To oppose this false taste, and to counteract these unfounded opinions, is the principal object of the following observations.

They have arisen casually, and have grown to their present size rather in consequence of the course of my reading than through any methodical development of general principles. They are rather irregular collectanea for a book, than a book. Yet, I flatter myself that, even as such, they will not be wholly despised. We Germans have no lack of systematic treatises. We know, as well as any nation in the world, how, out of some granted definition, to arrange all that we want to arrange in the very best order.

Baumgarten acknowledged that he was indebted to Gesner's Dictionary for the greater portion of his examples in his treatise on Aesthetics. If my raisonnement is not as conclusive as Baumgarten's, at least my examples will savour more of the fountain head.

As I set out from Laocoon, and often return to him, I have thought it right to give him a share in the title of the work. As to other little digressions upon several points, of the ancient history of the Arts, they contribute little to my main object, and they are only allowed to remain here because I cannot hope to find a better place for them elsewhere.

I should also mention that under the name of Painting I include generally the plastic Arts; and I do not deny that under the name of Poetry I may also have had some regard to the other Arts which have the characteristic of progressive imitation.

a The word should be 'the material;' the German word is 'Gegenständen,' that is, 'the objects,' and Lessing mistook the meaning of "Yλŋ, which certainly means 'the material.' The mistake, however, in no way affects the reasoning or theory of the writer. R. P.

Plutarch, Comm. Bellone an Pace clariores fuerint Athenienses, v. 366, ed. Reiske. R. P.

I.

WINKELMAN considers that the characteristics of general excellence, which are to be found in the masterpieces of Greek painting and sculpture, consist of a noble simplicity and quiet grandeur as well in their attitude as in their expression.

'As the depths of the sea,' he says, 'always remain at rest, let the surface rage as it will, even so does the expression in the Greek figures show through all suffering a great and calm soul. This soul is pourtrayed in the countenance of Laocoon, and not in the countenance alone, notwithstanding the intense severity of his suffering. The pain which discovers itself in all the muscles and sinews of the body, and which from these only, without considering the face and other parts, we seem to perceive in the agonised expression of the belly alone; this pain, I say, expresses itself nevertheless without any torture in the face or in the general position. He utters no horrible scream as Virgil's verse makes his Laocoon utter: the opening of his mouth does not show this it is rather a subdued groan of anguish, as Sadoletb describes it. Pain of body and greatness of soul are distributed with equal strength throughout the whole figure and in equal proportions. Laocoon suffers, but he suffers like the Philoctetes of Sophocles: his

misery touches our very souls; but we desire to be able to bear suffering as this great man bears it.

'The expression of so great a soul goes far beyond a representation of natural beauty. The Artist must have felt in himself the strength of the soul which he has impressed upon his marble. Greece had artists and philosophers blended in one person, and more than one Metrodorus. Philosophy gave her hand to Art, and breathed into the forms of it no common soul,' etc.

The observation which lies at the foundation of this theory, namely, that pain does not show itself in the countenance of Laocoon with that furious vehemence, which from the intensity of it we should expect, is perfectly true. It is also indisputable that in this respect where a man of half knowledge would pronounce that the Artist had not attained to nature and had not reached the true pathos of suffering: in this very respect, I say, the wisdom of the observation, is most clearly manifest.

It is only as to the fundamental reason on which Winkelman founds this wise observation, and as to the generality of the rule which he extracts from this fundamental reason that I venture to differ from him.

I confess that the unfavourable side glance which he casts upon Virgil startled me at first, and in the next place the comparison with Philoctetes. From this I will take my point of departure, and write down my thoughts in the order in which they have been developed.

'Laocoon suffers like the Philoctetes of Sophocles.' How does he suffer? It is strange that his sufferings have left so different an impression upon

us. The lamentations, the screams, the wild curses with which his pain filled the camp, and disturbed all the sacrifices, all the holy acts, resounded no less dreadfully in the desert island, and were the cause. of his being banished to it. What tones of dejection, misery, and despair, with the imitation of which the Poet caused the theatre to resound. The third Act of this piece has been discovered to be much shorter than the others; a plain proof, say the critics, that the Ancients troubled themselves very little about the equal length of the Acts. That I too believe; but I should prefer to found my belief upon another example. The piteous exclamations, the moaning, the broken off à â φεῦ ἀτταται ὦ μοί μοί; whole lines full of πάπα παπά, οι which this Act consists, and which must have been declaimed with other prolongations and pauses than would be needed for a continuous reading, have in the representation of this Act, doubtless caused it to continue as long as the others. It appears much shorter on paper to the reader than it would have appeared to the spectators.

To scream is the natural expression of bodily pain. Homer's wounded warriors not unfrequently fall with a scream to the earth. The wounded Venus screams loudly, not in order that by this scream she may ap pear as the soft goddess of pleasure, but rather to give her a right to a suffering nature. For even the brazen Mars, when he felt the lance of Diomede, shrieks as dreadfully as ten thousand raging warriors would shriek at once-so dreadfully that both armies were terrified s.

High as Homer exalts his heroes above human