that it is not enough to aim at the plastic in form and representation, the prime requisite is to think plastically, that is to say, in the manner of the ancients. But if it is an injury to Art when Sculpture deviates into the sphere of painting, on the other hand, the restriction of painting to plastic conditions and form is a limitation arbitrarily imposed. For if the former, like gravity, operates on a single point, the latter, like light, may fill the whole world with its creations. Transl. Phil. Schrift. pp. 376-7.

The reader may compare the first sentence of the Essay with Schlegel, vol. ii. pp. 15-16, for a general resemblance of thought.

(d) p. 32. This paragraph may be compared with Schlegel, Lect. xii. (now xvii.) vol. iii. pp. 116, 17; and p. 113 : – Es haben unter dem Menschengeschlecht, &c. though there is no identity of expression.

(e) p.32. Schlegel observes in his xiith (xxiind) Lecture, "We can readily admit that most dramatic works of English and Spanish poets are, according to the ancient sense, neither tragedies nor comedies; they are romantic entertainments-show-pieces (schauspiele). Transl. vol. iii. p. 117.

(ƒ) p. 34. Schlegel's opinion on stage illusion, in reference to the old doctrine of the unity of time, is to be found in his ixth (now xviith) Lecture: see especially the paragraph Corneille findet diese Regel, &c. vol. ii. pp. 162, 3, 4; though there is no perfect coincidence with Mr. C.'s observations on the same subject anywhere, and for the most part none at all. Compare also Schlegel's remarks on stage scenery and decorations in his xiii th (now xxvii th) Lecture p. 74-77.

(g) p. 64. Most of the substance of the following paragraph may be found in the following of Schlegel's xiith (now xxii nd) Lecture. To be formless then is by no means permissible for works of genius; but of this there is no danger. In order to meet the objection of formlessness we have but to understand properly what Form is: for this has been conceived by most men, and particularly by those critics who insist above all things on a strict regularity, in a mechanical

sense, and not as it ought to be, organically. Form is mechanical when it is impressed upon any piece of matter by an outward operation, as a mere accidental ingredient, without regard to the nature of the thing, as for example, when we give any form at pleasure to a soft mass, to be retained after it has hardened. Organic form, on the contrary, is innate; it forms from within outward, and attains its determinate character together with the full development of the germ. Such forms are found in nature universally, whereever living powers are in action, from the crystallization of salts and minerals to plants and flowers, and from these again up to the human countenance. Even in fine art, as in the realm of that supreme artist, Nature, all genuine forms are organical, that is to say they are determined by the nature and quality of the work. In a word, the form is no other than a significant exterior, the physiognomy of a thing,when not defaced by disturbing accidents, a speaking physi ognomy,-which bears true witness of its hidden essence.— The forms vary with the direction of the poetical sense. Transl. vol. iii. pp. 115-16.

(h) p. 67. The doctrine of this section on Shakspeare's judgment may be compared with that of Schlegel laid down in Lect. xii. (now xxii.) vol. iii. p. 126-30. Nach allen stimmen zu urtheilen &c. But such was Mr. Coleridge's doctrine before he had read Schlegel's Dramatic Lectures; and, as far as I have observed, there is no similarity of expression.

(i) p. 69. The leading thought in this simile is the same as in one of Schlegel's in his first Lecture, but the expression is different. "Many at first sight brilliant appearances in the domain of the fine Arts, &c. resemble the gardens which little children lay out; impatient to behold a creation of their hands complete on the instant, they break off twigs and flowers here and there, and plant them without more ado in the earth. At first the whole wears a goodly aspect; the childish gardener walks proudly up and down among his showy flower-beds, till all comes to a miserable conclusion, when the rootless plants hang down their withering leaves and blossoms, and only dry stalks remain; while the

dark forest whereon the diligence of the artist was never bestowed, which rose up towards heaven before the memory of man, stands unshattered, and fills the solitary beholder with religious awe."

The same thought with its affecting images has been introduced by Mr. II. Taylor into his Lay of Elena.

"Then roamed she through the forest walks,
Cropping the wild flowers by their stalks,
And divers full-blown blossoms gay
She gathered, and in fair array

Disposed, and stuck them in the mound,
Which had been once her garden ground.
They seemed to flourish for a while,
A moment's space she seemed to smile;
But brief the bloom and vain the toil,
They were not native to the soil."

Philip Van Artwelde, 3rd edit.

(j) p. 71. See Schelling's Oration pp. 376-7: and Schlegel, Lect. i. vol. i. p. 9. and Lect. ix. (now xvii.) vol. ii. p. 172.

(k) p. 71. "The Pantheon differs not more from Westminster Abbey or the Church of St. Stephen at Vienna, than the structure of a tragedy of Sophocles from that of a stage piece of Shakspeare." Transl. Lect. i. vol. i. p. 10.

(1) p. 72. Ib. p. 9. See Note 11 to Essay on the Greek Drama.

(m) p. 72. "We must conceive it, (the Chorus) as the personified reflection on the action which is going on, &c. This is the general poetical import, which is no way affected by the fact, that the Chorus had a local origin in the feasts of Bacchus, and ever retained among the Greeks a specially local signification." Transl. Lect. iii. (now v.) vol. i. p. 79.

"It was intelligently remarked by the Sophist Gorgias, that Mars had inspired this last-named great drama (The Seven before Thebes) instead of Bacchus; for Bacchus, not Apollo, was the tutelary deity of tragic poets, which at first sight

seems strange; but we must bear in mind, that the former was not the god of wine and joy alone, but of the higher inspirations." Transl. Lect. iv. (now vi.) vol. i. p. 96.

(n) p. 74. Schlegel makes a remark in substance the same as this, Lect. iv. (now vi.) vol. i. p. 93: and again in Lect. ix. (now xvii.) vol. ii. pp. 165, 6. Ferner lagen zwischen, &c.

(0) p. 75. Was der duft eines südlichen Frühlings beranschendes, der Gesang der Nachtigall sehnsüchtiges, das erste Aufblühen der Rose wollustiges hat, das athmet aus diesem Gedicht. All that is intoxicating in the fragrance of a southern spring, all that is passionate in the song of the nightingale, all that is luxurious in the new-blown rose,-all alike breathe

from this poem. Transt.

Das Süsseste und das Herbeste, Liebe und Hass, &c. &c. "Whatever is sweetest and bitterest; Love and Hatred; glad festivities and gloomy resentments; tender embraces and vaults of the dead; fulness of life and self-destruction; here stand in thick array side by side; and in the harmonious miracle all these opposites are so molten into the unity of a compound impression, that the echo which the whole leaves upon the mind is like a single but endless sigh." Transl. Lect. xii. (now xxv.) vol. iii. p. 207.

(p) p. 101. "In the zephyr-like Ariel the image of the air cannot fail to be perceived; his very name expresses it, as on the other hand, Caliban signifies the hard earthly element." Transl. Lect. xii. (now xxiv.) vol. iii. p. 200. Schlegel's criticisms on The Tempest and on The Midsummer Night's Dream are especially genial and eloquent. The light rich works of fancy seem to have delighted him more, and are, perhaps, in general, more adequately characterized in his book, than those which contain more for the understanding. His view of Shakspeare, however, on the whole is most discriminating-and enhances our surprise at his partial injustice to Ben Jonson and Molière, whose faults he has noted acutely, but whose redeeming merits he does not seem to have beheld with an eye of equally fine discernment.

(q) p. 131. Mr. Collier thinks it very possible that the visions were parts of an older play. On the passage in Act i. sc. 5. he has this note.

"The numbered beach"

must be taken, as Johnson observes, for the numerous beach; and "twinned stones of the preceding line refers to the likeness, as of twins, between the stones on the beach. Coleridge would read with Farmer "umbered" for "numbered;" but, if any change were required, we should be inclined to prefer that of Theobald, “ Th' unnumbered beach." It seems to be intended to bring the multitude of similar stones on the beach into comparison with the multitude of similar stars in the sky, and this interpretation brings out "the rich crop of sea and land” into clear intelligibility. But is it meant that men's eyes can distinguish the stars above from the stones below, or the stars one from another and the stones likewise, though both are so numerous and so much alike? The grammar and construction seem to require the former sense, and yet the latter seems the best.

The passage of Act i. sc. 1. in Knight's edition stands thus:

You do not meet a man but frowns: our bloods
No more obey the heavens, than our courtiers
Still seem as does the king:"-

And is explained thus in a note: "As we have punctuated the passage, we think it presents no difficulty, Blood is used by Shakspeare for natural disposition, as in All's Well that ends Well

"Now his important blood will nought deny

That she'll demand."

The meaning of the passage then is-You do not meet a man but frowns: our bloods do not more obey the heavens than our courtiers still seem as the king seems. As is afterwards expressed

They wear their faces to the bent

Of the king's looks."