous error that the
 highest perfection is attainable4 ,here
 we therefore may perceive in the poet  
himself1 notwithstanding his power to   
excite the most fervent emotions1 a     

certain cool indifference1 but still the
 indifference of a superior mind1 which 
has run through the whole sphere of     
human existence and survived feeling4   
,the irony in ,shakspeare has not merely
 a reference to the separate characters1
 but frequently to the whole of the     
action4 ,most poets who pourtray human  
events in a narrative or dramatic form  
take themselves a part1 and exact from  
their readers a blind approbation or    
condemnation of whatever side they      
choose to support or oppose4 ,the more  
zealous this rhetoric is1 the more      
certainly it fails of its effect4 ,in   
every case we are conscious that the    
subject itself is not brought           
immediately before us1 but that we view 
it through the medium of a different way
 of thinking4 ,when1 however1 by a      
dexterous manoeuvre1 the poet allows us 
an occasional glance at the less        
brilliant reverse of the medal1 then he 
makes1 as it were1 a sort of secret     
understanding with the select circle of 

the more intelligent of his readers or  
spectators2 he shows them that he had   
previously seen and admitted the        
validity of their tacit objections2 that
 he himself is not tied down to the     
represented subject1 but soars freely   
above it2 and that1 if he chose1 he     
could unrelentingly annihilate the      
beautiful and irresistibly attractive   
scenes which his magic pen has produced4
 ,no doubt1 wherever the proper tragic  
enters every thing like irony           
immediately ceases2 but from the avowed 
raillery of ,comedy1 to the point where 
the subjection of mortal beings to an   
inevitable destiny demands the highest  
degree of seriousness1 there are a      
multitude of human relations which      
unquestionably may be considered in an  
ironical view1 without confounding the  
eternal line of separation between good 
and evil4 ,this purpose is answered by  
the comic characters and scenes which   
are interwoven with the serious parts in
 most of those pieces of ,shakspeare    

where romantic fables or historical     
events are made the subject of a noble  
and elevating exhibition4 ,frequently an
 intentional parody of the serious part 
is not to be mistaken in them2 at other 
times the connexion is more arbitrary   
and loose1 and the more so the more     
marvellous the invention of the whole1  
and the more entirely it is become a    
light revelling of the fancy4 ,the comic
 intervals everywhere serve to prevent  
the pastime from being converted into a 
business1 to preserve the mind in the   
possession of its serenity1 and to keep 
off that gloomy and inert seriousness   
which so easily steals upon the         
sentimental1 but not tragical1 drama4   
,most assuredly ,shakspeare did not     
intend thereby1 in defiance to his own  
better judgment1 to humour the taste of 
the multitude3 for in various pieces1   
and throughout considerable portions of 
others1 and especially when the         
catastrophe is approaching1 and the mind
 consequently is more on the stretch and

 no longer likely to give heed to any   
amusement which would distract their    
attention1 he has abstained from all    
such comic intermixtures4 ,it was also  
an object with him1 that the clowns or  
buffoons should not occupy a more       
important place than that which he had  
assigned them3 he expressly condemns the
 extemporizing with which they love to  
enlarge their parts ,footnote3 ,in      
,hamlet's directions to the players4    
,act iii1 sc4 #b44 ,johnson founds the  
justification of the species of drama in
 which seriousness and mirth admixed1 on
 this1 that in real life the vulgar is  
found close to the sublime1 that the    
merry and the sad usually accompany and 
succeed one another4 ,but it does not   
follow that because both are found      
together1 therefore they must not be    
separable in the compositions of art4   
,the observation is in other respects   
just1 and this circumstance invests the 
poet with a power to adopt this         
procedure1 because every thing in the   

drama must be regulated by the          
conditions of theatrical probability2   
but the mixture of such dissimilar1 and 
apparently contradictory1 ingredients1  
in the same works1 can only be          
justifiable on principles reconcilable  
with the views of art1 which ,i have    
already described4 ,in the dramas of    
,shakspeare the comic scenes are the    
antechamber of the poetry1 where the    
servants remain2 these prosaic          
attendants must not raise their voices  
so high as to deafen the speakers in the
 presence-chamber2 however1 in those    
intervals when the ideal society has    
retired they deserve to be listened to2 
their bold raillery1 their presumption  
of mockery1 may afford many an insight  
into the situation and circumstances of 
their masters4  ,shakspeare's comic     
talent is equally wonderful with that   
which he has shown in the pathetic and  
tragic3 it stands on an equal elevation1
 and possesses equal extent and         
profundity2 in all that ,i have hitherto

 said1 ,i only wished to guard against  
admitting that the former preponderated4
 ,he is highly inventive in comic       
situations and motives3 it will be      
hardly possible to show whence he has   
taken any of them1 whereas1 in the      
serious part of his dramas1 he has      
generally laid hold of some well-known  
story4 ,his comic characterization is   
equally true1 various1 and profound1    
with his serious4 ,so little is he      
disposed to caricature1 that rather1 it 
may be said1 many of his traits are     
almost too nice and delicate for the    
stage1 that they can only be made       
available by a great actor1 and fully   
understood by an acute audience4 ,not   
only has he delineated many kinds of    
folly1 but even of sheer stupidity has  
he contrived to give a most diverting   
and entertaining picture4 ,there is also
 in his pieces a peculiar species of the
 farcical1 which apparently seems to be 
introduced more arbitrarily1 but which1 
however1 is founded on imitation of some

 actual custom4 ,this is the            
introduction of the merry-maker1 the    
fool with his cap and bells1 and motley 
dress1 called more commonly in ,england 
,clown1 who appears in several comedies1
 though not in all1 but of the tragedies
 in ,lear alone1 and who generally      
merely exercises his wit in conversation
 with the principal persons1 though he  
is also sometimes incorporated into the 
action4 ,in those times it was not only 
usual for princes to have their court   
fools1 but many distinguished families1 
among their other retainers1 kept such  
an exhilarating housemate as a good     
antidote against the insipidity and     
wearisomeness of ordinary life1 and as a
 welcome interruption of established    
formalities4 ,great statesmen1 and even 
ecclesiastics1 did not consider it      
beneath their dignity to recruit and    
solace themselves after important       
business with the conversation of their 
fools2 the celebrated ,sir ,thomas ,more
 had his fool painted along with himself

 by ,holbein4 ,shakspeare appears to    
have lived immediately before the time  
when the custom began to be abolished2  
in the ,english comic authors who       
succeeded him the clown is no longer to 
be found4 ,the dismissal of the fool has
 been extolled as a proof of refinement2
 and our honest forefathers have been   
pitied for taking delight in such a     
coarse and farcical amusement4 ,for my  
part1 ,i am rather disposed to believe1 
that the practice was dropped from the  
difficulty in finding fools able to do  
full justice to their parts3 ,footnote3 
,see ,hamlet's praise of ,yorick4 ,in   
,the ,twelfth ,night1 ,viola says3--    
,this fellow is wise enough to play the 
fool1   ,and to do that well craves a   
kind of wit2   ,he must observe their   
mood on whom he jests1   ,the quality of
 the persons1 and the time2   ,and like 
the haggard1 check at every feather     
,that comes before his eye4 ,this is a  
practice   ,as full of labour as a wise 
man's art3   ,for folly that he wisely  

shows if fit1   ,but wise mens' folly   
fall'n quite taints their               
wit4--,,author4 ,the passages from      
,shakspeare1 in the original work1 are  
given from the author's masterly        
translation4 ,we may be allowed1        
however1 to observe that the last line--
   ,doch wozu ist des ,weisen ,thorheit 
nutz8 literally1 ,of what use is the    
folly of the wise8--does not convey the 
exact meaning of ,shakespeare4--,,trans4
 on the other hand1 reason1 with all its
 conceit of itself1 has become too timid
 to tolerate such bold irony2 it is     
always careful lest the mantle of its   
gravity should be disturbed in any of   
its folds2 and rather than allow a      
privileged place to folly beside itself1
 it has unconsciously assumed the part  
of the ridiculous2 but1 alas6 a heavy   
and cheerless ridicule4 ,footnote3      
,since the little wit that fools have   
was silenced1 the little foolery that   
wise men have makes a greater show4--,as
 ,you ,like ,it4 ,act i41 sc4 #b4 ,it   

would be easy to make a collection of   
the excellent sallies and biting        
sarcasms which have been preserved of   
celebrated court fools4 ,it is well     
known that they frequently told such    
truths to princes as are never now told 
to them4 ,footnote3 ,charles the ,bold1 
of ,burgundy1 is known to have          
frequently boasted that he wished to    
rival ,hannibal as the greatest general 
of all ages4 ,after his defeat at       
,granson1 his fool accompanied him in   
his hurried flight1 and exclaimed1 ,ah1 
your ,grace1 they have for once         
,hanniballed us6 ,if the ,duke had given
 an ear to this warning raillery1 he    
would not so soon afterwards have come  
to a disgraceful end4 ,shakspeare's     
fools1 along with somewhat of an        
overstraining for wit1 which cannot     
altogether be avoided when wit becomes a
 separate profession1 have for the most 
part an incomparable humour1 and an     
infinite abundance of intellect1 enough 
indeed to supply a whole host of        

ordinary wise men4  ,i have still a few 
observations to make on the diction and 
versification of our poet4 ,the language
 is here and there somewhat obsolete1   
but on the whole much less so than in   
most of the contemporary writers1 a     
sufficient proof of the goodness of his 
choice4 ,prose had as yet been but      
little cultivated1 as the learned       
generally wrote in ,latin3 a favourable 
circumstance for the dramatic poet2 for 
what has he to do with the scientific   
language of books8 ,he had not only     
read1 but studied the earlier ,english  
poets2 but he drew his language         
immediately from life itself1 and he    
possessed a masterly skill in blending  
the dialogical element with the highest 
poetical elevation4 ,i know not what    
certain critics mean1 when they say that
 ,shakspeare is frequently              
ungrammatical4 ,to make good their      
assertion1 they must prove that similar 
constructions never occur in his        
contemporaries1 the direct contrary of  

which can1 however1 be easily shown4 ,in
 no language is every thing determined  
on principle2 much is always left to the
 caprice of custom1 and if this has     
since changed1 is the poet to be made   
answerable for it8 ,the ,english        
language had not then attained to that  
correct insipidity which has been       
introduced into the more recent         
literature of the country1 to the       
prejudice1 perhaps1 of its originality4 
,as a field when first brought under the
 plough produces1 along with the        
fruitful shoots1 many luxuriant weeds1  
so the poetical diction of the day ran  
occasionally into extravagance1 but an  
extravagance originating in the         
exuberance of its vigour4 ,we may still 
perceive traces of awkwardness1 but     
nowhere of a laboured and spiritless    
display of art4 ,in general             
,shakspeare's style yet remains the very
 best model1 both in the vigorous and   
sublime1 and the pleasing and tender4   
,in his sphere he has exhausted all the 

means and appliances of language4 ,on   
all he has impressed the stamp of his   
mighty spirit4 ,his images and figures1 
in their unsought1 nay1 uncapricious    
singularity1 have often a sweetness     
altogether peculiar4 ,he becomes        
occasionally obscure from too great     
fondness for compressed brevity2 but    
still1 the labour of poring over        
,shakspeare's lines will invariably meet
 an ample requital4  ,the verse in all  
his plays is generally the rhymeless    
,iambic of ten or eleven syllables1     
occasionally only intermixed with       
rhymes1 but more frequently alternating 
with prose4 ,no one piece is written    
entirely in prose2 for even in those    
which approach the most to the pure     
,comedy1 there is always something added
 which gives them a more poetical hue   
than usually belongs to this species4   
,many scenes are wholly in prose1 in    
others verse and prose succeed each     
other alternately4 ,this can only appear
 an impropriety in the eyes of those who

 are accustomed to consider the lines of
 a drama like so many soldiers drawn up 
rank and file on a parade1 with the same
 uniform1 arms1 and accoutrements1 so   
that when we see one or two we may      
represent to ourselves thousands as     
being every way like them4  ,in the use 
of verse and prose ,shakspeare observes 
very nice distinctions according to the 
ranks of the speakers1 but still more   
according to their characters and       
disposition of mind4 ,a noble language1 
elevated above the usual tone1 is only  
suitable to a certain decorum of        
manners1 which is thrown over both vices
 and virtues1 and which does not even   
wholly disappear amidst the violence of 
passion4 ,if this is not exclusively    
possessed by the higher ranks1 it still1
 however1 belongs naturally more to them
 than to the lower2 and therefore in    
,shakspeare dignity and familiarity of  
language1 poetry1 and prose1 are in this
 manner distributed among the           
characters4 ,hence his tradesmen1       

peasants1 soldiers1 sailors1 servants1  
but more especially his fools and       
clowns1 speak almost without exception1 
in the tone of their actual life4       
,however1 inward dignity of sentiment1  
wherever it is possessed1 invariably    
displays itself with a nobleness of its 
own1 and stands not in need1 for that   
end1 of the artificial elegancies of    
education and custom2 it is a universal 
right of man1 of the highest as well as 
the lowest2 and hence also1 in          
,shakspeare1 the nobility of nature and 
morality is ennobled above the          
artificial nobility of society4 ,not    
unfrequently also he makes the very same
 persons express themselves at times in 
the sublimest language1 and at others in
 the lowest2 and this inequality is in  
like manner founded in truth4           
,extraordinary situations1 which        
intensely occupy the head and throw     
mighty passions into play1 give         
elevation and tension to the soul3 it   
collects together all its powers1 and   

exhibits an unusual energy1 both in its 
operations and in its communications by 
language4 ,on the other hand1 even the  
greatest men have their moments of      
remissness1 when to a certain degree    
they forget the dignity of their        
character in unreserved relaxation4     
,this very tone of mind is necessary    
before they can receive amusement from  
the jokes of others1 or what surely     
cannot dishonour even a hero1 from      
passing jokes themselves4 ,let any      
person1 for example1 go carefully       
through the part of ,hamlet4 ,how bold  
and powerful the language of his poetry 
when he conjures the ghost of his       
father1 when he spurs himself on to the 
bloody deed1 when he thunders into the  
soul of his mother6 ,how he lowers his  
tone down to that of common life1 when  
he has to do with persons whose station 
demands from him such a line of conduct2
 when he makes game of ,polonius and the
 courtiers1 instructs the player1 and   
even enters into the jokes of the       

grave-digger4 ,of all the poet's serious
 leading characters there is none so    
rich in wit and humour as ,hamlet2 hence
 he it is of all of them that makes the 
greatest use of the familiar style4     
,others1 again1 never do fall into it2  
either because they are constantly      
surrounded by the pomp of rank1 or      
because a uniform seriousness is natural
 to them2 or1 in short1 because through 
the whole piece they are under the      
dominion of a passion1 calculated to    
excite1 and not1 like the sorrow of     
,hamlet1 to depress the mind4 ,the      
choice of the one form or the other is  
everywhere so appropriate1 and so much  
founded in the nature of the thing1 that
 ,i will venture to assert1 even where  
the poet in the very same speech makes  
the speaker leave prose for poetry1 or  
the converse1 this could not be altered 
without danger of injuring or destroying
 some beauty or other4 ,the blank verse 
has this advantage1 that its tone may be
 elevated or lowered2 it admits of      

approximation to the familiar style of  
conversation1 and never forms such an   
abrupt contrast as that1 for example1   
between plain prose and the rhyming     
,alexandrines4  ,shakspeare's ,iambics  
are sometimes highly harmonious and full
 sounding2 always varied and suitable to
 the subject1 at one time distinguished 
by ease and rapidity1 at another they   
move along with ponderous energy4 ,they 
never fall out of the dialogical        
character1 which may always be traced   
even in the continued discourses of     
individuals1 excepting when the latter  
run into the lyrical4 ,they are a       
complete model of the dramatic use of   
this species of verse1 which1 in        
,english1 since ,milton1 has been also  
used in epic poetry2 but in the latter  
it has assumed a quite different turn4  
,even the irregularities of             
,shakspeare's versification are         
expressive2 a verse broken off1 or a    
sudden change of rhythmus1 coincides    
with some pause in the progress of the  

thought1 or the entrance of another     
mental disposition4 ,as a proof that he 
purposely violated the mechanical rules1
 from a conviction that too symmetrical 
a versification does not suit with the  
drama1 and on the stage has in the long 
run a tendency to lull the spectators   
asleep1 we may observe that his earlier 
pieces are the most diligently          
versified1 and that in the later works1 
when through practice he must have      
acquired a greater facility1 we find the
 strongest deviations from the regular  
structure of the verse4 ,as it served   
with him merely to make the poetical    
elevation perceptible1 he therefore     
claimed the utmost possible freedom in  
the use of it4  ,the views or           
suggestions of feeling by which he was  
guided in the use of rhyme may likewise 
be traced with almost equal certainty4  
,not unfrequently scenes1 or even single
 speeches1 close with a few rhyming     
lines1 for the purpose of more strongly 
marking the division1 and of giving it  

more rounding4 ,this was injudiciously  
imitated by the ,english tragic poets of
 a later date2 they suddenly elevated   
the tone in the rhymed lines1 as if the 
person began all at once to speak in    
another language4 ,the practice was     
welcomed by the actors from its serving 
as a signal for clapping when they made 
their exit4 ,in ,shakspeare1 on the     
other hand1 the transitions are more    
easy3 all changes of forms are brought  
about insensibly1 and as if of          
themselves4 ,moreover1 he is generally  
fond of heightening a series of         
ingenious and antithetical sayings by   
the use of rhyme4 ,we find other        
passages in continued rhyme1 where      
solemnity and theatrical pomp were      
suitable1 as1 for instance1 in the mask1
 ,footnote3 ,i shall take the           
opportunity of saying a few words       
respecting this species of drama when ,i
 come to speak of ,ben ,jonson4 as it is
 called1 ,the ,tempest1 and in the play 
introduced in ,hamlet4 ,of other pieces1

 for instance1 the ,midsummer ,night's  
,dream1 and ,romeo and ,juliet1 the     
rhymes form a considerable part2 either 
because he may have wished to give them 
a glowing colour1 or because the        
characters appropriately utter in a more
 musical tone their complaints or suits 
of love4 ,in these cases he has even    
introduced rhymed strophes1 which       
approach to the form of the sonnet1 then
 usual in ,england4 ,the assertion of   
,malone1 that ,shakspeare in his youth  
was fond of rhyme1 but that he          
afterwards rejected it1 is sufficiently 
refuted by his own chronology of the    
poet's works4 ,in some of the earliest1 
for instance1 in the ,second and ,third 
,part of ,henry the ,sixth1 there are   
hardly any rhymes2 in what is stated to 
be his last piece1 ,the ,twelfth ,night1
 or ,what ,you ,will1 and in ,macbeth1  
which is proved to have been composed   
under the reign of ,king ,james1 we find
 them in no inconsiderable number4 ,even
 in the secondary matters of form       

,shakspeare was not guided by humour and
 accident1 but1 like a genuine artist1  
acted invariably on good and solid      
grounds4 ,this we might also show of the
 kinds of verse which he least          
frequently used2 for instance1 if the   
rhyming verses of seven and eight       
syllables1 were we not afraid of        
dwelling too long on merely technical   
peculiarities4  ,in ,england the manner 
of handling rhyming verse1 and the      
opinion as to its harmony and elegance1 
have1 in the course of two centuries1   
undergone a much greater change than is 
the case with the rhymeless ,iambic or  
blank verse4 ,in the former1 ,dryden and
 ,pope have become models2 these writers
 have communicated the utmost smoothing 
to rhyme1 but they have also tied it    
down to a harmonious uniformity4 ,a     
foreigner1 to whom antiquated and new   
are the same1 may perhaps feel with     
greater freedom the advantages of the   
more ancient manner4 ,certain it is1 the
 rhyme of the present day1 from the too 

great confinement of the couplet1 is    
unfit for the drama4 ,we must not       
estimate the rhyme of ,shakspeare by the
 mode of subsequent times1 but by a     
comparison with his contemporaries or   
with ,spenser4 ,the comparison will1    
without doubt1 turn out to his          
advantage4 ,spenser is often diffuse2   
,shakspeare1 though sometimes hard1 is  
always brief and vigorous4 ,he has more 
frequently been induced by the rhyme to 
leave out something necessary than to   
insert anything superfluous4 ,many of   
his rhymes1 however1 are faultless3     
ingenious with attractive ease1 and rich
 without false brilliancy4 ,the songs   
interspersed 7those1 ,i mean1 of the    
poet himself7 are generally sweetly     
playful and altogether musical2 in      
imagination1 while we merely read them1 
we hear their melody4  ,the whole of    
,shakspeare's productions bear the      
certain stamp of his original genius1   
but yet no writer was ever farther      
removed from every thing like a         

mannerism derived from habit or personal
 peculiarities4 ,rather is he1 such is  
the diversity of tone and colour1 which 
varies according to the quality of his  
subjects he assumes1 a very ,proteus4   
,each of his compositions is like a     
world of its own1 moving in its own     
sphere4 ,they are works of art1 finished
 in one pervading style1 which revealed 
the freedom and judicious choice of     
their author4 ,if the formation of a    
work throughout1 even in its minutest   
parts1 in conformity with a leading     
idea2 if the domination of one animating
 spirit over all the means of execution1
 deserves the name of correctness 7and  
this1 excepting in matters of grammar1  
is the only proper sense of the term72  
we shall then1 after allowing to        
,shakspeare all the higher qualities    
which demand our admiration1 be also    
compelled1 in most cases1 to concede to 
him the title of a correct poet4  ,it   
would be in the highest degree          
instructive to follow1 if we could1 in  

his career step by step1 an author who  
at once founded and carried his art to  
perfection1 and to go through his works 
in the order of time4 ,but1 with the    
exception of a few fixed points1 which  
at length have been obtained1 all the   
necessary materials for this are still  
wanting4 ,the diligent ,malone has1     
indeed1 made an attempt to arrange the  
plays of ,shakspeare in chronological   
order2 but he himself only gives out the
 result of his labours for hypothetical1
 and it could not possibly be attended  
with complete success1 since he excluded
 from his inquiry a considerable number 
of pieces which have been ascribed to   
the poet1 though rejected as spurious by
 all the editors since ,rowe1 but which1
 in my opinion1 must1 if not wholly1 at 
least in great measure be attributed to 
him4 ,footnote3 ,were this book destined
 immediately for an ,english public1 ,i 
should not have hazarded an opinion like
 this at variance with that which is    
generally received1 without supporting  

it by proofs4 ,the inquiry1 however1 is 
too extensive for our present limits1   
and ,i have therefore reserved it for a 
separate treatise4 ,besides at the      
present moment1 while ,i am putting the 
last hand to my ,lectures1 no collection
 of ,english books but my own is        
accessible to me4 ,the latter ,i should 
have enlarged with a view to this       
object1 if the interruption of          
intercourse with ,england had not       
rendered it impossible to procure any   
other than the most common ,english     
books4 ,on this point1 therefore1 ,i    
must request indulgence4 ,in an         
,appendix to this ,lecture ,i shall     
merely make a few cursory observations4 
,,lecture ,,xxiv4  ,criticisms on       
,shakspeare's ,comedies4   ,the best and
 easiest mode of reviewing ,shakspeare's
 dramas will be to arrange them in      
classes4 ,this1 it must be owned1 is    
merely a makeshift3 several critics have
 declared that all ,shakspeare's pieces 
substantially belong to the same        

species1 although sometimes one         
ingredient1 sometimes another1 the      
musical or the characteristical1 the    
invention of the wonderful or the       
imitation of the real1 the pathetic or  
the comic1 seriousness or irony1 may    
preponderate in the mixture4 ,shakspeare
 himself1 it would appear1 did but laugh
 at the petty endeavours of critics to  
find out divisions and subdivisions of  
species1 and to hedge in what had been  
so separated with the most anxious care2
 thus the pedantic ,polonius in ,hamlet 
commends the players1 for their         
knowledge of tragedy1 comedy1 history1  
pastoral1 pastoral-comical1             
historical-pastoral1 tragical-          
historical1 tragical-comical1           
historical-pastoral1 scene-undividable1 
or poem unlimited4 ,on another occasion 
he ridicules the limitation of ,tragedy 
to an unfortunate catastrophe3    ,and  
tragical1 my noble lord1 it is2 ,for    
,pyramus therein doth kill himself4     
,however the division into ,comedies1   

,tragedies1 and ,historical ,dramas1    
according to the usual practice1 may in 
some measure be adopted1 if we do not   
lose sight of the transitions and       
affinities4 ,the subjects of the        
comedies are generally taken from       
novels3 they are romantic love tales2   
none are altogether confined to the     
sphere of common or domestic relations3 
all of them possess poetical ornament1  
some of them run into the wonderful or  
the pathetic4 ,with these two of his    
most famous tragedies are connected by  
an immediate link1 ,romeo and ,juliet   
and ,othello2 both true novels1 and     
composed on the same principles4 ,in    
many of the historical plays a          
considerable space is occupied by the   
comic characters and scenes2 others are 
serious throughout1 and leave behind a  
tragical impression4 ,the essential     
circumstance by which they are          
distinguished is1 that the plot bears   
reference to a poetical and national    
interest4 ,this is not equally the case 

in ,hamlet1 ,lear1 and ,macbeth2 and    
therefore it is that we do not include  
these tragedies among the historical    
pieces1 though the first is founded on  
an old northern1 the second on a        
national tradition2 and the third comes 
even within the era of ,scottish        
history1 after it ceased to be fabulous4
  ,among the comedies1 ,the ,two        
,gentlemen of ,verona1 ,the ,taming of  
the ,shrew1 and ,the ,comedy of ,errors1
 bear many traces of an early origin4   
,the ,two ,gentlemen of ,verona paints  
the irresolution of love1 and its       
infidelity to friendship1 pleasantly    
enough1 but in some degree              
superficially1 we might almost say with 
the levity of mind which a passion      
suddenly entertained1 and as suddenly   
given up1 presupposes4 ,the faithless   
lover is at last1 on account of a very  
ambiguous repentance1 forgiven without  
much difficulty by his first mistress2  
for the more serious part1 the          
premeditated flight of the daughter of a

 ,prince1 the capture of her father     
along with herself by a band of robbers1
 of which one of the ,two ,gentlemen1   
the betrayed and banished friend1 has   
been against his will elected captain3  
for all this a peaceful solution is soon
 found4 ,it is as if the course of the  
world was obliged to accommodate itself 
to a transient youthful caprice1 called 
love4 ,julia1 who accompanies her       
faithless lover in the disguise of a    
page1 is1 as it were1 a light sketch of 
the tender female figures of a ,viola   
and an ,imogen1 who1 in the latter      
pieces of ,shakspeare1 leave their home 
in similar disguises on love adventures1
 and to whom a peculiar charm is        
communicated by the display of the most 
virginly modesty in their hazardous and 
problematical situation4  ,the ,comedy  
of ,errors is the subject of the        
,menaechmi of ,plautus1 entirely recast 
and enriched with new developments3 of  
all the works of ,shakspeare this is the
 only example of imitation of1 or       

borrowing from1 the ancients4 ,to the   
two twin brothers of the same name are  
added two slaves1 also twins1 impossible
 to be distinguished from each other1   
and of the same name4 ,the improbability
 becomes by this means doubled3 but when
 once we have lent ourselves to the     
first1 which certainly borders on the   
incredible1 we shall not perhaps be     
disposed to cavil at the second2 and if 
the spectator is to be entertained by   
mere perplexities they cannot be too    
much varied4 ,in such pieces we must1 to
 give to the senses at least an         
appearance of truth1 always pre-suppose 
that the parts by which the             
misunderstandings are occasioned are    
played with masks1 and this the poet no 
doubt observed4 ,i cannot acquiesce in  
the censure that the discovery is too   
long deferred3 so long as novelty and   
interest are possessed by the perplexing
 incidents1 there is no need to be in   
dread of wearisomeness4 ,and this is    
really the case here3 matters are       

carried so far that one of the two      
brothers is first arrested for debt1    
then confined as a lunatic1 and the     
other is forced to take refuge in a     
sanctuary to save his life4 ,in a       
subject of this description it is       
impossible to steer clear of all sorts  
of low circumstances1 abusive language1 
and blows2 ,shakspeare has however      
endeavoured to ennoble it in every      
possible way4 ,a couple of scenes1      
dedicated to jealousy and love1         
interrupt the course of perplexities    
which are solely occasioned by the      
illusion of the external senses4 ,a     
greater solemnity is given to the       
discovery1 from the ,prince presiding1  
and from the re-union of the long       
separated parents of the twins who are  
still alive4 ,the exposition1 by which  
the spectators are previously instructed
 while the characters themselves are    
still involved in ignorance1 and which  
,plautus artlessly conveys in a         
prologue1 is here masterly introduced in

 an affecting narrative by the father4  
,in short1 this is perhaps the best of  
all written or possible ,menaechmi2 and 
if the piece be inferior in worth to    
other pieces of ,shakspeare1 it is      
merely because nothing more could be    
made of the materials4  ,the ,taming of 
the ,shrew has the air of an ,italian   
comedy2 and indeed the love intrigue1   
which constitutes the main part of it1  
is derived mediately or immediately from
 a piece of ,ariosto4 ,the characters   
and passions are lightly sketched2 the  
intrigue is introduced without much     
preparation1 and in its rapid progress  
impeded by no sort of difficulties2     
while1 in the manner in which           
,petruchio1 though previously cautioned 
as to ,katherine1 still encounters the  
risks in marrying her1 and contrives to 
tame her--in all this the character and 
peculiar humour of the ,english are     
distinctly visible4 ,the colours are    
laid on somewhat coarsely1 but the      
ground is good4 ,that the obstinacy of a

 young and untamed girl1 possessed of   
none of the attractions of her sex1 and 
neither supported by bodily nor mental  
strength1 must soon yield to the still  
rougher and more capricious but assumed 
self-will of a man3 such a lesson can   
only be taught on the stage with all the
 perspicuity of a proverb4  ,the prelude
 is still more remarkable than the play 
itself3 a drunken tinker1 removed in his
 sleep to a palace1 where he is deceived
 into the belief of being a nobleman4   
,the invention1 however1 is not         
,shakspeare's4 ,holberg has handled the 
same subject in a masterly manner1 and  
with inimitable truth2 but he has spun  
it out to five acts1 for which such     
material is hardly sufficient4 ,he      
probably did not borrow from the        
,english dramatist1 but like him took   
the hint from a popular story4 ,there   
are several comic motives of this       
description1 which go back to a very    
remote age1 without ever becoming       
antiquated4 ,here1 as well as everywhere

 else1 ,shakspeare has proved himself a 
great poet3 the whole is merely a slight
 sketch1 but in elegance and delicate   
propriety it will hardly ever be        
excelled4 ,neither has he overlooked the
 irony which the subject naturally      
suggested3 the great lord1 who is driven
 by idleness and ennui to deceive a poor
 drunkard1 can make no better use of his
 situation than the latter1 who every   
moment relapses into his vulgar habits4 
,the last half of this prelude1 that in 
which the tinker1 in his new state1     
again drinks himself out of his senses1 
and is transformed in his sleep into his
 former condition1 is from some accident
 or other1 lost4 ,it ought to have      
followed at the end of the larger piece4
 ,the occasional remarks of the tinker1 
during the course of the representation 
of the comedy1 might have been          
improvisatory1 but it is hardly credible
 that ,shakspeare should have trusted to
 the momentary suggestions of the       
players1 whom he did not hold in high   

estimation1 the conclusion1 however     
short1 of a work which he had so        
carefully commenced4 ,moreover1 the only
 circumstance which connects the play   
with the prelude1 is1 that it belongs to
 the new life of the supposed nobleman  
to have plays acted in his castle by    
strolling actors4 ,this invention of    
introducing spectators on the stage1 who
 contribute to the entertainment1 has   
been very wittily used by later ,english
 poets4  ,love's ,labour ,lost is also  
numbered among the pieces of his youth4 
,it is a humorsome display of frolic2 a 
whole cornucopia of the most vivacious  
jokes is emptied into it4 ,youth is     
certainly perceivable in the lavish     
superfluity of labour in the execution3 
the unbroken succession of plays on     
words1 and sallies of every description1
 hardly leave the spectator time to     
breathe2 the sparkles of wit fly about  
in such profusion1 that they resemble a 
blaze of fireworks2 while the dialogue1 
for the most part1 is in the same       

hurried style in which the passing masks
 at a carnival attempt to banter each   
other4 ,the young king of ,navarre1 with
 three of his courtiers1 has made a vow 
to pass three years in rigid retirement1
 and devote them to the study of wisdom2
 for that purpose he has banished all   
female society from his court1 and      
imposed a penalty on the intercourse    
with women4 ,but scarcely has he1 in a  
pompous harangue1 worthy of the most    
heroic achievements1 announced this     
determination1 when the daughter of the 
king of ,france appears at his court1 in
 the name of her old and bed-ridden     
father1 to demand the restitution of a  
province which he held in pledge4       
,compelled to give her audience1 he     
falls immediately in love with her4     
,matters fare no better with his        
companions1 who on their parts renew an 
old acquaintance with the princess's    
attendants4 ,each1 in heart1 is already 
false to his vow1 without knowing that  
the wish is shared by his associates2   

they overhear one another1 as they in   
turn confide their sorrows in a         
love-ditty to the solitary forest3 every
 one jeers and confounds the one who    
follows him4 ,biron1 who from the       
beginning was the most satirical among  
them1 at last steps forth1 and rallies  
the king and the two others1 till the   
discovery of a love-letter forces him   
also to hang down his head4 ,he         
extricates himself and his companions   
from their dilemma by ridiculing the    
folly of the broken vow1 and1 after a   
noble eulogy on women1 invites them to  
swear new allegiance to the colours of  
love4 ,this scene is inimitable1 and the
 crowning beauty of the whole4 ,the     
manner in which they afterwards         
prosecute their love- suits in masks and
 disguise1 and in which they are tricked
 and laughed at by the ladies1 who are  
also masked and disguised1 is1 perhaps1 
spun out too long4 ,it may be thought1  
too1 that the poet1 when he suddenly    
announces the death of the king of      

,france1 and makes the princess postpone
 her answer to the young prince's       
serious advances till the expiration of 
the period of her mourning1 and impose1 
besides1 a heavy penance on him for his 
levity1 drops the proper comic tone4    
,but the tone of raillery1 which        
prevails throughout the piece1 made it  
hardly possible to bring about a more   
satisfactory conclusion3 after such     
extravagance1 the characters could not  
return to sobriety1 except under the    
presence of some foreign influence4 ,the
 grotesque figures of ,don ,armado1 a   
pompous fantastic ,spaniard1 a couple of
 pedants1 and a clown1 who between      
whiles contribute to the entertainment1 
are the creation of a whimsical         
imagination1 and well adapted as foils  
for the wit of so vivacious a society4  
,all's ,well that ,ends ,well1 ,much    
,ado about ,nothing1 ,measure for       
,measure1 and ,the ,merchant of ,venice1
 bear1 in so far1 a resemblance to each 
other1 that1 along with the main plot1  

which turns on important relations      
decisive of nothing less than the       
happiness or misery of life1 and        
therefore is calculated to make a       
powerful impression on the moral        
feeling1 the poet1 with the skill of a  
practised artist1 has contrived to      
combine a number of cheerful            
accompaniments4 ,not1 however1 that the 
poet seems both to allow full scope to  
the serious impressions3 he merely adds 
a due counterpoise to them in the       
entertainment which he supplies for the 
imagination and the understanding4 ,he  
has furnished the story with all the    
separate features which are necessary to
 give to it the appearance of a real1   
though extraordinary1 event4 ,but he    
never falls into the lachrymose tone of 
the sentimental drama1 nor into the     
bitterness of those dramas which have a 
moral direction1 and which are really   
nothing but moral invectives dramatized4
 ,compassion1 anxiety1 and              
dissatisfaction become too oppressive   

when they are too long dwelt on1 and    
when the whole of a work is given up to 
them exclusively4 ,shakspeare always    
finds means to transport us from the    
confinement of social institutions or   
pretensions1 where men do but shut out  
the light and air from each other1 into 
the open space1 even before we ourselves
 are conscious of our want4  ,all's     
,well that ,ends ,well is the old story 
of a young maiden whose love looked much
 higher than her station4 ,she obtains  
her lover in marriage from the hand of  
the ,king as a reward for curing him of 
a hopeless and lingering disease1 by    
means of a hereditary arcanum of her    
father1 who had been in his lifetime a  
celebrated physician4 ,the young man    
despises her virtue and beauty2         
concludes the marriage only in          
appearance1 and seeks in the dangers of 
war1 deliverance from a domestic        
happiness which wounds his pride4 ,by   
faithful endurance and an innocent      
fraud1 she fulfils the apparently       

impossible conditions on which the      
,count had promised to acknowledge her  
as his wife4 ,love appears here in      
humble guise3 the wooing is on the      
woman's side2 it is striving1 unaided by
 a reciprocal inclination1 to overcome  
the prejudices of birth4 ,but as soon as
 ,helena is united to the ,count by a   
sacred bond1 though by him considered an
 oppressive chain1 her error becomes her
 virtue4--,she affects us by her patient
 suffering3 the moment in which she     
appears to most advantage is when she   
accuses herself as the persecutor of her
 inflexible husband1 and1 under the     
pretext of a pilgrimage to atone for her
 error1 privately leaves the house of   
her mother-in-law4 ,johnson expresses a 
cordial aversion for ,count ,bertram1   
and regrets that he should be allowed to
 come off at last with no other         
punishment than a temporary shame1 nay1 
even be rewarded with the unmerited     
possession of a virtuous wife4 ,but has 
,shakspeare ever attempted to soften the

 impression made by his unfeeling pride 
and light-hearted perversity8 ,he has   
but given him the good qualities of a   
soldier4 ,and does not the poet paint   
the true way of the world1 which never  
makes much of man's injustice to woman1 
if so-called family honour is preserved8
 ,bertram's sole justification is1 that 
by the exercise of arbitrary power1 the 
,king thought proper to constrain him1  
in a matter of such delicacy and private
 right as the choice of a wife4         
,besides1 this story1 as well as that of
 ,grissel and many similar ones1 is     
intended to prove that woman's truth and
 patience will at last triumph over     
man's abuse of his superior power1 while
 other novels and fabliaux are1 on the  
other hand1 true satires on woman's     
inconsistency and cunning4 ,in this     
piece old age is painted with rare      
favour3 the plain honesty of the ,king1 
the good-natured impetuosity of old     
,lafeu1 the maternal indulgence of the  
,countess to ,helena's passion for her  

son1 seem all as it were to vie with    
each other in endeavours to overcome the
 arrogance of the young ,count4 ,the    
style of the whole is more sententious  
than imaginative3 the glowing colours of
 fancy could not with propriety have    
been employed on such a subject4 ,in the
 passages where the humiliating         
rejection of the poor ,helena is most   
painfully affecting1 the cowardly       
,parolles steps in to the relief of the 
spectator4 ,the mystification by which  
his pretended valour and his shameless  
slanders are unmasked must be ranked    
among the most comic scenes that ever   
were invented3 they contain matter      
enough for an excellent comedy1 if      
,shakspeare were not always rich even to
 profusion4 ,falstaff has thrown        
,parolles into the shade1 otherwise     
among the poet's comic characters he    
would have been still more famous4  ,the
 main plot in ,much ,ado about ,nothing 
is the same with the story of ,ariodante
 and ,ginevra in ,ariosto2 the secondary

 circumstances and development are no   
doubt very different4 ,the mode in which
 the innocent ,hero before the altar at 
the moment of the wedding1 and in the   
presence of her family and many         
witnesses1 is put to shame by a most    
degrading charge1 false indeed1 yet     
clothed with every appearance of truth1 
is a grand piece of theatrical effect in
 the true and justifiable sense4 ,the   
impression would have been too tragical 
had not ,shakspeare carefully softened  
it in order to prepare for a fortunate  
catastrophe4 ,the discovery of the plot 
against ,hero has been already partly   
made1 though not by the persons         
interested2 and the poet has contrived1 
by means of the blundering simplicity of
 a couple of constables and watchmen1 to
 convert the arrest and the examination 
of the guilty individuals into scenes   
full of the most delightful amusement4  
,there is also a second piece of        
theatrical effect not inferior to the   
first1 where ,claudio1 now convinced of 

his error1 and in obedience to the      
penance laid on his fault1 thinking to  
give his hand to a relation of his      
injured bride1 whom he supposes dead1   
discovers on her unmasking1 ,hero       
herself4 ,the extraordinary success of  
this play in ,shakspeare's own day1 and 
even since in ,england1 is1 however1 to 
be ascribed more particularly to the    
parts of ,benedict and ,beatrice1 two   
humoursome beings1 who incessantly      
attack each other with all the resources
 of raillery4 ,avowed rebels to love1   
they are both entangled in its net by a 
merry plot of their friends to make them
 believe that each is the object of the 
secret passion of the other4 ,some one  
or other1 not over-stocked with         
penetration has objected to the same    
artifice being twice used in entrapping 
them2 the drollery1 however1 lies in the
 very symmetry of the deception4 ,their 
friends attribute the whole effect to   
their own device2 but the exclusive     
direction of their raillery against each

 other is in itself a proof of a growing
 inclination4 ,their witty vivacity does
 not even abandon them in the avowal of 
love2 and their behaviour only assumes a
 serious appearance for the purpose of  
defending the slandered ,hero4 ,this is 
exceedingly well imagined2 the lovers of
 jesting must fix a point beyond which  
they are not to indulge in their humour1
 if they would not be mistaken for      
buffoons by trade4  ,in ,measure for    
,measure ,shakspeare was compelled1 by  
the nature of the subject1 to make his  
poetry more familiar with criminal      
justice than is usual with him4 ,all    
kinds of proceedings connected with the 
subject1 all sorts of active or passive 
persons1 pass in review before us3 the  
hypocritical ,lord ,deputy1 the         
compassionate ,provost1 and the         
hard-hearted ,hangman2 a young man of   
quality who is to suffer for the        
seduction of his mistress before        
marriage1 loose wretches brought in by  
the police1 nay1 even a hardened        

criminal1 whom even the preparations for
 his execution cannot awaken out of his 
callousness4 ,but yet1 notwithstanding  
this agitating truthfulness1 how tender 
and mild is the pervading tone of the   
picture6 ,the piece takes improperly its
 name from punishment2 the true         
significance of the whole is the triumph
 of mercy over strict justice2 no man   
being himself so free from errors as to 
be entitled to deal it out to his       
equals4 ,the most beautiful             
embellishment of the composition is the 
character of ,isabella1 who1 on the     
point of taking the veil1 is yet        
prevailed upon by sisterly affection to 
tread again the perplexing ways of the  
world1 while1 amid the general          
corruption1 the heavenly purity of her  
mind is not even stained with one unholy
 thought3 in the humble robes of the    
novice she is a very angel of light4    
,when the cold and stern ,angelo1       
heretofore of unblemished reputation1   
whom the ,duke has commissioned1 during 

his pretended absence1 to restrain1 by a
 rigid administration of the laws1 the  
excesses of dissolute immorality1 is    
even himself tempted by the virgin      
charms of ,isabella1 supplicating for   
the pardon of her brother ,claudio1     
condemned to death for a youthful       
indiscretion2 when at first1 in timid   
and obscure language1 he insinuates1 but
 at last impudently avouches his        
readiness to grant ,claudio's life to   
the sacrifice of her honour2 when       
,isabella repulses his offer with a     
noble scorn2 in her account of the      
interview to her brother1 when the      
latter at first applauds her conduct1   
but at length1 overcome by the fear of  
death1 strives to persuade her to       
consent to dishonour2--in these masterly
 scenes1 ,shakspeare has sounded the    
depths of the human heart4 ,the interest
 here reposes altogether on the         
represented action2 curiosity           
contributes nothing to our delight1 for 
the ,duke1 in the disguise of a ,monk1  

is always present to watch over his     
dangerous representative1 and to avert  
every evil which could possibly be      
apprehended2 we look to him with        
confidence for a happy result4 ,the     
,duke acts the part of the ,monk        
naturally1 even to deception2 he unites 
in his person the wisdom of the priest  
and the prince4 ,only in his wisdom he  
is too fond of round-about ways2 his    
vanity is flattered with acting         
invisibly like an earthly providence2 he
 takes more pleasure in overhearing his 
subjects than governing them in the     
customary way of princes4 ,as he        
ultimately extends a free pardon to all 
the guilty1 we do not see how his       
original purpose1 in committing the     
execution of the laws to other hands1 of
 restoring their strictness1 has in any 
wise been accomplished4 ,the poet might 
have had this irony in view1 that of the
 numberless slanders of the ,duke1 told 
him by the petulant ,lucio1 in ignorance
 of the person whom he is addressing1   

that at least which regarded his        
singularities and whims was not wholly  
without foundation4 ,it is deserving of 
remark1 that ,shakspeare1 amidst the    
rancour of religious parties1 takes a   
delight in painting the condition of a  
monk1 and always represents his         
influence as beneficial4 ,we find in him
 none of the black and knavish monks1   
which an enthusiasm for ,protestantism1 
rather than poetical inspiration1 has   
suggested to some of our modern poets4  
,shakspeare merely gives his monks an   
inclination to busy themselves in the   
affairs of others1 after renouncing the 
world for themselves2 with respect1     
however1 to pious frauds1 he does not   
represent them as very conscientious4   
,such are the parts acted by the monk in
 ,romeo and ,juliet1 and another in     
,much ,ado about ,nothing1 and even by  
the ,duke1 whom1 contrary to the        
well-known proverb1 the cowl seems      
really to make a monk4  ,the ,merchant  
of ,venice is one of ,shakspeare's most 

perfect works3 popular to an            
extraordinary degree1 and calculated to 
produce the most powerful effect on the 
stage1 and at the same time a wonder of 
ingenuity and art for the reflecting    
critic4 ,shylock1 the ,jew1 is one of   
the inimitable masterpieces of          
characterization which are to be found  
only in ,shakspeare4 ,it is easy for    
both poet and player to exhibit a       
caricature of national sentiments1 modes
 of speaking1 and gestures4 ,shylock1   
however1 is everything but a common     
,jew3 he possesses a strongly-marked and
 original individuality1 and yet we     
perceive a light touch of ,judaism in   
everything he says or does4 ,we almost  
fancy we can hear a light whisper of the
 ,jewish accent even in the written     
words1 such as we sometimes still find  
in the higher classes1 notwithstanding  
their social refinement4 ,in tranquil   
moments1 all that is foreign to the     
,european blood and ,christian          
sentiments is less perceptible1 but in  

passion the national stamp comes out    
more strongly marked4 ,all these        
inimitable niceties the finished art of 
a great actor can alone properly        
express4 ,shylock is a man of           
information1 in his own way1 even a     
thinker1 only he has not discovered the 
region where human feelings dwell2 his  
morality is founded on the disbelief in 
goodness and magnanimity4 ,the desire to
 avenge the wrongs and indignities      
heaped upon his nation is1 after        
avarice1 his strongest spring of action4
 ,his hate is naturally directed chiefly
 against those ,christians who are      
actuated by truly ,christian sentiments3
 a disinterested love of our neighbour  
seems to him the most unrelenting       
persecution of the ,jews4 ,the letter of
 the law is his idol2 he refuses to lend
 an ear to the voice of mercy1 which1   
from the mouth of ,portia1 speaks to him
 with heavenly eloquence3 he insists on 
rigid and inflexible justice1 and at    
last it recoils on his own head4 ,thus  

he becomes a symbol of the general      
history of his unfortunate nation4 ,the 
melancholy and self-sacrificing         
magnanimity of ,antonio is affectingly  
sublime4 ,like a princely merchant1 he  
is surrounded with a whole train of     
noble friends4 ,the contrast which this 
forms to the selfish cruelty of the     
usurer ,shylock was necessary to redeem 
the honour of human nature4 ,the danger 
which almost to the close of the fourth 
act1 hangs over ,antonio1 and which the 
imagination is almost afraid to         
approach1 would fill the mind with too  
painful anxiety1 if the poet did not    
also provide for its recreation and     
diversion4 ,this is effected in an      
especial manner by the scenes at        
,portia's country-seat1 which transport 
the spectator into quite another world4 
,and yet they are closely connected with
 the main business by the chain of cause
 and effect3 ,bassanio's preparations   
for his courtship are the cause of      
,antonio's subscribing the dangerous    

bond2 and ,portia again1 by the counsel 
and advice of her uncle1 a famous       
lawyer1 effects the safety of her       
lover's friend4 ,but the relations of   
the dramatic composition are the while  
admirably observed in yet another       
respect4 ,the trial between ,shylock and
 ,antonio is indeed recorded as being a 
real event1 still1 for all that1 it must
 ever remain an unheard-of and singular 
case4 ,shakspeare has therefore         
associated it with a love intrigue not  
less extraordinary3 the one consequently
 is rendered natural and probable by    
means of the other4 ,a rich1 beautiful  
and clever heiress1 who can only be won 
by the solving the riddle--the locked   
caskets--the foreign princes1 who come  
to try the venture--all this powerfully 
excites the imagination with the        
splendour of an olden tale of marvels4  
,the two scenes in which1 first the     
,prince of ,morocco1 in the language of 
,eastern hyperbole1 and then the        
self-conceited ,prince of ,arragon1 make

 their choice among the caskets1 serve  
merely to raise our curiosity1 and give 
employment to our wits2 but on the      
third1 where the two lovers stand       
trembling before the inevitable choice1 
which in one moment must unite or       
separate them for ever1 ,shakspeare has 
lavished all the charms of feeling--all 
the magic of poesy4 ,we share in the    
rapture of ,portia and ,bassanio at the 
fortunate choice3 we easily conceive why
 they are so fond of each other1 for    
they are both most deserving of love4   
,the judgment scene1 with which the     
fourth act is occupied1 is in itself a  
perfect drama1 concentrating in itself  
the interest of the whole4 ,the knot is 
now untied1 and according to the common 
ideas of theatrical satisfaction1 the   
curtain ought to drop4 ,but the poet was
 unwilling to dismiss his audience with 
the gloomy impressions which ,antonio's 
acquittal1 effected with so much        
difficulty1 and contrary to all         
expectation1 and the condemnation of    

,shylock1 were calculated to leave      
behind them2 he has therefore added the 
fifth act by way of a musical afterlude 
in the piece itself4 ,the episode of    
,jessica1 the fugitive daughter of the  
,jew1 in whom ,shakspeare has contrived 
to throw a veil of sweetness over the   
national features1 and the artifice by  
which ,portia and her companion are     
enabled to rally their newly-married    
husbands1 supply him with the necessary 
materials4 ,the scene opens with the    
playful prattling of two lovers in a    
summer evening2 it is followed by soft  
music1 and a rapturous eulogy on this   
powerful disposer of the human mind and 
the world2 the principal characters then
 make their appearance1 and after a     
simulated quarrel1 which is gracefully  
maintained1 the whole end with the most 
exhilarating mirth4  ,as ,you ,like ,it 
is a piece of an entirely different     
description4 ,it would be difficult to  
bring the contents within the compass of
 an ordinary narrative2 nothing takes   

place1 or rather what is done is not so 
essential as what is said2 even what may
 be called the dnouement is brought     
about pretty arbitrarily4 ,whoever can  
perceive nothing but what can as it were
 be counted on the fingers1 will hardly 
be disposed to allow that it has any    
plan at all4 ,banishment and flight have
 assembled together1 in the forest of   
,arden1 a strange band3 a ,duke         
dethroned by his brother1 who1 with the 
faithful companions of his misfortune1  
lives in the wilds on the produce of the
 chase2 two disguised ,princesses1 who  
love each other with a sisterly         
affection2 a witty court fool2 lastly1  
the native inhabitants of the forest1   
ideal and natural shepherds and         
shepherdesses4 ,these lightly- sketched 
figures form a motley and diversified   
train2 we see always the shady          
dark-green landscape in the background1 
and breathe in imagination the fresh air
 of the forest4 ,the hours are here     
measured by no clocks1 no regulated     

recurrence of duty or of toil3 they flow
 on unnumbered by voluntary occupation  
or fanciful idleness1 to which1         
according to his humour or disposition1 
every one yields himself1 and this      
unrestrained freedom compensates them   
all for the lost conveniences of life4  
,one throws himself down in solitary    
meditation under a tree1 and indulges in
 melancholy reflections on the changes  
of fortune1 the falsehood of the world1 
and the self-inflicted torments of      
social life2 others make the woods      
resound with social and festive songs1  
to the accompaniment of their           
hunting-horns4 ,selfishness1 envy1 and  
ambition1 have been left behind in the  
city2 of all the human passions1 love   
alone has found an entrance into this   
wilderness1 where it dictates the same  
language alike to the simple shepherd   
and the chivalrous youth1 who hangs his 
love-ditty to a tree4 ,a prudish        
shepherdess falls at first sight in love
 with ,rosalind1 disguised in men's     

apparel2 the latter sharply reproaches  
her with her severity to her poor lover1
 and the pain of refusal1 which she     
feels from experience in her own case1  
disposes her at length to compassion and
 requital4 ,the fool carries his        
philosophical contempt of external show1
 and his raillery of the illusion of    
love so far1 that he purposely seeks out
 the ugliest and simplest country wench 
for a mistress4 ,throughout the whole   
picture1 it seems to be the poet's      
design to show that to call forth the   
poetry which has its indwelling in      
nature and the human mind1 nothing is   
wanted but to throw off all artificial  
constraint1 and restore both to mind and
 nature their original liberty4 ,in the 
very progress of the piece1 the dreamy  
carelessness of such an existence is    
sensibly expressed3 it is even alluded  
to by ,shakspeare in the title4 ,whoever
 affects to be displeased1 if in this   
romantic forest the ceremonial of       
dramatic art is not duly observed1 ought

 in justice to be delivered over to the 
wise fool1 to be led gently out of it to
 some prosaical region4  ,the ,twelfth  
,night1 or ,what you ,will1 unites the  
entertainment of an intrigue1 contrived 
with great ingenuity1 to a rich fund of 
comic characters and situations1 and the
 beauteous colours of an ethereal       
poetry4 ,in most of his plays1          
,shakspeare treats love more as an      
affair of the imagination than the      
heart2 but here he has taken particular 
care to remind us that1 in his language1
 the same word1 fancy1 signified both   
fancy and love4 ,the love of the        
music-enraptured ,duke for ,olivia is   
not merely a fancy1 but an imagination2 
,viola appears at first to fall         
arbitrarily in love with the ,duke1 whom
 she serves as a page1 although she     
afterwards touches the tenderest strings
 of feeling2 the proud ,olivia is       
captivated by the modest and insinuating
 messenger of the ,duke1 in whom she is 
far from suspecting a disguised rival1  

and at last1 by a second deception1     
takes the brother for the sister4 ,to   
these1 which ,i might call ideal        
follies1 a contrast is formed by the    
naked absurdities to which the          
entertaining tricks of the ludicrous    
persons of the piece give rise1 under   
the pretext also of love3 the silly and 
profligate ,knight's awkward courtship  
of ,olivia1 and her declaration of love 
to ,viola2 the imagination of the       
pedantic steward ,malvolio1 that his    
mistress is secretly in love with him1  
which carries him so far that he is at  
last shut up as a lunatic1 and visited  
by the clown in the dress of a priest4  
,these scenes are admirably conceived1  
and as significant as they are          
laughable4 ,if this were really1 as is  
asserted1 ,shakspeare's latest work1 he 
must have enjoyed to the last the same  
youthful elasticity of mind1 and have   
carried with him to the grave the       
undiminished fulness of his talents4    
,the ,merry ,wives of ,windsor1 though  

properly a comedy in the usual          
acceptation of the word1 we shall pass  
over at present1 till we come to speak  
of ,henry the ,fourth1 that we may give 
our opinion of the character of         
,falstaff in connexion4  ,the ,midsummer
 ,night's ,dream and ,the ,tempest1 may 
be in so far compared together that in  
both the influence of a wonderful world 
of spirits is interwoven with the       
turmoil of human passions and with the  
farcical adventures of folly4 ,the      
,midsummer ,night's ,dream is certainly 
an earlier production2 but ,the         
,tempest1 according to all appearance1  
was written in ,shakspeare's later days3
 hence most critics1 on the supposition 
that the poet must have continued to    
improve with increasing maturity of     
mind1 have honoured the last piece with 
a marked preference4 ,i cannot1 however1
 altogether concur with them3 the       
internal merit of these two works are1  
in my opinion1 pretty nearly balanced1  
and a predilection for the one or the   

other can only be governed by personal  
taste4 ,in profound and original        
characterization the superiority of ,the
 ,tempest is obvious3 as a whole we must
 always admire the masterly skill which 
he has here displayed in the economy of 
his means1 and the dexterity with which 
he has disguised his preparations1--the 
scaffoldings for the wonderful arial    
structure4 ,in ,the ,midsummer ,night's 
,dream1 on the other hand1 there flows a
 luxuriant vein of the boldest and most 
fantastical invention2 the most         
extraordinary combination of the most   
dissimilar ingredients seems to have    
been brought about without effort by    
some ingenious and lucky accident1 and  
the colours are of such clear           
transparency that we think the whole of 
the variegated fabric may be blown away 
with a breath4 ,the fairy world here    
described resembles those elegant pieces
 of arabesque1 where little genii with  
butterfly wings rise1 half embodied1    
above the flower-cups4 ,twilight1       

moonshine1 dew1 and spring perfumes1 are
 the element of these tender spirits2   
they assist nature in embroidering her  
carpet with green leaves1 many-coloured 
flowers1 and glittering insects2 in the 
human world they do but make sport      
childishly and waywardly with their     
beneficent or noxious influences4 ,their
 most violent rage dissolves in         
good-natured raillery2 their passions1  
stripped of all earthly matter1 are     
merely an ideal dream4 ,to correspond   
with this1 the loves of mortals are     
painted as a poetical enchantment1      
which1 by a contrary enchantment1 may be
 immediately suspended1 and then renewed
 again4 ,the different parts of the     
plot2 the wedding of ,theseus and       
,hippolyta1 ,oberon and ,titania's      
quarrel1 the flight of the two pair of  
lovers1 and the theatrical manoeuvres of
 the mechanics1 are so lightly and      
happily interwoven that they seem       
necessary to each other for the         
formation1 of a whole4 ,oberon is       

desirous of relieving the lovers from   
their perplexities1 but greatly adds to 
them through the mistakes of his        
minister1 till he at last comes really  
to the aid of their fruitless amorous   
pain1 their inconstancy and jealousy1   
and restores fidelity to its old rights4
 ,the extremes of fanciful and vulgar   
are united when the enchanted ,titania  
awakes and falls in love with a coarse  
mechanic with an ass's head1 who        
represents1 or rather disfigures1 the   
part of a tragical lover4 ,the droll    
wonder of ,bottom's transformation is   
merely the translation of a metaphor in 
its literal sense2 but in his behaviour 
during the tender homage of the ,fairy  
,queen we have an amusing proof how much
 the consciousness of such a head-dress 
heightens the effect of his usual folly4
 ,theseus and ,hippolyta are1 as it     
were1 a splendid frame for the picture2 
they take no part in the action1 but    
surround it with a stately pomp4 ,the   
discourse of the hero and his ,amazon1  

as they course through the forest with  
their noisy hunting-train1 works upon   
the imagination like the fresh breath of
 morning1 before which the shapes of    
night disappear4 ,pyramus and ,thisbe is
 not unmeaningly chosen as the grotesque
 play within the play2 it is exactly    
like the pathetic part of the piece1 a  
secret meeting of two lovers in the     
forest1 and their separation by an      
unfortunate accident1 and closes the    
whole with the most amusing parody4     
,the ,tempest has little action or      
progressive movement2 the union of      
,ferdinand and ,miranda is settled at   
their first interview1 and ,prospero    
merely throws apparent obstacles in     
their way2 the shipwrecked band go      
leisurely about the island2 the attempts
 of ,sebastian and ,antonio on the life 
of the ,king of ,naples1 and the plot of
 ,caliban and the drunken sailors       
against ,prospero1 are nothing but a    
feint1 for we foresee that they will be 
completely frustrated by the magical    

skill of the latter2 nothing remains    
therefore but the punishment of the     
guilty by dreadful sights which harrow  
up their consciences1 and then the      
discovery and final reconciliation4 ,yet
 this want of movement is so admirably  
concealed by the most varied display of 
the fascinations of poetry1 and the     
exhilaration of mirth1 the details of   
the execution are so very attractive1   
that it requires no small degree of     
attention to perceive that the dnouement
 is1 in some degree1 anticipated in the 
exposition4 ,the history of the loves of
 ,ferdinand and ,miranda1 developed in a
 few short scenes1 is enchantingly      
beautiful3 an affecting union of        
chivalrous magnanimity on the one part1 
and on the other of the virgin openness 
of a heart which1 brought up far from   
the world on an uninhabited island1 has 
never learned to disguise its innocent  
movements4 ,the wisdom of the princely  
hermit ,prospero has a magical and      
mysterious air2 the disagreeable        

impression left by the black falsehood  
of the two usurpers is softened by the  
honest gossipping of the old and        
faithful ,gonzalo2 ,trinculo and        
,stephano1 two good-for-nothing         
drunkards1 find a worthy associate in   
,caliban2 and ,ariel hovers sweetly over
 the whole as the personified genius of 
the wonderful fable4  ,caliban has      
become a by-word as the strange creation
 of a poetical imagination4 ,a mixture  
of gnome and savage1 half daemon1 half  
brute1 in his behaviour we perceive at  
once the traces of his native           
disposition1 and the influence of       
,prospero's education4 ,the latter could
 only unfold his understanding1 without1
 in the slightest degree1 taming his    
rooted malignity3 it is as if the use of
 reason and human speech were           
communicated to an awkward ape4 ,in     
inclination ,caliban is maliciously     
cowardly1 false1 and base2 and yet he is
 essentially different from the vulgar  
knaves of a civilized world1 as         

portrayed occasionally by ,shakspeare4  
,he is rude1 but not vulgar2 he never   
falls into the prosaic and low          
familiarity of his drunken associates1  
for he is1 in his way1 a poetical being2
 he always speaks in verse4 ,he has     
picked up every thing dissonant and     
thorny in language to compose out of it 
a vocabulary of his own2 and of the     
whole variety of nature1 the hateful1   
repulsive1 and pettily deformed1 have   
alone been impressed on his imagination4
 ,the magical world of spirits1 which   
the staff of ,prospero has assembled on 
the island1 casts merely a faint        
reflection into his mind1 as a ray of   
light which falls into a dark cave1     
incapable of communicating to it either 
heat or illumination1 serves merely to  
set in motion the poisonous vapours4    
,the delineation of this monster is     
throughout inconceivably consistent and 
profound1 and1 notwithstanding its      
hatefulness1 by no means hurtful to our 
feelings1 as the honour of human nature 

is left untouched4  ,in the zephyr-like 
,ariel the image of air is not to be    
mistaken1 his name even bears an        
allusion to it2 as1 on the other hand   
,caliban signifies the heavy element of 
earth4 ,yet they are neither of them    
simple1 allegorical personifications but
 beings individually determined4 ,in    
general we find in ,the ,midsummer      
,night's ,dream1 in ,the ,tempest1 in   
the magical part of ,macbeth1 and       
wherever ,shakspeare avails himself of  
the popular belief in the invisible     
presence of spirits1 and the possibility
 of coming in contact with them1 a      
profound view of the inward life of     
nature and her mysterious springs1      
which1 it is true1 can never be         
altogether unknown to the genuine poet1 
as poetry is altogether incompatible    
with mechanical physics1 but which few  
have possessed in an equal degree with  
,dante and himself4  ,the ,winter's     
,tale is as appropriately named as ,the 
,midsummer ,night's ,dream4 ,it is one  

of those tales which are peculiarly     
calculated to beguile the dreary leisure
 of a long winter evening1 and are even 
attractive and intelligible to          
childhood1 while animated by fervent    
truth in the delineation of character   
and passion1 and invested with the      
embellishments of poetry lowering       
itself1 as it were1 to the simplicity of
 the subject1 they transport even       
manhood back to the golden age of       
imagination4 ,the calculation of        
probabilities has nothing to do with    
such wonderful and fleeting adventures1 
when all end at last in universal joy2  
and1 accordingly1 ,shakspeare has here  
taken the greatest license of           
anachronisms and geographical errors2   
not to mention other incongruities1 he  
opens a free navigation between ,sicily 
and ,bohemia1 makes ,giulio ,romano the 
contemporary of the ,delphic oracle4    
,the piece divides itself in some degree
 into two plays4 ,leontes becomes       
suddenly jealous of his royal           

bosom-friend ,polyxenes1 who is on a    
visit to his court2 makes an attempt on 
his life1 from which ,polyxenes only    
saves himself by a clandestine          
flight2--,hermione1 suspected of        
infidelity1 is thrown into prison1 and  
the daughter which she there brings into
 the world is exposed on a remote       
coast2--the accused ,queen1 declared    
innocent by the oracle1 on learning that
 her infant son has pined to death on   
her account1 falls down in a swoon1 and 
is mourned as dead by her husband1 who  
becomes sensible1 when too late1 of his 
error3 all this makes up the three first
 acts4 ,the last two are separated from 
these by a chasm of sixteen years2 but  
the foregoing tragical catastrophe was  
only apparent1 and this serves to       
connect the two parts4 ,the ,princess1  
who has been exposed on the coast of    
,polyxenes's kingdom1 grows up among low
 shepherds2 but her tender beauty1 her  
noble manners1 and elevation of         
sentiment1 bespeak her descent2 the     

,crown ,prince ,florizel1 in the course 
of his hawking1 falls in with her1      
becomes enamoured1 and courts her in the
 disguise of a shepherd2 at a rural     
entertainment ,polyxenes discovers their
 attachment1 and breaks out into a      
violent rage2 the two lovers seek refuge
 from his persecutions at the court of  
,leontes in ,sicily1 where the discovery
 and general reconciliation take place4 
,lastly1 when ,leontes beholds1 as he   
imagines1 the statue of his lost wife1  
it descends from the niche3 it is she   
herself1 the still living ,hermione1 who
 has kept herself so long concealed2 and
 the piece ends with universal          
rejoicing4 ,the jealousy of ,leontes is 
not1 like that of ,othello1 developed   
through all its causes1 symptoms and    
variations2 it is brought forward at    
once full grown and mature1 and is      
portrayed as a distempered frenzy4 ,it  
is a passion whose effects the spectator
 is more concerned with than with its   
origin1 and which does not produce the  

catastrophe1 but merely ties the knot of
 the piece4 ,in fact1 the poet might    
perhaps have wished slightly to indicate
 that ,hermione1 though virtuous1 was   
too warm in her efforts to please       
,polyxenes2 and it appears as if this   
germ of inclination first attained its  
proper maturity in their children4      
,nothing can be more fresh and youthful1
 nothing at once so ideally pastoral and
 princely as the love of ,florizel and  
,perdita2 of the prince1 whom love      
converts into a voluntary shepherd2 and 
the princess1 who betrays her exalted   
origin without knowing it1 and in whose 
hands nosegays become crowns4           
,shakspeare has never hesitated to place
 ideal poetry side by side of the most  
vulgar prose3 and in the world of       
reality also this is generally the case4
 ,perdita's foster- father and his son  
are both made simple boors1 that we may 
the more distinctly see how all that    
ennobles her belongs only to herself4   
,autolycus1 the merry pedlar and        

pickpocket1 so inimitably portrayed1 is 
necessary to complete the rustic feast1 
which ,perdita on her part seems to     
render meet for an assemblage of gods in
 disguise4  ,cymbeline is also one of   
,shakspeare's most wonderful            
compositions4 ,he has here combined a   
novel of ,boccacio's with traditionary  
tales of the ancient ,britons reaching  
back to the times of the first ,roman   
,emperors1 and he has contrived1 by the 
most gentle transitions1 to blend       
together into one harmonious whole the  
social manners of the newest times with 
olden heroic deeds1 and even with       
appearances of the gods4  ,in the       
character of ,imogen no one feature of  
female excellence is omitted3 her chaste
 tenderness1 her softness1 and her      
virgin pride1 her boundless resignation1
 and her magnanimity towards her        
mistaken husband1 by whom she is        
unjustly persecuted1 her adventures in  
disguise1 her apparent death1 and her   
recovery1 form altogether a picture     

equally tender and affecting4 ,the two  
,princes1 ,guiderius and ,arviragus1    
both educated in the wilds1 form a noble
 contrast to ,miranda and ,perdita4     
,shakspeare is fond of showing the      
superiority of the natural over the     
artificial4 ,over the art which enriches
 nature1 he somewhere says1 there is a  
higher art created by nature herself4   
,footnote3 ,the passage in ,shakspeare  
here quoted1 taken with the context1    
will not bear the construction of the   
author4 ,the whole runs thus3--   ,yet  
nature is made better by no mean1   ,but
 nature makes that mean3 so1 o'er that  
art   ,which you say adds to nature1 is 
an art   ,that nature makes4 ,you see1  
sweet maid1 we marry   ,a gentler scion 
to the wildest stock2   ,and make       
conceive a bark of baser kind   ,by bud 
of nobler race3 this is an art   ,which 
does mend nature1 change it rather2 but 
,the art itself is nature4              
,winter's ,tale1 ,act iv4 sc4 #c4       
,shakspeare does not here mean to       

institute a comparison between the      
relative excellency of that which is    
innate and that which we owe to         
instruction2 but merely says1 that the  
instruction or art is itself a part of  
nature4 ,the speech is addressed by     
,polyxenes to ,perdita1 to persuade her 
that the changes effected in the        
appearance of flowers by the art of the 
gardener are not to be accounted        
unnatural2 and the expression of making 
conceive a bark of baser kind by bud of 
nobler race 7i4e41 engrafting71 would   
rather lead to the inference1 that the  
mind derived its chief value from the   
influence of culture4--,,trans4 ,as     
,miranda's unconscious and unstudied    
sweetness is more pleasing than those   
charms which endeavour to captivate us  
by the brilliant embellishments of a    
refined cultivation1 so in these two    
youths1 to whom the chase has given     
vigour and hardihood1 but who are       
ignorant of their high destination1 and 
have been brought up apart from human   

society1 we are equally enchanted by a  
nave heroism which leads them to        
anticipate and to dream of deeds of     
valour1 till an occasion is offered     
which they are irresistibly compelled to
 embrace4 ,when ,imogen comes in        
disguise to their cave2 when1 with all  
the innocence of childhood1 ,guiderius  
and ,arviragus form an impassioned      
friendship for the tender boy1 in whom  
they neither suspect a female nor their 
own sister2 when1 on their return from  
the chase1 they find her dead1 then sing
 her to the ground1 and cover the grave 
with flowers3--these scenes might give  
to the most deadened imagination a new  
life for poetry4 ,if a tragical event is
 only apparent1 in such case1 whether   
the spectators are already aware of it  
or ought merely to suspect it1          
,shakspeare always knows how to mitigate
 the impression without weakening it3 he
 makes the mourning musical1 that it may
 gain in solemnity what it loses in     
seriousness4 ,with respect to the other 

parts1 the wise and vigorous ,belarius1 
who after long living as a hermit again 
becomes a hero1 is a venerable figure2  
the ,italian ,iachimo's ready           
dissimulation and quick presence of mind
 is quite suitable to the bold treachery
 which he plays2 ,cymbeline1 the father 
of ,imogen1 and even her husband        
,posthumus1 during the first half of the
 piece1 are somewhat sacrificed1 but    
this could not be otherwise2 the false  
and wicked ,queen is merely an          
instrument of the plot2 she and her     
stupid son ,cloton 7the only comic part 
in the piece7 whose rude arrogance is   
portrayed with much humour1 are1 before 
the conclusion1 got rid of by merited   
punishment4 ,as for the heroical part of
 the fable1 the war between the ,romans 
and ,britons1 which brings on the       
dnouement1 the poet in the extent of his
 plan had so little room to spare1 that 
he merely endeavours to represent it as 
a mute procession4 ,but to the last     
scene1 where all the numerous threads of

 the knot are untied1 he has again given
 its full development1 that he might    
collect together into one focus the     
scattered impressions of the whole4     
,this example and many others are a     
sufficient refutation of ,johnson's     
assertion1 that ,shakspeare usually     
hurries over the conclusion of his      
pieces4 ,rather does he1 from a desire  
to satisfy the feelings1 introduce a    
great deal which1 so far as the         
understanding of the dnouement requires1
 might in a strict sense be justly      
spared3 our modern spectators are much  
more impatient to see the curtain drop1 
when there is nothing more to be        
determined1 than those of his day could 
have been4     ,,lecture ,,xxv4         
,criticisms on ,shakspeare's ,tragedies4
   ,romeo and ,juliet1 and ,othello1    
differ from most of the pieces which we 
have hitherto examined1 neither in the  
ingredients of the composition1 nor in  
the manner of treating them3 it is      
merely the direction of the whole that  

gives them the stamp of ,tragedy4 ,romeo
 and ,juliet is a picture of love and   
its pitiable fate1 in a world whose     
atmosphere is too sharp for this the    
tenderest blossom of human life4 ,two   
beings created for each other feel      
mutual love at the first glance2 every  
consideration disappears before the     
irresistible impulse to live in one     
another2 under circumstances hostile in 
the highest degree to their union1 they 
unite themselves by a secret marriage1  
relying simply on the protection of an  
invisible power4 ,untoward incidents    
following in rapid succession1 their    
heroic constancy is within a few days   
put to the proof1 till1 forcibly        
separated from each other1 by a         
voluntary death they are united in the  
grave to meet again in another world4   
,all this is to be found in the         
beautiful story which ,shakspeare has   
not invented1 and which1 however simply 
told1 will always excite a tender       
sympathy3 but it was reserved for       

,shakspeare to join in one ideal picture
 purity of heart with warmth of         
imagination2 sweetness and dignity of   
manners with passionate intensity of    
feeling4 ,under his handling1 it has    
become a glorious song of praise on that
 inexpressible feeling which ennobles   
the soul and gives to it its highest    
sublimity1 and which elevates even the  
senses into soul1 while at the same time
 it is a melancholy elegy on its        
inherent and imparted frailty2 it is at 
once the apotheosis and the obsequies of
 love4 ,it appears here a heavenly      
spark1 that1 as it descends to the      
earth1 is converted into the lightning  
flash1 which almost in the same moment  
sets on fire and consumes the mortal    
being on whom it lights4 ,all that is   
most intoxicating in the odour of a     
southern spring1--all that is           
languishing in the song of the          
nightingale1 or voluptuous in the first 
opening of the rose1 all alike breathe  
forth from this poem4 ,but even more    

rapidly than the earliest blossoms of   
youth and beauty decay1 does it from the
 first timidly-bold declaration and     
modest return of love hurry on to the   
most unlimited passion1 to an           
irrevocable union2 and then hastens1    
amidst alternating storms of rapture and
 despair1 to the fate of the two lovers1
 who yet appear enviable in their hard  
lot1 for their love survives them1 and  
by their death they have obtained an    
endless triumph over every separating   
power4 ,the sweetest and the bitterest  
love and hatred1 festive rejoicings and 
dark forebodings1 tender embraces and   
sepulchral horrors1 the fulness of life 
and self-annihilation1 are here all     
brought close to each other2 and yet    
these contrasts are so blended into a   
unity of impression1 that the echo which
 the whole leaves behind in the mind    
resembles a single but endless sigh4    
,the excellent dramatic arrangement1 the
 significance of every character in its 
place1 the judicious selection of all   

the circumstances1 even the most minute1
 have already been dwelt upon in detail4
 ,i shall only request attention to a   
trait which may serve for an example of 
the distance to which ,shakspeare goes  
back to lay the preparatory foundation4 
,the most striking and perhaps          
incredible circumstance in the whole    
story is the liquor given by the ,monk  
to ,julia1 by which she for a number of 
hours not merely sleeps1 but fully      
resembles a corpse1 without however     
receiving the least injury4 ,how does   
the poet dispose us to believe that     
,father ,lorenzo possesses such a       
secret8--,at his first appearance he    
exhibits him in a garden1 where he is   
collecting herbs and descanting on their
 wonderful virtues4 ,the discourse of   
the pious old man is full of deep       
meaning3 he sees everywhere in nature   
emblems of the moral world2 the same    
wisdom with which he looks through her  
has also made him master of the human   
heart4 ,in this manner a circumstance of

 an ungrateful appearance1 has become   
the source of a great beauty4  ,if      
,romeo and ,juliet shines with the      
colours of the dawn of morning1 but a   
dawn whose purple clouds already        
announce the thunder of a sultry day1   
,othello is1 on the other hand1 a       
strongly shaded picture3 we might call  
it a tragical ,rembrandt4 ,what a       
fortunate mistake that the ,moor 7under 
which name in the original novel1 a     
baptized ,saracen of the ,northern coast
 of ,africa was unquestionably meant71  
has been made by ,shakspeare in every   
respect a negro6 ,we recognize in       
,othello the wild nature of that glowing
 zone which generates the most ravenous 
beasts of prey and the most deadly      
poisons1 tamed only in appearance by the
 desire of fame1 by foreign laws of     
honour1 and by nobler and milder        
manners4 ,his jealousy is not the       
jealousy of the heart1 which is         
compatible with the tenderest feeling   
and adoration of the beloved object2 it 

is of that sensual kind which1 in       
burning climes1 has given birth to the  
disgraceful confinement of women and    
many other unnatural usages4 ,a drop of 
this poison flows in his veins1 and sets
 his whole blood in the wildest ferment4
 ,the ,moor seems noble1 frank1         
confiding1 grateful for the love shown  
him2 and he is all this1 and1 moreover1 
a hero who spurns at danger1 a worthy   
leader of an army1 a faithful servant of
 the state2 but the mere physical force 
of passion puts to flight in one moment 
all his acquired and mere habitual      
virtues1 and gives the upper hand to the
 savage over the moral man4 ,this       
tyranny of the blood over the will      
betrays itself even in the expression of
 his desire of revenge upon ,cassio4 ,in
 his repentance1 a genuine tenderness   
for his murdered wife1 and in the       
presence of the damning evidence of his 
deed1 the painful feeling of annihilated
 honour at last bursts forth2 and in the
 midst of these painful emotions he     

assails himself with the rage wherewith 
a despot punishes a runaway slave4 ,he  
suffers as a double man2 at once in the 
higher and the lower sphere into which  
his being was divided4--,while the ,moor
 bears the nightly colour of suspicion  
and deceit only on his visage1 ,iago is 
black within4 ,he haunts ,othello like  
his evil genius1 and with his light 7and
 therefore the more dangerous17         
insinuations1 he leaves him no rest2 it 
is as if by means of an unfortunate     
affinity1 founded however in nature1    
this influence was by necessity more    
powerful over him than the voice of his 
good angel ,desdemona4 ,a more artful   
villain than this ,iago was never       
portrayed2 he spreads his nets with a   
skill which nothing can escape4 ,the    
repugnance inspired by his aims becomes 
tolerable from the attention of the     
spectators being directed to his means3 
these furnish endless employment to the 
understanding4 ,cool1 discontented1 and 
morose1 arrogant where he dare be so1   

but humble and insinuating when it suits
 his purposes1 he is a complete master  
in the art of dissimulation2 accessible 
only to selfish emotions1 he is         
thoroughly skilled in rousing the       
passions of others1 and of availing     
himself of every opening which they give
 him3 he is as excellent an observer of 
men as any one can be who is            
unacquainted with higher motives of     
action from his own experience2 there is
 always some truth in his malicious     
observations on them4 ,he does not      
merely pretend an obdurate incredulity  
as to the virtue of women1 he actually  
entertains it2 and this1 too1 falls in  
with his whole way of thinking1 and     
makes him the more fit for the execution
 of his purpose4 ,as in every thing he  
sees merely the hateful side1 he        
dissolves in the rudest manner the charm
 which the imagination casts over the   
relation between the two sexes3 he does 
so for the purpose of revolting         
,othello's senses1 whose heart otherwise

 might easily have convinced him of     
,desdemona's innocence4 ,this must serve
 as an excuse for the numerous          
expressions in the speeches of ,iago    
from which modesty shrinks4 ,if         
,shakespeare had written in our days he 
would not perhaps have dared to hazard  
them2 and yet this must certainly have  
greatly injured the truth of his        
picture4 ,desdemona is a sacrifice      
without blemish4 ,she is not1 it is     
true1 a high ideal representation of    
sweetness and enthusiastic passion like 
,juliet2 full of simplicity1 softness1  
and humility1 and so innocent1 that she 
can hardly form to herself an idea of   
the possibility of infidelity1 she seems
 calculated to make the most yielding   
and tenderest of wives4 ,the female     
propensity wholly to resign itself to a 
foreign destiny has led her into the    
only fault of her life1 that of marrying
 without her father's consent4 ,her     
choice seems wrong2 and yet she has been
 gained over to ,othello by that which  

induces the female to honour in man her 
protector and guide1-- admiration of his
 determined heroism1 and compassion for 
the sufferings which he had undergone4  
,with great art it is so contrived1 that
 from the very circumstance that the    
possibility of a suspicion of her own   
purity of motive never once enters her  
mind1 she is the less reserved in her   
solicitations for ,cassio1 and thereby  
does but heighten more and more the     
jealousy of ,othello4 ,to throw out     
still more clearly the angelic purity of
 ,desdemona1 ,shakspeare has in ,emilia 
associated with her a companion of      
doubtful virtue4 ,from the sinful levity
 of this woman it is also conceivable   
that she should not confess the         
abstraction of the handkerchief when    
,othello violently demands it back3 this
 would otherwise be the circumstance in 
the whole piece the most difficult to   
justify4 ,cassio is portrayed exactly as
 he ought to be to excite suspicion     
without actual guilt1--amiable and nobly

 disposed1 but easily seduced4 ,the     
public events of the first two acts show
 us ,othello in his most glorious       
aspect1 as the support of ,venice and   
the terror of the ,turks3 they serve to 
withdraw the story from the mere        
domestic circle1 just as this is done in
 ,romeo and ,juliet by the dissensions  
between the houses of ,montague and     
,capulet4 ,no eloquence is capable of   
painting the overwhelming force of the  
catastrophe in ,othello1--the pressure  
of feelings which measure out in a      
moment the abysses of eternity4  ,hamlet
 is singular in its kind3 a tragedy of  
thought inspired by continual and       
never-satisfied meditation on human     
destiny and the dark perplexity of the  
events of this world1 and calculated to 
call forth the very same meditation in  
the minds of the spectators4 ,this      
enigmatical work resembles those        
irrational equations in which a fraction
 of unknown magnitude always remains1   
that will in no way admit of solution4  

,much has been said1 much written1 on   
this piece1 and yet no thinking head who
 anew expresses himself on it1 will 7in 
his view of the connexion and the       
signification of all the parts7 entirely
 coincide with his predecessors4 ,what  
naturally most astonishes us1 is the    
fact that with such hidden purposes1    
with a foundation laid in such          
unfathomable depth1 the whole should1 at
 a first view1 exhibit an extremely     
popular appearance4 ,the dread          
appearance of the ,ghost takes          
possession of the mind and the          
imagination almost at the very          
commencement2 then the play within the  
play1 in which1 as in a glass1 we see   
reflected the crime1 whose fruitlessly  
attempted punishment constitutes the    
subject-matter of the piece2 the alarm  
with which it fills the ,king2 ,hamlet's
 pretended and ,ophelia's real madness2 
her death and burial2 the meeting of    
,hamlet and ,laertes at her grave2 their
 combat1 and the grand determination2   

lastly1 the appearance of the young hero
 ,fortinbras1 who1 with warlike pomp1   
pays the last honours to an extinct     
family of kings2 the interspersion of   
comic characteristic scenes with        
,polonius1 the courtiers1 and the       
grave-diggers1 which have all of them   
their signification1--all this fills the
 stage with an animated and varied      
movement4 ,the only circumstance from   
which this piece might be judged to be  
less theatrical than other tragedies of 
,shakspeare is1 that in the last scenes 
the main action either stands still or  
appears to retrograde4 ,this1 however1  
was inevitable1 and lay in the nature of
 the subject4 ,the whole is intended to 
show that a calculating consideration1  
which exhausts all the relations and    
possible consequences of a deed1 must   
cripple the power of acting2 as ,hamlet 
himself expresses it3--    ,and thus the
 native hue of resolution   ,is sicklied
 o'er with the pale cast of thought2    
,and enterprises of great pith and      

moment1   ,with this regard1 their      
currents turn awry1   ,and lose the name
 of action4  ,with respect to ,hamlet's 
character3 ,i cannot1 as ,i understand  
the poet's views1 pronounce altogether  
so favourable a sentence upon it as     
,goethe does4 ,he is1 it is true1 of a  
highly cultivated mind1 a prince of     
royal manners1 endowed with the finest  
sense of propriety1 susceptible of noble
 ambition1 and open in the highest      
degree to an enthusiastic admiration of 
that excellence in others of which he   
himself is deficient4 ,he acts the part 
of madness with unrivalled power1       
convincing the persons who are sent to  
examine into his supposed loss of       
reason1 merely by telling them unwelcome
 truths1 and rallying them with the most
 caustic wit4 ,but in the resolutions   
which he so often embraces and always   
leaves unexecuted1 his weakness is too  
apparent3 he does himself only justice  
when he implies that there is no greater
 dissimilarity than between himself and 

,hercules4 ,he is not solely impelled by
 necessity to artifice and              
dissimulation1 he has a natural         
inclination for crooked ways2 he is a   
hypocrite towards himself2 his          
far-fetched scruples are often mere     
pretexts to cover his want of           
determination3 thoughts1 as he says on a
 different occasion1 which have         
----but one part wisdom   ,and ever     
three parts coward4-----  ,he has been  
chiefly condemned both for his harshness
 in repulsing the love of ,ophelia1     
which he himself had cherished1 and for 
his insensibility at her death4 ,but he 
is too much overwhelmed with his own    
sorrow to have any compassion to spare  
for others2 besides his outward         
indifference gives us by no means the   
measure of his internal perturbation4   
,on the other hand1 we evidently        
perceive in him a malicious joy1 when he
 has succeeded in getting rid of his    
enemies1 more through necessity and     
accident1 which alone are able to impel 

him to quick and decisive measures1 than
 by the merit of his own courage1 as he 
himself confesses after the murder of   
,polonius1 and with respect to          
,rosencrantz and ,guildenstern4 ,hamlet 
has no firm belief either in himself or 
in anything else3 from expressions of   
religious confidence he passes over to  
sceptical doubts2 he believes in the    
,ghost of his father as long as he sees 
it1 but as soon as it has disappeared1  
it appears to him almost in the light of
 a deception4 ,footnote3 ,it has been   
censured as a contradiction1 that       
,hamlet in the soliloquy on self-murder 
should say1   ,the undiscover'd country1
 from whose bourn   ,no traveller       
returns----- ,for was not the ,ghost a  
returned traveller8 ,shakspeare1        
however1 purposely wished to show1 that 
,hamlet could not fix himself in any    
conviction of any kind whatever4 ,he has
 even gone so far as to say1 there is   
nothing either good or bad1 but thinking
 makes it so2 with him the poet loses   

himself here in labyrinths of thought1  
in which neither end nor beginning is   
discoverable4 ,the stars themselves1    
from the course of events1 afford no    
answer to the question so urgently      
proposed to them4 ,a voice from another 
world1 commissioned it would appear1 by 
heaven1 demands vengeance for a         
monstrous enormity1 and the demand      
remains without effect2 the criminals   
are at last punished1 but1 as it were1  
by an accidental blow1 and not in the   
solemn way requisite to convey to the   
world a warning example of justice2     
irresolute foresight1 cunning treachery1
 and impetuous rage1 hurry on to a      
common destruction2 the less guilty and 
the innocent are equally involved in the
 general ruin4 ,the destiny of humanity 
is there exhibited as a gigantic        
,sphinx1 which threatens to precipitate 
into the abyss of scepticism all who are
 unable to solve her dreadful enigmas4  
,as one example of the many niceties of 
,shakspeare which have never been       

understood1 ,i may allude to the style  
in which the player's speech about      
,hecuba is conceived4 ,it has been the  
subject of much controversy among the   
commentators1 whether this was borrowed 
by ,shakspeare from himself or from     
another1 and whether1 in the praise of  
the piece of which it is supposed to be 
a part1 he was speaking seriously1 or   
merely meant to ridicule the tragical   
bombast of his contemporaries4 ,it seems
 never to have occurred to them that    
this speech must not be judged of by    
itself1 but in connexion with the place 
where it is introduced4 ,to distinguish 
it in the play itself as dramatic       
poetry1 it was necessary that it should 
rise above the dignified poetry of the  
former in the same proportion that      
generally theatrical elevation soars    
above simple nature4 ,hence ,shakspeare 
has composed the play in ,hamlet        
altogether in sententious rhymes full of
 antitheses4 ,but this solemn and       
measured tone did not suit a speech in  

which violent emotion ought to prevail1 
and the poet had no other expedient than
 the one of which he made choice3       
overcharging the pathos4 ,the language  
of the speech in question is certainly  
falsely emphatical2 but yet this fault  
is so mixed up with true grandeur1 that 
a player practised in artificially      
calling forth in himself the emotion he 
is imitating1 may certainly be carried  
away by it4 ,besides1 it will hardly be 
believed that ,shakspeare knew so little
 of his art1 as not to be aware that a  
tragedy in which ,aeneas had to make a  
lengthy epic relation of a transaction  
that happened so long before as the     
destruction of ,troy1 could neither be  
dramatical nor theatrical4  ,of ,macbeth
 ,i have already spoken once in passing1
 and who could exhaust the praises of   
this sublime work8 ,since ,the          
,eumenides of ,aeschylus1 nothing so    
grand and terrible has ever been        
written4 ,the witches are not1 it is    
true1 divine ,eumenides1 and are not    

intended to be3 they are ignoble and    
vulgar instruments of hell4 ,a ,german  
poet1 therefore1 very ill understood    
their meaning1 when he transformed them 
into mongrel beings1 a mixture of fates1
 furies1 and enchantresses1 and clothed 
them with tragic dignity4 ,let no man   
venture to lay hand on ,shakspeare's    
works thinking to improve anything      
essential3 he will be sure to punish    
himself4 ,the bad is radically odious1  
and to endeavour in any manner to       
ennoble it1 is to violate the laws of   
propriety4 ,hence1 in my opinion1       
,dante1 and even ,tasso1 have been much 
more successful in their portraiture of 
daemons than ,milton4 ,whether the age  
of ,shakspeare still believed in ghosts 
and witches1 is a matter of perfect     
indifference for the justification of   
the use which in ,hamlet and ,macbeth he
 has made of pre-existing traditions4   
,no superstition can be widely diffused 
without having a foundation in human    
nature3 on this the poet builds2 he     

calls up from their hidden abysses that 
dread of the unknown1 that presage of a 
dark side of nature1 and a world of     
spirits1 which philosophy now imagines  
it has altogether exploded4 ,in this    
manner he is in some degree both the    
portrayer and the philosopher of        
superstition2 that is1 not the          
philosopher who denies and turns it into
 ridicule1 but1 what is still more      
difficult1 who distinctly exhibits its  
origin in apparently irrational and yet 
natural opinions4 ,but when he ventures 
to make arbitrary changes in these      
popular traditions1 he altogether       
forfeits his right to them1 and merely  
holds up his own idle fancies to our    
ridicule4 ,shakspeare's picture of the  
witches is truly magical3 in the short  
scenes where they enter1 he has created 
for them a peculiar language1 which1    
although composed of the usual elements1
 still seems to be a collection of      
formulae of incantation4 ,the sound of  
the words1 the accumulation of rhymes1  

and the rhythmus of the verse1 form1 as 
it were1 the hollow music of a dreary   
witch-dance4 ,he has been abused for    
using the names of disgusting objects2  
but he who fancies the kettle of the    
witches can be made effective with      
agreeable aromatics1 is as wise as those
 who desire that hell should sincerely  
and honestly give good advice4 ,these   
repulsive things1 from which the        
imagination shrinks1 are here emblems of
 the hostile powers which operate in    
nature2 and the repugnance of our senses
 is outweighed by the mental horror4    
,with one another the witches discourse 
like women of the very lowest class2 for
 this was the class to which witches    
were ordinarily supposed to belong3     
when1 however1 they address ,macbeth    
they assume a loftier tone3 their       
predictions1 which they either          
themselves pronounce1 or allow their    
apparitions to deliver1 have all the    
obscure brevity1 the majestic solemnity 
of oracles4  ,we here see that the      

witches are merely instruments2 they are
 governed by an invisible spirit1 or the
 operation of such great and dreadful   
events would be above their sphere4     
,with what intent did ,shakspeare assign
 the same place to them in his play1    
which they occupy in the history of     
,macbeth as related in the old          
chronicles8 ,a monstrous crime is       
committed3 ,duncan1 a venerable old man1
 and the best of kings1 is1 in          
defenceless sleep1 under the hospitable 
roof1 murdered by his subject1 whom he  
has loaded with honours and rewards4    
,natural motives alone seem inadequate1 
or the perpetrator must have been       
portrayed as a hardened villain4        
,shakspeare wished to exhibit a more    
sublime picture3 an ambitious but noble 
hero1 yielding to a deep-laid hellish   
temptation2 and in whom all the crimes  
to which1 in order to secure the fruits 
of his first crime1 he is impelled by   
necessity1 cannot altogether eradicate  
the stamp of native heroism4 ,he has1   

therefore1 given a threefold division to
 the guilt of that crime4 ,the first    
idea comes from that being whose whole  
activity is guided by a lust of         
wickedness4 ,the weird sisters surprise 
,macbeth in the moment of intoxication  
of victory1 when his love of glory has  
been gratified2 they cheat his eyes by  
exhibiting to him as the work of fate   
what in reality can only be accomplished
 by his own deed1 and gain credence for 
all their words by the immediate        
fulfilment of the first prediction4 ,the
 opportunity of murdering the ,king     
immediately offers2 the wife of ,macbeth
 conjures him not to let it slip2 she   
urges him on with a fiery eloquence1    
which has at command all those sophisms 
that serve to throw a false splendour   
over crime4 ,little more than the mere  
execution falls to the share of         
,macbeth2 he is driven into it1 as it   
were1 in a tumult of fascination4       
,repentance immediately follows1 nay1   
even precedes the deed1 and the stings  

of conscience leave him rest neither    
night nor day4 ,but he is now fairly    
entangled in the snares of hell2 truly  
frightful is it to behold that same     
,macbeth1 who once as a warrior could   
spurn at death1 now that he dreads the  
prospect of the life to come ,footnote3 
,we'd jump the life to come41 clinging  
with growing anxiety to his earthly     
existence the more miserable it becomes1
 and pitilessly removing out of the way 
whatever to his dark and suspicious mind
 seems to threaten danger4 ,however much
 we may abhor his actions1 we cannot    
altogether refuse to compassionate the  
state of his mind2 we lament the ruin of
 so many noble qualities1 and even in   
his last defence we are compelled to    
admire the struggle of a brave will with
 a cowardly conscience4 ,we might       
believe that we witness in this tragedy 
the over-ruling destiny of the ancients 
represented in perfect accordance with  
their ideas3 the whole originates in a  
supernatural influence1 to which the    

subsequent events seem inevitably       
linked4 ,moreover1 we even find here the
 same ambiguous oracles which1 by their 
literal fulfilment1 deceive those who   
confide in them4 ,yet it may be easily  
shown that the poet has1 in his work1   
displayed more enlightened views4 ,he   
wishes to show that the conflict of good
 and evil in this world can only take   
place by the permission of ,providence1 
which converts the curse that individual
 mortals draw down on their heads into a
 blessing to others4 ,an accurate scale 
is followed in the retaliation4 ,lady   
,macbeth1 who of all the human          
participators in the king's murder is   
the most guilty1 is thrown by the       
terrors of her conscience into a state  
of incurable bodily and mental disease2 
she dies1 unlamented by her husband1    
with all the symptoms of reprobation4   
,macbeth is still found worthy to die   
the death of a hero on the field of     
battle4 ,the noble ,macduff is allowed  
the satisfaction of saving his country  

by punishing with his own hand the      
tyrant who had murdered his wife and    
children4 ,banquo1 by an early death1   
atones for the ambitious curiosity which
 prompted the wish to know his glorious 
descendants1 as he thereby has roused   
,macbeth's jealousy2 but he preserved   
his mind pure from the evil suggestions 
of the witches3 his name is blessed in  
his race1 destined to enjoy for a long  
succession of ages that royal dignity   
which ,macbeth could only hold for his  
own life4 ,in the progress of the       
action1 this piece is altogether the    
reverse of ,hamlet3 it strides forward  
with amazing rapidity1 from the first   
catastrophe 7for ,duncan's murder may be
 called a catastrophe7 to the last4     
,thought1 and done6 is the general      
motto2 for as ,macbeth says1    ,the    
flighty purpose never is o'ertook1      
,unless the deed go with it4  ,in every 
feature we see an energetic heroic age1 
in the hardy ,north which steels every  
nerve4 ,the precise duration of the     

action cannot be ascertained1--years    
perhaps1 according to the story2 but we 
know that to the imagination the most   
crowded time appears always the         
shortest4 ,here we can hardly conceive  
how so very much could ever have been   
compressed into so narrow a space2 not  
merely external events1--the very inmost
 recesses in the minds of the dramatic  
personages are laid open to us4 ,it is  
as if the drags were taken from the     
wheels of time1 and they rolled along   
without interruption in their descent4  
,nothing can equal this picture in its  
power to excite terror4 ,we need only   
allude to the circumstances attending   
the murder of ,duncan1 the dagger that  
hovers before the eyes of ,macbeth1 the 
vision of ,banquo at the feast1 the     
madness of ,lady ,macbeth2 what can     
possibly be said on the subject that    
will not rather weaken the impression   
they naturally leave8 ,such scenes stand
 alone1 and are to be found only in this
 poet2 otherwise the tragic muse might  

exchange her mask for the head of       
,medusa4  ,i wish merely to point out as
 a secondary circumstance the prudent   
dexterity of ,shakspeare1 who could     
still contrive to flatter a king by a   
work in every part of whose plan        
nevertheless the poetical views are     
evident4 ,james the ,first drew his     
lineage from ,banquo2 he was the first  
who united the threefold sceptre of     
,england1 ,scotland1 and ,ireland3 this 
is foreshown in the magical vision1 when
 a long series of glorious successors is
 promised to ,banquo4 ,even the gift of 
the ,english kings to heal certain      
maladies by the touch1 which ,james     
pretended to have inherited from ,edward
 ,footnote3 ,the naming of ,edward the  
,confessor gives us at the same time the
 epoch in which these historically      
accredited transactions are made to take
 place4 ,the ruins of ,macbeth's palace 
are yet standing at ,inverness2 the     
present ,earls of ,fife are the         
descendants of the valiant ,macduff1 and

 down to the union of ,scotland with    
,england they were in the enjoyment of  
peculiar privileges for their services  
to the crown4 the ,confessor1 and on    
which he set a great value1 is brought  
in very naturally4--,with such          
occasional matters we may well allow    
ourselves to be pleased without fearing 
from them any danger to poetry3 by      
similar allusions ,aeschylus endeavoured
 to recommend the ,areopagus to his     
fellow- citizens1 and ,sophocles to     
celebrate the glory of ,athens4  ,as in 
,macbeth terror reaches its utmost      
height1 in ,king ,lear the science of   
compassion is exhausted4 ,the principal 
characters here are not those who act1  
but those who suffer4 ,we have not in   
this1 as in most tragedies1 the picture 
of a calamity in which the sudden blows 
of fate seem still to honour the head   
which they strike1 and where the loss is
 always accompanied by some flattering  
consolation in the memory of the former 
possession2 but a fall from the highest 

elevation into the deepest abyss of     
misery1 where humanity is stripped of   
all external and internal advantages1   
and given up a prey to naked            
helplessness4 ,the threefold dignity of 
a king1 an old man1 and a father1 is    
dishonoured by the cruel ingratitude of 
his unnatural daughters2 the old ,lear1 
who out of a foolish tenderness has     
given away every thing1 is driven out to
 the world a wandering beggar2 the      
childish imbecility to which he was fast
 advancing changes into the wildest     
insanity1 and when he is rescued from   
the disgraceful destitution to which he 
was abandoned1 it is too late3 the kind 
consolations of filial care and         
attention and of true friendship are now
 lost on him2 his bodily and mental     
powers are destroyed beyond all hope of 
recovery1 and all that now remains to   
him of life is the capability of loving 
and suffering beyond measure4 ,what a   
picture we have in the meeting of ,lear 
and ,edgar in a tempestuous night and in

 a wretched hovel6 ,the youthful ,edgar 
has1 by the wicked arts of his brother1 
and through his father's blindness1     
fallen1 as the old ,lear1 from the rank 
to which his birth entitled him2 and1 as
 the only means of escaping further     
persecution1 is reduced to assume the   
disguise of a beggar tormented by evil  
spirits4 ,the ,king's fool1             
notwithstanding the voluntary           
degradation which is implied in his     
situation1 is1 after ,kent1 ,lear's most
 faithful associate1 his wisest         
counsellor4 ,this good-hearted fool     
clothes reason with the livery of his   
motley garb2 the high-born beggar acts  
the part of insanity2 and both1 were    
they even in reality what they seem1    
would still be enviable in comparison   
with the ,king1 who feels that the      
violence of his grief threatens to      
overpower his reason4 ,the meeting of   
,edgar with the blinded ,gloster is     
equally heart-rending2 nothing can be   
more affecting than to see the ejected  

son become the father's guide1 and the  
good angel1 who under the disguise of   
insanity1 saves him by an ingenious and 
pious fraud from the horror and despair 
of self-murder4 ,but who can possibly   
enumerate all the different combinations
 and situations by which our minds are  
here as it were stormed by the poet8    
,respecting the structure of the whole  
,i will only make one observation4 ,the 
story of ,lear and his daughters was    
left by ,shakspeare exactly as he found 
it in a fabulous tradition1 with all the
 features characteristical of the       
simplicity of old times4 ,but in that   
tradition there is not the slightest    
trace of the story of ,gloster and his  
sons1 which was derived by ,shakspeare  
from another source4 ,the incorporation 
of the two stories has been censured as 
destructive of the unity of action4 ,but
 whatever contributes to the intrigue or
 the dnouement must always possess      
unity4 ,and with what ingenuity and     
skill are the two main parts of the     

composition dovetailed into one another6
 ,the pity felt by ,gloster for the fate
 of ,lear becomes the means which       
enables his son ,edmund to effect his   
complete destruction1 and affords the   
outcast ,edgar an opportunity of being  
the saviour of his father4 ,on the other
 hand1 ,edmund is active in the cause of
 ,regan and ,gonerill1 and the criminal 
passion which they both entertain for   
him induces them to execute justice on  
each other and on themselves4 ,the laws 
of the drama have therefore been        
sufficiently complied with2 but that is 
the least3 it is the very combination   
which constitutes the sublime beauty of 
the work4 ,the two cases resembles each 
other in the main3 an infatuated father 
is blind towards his well-disposed      
child1 and the unnatural children1 whom 
he prefers1 requite him by the ruin of  
all his happiness4 ,but all the         
circumstances are so different1 that    
these stories1 while they each make a   
correspondent impression on the heart1  

form a complete contrast for the        
imagination4 ,were ,lear alone to suffer
 from his daughters1 the impression     
would be limited to the powerful        
compassion felt by us for his private   
misfortune4 ,but two such unheard-of    
examples taking place at the same time  
have the appearance of a great commotion
 in the moral world3 the picture becomes
 gigantic1 and fills us with such alarm 
as we should entertain at the idea that 
the heavenly bodies might one day fall  
from their appointed orbits4 ,to save in
 some degree the honour of human nature1
 ,shakspeare never wishes his spectators
 to forget that the story takes place in
 a dreary and barbarous age3 he lays    
particular stress on the circumstance   
that the ,britons of that day were still
 heathens1 although he has not made all 
the remaining circumstances to coincide 
learnedly with the time which he has    
chosen4 ,from this point of view we must
 judge of many coarsenesses in          
expression and manners2 for instance1   

the immodest manner in which ,gloster   
acknowledges his bastard1 ,kent's       
quarrel with the ,steward1 and more     
especially the cruelty personally       
inflicted on ,gloster by the ,duke of   
,cornwall4 ,even the virtue of the      
honest ,kent bears the stamp of an iron 
age1 in which the good and the bad      
display the same uncontrollable energy4 
,great qualities have not been          
superfluously assigned to the ,king2 the
 poet could command our sympathy for his
 situation1 without concealing what he  
had done to bring himself into it4 ,lear
 is choleric1 overbearing1 and almost   
childish from age1 when he drives out   
his youngest daughter because she will  
not join in the hypocritical            
exaggerations of her sisters4 ,but he   
has a warm and affectionate heart1 which
 is susceptible of the most fervent     
gratitude2 and even rays of a high and  
kingly disposition burst forth from the 
eclipse of his understanding4 ,of       
,cordelia's heavenly beauty of soul1    

painted in so few words1 ,i will not    
venture to speak2 she can only be named 
in the same breath with ,antigone4 ,her 
death has been thought too cruel2 and in
 ,england the piece is in acting so far 
altered that she remains victorious and 
happy4 ,i must own1 ,i cannot conceive  
what ideas of art and dramatic connexion
 those persons have who suppose that we 
can at pleasure tack a double conclusion
 to a tragedy2 a melancholy one for     
hard- hearted spectators1 and a happy   
one for souls of a softer mould4 ,after 
surviving so many sufferings1 ,lear can 
only die2 and what more truly tragic end
 for him than to die from grief for the 
death of ,cordelia8 and if he is also to
 be saved and to pass the remainder of  
his days in happiness1 the whole loses  
its signification4 ,according to        
,shakspeare's plan the guilty1 it is    
true1 are all punished1 for wickedness  
destroys itself2 but the virtues that   
would bring help and succour are        
everywhere too late1 or overmatched by  

the cunning activity of malice4 ,the    
persons of this drama have only such a  
faint belief in ,providence as heathens 
may be supposed to have2 and the poet   
here wishes to show us that this belief 
requires a wider range than the dark    
pilgrimage on earth to be established in
 full extent4     ,,lecture ,,xxvi4     
,criticisms on ,shakspeare's ,historical
 ,dramas4   ,the five tragedies of which
 ,i have just spoken are deservedly the 
most celebrated of all the works of     
,shakspeare4 ,in the three last1 more   
especially1 we have a display of a      
loftiness of genius which may almost be 
said to surpass the powers of human     
nature3 the mind is as much lost in the 
contemplation of all the heights and    
depths of these works as our feelings   
are overpowered by the first impression 
which they produce4 ,of his historical  
plays1 however1 some possess a high     
degree of tragical perfection1 and all  
are distinguished by peculiar           
excellencies4  ,in the three ,roman     

pieces1 ,coriolanus1 ,julius ,caesar1   
and ,antony and ,cleopatra1 the         
moderation with which ,shakspeare       
excludes foreign appendages and         
arbitrary suppositions1 and yet fully   
satisfies the wants of the stage1 is    
particularly deserving of admiration4   
,these plays are the very thing itself2 
and under the apparent artlessness of   
adhering closely to history as he found 
it1 an uncommon degree of art is        
concealed4 ,of every historical         
transaction ,shakspeare knows how to    
seize the true poetical point of view1  
and to give unity and rounding to a     
series of events detached from the      
immeasurable extent of history without  
in any degree changing them4 ,the public
 life of ancient ,rome is called up from
 its grave1 and exhibited before our    
eyes with the utmost grandeur and       
freedom of the dramatic form1 and the   
heroes of ,plutarch are ennobled by the 
most eloquent poetry4  ,in ,coriolanus  
we have more comic intermixtures than in

 the others1 as the many-headed         
multitude plays here a considerable     
part2 and when ,shakspeare portrays the 
blind movements of the people in a mass1
 he almost always gives himself up to   
his merry humour4 ,to the plebeians1    
whose folly is certainly sufficiently   
conspicuous already1 the original old   
satirist ,menenius is added by way of   
abundance4 ,droll scenes arise of a     
description altogether peculiar1 and    
which are compatible only with such a   
political drama2 for instance1 when     
,coriolanus1 to obtain the consulate1   
must solicit the lower order of citizens
 whom he holds in contempt for their    
cowardice in war1 but cannot so far     
master his haughty disposition as to    
assume the customary humility1 and yet  
extorts from them their votes4  ,i have 
already shown ,footnote3 ,page #bdj4    
that the piece of ,julius ,caesar1 to   
complete the action1 requires to be     
continued to the fall of ,brutus and    
,cassius4 ,caesar is not the hero of the

 piece1 but ,brutus4 ,the amiable beauty
 of this character1 his feeling and     
patriotic heroism1 are portrayed with   
peculiar care4 ,yet the poet has pointed
 out with great nicety the superiority  
of ,cassius over ,brutus in independent 
volition and discernment in judging of  
human affairs2 that the latter from the 
purity of his mind and his conscientious
 love of justice1 is unfit to be the    
head of a party in a state entirely     
corrupted2 and that these very faults   
give an unfortunate turn to the cause of
 the conspirators4 ,in the part of      
,caesar several ostentatious speeches   
have been censured as unsuitable4 ,but  
as he never appears in action1 we have  
no other measure of his greatness than  
the impression which he makes upon the  
rest of the characters1 and his peculiar
 confidence in himself4 ,in this ,caesar
 was by no means deficient1 as we learn 
from history and his own writings2 but  
he displayed it more in the easy        
ridicule of his enemies than in pompous 

discourses4 ,the theatrical effect of   
this play is injured by a partial       
falling off of the last two acts        
compared with the preceding in external 
splendour and rapidity4 ,the first      
appearance of ,caesar in festal robes1  
when the music stops1 and all are silent
 whenever he opens his mouth1 and when  
the few words which he utters are       
received as oracles1 is truly           
magnificent2 the conspiracy is a true   
conspiracy1 which in stolen interviews  
and in the dead of night prepares the   
blow which is to be struck in open day1 
and which is to change the constitution 
of the world2--the confused thronging   
before the murder of ,caesar1 the       
general agitation even of the           
perpetrators after the deed1 are all    
portrayed with most masterly skill2 with
 the funeral procession and the speech  
of ,antony the effect reaches its utmost
 height4 ,caesar's shade is more        
powerful to avenge his fall than he     
himself was to guard against it4 ,after 

the overthrow of the external splendour 
and greatness of the conqueror and ruler
 of the world1 the intrinsic grandeur of
 character of ,brutus and ,cassius is   
all that remain to fill the stage and   
occupy the minds of the spectators3     
suitably to their name1 as the last of  
the ,romans1 they stand there1 in some  
degree alone2 and the forming a great   
and hazardous determination is more     
powerfully calculated to excite our     
expectation1 than the supporting the    
consequences of the deed with heroic    
firmness4  ,antony and ,cleopatra may1  
in some measure1 be considered as a     
continuation of ,julius ,caesar3 the two
 principal characters of ,antony and    
,augustus are equally sustained in both 
pieces4 ,antony and ,cleopatra1 is a    
play of great extent2 the progress is   
less simple than in ,julius ,caesar4    
,the fulness and variety of political   
and warlike events1 to which the union  
of the three divisions of the ,roman    
world under one master necessarily gave 

rise1 were perhaps too great to admit of
 being clearly exhibited in one dramatic
 picture4 ,in this consists the great   
difficulty of the historical drama3--it 
must be a crowded extract1 and a living 
development of history2--the difficulty1
 however1 has generally been            
successfully overcome by ,shakspeare4   
,but now many things1 which are         
transacted in the background1 are here  
merely alluded to1 in a manner which    
supposes an intimate acquaintance with  
the history2 but a work of art should   
contain1 within itself1 every thing     
necessary for its being fully           
understood4 ,many persons of historical 
importance are merely introduced in     
passing2 the preparatory and concurring 
circumstances are not sufficiently      
collected into masses to avoid          
distracting our attention4 ,the         
principal personages1 however1 are most 
emphatically distinguished by lineament 
and colouring1 and powerfully arrest the
 imagination4 ,in ,antony we observe a  

mixture of great qualities1 weaknesses1 
and vices2 violent ambition and         
ebullitions of magnanimity2 we see him  
now sinking into luxurious enjoyment and
 then nobly ashamed of his own          
aberrations1--manning himself to        
resolutions not unworthy of himself1    
which are always shipwrecked against the
 seductions of an artful woman4 ,it is  
,hercules in the chains of ,omphale1    
drawn from the fabulous heroic ages into
 history1 and invested with the ,roman  
costume4 ,the seductive arts of         
,cleopatra are in no respect veiled     
over2 she is an ambiguous being made up 
of royal pride1 female vanity1 luxury1  
inconstancy1 and true attachment4       
,although the mutual passion of herself 
and ,antony is without moral dignity1 it
 still excites our sympathy as an       
insurmountable fascination3-- they seem 
formed for each other1 and ,cleopatra is
 as remarkable for her seductive charms 
as ,antony for the splendour of his     
deeds4 ,as they die for each other1 we  

forgive them for having lived for each  
other4 ,the open and lavish character of
 ,antony is admirably contrasted with   
the heartless littleness of ,octavius1  
whom ,shakspeare seems to have          
completely seen through1 without        
allowing himself to be led astray by the
 fortune and the fame of ,augustus4     
,timon of ,athens1 and ,troilus and     
,cressida1 are not historical plays2 but
 we cannot properly call them either    
tragedies or comedies4 ,by the selection
 of the materials from antiquity they   
have some affinity to the ,roman pieces1
 and hence ,i have hitherto abstained   
from mentioning them4  ,timon of        
,athens1 of all the works of            
,shakspeare1 possesses most the         
character of satire3--a laughing satire 
in the picture of the parasites and     
flatterers1 and ,juvenalian in the      
bitterness of ,timon's imprecations on  
the ingratitude of a false world4 ,the  
story is very simply treated1 and is    
definitely divided into large           

masses3--in the first act the joyous    
life of ,timon1 his noble and hospitable
 extravagance1 and around him the throng
 of suitors of every description2 in the
 second and third acts his              
embarrassment1 and the trial which he is
 thereby reduced to make of his supposed
 friends1 who all desert him in the hour
 of need2--in the fourth and fifth acts1
 ,timon's flight to the woods1 his      
misanthropical melancholy1 and his      
death4 ,the only thing which may be     
called an episode is the banishment of  
,alcibiades1 and his return by force of 
arms4 ,however1 they are both examples  
of ingratitude1--the one of a state     
towards its defender1 and the other of  
private friends to their benefactor4 ,as
 the merits of the ,general towards his 
fellow-citizens suppose more strength of
 character than those of the generous   
prodigal1 their respective behaviours   
are not less different2 ,timon frets    
himself to death1 ,alcibiades regains   
his lost dignity by force4 ,if the poet 

very properly sides with ,timon against 
the common practice of the world1 he is1
 on the other hand1 by no means disposed
 to spare ,timon4 ,timon was a fool in  
his generosity2 in his discontent he is 
a madman3 he is every where wanting in  
the wisdom which enables a man in all   
things to observe the due measure4      
,although the truth of his extravagant  
feelings is proved by his death1 and    
though when he digs up a treasure he    
spurns the wealth which seems to tempt  
him1 we yet see distinctly enough that  
the vanity of wishing to be singular1 in
 both the parts that he plays1 had some 
share in his liberal self-forgetfulness1
 as well as in his anchoritical         
seclusion4 ,this is particularly evident
 in the incomparable scene where the    
cynic ,apemantus visits ,timon in the   
wilderness4 ,they have a sort of        
competition with each other in their    
trade of misanthropy3 the ,cynic        
reproaches the impoverished ,timon with 
having been merely driven by necessity  

to take to the way of living which he   
himself had long been following of his  
free choice1 and ,timon cannot bear the 
thought of being merely an imitator of  
the ,cynic4 ,in such a subject as this  
the due effect could only be produced by
 an accumulation of similar features1   
still1 in the variety of the shades1 an 
amazing degree of understanding has been
 displayed by ,shakspeare4 ,what a      
powerfully diversified concert of       
flatteries and of empty testimonies of  
devotedness6 ,it is highly amusing to   
see the suitors1 whom the ruined        
circumstances of their patron had       
dispersed1 immediately flock to him     
again when they learn that he has been  
revisited by fortune4 ,on the other     
hand1 in the speeches of ,timon1 after  
he is undeceived1 all hostile figures of
 speech are exhausted1--it is a         
dictionary of eloquent imprecations4    
,troilus and ,cressida is the only play 
of ,shakspeare which he allowed to be   
printed without being previously        

represented4 ,it seems as if he here for
 once wished1 without caring for        
theatrical effect1 to satisfy the nicety
 of his peculiar wit1 and the           
inclination to a certain guile1 if ,i   
may say so1 in the characterization4    
,the whole is one continued irony of    
that crown of all heroic tales1 the tale
 of ,troy4 ,the contemptible nature of  
the origin of the ,trojan war1 the      
laziness and discord with which it was  
carried on1 so that the siege was made  
to last ten years1 are only placed in   
clearer light by the noble descriptions1
 the sage and ingenious maxims with     
which the work overflows1 and the high  
ideas which the heroes entertain of     
themselves and each other4 ,agamemnon's 
stately behaviour1 ,menelaus'           
irritation1 ,nestor's experience1       
,ulysses' cunning1 are all productive of
 no effect2 when they have at last      
arranged a single combat between the    
coarse braggart ,ajax and ,hector1 the  
latter will not fight in good earnest1  

as ,ajax is his cousin4 ,achilles is    
treated worst3 after having long        
stretched himself out in arrogant       
idleness1 and passed his time in the    
company of ,thersites the buffoon1 he   
falls upon ,hector at a moment when he  
is defenceless1 and kills him by means  
of his myrmidons4 ,in all this let no   
man conceive that any indignity was     
intended to the venerable ,homer4       
,shakspeare had not the ,iliad before   
him1 but the chivalrous romances of the 
,trojan war derived from ,dares         
,phrygius4 ,from this source also he    
took the love-intrigue of ,troilus and  
,cressida1 a story at one time so       
popular in ,england1 that the name of   
,troilus had become proverbial for      
faithful and ill-requited love1 and     
,cressida for female falsehood4 ,the    
name of the agent between them1         
,pandarus1 has even been adopted into   
the ,english language to signify those  
personages 7panders7 who dedicate       
themselves to similar services for      

inexperienced persons of both sexes4    
,the endless contrivances of the        
courteous ,pandarus to bring the two    
lovers together1 who do not stand in    
need of him1 as ,cressida requires no   
seduction1 are comic in the extreme4    
,the manner in which this treacherous   
beauty excites while she refuses1 and   
converts the virgin modesty which she   
pretends1 into a means of seductive     
allurement1 is portrayed in colours     
extremely elegant1 though certainly     
somewhat voluptuous4 ,troilus1 the      
pattern of lovers1 looks patiently on1  
while his mistress enters into an       
intrigue with ,diomed4 ,no doubt1 he    
swears that he will be revenged2 but    
notwithstanding his violence in the     
fight next day1 he does no harm to any  
one1 and ends with only high-sounding   
threats4 ,in a word1 in this heroic     
comedy1 where1 from traditional fame1   
and the pomp of poetry1 every thing     
seems to lay claim to admiration1       
,shakspeare did not wish that any room  

should be left1 except1 perhaps1 in the 
character of ,hector1 for esteem and    
sympathy2 but in this double meaning of 
the picture1 he has afforded us the most
 choice entertainment4  ,the dramas     
derived from the ,english history1 ten  
in number1 form one of the most valuable
 of ,shakspeare's works1 and partly the 
fruit of his maturest age4 ,i say       
advisedly one of his works1 for the poet
 evidently intended them to form one    
great whole4 ,it is1 as it were1 an     
historical heroic poem in the dramatic  
form1 of which the separate plays       
constitute the rhapsodies4 ,the         
principal features of the events are    
exhibited with such fidelity2 their     
causes1 and even their secret springs1  
are placed in such a clear light1 that  
we may attain from them a knowledge of  
history in all its truth1 while the     
living picture makes an impression on   
the imagination which can never be      
effaced4 ,but this series of dramas is  
intended as the vehicle of a much higher

 and much more general instruction2 it  
furnishes examples of the political     
course of the world1 applicable to all  
times4 ,this mirror of kings should be  
the manual of young princes2 from it    
they may learn the intrinsic dignity of 
their hereditary vocation1 but they will
 also learn from it the difficulties of 
their situation1 the dangers of         
usurpation1 the inevitable fall of      
tyranny1 which buries itself under its  
attempts to obtain a firmer foundation2 
lastly1 the ruinous consequences of the 
weaknesses1 errors1 and crimes of kings1
 for whole nations1 and many subsequent 
generations4 ,eight of these plays1 from
 ,richard the ,second to ,richard the   
,third1 are linked together in an       
uninterrupted succession1 and embrace a 
most eventful period of nearly a century
 of ,english history4 ,the events       
portrayed in them not only follow one   
another1 but they are linked together in
 the closest and most exact connexion2  
and the cycle of revolts1 parties1 civil

 and foreign wars1 which began with the 
deposition of ,richard ,,ii41 first ends
 with the accession of ,henry ,,vii4 to 
the throne4 ,the careless rule of the   
first of these monarchs1 and his        
injudicious treatment of his own        
relations1 drew upon him the rebellion  
of ,bolingbroke2 his dethronement1      
however1 was1 in point of form1         
altogether unjust1 and in no case could 
,bolingbroke be considered the rightful 
heir to the crown4 ,this shrewd founder 
of the ,house of ,lancaster never as    
,henry ,,iv4 enjoyed in peace the fruits
 of his usurpation3 his turbulent       
,barons1 the same who aided him in      
ascending the throne1 allowed him not a 
moment's repose upon it4 ,on the other  
hand1 he was jealous of the brilliant   
qualities of his son1 and this distrust1
 more than any really low inclination1  
induced the ,prince1 that he might avoid
 every appearance of ambition1 to give  
himself up to dissolute society4 ,these 
two circumstances form the              

subject-matter of the two parts of      
,henry the ,fourth2 the enterprises of  
the discontented make up the serious1   
and the wild youthful frolics of the    
heir-apparent supply the comic scenes4  
,when this warlike ,prince ascended the 
throne under the name of ,henry ,v41 he 
was determined to assert his ambiguous  
title2 he considered foreign conquests  
as the best means of guarding against   
internal disturbances1 and this gave    
rise to the glorious1 but more ruinous  
than profitable1 war with ,france1 which
 ,shakspeare has celebrated in the drama
 of ,henry the ,fifth4 ,the early death 
of this king1 the long legal minority of
 ,henry ,,vi41 and his perpetual        
minority in the art of government1      
brought the greatest troubles on        
,england4 ,the dissensions of the       
,regents1 and the consequently wretched 
administration1 occasioned the loss of  
the ,french conquests and there arose a 
bold candidate for the crown1 whose     
title was indisputable1 if the          

prescription of three governments may   
not be assumed to confer legitimacy on  
usurpation4 ,such was the origin of the 
wars between the ,houses of ,york and   
,lancaster1 which desolated the kingdom 
for a number of years1 and ended with   
the victory of the ,house of ,york4 ,all
 this ,shakspeare has represented in the
 three parts of ,henry the ,sixth4      
,edward ,,iv4 shortened his life by     
excesses1 and did not long enjoy the    
throne purchased at the expense of so   
many cruel deeds4 ,his brother ,richard1
 who had a great share in the elevation 
of the ,house of ,york1 was not         
contented with the regency1 and his     
ambition paved himself a way to the     
throne through treachery and violence2  
but his gloomy tyranny made him the     
object of the people's hatred1 and at   
length drew on him the destruction which
 he merited4 ,he was conquered by a     
descendant of the royal house unstained 
by the guilt of the civil wars1 and what
 might seem defective in his title was  

made good by the merit of freeing his   
country from a monster4 ,with the       
accession of ,henry ,,vii4 to the       
throne1 a new epoch of ,english history 
begins3 the curse seemed at length to be
 expiated1 and the long series of       
usurpations1 revolts1 and civil wars1   
occasioned by the levity with which the 
,second ,richard sported away his crown1
 was now brought to a termination4      
,such is the evident connexion of these 
eight plays with each other1 but they   
were not1 however1 composed in          
chronological order4 ,according to all  
appearance1 the four last were first    
written2 this is certain1 indeed1 with  
respect to the three parts of ,henry the
 ,sixth2 and ,richard the ,third is not 
only from its subject a continuation of 
these1 but is also composed in the same 
style4 ,shakspeare then went back to    
,richard the ,second1 and with the most 
careful art connected the second series 
with the first4 ,the trilogies of the   
ancients have already given us an       

example of the possibility of forming a 
perfect dramatic whole1 which shall yet 
contain allusions to something which    
goes before1 and follows it4 ,in like   
manner the most of these plays end with 
a very definite division in the history3
 ,richard the ,second1 with the murder  
of that ,king2 the ,second ,part of     
,henry the ,fourth1 with the accession  
of his son to the throne2 ,henry the    
,fifth1 with the conclusion of peace    
with ,france2 the ,first ,part of ,henry
 the ,sixth1 also1 with a treaty of     
,peace2 the third1 with the murder of   
,henry1 and ,edward's elevation to the  
throne2 ,richard the ,third1 with his   
overthrow and death4 ,the ,first ,part  
of ,henry the ,fourth1 and the ,second  
of ,henry the ,sixth1 are rounded off in
 a less satisfactory manner4 ,the revolt
 of the nobles was only half quelled by 
the overthrow of ,percy1 and it is      
therefore continued through the         
following part of the piece4 ,the       
victory of ,york at ,st4 ,alban's could 

as little be considered a decisive      
event1 in the war of the two houses4    
,shakspeare has fallen into this        
dramatic imperfection1 if we may so call
 it1 for the sake of advantages of much 
more importance4 ,the picture of the    
civil war was too great and too rich in 
dreadful events for a single drama1 and 
yet the uninterrupted series of events  
offered no more convenient              
resting-place4 ,the government of ,henry
 ,,iv4 might certainly have been        
comprehended in one piece1 but it       
possesses too little tragical interest1 
and too little historical splendour1 to 
be attractive1 if handled in a serious  
manner throughout3 hence ,shakspeare has
 given to the comic characters belonging
 to the retinue of ,prince ,henry1 the  
freest development1 and the half of the 
space is occupied by this constant      
interlude between the political events4 
,the two other historical plays taken   
from the ,english history are           
chronologically separate from this      

series3 ,king ,john reigned nearly two  
centuries before ,richard ,,ii41 and    
between ,richard ,,iii4 and ,henry      
,,viii4 comes the long reign of ,henry  
,,vii41 which ,shakspeare justly passed 
over as unsusceptible of dramatic       
interest4 ,however1 these two plays may 
in some measure be considered as the    
,prologue and the ,epilogue to the other
 eight4 ,in ,king ,john1 all the        
political and national motives which    
play so great a part in the following   
pieces are already indicated3 wars and  
treaties with ,france2 a usurpation1 and
 the tyrannical actions which it draws  
after it2 the influence of the clergy1  
the factions of the nobles4 ,henry the  
,eighth again shows us the transition to
 another age2 the policy of modern      
,europe1 a refined court-life under a   
voluptuous monarch1 the dangerous       
situation of favourites1 who1 after     
having assisted in effecting the fall of
 others1 are themselves precipitated    
from power2 in a word1 despotism under a

 milder form1 but not less unjust and   
cruel4 ,by the prophecies on the birth  
of ,elizabeth1 ,shakspeare has in some  
degree brought his great poem on        
,english history down to his own time1  
as far at least as such recent events   
could be yet handled with security4 ,he 
composed probably the two plays of ,king
 ,john ,footnote3 ,i mean the piece with
 this title in the collection of his    
works4 ,there is an older ,king ,john1  
in two parts1 of which the former is a  
re-cast3--perhaps a juvenile work of    
,shakspeare1 though not hitherto        
acknowledged as such by the ,english    
critics4 ,see the disquisition appended 
to this ,lecture4 and ,henry the ,eighth
 at a later period1 as an addition to   
the others4  ,in ,king ,john the        
political and warlike events are dressed
 out with solemn pomp1 for the very     
reason that they possess but little of  
true grandeur4 ,the falsehood and       
selfishness of the monarch speak in the 
style of a manifesto4 ,conventional     

dignity is most indispensable where     
personal dignity is wanting4 ,the       
bastard ,faulconbridge is the witty     
interpreter of this language3 he        
ridicules the secret springs of         
politics1 without disapproving of them1 
for he owns that he is endeavouring to  
make his fortune by similar means1 and  
wishes rather to belong to the deceivers
 than the deceived1 for in his view of  
the world there is no other choice4 ,his
 litigation with his brother respecting 
the succession of his pretended father1 
by which he effects his acknowledgment  
at court as natural son of the most     
chivalrous king of ,england1 ,richard   
,coeur de ,lion1 forms a very           
entertaining and original prelude in the
 play itself4 ,when1 amidst so many     
disguises of real sentiments1 and so    
much insincerity of expression1 the poet
 shows us human nature without a veil1  
and allows us to take deep views of the 
inmost recesses of the mind1 the        
impression produced is only the more    

deep and powerful4 ,the short scene in  
which ,john urges ,hubert to put out of 
the way ,arthur1 his young rival for the
 possession of the throne1 is           
superlatively masterly3 the cautious    
criminal hardly ventures to say to      
himself what he wishes the other to do4 
,the young and amiable prince becomes a 
sacrifice of unprincipled ambition3 his 
fate excites the warmest sympathy4 ,when
 ,hubert1 about to put out his eyes with
 the hot iron1 is softened by his       
prayers1 our compassion would be almost 
overwhelming1 were it not sweetened by  
the winning innocence of ,arthur's      
childish speeches4 ,constance's maternal
 despair on her son's imprisonment is   
also of the highest beauty2 and even the
 last moments of ,john--an unjust and   
feeble prince1 whom we can neither      
respect nor admire--are yet so portrayed
 as to extinguish our displeasure with  
him1 and fill us with serious           
considerations on the arbitrary deeds   
and the inevitable fate of mortals4  ,in

 ,richard the ,second1 ,shakspeare      
exhibits a noble kingly nature1 at first
 obscured by levity and the errors of an
 unbridled youth1 and afterwards        
purified by misfortune1 and rendered by 
it more highly and splendidly           
illustrious4 ,when he has lost the love 
and reverence of his subjects1 and is on
 the point of losing also his throne1 he
 then feels with a bitter enthusiasm the
 high vocation of the kingly dignity and
 its transcendental rights1 independent 
of personal merit or changeable         
institutions4 ,when the earthly crown is
 fallen from his head1 he first appears 
a king whose innate nobility no         
humiliation can annihilate4 ,this is    
felt by a poor groom3 he is shocked that
 his master's favourite horse should    
have carried the proud ,bolingbroke to  
his coronation2 he visits the captive   
king in prison1 and shames the desertion
 of the great4 ,the political incident  
of the deposition is sketched with      
extraordinary knowledge of the          

world2--the ebb of fortune1 on the one  
hand1 and on the other1 the swelling    
tide1 which carries every thing along   
with it4 ,while ,bolingbroke acts as a  
king1 and his adherents behave towards  
him as if he really were so1 he still   
continues to give out that he has come  
with an armed band merely to demand his 
birthright and the removal of abuses4   
,the usurpation has been long completed1
 before the word is pronounced and the  
thing publicly avowed4 ,the old ,john of
 ,gaunt is a model of chivalrous honour3
 he stands there like a pillar of the   
olden time which he has outlived4 ,his  
son1 ,henry ,,iv41 was altogether unlike
 him3 his character is admirably        
sustained throughout the three pieces in
 which he appears4 ,we see in it that   
mixture of hardness1 moderation1 and    
prudence1 which1 in fact1 enabled him to
 secure the possession of the throne    
which he had violently usurped2 but     
without openness1 without true          
cordiality1 and incapable of noble      

ebullitions1 he was so little able to   
render his government beloved1 that the 
deposed ,richard was even wished back   
again4  ,the first part of ,henry the   
,fourth is particularly brilliant in the
 serious scenes1 from the contrast      
between two young heroes1 ,prince ,henry
 and ,percy 7with the characteristical  
name of ,hotspur47 ,all the amiability  
and attractiveness is certainly on the  
side of the prince3 however familiar he 
makes himself with bad company1 we can  
never mistake him for one of them3 the  
ignoble does indeed touch1 but it does  
not contaminate him2 and his wildest    
freaks appear merely as witty tricks1 by
 which his restless mind sought to burst
 through the inactivity to which he was 
constrained1 for on the first occasion  
which wakes him out of his unruly levity
 he distinguishes himself without effort
 in the most chivalrous guise4 ,percy's 
boisterous valour is not without a      
mixture of rude manners1 arrogance1 and 
boyish obstinacy2 but these errors1     

which prepare for him an early death1   
cannot disfigure the majestic image of  
his noble youth2 we are carried away by 
his fiery spirit at the very moment we  
would most censure it4 ,shakspeare has  
admirably shown why so formidable a     
revolt against an unpopular and really  
an illegitimate prince was not attended 
with success3 ,glendower's superstitious
 fancies respecting himself1 the        
effeminacy of the young ,mortimer1 the  
ungovernable disposition of ,percy1 who 
will listen to no prudent counsel1 the  
irresolution of his older friends1 the  
want of unity of plan and motive1 are   
all characterized by delicate but       
unmistakable traits4 ,after ,percy has  
departed from the scene1 the splendour  
of the enterprise is1 it is true1 at an 
end2 there remain none but the          
subordinate participators in the        
revolts1 who are reduced by ,henry      
,,iv41 more by policy than by warlike   
achievements4 ,to overcome this dearth  
of matter1 ,shakspeare was in the second

 part obliged to employ great art1 as he
 never allowed himself to adorn history 
with more arbitrary embellishments than 
the dramatic form rendered              
indispensable4 ,the piece is opened by  
confused rumours from the field of      
battle2 the powerful impression produced
 by ,percy's fall1 whose name and       
reputation were peculiarly adapted to be
 the watchword of a bold enterprise1    
make him in some degree an acting       
personage after his death4 ,the last    
acts are occupied with the dying king's 
remorse of conscience1 his uneasiness at
 the behaviour of the prince1 and       
lastly1 the clearing up of the          
misunderstanding between father and son1
 which make up several most affecting   
scenes4 ,all this1 however1 would still 
be inadequate to fill the stage1 if the 
serious events were not interrupted by a
 comedy which runs through both parts of
 the play1 which is enriched from time  
to time with new figures1 and which     
first comes to its catastrophe at the   

conclusion of the whole1 namely1 when   
,henry ,v41 immediately after ascending 
the throne1 banishes to a proper        
distance the companions of his youthful 
excesses1 who had promised to themselves
 a rich harvest from his kingly favour4 
,falstaff is the crown of ,shakspeare's 
comic invention4 ,he has1 without       
exhausting himself1 continued this      
character throughout three plays1 and   
exhibited him in every variety of       
situation2 the figure is drawn so       
definitely and individually1 that even  
to the mere reader it conveys the clear 
impression of personal acquaintance4    
,falstaff is the most agreeable and     
entertaining knave that ever was        
portrayed4 ,his contemptible qualities  
are not disguised3 old1 lecherous1 and  
dissolute2 corpulent beyond measure1 and
 always intent upon cherishing his body 
with eating1 drinking1 and sleeping2    
constantly in debt1 and anything but    
conscientious in his choice of means by 
which money is to be raised2 a cowardly 

soldier1 and a lying braggart2 a        
flatterer of his friends before their   
face1 and a satirist behind their backs2
 and yet we are never disgusted with    
him4 ,we see that his tender care of    
himself is without any mixture of malice
 towards others2 he will only not be    
disturbed in the pleasant repose of his 
sensuality1 and this he obtains through 
the activity of his understanding4      
,always on the alert1 and good-humoured1
 ever ready to crack jokes on others1   
and to enter into those of which he is  
himself the subject1 so that he justly  
boasts he is not only witty himself1 but
 the cause of wit in others1 he is an   
admirable companion for youthful        
idleness and levity4 ,under a helpless  
exterior1 he conceals an extremely acute
 mind2 he has always at command some    
dexterous turn whenever any of his free 
jokes begin to give displeasure2 he is  
shrewd in his distinctions1 between     
those whose favour he has to win and    
those over whom he may assume a familiar

 authority4 ,he is so convinced that the
 part which he plays can only pass under
 the cloak of wit1 that even when alone 
he is never altogether serious1 but     
gives the drollest colouring to his     
love- intrigues1 his intercourse with   
others1 and to his own sensual          
philosophy4 ,witness his inimitable     
soliloquies on honour1 on the influence 
of wine on bravery1 his descriptions of 
the beggarly vagabonds whom he enlisted1
 of ,justice ,shallow1 c4 ,falstaff has 
about him a whole court of amusing      
caricatures1 who by turns make their    
appearance1 without ever throwing him   
into the shade4 ,the adventure in which 
the ,prince1 under the disguise of a    
robber1 compels him to give up the spoil
 which he had just taken2 the scene     
where the two act the part of the ,king 
and the ,prince2 ,falstaff's behaviour  
in the field1 his mode of raising       
recruits1 his patronage of ,justice     
,shallow1 which afterwards takes such an
 unfortunate turn3--all this forms a    

series of characteristic scenes of the  
most original description1 full of      
pleasantry1 and replete with nice and   
ingenious observation1 such as could    
only find a place in a historical play  
like the present4  ,several of the comic
 parts of ,henry the ,fourth1 are       
continued in ,the ,merry ,wives of      
,windsor4 ,this piece is said to have   
been composed by ,shakspeare1 in        
compliance with the request of ,queen   
,elizabeth1 ,footnote3 ,we know with    
certainty1 that it was acted before the 
,queen4 ,many local descriptions of     
,windsor and its neighbourhood1 and an  
allusion in which the ,order of the     
,garter is very poetically celebrated1  
make it credible that the play was      
destined to be first represented on the 
occasion of some festival of the ,order 
at the palace of ,windsor1 where the    
,knights of the ,garter have their hall 
of meeting4 who admired the character of
 ,falstaff1 and wished to see him       
exhibited once more1 and in love4 ,in   

love1 properly speaking1 ,falstaff could
 not be2 but for other purposes he could
 pretend to be so1 and at all events    
imagine that he was the object of love4 
,in the present piece accordingly he    
pays his court1 as a favoured ,knight1  
to two married ladies1 who lay their    
heads together and agree to listen      
apparently to his addresses1 for the    
sake of making him the butt of their    
just ridicule4 ,the whole plan of the   
intrigue is therefore derived from the  
ordinary circle of ,comedy1 but yet     
richly and artificially interwoven with 
another love affair4 ,the circumstance  
which has been so much admired in       
,molire's ,school of ,women1 that a     
jealous individual should be made the   
constant confidant of his rival's       
progress1 had previously been introduced
 into this play1 and certainly with much
 more probability4 ,i would not1        
however1 be understood as maintaining   
that it was the original invention of   
,shakspeare3 it is one of those         

circumstances which must almost be      
considered as part of the common stock  
of ,comedy1 and everything depends on   
the delicacy and humour with which it is
 used4 ,that ,falstaff should fall so   
repeatedly into the snare gives us a    
less favourable opinion of his          
shrewdness than the foregoing pieces had
 led us to form2 still it will not be   
thought improbable1 if once we admit the
 probability of the first infatuation on
 which the whole piece is founded1      
namely1 that he can believe himself     
qualified to inspire a passion4 ,this   
leads him1 notwithstanding his age1 his 
corpulency1 and his dislike of personal 
inconveniences and dangers1 to venture  
on an enterprise which requires the     
boldness and activity of youth2 and the 
situations occasioned by this           
infatuation are droll beyond all        
description4 ,of all ,shakspeare's      
pieces1 this approaches the nearest to  
the species of pure ,comedy3 it is      
exclusively confined to the ,english    

manners of the day1 and to the domestic 
relations2 the characters are almost all
 comic1 and the dialogue1 with the      
exception of a couple of short love     
scenes1 is written in prose4 ,but we see
 that it was a point of principle with  
,shakspeare to make none of his         
compositions a mere imitation of the    
prosaic world1 and to strip them of all 
poetical decoration3 accordingly he has 
elevated the conclusion of the comedy by
 a wonderful intermixture1 which suited 
the place where it was probably first   
represented4 ,a popular superstition is 
made the means of a fanciful            
mystification ,footnote3 ,this word is  
,french2 but it has lately been adopted 
by some ,english writers4--,,trans4 of  
,falstaff2 disguised as the ,ghost of a 
,hunter who1 with ragged horns1 wanders 
about in the woods of ,windsor1 he is to
 wait for his frolicsome mistress2 in   
this plight he is surprised by a chorus 
of boys and girls disguised like        
fairies1 who1 agreeably to the popular  

belief1 are holding their midnight      
dances1 and who sing a merry song as    
they pinch and torture him4 ,this is the
 last affront put upon poor ,falstaff2  
and with this contrivance the conclusion
 of the second love affair is made in a 
most ingenious manner to depend4  ,king 
,henry the ,fifth is manifestly         
,shakspeare's favourite hero in ,english
 history3 he paints him as endowed with 
every chivalrous and kingly virtue2     
open1 sincere1 affable1 yet1 as a sort  
of reminiscence of his youth1 still     
disposed to innocent raillery1 in the   
intervals between his perilous but      
glorious achievements4 ,however1 to     
represent on the stage his whole history
 subsequent to his accession to the     
throne1 was attended with great         
difficulty4 ,the conquests in ,france   
were the only distinguished event of his
 reign2 and war is an epic rather than a
 dramatic object4 ,for wherever men act 
in masses against each other1 the       
appearance of chance can never wholly be

 avoided2 whereas it is the business of 
the drama to exhibit to us those        
determinations which1 with a certain    
necessity1 issue from the reciprocal    
relations of different individuals1     
their characters and passions4 ,in      
several of the ,greek tragedies1 it is  
true1 combats and battles are exhibited1
 that is1 the preparations for them and 
their results2 and in historical plays  
war1 as the ultima ratio regum1 cannot  
altogether be excluded4 ,still1 if we   
would have dramatic interest1 war must  
only be the means by which something    
else is accomplished1 and not the last  
aim and substance of the whole4 ,for    
instance1 in ,macbeth1 the battles which
 are announced at the very beginning    
merely serve to heighten the glory of   
,macbeth and to fire his ambition2 and  
the combats which take place towards the
 conclusion1 before the eyes of the     
spectator1 bring on the destruction of  
the tyrant4 ,it is the very same in the 
,roman pieces1 in the most of those     

taken from ,english history1 and1 in    
short1 wherever ,shakspeare has         
introduced war in a dramatic            
combination4 ,with great insight into   
the essence of his art1 he never paints 
the fortune of war as a blind deity who 
sometimes favours one and sometimes     
another2 without going into the details 
of the art of war1 7though sometimes he 
even ventures on this71 he allows us to 
anticipate the result from the qualities
 of the general1 and their influence on 
the minds of the soldiers2 sometimes1   
without claiming our belief for         
miracles1 he yet exhibits the issue in  
the light of a higher volition3 the     
consciousness of a just cause and       
reliance on the protection of ,heaven   
give courage to the one party1 while the
 presage of a curse hanging over their  
undertaking weighs down the other4      
,footnote3 ,aeschylus1 with equal       
wisdom1 in the uniformly warlike tragedy
 of the ,seven before ,thebes1 has given
 to the ,theban chiefs foresight1       

determination1 and presence of mind2 to 
their adversaries1 arrogant audacity4   
,hence all the combats1 excepting that  
between ,eteocles and ,polynices1 turn  
out in favour of the former4 ,the       
paternal curse1 and the blindness to    
which it gives rise1 carry headlong the 
two brothers to the unnatural strife in 
which they both fall by the hands of    
each other4--,see page #ia4 ,in ,henry  
the ,fifth1 no opportunity was afforded 
,shakspeare of adopting the             
last-mentioned course1 namely1 rendering
 the issue of the war dramatic2 but he  
has skilfully availed himself of the    
first4--,before the battle of ,agincourt
 he paints in the most lively colours   
the light-minded impatience of the      
,french leaders for the moment of       
battle1 which to them seemed infallibly 
the moment of victory2 on the other     
hand1 he paints the uneasiness of the   
,english ,king and his army in their    
desperate situation1 coupled with their 
firm determination1 if they must fall1  

at least to fall with honour4 ,he       
applies this as a general contrast      
between the ,french and ,english        
national characters2 a contrast which   
betrays a partiality for his own nation1
 certainly excusable in a poet1         
especially when he is backed with such a
 glorious document as that of the       
memorable battle in question4 ,he has   
surrounded the general events of the war
 with a fulness of individual1          
characteristic1 and even sometimes comic
 features4 ,a heavy ,scotchman1 a hot   
,irishman1 a well-meaning1 honourable1  
but pedantic ,welchman1 all speaking in 
their peculiar dialects1 are intended to
 show us that the warlike genius of     
,henry did not merely carry the ,english
 with him1 but also the other natives of
 the two islands1 who were either not   
yet fully united or in no degree subject
 to him4 ,several good-for-nothing      
associates of ,falstaff among the dregs 
of the army either afford an opportunity
 for proving ,henry's strictness of     

discipline1 or are sent home in         
disgrace4 ,but all this variety still   
seemed to the poet insufficient to      
animate a play of which the subject was 
a conquest1 and nothing but a conquest4 
,he has1 therefore1 tacked a prologue   
7in the technical language of that day a
 chorus7 to the beginning of each act4  
,these prologues1 which unite epic pomp 
and solemnity with lyrical sublimity1   
and among which the description of the  
two camps before the battle of          
,agincourt forms a most admirable       
night-piece1 are intended to keep the   
spectators constantly in mind1 that the 
peculiar grandeur of the actions        
described cannot be developed on a      
narrow stage1 and that they must1       
therefore1 supply1 from their own       
imaginations1 the deficiencies of the   
representation4 ,as the matter was not  
properly dramatic1 ,shakspeare chose to 
wander in the form also beyond the      
bounds of the species1 and to sing1 as a
 poetical herald1 what he could not     

represent to the eye1 rather than to    
cripple the progress of the action by   
putting long descriptions in the mouths 
of the dramatic personages4 ,the        
confession of the poet that four or five
 most vile and ragged foils1 right ill  
disposed1 can only disgrace the name of 
,agincourt1 7a scruple which he has     
overlooked in the occasion of many other
 great battles1 and among others of that
 of ,philippi17 brings us here naturally
 to the question how far1 generally     
speaking1 it may be suitable and        
advisable to represent wars and battles 
on the stage4 ,the ,greeks have         
uniformly renounced them3 as in the     
whole of their theatrical system they   
proceeded on ideas of grandeur and      
dignity1 a feeble and petty imitation of
 the unattainable would have appeared   
insupportable in their eyes4 ,with them1
 consequently1 all fighting was merely  
recounted4 ,the principle of the        
romantic dramatists was altogether      
different3 their wonderful pictures were

 infinitely larger than their theatrical
 means of visible execution2 they were  
every where obliged to count on the     
willing imagination of the spectators1  
and consequently they also relied on    
them in this point4 ,it is certainly    
laughable enough that a handful of      
awkward warriors in mock armour1 by     
means of two or three swords1 with which
 we clearly see they take especial care 
not to do the slightest injury to one   
another1 should decide the fate of      
mighty kingdoms4 ,but the opposite      
extreme is still much worse4 ,if we in  
reality succeed in exhibiting the tumult
 of a great battle1 the storming of a   
fort1 and the like1 in a manner any way 
calculated to deceive the eye1 the power
 of these sensible impressions is so    
great that they render the spectator    
incapable of bestowing that attention   
which a poetical work of art demands2   
and thus the essential is sacrificed to 
the accessory4 ,we have learned from    
experience1 that whenever cavalry       

combats are introduced the men soon     
become secondary personages beside the  
four-footed players ,footnote3 ,the     
,greeks1 it is true1 brought horses on  
the tragic stage1 but only in solemn    
processions1 not in the wild disorder of
 a fight4 ,agamemnon and ,pallas1 in    
,aeschylus1 make their appearance drawn 
in a chariot with four horses4 ,but     
their theatres were built on a scale    
very different from ours44 ,fortunately1
 in ,shakspeare's time1 the art of      
converting the yielding boards of the   
theatre into a riding course had not yet
 been invented4 ,he tells the spectators
 in the first prologue in ,henry the    
,fifth3--    ,think1 when we talk of    
horses1 that you see them   ,printing   
their proud hoofs in the receiving      
earth4  ,when ,richard the ,third utters
 the famous exclamation1--    ,a horse6 
a horse6 my kingdom for a horse6  it is 
no doubt inconsistent to see him both   
before and afterwards constantly        
fighting on foot4 ,it is however better1

 perhaps1 that the poet and player      
should by overpowering impressions      
dispose us to forget this1 than by      
literal exactness to expose themselves  
to external interruptions4 ,with all the
 disadvantages which ,i have mentioned1 
,shakspeare and several ,spanish poets  
have contrived to derive such great     
beauties from the immediate             
representation of war1 that ,i cannot   
bring myself to wish they had abstained 
from it4 ,a theatrical manager of the   
present day will have a middle course to
 follow3 his art must1 in an especial   
manner1 be directed to make what he     
shows us appear only as separate groups 
of an immense picture1 which cannot be  
taken in at once by the eye2 he must    
convince the spectators that the main   
action takes place behind the stage2 and
 for this purpose he has easy means at  
his command in the nearer or more remote
 sound of warlike music and the din of  
arms4  ,however much ,shakspeare        
celebrates the ,french conquest of      

,henry1 still he has not omitted to     
hint1 after his way1 the secret springs 
of this undertaking4 ,henry was in want 
of foreign war to secure himself on the 
throne2 the clergy also wished to keep  
him employed abroad1 and made an offer  
of rich contributions to prevent the    
passing of a law which would have       
deprived them of the half of their      
revenues4 ,his learned bishops          
consequently are as ready to prove to   
him his indisputable right to the crown 
of ,france1 as he is to allow his       
conscience to be tranquillized by them4 
,they prove that the ,salic law is not1 
and never was1 applicable to ,france2   
and the matter is treated in a more     
succinct and convincing manner than such
 subjects usually are in manifestoes4   
,after his renowned battles1 ,henry     
wished to secure his conquests by       
marriage with a ,french princess2 all   
that has reference to this is intended  
for irony in the play4 ,the fruit of    
this union1 from which two nations      

promised to themselves such happiness in
 future1 was the weak and feeble ,henry 
,,vi41 under whom every thing was so    
miserably lost4 ,it must not1 therefore1
 be imagined that it was without the    
knowledge and will of the poet that a   
heroic drama turns out a comedy in his  
hands1 and ends in the manner of ,comedy
 with a marriage of convenience4  ,the  
three parts of ,henry the ,sixth1 as ,i 
have already remarked1 were composed    
much earlier than the preceding pieces4 
,shakspeare's choice fell first on this 
period of ,english history1 so full of  
misery and horrors of every kind1       
because the pathetic is naturally more  
suitable than the characteristic to a   
young poet's mind4 ,we do not yet find  
here the whole maturity of his genius1  
yet certainly its whole strength4       
,careless as to the apparent            
unconnectedness of contemporary events1 
he bestows little attention on          
preparation and development3 all the    
figures follow in rapid succession1 and 

announce themselves emphatically for    
what we ought to take them2 from scenes 
where the effect is sufficiently        
agitating to form the catastrophe of a  
less extensive plan1 the poet           
perpetually hurries us on to            
catastrophes still more dreadful4 ,the  
,first ,part contains only the first    
forming of the parties of the ,white and
 ,red ,rose1 under which blooming       
ensigns such bloody deeds were          
afterwards perpetrated2 the varying     
results of the war in ,france           
principally fill the stage4 ,the        
wonderful saviour of her country1 ,joan 
of ,arc1 is portrayed by ,shakspeare    
with an ,englishman's prejudices3 yet he
 at first leaves it doubtful whether she
 has not in reality a heavenly mission2 
she appears in the pure glory of virgin 
heroism2 by her supernatural eloquence  
7and this circumstance is of the poet's 
invention7 she wins over the ,duke of   
,burgundy to the ,french cause2         
afterwards1 corrupted by vanity and     

luxury1 she has recourse to hellish     
fiends1 and comes to a miserable end4   
,to her is opposed ,talbot1 a rough iron
 warrior1 who moves us the more         
powerfully1 as1 in the moment when he is
 threatened with inevitable death1 all  
his care is tenderly directed to save   
his son1 who performs his first deeds of
 arms under his eye4 ,after ,talbot has 
in vain sacrificed himself1 and the     
,maid of ,orleans has fallen into the   
hands of the ,english1 the ,french      
provinces are completely lost by an     
impolitic marriage2 and with this the   
piece ends4 ,the conversation between   
the aged ,mortimer in prison1 and       
,richard ,plantagenet1 afterwards ,duke 
of ,york1 contains an exposition of the 
claims of the latter to the throne3     
considered by itself it is a beautiful  
tragic elegy4  ,in the ,second ,part1   
the events more particularly prominent  
are the murder of the honest ,protector1
 ,gloster1 and its consequences2 the    
death of ,cardinal ,beaufort2 the       

parting of the ,queen from her favourite
 ,suffolk1 and his death by the hand of 
savage pirates2 then the insurrection of
 ,jack ,cade under an assumed name1 and 
at the instigation of the ,duke of      
,york4 ,the short scene where ,cardinal 
,beaufort1 who is tormented by his      
conscience on account of the murder of  
,gloster1 is visited on his death- bed  
by ,henry ,,vi4 is sublime beyond all   
praise4 ,can any other poet be named who
 has drawn aside the curtain of eternity
 at the close of this life with such    
overpowering and awful effect8 ,and yet 
it is not mere horror with which the    
mind is filled1 but solemn emotion2 a   
blessing and a curse stand side by side2
 the pious ,king is an image of the     
heavenly mercy which1 even in the       
sinner's last moments1 labours to enter 
into his soul4 ,the adulterous passion  
of ,queen ,margaret and ,suffolk is     
invested with tragical dignity and all  
low and ignoble ideas carefully kept out
 of sight4 ,without attempting to gloss 

over the crime of which both are guilty1
 without seeking to remove our          
disapprobation of this criminal love1 he
 still1 by the magic force of           
expression1 contrives to excite in us a 
sympathy with their sorrow4 ,in the     
insurrection of ,cade he has delineated 
the conduct of a popular demagogue1 the 
fearful ludicrousness of the anarchical 
tumult of the people1 with such         
convincing truth1 that one would believe
 he was an eye-witness of many of the   
events of our age1 which1 from ignorance
 of history1 have been considered as    
without example4  ,the civil war only   
begins in the ,second ,part2 in the     
,third it is unfolded in its full       
destructive fury4 ,the picture becomes  
gloomier and gloomier2 and seems at last
 to be painted rather with blood than   
with colours4 ,with horror we behold    
fury giving birth to fury1 vengeance to 
vengeance1 and see that when all the    
bonds of human society are violently    
torn asunder1 even noble matrons became 

hardened to cruelty4 ,the most bitter   
contempt is the portion of the          
unfortunate2 no one affords to his enemy
 that pity which he will himself shortly
 stand in need of4 ,with all party is   
family1 country1 and religion1 the only 
spring of action4 ,as ,york1 whose      
ambition is coupled with noble          
qualities1 prematurely perishes1 the    
object of the whole contest is now      
either to support an imbecile king1 or  
to place on the throne a luxurious      
monarch1 who shortens the dear-bought   
possession by the gratification of an   
insatiable voluptuousness4 ,for this the
 celebrated and magnanimous ,warwick    
spends his chivalrous life2 ,clifford   
revenges the death of his father with   
blood-thirsty filial love2 and ,richard1
 for the elevation of his brother1      
practises those dark deeds by which he  
is soon after to pave the way to his own
 greatness4 ,in the midst of the general
 misery1 of which he has been the       
innocent cause1 ,king ,henry appears    

like the powerless image of a saint1 in 
whose wonder-working influence no man   
any longer believes3 he can but sigh and
 weep over the enormities which he      
witnesses4 ,in his simplicity1 however1 
the gift of prophecy is lent to this    
pious king3 in the moment of his death1 
at the close of this great tragedy1 he  
prophesies a still more dreadful tragedy
 with which futurity is pregnant1 as    
much distinguished for the poisonous    
wiles of cold-blooded wickedness as the 
former for deeds of savage fury4  ,the  
part of ,richard ,,iii4 has become      
highly celebrated in ,england from its  
having been filled by excellent         
performers1 and this has naturally had  
an influence on the admiration of the   
piece itself1 for many readers of       
,shakspeare stand in want of good       
interpreters of the poet to understand  
him properly4 ,this admiration is       
certainly in every respect well founded1
 though ,i cannot help thinking there is
 an injustice in considering the three  

parts of ,henry the ,sixth as of little 
value compared with ,richard the ,third4
 ,these four plays were undoubtedly     
composed in succession1 as is proved by 
the style and the spirit in the handling
 of the subject3 the last is definitely 
announced in the one which precedes it1 
and is also full of references to it3   
the same views run through the series2  
in a word1 the whole make together only 
one single work4 ,even the deep         
characterization of ,richard is by no   
means the exclusive property of the     
piece which bears his name3 his         
character is very distinctly drawn in   
the two last parts of ,henry the ,sixth2
 nay1 even his first speeches lead us   
already to form the most unfavourable   
anticipations of his future conduct4 ,he
 lowers obliquely like a dark           
thundercloud on the horizon1 which      
gradually approaches nearer and nearer1 
and first pours out the devastating     
elements with which it is charged when  
it hangs over the heads of mortals4 ,two

 of ,richard's most significant         
soliloquies which enable us to draw the 
most important conclusions with regard  
to his mental temperament1 are to be    
found in ,the ,last ,part of ,henry the 
,sixth4 ,as to the value and the justice
 of the actions to which passion impels 
us1 we may be blind1 but wickedness     
cannot mistake its own nature2 ,richard1
 as well as ,iago1 is a villain with    
full consciousness4 ,that they should   
say this in so many words1 is not       
perhaps in human nature3 but the poet   
has the right in soliloquies to lend a  
voice to the most hidden thoughts1      
otherwise the form of the monologue     
would1 generally speaking1 be           
censurable4 ,footnote3 ,what1 however1  
happens in so many tragedies1 where a   
person is made to avow himself a villain
 to his confidants1 is most decidedly   
unnatural4 ,he will1 indeed1 announce   
his way of thinking1 not1 however1 under
 damning names1 but as something that is
 understood of itself1 and is equally   

approved of by others4 ,richard's       
deformity is the expression of his      
internal malice1 and perhaps in part the
 effect of it3 for where is the ugliness
 that would not be softened by          
benevolence and openness8 ,he1 however1 
considers it as an iniquitous neglect of
 nature1 which justifies him in taking  
his revenge on that human society from  
which it is the means of excluding him4 
,hence these sublime lines3    ,and this
 word love1 which graybeards call       
divine4   ,be resident in men like one  
another1   ,and not in me4 ,i am myself 
alone4  ,wickedness is nothing but      
selfishness designedly unconscientious2 
however it can never do altogether      
without the form at least of morality1  
as this is the law of all thinking      
beings1--it must seek to found its      
depraved way of acting on something like
 principles4 ,although ,richard is      
thoroughly acquainted with the blackness
 of his mind and his hellish mission1 he
 yet endeavours to justify this to      

himself by a sophism3 the happiness of  
being beloved is denied to him2 what    
then remains to him but the happiness of
 ruling8 ,all that stands in the way of 
this must be removed4 ,this envy of the 
enjoyment of love is so much the more   
natural in ,richard1 as his brother     
,edward1 who besides preceded him in the
 possession of the crown1 was           
distinguished by the nobleness and      
beauty of his figure1 and was an almost 
irresistible conqueror of female hearts4
 ,notwithstanding his pretended         
renunciation1 ,richard places his chief 
vanity in being able to please and win  
over the women1 if not by his figure at 
least by his insinuating discourse4     
,shakspeare here shows us1 with his     
accustomed acuteness of observation1    
that human nature1 even when it is      
altogether decided in goodness or       
wickedness1 is still subject to petty   
infirmities4 ,richard's favourite       
amusement is to ridicule others1 and he 
possesses an eminent satirical wit4 ,he 

entertains at bottom a contempt for all 
mankind3 for he is confident of his     
ability to deceive them1 whether as his 
instruments or his adversaries4 ,in     
hypocrisy he is particularly fond of    
using religious forms1 as if actuated by
 a desire of profaning in the service of
 hell the religion whose blessings he   
had inwardly abjured4  ,so much for the 
main features of ,richard's character4  
,the play named after him embraces also 
the latter part of the reign of ,edward 
,,iv41 in the whole a period of eight   
years4 ,it exhibits all the machinations
 by which ,richard obtained the throne1 
and the deeds which he perpetrated to   
secure himself in its possession1 which 
lasted however but two years4           
,shakspeare intended that terror rather 
than compassion should prevail          
throughout this tragedy3 he has rather  
avoided than sought the pathetic scenes 
which he had at command4 ,of all the    
sacrifices to ,richard's lust of power1 
,clarence alone is put to death on the  

stage3 his dream excites a deep horror1 
and proves the omnipotence of the poet's
 fancy3 his conversation with the       
murderers is powerfully agitating2 but  
the earlier crimes of ,clarence merited 
death1 although not from his brother's  
hand4 ,the most innocent and unspotted  
sacrifices are the two princes3 we see  
but little of them1 and their murder is 
merely related4 ,anne disappears without
 our learning any thing farther         
respecting her3 in marrying the murderer
 of her husband1 she had shown a        
weakness almost incredible4 ,the parts  
of ,lord ,rivers1 and other friends of  
the queen1 are of too secondary a nature
 to excite a powerful sympathy2         
,hastings1 from his triumph at the fall 
of his friend1 forfeits all title to    
compassion2 ,buckingham is the satellite
 of the tyrant1 who is afterwards       
consigned by him to the axe of the      
executioner4 ,in the background the     
widowed ,queen ,margaret appears as the 
fury of the past1 who invokes a curse on

 the future3 every calamity1 which her  
enemies draw down on each other1 is a   
cordial to her revengeful heart4 ,other 
female voices join1 from time to time1  
in the lamentations and imprecations4   
,but ,richard is the soul or rather the 
daemon1 of the whole tragedy4 ,he       
fulfils the promise which he formerly   
made of leading the murderous           
,macchiavel to school4 ,notwithstanding 
the uniform aversion with which he      
inspires us1 he still engages us in the 
greatest variety of ways by his profound
 skill in dissimulation1 his wit1 his   
prudence1 his presence of mind1 his     
quick activity1 and his valour4 ,he     
fights at last against ,richmond like a 
desperado1 and dies the honourable death
 of a hero on the field of battle4      
,shakspeare could not change this       
historical issue1 and yet it is by no   
means satisfactory to our moral         
feelings1 as ,lessing1 when speaking of 
a ,german play on the same subject1 has 
very judiciously remarked4 ,how has     

,shakspeare solved this difficulty8 ,by 
a wonderful invention he opens a        
prospect into the other world1 and shows
 us ,richard in his last moments already
 branded with the stamp of reprobation4 
,we see ,richard and ,richmond in the   
night before the battle sleeping in     
their tents2 the spirits of the murdered
 victims of the tyrant ascend in        
succession1 and pour out their curses   
against him1 and their blessings on his 
adversary4 ,these apparitions are       
properly but the dreams of the two      
generals represented visibly4 ,it is no 
doubt contrary to probability that their
 tents should only be separated by so   
small a space2 but ,shakspeare could    
reckon on poetical spectators who were  
ready to take the breadth of the stage  
for the distance between two hostile    
camps1 if for such indulgence they were 
to be recompensed by beauties of so     
sublime a nature as this series of      
spectres and ,richard's awakening       
soliloquy4 ,the catastrophe of ,richard 

the ,third is1 in respect of the        
external events1 very like that of      
,macbeth3 we have only to compare the   
thorough difference of handling them to 
be convinced that ,shakspeare has most  
accurately observed poetical justice in 
the genuine sense of the word1 that is1 
as signifying the revelation of an      
invisible blessing or curse which hangs 
over human sentiments and actions4      
,although the last four pieces of the   
historical series paint later events1   
yet the plays of ,henry the ,fourth and 
,fifth have1 in tone and costume1 a much
 more modern appearance4 ,this is partly
 owing to the number of comic scenes2   
for the comic must always be founded not
 only in national1 but also in          
contemporary manners4 ,shakspeare1      
however1 seems also to have had the same
 design in the serious part4 ,bloody    
revolutions and devastations of civil   
war appear to posterity as a relapse    
into an earlier and more uncultivated   
condition of society1 or they are in    

reality accompanied by such a relapse   
into unbridled savageness4 ,if therefore
 the propensity of a young poetical mind
 to remove its object to a wonderful    
distance has had an influence on the    
style in which ,henry the ,sixth and    
,richard the ,third are conceived1      
,shakspeare has been rightly guided by  
his instinct4 ,as it is peculiar to the 
heroic poem to paint the races of men in
 times past as colossal in strength of  
body and resolution1 so in these plays1 
the voices of a ,talbot1 a ,warwick1 a  
,clifford1 and others1 so ring on our   
ear that we imagine we hear the clanging
 trumpets of foreign or of civil war4   
,the contest of the ,houses of ,york and
 ,lancaster was the last outbreak of    
feudal independence2 it was the cause of
 the great and not of the people1 who   
were only dragged into the struggle by  
the former4 ,afterwards the part was    
swallowed up in the whole1 and no longer
 could any one be1 like ,warwick1 a     
maker of kings4 ,shakspeare was as      

profound a historian as a poet2 when we 
compare his ,henry the ,eighth with the 
preceding pieces1 we see distinctly that
 the ,english nation during the long1   
peaceable1 and economical reign of      
,henry ,,vii41 whether from the         
exhaustion which was the fruit of the   
civil wars1 or from more general        
,european influences1 had made a sudden 
transition from the powerful confusion  
of the middle age1 to the regular       
tameness of modern times4 ,henry the    
,eighth has1 therefore1 somewhat of a   
prosaic appearance2 for ,shakspeare1    
artist-like1 adapted himself always to  
the quality of his materials4 ,if others
 of his works1 both in elevation of     
fancy and in energy of pathos and       
character1 tower far above this1 we have
 here on the other hand occasion to     
admire his nice powers of discrimination
 and his perfect knowledge of courts and
 the world4 ,what tact was requisite to 
represent before the eyes of the queen  
,footnote3 ,it is quite clear that      

,henry the ,eighth was written while    
,elizabeth was still alive4 ,we know    
that ,ben ,jonson1 in the reign of ,king
 ,james1 brought the piece again on the 
stage with additional pomp1 and took the
 liberty of making several changes and  
additions4 ,without doubt1 the prophecy 
respecting ,james the ,first is due to  
,ben ,jonson3 it would only have        
displeased ,elizabeth1 and is so ill    
introduced that we at once recognize in 
it a foreign interpolation4 subjects of 
such a delicate nature1 and in which she
 was personally so nearly concerned1    
without doing violence to the truth6 ,he
 has unmasked the tyrannical king1 and  
to the intelligent observer exhibited   
him such as he was actually3 haughty and
 obstinate1 voluptuous and unfeeling1   
extravagant in conferring favours1 and  
revengeful under the pretext of justice2
 and yet the picture is so dexterously  
handled that a daughter might take it   
for favourable4 ,the legitimacy of      
,elizabeth's birth depended on the      

invalidity of ,henry's first marriage1  
and ,shakspeare has placed the          
proceedings respecting his separation   
from ,catharine of ,arragon in a very   
doubtful light4 ,we see clearly that    
,henry's scruples of conscience are no  
other than the beauty of ,anne ,boleyn4 
,catharine is1 properly speaking1 the   
heroine of the piece2 she excites the   
warmest sympathy by her virtues1 her    
defenceless misery1 her mild but firm   
opposition1 and her dignified           
resignation4 ,after her1 the fall of    
,cardinal ,wolsey constitutes the       
principal part of the business4 ,henry's
 whole reign was not adapted for        
dramatic poetry4 ,it would have merely  
been a repetition of the same scenes3   
the repudiation1 or the execution of his
 wives1 and the disgrace of his most    
estimable ministers1 which was usually  
soon followed by death4 ,of all that    
distinguished ,henry's life ,shakspeare 
has given us sufficient specimens4 ,but 
as1 properly speaking1 there is no      

division in the history where he breaks 
off1 we must excuse him if he gives us a
 flattering compliment of the great     
,elizabeth for a fortunate catastrophe4 
,the piece ends with the general joy at 
the birth of that princess1 and with    
prophecies of the happiness which she   
was afterwards to enjoy or to diffuse4  
,it was only by such a turn that the    
hazardous freedom of thought in the rest
 of the composition could have passed   
with impunity3 ,shakspeare was not      
certainly himself deceived respecting   
this theatrical delusion4 ,the true     
conclusion is the death of ,catharine1  
which under a feeling of this kind1 he  
has placed earlier than was conformable 
to history4  ,i have now gone through   
all the unquestionably genuine works of 
,shakspeare4 ,i have carefully abstained
 from all indefinite eulogies1 which    
merely serve to prove a disproportion   
betwixt the feeling and the capability  
of expressing it4 ,to many the above    
observations will appear too diffuse for

 the object and plan of these ,lectures2
 to others they will perhaps seem       
unsatisfactory4 ,i shall be satisfied if
 they place those readers who are not   
yet familiar with the poet in the right 
point of view1 and pave the way for a   
solid knowledge1 and if they recall to  
the minds of intelligent critics some of
 those thoughts which have occurred to  
themselves4   ,,appendix  ,respecting   
the ,pieces said to be falsely          
attributed to ,shakspeare4  ,the        
commentators of ,shakspeare1 in their   
attempts to deprive him of parts of his 
works1 or even of whole pieces1 have for
 the most part displayed very little of 
a true critical spirit4 ,pope1 as is    
well known1 was strongly disposed to    
reject whole scenes as interpolations by
 the players2 but his opinion was not   
much listened to4 ,however1 ,steevens   
acceded to the opinion of ,pope1 as to  
the apparition of the ghosts and of     
,jupiter1 in ,cymbeline1 while          
,posthumus is sleeping in the dungeon4  

,but ,posthumus finds on waking a tablet
 on his breast1 with a prophecy on which
 the dnouement of the piece depends4 ,is
 it to be imagined that ,shakspeare     
would require of his spectators the     
belief in a wonder without a visible    
cause8 ,can ,posthumus have got this    
tablet with the prophecy by dreaming8   
,but these gentlemen do not descend to  
this objection4 ,the verses which the   
apparitions deliver do not appear to    
them good enough to be ,shakspeare's4 ,i
 imagine ,i can discover why the poet   
has not given them more of the splendour
 of diction4 ,it is the aged parents and
 brothers of ,posthumus1 who1 from      
concern for his fate1 return from the   
world below3 ought they not consequently
 to speak the language of a more simple 
olden time1 and their voices1 too1 ought
 they not also to seem a feeble sound of
 wailing1 when contrasted with the      
thundering oracular language of         
,jupiter8 ,for this reason ,shakspeare  
chose a syllabic measure which was very 

common before his time1 but which was   
then going out of fashion1 though it    
still continued to be frequently used1  
especially in translations of the       
classical poets4 ,in some such manner   
might the shades express themselves in  
the then existing translations of ,homer
 and ,virgil4 ,the speech of ,jupiter   
is1 on the other hand1 majestic1 and in 
form and style bears a complete         
resemblance to ,shakspeare's sonnets4   
,nothing but incapacity to appreciate   
the views of the poet1 and the          
perspective observed by him1 could lead 
them to stumble at this passage4  ,pope 
would willingly have declared the       
,winter's ,tale spurious1 one of the    
noblest creations of the equally bold   
and lovely fancy of ,shakspeare4 ,why8  
,i suppose on account of the ship coming
 to ,bohemia1 and of the chasm of       
sixteen years between the third and     
fourth acts1 which ,time as a prologue  
entreats us to overleap4  ,the ,three   
,parts of ,henry the ,sixth are now at  

length admitted to be ,shakspeare's4    
,theobald1 ,warburton1 and lastly       
,farmer1 affirmed that they were not    
,shakspeare's4 ,in this case1 we might  
well ask them to point out the other    
works of the unknown author1 who was    
capable of inventing1 among many others1
 the noble death-scenes of ,talbot1     
,suffolk1 ,beaufort1 and ,york4 ,the    
assertion is so ridiculous1 that in this
 case ,richard the ,third might also not
 be ,shakspeare's1 as it is linked in   
the most immediate manner to the three  
other pieces1 both by the subject1 and  
the spirit and style of handling4  ,all 
the editors1 with the exception of      
,capell1 are unanimous in rejecting     
,titus ,andronicus as unworthy of       
,shakspeare1 though they always allow it
 to be printed with the other pieces1 as
 the scape-goat1 as it were1 of their   
abusive criticism4 ,the correct method  
in such an investigation is first to    
examine into the external grounds1      
evidences1 c41 and to weigh their value2

 and then to adduce the internal reasons
 derived from the quality of the work4  
,the critics of ,shakspeare follow a    
course directly the reverse of this2    
they set out with a preconceived opinion
 against a piece1 and seek1 in          
justification of this opinion1 to render
 the historical ground suspicious1 and  
to set them aside4 ,now ,titus          
,andronicus is to be found in the first 
folio edition of ,shakspeare's works1   
which it is known was published by      
,heminge and ,condell1 for many years   
his friends and fellow-managers of the  
same theatre4 ,is it possible to        
persuade ourselves that they would not  
have known if a piece in their repertory
 did or did not really belong to        
,shakspeare8 ,and are we to lay to the  
charge of these honourable men an       
intentional fraud in this single case1  
when we know that they did not show     
themselves so very desirous of scraping 
everything together which went by the   
name of ,shakspeare1 but1 as it appears1

 merely gave those plays of which they  
had manuscripts in hand8 ,yet the       
following circumstance is still         
stronger4 ,george ,meres1 a contemporary
 and admirer of ,shakspeare1 in an      
enumeration of his works1 mentions      
,titus ,andronicus1 in the year #aeih4  
,meres was personally acquainted with   
the poet1 and so very intimately1 that  
the latter read over to him his sonnets 
before they were printed4 ,i cannot     
conceive that all the critical          
scepticism in the world would ever be   
able to get over such a testimony4      
,this tragedy1 it is true1 is framed    
according to a false idea of the tragic1
 which by an accumulation of cruelties  
and enormities1 degenerates into the    
horrible1 and yet leaves no deep        
impression behind3 the story of ,tereus 
and ,philomela is heightened and        
overcharged under other names1 and mixed
 up with the repast of ,atreus and      
,thyestes1 and many other incidents4 ,in
 detail there is no want of beautiful   

lines1 bold images1 nay1 even features  
which betray the peculiar conception of 
,shakspeare4 ,among these we may reckon 
the joy of the treacherous ,moor at the 
blackness and ugliness of his adulterous
 offspring2 and in the compassion of    
,titus ,andronicus1 grown childish      
through grief1 for a fly which had been 
struck dead1 while his rage afterwards1 
when he imagines he discovers in it his 
black enemy1 we recognize the future    
poet of ,lear4 ,are the critics afraid  
that ,shakspeare's fame would be        
injured1 were it established that in his
 early youth he ushered into the world a
 feeble and immature work8 ,was ,rome   
the less the conqueror of the world1    
because ,remus could leap over its first
 walls8 ,let any one place himself in   
,shakspeare's situation at the          
commencement of his career4 ,he found   
only a few indifferent models1 and yet  
these met with the most favourable      
reception1 because in the novelty of an 
art1 men are never difficult to please1 

before their taste has been made        
fastidious by choice and abundance4     
,must not this situation have had its   
influence on him before he learned to   
make higher demands on himself1 and by  
digging deeper in his own mind1         
discovered the rich veins of noble metal
 that ran there8 ,it is even highly     
probable that he must have made several 
failures before he succeeded in getting 
into the right path4 ,genius is in a    
certain sense infallible1 and has       
nothing to learn2 but art is to be      
learned1 and must be acquired by        
practice and experience4 ,in            
,shakspeare's acknowledged works we find
 hardly any traces of his               
apprenticeship1 and yet apprenticeship  
he certainly had4 ,this every artist    
must have1 and especially in a period   
where he has not before him the examples
 of a school already formed4 ,i consider
 it as extremely probable that          
,shakspeare began to write for the      
theatre at a much earlier period than   

the one which is generally stated1      
namely1 after the year #aeij4 ,it       
appears that1 as early as the year      
#aehd1 when only twenty years of age1 he
 had left his paternal home and repaired
 to ,london4 ,can we imagine that such  
an active head would remain idle for six
 whole years without making any attempt 
to emerge by his talents from an        
uncongenial situation8 ,that in the     
dedication of the poem of ,venus and    
,adonis he calls it the first heir of   
his invention1 proves nothing against   
the supposition4 ,it was the first which
 he printed2 he might have composed it  
at an earlier period2 perhaps1 also1 in 
this term1 heirs of his invention1 he   
did not indulge theatrical labours1     
especially as they then conferred but   
little to his literary dignity4 ,the    
earlier ,shakspeare began to compose for
 the theatre1 the less are we enabled to
 consider the immaturity and            
imperfection of a work a proof of its   
spuriousness in opposition to historical

 evidence1 if only we can discern in it 
prominent features of his mind4 ,several
 of the works rejected as spurious1 may 
still have been produced in the period  
betwixt ,titus ,andronicus1 and the     
earliest of the acknowledged pieces4    
,at last1 in two supplementary volumes1 
,steevens published seven pieces        
ascribed to ,shakspeare4 ,it is to be   
remarked1 that they all appeared in     
print in ,shakspeare's life-time1 with  
his name prefixed at full length4 ,they 
are the following3--  #a4 ,lochrine4    
,the proofs of the genuineness of this  
piece are not altogether unambiguous2   
the grounds for doubt1 on the other     
hand1 are entitled to attention4        
,however1 this question is immediately  
connected with that respecting ,titus   
,andronicus1 and must with it be        
resolved in the affirmative or negative4
  #b4 ,pericles1 ,prince of ,tyre4 ,this
 piece was acknowledged by ,dryden to be
 a work1 but a youthful work of         
,shakspeare's4 ,it is most undoubtedly  

his1 and it has been admitted into      
several late editions of his works4 ,the
 supposed imperfections originate in the
 circumstance1 that ,shakspeare here    
handled a childish and extravagant      
romance of the old poet ,gower1 and was 
unwilling to drag the subject out of its
 proper sphere4 ,hence he even          
introduces ,gower himself1 and makes him
 deliver a prologue in his own          
antiquated language and versification4  
,this power of assuming so foreign a    
manner is at least no proof of          
helplessness4  #c4 ,the ,london         
,prodigal4 ,if we are not mistaken1     
,lessing pronounced this piece to be    
,shakspeare's1 and wished to bring it on
 the ,german stage4  #d4 ,the ,puritan2 
or ,the ,widow of ,wailing ,street4 ,one
 of my literary friends1 intimately     
acquainted with ,shakspeare1 was of     
opinion that the poet must have wished  
for once to write a play in the style of
 ,ben ,jonson1 and that in this way we  
must account for the difference between 

the present piece and his usual manner4 
,to follow out this idea1 however1 would
 lead to a long and very nice critical  
investigation4  #e4 ,thomas ,lord       
,cromwell4  #f4 ,sir ,john              
,oldcastle4--,first part4  #g4 ,a       
,yorkshire ,tragedy4  ,the three last   
pieces are not only unquestionably      
,shakspeare's1 but in my opinion they   
deserve to be classed among his best and
 maturest works4 ,steevens at last      
admits1 in some degree1 that they1 as   
well as the rest1 except ,lochrine1 are 
,shakspeare's1 but he speaks of all of  
them with great contempt1 as worthless  
productions4 ,his condemnatory sentence 
is not1 however1 in the slightest degree
 convincing1 nor is it supported by much
 critical acumen4 ,i should like to see 
how such a critic would1 of his own     
natural suggestion1 have decided on     
,shakspeare's acknowledged              
master-pieces1 and how much he would    
have thought of praising in them1 had   
not the public opinion already imposed  

on him the duty of admiration4 ,thomas  
,lord ,cromwell and ,sir ,john          
,oldcastle are biographical dramas1 and 
in this species they are models3 the    
first1 by its subject1 attaches itself  
to ,henry the ,eighth1 and the second to
 ,henry the ,fifth4 ,the second part of 
,sir ,john ,oldcastle is wanting2 ,i    
know not whether a copy of the old      
edition has been discovered in ,england1
 or whether it is lost4 ,the ,yorkshire 
,tragedy is a tragedy in one act1 a     
dramatised tale of murder3 the tragical 
effect is overpowering1 and it is       
extremely important to see how          
poetically ,shakspeare could handle such
 a subject4  ,still farther1 there have 
been ascribed to him1 #ast4 ,the ,merry 
,devil of ,edmonton1 a comedy in one    
act1 printed in ,dodsley's ,collection  
of ,old ,plays4 ,this has1 certainly1   
some appearance in its favour4 ,it      
contains a merry landlord1 who bears    
great similarity to the one in ,the     
,merry ,wives of ,windsor4 ,however1 at 

all events1 though a clever1 it is but a
 hasty sketch4 #bnd4 ,the ,arraignment  
of ,paris4 #crd4 ,the ,birth of ,merlin4
 #dth4 ,edward the ,third4 #eth4 ,the   
,fair ,em4 7,emma74 #fth4 ,mucedorus4   
#gth4 ,arden of ,feversham4 ,i have     
never seen any of these1 and cannot     
therefore say anything respecting them4 
,from the passages cited1 ,i am led to  
conjecture that the subject of          
,mucedorus is the popular story of      
,valentine and ,orson3 a beautiful      
subject which ,lope de ,vega has also   
taken for a play4 ,arden of ,feversham  
is said to be a tragedy on the story of 
a man from whom the poet descended by   
the mother's side4 ,this circumstance1  
if the quality of the piece be not too  
directly at variance with its supposed  
authorship1 would afford an additional  
probability in its favour4 ,for such    
motives were not without their influence
 on ,shakspeare3 thus he treated with a 
manifest partiality1 ,henry ,,vii41 who 
had bestowed lands on his forefathers   

for services performed by them4  ,of    
,shakspeare's share in ,the ,two ,noble 
,cousins1 it will be the time to speak  
when ,i come to mention ,fletcher's     
works4  ,it would be very instructive1  
if it could be proved that several      
earlier attempts of works1 afterwards   
re-written1 proceeded from himself1 and 
not from an unknown author4 ,we should  
thus be best enabled to trace his       
development as an artist4 ,of the older 
,king ,john1 in two parts1 7printed by  
,steevens among six old plays17 this    
might probably be made out4 ,that he    
sometimes returned to an old piece is   
certain4 ,with respect to ,hamlet1 for  
instance1 it is well known1 that it was 
very gradually formed by him to its     
present perfect state4  ,whoever takes  
from ,shakspeare a play early ascribed  
to him1 and confessedly belonging to his
 time1 is certainly bound to answer1    
with some degree of probability1 this   
question3 who then wrote it8            
,shakspeare's competitors in the        

dramatic walk are pretty well known1 and
 if those of them who have even acquired
 a considerable reputation1 a ,lilly1 a 
,marlow1 a ,heywood1 are still very far 
below him1 we can hardly imagine that   
the author of a work1 which rises so    
high beyond theirs1 could have remained 
unknown4     ,,lecture ,,xxvii4  ,two   
periods of the ,english ,theatre3 the   
first the most important--,the first    
conformation of the ,stage1 and its     
advantages--,state of the ,histrionic   
,art in ,shakspeare's time--,antiquities
 of ,dramatic ,literature-- ,lilly1     
,marlow1 ,heywood--,ben                 
,jonson--,criticism of his              
,works--,masques-- ,beaumont and        
,fletcher--,general characterization of 
these ,poets1 and remarks on some of    
their ,pieces--,massinger and other     
contemporaries of ,charles the ,first4  
,the great master of whom we have spoken
 in the preceding ,lecture1 forms so    
singular an exception to the whole      
history of art1 that we are compelled to

 assign a particular place to him4 ,he  
owed hardly anything to his             
predecessors1 and he has had the        
greatest influence on his successors3   
but no man has yet learned from him his 
secret4 ,for two whole centuries1 during
 which his countrymen have diligently   
employed themselves in the cultivation  
of every branch of science and art1     
according to their own confession1 he   
has not only never yet been surpassed1  
but has left every dramatic poet at a   
great distance behind him4  ,in the     
sketch of a history of the ,english     
theatre which ,i am now to give1 ,i     
shall be frequently obliged to return to
 ,shakspeare4 ,the dramatic literature  
of the ,english is very rich2 they can  
boast of a large number of dramatic     
poets1 who possessed in an eminent      
degree the talent of original           
characterization1 and the knowledge of  
theatrical effect4 ,their hands were not
 shackled by prejudices1 by arbitrary   
rules1 and by the anxious observance of 

so-called proprieties4 ,there has never 
been in ,england an academical court of 
taste2 in art1 as in life1 every man    
there gives his voice for what best     
pleases him1 or what is most suitable to
 his nature4 ,notwithstanding this      
liberty1 their writers have not1        
however1 been able to escape the        
influence either of varying modes1 or of
 the spirit of different ages4  ,we     
shall here remain true to our principle 
of merely dwelling at length on what we 
consider as the highest efforts of      
poetry1 and of taking brief views of all
 that occupies but the second or third  
place4  ,the antiquities of the ,english
 theatre have been sufficiently         
illustrated by the ,english writers1 and
 especially by ,malone4 ,the earliest   
dramatic attempts were here as well as  
elsewhere ,mysteries and ,moralities4   
,however it would seem that in these    
productions the ,english distinguished  
themselves at an earlier period than    
other nations4 ,in the ,history of the  

,council of ,constance it is recorded   
that the ,english prelates1 in one of   
the intervals between the sittings1     
entertained their brethren with a       
spiritual play in ,latin1 such as the   
latter were either entirely unacquainted
 with1 or at least in such perfection1  
7as perfection was understood by the    
simple ideas of art of those times74    
,the beginning of a theatre1 properly so
 called1 cannot1 however1 be placed     
farther back than the reign of          
,elizabeth4 ,john ,heywood1 the buffoon 
of ,henry ,,viii4 is considered as the  
oldest comic writer3 the single         
,interlude under his name1 published in 
,dodsley's collection1 is in fact merely
 a dialogue1 and not a drama4 ,but      
,gammer ,gurton's ,needle1 which was    
first acted about the year #aefj1       
certainly deserves the name of a comedy4
 ,however antiquated in language and    
versification1 it possesses unequivocal 
merit in the low comic4 ,the whole plot 
turns on a lost needle1 the search for  

which is pursued with the utmost        
assiduity3 the poverty of the persons of
 the drama1 which this supposes1 and the
 whole of their domestic condition1 is  
very amusingly portrayed1 and the part  
of a cunning beggar especially is drawn 
with much humour4 ,the coarse comic of  
this piece bears a resemblance to that  
of the ,avocat ,patelin2 yet the        
,english play has not1 like the ,french1
 been honoured with a revival on the    
stage in a new shape4  ,the history of  
the ,english theatre divides itself     
naturally into two periods4 ,the first  
begins nearly with the accession of     
,elizabeth1 and extends to about the end
 of the reign of ,charles ,i41 when the 
,puritans gained the ascendency1 and    
effected the prohibition of all plays   
whatsoever4 ,the closing of the theatres
 lasted thirteen years2 and they were   
not again opened till the restoration of
 ,charles ,,ii4 ,this interruption1 the 
change which had taken place in the mean
 time on the general way of thinking and

 in manners1 and lastly1 the influence  
of the ,french literature which was then
 flourishing1 gave quite a different    
character to the plays subsequently     
written4 ,the works of the older school 
were indeed in part sought out1 but the 
school itself was extinct4 ,i apply the 
term of a school to the dramatical poets
 of the first aera1 in the same sense as
 it is taken in art1 for with all their 
personal differences we may still       
perceive on the whole a common character
 in their productions4 ,independently of
 the language or contemporary allusions1
 we should never be disposed to take a  
play of that school1 though ignorant of 
its author1 and the date of its         
production1 for a work of the more      
modern period4 ,the latter period admits
 of many subdivisions1 but with these1  
however1 we may dispense4 ,the talents  
of the authors1 and the taste of the    
public1 have fluctuated in every        
possible way2 foreign influence has     
gained more and more the ascendency1 and

 7to express myself without             
circumlocution17 the ,english theatre   
has in its progress become more and more
 destitute of character and             
independence4 ,for a critic1 who        
everywhere seeks originality1 troubling 
himself little about what has arisen    
from the following or the avoiding of   
imitation1 the dramatic poets of the    
first period are by far the most        
important1 although1 with the exception 
of ,shakspeare1 they may be reproached  
with great defects and extravagances1   
and although many of the moderns are    
distinguished for a more careful polish4
  ,there are times when the human mind  
all at once makes gigantic strides in an
 art previously almost unknown1 as if   
during its long sleep it had been       
collecting strength for the effort4 ,the
 age of ,elizabeth was in ,england such 
an epoch for dramatic poetry4 ,this     
queen1 during her long reign1 witnessed 
the first infantine attempts of the     
,english theatre1 and its most masterly 

productions4 ,shakspeare had a lively   
feeling of this general and rapid       
development of qualities not before     
called into exercise2 in one of his     
sonnets he calls his age1 these         
time-lettering days4 ,the predilection  
for the theatre was so great1 that in a 
period of sixty years1 under this and   
the following reign1 seventeen          
play-houses were built or fitted up in  
,london1 whereas the capital of the     
present day1 with twice the population1 
,footnote3 ,the author might almost have
 said six times4--,,trans4 is satisfied 
with two4 ,no doubt they did not act    
every day1 and several of these theatres
 were very small1 and probably not much 
better fitted up than ,marionette       
booths4 ,however1 they served to call   
forth the fertility of those writers who
 possessed1 or supposed that they       
possessed1 dramatic talents2 for every  
theatre must have had its peculiar      
repertory1 as the pieces were either not
 printed at all1 or at least not till   

long after their composition1 and as a  
single theatrical company was in the    
exclusive possession of the manuscripts4
 ,however many of feeble and lame       
productions might have been called      
forth1 still it was impossible that such
 an extensive competition should not    
have been advantageous4 ,of all the     
different species of poetry the dramatic
 is the only one in which experience is 
necessary3 and the failure of others is1
 for the man of talents1 an experiment  
at their expense4 ,moreover1 the        
exercise of this art requires vigorous  
determination1 to which the great artist
 is often the least inclined1 as in the 
execution he finds the greatest         
difficulty in satisfying himself2 while1
 on the other hand1 his greatest        
enjoyment consists in embodying in his  
own mind the beloved creation of his    
imagination4 ,it is therefore fortunate 
for him when the bolder forwardness of  
those who1 with trifling means1 venture 
on this difficult career stimulates him 

to put fresh hand to the work4 ,further1
 it is of importance to the dramatic    
poet to be connected immediately with   
the stage1 that he may either himself   
guide it1 or learn to accommodate       
himself to its wants2 and the dramatic  
poets of that day were1 for the most    
part1 also players4 ,the theatre still  
made small claims to literature1 and it 
thus escaped the pedantry of scholastic 
learning4 ,there were as yet no         
periodical writings which1 as the       
instrument of cabal1 could mislead      
opinion4 ,of jealousies1 indeed1 and    
bickerings among the authors there was  
no want3 this1 however1 was more a      
source of amusement than of displeasure 
to the public1 who decided without      
prejudice or partiality according to the
 amount of entertainment4 ,the poets and
 players1 as well as the spectators1    
possessed in general the most essential 
requisite of success3 a true love for   
the business4 ,this was the more        
unquestionable1 as the theatrical art   

was not then surrounded with all those  
foreign ornaments and inventions of     
luxury which serve to distract the      
attention and corrupt the sense1 but    
made its appearance in the most modest1 
and we may well say in the most humble  
shape4 ,for the admirers of ,shakspeare 
it must be an object of curiosity to    
know what was the appearance of the     
theatre in which his works were first   
performed4 ,we have an engraving of the 
play-house of which he was manager1 and 
which1 from the symbol of a ,hercules   
supplying the place of ,atlas1 was      
called the ,globe3 it is a massive      
structure destitute of architectural    
ornaments1 and almost without windows in
 the outward walls4 ,the pit was open to
 the sky1 and the acting was by         
day-light2 the scene had no other       
decoration than wrought tapestry1 which 
hung at some distance from the walls1   
and left space for several entrances4   
,in the back-ground of the stage there  
was a second stage raised above it1 a   

sort of balcony1 which served for       
various purposes1 and according to      
circumstances signified all manner of   
things4 ,the players appeared1 excepting
 on a few rare occasions1 in the dress  
of their time1 or at most distinguished 
by higher feathers on their hats and    
roses on their shoes4 ,the chief means  
of disguise were false hair and beards1 
and occasionally also masks4 ,the female
 parts were played by boys so long as   
their voice allowed it4 ,two companies  
of actors in ,london consisted entirely 
of boys1 namely1 the choir of the       
,queen's ,chapel and that of ,st4       
,paul's4 ,betwixt the acts it was not   
customary to have music1 but in the     
pieces themselves marches1 dances1 solo 
songs1 and the like1 were introduced on 
fitting occasions1 and trumpet          
flourishes at the entrance of great     
personages4 ,in the more early time it  
was usual to represent the action before
 it was spoken1 in silent pantomime     
7dumb show7 between each act1           

allegorically or even without any       
disguise1 to give a definite direction  
to the expectation4 ,shakspeare has     
observed this practice in the play in   
,hamlet4  ,by the present lavish        
appliance of every theatrical           
accessory2--of architecture1 lighting1  
music1 the illusion of decorations      
changing in a moment as if by           
enchantment1 machinery and costume2--by 
all this1 we are now so completely      
spoiled1 that this earlier meagreness of
 stage decoration will in no wise       
satisfy us4 ,much1 however1 might be    
urged in favour of such a constitution  
of the theatre4 ,where the spectators   
are not allured by any splendid         
accessories1 they will be the more      
difficult to please in the main thing1  
namely1 the excellence of the dramatic  
composition1 and its embodying by       
delivery and action4 ,when perfection is
 not attainable in external decoration1 
the critic will rather altogether       
overlook it than be disturbed by its    

deficiencies and tastelessness4 ,and how
 seldom has perfection been here        
attained6 ,it is about a century and a  
half since attention began to be paid to
 the observance of costume on the       
,european stage2 what with this view has
 been accomplished has always appeared  
excellent to the multitude1 and yet1 to 
judge from the engravings which         
sometimes accompany the printed plays1  
and from every other evidence1 it is    
plain that it was always characterized  
by puerility and mannerism1 and that in 
none the endeavours to assume a foreign 
or antique appearance1 could shake      
themselves free of the fashions of the  
time4 ,a sort of hoop was long          
considered as an indispensable appendage
 of a hero2 the long peruques and       
fontanges1 or topknots1 kept their      
ground in heroical tragedy as long as in
 real life2 afterwards it would have    
been considered as barbarous to appear  
without powdered and frizzled hair2 on  
this was placed a helmet with variegated

 feathers2 a taffeta scarf fluttered    
over the gilt paper coat of mail2 and   
the ,achilles or ,alexander was then    
completely mounted4 ,we have now at last
 returned to a purer taste1 and in some 
great theatres the costume is actually  
observed in a learned and severe style4 
,we owe this principally to the         
antiquarian reform in the arts of       
design1 and the approximation of the    
female dress to the ,grecian2 for the   
actresses were always the most          
inveterate in retaining on the stage    
those fashions by which they turned     
their charms to account in society4     
,however1 even yet there are very few   
players who know how to wear a ,grecian 
purple mantle1 or a toga1 in a natural  
and becoming manner2 and who1 in moments
 of passion1 do not seem to be unduly   
occupied with holding and tossing about 
their drapery4  ,our system of          
decoration was properly invented for the
 opera1 to which it is also in reality  
best adapted4 ,it has several           

unavoidable defects2 others which       
certainly may be1 but seldom are        
avoided4 ,among the inevitable defects  
,i reckon the breaking of the lines in  
the side scenes from every point of view
 except one2 the disproportion between  
the size of the player when he appears  
in the background1 and the objects as   
diminished in the perspective2 the      
unfavourable lighting from below and    
behind2 the contrast between the painted
 and the actual lights and shades2 the  
impossibility of narrowing the stage at 
pleasure1 so that the inside of a palace
 and a hut have the same length and     
breadth1 c4 ,the errors which may be    
avoided are1 want of simplicity and of  
great and reposing masses2 overloading  
the scenery with superfluous and        
distracting objects1 either from the    
painter being desirous of showing his   
strength in perspective1 or not knowing 
how otherwise to fill up the space2 an  
architecture full of mannerism1 often   
altogether unconnected1 nay1 even at    

variance with possibility1 coloured in a
 motley manner which resembles no       
species of stone in the world4 ,most    
scene-painters owe their success        
entirely to the spectator's ignorance of
 the arts of design2 ,i have often seen 
a whole pit enchanted with a decoration 
from which the eye of skill must have   
turned away with disgust1 and in whose  
place a plain green wall would have been
 infinitely better4 ,a vitiated taste   
for splendour of decoration and         
magnificence of dress1 has rendered the 
arrangement of the theatre a complicated
 and expensive business1 whence it      
frequently happens that the main        
requisites1 good pieces and good        
players1 are considered as secondary    
matters2 but this is an inconvenience   
which it is here unnecessary to mention4
  ,although the earlier ,english stage  
had properly no decorations1 we must    
allow1 however1 that it was not         
altogether destitute of machinery3      
without it1 it is almost impossible to  

conceive how several pieces1 for        
instance1 ,macbeth1 ,the ,tempest1 and  
others1 could ever be represented4 ,the 
celebrated architect1 ,inigo ,jones1 who
 lived in the reign of ,james the       
,first1 put in motion very complicated  
and artificial machines for the         
decoration of the ,masques of ,ben      
,jonson which were acted at court4      
,with the ,spanish theatre at the time  
of its formation1 it was the same as    
with the ,english1 and when the stage   
had remained a moment empty1 and other  
persons came in by another entrance1 a  
change of scene was to be supposed      
though none was visible2 and this       
circumstance had the most favourable    
influence on the form of the dramas4    
,the poet was not obliged to consult the
 scene-painter to know what could or    
what could not be represented2 nor to   
calculate whether the store of          
decorations on hand were sufficient1 or 
new ones would be requisite3 he was not 
driven to impose restraint on the action

 as to change of times and places1 but  
represented it entirely as it would     
naturally have taken place3 ,footnote3  
,capell1 an intelligent commentator on  
,shakspeare1 unjustly underrated by the 
others1 has placed the advantages in    
this respect in the clearest light1 in  
an observation on ,antony and           
,cleopatra4 ,it emboldened the poet1    
when the truth of the action required   
it1 to plan scenes which the most       
skilful mechanist and scene-painter     
could scarcely exhibit to the eye2 as   
for instance1 in a ,spanish play where  
sea-fights occur4 he left to the        
imagination to fill up the intervals    
agreeably to the speeches1 and to       
conceive all the surrounding            
circumstances4 ,this call on the fancy  
to supply the deficiencies supposes1    
indeed1 not merely benevolent1 but also 
intelligent spectators of a poetical    
tone of mind4 ,that is the true         
illusion1 when the spectators are so    
completely carried away by the          

impressions of the poetry and the       
acting1 that they overlook the secondary
 matters1 and forget the whole of the   
remaining objects around them4 ,to lie  
morosely on the watch to detect every   
circumstance that may violate an        
apparent reality which1 strictly        
speaking1 can never be attained1 is in  
fact a proof of inertness of imagination
 and an incapacity for mental illusion4 
,this prosaical incredulity may be      
carried so far as to render it utterly  
impossible for the theatrical artists1  
who in every constitution of the theatre
 require many indulgences1 to amuse the 
spectators by their productions2 and    
thus they are1 in the end1 the enemies  
of their own enjoyment4  ,we now        
complain1 and with justice1 that in the 
acting of ,shakspeare's pieces the too  
frequent change of scenes occasions an  
interruption4 ,but the poet is here     
perfectly blameless4 ,it ought to be    
known that the ,english plays of that   
time1 as well as the ,spanish1 were     

printed without any mention of the scene
 and its changes4 ,in ,shakspeare the   
modern editors have inserted the        
scenical directions2 and in doing so1   
they have proceeded with the most       
pedantic accuracy4 ,whoever has the     
management of the representation of a   
piece of ,shakspeare's may1 without any 
hesitation1 strike out at once all such 
changes of scene as the                 
following3-,another room in the palace1 
another street1 another part of the     
field of battle1 c4 ,by these means     
alone1 in most cases1 the change of     
decorations will be reduced to a very   
moderate number4  ,of the actor's art on
 a theatre which possessed so little    
external splendour as the old ,english1 
those who are in the habit of judging of
 the man from his dress will not be     
inclined to entertain a very favourable 
idea4 ,i am induced1 however1 from this 
very circumstance1 to draw quite a      
contrary conclusion3 the want of        
attractions of an accessory nature      

renders it the more necessary to be     
careful in essentials4 ,several         
,englishmen ,footnote3 ,see a ,dialogue 
prefixed to the #aath volume of         
,dodsley's ,old ,plays4 have given it as
 their opinion1 that the players of the 
first epoch were in all likelihood      
greatly superior to those of the second1
 at least with the exception of         
,garrick2 and if we had no other proof1 
the quality of ,shakspeare's pieces     
renders this extremely probable4 ,that  
most of his principal characters require
 a great player is self-evident2 the    
elevated and compressed style of his    
poetry cannot be understood without the 
most energetic and flexible delivery2   
besides1 he often supposes between the  
speeches a mute action of great         
difficulty1 for which he gives no       
directions4 ,a poet who labours only and
 immediately for the stage will not rely
 for his main effect on traits which he 
must beforehand know will be lost in the
 representation from the unskilfulness  

of his interpreters4 ,shakspeare        
consequently would have been driven to  
lower the tone of his dramatic art1 if  
he had not possessed excellent          
theatrical coadjutors4 ,of these1 some  
have descended by name and fame even to 
our times4 ,as for ,shakspeare himself1 
since we are not fond of allowing any   
one man to possess two great talents in 
an equal degree1 it has been assumed on 
very questionable grounds1 that he was  
but an indifferent actor4 ,footnote3 ,no
 certain account has yet been obtained  
of any principal part played by         
,shakspeare in his own pieces4 ,in      
,hamlet he played the ,ghost2 certainly 
a very important part1 if we consider   
that from the failure in it1 the whole  
piece runs a risk of appearing          
ridiculous4 ,a writer of his time says  
in a satirical pamphlet1 that the ,ghost
 whined in a pitiful manner2 and it has 
been concluded from this that           
,shakspeare was a bad player4 ,what     
logic6 ,on the restoration of the       

theatre under ,charles ,,ii41 a desire  
was felt of collecting traditions and   
information respecting the former       
period4 ,lowin1 the original ,hamlet1   
instructed ,betterton as to the proper  
conception of the character4 ,there was 
still alive a brother of ,shakspeare1 a 
decrepid old man1 who had never had any 
literary cultivation1 and whose memory  
was impaired by age4 ,from him they     
could extract nothing1 but that he had  
sometimes visited his brother in town1  
and once saw him play an old man with   
grey hair and beard4 ,from the above    
description it was concluded that this  
must have been the faithful servant     
,adam in ,as ,you ,like ,it1 also a     
second- rate part4 ,in most of          
,shakspeare's pieces we have not the    
slightest knowledge of the manner in    
which the parts were distributed4 ,in   
two of ,ben ,jonson's pieces we see     
,shakspeare's name among the principal  
actors4 ,hamlet's instructions1 however1
 to the players prove at least that he  

was an excellent judge of acting4 ,we   
know that correctness of conception and 
judgment are not always coupled with the
 power of execution2 ,shakspeare1       
however1 possessed a very important and 
too frequently neglected requisite for  
serious acting1 a beautiful and noble   
countenance4 ,neither is it probable    
that he could have been the manager of  
the most respectable theatre1 had he not
 himself possessed the talent both of   
acting and guiding the histrionic       
talents of others4 ,ben ,jonson1 though 
a meritorious poet1 could not even      
obtain the situation of a player1 as he 
did not possess the requisite           
qualifications4 ,from the passage cited 
from ,hamlet1 from the burlesque tragedy
 of the mechanics in the ,midsummer     
,night's ,dream1 and many other         
passages1 it is evident that there was  
then an inundation of bad players1 who  
fell into all the aberrations from      
propriety which offend at the present   
day1 but the public1 it would appear1   

knew well how to distinguish good and   
bad acting1 and would not be easily     
satisfied4 ,footnote3 ,in this respect1 
the following simile in ,richard the    
,second is deserving of attention3--    
,as in a theatre the eyes of men1       
,after a well-graced actor leaves the   
stage1   ,are idly bent on him that     
enters next1   ,thinking his prattle to 
be tedious1 c4  ,a thorough critical    
knowledge of the antiquities of the     
,english theatre can only he obtained in
 ,england2 the old editions of the      
pieces which belong to the earlier      
period are even there extremely rare1   
and in foreign libraries they are never 
to be met with2 the modern collectors   
have merely been able to give a few     
specimens1 and not the whole store4 ,it 
would be highly important to see        
together all the plays which were       
undoubtedly in existence before         
,shakspeare entered on his career1 that 
we might be able to decide with         
certainty how much of the dramatic art  

it was possible for him to learn from   
others4 ,the year of the appearance of a
 piece on the stage is generally1       
however1 difficult to ascertain1 as it  
was often not printed till long         
afterwards4 ,if in the labours of       
,shakspeare's contemporaries1 even the  
older who continued to write at the same
 time with himself1 we can discover     
resemblances to his style and traces of 
his art1 still it will always remain    
doubtful whether we are to consider     
these as the feeble model1 or the       
imperfect imitation4 ,shakspeare appears
 to have had all the flexibility of     
mind1 and all the modesty of ,raphael1  
who1 also1 without ever being an        
imitator and becoming unfaithful to his 
sublime and tranquil genius1 applied to 
his own advantage all the improvements  
of his competitors4  ,a few feeble      
attempts to introduce the form of the   
antique tragedy with choruses1 c41 were 
at an early period made1 and praised1   
without producing any effect4 ,they1    

like most of the attempts of the moderns
 in this way1 serve to prove how strange
 were the spectacles through which the  
old poets were viewed2 for it is hardly 
to be conceived how unlike they are to  
the ,greek tragedies1 not merely in     
merit 7for that we may easily suppose71 
but even in those external circumstances
 which may be the most easily seized and
 imitated4 ,ferrex and ,porrex1 or the  
,tragedy of ,gorboduc1 is most          
frequently cited1 which was the         
production of a nobleman ,footnote3     
,thomas ,sackville1 ,lord ,buckhurst1   
conjointly with ,norton4--,f4,d41 in the
 first part of the reign of ,elizabeth4 
,pope bestows high praise on this piece1
 on account of its regularity1 and      
laments that the contemporary poets did 
not follow in the same track2 for thus  
he thought a classical theatre might    
have been formed in ,england4 ,this     
opinion only proves that ,pope 7who1    
however1 passes for a perfect judge of  
poetry17 had not even an idea of the    

first elements of ,dramatic ,art4       
,nothing can be more spiritless and     
inanimate1 nor more drawling and        
monotonous in the language and the      
versification1 than this ,ferrex and    
,porrex2 and although the ,unities of   
,place and ,time are in no way observed1
 and a number of events are crowded into
 it1 yet the scene is wholly destitute  
of movement3 all that happens is        
previously announced by endless         
consultations1 and afterwards stated in 
equally endless narratives4 ,mustapha1  
another unsuccessful work of a kindred  
description1 and also by a great lord1  
,footnote3 ,grevile1 ,lord ,broke4 is a 
tedious web of all sorts of political   
subtleties2 the choruses in particular  
are true treatises4 ,however1 of the    
innumerable maxims in rhyme1 there are  
many which might well have a place in   
the later pieces of ,corneille4 ,kyd1   
one of the predecessors of ,ben ,jonson1
 and mentioned by him in terms of       
praise1 handled the ,cornelia of        

,garnier4 ,this may be called receiving 
an imitation of the ancients from the   
third or fourth hand4  ,the first       
serious piece calculated for popular    
effect is ,the ,spanish ,tragedy by     
,thomas ,kyd1 so called from the scene  
of the story1 and not from its being    
borrowed from a ,spanish writer4 ,it    
kept possession of the stage for a      
tolerable length of time1 though it was 
often the subject of the ridicule and   
the parodies of succeeding poets4 ,it   
usually happens that the public do not  
easily give up a predilection formed in 
their first warm susceptibility for the 
impressions of an art yet unknown to    
them1 even after they have long been    
acquainted with better1 nay1 with       
excellent works4 ,this piece is         
certainly full of puerilities2 the      
author has ventured on the picture of   
violent situations and passions without 
suspecting his own want of power2 the   
catastrophe1 more especially1 which in  
horror is intended to outstrip          

everything conceivable1 is very sillily 
introduced1 and produces merely a       
ludicrous effect4 ,the whole is like the
 drawings of children1 without the      
observance of proportion1 and without   
steadiness of hand4 ,with a great deal  
of bombast1 the tone of the dialogue1   
however1 has something natural1 nay1    
even familiar1 and in the change of     
scenes we perceive a light movement1    
which in some degree will account for   
the general applause received by this   
immature production4  ,lilly and ,marlow
 deserve to be noticed among the        
predecessors of ,shakspeare4 ,lilly was 
a scholar1 and laboured to introduce a  
stilted elegance into ,english prose1   
and in the tone of dialogue1 with such  
success1 that for a period he was the   
fashionable writer1 and the court ladies
 even formed their conversation after   
the model of his ,euphues4 ,his comedy  
in prose1 ,campaspe1 is a warning       
example of the impossibility of ever    
constructing1 out of mere anecdotes and 

epigrammatic sallies1 anything like a   
dramatic whole4 ,the author was a       
learned witling1 but in no respect a    
poet4  ,marlow possessed more real      
talent1 and was in a better way4 ,he has
 handled the history of ,edward the     
,second with very little of art1 it is  
true1 but with a certain truth and      
simplicity1 so that in many scenes he   
does not fail to produce a pathetic     
effect4 ,his verses are flowing1 but    
without energy3 how ,ben ,jonson could  
come to use the expression ,marlow's    
mighty line1 is more than ,i can        
conceive4 ,shakspeare could neither     
learn nor derive anything from the      
luscious manner of ,lilly3 but in       
,marlow's ,edward the ,second ,i        
certainly imagine that ,i can discover  
the feebler model of the earliest       
historical pieces of ,shakspeare4  ,of  
the old comedies in ,dodsley's          
collection1 ,the ,pinner of ,wakefielde1
 and ,grim1 the ,collier of ,croydon1   
seem alone to belong to a period before 

,shakspeare4 ,both are not without      
merit1 in the manner of ,marionette     
pieces2 in the first1 a popular         
tradition1 and in the second1 a merry   
legend1 is handled with hearty          
joviality4  ,i have dwelt longer on the 
beginnings of the ,english theatre1 than
 from their internal worth they deserve1
 because it has been affirmed recently  
in ,england that ,shakspeare shows more 
affinity to the works of his            
contemporaries now sunk in oblivion than
 people have hitherto been usually      
disposed to believe4 ,we are as little  
to wonder at certain outward            
resemblances1 as at the similarity of   
the dresses in portraits of the same    
period4 ,in a more limited sense1       
however1 we apply the word resemblance  
exclusively to the relation of those    
features which express the spirit and   
the mind4 ,moreover1 such plays alone   
can be admitted to be a satisfactory    
proof of an assertion of this kind as   
are ascertained to have been written    

before the commencement of ,shakspeare's
 career2 for in the works of his younger
 contemporaries1 a ,decker1 ,marston1   
,webster1 and others1 something of a    
resemblance may be very naturally       
accounted for3 distinct traces of       
imitation of ,shakspeare are            
sufficiently abundant4 ,their imitation 
was1 however1 merely confined to        
external appearance and separate        
peculiarities2 these writers1 without   
the virtues of their model1 possess in  
reality all the faults which senseless  
critics have falsely censured in        
,shakspeare4  ,a sentence somewhat more 
favourable is merited by ,chapman1 the  
translator of ,homer1 and ,thomas       
,heywood1 if we may judge of them from  
the single specimens of their works in  
,dodsley's collection4 ,chapman has     
handled the well-known story of the     
,ephesian matron1 under the title of    
,the ,widow's ,tears1 not without comic 
talent4 ,heywood's ,woman ,killed with  
,kindness is a familiar tragedy3 so     

early may we find examples of this      
species1 which has been given out for   
new4 ,it is the story of a wife tenderly
 beloved by her husband1 and seduced by 
a man whom he had loaded with benefits2 
her sin is discovered1 and the severest 
resolution which her husband can bring  
himself to form is to remove her from   
him1 without proclaiming her dishonour2 
she repents1 and grieves to death in    
bitter repentence4 ,a due gradation is  
not observed in the seduction1 but the  
last scenes are truly agitating4 ,a     
distinct avowal of a moral aim is1      
perhaps1 essential to the familiar      
tragedy2 or rather1 by means of such an 
aim1 a picture of human destinies1      
whether afflicting kings or private     
families1 is drawn from the ideal sphere
 into the prosaic world4 ,but when once 
we admit the title of this subordinate  
species1 we shall find that the demands 
of morality and the dramatic art        
coincide1 and that the utmost severity  
of moral principles leads again to      

poetical elevation4 ,the aspect of that 
false repentance which merely seeks     
exemption from punishment1 is painful2  
repentance1 as the pain arising from the
 irreparable forfeiture of innocence1 is
 susceptible of a truly tragic          
portraiture4 ,let only the play in      
question receive a happy conclusion1    
such as in a well-known piece ,footnote3
 ,the author alludes to ,kotzebue's play
 of ,menschenhass und ,reue--7,the      
,stranger74--,,trans4 has1              
notwithstanding this painful feeling1   
been so generally applauded in the      
present day--viz41 the reconciliation of
 the husband and wife1 not on the       
death-bed of the repentant sinner1 but  
in sound mind and body1 and the renewal 
of the marriage2 and it will then be    
found that it has not merely lost its   
moral1 but also its poetical impression4
  ,in other respects1 this piece of     
,heywood is very inartistic1 and        
carelessly finished3 instead of duly    
developing the main action1 the author  

distracts our attention by a second     
intrigue1 which can hardly be said to   
have the slightest connection with the  
other4 ,at this we need hardly be       
astonished1 for ,heywood was both a     
player and an excessively prolific      
author4 ,two hundred and twenty pieces  
were1 he says1 written entirely1 or for 
the greatest part1 by himself2 and he   
was so careless respecting these        
productions1 which were probably thrown 
off without any great labour1 that he   
had lost the manuscript of the most of  
them1 and only twenty-five remained for 
publication through the press4  ,all the
 above authors1 and many others beside1 
whatever applause they obtained in their
 life-time1 have been unsuccessful in   
transmitting a living memorial of their 
works to posterity4 ,of ,shakspeare's   
younger contemporaries and competitors1 
few have attained this distinction2 and 
of these ,ben ,jonson1 ,beaumont and    
,fletcher1 and ,massinger1 are the      
chief4  ,ben ,jonson found in           

,shakspeare a ready encourager of his   
talents4 ,his first piece1 imperfect in 
many respects1 ,every ,man in his       
,humour1 was by ,shakspeare's           
intervention brought out on the stage2  
,sejanus was even retouched by him1 and 
in both he undertook a principal        
character4 ,this hospitable reception on
 the part of that great man1 who was far
 above every thing like jealousy and    
petty rivalry1 met with a very          
ungrateful return4 ,jonson assumed a    
superiority over ,shakspeare on account 
of his school learning1 the only point  
in which he really had an advantage2 he 
introduced all sorts of biting allusions
 into his pieces and prologues1 and     
reprobated more especially those magical
 flights of fancy1 the peculiar heritage
 of ,shakspeare1 as contrary to genuine 
taste4 ,in his excuse we must plead1    
that he was not born under a happy star3
 his pieces were either altogether      
unsuccessful1 or1 compared with the     
astonishing popularity of ,shakspeare's1

 they obtained but a small share of     
applause2 moreover1 he was incessantly  
attacked1 both on the stage and         
elsewhere1 by his rivals1 as a          
disgraceful pedant1 who pretended to    
know every thing better than themselves1
 and with all manner of satires3 all    
this rendered him extremely irritable   
and uneven of temper4 ,he possessed in  
reality a very solid understanding2 he  
was conscious that in the exercise of   
his art he displayed zeal and           
earnestness3 that ,nature had denied him
 grace1 a quality which no labour can   
acquire1 he could not indeed suspect4   
,he thought every man may boast of his  
assiduity1 as ,lessing says on a similar
 occasion4 ,after several failures on   
the stage1 he formed the resolution to  
declare of his pieces in the outset that
 they were good1 and that if they should
 not please1 this could only proceed    
from the stupidity of the multitude4    
,the epigraph on one of his unsuccessful
 pieces with which he committed it to   

the press1 is highly amusing3 ,as it was
 never acted1 but most negligently      
played by some1 the ,king's servants1   
and more squeamishly beheld and censured
 by others1 the ,king's subjects4       
,jonson was a critical poet in the good 
and the bad sense of the word4 ,he      
endeavoured to form an exact estimate of
 what he had on every occasion to       
perform2 hence he succeeded best in that
 species of the drama which makes the   
principal demand on the understanding   
and with little call on the imagination 
and feeling1--the comedy of character4  
,he introduced nothing into his works   
which critical dissection should not be 
able to extract again1 as his confidence
 in it was such1 that he conceived it   
exhausted every thing which pleases and 
charms us in poetry4 ,he was not aware  
that1 in the chemical retort of the     
critic1 what is most valuable1 the      
volatile living spirit of a poem1       
evaporates4 ,his pieces are in general  
deficient in soul1 in that nameless     

something which never ceases to attract 
and enchant us1 even because it is      
indefinable4 ,in the lyrical pieces1 his
 ,masques1 we feel the want of a certain
 mental music of imagery and intonation1
 which the most accurate observation of 
difficult measures cannot give4 ,he is  
everywhere deficient in those           
excellencies which1 unsought1 flow from 
the poet's pen1 and which no artist1 who
 purposely hunts for them1 can ever hope
 to find4 ,we must not quarrel with him1
 however1 for entertaining a high       
opinion of his own works2 since1        
whatever merits they have1 he owed like 
acquired moral properties altogether to 
himself4 ,the production of them was    
attended with labour1 and unfortunately 
it is also a labour to read them4 ,they 
resemble solid and regular1 edifices1   
before which1 however1 the clumsy       
scaffolding still remains1 to interrupt 
and prevent us from viewing the         
architecture with ease1 and receiving   
from it a harmonious impression4  ,we   

have of ,jonson two tragical attempts1  
and a number of comedies and masques4   
,he could have risen to the dignity of  
the tragic tone1 but1 for the pathetic1 
he had not the smallest turn4 ,as he    
incessantly preaches up the imitation of
 the ancients1 7and he had1 we cannot   
deny1 a learned acquaintance with their 
works17 it is astonishing to observe how
 much his two tragedies differ1 both in 
substance and form1 from the ,greek     
tragedy4 ,from this example we see the  
influence which the prevailing tone of  
an age1 and the course already pursued  
in any art1 necessarily have upon even  
the most independent minds4 ,in the     
historical extent given by ,jonson to   
his ,sejanus and ,cataline1 unity of    
time and place were entirely out of the 
question2 and both pieces are crowded   
with a multitude of secondary persons1  
such as are never to be found in a      
,greek tragedy4 ,in ,cataline1 the      
prologue is spoken by the spirit of     
,sylla1 and it bears a good deal of     

resemblance to that of ,tantalus1 in the
 ,atreus and ,thyestes of ,seneca2 to   
the end of each act an instructive      
moralizing chorus is appended1 without  
being duly introduced or connected with 
the whole4 ,this is the extent of the   
resemblance to the ancients2 in other   
respects1 the form of ,shakspeare's     
historical dramas is adhered to1 but    
without their romantic charm4 ,we cannot
 with certainty say1 whether or not     
,jonson had the ,roman pieces of        
,shakspeare before him3 it is probable  
that he had in ,cataline at least2 but1 
at all events1 he has not learned from  
him the art of being true to history1   
and yet satisfying the demands of       
poetry4 ,in ,jonson's hands1 the subject
 continues history1 without becoming    
poetry2 the political events which he   
has described have more the appearance  
of a business than an action4 ,cataline 
and ,sejanus are solid dramatic studies 
after ,sallust and ,cicero1 after       
,tacitus1 ,suetonius1 ,juvenal1 and     

others2 and that is the best which we   
can say of them4 ,in ,cataline1 which   
upon the whole is preferable to         
,sejanus1 he is also to be blamed for   
not having blended the dissimilarity of 
the masses4 ,the first act possesses    
most elevation1 though it disgusts us   
from its want of moderation3 we see a   
secret assembly of conspirators1 and    
nature appears to answer the furious    
inspiration of wickedness by dreadful   
signs4 ,the second act1 which paints the
 intrigues and loves of depraved women1 
by means of which the conspiracy was    
brought to light1 treads closely on     
comedy2 the last three acts contain a   
history in dialogue1 developed with much
 good sense1 but little poetical        
elevation4 ,it is to be lamented that   
,jonson gave only his own text of       
,sejanus without communicating          
,shakspeare's alterations4 ,we should   
have been curious to know the means by  
which he might have attempted to give   
animation to the monotony of the piece  

without changing its plan1 and how far  
his genius could adapt itself to        
another's conceptions4  ,after these    
attempts1 ,jonson took his leave of the 
,tragic ,muse1 and in reality his       
talents were far better suited to       
,comedy1 and that too merely the ,comedy
 of ,character4 ,his characterization1  
however1 is more marked with serious    
satire than playful ridicule3 the later 
,roman satirists1 rather than the comic 
authors1 were his models4 ,nature had   
denied him that light and easy raillery 
which plays harmlessly round every      
thing1 and which seems to be the mere   
effusion of gaiety1 but which is so much
 the more philosophic1 as it is not the 
vehicle of any definite doctrine1 but   
merely the expression of a general      
irony4 ,there is more of a spirit of    
observation than of fancy in the comic  
inventions of ,jonson4 ,from this cause 
his pieces are also defective in point  
of intrigue4 ,he was a strong advocate  
for the purity of the species1 was      

unwilling to make use of any romantic   
motives1 and he never had recourse to a 
novel for the subject of his plots4 ,but
 his contrivances for the entangling and
 disentangling his plot are often       
improbable and forced1 without gaining  
over the imagination by their attractive
 boldness4 ,even where he had contrived 
a happy plot1 he took so much room for  
the delineation of the characters1 that 
we often lose sight of the intrigue     
altogether1 and the action lags with    
heavy pace4 ,occasionally he reminds us 
of those over-accurate portrait         
painters1 who1 to insure a likeness1    
think they must copy every mark of the  
small- pox1 every carbuncle or freckle4 
,frequently he has been suspected of    
having1 in the delineation of particular
 characters1 had real persons in his    
eye1 while1 at the same time1 he has    
been reproached with making his         
characters mere personifications of     
general ideas2 and1 however inconsistent
 with each other these reproaches may   

appear1 they are neither of them1       
however1 without some foundation4 ,he   
possessed a methodical head2            
consequently1 where he had once         
conceived a character in its leading    
idea1 he followed it out with the utmost
 rigour2 whatever1 having no reference  
to this leading idea1 served merely to  
give individual animation1 appeared to  
him in the light of a digression4 ,hence
 his names are1 for the most part1      
expressive even to an unpleasant degree 
of distinctness3 and1 to add to our     
satiety1 he not unfrequently tacks      
explanatory descriptions to the dramatis
 personae4 ,on the other hand1 he acted 
upon the principle1 that the comic      
writer must exhibit real life1 with a   
minute and petty accuracy4 ,generally he
 succeeded in seizing the manners of his
 own age and nation3 in itself this was 
deserving of praise2 but even here he   
confined himself too much to external   
peculiarities1 to the singularities and 
affectations of the modish tone which   

were then called humours1 and which from
 their nature are as transient as       
dresses4 ,hence a great part of his     
comic very soon became obsolete1 and as 
early as the re-opening of the theatre  
under ,charles ,,ii41 no actors could be
 found who were capable of doing justice
 to such caricatures4 ,local colours    
like these can only be preserved from   
fading by the most complete seasoning   
with wit4 ,this is what ,shakspeare has 
effected4 ,compare1 for instance1 his   
,osric1 in ,hamlet1 with ,fastidius     
,brisk1 in ,jonson's ,every ,man out of 
his ,humour3 both are portraitures of   
the insipid affectation of a courtier of
 the day2 but ,osric1 although he speaks
 his own peculiar language1 will remain 
to the end of time an exact and         
intelligible image of foppish folly1    
whereas ,fastidius is merely a portrait 
in a dress no longer in fashion1 and    
nothing more4 ,however1 ,jonson has not 
always fallen into this error2 his      
,captain ,bobadil1 for example1 in      

,every ,man in his ,humour1 a beggarly  
and cowardly adventurer1 who passes     
himself off with young and simple people
 for a ,hector1 is1 it is true1 far from
 being as amusing and original as       
,pistol2 but he also1 notwithstanding   
the change of manners1 still remains a  
model in his way1 and he has been       
imitated by ,english writers of comedy  
in after times4  ,in the piece ,i have  
just named1 the first work of ,jonson1  
the action is extremely feeble and      
insignificant4 ,in the following1 ,every
 ,man out of his ,humour1 he has gone   
still farther astray1 in seeking the    
comic effect merely in caricatured      
traits1 without any interest of         
situation3 it is a rhapsody of ludicrous
 scenes without connexion and progress4 
,the ,bartholomew ,fair1 also1 is       
nothing but a coarse ,bambocciate1 in   
which no more connexion is to be found  
than usually exists in the hubbub1 the  
noise1 the quarrelling1 and thefts1     
which attend upon such amusements of the

 populace4 ,vulgar delight is too       
naturally portrayed2 the part of the    
,puritan1 however1 is deserving of      
distinction3 his casuistical            
consultation1 whether he ought to eat a 
sucking-pig according to the custom of  
the fair1 and his lecture afterwards    
against puppet-shows as a heathen       
idolatry1 are inimitable1 and full of   
the most biting salt of comedy4 ,ben    
,jonson did not then foresee that1      
before the lapse of one generation1 the 
,puritans would be sufficiently powerful
 to take a very severe revenge on his   
art1 on account of similar railleries4  
,in so far as plot is concerned1 the    
greatest praise is merited by ,volpone1 
,the ,alchemist1 and ,epicoene1 or the  
,silent ,woman4 ,in ,volpone ,jonson for
 once has entered into ,italian manners1
 without1 however1 taking an ideal view 
of them4 ,the leading idea is admirable1
 and for the most part worked out with  
masterly skill4 ,towards the end1       
however1 the whole turns too much on    

swindling and villany1 which necessarily
 call for the interference of criminal  
justice1 and the piece1 from the        
punishment of the guilty1 has everything
 but a merry conclusion4 ,in the        
,alchemist1 both the deceivers and      
deceived supply a fund of entertainment1
 only the author enters too deeply into 
the learning of alchemy4 ,of an         
unintelligible jargon very short        
specimens at most ought to be given in  
comedy1 and it is best that they should 
also have a secondary signification1 of 
which the person who uses the mysterious
 language should not himself be aware2  
when carried to too great a length1 the 
use of them occasions as much weariness 
as the writings themselves which served 
as a model4 ,in ,the ,devil's an ,ass   
the poet has failed to draw due         
advantage from a fanciful invention with
 which he opens1 but which indeed was   
not his own2 and our expectation1 after 
being once deceived1 causes us to remain
 dissatisfied with other scenes however 

excellently comic4  ,of all ,jonson's   
pieces there is hardly one which1 as it 
stands1 would please on the stage in the
 present day1 even as most of them      
failed to please in his own time2       
extracts from them1 however1 could      
hardly fail to be successful4 ,in       
general1 much might be borrowed from    
him1 and much might be learned both from
 his merits and defects4 ,his characters
 are1 for the most part1 solidly and    
judiciously drawn2 what he most fails   
in1 is the art of setting them off by   
the contrast of situations4 ,he has     
seldom planned his scenes so            
successfully in this respect as in      
,every ,man in his ,humour1 where the   
jealous merchant is called off to an    
important business1 when his wife is in 
expectation of a visit of which he is   
suspicious1 and when he is anxious to   
station his servant as a sentinel1      
without however confiding his secret to 
him1 because1 above all things he dreads
 the discovery of his own jealousy4     

,this scene is a master-piece1 and if   
,jonson had always so composed1 we must 
have been obliged to rank him among the 
first of comic writers4  ,merely lest we
 should be charged with an omission do  
we mention ,the ,masques3 allegorical1  
occasional pieces1 chiefly designed for 
court festivals1 and decorated with     
machinery1 masked dresses1 dancing1 and 
singing4 ,this secondary species died   
again nearly with ,jonson himself2 the  
only subsequent production in this way  
of any fame is the ,comus of ,milton4   
,when allegory is confined to mere      
personification1 it must infallibly turn
 out very frigid in a play2 the action  
itself must be allegorical1 and in this 
respect there are many ingenious        
inventions1 but the ,spanish poets have 
almost alone furnished us with          
successful examples of it4 ,the         
peculiarity of ,jonson's ,masques most  
deserving of remark seems to me to be   
the anti-masque1 as they are called1    
which the poet himself sometimes        

attaches to his own invention1 and      
generally allows to precede the serious 
act4 ,as the ideal flatteries1 for whose
 sake the gods have been brought down   
from ,olympus1 are but too apt to fall  
into mawkishness1 this antidote on such 
occasions is certainly deserving of     
commendation4  ,ben ,jonson1 who in all 
his pieces took a mechanical view of    
art1 bore a farther resemblance to the  
master of a handicraft in taking an     
apprentice4 ,he had a servant of the    
name of ,broome1 who formed himself as a
 theatrical writer from the conversation
 and instructions of his master1 and    
brought comedies on the stage with      
applause4  ,beaumont and ,fletcher are  
always named together1 as if they had   
been two inseparable poets1 whose works 
were all planned and executed in common4
 ,this idea1 however1 is not altogether 
correct4 ,we know1 indeed1 but little of
 the circumstances of their lives3 this 
much however is known1 that ,beaumont   
died very young2 and that ,fletcher     

survived his younger friend ten years1  
and was so unremittingly active in his  
career as a dramatic poet1 that several 
of his plays were first brought on the  
stage after his death1 and some which he
 left unfinished were completed by      
another hand4 ,the pieces collected     
under both names amount to upwards of   
fifty2 and of this number it is probable
 that the half must be considered as the
 work of ,fletcher alone4 ,beaumont and 
,fletcher's works did not make their    
appearance until a short time after the 
death of the latter2 the publishers have
 not given themselves the trouble to    
distinguish critically the share which  
belonged to each1 and still less to     
afford us any information respecting the
 diversity of their talents4 ,some of   
their contemporaries have attributed    
boldness of imagination to ,fletcher1   
and a mature judgment to his friend3 the
 former1 according to their opinion1 was
 the inventive genius2 the latter1 the  
directing and moderating critic4 ,but   

this account rests on no foundation4 ,it
 is now impossible to distinguish with  
certainty the hand of each2 nor would   
the knowledge repay the labour4 ,all the
 pieces ascribed to them1 whether they  
proceed from one alone or from both1 are
 composed in the same spirit and in the 
same manner4 ,hence it is probable that 
it was not so much the need of supplying
 the deficiencies of each other1 as the 
great resemblance of their way of       
thinking1 which induced them to continue
 so long and so inseparably united4     
,beaumont and ,fletcher began their     
career in the lifetime of ,shakspeare3  
,beaumont even died before him1 and     
,fletcher only survived him nine years4 
,from some allusions in the way of      
parody1 we may conclude that they       
entertained no very extravagant         
admiration of their great predecessor2  
from whom1 nevertheless1 they both      
learned much1 and unquestionably        
borrowed many of their thoughts4 ,in the
 whole form of their plays they followed

 his example1 regardless of the         
different principles of ,ben ,jonson and
 of the imitation of the ancients4 ,like
 him they drew from novels and romances2
 they combined pathetic and burlesque   
scenes in the same play1 and1 by the    
concatenation of the incidents1         
endeavoured to excite the impression of 
the extraordinary and the wonderful4 ,a 
wish to surpass ,shakspeare in this     
species is often evident enough2        
contemporary eulogists1 indeed1 have no 
hesitation in ranking ,shakspeare far   
below them1 and assert that the ,english
 stage was first brought to perfection  
by ,beaumont and ,fletcher4 ,and1 in    
reality1 ,shakspeare's fame was in some 
degree eclipsed by them in the          
generation which immediately succeeded1 
and in the time of ,charles ,,ii4 they  
still enjoyed greater popularity3 the   
progress of time1 however1 has restored 
all three to their due places4 ,as on   
the stage the highest excellence will   
wear out by frequent repetition1 and    

novelty always possesses a great charm1 
the dramatic art is1 consequently1 much 
influenced by fashion2 it is more than  
other branches of literature and the    
fine arts exposed to the danger of      
passing rapidly from a grand and simple 
style to dazzling and superficial       
mannerism4  ,beaumont and ,fletcher were
 in fact men of the most distinguished  
talents2 they scarcely wanted anything  
more than a profounder seriousness of   
mind1 and that artistic sagacity which  
everywhere observes a due measure1 to   
rank beside the greatest dramatic poets 
of all nations4 ,they possessed         
extraordinary fecundity and flexibility 
of mind1 and a facility which however   
too often degenerated into carelessness4
 ,the highest perfection they have      
hardly ever attained2 and ,i should have
 little hesitation in affirming that    
they had not even an idea of it3        
however1 on several occasions they have 
approached quite close to it4 ,and why  
was it denied them to take this last    

step8 ,because with them poetry was not 
an inward devotion of the feeling and   
imagination1 but a means to obtain      
brilliant results4 ,their first object  
was effect1 which the great artist can  
hardly fail of attaining if he is       
determined above all things to satisfy  
himself4 ,they were not like the most of
 their predecessors1 players1 ,footnote3
 ,in the privilege granted by ,james ,i4
 to the royal players1 a ,laurence      
,fletcher is named along with           
,shakspeare as manager of the company4  
,the poet's name was ,john ,fletcher4   
,perhaps the former might be his brother
 or near relation4 but they lived in the
 neighbourhood of the theatre1 were in  
constant intercourse with it1 and       
possessed a perfect understanding of    
theatrical matters4 ,they were also     
thoroughly acquainted with their        
contemporaries2 but they found it more  
convenient to lower themselves to the   
taste of the public than to follow the  
example of ,shakspeare1 who elevated the

 public to himself4 ,they lived in a    
vigorous age1 which more willingly      
pardoned extravagancies of every        
description than feeblenesss and        
frigidity4 ,they therefore never allowed
 themselves to be restrained by poetical
 or moral considerations2 and in this   
confidence they found their account3    
they resemble in some measure           
somnambulists1 who with closed eyes pass
 safely through the greatest dangers4   
,even when they undertake what is most  
depraved they handle it with a certain  
felicity4 ,in the commencement of a     
degeneracy in the dramatic art1 the     
spectators first lose the capability of 
judging of a play as a whole2 hence     
,beaumont and ,fletcher bestow very     
little attention on harmony of          
composition and the observance of due   
proportion between all the different    
parts4 ,they not unfrequently lose sight
 of a happily framed plot1 and appear   
almost to forget it2 they bring         
something else forward equally capable  

of affording pleasure and entertainment1
 but without preparation1 and in the    
particular place where it occurs without
 propriety4 ,they always excite         
curiosity1 frequently compassion--they  
hurry us along with them2 they succeed  
better1 however1 in exciting than in    
gratifying our expectation4 ,so long as 
we are reading them we feel ourselves   
keenly interested2 but they leave very  
few imperishable impressions behind4    
,they are least successful in their     
tragic attempts1 because their feeling  
is not sufficiently drawn from the      
depths of human nature1 and because they
 bestowed too little attention on the   
general consideration of human          
destinies3 they succeed much better in  
,comedy1 and in those serious and       
pathetic pictures which occupy a middle 
place betwixt ,comedy and ,tragedy4     
,their characters are often arbitrarily 
drawn1 and1 when it suits the momentary 
wants of the poet1 become even untrue to
 themselves2 in external matters they   

are tolerably in keeping4 ,beaumont and 
,fletcher employ the whole strength of  
their talents in pictures of passion2   
but they enter little into the secret   
history of the heart2 they pass over the
 first emotions and the gradual         
heightening of a feeling2 they seize it1
 as it were1 in its highest maturity1   
and then develope its symptoms with the 
most overpowering illusion1 though with 
an exaggerated strength and fulness4    
,but though its expression does not     
always possess the strictest truth1     
nevertheless it still appears natural1  
every thing has free motion2 nothing is 
laboriously constrained or far- fetched1
 however striking it may sometimes      
appear4 ,in their dialogue they have    
completely succeeded in uniting the     
familiar tone of real conversation and  
the appearance of momentary suggestion  
with poetical elevation4 ,they even run 
into that popular affectation of the    
natural which has ensured such great    
success to some dramatic poets of our   

own time2 but as the latter sought it in
 the absence of all elevation of fancy1 
they could not help falling into        
insipidity4 ,beaumont and ,fletcher     
generally couple nature with fancy2 they
 succeed in giving an extraordinary     
appearance to what is common1 and thus  
preserve a certain fallacious image of  
the ideal4 ,the morality of these       
writers is ambiguous4 ,not that they    
failed in strong colours to contrast    
greatness of soul and goodness with     
baseness and wickedness1 or did not     
usually conclude with the disgrace and  
punishment of the latter1 but an        
ostentatious generosity is often        
favourably exhibited in lieu of duty and
 justice4 ,every thing good and         
excellent in their pictures arises more 
from transient ebullition than fixed    
principle2 they seem to place the       
virtues in the blood2 and close beside  
them impulses of merely a selfish and   
instinctive nature hold up their heads1 
as if they were of nobler origin4 ,there

 is an incurable vulgar side of human   
nature which1 when he cannot help but   
show it1 the poet should never handle   
without a certain bashfulness2 but      
instead of this ,beaumont and ,fletcher 
throw no veil whatever over nature4     
,they express every thing bluntly in    
words2 they make the spectator the      
unwilling confidant of all that more    
noble minds endeavour even to hide from 
themselves4 ,the indecencies in which   
these poets indulged themselves go      
beyond conception4 ,licentiousness of   
language is the least evil2 many scenes1
 nay1 even whole plots1 are so contrived
 that the very idea1 not to mention the 
beholding of them1 is a gross insult to 
modesty4 ,aristophanes is a bold        
mouth-piece of sensuality2 but like the 
,grecian statuaries in the figures of   
satyrs1 c41 he banishes them into the   
animal kingdom to which they wholly     
belong2 and judging him by the morality 
of his times1 he is much less offensive4
 ,but ,beaumont and ,fletcher hold up to

 view the impure and nauseous colours of
 vice in quite a different sphere2 their
 compositions resemble the sheet1 in the
 vision of the ,apostle1 full of pure   
and impure animals4 ,this was the       
universal tendency of the dramatic poets
 under ,james and ,charles ,i4 ,they    
seem as if they purposely wished to     
justify the assertion of the ,puritans1 
that theatres were so many schools of   
seduction and chapels of the ,devil4    
,to those who merely read for amusement 
and general cultivation1 we can only    
recommend the works of ,beaumont and    
,fletcher with some limitation          
,footnote3 ,hence ,i cannot approve of  
the undertaking1 which has been recently
 commenced1 of translating them into    
,german4 ,they are not at all adapted   
for our great public1 and whoever makes 
a particular study of dramatic poetry   
will have little difficulty in finding  
his way to the originals44 ,for the     
practical artist1 however1 and the      
critical judge of dramatic poetry1 an   

infinite deal may be learned from them2 
as well from their merits as their      
extravagancies4 ,a minute dissection of 
one of their works1 for which we have   
not here the necessary space1 would     
serve to place this in the clearest     
light4 ,with regard to representation1  
these pieces had1 in their day1 this    
advantage1 that they did not require    
such great actors to fill the principal 
characters as ,shakspeare's plays did4  
,in order to bring them on the stage in 
our days1 it would be necessary to      
re-cast most of them2 which might be    
done with some of them by omitting1     
moderating1 and purging various passages
 ,footnote3 ,so far as ,i know only one 
play has yet been brought on the ,german
 theatre1 namely1 ,rule a ,wife and have
 a ,wife1 re-written by ,schrder under  
the title of ,stille ,wasser sind tief  
7,still ,waters run deep7 which1 when   
well acted1 has always been uncommonly  
well received44  ,the ,two ,noble       
,kinsmen is deserving of more particular

 mention1 as it is the joint production 
of ,shakspeare and ,fletcher4 ,i see no 
ground for calling this in question2 the
 piece1 it is true1 did not make its    
appearance till after the death of both2
 but what could be the motive with the  
editor or printer for any deception1 as 
,fletcher's name was at the time in as  
great1 at least1 if not greater         
celebrity than ,shakspeare's8 ,were it  
the sole production of ,fletcher1 it    
would1 undoubtedly1 have to be ranked as
 the best of his serious and heroic     
pieces4 ,however1 it would be unfair to 
a writer of talent to take from him a   
work simply because it seems too good   
for him4 ,might not ,fletcher1 who in   
his thoughts and images not unfrequently
 shows an affinity to ,shakspeare1 have 
for once had the good fortune to        
approach closer to him than usual8 ,it  
would still be more dangerous to rest on
 the similarity of separate passages to 
others in ,shakspeare4 ,this might      
rather arise from imitation4 ,i rely    

therefore entirely on the historical    
statement1 which1 probably1 originated  
in a tradition of the players4 ,there   
are connoisseurs1 who1 in the pictures  
of ,raphael1 7which1 as is well know1   
were not always wholly executed by      
himself17 take upon them to determine   
what parts were painted by ,francesco   
,penni1 or ,giulio ,romano1 or some     
other scholar4 ,i wish them success with
 the nicety of their discrimination2    
they are at least secure from           
contradiction1 as we have no certain    
information on the subject4 ,i would    
only remind these connoisseurs1 that    
,giulio ,romano was himself deceived by 
a copy from ,raphael of ,andrea del     
,sarto's1 and that1 too1 with regard to 
a figure which he had himself assisted  
in painting4 ,the case in point is1     
however1 a much more complicated problem
 in criticism4 ,the design of ,raphael's
 figures was at least his own1 and the  
execution only was distributed in part  
among his scholars4 ,but to find out how

 much of ,the ,two ,noble ,kinsmen may  
belong to ,shakspeare1 we must not only 
be able to tell the difference of hands 
in the execution1 but also to determine 
the influence of ,shakspeare on the plan
 of the whole4 ,when1 however1 he once  
joined another poet in the production of
 a work1 he must also have accommodated 
himself1 in a certain degree1 to his    
views1 and renounced the prerogative of 
unfolding his inmost peculiarity4       
,amidst so many grounds for doubting1 if
 ,i might be allowed to hazard an       
opinion1 ,i should say1 that ,i think ,i
 can perceive the mind of ,shakspeare in
 a certain ideal purity1 which          
distinguishes this piece from all others
 of ,fletcher's1 and in the             
conscientious fidelity with which the   
story adheres to that of ,chaucer's     
,palamon and ,arcite4 ,in the style     
,shakspeare's hand is at first          
discoverable in a brevity and fulness of
 thought bordering on obscurity2 in the 
colour of the expression1 almost all the

 poets of that time bear a strong       
resemblance to each other4 ,the first   
acts are most carefully laboured2       
afterwards the piece is drawn out to too
 great a length and in an epic manner2  
the dramatic law of quickening the      
action towards the conclusion1 is not   
sufficiently observed4 ,the part of the 
jailor's daughter1 whose insanity is    
artlessly conducted in pure monologues1 
is certainly not ,shakspeare's2 for1 in 
that case1 we must suppose him to have  
had an intention of arrogantly imitating
 his own ,ophelia4  ,moreover1 it was   
then a very general custom for two or   
even three poets to join together in the
 production of one play4 ,besides the   
constant example of ,beaumont and       
,fletcher1 we have many others4 ,the    
consultations1 respecting the plan1 were
 generally held at merry meetings in    
taverns4 ,upon one of these occasions it
 happened that one in a poetical        
intoxication calling out1 ,i will       
undertake to kill the king6 was         

immediately taken into custody as a     
traitor1 till the misunderstanding was  
cleared up4 ,this mode of composing may 
answer very well in the lighter species 
of the drama1 which require to be       
animated by social wit4 ,with regard to 
theatrical effect1 four eyes may1 in    
general1 see better than two1 and mutual
 objections may be of use in finding out
 the most suitable means4 ,but the      
highest poetical inspiration is much    
more eremitical than communicative2 for 
it always seeks to express something    
which sets language at defiance1 which1 
therefore1 can only be weakened and     
dissipated by detached words1 and can   
only be attained by the common          
impression of the complete work1 whose  
idea is hovering before it4  ,the       
,knight of the ,burning ,pestle1 of     
,beaumont and ,fletcher1 is an          
incomparable work and singular in its   
kind4 ,it is a parody of the chivalry   
romances2 the thought is borrowed from  
,don ,quixote1 but the imitation is     

handled with freedom1 and so            
particularly applied to ,spenser's      
,fairy ,queen1 that it may pass for a   
second invention4 ,but the peculiarly   
ingenious novelty of the piece consists 
in the combination of the irony of a    
chimerical abuse of poetry with another 
irony exactly the contrary1 of the      
incapacity to comprehend any fable1 and 
the dramatic form more particularly4 ,a 
grocer and his wife come as spectators  
to the theatre3 they are discontented   
with the piece which has just been      
announced2 they demand a play in honour 
of the corporation1 and ,ralph1 their   
apprentice1 is to act a principal part  
in it4 ,their humour is complied with2  
but still they are not satisfied1 make  
their remarks on every thing1 and       
incessantly address themselves to the   
players4 ,ben ,jonson had already       
exhibited imaginary spectators1 but they
 were either benevolent expounders or   
awkward censurers of the poet's views3  
consequently1 they always conducted his1

 the poet's1 own cause4 ,but the grocer 
and his wife represent a whole genus1   
namely1 those unpoetical spectators1 who
 are destitute of a feeling for art4    
,the illusion with them becomes a       
passive error2 the subject represented  
has on them all the effect of reality1  
they accordingly resign themselves to   
the impression of each moment1 and take 
part for or against the persons of the  
drama4 ,on the other hand1 they show    
themselves insensible to all genuine    
illusion1 that is1 of entering vividly  
into the spirit of the fable3 for them  
,ralph1 however heroically and          
chivalrously he may conduct himself1 is 
always ,ralph their apprentice2 and in  
the whim of the moment they take upon   
them to demand scenes which are quite   
inconsistent with the plan of the piece 
that has been commenced4 ,in short1 the 
views and demands with which poets are  
often oppressed by a prosaical public   
are very cleverly and amusingly         
personified in these caricatures of     

spectators4  ,the ,faithful             
,shepherdess1 a pastoral1 is highly     
extolled by some ,english critics1 as it
 is without doubt finished with great   
care1 in rhymed1 and partly1 in lyrical 
verses4 ,fletcher wished also to be     
classical for once1 and did violence to 
his natural talent4 ,perhaps he had the 
intention of surpassing ,shakspeare's   
,midsummer ,night's ,dream2 but the     
composition which he has ushered into   
the world is as heavy as that of the    
other was easy and arial4 ,the piece is 
overcharged with mythology and rural    
painting1 is untheatrical1 and so far   
from pourtraying the genuine ideality of
 a pastoral world1 it even contains the 
greatest vulgarities4 ,we might rather  
call it an immodest eulogy of chastity4 
,i am willing to hope that ,fletcher was
 unacquainted with the ,pastor ,fido of 
,guarini1 for otherwise his failure     
would admit of less justification4  ,we 
are in want of space to speak in detail 
of the remaining works of ,beaumont and 

,fletcher1 although they might be made  
the subject of many instructive         
observations4 ,on the whole1 we may say 
of these writers that they have built a 
splendid palace1 but merely in the      
suburbs of poetry1 while ,shakspeare has
 his royal residence in the very centre 
point of the capital4  ,the fame of     
,massinger has been lately revived by an
 edition of his works4 ,some literary   
men wish to rank him above ,beaumont and
 ,fletcher1 as if he had approached more
 closely to the excellence of           
,shakspeare4 ,i cannot see it4 ,he      
appears to me to bear the greatest      
resemblance to ,beaumont and ,fletcher  
in the plan of the pieces1 in the tone  
of manners1 and even in the language and
 negligences of versification4 ,i would 
not undertake to decide1 from internal  
symptoms1 whether a play belonged to    
,massinger1 or ,beaumont and ,fletcher4 
,this applies also to the other         
contemporaries2 for instance1 to        
,shirley1 of whose pieces two are stated

 to have crept into the works ascribed  
to the two last-named poets4 ,there was 
7as already said7 at this time in       
,england a school of dramatic art1 a    
school of which ,shakspeare was the     
invisible and too often unacknowledged  
head2 for ,ben ,jonson remained almost  
without successors4 ,it is a            
characteristic of what is called manner 
in art to efface the features of        
personal originality1 and to make the   
productions of various artists bear a   
resemblance to each other2 and from     
manner no dramatic poet of this age1 who
 succeeded ,shakspeare1 can be          
pronounced altogether free4 ,when1      
however1 we compare their works with    
those of the succeeding age1 we perceive
 between them something about the same  
relation as between the paintings of the
 school of ,michel ,angelo and those of 
the last half of the seventeenth and the
 first half of the eighteenth century4  
,both are tainted with manner2 but the  
manner of the former bears the trace of 

a sublime origin in the first ages2 in  
the latter1 all is little1 affected1    
empty1 and superficial4 ,i repeat it3 in
 a general history of the dramatic art1 
the first period of the ,english theatre
 is the only one of importance4 ,the    
plays of the least known writers of that
 time1 7,i venture to affirm this1      
though ,i am far from being acquainted  
with all of them7 are more instructive  
for theory1 and more remarkable1 than   
the most celebrated of all the          
succeeding times4     ,,lecture         
,,xxviii4  ,closing of the ,stage by the
 ,puritans--,revival of the ,stage under
 ,charles the ,second--,depravity of    
,taste and ,morals--,dryden1 ,otway1 and
 others-- ,characterization of the      
,comic ,poets from ,wycherley and       
,congreve to the middle of the          
eighteenth century--,tragedies of the   
same ,period--,rowe-- ,addison's        
,cato--,later ,pieces--,familiar        
,tragedy3 ,lillo--,garrick-- ,latest    
state4   ,in this condition nearly the  

theatre remained under the reign of     
,charles ,i4 down to the year #afdg1    
when the invectives of the ,puritans    
7who had long murmured at the theatre1  
and at last thundered loudly against    
it17 were changed into laws4 ,to act1 or
 even to be a spectator of plays was    
prohibited under a severe penalty4 ,a   
civil war followed1 and the             
extraordinary circumstance here         
happened1 that the players1 7who1 in    
general1 do not concern themselves much 
about forms of government1 and whose    
whole care is usually devoted to the    
peaceable entertainment of their        
follow-citizens17 compelled by want1    
joined that political party the         
interests of which were intimately      
connected with their own existence4     
,almost all of them entered the army of 
the ,king1 many perished for the good   
cause1 the survivors returned to ,london
 and continued to exercise their art in 
secret4 ,out of the ruins of all the    
former companies of actors1 one alone   

was formed1 which occasionally1 though  
with very great caution1 gave           
representations at the country seats of 
the great1 in the vicinity of ,london4  
,for among the other singularities to   
which the violence of those times gave  
rise1 it was considered a proof of      
attachment to the old constitution to be
 fond of plays1 and to reward and       
harbour those who acted them in private 
houses4  ,fortunately the ,puritans did 
not so well understand the importance of
 a censorship as the ,governments of our
 day1 or the yet unprinted dramatic     
productions of the preceding age could  
not have issued from the press1 by which
 means many of them would have been     
irrecoverably lost4 ,these gloomy       
fanatics were such enemies of all that  
was beautiful1 that they not only       
persecuted every liberal mental         
entertainment1 calculated in any manner 
to adorn life1 and more especially the  
drama1 as being a public worship of     
,baal1 but they even shut their ears to 

church music1 as a demoniacal howling4  
,if their ascendency had been maintained
 much longer1 ,england must infallibly  
have been plunged in an irremediable    
barbarity4 ,the oppression of the drama 
continued down to the year #affj1 when  
the free exercise of all arts returned  
with ,charles ,,ii4  ,the influence     
which the government of this monarch had
 on the manners and spirit of the time1 
and the natural reaction against the    
principles previously dominant1 are     
sufficiently well known4 ,as the        
,puritans had brought republican        
principles and religious zeal into      
universal odium1 so this light-minded   
monarch seemed expressly born to sport  
away all respect for the kingly dignity4
 ,england was inundated with foreign    
follies and vices in his train4 ,the    
court set the fashion of the most       
undisguised immorality1 and its example 
was the more contagious1 the more people
 imagined that they could only show     
their zeal for the new order of things  

by an extravagant way of thinking and   
living4 ,the fanaticism of the          
republicans had been associated with    
strictness of manners1 nothing therefore
 could be more easy and agreeable than  
to obtain the character of royalists1 by
 the extravagant indulgence of all      
lawful and unlawful pleasures4 ,nowhere 
was the age of ,louis ,,xiv4 imitated   
with greater depravity4 ,but the        
prevailing gallantry of the court of    
,france had its reserve and a certain   
delicacy of feeling2 they sinned 7if ,i 
may so speak7 with some degree of       
dignity1 and no man ventured to attack  
what was honourable1 however at variance
 with it his own actions might be4 ,the 
,english played a part which was        
altogether unnatural to them3 they gave 
themselves up heavily to levity2 they   
everywhere confounded the coarsest      
licentiousness with free mental         
vivacity1 and did not perceive that the 
kind of grace which is still compatible 
with depravity1 disappears with the last

 veil which it throws off4  ,we can     
easily conceive the turn which1 under   
such auspices1 the new formation of     
taste must have taken4 ,there existed no
 real knowledge of the fine arts1 which 
were favoured merely like other foreign 
fashions and inventions of luxury4 ,the 
age neither felt a true want of poetry1 
nor had any relish for it3 in it they   
merely wished for a light and brilliant 
entertainment4 ,the theatre1 which in   
its former simplicity had attracted the 
spectators solely by the excellence of  
the dramatic works and the skill of the 
actors1 was now furnished out with all  
the appliances with which we are at this
 day familiar2 but what it gained in    
external decoration1 it lost in internal
 worth4  ,to ,sir ,william ,davenant1   
the ,english theatre1 on its revival    
after the interruption which we have so 
often mentioned1 owes its new           
institution1 if this term may be here   
used4 ,he introduced the ,italian system
 of decoration1 the costume1 as it was  

then well or ill understood1 the opera  
music1 and in general the use of the    
orchestra4 ,for this undertaking        
,charles ,,ii4 had furnished him with   
extensive privileges4 ,davenant was a   
sort of adventurer and wit2 in every way
 worthy of the royal favour2 to enjoy   
which1 dignity of character was never a 
necessary requisite4 ,he set himself to 
work in every way that a rich theatrical
 repertory may render necessary2 he made
 alterations of old pieces1 and also    
wrote himself plays1 operas1 prologues1 
c4 ,but of all his writings nothing has 
escaped a merited oblivion4  ,dryden    
soon became and long remained the hero  
of the stage4 ,this man1 from his       
influence in fixing the laws of         
versification and poetical language1    
especially in rhyme1 has acquired a     
reputation altogether disproportionate  
to his true merit4 ,we shall not here   
inquire whether his translations of the 
,latin poets are not manneristical      
paraphrases1 whether his political      

allegories 7now that party interest is  
dead7 can be read without the greatest  
weariness2 but confine ourselves to his 
plays1 which considered relatively to   
his great reputation1 are incredibly    
bad4 ,dryden had a gift of flowing and  
easy versification2 the knowledge which 
he possessed was considerable1 but      
undigested2 and all this was coupled    
with the talent of giving a certain     
appearance of novelty to what however   
was borrowed from all quarters2 his     
serviceable muse was the resource of an 
irregular life4 ,he had besides an      
immeasurable vanity2 he frequently      
disguises it under humble prologues2 on 
other occasions he speaks out boldly and
 confidently1 avowing his opinion that  
he has done better than ,shakspeare1    
,fletcher1 and ,jonson 7whom he places  
nearly on the same level72 all the merit
 of this he is1 however1 willing to     
ascribe to the refinement and advances  
of the age4 ,the age indeed6 as if that 
of ,elizabeth compared with the one in  

which ,dryden lived1 were not in every  
respect ,hyperion to a ,satyr6 ,dryden  
played also the part of the critic3 he  
furnished his pieces richly with        
prefaces and treatises on dramatic      
poetry1 in which he chatters most       
confusedly about the genius of          
,shakspeare and ,fletcher1 and about the
 entirely opposite example of           
,corneille2 of the original boldness of 
the ,british stage1 and of the rules of 
,aristotle and ,horace4--,he imagined   
that he had invented a new species1     
namely the ,heroic ,drama2 as if        
,tragedy had not from its very nature   
been always heroical6 ,if we are1       
however1 to seek for a heroic drama     
which is not peculiarly tragic1 we shall
 find it among the ,spaniards1 who had  
long possessed it in the greatest       
perfection4 ,from the uncommon facility 
of rhyming which ,dryden possessed1 it  
cost him little labour to compose the   
most of his serious pieces entirely in  
rhyme4 ,with the ,english1 the rhymed   

verse of ten syllables supplies the     
place of the ,alexandrine2 it has more  
freedom in its pauses1 but on the other 
hand it wants the alternation of male   
and female rhymes2 it proceeds in pairs 
exactly like the ,french ,alexandrine1  
and in point of syllabic measure it is  
still more uniformly symmetrical4 ,it   
therefore unavoidably communicates a    
great stiffness to the dialogue4 ,the   
manner of the older ,english poets      
before them1 who generally used blank   
verse1 and only occasionally introduced 
rhymes1 was infinitely preferable4 ,but1
 since then1 on the other hand1 rhyme   
has come to be too exclusively rejected4
  ,dryden's plans are improbable1 even  
to silliness2 the incidents are all     
thrown out without forethought2 the most
 wonderful theatrical strokes fall      
incessantly from the clouds4 ,he cannot 
be said to have drawn a single          
character2 for there is not a spark of  
nature in his dramatic personages4      
,passions1 criminal and magnanimous     

sentiments1 flow with indifferent levity
 from their lips1 without ever having   
dwelt in the heart3 their chief delight 
is in heroical boasting4 ,the tone of   
expression is by turns flat or madly    
bombastical2 not unfrequently both at   
the same time3 in short1 this poet      
resembles a man who walks upon stilts in
 a morass4 ,his wit is displayed in     
far-fetched sophistries2 his imagination
 in long-spun similies1 awkwardly       
introduced4 ,all these faults have been 
ridiculed by the ,duke of ,buckingham in
 his comedy of ,the ,rehearsal4 ,dryden 
was meant under the name of ,bayes1     
though some features are taken from     
,davenant and other contemporary        
writers4 ,the vehicle of this critical  
satire might have been more artificial  
and diversified2 the matter1 however is 
admirable1 and the separate parodies are
 very amusing and ingenious4 ,the taste 
for this depraved manner was1 however1  
too prevalent to be restrained by the   
efforts of so witty a critic1 who was at

 the same time a grandee of the kingdom4
  ,otway and ,lee were younger          
competitors of ,dryden in tragedy4      
,otway lived in poverty1 and died young2
 under more favourable circumstances    
greater things perhaps would have been  
done by him4 ,his first pieces in rhyme 
are imitations of ,dryden's manner2 he  
also imitated the ,berenice of ,racine4 
,two of his pieces in blank verse have  
kept possession of the stage--,the      
,orphan and ,venice ,preserved4 ,these  
tragedies are far from being good2 but  
there is matter in them1 especially in  
the last2 and amidst much empty         
declamation there are some truly        
pathetic passages4 ,how little ,otway   
understood the true rules of composition
 may be inferred from this1 that he has 
taken the half of the scenes of his     
,caius ,marius verbally1 or with        
disfiguring changes1 from the ,romeo and
 ,juliet of ,shakspeare4 ,nothing more  
incongruous can well he conceived1 than 
such an episode in ,roman manners1 and  

in a historical drama4 ,this impudent   
plagiarism is in no manner justified by 
his confessing it4  ,dryden altered     
pieces of ,shakspeare2 for then1 and    
even long afterwards1 every person      
thought himself qualified for this task4
 ,he also wrote comedies2 but ,wycherley
 and ,congreve were the first to acquire
 a name in this species of composition4 
,the mixed romantic drama was now laid  
entirely aside2 all was either tragedy  
or comedy4 ,the history of each of these
 species will therefore admit of being  
separately handled--if1 indeed1 that can
 be correctly said to have a history    
where we can perceive no progressive    
development1 but mere standing still1 or
 even retrograding1 and an inconstant   
fluctuation in all directions4 ,however1
 the ,english1 under ,charles ,,ii4 and 
,queen ,anne1 and down to the middle of 
the eighteenth century1 had a series of 
comic writers1 who may be all considered
 as belonging to one common class2 for  
the only considerable diversity among   

them arises merely from an external     
circumstance1 the varying tone of       
manners4  ,i have elsewhere in these    
,lectures shown that elegance of form is
 of the greatest importance in ,comedy1 
as from the want of care in this respect
 it is apt to degenerate into a mere    
prosaical imitation of reality1 and     
thereby to forfeit its pretensions to   
rank as either poetry or art4 ,it is    
exactly1 however1 in the form1 that the 
,english comedies are most negligent4   
,in the first place1 they are written   
entirely in prose4 ,it has been well    
remarked by an ,english critic1 that the
 banishment of verse from ,comedy had   
even a prejudicial influence on         
versification in ,tragedy4 ,the older   
dramatists could elevate or lower the   
tone of their ,iambics at pleasure2 from
 the exclusion of this verse from       
familiar dialogue1 it has become more   
pompous and inflexible4 ,shakspeare's   
comic scenes1 it is true1 are also      
written1 for the most part1 in prose2   

but in the ,mixed ,comedy1 which has a  
serious1 wonderful1 or pathetic side1   
the prose1 mixed with the elevated      
language of verse1 serves to mark the   
contrast between vulgar and ideal       
sentiments2 it is a positive means of   
exhibition4 ,continued prose in ,comedy 
is nothing but the natural language1 on 
which the poet has failed to employ his 
skill to refine and smoothe it down1    
while apparently he seems the more      
careful to give an accurate imitation of
 it3 it is that prose which ,molire's   
,bourgeois ,gentilhomme has been        
speaking his whole lifetime without     
suspecting it4  ,moreover1 the ,english 
comic poets tie themselves down too     
little to the unity of place4 ,i have on
 various occasions declared that ,i     
consider change of scene even a         
requisite1 whenever a drama is to       
possess historical extent or the magic  
of romance4 ,but in the comedy of common
 life the case is somewhat altogether   
different4 ,i am convinced that it would

 almost always have had a beneficial    
influence on the conduct of the action  
in the ,english plays1 if their authors 
had1 in this respect1 subjected         
themselves to stricter laws4  ,the      
lively trickery of the ,italian masks   
has always found a more unfavourable    
reception in ,england than in ,france4  
,the fool or clown in ,shakspeare's     
comedies is far more of an ironical     
humorist than a mimical buffoon4        
,intrigue in real life is foreign to the
 ,northern nations1 both from the       
virtues and the defects of their        
character2 they have too much openness  
of disposition1 and too little acuteness
 and nicety of understanding4 ,it is    
remarkable that1 with greater violence  
of passion1 the ,southern nations       
possess1 nevertheless1 in a much higher 
degree the talent of dissembling4 ,in   
the ,north1 life is wholly founded on   
mutual confidence4 ,hence1 in the drama1
 the spectators1 from being less        
practised in intrigue1 are less inclined

 to be delighted with concealment of    
views and their success by bold         
artifice1 and with the presence of mind 
which1 in unexpected events of an       
untoward nature1 readily extricates its 
possessor from embarrassment4 ,however1 
there may be an intrigue in ,comedy1 in 
the dramatic sense1 though none of the  
persons carry on what is properly called
 intrigue4 ,still it is in the          
entangling and disentangling their plots
 that the ,english comic writers are    
least deserving of praise4 ,their plans 
are defective in unity4 ,from this      
reproach ,i have1 ,i conceive1          
sufficiently exculpated ,shakspeare2 it 
is rather merited by many of ,fletcher's
 pieces4 ,when1 indeed1 the imagination 
has a share in the composition1 then it 
is far from being as necessary that all 
should be accurately connected together 
by cause and effect1 as when the whole  
is framed and held together exclusively 
by the understanding4 ,the existence of 
a double or even triple intrigue in many

 modern ,english comedies has been      
acknowledged even by ,english critics   
themselves4 ,footnote3 ,among others1 by
 the anonymous author of a clever letter
 to ,garrick1 prefixed to ,coxeter's    
edition of ,massinger's ,works1 who     
says--,what with their plots1 and double
 plots1 and counter-plots1 and          
under-plots1 the mind is as much        
perplexed to piece out the story as to  
put together the disjointed parts of an 
ancient drama4 ,the inventions to which 
they have recourse are often everything 
but probable1 without charming us by    
their happy novelty2 they are chiefly   
deficient1 however1 in perspicuity and  
easy development4 ,most ,english        
comedies are much too long4 ,the authors
 overload their composition with        
characters3 and we can see no reason why
 they should not have divided them into 
several pieces4 ,it is as if we were to 
compel to travel in the same stage-coach
 a greater number of persons1 all       
strangers to each other1 than there is  

properly room for2 the journey becomes  
more inconvenient1 and the entertainment
 not a whit more lively4  ,the great    
merit of the ,english comic poets of    
this period consists in the delineation 
of character2 yet though many have      
certainly shown much talent1 ,i cannot  
ascribe to any a peculiar genius for    
characterization4 ,even in this         
department the older poets 7not only    
,shakspeare1 for that may easily be     
supposed1 but even ,fletcher and        
,jonson7 are superior to them4 ,the     
moderns seldom possess the faculty of   
seizing the most hidden and involuntary 
emotions1 and giving a comic expression 
to them2 they generally draw merely the 
natural or assumed surface of men4      
,moreover1 the same circumstance which  
in ,france1 after ,molire's time1 was   
attended with such prejudicial effects1 
came here also into play4 ,the comic    
muse1 instead of becoming familiar with 
life in the middle and lower ranks 7her 
proper sphere71 assumed an air of       

distinction3 she squeezed herself into  
courts1 and endeavoured to snatch a     
resemblance of the beau monde4 ,it was  
now no longer an ,english national1 but 
a ,london comedy4 ,the whole turns      
almost exclusively on fashionable       
love-suits and fashionable raillery2 the
 love-affairs are either disgusting or  
insipid1 and the raillery is always     
puerile and destitute of wit4 ,these    
comic writers may have accurately hit   
the tone of their time2 in this they did
 their duty2 but they have reared a     
lamentable memorial of their age4 ,in   
few periods has taste in the fine arts  
been at such a low ebb as about the     
close of the seventeenth and during the 
first half of the eighteenth century4   
,the political machine kept its course2 
wars1 negotiations1 and changes of      
states1 give to this age a certain      
historical splendour2 but the comic     
poets and portrait-painters have        
revealed to us the secret of its        
pitifulness--the former in their copies 

of the dresses1 and the latter in the   
imitation of the social tone4 ,i am     
convinced that if we could now listen to
 the conversation of the beau monde of  
that day1 it would appear to us as      
pettily affected and full of tasteless  
pretension1 as the hoops1 the towering  
head-dresses and high-heeled shoes of   
the women1 and the huge perukes1        
cravats1 wide sleeves1 and ribbon-knots 
of the men4 ,footnote3 ,when ,i make    
good or bad taste in dress an infallible
 criterion of social elegance or        
deformity1 this must be limited to the  
age in which the fashion came up2 for it
 may sometimes be very difficult to     
overturn a wretched fashion even when1  
in other things1 a better taste has long
 prevailed4 ,the dresses of the ancients
 were more simple1 and consequently less
 subject to change of fashion2 and the  
male dress1 in particular1 was almost   
unchangeable4 ,however1 even from the   
dresses alone1 as we see them in the    
remains of antiquity1 we may form a     

pretty accurate judgment of the         
character of the ,egyptians1 the        
,greeks1 and the ,romans4 ,in the female
 portrait-busts of the time of the later
 ,roman emperors1 we often find the     
head-dresses extremely tasteless2 nay1  
even busts with peruques which may be   
taken off1 probably for the purpose of  
changing them1 as the originals         
themselves did4  ,the last1 and not the 
least defect of the ,english comedies is
 their offensiveness4 ,i may sum up the 
whole in one word by saying1 that after 
all we know of the licentiousness of    
manners under ,charles ,,ii41 we are    
still lost in astonishment at the       
audacious ribaldry of ,wycherley and    
,congreve4 ,decency is not merely       
violated in the grossest manner in      
single speeches1 and frequently in the  
whole plot2 but in the character of the 
rake1 the fashionable debauchee1 a moral
 scepticism is directly preached up1 and
 marriage is the constant subject of    
their ridicule4 ,beaumont and ,fletcher 

portrayed an irregular but vigorous     
nature3 nothing1 however1 can be more   
repulsive than rude depravity coupled   
with claims to higher refinement4 ,under
 ,queen ,anne manners became again more 
decorous2 and this may easily be traced 
in the comedies3 in the series of       
,english comic poets1 ,wycherley1       
,congreve1 ,farquhar1 ,vanbrugh1        
,steele1 ,cibber1 c41 we may perceive   
something like a gradation from the most
 unblushing indecency to a tolerable    
degree of modesty4 ,however1 the example
 of the predecessors has had more than a
 due influence on the successors4 ,from 
prescriptive fame pieces keep possession
 of the stage such as no man in the     
present day durst venture to bring out4 
,it is a remarkable phenomenon1 the     
causes of which are deserving of        
inquiry1 that the ,english nation1 in   
the last half of the eighteenth century1
 passed all at once from the most       
opposite way of thinking1 to an almost  
over-scrupulous strictness of manners in

 social conversation1 in romances and   
plays1 and in the plastic arts4  ,some  
writers have said of ,congreve that he  
had too much wit for a comic poet4      
,these people must have rather a strange
 notion of wit4 ,the truth is1 that     
,congreve and the other writers above   
mentioned possess in general much less  
comic than epigrammatic wit4 ,the latter
 often degenerates into a laborious     
straining for wit4 ,steele's dialogue1  
for example1 puts us too much in mind of
 the letters in the ,spectator4         
,farquhar's plots seem to me to be the  
most ingenious of all4  ,the latest     
period of ,english ,comedy begins nearly
 with ,colman4 ,since that time the     
morals have been irreproachable1 and    
much has been done in the way of refined
 and original characterization2 the     
form1 however1 has on the whole remained
 the same1 and in that respect ,i do not
 think the ,english comedies at all     
models4  ,tragedy has been often        
attempted in ,england in the eighteenth 

century1 but a genius of the first rank 
has never made his appearance4 ,they    
laid aside the manner of ,dryden1       
however1 and that at least was an       
improvement4 ,rowe was an honest admirer
 of ,shakspeare1 and his modest         
reverence for this superior genius was  
rewarded by a return to nature and      
truth4 ,the traces of imitation are not 
to be mistaken3 the part of ,gloster in 
,jane ,shore is even directly borrowed  
from ,richard the ,third4 ,rowe did not 
possess boldness and vigour1 but was not
 without sweetness and feeling2 he could
 excite the softer emotions1 and hence  
in his ,fair ,penitent1 ,jane ,shore1   
and ,lady ,jane ,gray1 he has           
successfully chosen female heroines and 
their weaknesses for his subjects4      
,addison possessed an elegant mind1 but 
he was by no means a poet4 ,he undertook
 to purify the ,english ,tragedy1 by    
bringing it into a compliance with the  
supposed rules of good taste4 ,we might 
have expected from a judge of the       

ancients1 that he would have endeavoured
 to approach the ,greek models4 ,whether
 he had any such intention ,i know not1 
but certain it is that he has produced  
nothing but a tragedy after the ,french 
model4 ,cato is a feeble and frigid     
piece1 almost destitute of action1      
without one truly overpowering moment4  
,addison has so narrowed a great and    
heroic picture by his timid manner of   
treating it1 that he could not1 without 
foreign intermixture1 even fill up the  
frame4 ,hence1 he had recourse to the   
traditional love intrigues2 if we count 
well1 we shall find in this piece no    
fewer than six persons in love3 ,cato's 
two sons1 ,marcia and ,lucia1 ,juba and 
,sempronius4 ,the good ,cato cannot1    
therefore1 as a provident father of a   
family1 avoid arranging two marriages at
 the close4 ,with the exception of      
,sempronius1 the villain of the piece1  
the lovers are one and all somewhat     
silly4 ,cato1 who ought to be the soul  
of the whole1 is hardly ever shown to us

 in action2 nothing remains for him but 
to admire himself and to die4 ,it might 
be thought that the stoical             
determination of suicide1 without       
struggle and without passion1 is not a  
fortunate subject2 but correctly        
speaking1 no subjects are unfortunate1  
every thing depends on correctly        
apprehending them4 ,addison has been    
induced1 by a wretched regard to ,unity 
of ,place1 to leave out ,caesar1 the    
only worthy contrast to ,cato2 and1 in  
this respect even ,metastasio has       
managed matters better4 ,the language is
 pure and simple1 but without vigour2   
the rhymeless ,iambic gives more freedom
 to the dialogue1 and an air somewhat   
less conventional than it has in the    
,french tragedies2 but in vigorous      
eloquence1 ,cato remains far behind     
them4  ,addison took his measures well2 
he placed all the great and small       
critics1 with ,pope at their head1 the  
whole militia of good taste under arms1 
that he might excite a high expectation 

of the piece which he had produced with 
so much labour4 ,cato was universally   
praised1 as a work without an equal4    
,and on what foundation do these        
boundless praises rest8 ,on regularity  
of form8 ,this had been already observed
 by the ,french poets for nearly a      
century1 and notwithstanding its        
constraints they had often attained a   
much stronger pathetic effect4 ,or on   
the political sentiments8 ,but in a     
single dialogue between ,brutus and     
,cassius in ,shakspeare there is more of
 a ,roman way of thinking and republican
 energy than in all ,cato4  ,i doubt    
whether this piece could ever have      
produced a powerful impression1 but its 
reputation has certainly had a          
prejudicial influence on ,tragedy in    
,england4 ,the example of ,cato1 and the
 translation of ,french tragedies1 which
 became every day more frequent1 could  
not1 it is true1 render universal the   
belief in the infallibility of the      
rules2 but they were held in sufficient 

consideration to disturb the conscience 
of the dramatic poets1 who consequently 
were extremely timid in availing        
themselves of the prerogatives they     
inherited from ,shakspeare4 ,on the     
other hand1 these prerogatives were at  
the same time problems2 it requires no  
ordinary degree of skill to arrange1    
with simplicity and perspicuity1 such   
great masses as ,shakspeare uses to     
bring together3 more of drawing and     
perspective are required for an         
extensive fresco painting1 than for a   
small oil picture4 ,in renouncing the   
intermixture of comic scenes when they  
no longer understood their ironical aim1
 they did perfectly right3 ,southern    
still attempted them in his ,oroonoko1  
but in his hands they exhibit a wretched
 appearance4 ,with the general knowledge
 and admiration of the ancients which   
existed in ,england1 we might have      
looked for some attempt at a true       
imitation of the ,greek ,tragedy2 no    
such imitation has1 however1 made its   

appearance2 in the choice and handling  
of their materials they show an         
undoubted affinity to the ,french4 ,some
 poets of celebrity in other departments
 of poetry1 ,young1 ,thomson1 ,glover1  
have written tragedies1 but no one of   
them has displayed any true tragical    
talent4  ,they have now and then had    
recourse to familiar tragedy to assist  
the barrenness of imagination2 but the  
moral aim1 which must exclusively       
prevail in this species1 is a true      
extinguisher of genuine poetical        
inspiration4 ,they have1 therefore1 been
 satisfied with a few attempts4 ,the    
,merchant of ,london1 and ,the          
,gamester1 are the only plays in this   
way which have attained any great       
reputation4 ,george ,barnwell is        
remarkable from having been praised by  
,diderot and ,lessing1 as a model for   
imitation4 ,this error could only have  
escaped from ,lessing in the keenness of
 his hostility to the ,french           
conventional tone4 ,for in truth it is  

necessary to keep ,lillo's honest views 
constantly in mind1 to prevent us from  
finding ,george ,barnwell as laughable  
as it is certainly trivial4 ,whoever    
possesses so little1 or rather1 no      
knowledge of men and of the world1 ought
 not to set up for a public lecturer on 
morals4 ,we might draw a very different 
conclusion from this piece1 from that   
which the author had in view1 namely1   
that to prevent young people from       
entertaining a violent passion1 and     
being led at last to steal and murder1  
for the first wretch who spreads her    
snares for them1 7which they of course  
cannot possibly avoid17 we ought1 at an 
early period1 to make them acquainted   
with the true character of courtezans4  
,besides1 ,i cannot approve of not      
making the gallows visible before the   
last scene2 such a piece ought always to
 be acted with a place of execution in  
the background4 ,with respect to the    
edification to be drawn from a drama of 
this kind1 ,i should prefer the         

histories of malefactors1 which in      
,england are usually printed at         
executions2 they contain1 at least1 real
 facts1 instead of awkward fictions4    
,garrick's appearance forms an epoch in 
the history of the ,english theatre1 as 
he chiefly dedicated his talents to the 
great characters of ,shakspeare1 and    
built his own fame on the growing       
admiration for this poet4 ,before his   
time1 ,shakspeare had only been brought 
on the stage in mutilated and disfigured
 alterations4 ,garrick returned on the  
whole to the true originals1 though he  
still allowed himself to make some very 
unfortunate changes4 ,it appears to me  
that the only excusable alteration of   
,shakspeare is1 to leave out a few      
things not in conformity to the taste of
 the time4 ,garrick was undoubtedly a   
great actor4 ,whether he always         
conceived the parts of ,shakspeare in   
the sense of the poet1 ,i1 from the very
 circumstances stated in the eulogies on
 his acting1 should be inclined to      

doubt4 ,he excited1 however1 a noble    
emulation to represent worthily the     
great national poet2 this has ever since
 been the highest aim of actors1 and    
even at present the stage can boast of  
men whose histrionic talents are        
deservedly famous4  ,but why has this   
revival of the admiration of ,shakspeare
 remained unproductive for dramatic     
poetry8 ,because he has been too much   
the subject of astonishment1 as an      
unapproachable genius who owed          
everything to nature and nothing to art4
 ,his success1 it is thought1 is without
 example1 and can never be repeated2    
nay1 it is even forbidden to venture    
into the same region4 ,had he been      
considered more from an artistic point  
of view1 it would have led to an        
endeavour to understand the principles  
which he followed in his practice1 and  
an attempt to master them4 ,a meteor    
appears1 disappears1 and leaves no trace
 behind2 the course of a heavenly body1 
however1 ought to be delineated by the  

astronomer1 for the sake of             
investigating more accurately the laws  
of general mechanics4  ,i am not        
sufficiently acquainted with the latest 
dramatic productions of the ,english1 to
 enter into a minute account of them4   
,that the dramatic art and the public   
taste are1 however1 in a wretched state 
of decline1 may1 ,i think1 be safely    
inferred from the following             
circumstance4 ,some years ago1 several  
,german plays found their way to the    
,english stage2 plays1 which1 it is     
true1 are with us the favourites of the 
multitude1 but which are not considered 
by the intelligent as forming a part of 
our literature1 and in which            
distinguished actors are almost ashamed 
of earning applause4 ,these pieces have 
met with extraordinary favour in        
,england2 they have1 properly speaking1 
as the ,italians say1 fatto furore1     
though indeed the critics did not fail  
to declaim against their immorality1    
veiled over by sentimental hypocrisy4   

,from the poverty of our dramatic       
literature1 the admission of such       
abominations into ,germany may be easily
 comprehended2 but what can be alleged  
in favour of this depravity of taste in 
a nation like the ,english1 which       
possesses such treasures1 and which must
 therefore descend from such an         
elevation8 ,certain writers are nothing 
in themselves2 they are merely symptoms 
of the disease of their age2 and were we
 to judge from them1 there is but too   
much reason to fear that1 in ,england1  
an effeminate sentimentality in private 
life is more frequent1 than from the    
astonishing political greatness and     
energy of the nation we should be led to
 suppose4  ,may the romantic drama and  
the grand historical drama1 those truly 
native species1 be again speedily       
revived1 and may ,shakspeare find such  
worthy imitators as some of those whom  
,germany has to produce6     ,,lecture  
,,xxix4  ,spanish ,theatre--,its three  
,periods3 ,cervantes1 ,lope de ,vega1   

,calderon-- ,spirit of the ,spanish     
,poetry in general--,influence of the   
,national ,history on it--,form1 and    
various species of the ,spanish         
,drama--,decline since the beginning of 
the eighteenth century4   ,the riches of
 the ,spanish stage have become         
proverbial1 and it has been more or less
 the custom of the ,italian1 ,french1   
and ,english dramatists1 to draw from   
this source1 and generally without      
acknowledgment4 ,i have often1 in the   
preceding ,lectures1 had occasion to    
notice this fact2 it was incompatible1  
however1 with my purpose1 to give an    
enumeration of all that has been so     
borrowed1 for it would have assumed     
rather a bulky appearance1 and without  
great labour it could not have been     
rendered complete4 ,what has been taken 
from the most celebrated ,spanish poets 
might be easily pointed out2 but the    
writers of the second and third rank    
have been equally laid under            
contribution1 and their works are not   

easily met with out of ,spain4          
,ingenious boldness1 joined to easy     
clearness of intrigue1 is so exclusively
 peculiar to the ,spanish dramatists1   
that whenever ,i find these in a work1  
,i consider myself justified in         
suspecting a ,spanish origin1 even      
though the circumstance may have been   
unknown to the author himself1 who drew 
his plagiarism from a nearer source4    
,footnote3 ,thus for example1 ,the      
,servant of two ,masters1 of ,goldoni1 a
 piece highly distinguished above his   
others for the most amusing intrigue1   
passes for an original4 ,a learned      
,spaniard has assured me1 that he knows 
it to be a ,spanish invention4 ,perhaps 
,goldoni had here merely an older       
,italian imitation before him4  ,from   
the political preponderance of ,spain in
 the sixteenth century1 a knowledge of  
its language became widely diffused     
throughout ,europe4 ,even in the first  
half of the seventeenth century1 many   
traces are to be found of an            

acquaintance with ,spanish literature in
 ,france1 ,italy1 ,england1 and         
,germany2 since that time1 however1 the 
study of it had every where fallen into 
neglect1 till of late some zeal for it  
has been again excited in ,germany4 ,in 
,france they have no other idea of the  
,spanish theatre1 than what can be      
formed from the translations of         
,linguet4 ,these again have been        
rendered into ,german1 and their number 
has been increased by others1 in no     
respect better1 derived immediately from
 the originals4 ,the translators have1  
however1 confined themselves almost     
exclusively to the department of        
comedies of intrigue1 and though all the
 ,spanish plays with the exception of a 
few ,entremeses1 ,saynetes1 and those of
 a very late period1 are versified1 they
 have turned the whole into prose1 and  
even considered themselves entitled to  
praise for having carefully removed     
every thing like poetical ornament4     
,after such a mode of proceeding nothing

 but the material scaffolding of the    
original could remain2 the beautiful    
colouring must have disappeared together
 with the form of execution4 ,that      
translators who could show such a total 
want of judgment as to poetical         
excellences would not choose the best   
pieces of the store1 may be easily      
supposed4 ,the species in question1     
though in the invention of innumerable  
intrigues1 of such a kind as the        
theatrical literature of all other      
countries can produce but few examples  
of it1 it certainly shows astonishing   
acuteness1 is1 nevertheless1 by no means
 the most valuable part of the ,spanish 
theatre1 which displays a much greater  
brilliancy in the handling of wonderful1
 mythological1 or historical subjects4  
,the selection published by ,de la      
,huerta in sixteen small volumes1 under 
the title of ,teatro ,hespaol1 with     
introductions giving an account of the  
authors of the pieces and the different 
species1 will not afford1 even to one   

conversant with the language1 a very    
extensive acquaintance with the ,spanish
 theatre4 ,his collection is limited    
almost exclusively to the department of 
comedies in modern manners1 and he has  
not admitted into it any of the pieces  
of an earlier period1 composed by ,lope 
de ,vega1 or his predecessors4          
,blankenburg and ,bouterwek ,footnote3  
,the former1 in his annotations on      
,sulzers ,theorie der schnen ,knste1 the
 latter in his ,geschichte der          
,spanischen ,poesie4 among ourselves    
have laboured to throw light on the     
earlier history of the ,spanish theatre1
 before it acquired its proper shape and
 attained literary dignity1--a subject  
involved in much obscurity4 ,but even at
 an after period1 an immense number of  
works were written for the stage which  
never appeared in print1 and which are  
either now lost or only exist in        
manuscript2 while1 on the other hand1   
there is hardly an instance of a piece  
being printed without having first been 

brought on the stage4 ,a correct and    
complete history of the ,spanish        
theatre1 therefore1 can only be executed
 in ,spain4 ,the notices of the ,german 
writers above-mentioned1 are however of 
use1 though not free from errors2 their 
opinions of the poetical merit of the   
several pieces1 and the general view    
which they have taken1 appear to me     
exceedingly objectionable4  ,the first  
advances of ,dramatic ,art in ,spain    
were made in the last half of the       
sixteenth century2 and with the end of  
the seventeenth it ceased to flourish4  
,in the eighteenth1 after the ,war of   
the ,succession1 7which seems to have   
had a very prejudicial influence on the 
,spanish literature in general17 very   
little can be mentioned which does not  
display extravagance1 decay1 the        
retention of old observances without    
meaning1 or a tame imitation of foreign 
productions4 ,the ,spanish literari of  
the last generation frequently boast of 
their old national poets1 the people    

entertain a strong attachment to them1  
and in ,mexico1 as well as ,madrid1     
their pieces are always represented with
 impassioned applause4  ,the various    
epochs in the formation of the ,spanish 
theatre may be designated by the names  
of three of its most famous authors1    
,cervantes1 ,lope de ,vega1 and         
,calderon4  ,the earliest and most      
valuable information and opinions on    
this subject are to be found in the     
writings of ,cervantes2 chiefly in ,don 
,quixote 7in the dialogue with the      
,canon71 in the ,preface to his later   
plays1 and in the ,journey to           
,parnassus4 ,he has also in various     
other places thrown out occasional      
remarks on the subject4 ,he had         
witnessed in his youth the commencement 
of the dramatic art in ,spain2 the      
poetical poverty of which1 as well as   
the meagreness of the theatrical        
decorations1 are very humorously        
described by him4 ,he was justified in  
looking upon himself as one of the      

founders of this art2 for before he     
gained immortal fame by his ,don        
,quixote he had diligently laboured for 
the stage1 and from twenty to thirty    
pieces 7so negligently does he speak of 
them7 from his pen had been acted with  
applause4 ,on this account1 however1 he 
made no very high claims1 nor after they
 had fulfilled their momentary          
destination did he allow any of them to 
be printed2 and it was only lately that 
two of these earlier labours were for   
the first time published4 ,one of these 
plays1 probably ,cervantes' first1 ,the 
,way of ,living in ,algiers 7,el ,trato 
de ,argel71 still bears traces of the   
infancy of the art in the preponderance 
of narrative1 in the general meagreness1
 and in the want of prominency in the   
figures and situations4 ,the other1     
however1 ,the ,destruction of ,numantia1
 has altogether the elevation of the    
tragical cothurnus2 and1 from its       
unconscious and unlaboured approximation
 to antique grandeur and purity1 forms a

 remarkable phenomenon in the history of
 modern poetry4 ,the idea of destiny    
prevails in it throughout2 the          
allegorical figures which enter between 
the acts supply nearly1 though in a     
different way1 the place of the chorus  
in the ,greek tragedies2 they guide the 
reflection and propitiate the feeling4  
,a great deed of heroism is             
accomplished2 the extremity of suffering
 is endured with constancy2 but it is   
the deed and the suffering of a whole   
nation whose individual members1 it may 
almost be said1 appear but as examples  
of the general fortitude and            
magnanimity1 while the ,roman heroes    
seem merely the instruments of fate4    
,there is1 if ,i may so speak1 a sort of
 ,spartan pathos in this piece3 every   
single and personal consideration is    
swallowed up in the feeling of          
patriotism2 and by allusions to the     
warlike fame of his nation in modern    
times1 the poet has contrived to connect
 the ancient history with the interests 

of his own day4  ,lope de ,vega         
appeared1 and soon became the sole      
monarch of the stage2 ,cervantes was    
unable to compete with him2 yet he was  
unwilling altogether to abandon a claim 
founded on earlier success2 and shortly 
before his death1 in the year #afae1 he 
printed eight plays and an equal number 
of smaller interludes1 as he had failed 
in his attempts to get them brought on  
the stage4 ,they have generally been    
considered greatly inferior to his other
 prose and poetical works2 their modern 
editor is even of opinion that they were
 meant as parodies and satires on the   
vitiated taste of the time3 but to find 
this hypothesis ridiculous1 we have only
 to read them without any such          
prepossession4 ,had ,cervantes          
entertained such a design1 he would     
certainly have accomplished it in a very
 different way in one piece1 and also in
 a manner both highly amusing and not   
liable to misconception4 ,no1 they were 
intended as pieces in the manner of     

,lope3 contrary to his own convictions1 
,cervantes has here endeavoured1 by a   
display of greater variety1 of wonderful
 plots1 and theatrical effect to comply 
with the taste of his contemporaries4   
,it would appear from them that he      
considered a superficial composition as 
the main requisite for applause2 his    
own1 at least1 is for the most part1    
extremely loose and ill-connected1 and  
we have no examples in his prose works  
of a similar degree of negligence4      
,hence1 as he partly renounced his      
peculiar excellences1 we need not be    
astonished that he did not succeed in   
surpassing ,lope in his own walk4 ,two1 
however1 of these pieces1 ,the          
,christian ,slaves in ,algiers 7,los    
,baos de ,argel71 an alteration of the  
piece before-mentioned1 and ,the        
,labyrinth of ,love1 are1 in their whole
 plot1 deserving of great praise1 while 
all of them contain so many beautiful   
and ingenious traits1 that when we      
consider them by themselves1 and without

 comparing them with the ,destruction of
 ,numantia1 we feel disposed to look on 
the opinion entertained pretty generally
 by the ,spanish critics as a mere      
prejudice4 ,but on the other hand1 when 
we compare them with ,lope's pieces1 or 
bear in mind the higher excellences to  
which ,calderon had accustomed the      
public1 this opinion will appear to     
admit of conditional justification4 ,we 
may1 on the whole1 allow that the mind  
of this poet was most inclined to the   
epic1 7taking the word in its more      
extensive signification1 for the        
narrative form of composition72 and that
 the light and gentle manner in which he
 delights to move the mind is not well  
suited to the making the most of every  
moment1 and to the rapid compression    
which are required on the theatre4 ,but 
when we1 on the other hand1 view the    
energetical pathos in ,the ,destruction 
of ,numantia1 we are constrained almost 
to consider it as merely accidental that
 ,cervantes did not devote himself      

wholly to this species of writing1 and  
find room in it for the complete        
development of his inventive mind4  ,the
 sentence pronounced by ,cervantes on   
the dramas of his later contemporaries  
is one of the neglected voices which1   
from time to time1 in ,spain have been  
raised1 insisting on the imitation of   
the ancient classics1 while the national
 taste had decidedly declared in favour 
of the romantic drama in its boldest    
form4 ,on this subject ,cervantes1 from 
causes which we may easily comprehend1  
was not altogether impartial4 ,lope de  
,vega had followed him as a dramatic    
writer1 and by his greater fertility and
 the effective brilliancy of his pieces1
 had driven him from the stage2 a       
circumstance which ought certainly to be
 taken into account in explaining the   
discontent of ,cervantes in his advanced
 age with the direction of the public   
taste and the constitution of the       
theatre4 ,it would appear1 too1 that in 
his poetical mind there was a certain   

prosaical corner in which there still   
lurked a disposition to reject the      
wonderful1 and the bold play of fancy1  
as contrary to probability and nature4  
,on the authority of the ancients he    
recommended a stricter separation of the
 several kinds of the drama2 whereas the
 romantic art endeavours1 in its        
productions1 as he himself had done in  
his romances and novels1 to blend all   
the elements of poetry2 and he censured 
with great severity1 as real offences   
against propriety1 the rapid changes of 
time and place4 ,it is remarkable that  
,lope himself was unacquainted with his 
own rights1 and confessed that he wrote 
his pieces1 contrary to the rules with  
which he was well acquainted1 merely for
 the sake of pleasing the multitude4    
,that this object entered prominently   
into his consideration is certainly     
true2 still he remains one of the most  
extraordinary of all the popular and    
favourite theatrical writers that ever  
lived1 and well deserves to be called in

 all seriousness by his rival and       
adversary1 ,cervantes1 a wonder of      
nature4  ,the pieces of ,lope de ,vega1 
numerous beyond all belief1 have partly 
never been printed2 while of those that 
have1 a complete collection is seldom to
 be found1 except in ,spain4 ,many      
pieces are probably falsely ascribed to 
him2 an abuse of which ,calderon also   
complains4 ,i know not whether ,lope    
himself ever gave a list of the pieces  
actually composed by him2 indeed he     
could hardly at last have remembered the
 whole of them4 ,however1 by reading a  
few1 we shall advance pretty far towards
 an acquaintance with this poet2 nor    
need we be much afraid lest we should   
have failed to peruse the most          
excellent1 as in his separate           
productions he does not surprise us by  
any elevated flight nor by laying open  
the whole unfathomable depths of his    
mind4 ,this prolific writer1 at one time
 too much idolized1 at another too much 
depreciated1 appears here undoubtedly in

 the most advantageous light1 as the    
theatre was the best school for the     
correction of his three great errors1   
want of connexion1 diffuseness1 and an  
unnecessary parade of learning4 ,in some
 of his pieces1 especially the          
historical ones1 founded on old romances
 or traditional tales1 for instance1    
,king ,wamba1 ,the ,youthful ,tricks of 
,bernardo del ,carpio1 ,the ,battlements
 of ,toro1 c41 there prevails a certain 
rudeness of painting1 which1 however1 is
 not altogether without character1 and  
seems to have been purposely chosen to  
suit the subjects3 in others1 which     
portray the manners of his own time1 as 
for instance1 ,the ,lively ,fair ,one of
 ,toldo1 ,the ,fair deformed1 we may    
observe a highly cultivated social tone4
 ,all of them contain1 besides truly    
interesting situations1 a number of     
inimitable jokes2 and there are1        
perhaps1 very few of them which would   
not1 if skilfully treated and adapted to
 our stages1 produce a great effect in  

the present day4 ,their chief defects   
are1 a profusion of injudicious         
invention1 and negligence in the        
execution4 ,they resemble the groups    
which an ingenious sketcher scrawls on  
paper without any preparation1 and      
without even taking the necessary time2 
in which1 notwithstanding this hasty    
negligence every line is full of life   
and significance4 ,besides the want of  
careful finish1 the works of ,lope are  
deficient in depth1 and also in those   
more delicate allusions which constitute
 the peculiar mysteries of the art4  ,if
 the ,spanish theatre had not advanced  
farther1 if it had possessed only the   
works of ,lope and the more eminent of  
his contemporaries1 as ,guillen de      
,castro1 ,montalban1 ,molina1           
,matos-,fragoso1 c41 we should have to  
praise it1 rather for grandeur of design
 and for promising subjects than for    
matured perfection4 ,but ,don ,pedro    
,calderon de la ,barca now made his     
appearance1 a writer as prolific and    

diligent as ,lope1 and a poet of a very 
different kind1--a poet if ever any man 
deserved that name4 ,the wonder of      
nature1 the enthusiastic popularity1 and
 the sovereignty of the stage were      
renewed in a much higher degree4 ,the   
years of ,calderon ,footnote3 ,born in  
#afja4 keep nearly equal pace with those
 of the seventeeth century2 he was      
consequently sixteen when ,cervantes1   
and thirty-five when ,lope died1 whom he
 survived nearly half a century4        
,according to his biographer's account1 
,calderon wrote more than a hundred and 
twenty plays1 more than a hundred       
spiritual allegorical acts 7,autos71 a  
hundred merry interludes or ,saynetes   
,footnote3 ,this account is perhaps     
somewhat rhetorical4 ,the most complete1
 and in every respect the best edition  
of the plays1 that of ,apontes1 contains
 only a hundred and eight pieces4 ,at   
the request of a great ,lord1 ,calderon1
 shortly before his death1 gave a list  
of his genuine works4 ,he names a       

hundred and eleven plays2 but among them
 there are considerably more than three 
which are not to be found in the        
collection of ,apontes4 ,some of them   
may1 indeed1 be concealed under other   
titles1 as1 for instance1 the piece1    
which ,calderon himself calls1 ,el      
,tuzani de la ,alpujarra1 is named in   
the collection1 ,amar despues de la     
,muerte4 ,others are unquestionably     
omitted1 for instance1 a ,don ,quixote1 
which ,i should be particularly desirous
 of seeing4 ,we may infer from many     
circumstances that ,calderon had a great
 respect for ,cervantes4 ,the collection
 of the ,autos sacramentales contains   
only seventy-two1 and of these several  
are not mentioned by ,calderon4 ,and yet
 he lays the greatest stress on these2  
wholly devoted to religion1 he had      
become in his age more indifferent      
towards the temporal plays of his muse1 
although he did not reject them1 and    
still continued to add to the number4   
,it might well be with him as with an   

excessively wealthy man1 who1 in a      
general computation1 is apt to forget   
many of the items of his capital4 ,i    
have never yet been able to see any of  
the ,saynetes of ,calderon2 ,i cannot   
even find an account whether or not they
 have been ever collected and printed4  
besides a number of poems which were not
 dramatical4 ,as from his fourteenth to 
his eighty-first year1 that in which he 
died1 he continued to produce dramatic  
works1 they spread over a great space1  
and we may therefore suppose that he did
 not write with the same haste as ,lope2
 he had sufficient leisure to consider  
his plans maturely1 which1 without      
doubt1 he has done4 ,in the execution1  
he could not fail from his extensive    
practice to acquire great readiness4    
,in this almost incalculable exuberance 
of production1 we find nothing thrown   
out at random2 all is finished in       
masterly perfection1 agreeably to       
established and consistent principles1  
and with the most profound artistic     

views4 ,this cannot be denied even by   
those who would confound the pure and   
high style of the romantic drama with   
mannerism1 and consider these bold      
flights of poetry1 on the extreme       
boundaries of the conceivable1 as       
aberrations in art4 ,for ,calderon has  
every where converted that into matter  
what passed with his predecessors for   
form2--nothing less than the noblest and
 most exquisite excellence could satisfy
 him4 ,and this is why he repeats       
himself in many expressions1 images1    
comparisons1 nay1 even in many plays of 
situation2 for he was too rich to be    
under the necessity of borrowing from   
himself1 much less from others4 ,the    
effect on the stage is with ,calderon   
the first and last thing2 but this      
consideration1 which is generally felt  
by others as a restraint1 is with him a 
positive end4 ,i know of no dramatist   
equally skilled in converting effect    
into poetry1 who is at once so sensibly 
vigorous and so ethereal4  ,his dramas  

divide themselves into four principal   
classes3 compositions on sacred subjects
 taken from scripture and legends2      
historical2 mythological1 or founded    
upon other fictitious materials2 and    
finally1 pictures of social life in     
modern manners4  ,the pieces founded on 
the history of his own country are      
historical only in the more limited     
acceptation4 ,the earlier periods of    
,spanish history have often been felt   
and portrayed by ,calderon with the     
greatest truth2 but1 in general1 he had 
too decided1 ,i might almost say1 too   
burning a predilection for his own      
nation1 to enter into the peculiarities 
of another2 at best he could have       
portrayed what verges towards the sun1  
the ,south and the ,east2 but classical 
antiquity1 as well as the ,north of     
,europe1 were altogether foreign to his 
conception4 ,materials of this          
description he has therefore taken in a 
perfectly fanciful sense3 generally the 
,greek mythology became in his hands a  

delightful tale1 and the ,roman history 
a majestic hyperbole4  ,his sacred      
compositions must1 however1 in some     
degree1 be ranked as historical2 for    
although surrounded with rich fiction1  
as is always the case in ,calderon1 they
 nevertheless in general express the    
character of ,biblical or legendary     
story with great fidelity4 ,they are    
distinguished1 however1 from the other  
historical pieces by the frequent       
prominency of a significant allegory1   
and by the religious enthusiasm with    
which the poet1 in the spiritual acts   
designed for the celebration of the     
festival of ,corpus ,christi1 the ,autos
 exhibits the universe as it were1 under
 an allegorical representation in the   
purple flames of love4 ,in this last    
class he was most admired by his        
contemporaries1 and here also he himself
 set the highest value on his labours4  
,but without having read1 at least1 one 
of them in a truly poetical translation1
 my auditors could not form the         

slightest idea of them2 while the due   
consideration of these ,autos would     
demand a difficult investigation into   
the admissibility of allegory into      
dramatical composition4 ,i shall        
therefore confine myself to those of his
 dramas which are no allegorical4 ,the  
characterization of these ,i shall be   
very far from exhausting2 ,i can merely 
exhibit a few of their more general     
features4  ,of the great multitude of   
ingenious and acute writers1 who were   
then tempted by the dazzling splendour  
of the theatrical career to write for   
the stage1 the greater part were mere   
imitators of ,calderon2 a few only      
deserve to be named along with him1 as  
,don ,agustin ,moreto1 ,don ,franzisco  
de ,roxas1 ,don ,antonio de ,solis1 the 
acute and eloquent historian of the     
conquest of ,mexico1 c4 ,the dramatic   
literature of the ,spaniards can even   
boast of a royal poet1 ,philip ,,iv41   
the great patron and admirer ,footnote3 
,this monarch seems1 in reality1 to have

 had a relish for the peculiar          
excellence of his favourite poet1 whom  
he considered as the brightest ornament 
of his court4 ,he was so prepossessed in
 favour of the national drama1 that he  
forbade the introduction into ,spain of 
the ,italian opera1 which was then in   
general favour at the different         
,european courts3 an example which      
deserves to be held up to the ,german   
,princes1 who have hitherto1 from       
indifference towards every thing        
national1 and partiality for every thing
 foreign1 done all in their power to    
discourage the ,german poets4 of        
,calderon1 to whom several anonymous    
pieces1 with the epigraph de un ingenio 
de esta corte1 are ascribed4 ,all the   
writers of that day wrote in a kindred  
spirit2 they formed a true school of    
art4 ,many of them have peculiar        
excellences1 but ,calderon in boldness1 
fulness1 and profundity1 soars beyond   
them all2 in him the romantic drama of  
the ,spaniards attained the summit of   

perfection4  ,we shall endeavour to give
 a feeble idea of the spirit and form of
 these compositions1 which differ so    
widely from every other ,european       
production4 ,for this purpose1 however1 
we must enter in some measure into the  
character of the ,spanish poetry in     
general1 and those historical           
circumstances by which it has been      
determined4  ,the beginnings of the     
,spanish poetry are extremely simple3   
its two fundamental forms were the      
romaunt and the song1 and in these      
original national melodies we everywhere
 fancy we hear the accompaniment of the 
guitar4 ,the romaunt1 which is half     
,arabian in its origin1 was at first a  
simple heroic tale2 afterwards it became
 a very artificial species1 adapted to  
various uses1 but in which the          
picturesque ingredient always           
predominated even to the most brilliant 
luxuriance of colouring4 ,the song      
again1 almost destitute of imagery1     
expressed tender feelings in ingenious  

turns2 it extends its sportiveness to   
the very limits where the self-         
meditation1 which endeavours to         
transfuse an inexpressible disposition  
of mind into thought1 wings again the   
thought to dreamlike intimations4 ,the  
forms of the song were diversified by   
the introduction into poetry of what in 
music is effected by variation4 ,the    
rich properties of the ,spanish language
 however could not fully develop        
themselves in these species of poetry1  
which were rather tender and infantine  
than elevated4 ,hence towards the       
beginning of the sixteenth century they 
adapted the more comprehensive forms of 
,italian poetry1 ,ottave ,terzine1      
,canzoni1 ,sonetti2 and the ,castilian  
language1 the proudest daughter of the  
,latin1 was then first enabled to       
display her whole power in dignity1     
beautiful boldness1 and splendour of    
imagery4 ,the ,spanish with its guttural
 sounds1 and frequent termination with  
consonants1 is less soft than the       

,italian2 but its tones are1 if         
possible1 more fuller and deeper1 and   
fill the ear with a pure metallic       
resonance4 ,it had not altogether lost  
the rough strength and heartiness of the
 ,gothic1 when ,oriental intermixtures  
gave it a wonderful degree of sublimity1
 and elevated its poetry1 intoxicated as
 it were with aromatic fragrances1 far  
above all the scrupulous moderation of  
the sober ,west4  ,the stream of        
poetical inspiration1 swelled by every  
proud consciousness1 increased with the 
growing fame in arms of this once so    
free and heroic nation4 ,the ,spaniards 
played a glorious part in the events of 
the middle ages1 a part but too much    
forgotten by the envious ingratitude of 
modern times4 ,they were then the       
forlorn out-posts of ,europe2 they lay  
on their ,pyrenean peninsula as in a    
camp1 exposed without foreign assistance
 to the incessant eruptions of the      
,arabians1 but always ready for renewed 
conflicts4 ,the founding of their       

,christian kingdom1 through centuries of
 conflicts1 from the time when the      
descendants of the ,goths driven before 
the ,moors into the mountains of the    
,north first left their protecting      
shelter for the war of freedom and      
independence1 down to the complete      
expulsion of the ,arabian invaders1 was 
one long adventure of chivalry2 nay1 the
 preservation of ,christianity itself in
 the face of so powerful a foe seems the
 wondrous work of more than mortal      
guidance4 ,accustomed to fight at the   
same time for liberty and religion1 the 
,spaniard clung to his faith with a     
fiery zeal1 as an acquisition purchased 
by the costly expenditure of noble      
blood4 ,these consolations of a holy    
worship were to him the rewards of      
heroic exertion2 in every church he saw 
as it were a trophy of his forefathers' 
bravery4 ,ready to shed the last drop of
 his blood in the cause of his ,god and 
his ,king2 tenderly sensitive of his    
honour2 proud1 yet humble in the        

presence of all that is sacred and holy2
 serious1 temperate1 and modest was the 
old ,castilian3 and yet forsooth some   
are found to scoff at a noble and a     
loyal race because even at the plough   
they were lothe to lay aside the beloved
 sword1 the instrument of their high    
vocation of patriotism and liberty4     
,this love of war1 and spirit of        
enterprise1 which so many circumstances 
had thus served to keep alive among     
their subjects1 the monarchs of ,spain  
made use of1 at the close of the        
fifteenth and throughout the sixteenth  
century1 in an attempt to obtain        
universal monarchy2 and while the arms  
of the ,spaniard were thus employed to  
effect the subjugation of other nations1
 he was himself deprived of his own     
political freedom4 ,the faithless and   
tyrannical policy of ,philip ,,ii4 has  
unmeritedly drawn down on the whole     
nation the hatred of foreigners4 ,in    
,italy1 ,macchiavelism was not confined 
to the ,princes and ,republican leaders2

 it was the universal character2 all    
ranks were infected with the same love  
of artifice and fraud4 ,but in ,spain it
 must be laid to the charge of the      
,government alone1 and even the         
religious persecutions in that country  
seldom or never proceeded from the      
outbreakings of a universal popular     
fury4 ,the ,spaniard never presumed to  
question the conduct of his spiritual   
and worldly superiors1 and carried on   
their wars of aggression and ambition   
with the same fidelity and bravery which
 he had formerly displayed in his own   
wars of self-defence and patriotism4    
,personal glory1 and a mistaken         
religious zeal1 blinded him with respect
 to the justice of his cause4           
,enterprises before unexampled1 were    
eagerly undertaken1 and successfully    
achieved2 a newly discovered world      
beyond the ocean was conquered by a     
handful of bold adventurers2 individual 
instances of cruelty and avarice may    
have stained the splendour of resolute  

heroism1 but the mass of the nation was 
uninfected by its contagion4 ,nowhere   
did the spirit of chivalry so long      
outlive its political existence as in   
,spain4 ,long after the internal        
prosperity1 as well as the foreign      
influence of the nation1 had fatally    
declined under the ruinous errors of the
 ,second ,philip1 this spirit propagated
 itself even to the most flourishing    
period of their literature1 and plainly 
imprinted upon it an indelible stamp4   
,here1 in all their dazzling features1  
but associated with far higher mental   
culture1 the middle ages were1 as it    
were1 renewed--those times when princes 
and nobles loved to indite the lays of  
love and bravery1 and when1 with hearts 
devoted equally to their lady-love and  
the ,holy ,sepulchre1 knights joyfully  
exposed themselves to the dangers and   
hardships of pilgrimage to the ,land of 
,promise1 and when even a lion-hearted  
king touched the lute to tender sounds  
of amorous lamentation4 ,the poets of   

,spain were not1 as in most other       
countries of ,europe1 courtiers or      
scholars1 or engaged in some peaceful   
art or other2 of noble birth for the    
most part1 they also led a warlike life4
 ,the union of the sword and the pen1   
and the exercise of arms and the nobler 
mental arts1 was their watch-word4      
,garcilaso1 one of the founders of      
,spanish poetry under ,charles ,v41 was 
a descendant of the ,yncas of ,peru1 and
 in ,africa1 still accompanied by his   
agreeable muse1 fell before the walls of
 ,tunis3 ,camons1 the ,portuguese1      
sailed as a soldier to the remotest     
,indies1 in the track of the glorious   
,adventurer whose discoveries he        
celebrated3 ,don ,alonso de ,ercilla    
composed his ,araucana in the midst of  
warfare with revolted savages1 in a tent
 at the foot of the ,cordilleras1 or in 
wildernesses yet untrodden by men1 or in
 a storm-tossed vessel on the restless  
ocean2 ,cervantes purchased1 with the   
loss of an arm1 and a long slavery in   

,algiers1 the honour of having fought1  
as a common soldier1 in the battle of   
,lepanto1 under the illustrious ,john of
 ,austria2 ,lope de ,vega1 among other  
adventures1 survived the misfortunes of 
the ,invincible ,armada2 ,calderon      
served several campaigns in ,flanders   
and in ,italy1 and discharged the       
warlike duties of a knight of ,santiago 
until he entered holy orders1 and thus  
gave external evidence that religion was
 the ruling motive of his life4  ,if a  
feeling of religion1 a loyal heroism1   
honour1 and love1 be the foundation of  
romantic poetry1 it could not fail to   
attain to its highest development in    
,spain1 where its birth and growth were 
cherished by the most friendly auspices4
 ,the fancy of the ,spaniards1 like     
their active powers1 was bold and       
venturesome2 no mental adventure seemed 
too hazardous for it to essay4 ,the     
popular predilection for surpassing     
marvels had already shown itself in its 
chivalrous romaunts4 ,and so they wished

 also to see the wonderful on the stage2
 when1 therefore1 their poets1 standing 
on the lofty eminence of a highly       
polished state of art and society1 gave 
it the requisite form1 breathed into it 
a musical soul1 and refined its         
beautiful hues and fragrance from all   
corporeal grossness1 there arose1 from  
the very contrast of the matter and the 
form1 an irresistible fascination4 ,amid
 the harmony of the most varied metre1  
the elegance of fanciful allusions1 and 
that splendour of imagery and simile    
which no other language than their own  
could hope to furnish1 combined with    
inventions ever new1 and almost always  
pre-eminently ingenious1 the spectators 
perceived in imagination a faint        
refulgence of the former greatness of   
their nation which had measured the     
whole world with its victories4 ,the    
most distant zones were called upon to  
contribute1 for the gratification of the
 mother country1 the treasures of fancy 
as well as of nature1 and on the        

dominions of this poetry1 as on that of 
,charles ,v41 the sun may truly be said 
never to set4  ,even those plays of     
,calderon which1 cast in modern manners1
 descend the most to the tone of common 
life1 still fascinate us by a sort of   
fanciful magic1 and cannot be considered
 in the same light with the ordinary run
 of comedies4 ,of those of ,shakspeare1 
we have seen that they are always       
composed of two dissimilar elements3 the
 comic1 which1 in so far as comic       
imitation requires the observance of    
local conditions1 is true to ,english   
manners2 and the romantic1 which1 as the
 native soil was not sufficiently       
poetical for it1 is invariably          
transplanted to a foreign scene4 ,in    
,spain1 on the other hand1 the national 
costume of that day still admitted of an
 ideal exhibition4 ,this would not      
indeed have been possible1 had ,calderon
 introduced us into the interior of     
domestic life1 where want and habit     
generally reduce all things to every-day

 narrowness4 ,his comedies1 like those  
of the ancients1 end with marriages2 but
 how different is all that precedes6    
,with them the most immoral means are   
set in motion for the gratification of  
sensual passions and selfish views1     
human beings with their mental powers   
stand opposed to each other as mere     
physical beings1 endeavouring to spy out
 and to expose their mutual weaknesses4 
,calderon1 it is true1 also represents  
to us his principal characters of both  
sexes carried away by the first         
ebullitions of youth1 and in its        
unwavering pursuit of the honours and   
pleasures of life2 but the aim after    
which they strive1 and in the           
prosecution of which every thing else   
kicks the beam1 is never in their minds 
confounded with any other good4 ,honour1
 love1 and jealousy1 are uniformly the  
motives out of which1 by their dangerous
 but noble conflict1 the plot arises1   
and is not purposely complicated by     
knavish trickery and deception4 ,honour 

is always an ideal principle2 for it    
rests1 as ,i have elsewhere shown1 on   
that higher morality which consecrates  
principles without regard to            
consequences4 ,it may sink down to a    
mere conventional observance of social  
opinions or prejudices1 to a mere       
instrument of vanity1 but even when so  
disfigured we may still recognize in it 
some faint feature of a sublime idea4 ,i
 know no apter symbol of tender         
sensibility of honour as portrayed by   
,calderon1 than the fable of the ermine1
 which is said to prize so highly the   
whiteness of its fur1 that rather than  
stain it in flight1 it at once yields   
itself up to the hunters and death4     
,this sense of honour is equally        
powerful in the female characters2 it   
rules over love1 which is only allowed a
 place beside it1 but not above it4     
,according to the sentiments of         
,calderon's dramas1 the honour of woman 
consists in loving only one man of pure 
and spotless honour1 and loving him with

 perfect purity1 free from all ambiguous
 homage which encroaches too closely on 
the severe dignity of woman4 ,love      
requires inviolable secrecy till a      
lawful union permits it to be publicly  
declared4 ,this secrecy secures it from 
the poisonous intermixture of vanity1   
which might plume itself with           
pretensions or boasts of a confessed    
preference2 it gives it the appearance  
of a vow1 which from its mystery is the 
more sacredly observed4 ,this morality  
does not1 it is true1 condemn cunning   
and dissimulation if employed in the    
cause of love1 and in so far as the     
rights of honour may be said to be      
infringed2 but nevertheless the most    
delicate consideration is observed in   
the conflict with other duties1-- with  
the obligations1 for instance1 of       
friendship4 ,moreover1 a power of       
jealousy1 always alive and often        
breaking out into fearful               
violence1--not1 like that of the ,east1 
a jealousy of possession1--but one      

watchful of the slightest emotions of   
the heart and its most imperceptible    
demonstrations serves to ennoble love1  
as this feeling1 whenever it is not     
absolutely exclusive1 ceases to be      
itself4 ,the perplexity to which the    
mental conflict of all these motives    
gives rise1 frequently ends in nothing1 
and in such cases the catastrophe is    
truly comic2 sometimes1 however1 it     
takes a tragic turn1 and then honour    
becomes a hostile destiny for all who   
cannot satisfy its requisitions without 
sacrificing either their happiness or   
their innocence4  ,these are the dramas 
of a higher kind1 which by foreigners   
are called ,pieces of ,intrigue1 but by 
,spaniards1 from the dress in which they
 are acted1 ,comedies of ,cloak and     
,sword 7,comedias de ,capa y ,espada74  
,they have commonly no other burlesque  
part than that of the merry valet1 known
 by the name of the ,gracioso4 ,this    
valet serves chiefly to parody the ideal
 motives from which his master acts1 and

 this he frequently does with much wit  
and grace4 ,seldom is he with his       
artifices employed as an efficient lever
 in establishing the intrigue1 in which 
we rather admire the wit of accident    
than of contrivance4 ,other pieces are  
called ,comedias de figuron2 all the    
figures1 with one exception1 are usually
 the same as those in the former class1 
and this one is always drawn in         
caricature1 and occupies a prominent    
place in the composition4 ,to many of   
,calderon's dramas we cannot refuse the 
name of pieces of character1 although we
 cannot look for very delicate          
characterization from the poets of a    
nation in which vehemence of passion and
 exaltation of fancy neither leave      
sufficient leisure nor sufficient       
coolness for prying observation4        
,another class of his pieces is called  
by ,calderon himself festal dramas      
7fiestas74 ,they were destined for      
representation at court on solemn       
occasions2 and though they require the  

theatrical pomp of frequent change of   
decoration and visible wonders1 and     
though music also is often introduced   
into them1 still we may call them       
poetical operas1 that is1 dramas which1 
by the mere splendour of poetry1 perform
 what in the opera can only be attained 
by the machinery1 the music1 and the    
dancing4 ,here the poet gives himself   
wholly up to the boldest flights of     
fancy1 and his creations hardly seem to 
touch the earth4  ,the mind of          
,calderon1 however1 is most distinctly  
expressed in the pieces on religious    
subjects4 ,love he paints merely in its 
most general features2 he but speaks her
 technical poetical language4 ,religion 
is his peculiar love1 the heart of his  
heart4 ,for religion alone he excites   
the most overpowering emotions1 which   
penetrate into the inmost recesses of   
the soul4 ,he did not wish1 it would    
seem1 to do the same for mere worldly   
events4 ,however turbid they may be in  
themselves to him1 such is the religious

 medium through which he views them1    
they are all cleared up and perfectly   
bright4 ,blessed man6 he had escaped    
from the wild labyrinths of doubt into  
the stronghold of belief2 from thence1  
with undisturbed tranquillity of soul1  
he beheld and portrayed the storms of   
the world2 to him human life was no     
longer a dark riddle4 ,even his tears   
reflect the image of heaven1 like       
dew-drops on a flower in the sun4 ,his  
poetry1 whatever its apparent object1 is
 a never-ending hymn of joy on the      
majesty of the creation2 he celebrates  
the productions of nature and human art 
with an astonishment always joyful and  
always new1 as if he saw them for the   
first time in an unworn festal          
splendour4 ,it is the first awaking of  
,adam1 and an eloquence withal1 a skill 
of expression1 and a thorough insight   
into the most mysterious affinities of  
nature1 such as high mental culture and 
mature contemplation can alone bestow4  
,when he compares the most remote       

objects1 the greatest and the smallest1 
stars and flowers1 the sense of all his 
metaphors is the mutual attraction      
subsisting between created things by    
virtue of their common origin1 and this 
delightful harmony and unity of the     
world again is merely a refulgence of   
the eternal all-embracing love4         
,calderon was still flourishing at the  
time when other countries of ,europe    
began to manifest a strong inclination  
for that mannerism of taste in the arts1
 and those prosaic views in literature1 
which in the eighteenth century obtained
 such universal dominion4 ,he is        
consequently to be considered as the    
last summit of romantic poetry4 ,all its
 magnificence is lavished in his        
writings1 as in fireworks the most      
brilliant and rarest combinations of    
colours1 the most dazzling of fiery     
showers and circles are usually reserved
 for the last explosion4  ,the ,spanish 
theatre continued for nearly a century  
after ,calderon to be cultivated in the 

same spirit4 ,all1 however1 that was    
produced in that period is but an echo  
of previous productions1 and nothing new
 and truly peculiar appeared such as    
deserves to be named after ,calderon4   
,after him a great barrenness is        
perceptible4 ,now and then attempts were
 made to produce regular tragedies1 that
 is to say1 after the ,french model4    
,even the declamatory drama of ,diderot 
found imitators4 ,i remember reading a  
,spanish play1 which had for its object 
the abolition of the torture4 ,the      
exhilaration to be expected from such a 
work may be easily conceived4 ,a few    
,spaniards1 apostates from the old      
national taste1 extol highly the        
prosaical and moral dramas of ,moratin2 
but we see no reason for seeking in     
,spain what we have as good1 or1 more   
correctly speaking1 equally bad at home4
 ,the theatrical audience has for the   
most part preserved itself tolerably    
exempt from all such foreign influences2
 a few years ago when a bel esprit      

undertook to reduce a justly admired    
piece of ,moreto 7,el ,pareceido en la  
,corte17 to a conformity with the three 
unities1 the pit at ,madrid were thrown 
into such a commotion that the players  
could only appease them by announcing   
the piece for the next day in its       
genuine shape4  ,when in any country    
external circumstances1 such1 for       
instance1 as the influence of the       
clergy1 the oppression of the           
censorship1 and even the jealous        
vigilance of the people in the          
maintenance of their old national       
customs1 oppose the introduction of what
 in neighbouring states passes for a    
progress in mental culture1 it          
frequently happens that clever          
description of heads will feel an undue 
longing for the forbidden fruit1 and    
first begin to admire some artistic     
depravity1 when it has elsewhere ceased 
to be fashionable4 ,in particular ages  
certain mental maladies are so          
universally epidemic that a nation can  

never be secure from infection till it  
has been innoculated with it4 ,with     
respect1 however1 to the fatal          
enlightenment of the last generation1   
the ,spaniards it would appear have come
 off with the chicken-pox1 while in the 
features of other nations the           
disfiguring variolous scars are but too 
visible4 ,living nearly in an insular   
situation1 ,spaniards have slept through
 the eighteenth century1 and how in the 
main could they have applied their time 
better8 ,should the ,spanish poetry ever
 again awake in old ,europe1 or in the  
,new ,world1 it would certainly have a  
step to make1 from instinct to          
consciousness4 ,what the ,spaniards have
 hitherto loved from innate inclination1
 they must learn to reverence on clear  
principles1 and1 undismayed at the      
criticism to which it has in the mean   
time been exposed1 proceed to fresh     
creations in the spirit of their        
greatest poets4     ,,lecture ,,xxx4    
,origin of the ,german ,theatre--,hans  

,sachs--,gryphius--,the age of          
,gottsched-- ,wretched ,imitation of the
 ,french--,lessing1 ,goethe1 and        
,schiller--,review of their             
,works--,their influence on ,chivalrous 
,dramas1 ,affecting ,dramas1 and ,family
 ,pictures--,prospect for ,futurity4    
,in its cultivated state1 the ,german   
theatre is much younger than any of     
those of which we hare already spoken1  
and we are not therefore to wonder if   
the store of our literature in valuable 
original works1 in this department1 is  
also much more scanty4  ,little more    
than half a century ago1 ,german        
literature was in point of talent at the
 very lowest ebb2 at that time1 however1
 greater exertions first began to be    
made1 and the ,germans have since       
advanced with gigantic strides4 ,and if 
,dramatic ,art has not been cultivated  
with the same success1 and ,i may add   
with the same zeal1 as other branches1  
the cause must perhaps be attributed to 
a number of unfavourable circumstances  

rather than to any want of talents4     
,the rude beginnings of the stage are   
with us as old as with other countries  
,footnote3 ,the first mention of the    
mysteries or religious representations  
in ,germany1 with which ,i am           
acquainted1 is to be found in the       
,eulenspiegel4 ,in the #acth ,history1  
we may see this merry1 but somewhat     
disgusting trick1 of the celebrated     
buffoon3 ,how ,eulenspiegel made a play 
in the ,easter fair1 in which the priest
 and his maid-servant fought with the   
boors4 ,eulenspiegel is stated to have  
lived towards the middle of the         
fourteenth century1 but the book cannot 
be placed farther back than the         
beginning of the fifteenth44 ,the oldest
 drama which we have in manuscript is   
the production of one ,hans ,rosenpluet1
 a native of ,nuremberg1 about the      
middle of the fifteenth century4 ,he was
 followed by two fruitful writers born  
in the same imperial city1 ,hans ,sachs 
and ,ayrer4 ,among the works of ,hans   

,sachs we find1 besides merry carnival  
plays1 a great multitude of tragedies1  
comedies1 histories both spiritual and  
temporal1 where the prologue and        
epilogue are always spoken by the       
herald4 ,the latter1 it appears1 were   
all acted without any theatrical        
apparatus1 not by players1 but by       
respectable citizens1 as an allowable   
relaxation for the mind4 ,the carnival  
plays are somewhat coarse1 but not      
unfrequently extremely droll1 as the    
jokes in general are2 they often run out
 into the wildest farce1 and1 inspired  
by mirth and drollery1 leave far behind 
the narrow bounds of the world of       
reality4 ,in all these plays the        
composition is respectable1 and without 
round-about goes at once to the point3  
all the characters1 from ,god the       
,father downwards1 state at once in the 
clearest terms what they have at heart1 
and the reasons which have caused them  
to make their appearance2 they resemble 
those figures in old pictures who have  

written labels placed in their mouths1  
to aid the defective expression of the  
attitudes4 ,in form they approach most  
nearly to what was elsewhere called     
,moralities2 allegorical personages are 
frequent in them4 ,these sketches of a  
dramatic art yet in its infancy1 are    
feebly but not falsely drawn2 and if    
only we had continued to proceed in the 
same path1 we should have produced      
something better and more characteristic
 than the fruits of the seventeenth     
century4  ,in the first half of this    
century1 poetry left the sphere of      
common life1 to which it had so long    
been confined1 and fell into the hands  
of the learned4 ,opiz1 who may be       
considered as the founder of its modern 
form1 translated several tragedies from 
the ancients into verse1 and composed   
pastoral operas after the manner of the 
,italians2 but ,i know not whether he   
wrote anything expressly for the stage4 
,he was followed by ,andreas ,gryphius1 
who may be styled our first dramatic    

writer4 ,he possessed a certain extent  
of erudition in his particular          
department1 as is proved by several of  
his imitations and translations2 a piece
 from the ,french1 one from the         
,italian1 a tragedy from the ,flemish of
 ,vondel2 lastly1 a farce called ,peter 
,squenz1 an extension of the burlesque  
tragedy of ,pyramus and ,thisbe1 in ,the
 ,midsummer ,night's ,dream of          
,shakspeare4 ,the latter was then almost
 unknown beyond his own island2 the     
learned ,morhof1 who wrote in the last  
half of the seventeenth century1        
confesses that he had never seen        
,shakspeare's works1 though he was very 
well acquainted with ,ben ,jonson4 ,even
 about the middle of the last century1 a
 writer of repute in his days1 and not  
without merit1 has in one of his        
treatises instituted a comparison       
between ,shakspeare and ,andreas        
,gryphius1 the whole resemblance        
consisting in this1 that ,gryphius1 like
 ,shakspeare1 was also fond of calling  

up the spirits of the departed4 ,he     
seems rather to have had ,vondel1 the   
,fleming1 before his eyes1 a writer     
still highly celebrated by his          
countrymen1 and universally called by   
them1 the great ,vondel1 while ,gryphius
 himself has been consigned to oblivion4
 ,unfortunately the metre in ,gryphius's
 plays is the ,alexandrine2 the form1   
however1 is not so confined as that of  
the ,french at an after period2 the     
scene sometimes changes1 and the        
interludes1 partly musical1 partly      
allegorical1 bear some resemblance to   
the ,english masques4 ,in other         
respects1 ,gryphius possessed little    
theatrical skill1 and ,i do not even    
know if his pieces were ever actually   
brought out on the stage4 ,the tragedies
 of ,lohenstein1 who in his day may be  
styled the ,marino of our literature1 in
 their structure resemble those of      
,gryphius2 but1 not to mention their    
other faults1 they are of such an       
immeasurable length as to set all ideas 

of representation at defiance4  ,the    
pitiful condition of the theatre in     
,germany at the end of the seventeenth  
and during the first third part of the  
eighteenth century1 wherever there was  
any other stage than that of            
puppet-shows and mountebanks1           
corresponded exactly to that of the     
other branches of our literature4 ,we   
have a standard for this wretchedness1  
in the fact that ,gottsched actually    
once passed for the restorer of our     
literature2 ,gottsched1 whose writings  
resemble the watery beverage1 which was 
then usually recommended to convalescent
 patients1 from an idea that they could 
bear nothing stronger1 which1 however1  
did but still more enfeeble their       
stomachs4 ,gottsched1 among his other   
labours1 composed a great deal for the  
theatre2 connected with a certain ,madam
 ,neuber1 who was at the head of a      
company of players in ,leipsic1 he      
discarded ,punch 7,hanswurst71 whom they
 buried solemnly with great triumph4 ,i 

can easily conceive that the            
extemporaneous part of ,punch1 of which 
we may even yet form some notion from   
the puppet-shows1 was not always very   
skilfully filled up1 and that many      
platitudes were occasionally uttered by 
him2 but still1 on the whole1 ,punch had
 certainly more sense in his little     
finger than ,gottsched in his whole     
body4 ,punch1 as an allegorical         
personage1 is immortal2 and however     
strong the belief in his death may be1  
in some grave office-bearer or other he 
still pops up unexpectedly upon us      
almost every day4  ,gottsched and his   
school now inundated the ,german        
theatre1 which1 under the influence of  
these insipid and diffuse translations  
from the ,french1 was hereafter to      
become regular4 ,heads of a better      
description began to labour for the     
stage2 but1 instead of bringing forth   
really original works1 they contented   
themselves with producing wretched      
imitations2 and the reputation of the   

,french theatre was so great1 that from 
it was borrowed the most contemptible   
mannerism no less than the fruits of a  
better taste4 ,thus1 for example1       
,gellert still composed pastoral plays  
after bad ,french models1 in which      
shepherds and shepherdesses1 with rose- 
red and apple-green ribands1 uttered all
 manner of insipid compliments to one   
another4  ,besides the versions of      
,french comedies1 others1 translated    
from the ,danish of ,holberg1 were acted
 with great applause4 ,this writer has  
certainly great merit4 ,his pictures of 
manners possess great local truth2 his  
exhibitions of depravity1 folly1 and    
stupidity1 are searching and complete2  
in strength of comic motives and        
situations he is not defective2 only he 
does not show much invention in his     
intrigues4 ,the execution runs out too  
much into breadth4 ,the ,danes speak in 
the highest terms of the delicacy of his
 jokes in their own language2 but to our
 present taste the vulgarity of his tone

 is revolting1 though in the low sphere 
in which he moves1 and amidst incessant 
storms of cudgellings1 it may be natural
 enough4 ,attempts have lately been made
 to revive his works1 but seldom with   
any great success4 ,as his principal    
merit consists in his characterization1 
which certainly borders somewhat on     
caricature1 he requires good comic      
actors to represent him with advantage4 
,a few plays of that time1 in the       
manners of our own country1 by ,gellert 
and ,elias ,schlegel1 are not without   
merit2 only they have this error1 that  
in drawing folly and stupidity the same 
wearisomeness has crept into their      
picture which is inseparable from them  
in real life4  ,in tragedies1 properly  
so called1 after ,french models1 the    
first who were in any degree successful 
were ,elias ,schlegel1 and afterwards   
,cronegk and ,weisse4 ,i know not       
whether their labours1 if translated    
into good ,french verse1 would then     
appear as frigid as they now do in      

,german4 ,it is insufferable to us to   
read verses of an ell long1 in which the
 style seldom rises above watery prose2 
for a true poetic language was not      
formed in ,german until a subsequent    
period4 ,the ,alexandrine1 which in no  
language can be a good metre1 is doubly 
stiff and heavy in ours4 ,long after our
 poetry had again begun to take a higher
 flight1 ,gotter1 in his translation of 
,french tragedies1 made the last attempt
 to ennoble the ,alexandrine and procure
 its re-admission into ,tragedy1 and1 it
 appears to me1 proved by his example   
that we must for ever renounce the idea4
 ,it serves admirably1 however1 for a   
parody of the stilted style of false    
tragical emphasis2 its use1 too1 is much
 to be recommended in some kinds of     
,comedy1 especially in small            
afterpieces4 ,those earlier tragedies1  
after the ,french model1 notwithstanding
 the uncommon applause they met with in 
their day1 show how little hope there is
 of any progress of art in the way of   

slavish imitation4 ,even a form1 narrow 
in itself1 when it has been established 
under the influence of a national way of
 thinking1 has still some significance2 
but when it is blindly taken on trust in
 other countries1 it becomes altogether 
a ,spanish mantle4  ,thus bad           
translations of ,french comedies1 with  
pieces from ,holberg1 and afterwards    
from ,goldoni1 and with a few imitations
 of a public nature1 and without any    
peculiar spirit1 constituted the whole  
repertory of our stage1 till at last    
,lessing1 ,goethe1 and ,schiller1       
successively appeared and redeemed the  
,german theatre from its long-continued 
mediocrity4  ,lessing1 indeed1 in his   
early dramatic labours1 did homage to   
the spirit of his age4 ,his youthful    
comedies are rather insignificant2 they 
do not already announce the great mind  
who was afterwards to form an epoch in  
so many departments of literature4 ,he  
sketched several tragedies after the    
,french rules1 and executed several     

scenes in ,alexandrines1 but has        
succeeded with none3 it would appear    
that he had not the requisite facility  
for so difficult a metre4 ,even his     
,miss ,sara ,sampson is a familiar      
tragedy in the lachrymose and creeping  
style1 in which we evidently see that he
 had ,george ,barnwell before his eyes  
as a model4 ,in the year #agfg1 his     
connexion with a company of actors in   
,hamburgh1 and the editorship of a      
periodical paper dedicated to theatrical
 criticism1 gave him an opportunity of  
considering more closely into the nature
 and requisitions of theatrical         
composition4 ,in this paper he displayed
 much wit and acuteness2 his bold1 nay1 
7considering the opinions then          
prevalent17 his hazardous attacks were  
especially successful in overthrowing   
the usurpation of ,french taste in      
,tragedy4 ,with such success were his   
labours attended1 that1 shortly after   
the publication of his ,dramaturgie1    
translations of ,french tragedies1 and  

,german tragedies modelled after them1  
disappeared altogether from the stage4  
,he was the first who spoke with warmth 
of ,shakspeare1 and paved the way for   
his reception in ,germany4 ,but his     
lingering faith in ,aristotle1 with the 
influence which ,diderot's writings had 
had on him1 produced a strange compound 
in his theory of the dramatic art4 ,he  
did not understand the rights of        
poetical imitation1 and demanded not    
only in dialogue1 but everywhere else   
also1 a naked copy of nature1 just as if
 this were in general allowable1 or even
 possible in the fine arts4 ,his attack 
on the ,alexandrine was just1 but1 on   
the other hand1 he wished to1 and was   
only too successful in abolishing all   
versification3 for it is to this that we
 must impute the incredible deficiency  
of our actors in getting by heart and   
delivering verse4 ,even yet they cannot 
habituate themselves to it4 ,he was thus
 also indirectly the cause of the       
insipid affectation of nature of our    

,dramatic writers1 which a general use  
of versification would1 in some degree1 
have restrained4  ,lessing1 by his own  
confession1 was no poet1 and the few    
dramas which he produced in his riper   
years were the slow result of great     
labour4 ,minna van ,barnhelm is a true  
comedy of the refined class2 in point of
 form it holds a middle place between   
the ,french and ,english style2 the     
spirit of the invention1 however1 and   
the social tone portrayed in it1 are    
peculiarly ,german4 ,every thing is even
 locally determined2 and the allusions  
to the memorable events of the ,seven   
,years ,war contributed not a little to 
the extraordinary success which this    
comedy obtained at the time4 ,in the    
serious part the expression of feeling  
is not free from affectation1 and the   
difficulties of the two lovers are      
carried even to a painful height4 ,the  
comic secondary figures are drawn with  
much drollery and humour1 and bear a    
genuine ,german stamp4  ,emilia ,galotti

 was still more admired than ,minna von 
,barnhelm1 but hardly1 ,i think1 with   
justice4 ,its plan1 perhaps1 has been   
better considered1 and worked out with  
still greater diligence2 but ,minna von 
,barnhelm answers better to the genuine 
idea of ,comedy than ,emilia ,galotti to
 that of ,tragedy4 ,lessing's theory of 
the ,dramatic ,art would1 it is easily  
conceived1 have much less of prejudicial
 influence on a demi- prosaic species   
than upon one which must inevitably sink
 when it does not take the highest      
flight4 ,he was now too well acquainted 
with the world to fall again into the   
drawling1 lachrymose1 and sermonizing   
tone which prevails in his ,miss ,sara  
,sampson throughout4 ,on the other hand1
 his sound sense1 notwithstanding all   
his admiration of ,diderot1 preserved   
him from his declamatory and emphatical 
style1 which owes its chief effect to   
breaks and marks of interrogation4 ,but 
as in the dialogue he resolutely        
rejected all poetical elevation1 he did 

not escape this fault without falling   
into another4 ,he introduced into       
,tragedy the cool and close observation 
of ,comedy2 in ,emilia ,galotti the     
passions are rather acutely and wittily 
characterized than eloquently expressed4
 ,under a belief that the drama is most 
powerful when it exhibits faithful      
copies of what we know1 and comes       
nearest home to ourselves1 he has       
disguised1 under fictitious names1      
modern ,european circumstances1 and the 
manners of the day1 an event            
imperishably recorded in the history of 
the world1 a famous deed of the rough   
old ,roman virtue--the murder of        
,virginia by her father4 ,virginia is   
converted into a ,countess ,galotti1    
,virginius into ,count ,odoardo1 an     
,italian prince takes the place of      
,appius ,claudius1 and a chamberlain    
that of the unblushing minister of his  
lusts1 c4 ,it is not properly a familiar
 tragedy1 but a court tragedy in the    
conversational tone1 to which in some   

parts the sword of state and the hat    
under the arm as essentially belong as  
to many ,french tragedies4 ,lessing     
wished to transplant into the renownless
 circle of the principality of ,massa   
,carara the violent injustice of the    
,decemvir's inevitable tyranny2 but as  
by taking a few steps we can extricate  
ourselves from so petty a territory1 so1
 after a slight consideration1 we can   
easily escape from the assumption so    
laboriously planned by the poet2 on     
which1 however1 the necessity of the    
catastrophe wholly rests4 ,the visible  
care with which he has assigned a motive
 for every thing1 invites to a closer   
examination1 in which we are little     
likely to be interrupted by any of the  
magical illusions of imagination3 and in
 such examination the want of internal  
connectedness cannot escape detection1  
however much of thought and reflection  
the outward structure of a drama may    
display4  ,it is singular enough1 that  
of all the dramatical works of ,lessing1

 the last1 ,nathan der ,weise1 which he 
wrote when his zeal for the improvement 
of the ,german theatre had nearly       
cooled1 and1 as he says1 merely with a  
view to laugh at theologists1 should be 
the most conformable to the genuine     
rules of art4 ,a remarkable tale of     
,boccacio is wrought up with a number of
 inventions1 which1 however wonderful1  
are yet not improbable1 if the          
circumstances of the times are          
considered2 the fictitious persons are  
grouped round a real and famous         
character1 the great ,saladin1 who is   
drawn with historical truth2 the        
crusades in the background1 the scene at
 ,jerusalem1 the meeting of persons of  
various nations and religions on this   
,oriental soil1--all this gives to the  
work a romantic air1 and with the       
thoughts1 foreign to the age in         
question1 which for the sake of his     
philosophical views the poet has        
interspersed1 forms a contrast somewhat 
hazardous indeed1 but yet exceedingly   

attractive4 ,the form is freer and more 
comprehensive than in ,lessing's other  
pieces2 it is very nearly that of a     
drama of ,shakspeare4 ,he has also      
returned here to the use of             
versification1 which he had formerly    
rejected2 not indeed of the             
,alexandrine1 for the discarding of     
which from the serious drama we are in  
every respect indebted to him1 but the  
rhymeless ,iambic4 ,the verses in       
,nathan are indeed often harsh and      
carelessly laboured1 but truly          
dialogical2 and the advantageous        
influence of versification becomes at   
once apparent upon comparing the tone of
 the present piece with the prose of the
 others4 ,had not the development of the
 truths which ,lessing had particularly 
at heart demanded so much of repose1 had
 there been more of rapid motion in the 
action1 the piece would certainly have  
pleased also on the stage4 ,that        
,lessing1 with all his independence of  
mind1 was still in his dramatical       

principles influenced in some measure by
 the general inclination and tastes of  
his age1 ,i infer from this1 that the   
imitators of ,nathan were very few as   
compared with those of ,emilia ,galotti4
 ,among the striking imitations of the  
latter style1 ,i will merely mention the
 ,julius van ,tarent4  ,engel must be   
regarded as a disciple of ,lessing4 ,his
 small after- pieces in the manner of   
,lessing are perfectly insignificant2   
but his treatise on imitation 7,mimik7  
shows the point to which the theory of  
his master leads4 ,this book contains   
many useful observations on the first   
elements of the language of gesture3 the
 grand error of the author is1 that he  
considered it a complete system of      
mimicry or imitation1 though it only    
treats of the expression of the         
passions1 and does not contain a        
syllable on the subject of exhibition of
 character4 ,moreover1 in his histrionic
 art he has not given a place to the    
ideas of tragic comic2 and it may easily

 be supposed that he rejects ideality of
 every kind ,footnote3 ,among other     
strange things ,engel says1 that as the 
language of ,euripides1 the latest1 and 
in his opinion the most perfect of the  
,greek tragedians has less elevation    
than that of his predecessors1 it is    
probable that1 had the ,greeks carried  
,tragedy to further perfection1 they    
would have proceeded a step farther3 the
 next step forward would have been to   
discard verse altogether4 ,so totally   
ignorant was ,engel of the spirit of    
,grecian art4 ,this approach to the tone
 of common life1 which certainly may be 
traced in ,euripides1 is the very       
indication of the decline and impending 
fall of ,tragedy3 but even in ,comedy   
the ,greeks never could bring themselves
 to make use of prose41 and merely      
requires a bare copy of nature4  ,the   
nearer ,i draw to the present times the 
more ,i wish to be general in my        
observations1 and to avoid entering into
 a minute criticism of works of living  

writers with part of whom ,i have been1 
or still am1 in relations of personal   
friendship or hostility4 ,of the        
dramatic career1 however1 of ,goethe and
 ,schiller1 two writers of whom our     
nation is justly proud1 and whose       
intimate society has frequently enabled 
me to correct and enlarge my own ideas  
of art1 ,i may speak with the frankness 
that is worthy of their great and       
disinterested labours4 ,the errors      
which1 under the influence of erroneous 
principles1 they at first gave rise to1 
are either already1 or soon will be1    
sunk in oblivion1 even because from     
their very mistakes they contrived to   
advance towards greater purity and      
perfectness2 their works will live1 and 
in them1 to say the least1 we have the  
foundation of a dramatic school at once 
essentially ,german1 and governed by    
genuine principles of art4  ,scarcely   
had ,goethe1 in his ,werther1 published 
as it were a declaration of the rights  
of feeling in opposition to the tyranny 

of social relations1 when1 by the       
example which he set in ,gtz von        
,berlichingen1 he protested against the 
arbitrary rules which had hitherto      
fettered dramatic poetry4 ,in this play 
we see not an imitation of ,shakspeare1 
but the inspiration excited in a kindred
 mind by a creative genius4 ,in the     
dialogue1 he put in practice ,lessing's 
principles of nature1 only with greater 
boldness2 for in it he rejected not only
 versification and all embellishments1  
but also disregarded the laws of written
 language to a degree of licence which  
had never been ventured upon before4 ,he
 avoided all poetical circumlocutions2  
the picture was to be the very thing    
itself2 and thus he sounded in our ears 
the tone of a remote age in a degree    
illusory enough for those at least who  
had never learned from historical       
monuments the very language in which our
 ancestors themselves spoke4 ,most      
movingly has he expressed the old       
,german cordiality3 the situations which

 are sketched with a few rapid strokes  
are irresistibly powerful2 the whole    
conveys a great historical meaning1 for 
it represents the conflict between a    
departing and a coming age2 between a   
century of rude but vigorous            
independence1 and one of political      
tameness4 ,in this composition the poet 
never seems to have had an eye to its   
representation on the stage2 rather does
 he appear1 in his youthful arrogance1  
to have scorned it for its              
insufficiency4  ,it seems1 in general1  
to have been the grand object of ,goethe
 to express his genius in his works1 and
 to give new poetical animation to his  
age2 as to form1 he was indifferent     
about it1 though1 for the most part1 he 
preferred the dramatic4 ,at the same    
time he was a warm friend of the        
theatre1 and sometimes condescended even
 to comply with its demands as settled  
by custom and the existing taste2 as1   
for instance1 in his ,clavigo1 a        
familiar tragedy in ,lessing's manner4  

,besides other defects of this piece1   
the fifth act does not correspond with  
the rest4 ,in the four first acts       
,goethe adhered pretty closely to the   
story of ,beaumarchais1 but he invented 
the catastrophe2 and when we observe    
that it strongly reminds the reader of  
,ophelia's burial1 and the meeting of   
,hamlet and ,laertes at her grave1 we   
have said enough to convey an idea how  
strong a contrast it forms to the tone  
and colouring of the rest4 ,in ,stella  
,goethe has taken nearly the same       
liberty with the story of ,count von    
,gleichen which ,lessing did with that  
of ,virginia1 but his labours were still
 more unsuccessful2 the trait of the    
times of the ,crusades on which he      
founded his play is affecting1          
true-hearted1 and even edifying2 but    
,stella can only flatter the            
sentimentality of superficial feeling4  
,at a later period he endeavoured to    
effect a reconciliation between his own 
views of art and the common dramatic    

forms1 even the very lowest1 in all of  
which almost he has made at least a     
single attempt4 ,in ,iphigenia1 he      
attempted to express the spirit of      
,ancient ,tragedy1 according to his     
conceptions of it1 with regard          
especially to repose1 perspicuity1 and  
ideality4 ,with the same simplicity1    
flexibility1 and noble elegance1 he     
composed his ,tasso1 in which he has    
availed himself of an historical        
anecdote to embody in a general         
significance the contrast between a     
court and a poet's life4 ,egmont again  
is a romantic and historical drama1 the 
style of which steers a middle course   
between his first manner in ,gtz1 and   
the form of ,shakspeare4 ,erwin und     
,elmire and ,claudine von ,villabella1  
if ,i may say so1 are ideal operettes1  
which breathe so lightly and airily     
that1 with the accompaniments of music  
and acting1 they would be in danger of  
becoming heavy and prosaic2 in these    
pieces the noble and sustained style of 

the dialogue in ,tasso is diversified   
with the most tender songs4 ,jery und   
,btely is a charming natural picture of 
,swiss manners1 and in the spirit and   
form of the best ,french operettes2     
,scherz ,list und ,bache again is a true
 opera buffa1 full of ,italian ,lazzi4  
,die ,mitschuldigen is a comedy of      
common life in rhyme1 and after the     
,french rules4 ,goethe carried his      
condescension so far that he even wrote 
a continuation of an after-piece of     
,florian's2 and his taste was so        
impartial that he even translated       
several of ,voltaire's tragedies for the
 ,german stage4 ,goethe's words and     
rhythm no doubt have always golden      
resonance1 but still we cannot praise   
these pieces as successful translations2
 and indeed it would be matter of regret
 if that had succeeded which ought never
 to have been attempted4 ,to banish     
these unprofitable productions from the 
,german soil1 it is not necessary to    
call in the aid of ,lessing's           

,dramaturgie2 ,goethe's own masterly    
parody on ,french ,tragedy in some      
scenes of ,esther1 will do this much    
more amusingly and effectually4  ,der   
,triumph der ,empfindsamkeit 7,the      
,triumph of ,sensibility7 is a highly   
ingenious satire of ,goethe's own       
imitators1 and inclines to the arbitrary
 comic1 and the fancifully symbolical of
 ,aristophanes1 but a modest            
,aristophanes in good company and at    
court4 ,at a much earlier period ,goethe
 had1 in some of his merry tales and    
carnival plays1 completely appropriated 
the manner of our honest ,hans ,sachs4  
,in all these transformations we        
distinctly recognize the same free and  
powerful poetical spirit1 to which we   
may safely apply the ,homeric lines on  
,proteus3    ,all' aetoi protista leon  
genet' aeugeneios--   ,pineto d' aegron 
aedor1 kai dendreon uphipertaelon4      
,odyss4 lib4 iv    ,a lion now1 he curls
 a surgy mane2   ,here from our strict  
embrace a stream he glides1   ,and last1

 sublime his stately growth he rears1   
,a tree1 and well-dissembled foliage    
wears4--,,pope4 ,footnote3 ,i have here 
quoted the translation of ,pope1 though 
nothing can well be more vapid and more 
unlike the original1 which is literally1
 ,first1 he  became a lion with a huge  
mane--and then flowing water2 and a tree
 with lofty foliage4--,it would not1    
perhaps1 be advisable to recur to our   
earliest mode of classical translation1 
line for line1 and nearly word for word2
 but when ,german ,literature shall be  
better known in ,england1 it will be    
seen from the masterly versions of ,voss
 and ,schlegel1 that without diluting by
 idle epithets one line into three1 as  
in the above example1 it is still       
possible to combine fidelity with       
spirit4 ,the ,german translation quoted 
by ,mr4 ,schlegel runs1   ,erstlich ward
 er ein ,leu mit frchterlich rollender  
,mhne1   ,floss dann als ,wasser dahin1 
und rauscht' als ,baum in den ,wolken4  
--,,trans4  ,to the youthful epoch      

belongs his ,faust1 a work which was    
early planned1 though not published till
 a late period1 and which even in its   
latest shape is still a fragment1 and   
from its very nature perhaps must always
 remain so4 ,it is hard to say whether  
we are here more lost in astonishment at
 the heights which the poet frequently  
reaches1 or seized with giddiness at the
 depths which he lays open to our sight4
 ,but this is not the place to express  
the whole of our admiration of this     
labyrinthine and boundless work1 the    
peculiar creation of ,goethe2 we hare   
merely to consider it in a dramatic     
point of view4 ,the marvellous popular  
story of ,faustus is a subject          
peculiarly adapted for the stage2 and   
the ,marionette play1 from which        
,goethe1 after ,lessing ,footnote3      
,lessing has borrowed the only scene of 
his sketch which he has published1      
7,faustus summoning the evil spirits in 
order to select the nimblest for his    
servant17 from the old piece which bears

 the showy title3 ,infelix ,prudentia1  
or ,doctor ,joannes ,faustus4 ,in       
,england ,marlow had long ago written a 
,faustus1 but unfortunately it is not   
printed in ,dodsley's ,collection41 took
 the first idea of a drama1 satisfies   
our expectation even in the meagre      
scenes and sorry words of ignorant      
puppet-showmen4 ,goethe's work1 which in
 some points adheres closely to the     
tradition1 but leaves it entirely in    
others1 purposely runs out in all       
directions beyond the dimensions of the 
theatre4 ,in many scenes the action     
stands quite still1 and they consist    
wholly of long soliloquies1 or          
conversations1 delineating ,faustus'    
internal conditions and dispositions1   
and the development of his reflections  
on the insufficiency of human knowledge1
 and the unsatisfactory lot of human    
nature2 other scenes1 though in         
themselves extremely ingenious and      
significant1 nevertheless1 in regard to 
the progress of the action1 possess an  

accidental appearance2 many again1 while
 they are in the conception theatrically
 effective1 are but slightly            
sketched1--rhapsodical fragments without
 beginning or end1 in which the poet    
opens for a moment a surprising         
prospect1 and then immediately drops the
 curtain again3 whereas in the truly    
dramatic poem1 intended to carry the    
spectators along with it1 the separate  
parts must be fashioned after the figure
 of the whole1 so that we may say1 each 
scene may have its exposition1 its      
intrigue1 and winding up4 ,some scenes1 
full of the highest energy and          
overpowering pathos1 for example1 the   
murder of ,valentine1 and ,margaret and 
,faustus in the dungeon1 prove that the 
poet was a complete master of stage     
effect1 and that he merely sacrificed it
 for the sake of more comprehensive     
views4 ,he makes frequent demands on the
 imagination of his readers2 nay1 he    
compels them1 by way of background for  
his flying groups1 to supply immense    

moveable pictures1 and such as no       
theatrical art is capable of bringing   
before the eye4 ,to represent the       
,faustus of ,goethe1 we must possess    
,faustus' magic staff1 and his formulas 
of conjuration4 ,and yet with all this  
unsuitableness for outward              
representation1 very much may be learned
 from this wonderful work1 with regard  
both to plan and execution4 ,in a       
prologue1 which was probably composed at
 a later period1 the poet explains how1 
if true to his genius1 he could not     
accommodate himself to the demands of a 
mixed multitude of spectators1 and      
writes in some measure a farewell letter
 to the theatre4  ,all must allow that  
,goethe possesses dramatic talent in a  
very high degree1 but not indeed much   
theatrical talent4 ,he is much more     
anxious to effect his object by tender  
development than by rapid external      
motion2 even the mild grace of his      
harmonious mind prevented him from      
aiming at strong demagogic effect4      

,iphigenia in ,taurus possesses1 it is  
true1 more affinity to the ,greek spirit
 than perhaps any other work of the     
moderns composed before ,goethe's2 but  
is not so much an ancient tragedy as a  
reflected image of one1 a musical echo3 
the violent catastrophes of the latter  
appear here in the distance only as     
recollections1 and all is softly        
dissolved within the mind4 ,the deepest 
and most moving pathos is to be found in
 ,egmont1 but in the conclusion this    
tragedy also is removed from the        
external world into the domain of an    
ideal soul-music4  ,that with this      
direction of his poetical career to the 
purest expression of his inspired       
imagining1 without regard to any other  
object1 and with the universality of his
 artistic studies1 ,goethe should not   
have had that decided influence on the  
shape of our theatre which1 if he had   
chosen to dedicate himself exclusively  
and immediately to it1 he might have    
exercised1 is easily conceivable4  ,in  

the mean time1 shortly after ,goethe's  
first appearance1 the attempt had been  
made to bring ,shakspeare on our stage4 
,the effort was a great and             
extraordinary one4 ,actors still alive  
acquired their first laurels in this    
wholly novel kind of exhibition1 and    
,schrder1 perhaps1 in some of the most  
celebrated tragic and comic parts1      
attained to the same perfection for     
which ,garrick had been idolized4 ,as a 
whole1 however1 no one piece appeared in
 a very perfect shape2 most of them were
 in heavy prose translations1 and       
frequently mere extracts1 with          
disfiguring alterations1 were exhibited4
 ,the separate characters and situations
 had been hit to a certain degree of    
success1 but the sense of his           
composition was often missed4  ,in this 
state of things ,schiller made his      
appearance1 a man endowed with all the  
qualifications necessary to produce at  
once a strong effect on the multitude1  
and on nobler minds4 ,he composed his   

earliest works while very young1 and    
unacquainted with that world which he   
attempted to paint2 and although a      
genius independent and boldly daring1 he
 was nevertheless influenced in various 
ways by the models which he saw in the  
already mentioned pieces of ,lessing1 by
 the earlier labours of ,goethe1 and in 
,shakspeare1 so far as he could         
understand him without an acquaintance  
with the original4  ,in this way were   
produced the works of his youth3--,die  
,raber1 ,cabale und ,liebe1 and ,fiesco4
 ,the first1 wild and horrible as it    
was1 produced so powerful an effect as  
even to turn the heads of youthful      
enthusiasts4 ,the defective imitation   
here of ,shakspeare is not to be        
mistaken3 ,francis ,moor is a prosaical 
,richard ,,iii41 ennobled by none of the
 properties which in the latter mingle  
admiration with aversion4 ,cabale und   
,liebe can hardly affect us by its      
extravagant sentimentality1 but it      
tortures us by the most painful         

impressions4 ,fiesco is in design the   
most perverted1 in effect the feeblest4 
,so noble a mind could not long         
persevere in such mistaken courses1     
though they gained him applauses which  
might have rendered the continuance of  
his blindness excusable4 ,he had in his 
own case experienced the dangers of an  
undisciplined spirit and an ungovernable
 defiance of all constraining authority1
 and therefore1 with incredible         
diligence and a sort of passion1 he gave
 himself up to artistic discipline4 ,the
 work which marks this new epoch is ,don
 ,carlos4 ,in parts we observe a greater
 depth in the delineation of character2 
yet the old and tumid extravagance is   
not altogether lost1 but merely clothed 
with choicer forms4 ,in the situations  
there is much of pathetic power1 the    
plot is complicated even to epigrammatic
 subtlety2 but of such value in the eyes
 of the poet were his dearly purchased  
reflections on human nature and social  
institutions1 that1 instead of          

expressing them by the progress of the  
action1 he exhibited them with          
circumstantial fulness1 and made his    
characters philosophize more or less on 
themselves and others1 and by that means
 swelled his work to a size quite       
incompatible with theatrical limits4    
,historical and philosophical studies   
seemed now1 to the ultimate profit of   
his art1 to have seduced the poet for a 
time from his poetical career1 to which 
he returned with a riper mind1 enriched 
with varied knowledge1 and truly        
enlightened at last with respect to his 
own aims and means4 ,he now applied     
himself exclusively to ,historical      
,tragedy1 and endeavoured1 by divesting 
himself of his personality1 to rise to a
 truly objective representation4 ,in    
,wallenstein he has adhered so          
conscientiously to historical truth1    
that he could not wholly master his     
materials1 an event of no great         
historical extent is spun out into two  
plays1 with prologue in some degree     

didactical4 ,in form he has closely     
followed ,shakspeare2 only that he might
 not make too large a demand on the     
imagination of the spectators1 he has   
endeavoured to confine the changes of   
place and time within narrower limits4  
,he also tied himself down to a more    
sustained observance of tragical        
dignity1 and has brought forward no     
persons of mean condition1 or at least  
did not allow them to speak in their    
natural tone1 and banished into the     
prelude the mere people1 here           
represented by the army1 though         
,shakspeare introduced them with such   
vividness and truth into the very midst 
of the great public events4 ,the loves  
of ,thekla and ,max ,piccolomini form1  
it is true1 properly an episode1 and    
bear the stamp of an age very different 
from that depicted in the rest of the   
work2 but it affords an opportunity for 
the most affecting scenes1 and is       
conceived with equal tenderness and     
dignity4  ,maria ,stuart is planned and 

executed with more artistic skill1 and  
also with greater depth and breadth4    
,all is wisely weighed2 we may censure  
particular parts as offensive3 the      
quarrel for instance1 between the two   
,queens1 the wild fury of ,mortimer's   
passion1 c42 but it is hardly possible  
to take any thing away without involving
 the whole in confusion4 ,the piece     
cannot fail of effect2 the last moments 
of ,mary are truly worthy of a queen2   
religious impressions are employed with 
becoming earnestness2 only from the     
care1 perhaps superfluous1 to exercise1 
after ,mary's death1 poetical justice on
 ,elizabeth1 the spectator is dismissed 
rather cooled and indifferent4  ,with   
such a wonderful subject as the ,maid of
 ,orleans1 ,schiller thought himself    
entitled to take greater liberties4 ,the
 plot is looser2 the scene with         
,montgomery1 an epic intermixture1 is at
 variance with the general tone2 in the 
singular and inconceivable appearance of
 the black knight1 the object of the    

poet is ambiguous2 in the character of  
,talbot1 and many other parts1 ,schiller
 has entered into an unsuccessful       
competition with ,shakspeare2 and ,i    
know not but the colouring employed1    
which is not so brilliant as might be   
imagined1 is an equivalent for the      
severer pathos which has been sacrificed
 to it4 ,the history of the ,maid of    
,orleans1 even to its details1 is       
generally known2 her high mission was   
believed by herself and generally by her
 contemporaries1 and produced the most  
extraordinary effects4 ,the marvel      
might1 therefore1 have been represented 
by the poet1 even though the sceptical  
spirit of his contemporaries should have
 deterred him from giving it out for    
real2 and the real ignominious martyrdom
 of this betrayed and abandoned heroine 
would have agitated us more deeply than 
the gaudy and rose-coloured one which1  
in contradiction to history1 ,schiller  
has invented for her4 ,shakspeare's     
picture1 though partial from national   

prejudice1 still possesses much more    
historical truth and profundity4        
,however1 the ,german piece will ever   
remain as a generous attempt to         
vindicate the honour of a name deformed 
by impudent ridicule2 and its dazzling  
effect1 strengthened by the rich        
ornateness of the language1 deservedly  
gained for it on the stage the most     
eminent success4  ,least of all am ,i   
disposed to approve of the principles   
which ,schiller followed in ,the ,bride 
of ,messina1 and which he openly avows  
in his preface4 ,the examination of     
them1 however1 would lead me too far    
into the province of theory4 ,it was    
intended to be a tragedy1 at once       
ancient in its form1 but romantic in    
substance4 ,a story altogether          
fictitious is kept in a costume so      
indefinite and so devoid of all         
intrinsic probability1 that the picture 
is neither truly ideal nor truly        
natural1 neither mythological nor       
historical4 ,the romantic poetry seeks  

indeed to blend together the most remote
 objects1 but it cannot admit of        
combining incompatible things2 the way  
of thinking of the people represented   
cannot be at once ,pagan and ,christian4
 ,i will not complain of him for        
borrowing openly as he has done2 the    
whole is principally composed of two    
ingredients1 the story of ,eteocles and 
,polynices1 who1 notwithstanding the    
mediation of their mother ,jocaste1     
contend for the sole possession of the  
throne1 and of the brothers1 in the     
,zwillingen van ,klinger1 and in ,julius
 von ,tarent1 impelled to fratricide by 
rivalry in love4 ,in the introduction of
 the choruses also1 though they possess 
much lyrical sublimity and many         
beauties1 the spirit of the ancients has
 been totally mistaken2 as each of the  
hostile brothers has a chorus attached  
to his1 the one contending against the  
other1 they both cease to be a true     
chorus2 that is1 the voice of human     
sympathy and contemplation elevated     

above all personal considerations4      
,schiller's last work1 ,wilhelm ,tell1  
is1 in my opinion1 also his best4 ,here 
he has returned to the poetry of        
history2 the manner in which he has     
handled his subject1 is true1 cordial1  
and when we consider ,schiller's        
ignorance of ,swiss nature and manners1 
wonderful in point of local truth4 ,it  
is true he had here a noble source to   
draw from in the speaking pictures of   
the immortal ,john ,mller4 ,this        
soul-kindling picture of old ,german    
manners1 piety1 and true heroism1 might 
have merited1 as a solemn celebration of
 ,swiss freedom1 five hundred years     
after its foundation1 to have been      
exhibited1 in view of ,tell's chapel on 
the banks of the lake of ,lucerne1 in   
the open air1 and with the ,alps for a  
background4  ,schiller was carried off  
by an untimely death in the fulness of  
mental maturity2 up to the last moment  
his health1 which had long been         
undermined1 was made to yield to his    

powerful will1 and completely exhausted 
in the pursuit of most praiseworthy     
objects4 ,how much might he not have    
still performed had he lived to dedicate
 himself exclusively to the theatre1 and
 with every work attained a higher      
mastery in his art6 ,he was1 in the     
genuine sense of the word1 a virtuous   
artist2 with parity of mind he          
worshipped the true and the beautiful1  
and to his indefatigable1 efforts to    
attain them his own existence was the   
sacrifice2 he was1 moreover1 far removed
 from that petty self-love and jealousy 
but too common even among artists of    
excellence4  ,great original minds in   
,germany have always been followed by a 
host of imitators1 and hence both       
,goethe and ,schiller have been the     
occasion1 without any fault of theirs1  
of a number of defective and degenerate 
productions being brought on our stage4 
,gtz van ,berlichingen was followed by  
quite a flood of chivalrous plays1 in   
which there was nothing historical but  

the names and other external            
circumstances1 nothing chivalrous but   
the helmets1 bucklers1 and swords1 and  
nothing of old ,german honesty but the  
supposed rudeness3 the sentiments were  
as modern as they were vulgar4 ,from    
chivalry-pieces they became true        
cavalry-pieces1 which certainly deserved
 to be acted by horses rather than by   
men4 ,to all those who in some measure  
appeal to the imagination by superficial
 allusions to former times1 may be      
applied what ,i said of one of the most 
admired of them3    ,mit ,harsthrnern1  
und ,burgen1 uud ,harnischen1 pranget   
,johanna2   ,traun6 mir gefiele das     
,stck1 wren nicht ,worte dabey4         
,footnote3   ,with trumpets1 and        
donjons1 and helmets1 ,johanna parades  
it4   ,it would certainly please were   
but the words all away4--,,ed4  ,the    
next place in the public favour has been
 held by the ,family ,picture and the   
,affecting ,drama1 two secondary        
species4 ,from the charge of encouraging

 these both by precept and example      
,lessing1 ,goethe1 and ,schiller 7the   
two last by their earliest compositions 
,stella1 ,glavigo1 ,die ,geschwister1   
,cabale und ,liebe71 cannot be          
acquitted4 ,i will name no one1 but     
merely suppose that two writers of some 
talent and theatrical knowledge had     
dedicated themselves to these species1  
that they had both mistaken the essence 
of dramatic poetry1 and laid down to    
themselves a pretended moral aim2 but   
that the one saw morality under the     
narrow guise of economy1 and the other  
in that of sensibility3 what sort of    
fruits would thus be put forth1 and how 
would the applause of the multitude     
finally decide between these two        
competitors8  ,the family picture is    
intended to portray the every-day course
 of the middle ranks of society4 ,the   
extraordinary events which are produced 
by intrigue are consequently banished   
from it3 to cover this want of motion1  
the writer has recourse to a            

characterization wholly individual1 and 
capable of receiving vividness from a   
practised player1 but attaches itself to
 external peculiarities just as a bad   
portrait-painter endeavours to attain a 
resemblance by noticing every pit of    
small-pox and wart1 and peculiar dress  
and cravat-tie3 the motives and         
situations are sometimes humorous and   
droll1 but never truly diverting1 as the
 serious and prosaical aim which is     
always kept in view completely prevents 
this4 ,the rapid determinations of      
,comedy generally end before the family 
life begins1 by which all is fixed in   
every-day habits4 ,to make economy      
poetical is impossible3 the dramatic    
family painter will be able to say as   
little of a fortunate and tranquil      
domestic establishment1 as the historian
 can of a state in possession of        
external and internal tranquillity4 ,he 
is therefore driven to interest us by   
painting with painful accuracy the      
torments and the penury of domestic     

life--chagrins experienced in the honest
 exercise of duty1 in the education of  
children1 interminable dissensions      
between husband and wife1 the bad       
conduct of servants1 and1 above all     
things1 the cares of earning a daily    
subsistence4 ,the spectators understand 
these pictures but too well1 for every  
man knows where the shoe pinches2 it may
 be very salutary for them to have1 in  
presence of the stage1 to run over      
weekly in thought the relation between  
their expenditure and income2 but surely
 they will hardly derive from it        
elevation of mind or recreation1 for    
they do but find again on the stage the 
very same thing which they have at home 
from morning to night4  ,the sentimental
 poet1 again1 contrives to lighten their
 heart4 ,his general doctrine amounts   
properly to this1 that what is called a 
good heart atones for all errors and    
extravagances1 and that1 with respect to
 virtue1 we are not to insist so        
strictly on principles4 ,do but allow1  

he seems to say to his spectators1 free 
scope to your natural impulses2 see how 
well it becomes my nave girls1 when they
 voluntarily and without reserve confess
 every thing4 ,if he only knows how to  
corrupt by means of effeminate          
emotions--rather sensual than moral1 but
 at the close contrives1 by the         
introduction of some generous           
benefactor1 who showers out his         
liberality with open hands1 to make all 
things pretty even1 he then marvellously
 delights the vitiated hearts of his    
audience3 they feel as if they had      
themselves done noble actions1 without1 
however1 putting their hands in their   
own pockets--all is drawn from the purse
 of the generous poet4 ,in the long run1
 therefore1 the affecting species can   
hardly fail to gain a victory over the  
economical2 and this has actually been  
the case in ,germany4 ,but what in these
 dramas is painted to us not only as    
natural and allowable1 but even as moral
 and dignified1 is strange beyond all   

thought1 and the seduction1             
consequently1 is much more dangerous    
than that of the licentious ,comedy1 for
 this very reason1 that it does not     
disgust us by external indecency1 but   
steals into unguarded minds1 and selects
 the most sacred names for a disguise4  
,the poetical as well as moral decline  
of taste in our time has been attended  
with this consequence1 that the most    
popular writers for the stage1          
regardless of the opinion of good       
judges1 and of true repute1 seek only   
for momentary applause2 while others1   
who have both higher aims1 keep both the
 former in view1 cannot prevail on      
themselves to comply with the demands of
 the multitude1 and when they do compose
 dramatically1 have no regard to the    
stage4 ,hence they are defective in the 
theatrical part of art1 which can only  
be attained in perfection by practice   
and experience4  ,the repertory of our  
stage1 therefore1 exhibits1 in its      
miserable wealth1 a motley assemblage of

 chivalrous pieces1 family pictures1 and
 sentimental dramas1 which are          
occasionally1 though seldom1 varied by  
works in a grander and higher style by  
,shakspeare and ,schiller4 ,in this     
state of things1 translations and       
imitations of foreign novelties1 and    
especially of the ,french after-pieces  
and operettes1 are indispensable4 ,from 
the worthlessness of the separate works1
 nothing but the fleeting charm of      
novelty is sought for in theatrical     
entertainment1 to the great injury of   
the histrionic art1 as a number of      
insignificant parts must be got by heart
 in the most hurried manner1 to be      
immediately forgotten ,footnote3 ,to    
this must be added1 by way of rendering 
the vulgarity of our theatre almost     
incurable1 the radically depraved       
disposition of every thing having any   
reference to the theatre4 ,the companies
 of actors ought to be under the        
management of intelligent judges and    
persons practised in the dramatic art1  

and not themselves players4 ,engel      
presided for a time over the ,berlin    
theatre1 and eye-witnesses universally  
assert that he succeeded in giving it a 
great elevation4 ,what ,goethe has      
effected in the management of the       
theatre of ,weimar1 in a small town1 and
 with small means1 is known to all good 
theatrical judges in ,germany4 ,rare    
talents he can neither create nor       
reward1 but he accustoms the actors to  
order and discipline1 to which they are 
generally altogether disinclined1 and   
thereby gives to his representations a  
unity and harmony which we do not       
witness on larger theatres1 where every 
individual plays as his own fancy       
prompts him4 ,the little correctness    
with which their parts are got by heart1
 and the imperfection of their oral     
delivery1 ,i have elsewhere censured4 ,i
 have heard verses mutilated by a       
celebrated player in a manner which     
would at ,paris be considered           
unpardonable in a beginner4 ,it is a    

fact1 that in a certain theatre1 when   
they were under the melancholy necessity
 of representing a piece in verse they  
wrote out the parts as prose1 that the  
players might not be disturbed in their 
darling but stupid affectation of       
nature1 by observation of the quantity4 
,how many periwig-pated fellows 7as     
,shakspeare called such people71 must we
 suffer1 who imagine they are affording 
the public an enjoyment1 when they      
straddle along the boards with their    
awkward persons1 considering the words  
which the poet has given them to repeat 
merely as a necessary evil4 ,our players
 are less anxious to please than the    
,french4 ,by the creation of standing   
national theatres as they are called1 by
 which in several capitals people       
suppose that they have accomplished     
wonders1 and are likely to improve the  
histrionic art1 they have on the        
contrary put a complete end to all      
competition4 ,they bestow on the players
 exclusive privileges--they secure their

 salaries for life2 having now nothing  
to dread from more accomplished rivals1 
and being independent of the fluctuating
 favour of the spectators1 the only     
concern of the actors is to enjoy their 
places1 like so many benefices1 in the  
most convenient manner4 ,hence the      
national theatres have become true      
hospitals for languor and laziness4 ,the
 question of ,hamlet with respect to the
 players--,do they grow rusty8 will     
never become obsolete2 it must1 alas6 be
 always answered in the affirmative4    
,the actor1 from the ambiguous position 
in which he lives 7which1 in the nature 
of things1 cannot well be altered71 must
 possess a certain extravagant          
enthusiasm for his art1 if he is to gain
 any extraordinary repute4 ,he cannot be
 too passionately alive to noisy        
applause1 reputation1 and every         
brilliant reward which may crown his    
efforts to please4 ,the present moment  
is his kingdom1 time is his most        
dangerous enemy1 as there is nothing    

durable in his exhibition4 ,whenever he 
is filled with the tradesman-like       
anxiety of securing a moderate          
maintenance for himself1 his wife1 and  
children1 there is an end of all        
improvement4 ,we do not mean to say that
 the old age of deserving artists ought 
not to be provided for4 ,but to those   
players who from age1 illness1 or other 
accidents1 have lost their              
qualifications for acting1 we ought to  
give pensions to induce them to leave   
off instead of continuing to play4 ,in  
general1 we ought not to put it into the
 heads of the players that they are such
 important and indispensable personages4
 ,nothing is more rare than a truly     
great player2 but nothing is more common
 than the qualifications for filling    
characters in the manner we generally   
see them filled2 of this we may be      
convinced in every amateur theatre among
 tolerably educated people4 ,finally1   
the relation which subsists with us     
between the managers of theatres and    

writers1 is also as detrimental as      
possible4 ,in ,france and ,england1 the 
author of a piece has a certain share of
 the profits of each representation2    
this procures for him a permanent       
income1 whenever any of his pieces are  
so successful as to keep their place on 
the theatre4 ,again1 if the piece is    
unsuccessful1 he receives nothing4 ,in  
,germany1 the managers of theatres pay a
 certain sum beforehand1 and at their   
own risk1 for the manuscripts which they
 receive4 ,they may thus be very        
considerable losers2 and on the other   
hand1 if the piece is extraordinarily   
successful1 the author is not suitably  
rewarded4  ,the ,author is under a      
mistake with respect to the reward which
 falls to the share of the dramatic     
writer in ,england4 ,he has not a part  
of the profits of each representation4  
,if the play runs three nights1 it      
brings him in as much as if it were to  
run three thousand nights4--,,trans4    
,the labours of the poets who do not    

write immediately for the theatre take  
every variety of direction3 in this1 as 
in other departments1 may be observed   
the ferment of ideas that has brought on
 our literature in foreign countries the
 reproach of a chaotic anarchy1 in      
which1 however1 the striving after a    
higher aim as yet unreached is          
sufficiently visible4  ,the more        
profound study of ,aesthetics has among 
the ,germans1 by nature a speculative   
rather than a practical people1 led to  
this consequence1 that works of art1 and
 tragedies more especially1 have been   
executed on abstract theories1 more or  
less misunderstood4 ,it was natural that
 these tragedies should produce no      
effect on the theatre2 nay1 they are1 in
 general1 unsuited for representation1  
and wholly devoid of any inner principle
 of life4  ,others again1 with true     
feeling for it1 have1 as it were1       
appropriated the very spirit of the     
ancient tragedians1 and sought for the  
most suitable means of accommodating the

 simple and pure forms of ancient art to
 the present constitution of our stage4 
,men truly distinguished for their      
talents have attached themselves to the 
romantic drama1 but in it they have     
generally adopted a latitude which is   
not really allowable1 except in a       
romance1 wholly disregarding the        
compression which the dramatic form     
necessarily requires4 ,or they have     
seized only the musically fanciful and  
picturesquely sportive side of the      
,spanish dramas1 without their thorough 
keeping1 their energetical power1 and   
their theatrical effect4  ,what path    
shall we now enter8 ,shall we endeavour 
to accustom ourselves again to the      
,french form of ,tragedy1 which has been
 so long banished8 ,repeated experience 
of it has proved that1 however modified 
in the translation and representation1  
for even in the hands of a ,goethe or a 
,schiller some modification is          
indispensable1 it can never be very     
successful4 ,the genuine imitation of   

,greek ,tragedy has far more affinity to
 our national ways of thinking2 but it  
is beyond the comprehension of the      
multitude1 and1 like the contemplation  
of ancient statues1 can never be more   
than an acquired artistic enjoyment for 
a few highly cultivated minds4  ,in     
,comedy1 ,lessing has already pointed   
out the difficulty of introducing       
national manners which are not          
provincial1 inasmuch as with us the tone
 of social life is not modelled after a 
common central standard4 ,if we wish    
pure comedies1 ,i would strongly        
recommend the use of rhyme2 with the    
more artificial form they might1        
perhaps1 gradually assume also a        
peculiarity of substance4  ,to me1      
however1 it appears that this is not the
 most urgent want3 let us first bring to
 perfection the serious and higher      
species1 in a manner worthy of the      
,german character4 ,now here1 it appears
 to me1 that our taste inclines         
altogether to the romantic4 ,what most  

attracts the multitude in our           
half-sentimental1 half-humorous dramas1 
which one moment transport us to ,peru1 
and the next to ,kamschatka1 and soon   
after into the times of chivalry1 while 
the sentiments are all modern and       
lachrymose1 is invariably a certain     
sprinkling of the romantic1 which we    
recognize even in the most insipid      
magical operas4 ,the true significance  
of this species was lost with us before 
it was properly found2 the fancy has    
passed with the inventors of such       
chimeras1 and the views of the plays are
 sometimes wiser than those of their    
authors4 ,in a hundred play-bills the   
name romantic is profaned1 by being     
lavished on rude and monstrous          
abortions2 let us therefore be permitted
 to elevate it1 by criticism and        
history1 again to its true import4 ,we  
have lately endeavoured in many ways to 
revive the remains of our old national  
poetry4 ,these may afford the poet a    
foundation for the wonderful            

festival-play2 but the most dignified   
species of the romantic is the          
historical4  ,in this field the most    
glorious laurels may yet be reaped by   
dramatic poets who are willing to       
emulate ,goethe and ,schiller4 ,only let
 our historical drama be in reality and 
thoroughly national2 let it not attach  
itself to the life and adventures of    
single knights and petty princes1 who   
exercised no influence on the fortunes  
of the whole nation4 ,let it1 at the    
same time1 be truly historical1 drawn   
from a profound knowledge1 and          
transporting us back to the great olden 
time4 ,in this mirror let the poet      
enable us to see1 while we take deep    
shame to ourselves for what we are1 what
 the ,germans were in former times1 and 
what they must again be4 ,let him       
impress it strongly on our hearts1 that1
 if we do not consider the lessons of   
history better than we have hitherto    
done1 we ,germans--we1 formerly the     
greatest and most illustrious nation of 

,europe1 whose freely- elected prince   
was willingly acknowledged the head of  
all ,christendom--are in danger of      
disappearing altogether from the list of
 independent nations4 ,the higher ranks1
 by their predilection for foreign      
manners1 by their fondness for exotic   
literature1 which1 transplanted from its
 natural climate into hot-houses1 can   
only yield a miserable fruit1 have long 
alienated themselves from the body of   
the people2 still longer1 even for three
 centuries1 at least1 has internal      
dissension wasted our noblest energies  
in civil wars1 whose ruinous            
consequences are now first beginning to 
disclose themselves4 ,may all who have  
an opportunity of influencing the public
 mind exert themselves to extinguish at 
last the old misunderstandings1 and to  
rally1 as round a consecrated banner1   
all the well-disposed objects of        
reverence1 which1 unfortunately1 have   
been too long deserted1 but by faithful 
attachment to which our forefathers     

acquired so much happiness and renown1  
and to let them feel their              
indestructible unity as ,germans6 ,what 
a glorious picture is furnished by our  
history1 from the most remote times1 the
 wars with the ,romans1 down to the     
establishment of the ,german ,empire6   
,then the chivalrous and brilliant era  
of the ,house of ,hohenstaufen6 and     
lastly1 of greater political importance1
 and more nearly concerning ourselves1  
the ,house of ,hapsburg1 with its many  
princes and heroes4 ,what a field for a 
poet1 who1 like ,shakspeare1 could      
discern the poetical aspect of the great
 events of the world6 ,but1 alas1 so    
little interest do we ,germans take in  
events truly important to our nation1   
that its greatest achievements still    
lack even a fitting historical record4