Chapter III · (continued 2)

It is somewhat in this way nowadays that any and every form and material may prove of service to and under the control of the artist whose executive talents and genius have been liberated in their independence from the former limitation to a specific mode of artistic work.

(γ) If we ask, then, in conclusion what are the content and the modes which may be considered peculiar to the present sphere of our inquiry, the result will be approximately as follows.

The universal types of art were pre-eminently related to the absolute truth to which Art attains, and they discovered the source of their differentiation in the specific grasp they respectively supplied of that which passed for the Absolute in the human consciousness, and which itself carried the principle of its manner of embodiment. In this respect we have already seen in symbolism Nature's significances pass before us as content, and her facts and human personification as the mode of presentation; similarly in the classical type, we have passed in review spiritual individuality, but as bodily presence which carried no memory with it[326], and over which the abstract necessity of Fate stood paramount. In the romantic the intellectual being of the personal consciousness was asserted inherent in its own substance, and for the inmost content of which the external form remained entirely contingent. In this concluding type as in the earlier ones the object of art was the Divine in its explicitly unfolded nature. This Divine had however to make itself an object, to define itself, and in the process to pass from its own immediate substance to the secular content of the personal consciousness. In the first instance the infinite essence of personality was reposed in honour, love, and fidelity; after that in the particular individuality, the specific character which happened to coalesce with the particular mode of human life in question. This coalescence, together with the specific limitation of content appropriate to such, was finally put an end to by humour, which proved itself capable of dissolving or making pliable to its purpose any or every line of stable definition, and by so doing made it possible for art to transcend its own limitations. In this passing away of Art beyond itself, however, Art is quite as truly the return of man upon himself, a descent into his own soul-depths, by which process art strips off from itself every secure barrier set up by a determinate range of content and conception, and unfolds within our common humanity[327] its new holy of holies, in other words the depths and heights of the human soul simply, the universal shared of all men in joy and suffering, in endeavour, action, and destiny. From this point onwards it is from himself that the artist receives his content, is in truth the Spirit of man assigning to himself his own boundaries, contemplating, experiencing and giving utterance to the infinitude of his emotions and situations, a spirit to which nothing is any more alien which can possibly emanate as life from the human soul. A content of this nature is one which cannot persist under the defined modes of art independent and apart from the activity of the artist. Rather the definition of content and its elaboration is transferred by it to the caprice of his invention. But, despite of this, it excludes no vital interest, because Art is no longer under constraint to represent that, and only that, which is completely at home in one of its specific grades. Everything is now possible as its subject-matter, in which man, on whatever plane of life he may be, possesses either the need or the capacity of making his abode.

Confronted with a material of such a wide range and multiplicity, it is above all of first importance that in respect to the mode of artistic treatment the Spirit that is now active in our present life should throughout declare itself as such. Our modern artist may no doubt join the company of ancients and elders. It is a fine thing to be one of the Homerides, though we stand last of the line; pictures, too, that reflect for us once again the atmosphere of romantic art in the Middle Ages will have a worth of their own. But this universal sufficiency, depth, and unique suitability of a given material such as we above described is another thing altogether, and equally so its mode of presentation. Neither Homer, Sophocles, Dante, Ariosto, nor Shakespeare can reappear in our times. What has been sung so greatly, what has been expressed with such freedom, has been sung and expressed once for all. Only the Present blows fresh; all else is faded and more faded. In the matter of history we must fain make it something of a reproach to the French, and we may add to it a criticism on the score of beauty, that they have presented on their stage Greek and Roman heroes, Chinese, and Peruvians as so many French princes and princesses, and moreover have given them the motives and views peculiar to the age of Louis XIV or Louis XV. Yet, after all, had these very motives and opinions only been intrinsically deeper and more beautiful than they are we should have had little fault to find in the fact that the Past is here translated into Art's present life. On the contrary all material whatsoever, it matters not from what age or nation it hails, only retains its truth for art as part of this vital and actual Present, in which it floods the human heart with the reflected image of its own life, and brings truth home to man's senses and mind. It is just this revelation and renewed activity of that humanity which is immortal in all its varied significance and infinite reconstruction, which, in this its receptacle of human situations and emotions, forms the possible no less than the absolute content of the art of our time.

If we now take a glance back, having established in a general way the content which distinguishes the subject-matter of this portion of our inquiry, at that which we finally considered to be the modes of romantic art's dissolution, we may recall the fact that we then defined them under a term applicable to all, as the falling to pieces of Art, a process which, in one of its aspects, was due to an imitation of the objects of Nature in all the detail of their contingent appearance, and in another was referable to humour, that unfettered activity of the individual soul in all its capricious mastery. In conclusion, we may still draw attention to a further way of fixing on our minds that terminus of romantic art without prejudice to our previous remarks upon it. In other words, just as in our advance from symbolism to classical art, we considered the transitional forms of image, simile, and epigram, we have also here in romantic art a form somewhat similar worthy of attention. In those previous modes of conception the important thing was the falling asunder of the spiritual significance and the external form, a severation which in part was cancelled by the activity of the artist's own mind, and in the exceptional case of the epigram could possibly be converted into complete identity. Romantic art was from the beginning the profounder disunion of that inmost soul-life which finds its satisfaction in its own wealth, which, moreover, for the reason that generally the objective world does not completely satisfy the demand of Spirit essentially as such, persisted in its discordance with or indifference to it. This opposition in the evolution of romantic art finally led us perforce to the point where we found that the interest was exclusively centered on the contingent aspects of externality, or the equally capricious activity of the soul. When, however, this exclusive attention to either side, whether it be the externality or purely personal presentment, agreeably to the main principle of romantic art, is carried so far that it becomes a real penetration of the soul within the object, and the aspect of humour in its relation to the object and its embodiment within the sphere of its own individual reaction[328] assumes a real importance, in that case we are face to face with what is a coalescence[329] with the object, and is nothing less than an objective humour. Such a coalescence, however, can only be of limited range, and find expression merely, say, within a lyric, or at most in but a portion of a larger composition. For if its boundaries widened, and it was carried throughout the object-matter in question, it would necessarily become identical with the action and event, become, in short, a completely objective representation. What we have to consider here is rather a sensitive self-abandonment of the artist's soul in his object, which no doubt is unfolded in some kind of process, but nevertheless remains a movement of the imagination and heart indicative rather of individual genius; a caprice in some sort, and yet not entirely capricious or intentional, but rather a sympathetic expansion of the artist's genius, which devotes itself solely to its subject-matter, and makes it exclusively its interest and content.

We may usefully compare with such a spirit the last blooms of the ancient Greek epigram, in which this type appears in its first and simplest features. The mode we have here in our mind is in the first instance apparent when the reference to the object is not a mere statement of fact, is not merely an inscription or transcript which states what the object is, but is associated with a deeper emotion, a sleight of witticism, an ingenious fancy, or a real flash of imaginative power, any or all of which through their poetical grasp give life to and expand the minutest detail. Poems of this description, it matters little what their subject-matter may be, whether a tree, a mill-stream, spring, dead things or alive, are of infinite variety and may be found in the literature of all nations. They are, however, a subordinate grade of poetry, and very readily come off halting. For at least in a country of cultivated speech and reflection there are few objects and conditions, indeed, which will not offer some further link of association to every man. And just as the average man thinks himself qualified to write a letter he will rate his capacity to express such ideas. One is very easily tired of a universal spirit of sing-song such as this, even though a stray novelty of touch may be here and there thrown in. The importance of such a class of composition, therefore, depends almost entirely on the question how far the artist's soul, with its full intensity of life, and with a spiritual and intellectual wealth that is both profound and extensive, has without reserve entered vitally into such conditions, situations, and so forth; has made a home there, and from the object in question created something unseen before, something beautiful, something essentially worth our attention.

To this end the Persians and Arabians pre-eminently in the oriental splendour of their images, in the unfettered enjoyment of their imagination, which enters into the being of its subject-matter in the purest spirit of contemplation, offer, even for present times and our own intensity of spiritual penetration, a glorious exemplar. Both the Spaniards and Italians, too, have done excellent things in the same direction. It is true that Klopstock says of Petrarch:

—Laura besang Petrarca in Liedern, Zwar dem Bewunderer schön, aber dem Liebenden nicht[330].

but Klopstock's own love-odes are themselves full of moral reflections, troubled yearning and passion that is for ever writhing after immortality of happiness. What we admire most in Petrarch is the free atmosphere of essentially noble emotion, which, however much it expresses the longing for the beloved, can none the less repose on its own heart. For this kind of longing, indeed sensual desire itself, is far from being absent in the range of the art we now are considering, when the subject is restricted to wine and love, the tavern and the glass; the excessive voluptuousness of the images of Persian writers themselves are in fact an illustration of this; but in this case the imagination, in the interest it possesses for the intelligence, removes the object entirely from the sphere of desire which has a practical aim. It possesses an interest merely in the realm of its own exuberant activity, finding its delight freely in its own countless freaks and fancies, and making joys and griefs alike the subject of its sport Among our modern poets the two who preeminently combine a similar buoyancy of genius with a more intimate and spiritually searching depth of imagination are Goethe in his "Westöstlicher Divan" and Rückert. The essential contrast between Goethe's poetry in the "Divan" and his more early efforts is quite remarkable. In his "Welcome and Farewell," for instance, the language and description are no doubt fine in their way, true feeling is there. In other respects the situation is commonplace, the climax is poor, and of imagination in the full and free sense there is no further trace. The poem in the "Divan" entitled "Recovery"[331] is composed in a totally different spirit. Love is here wholly absorbed in the imagination, and the movement, happiness, and bliss of the latter are throughout predominant. And, to speak generally of artistic productions of this class, we may affirm that we find in them no personal craving, no indications of enamourment, no mere desire, but a pure delight in the objects delineated, an inexhaustible self-absorption of imagination, an innocent play, a free surrender to the coquettish humours even of rhyme and ingenious versification; and withal an intense jubilation of the soul in its own free movement, a spirit, which, by means of this very exhilaration induced by artistic form[332] lifts the soul high above all its painful perplexity into the ordered limits of the real.

And here we must close our consideration of the particular types according to which the Ideal of art throughout its process is self-differentiated. We have made these several modes the subject of a more extensive inquiry, with a view to unfolding the content of the same, a content from which the proper modes of artistic presentment are themselves also deducible. For in Art, too, as in all other human production, it is the content which is finally decisive. In fact Art, if we consider the true notion of it, has one and only one supreme function. It has to set forth in adequate form, within the grasp of our actual senses, what is itself essential content; and the Philosophy of Art should consequently regard it as its main business to comprehend in Thought what this abundance of content and its beautiful mode of manifestation verily is.

END OF VOL. II

INDEX Accompaniment, Music as, iii, 377-379, 413-418; of human voice, iii, 383. Aeschylus, reference to the "Agamemnon," i, 285; to the "Eumenides," i, 302, 303, 372; ii, 213-215, 223; iv, 306, 324; to the "Coephorae," and the "Seven before Thebes," iv, 318; change of scene in his dramas, iv, 257; universal powers in dramas, i, 377; char acter of Clytemnaestra, ii, 345. Aesop, Fables of, ii, 115. Anacreon, odes of, iv, 203, 233. Aphrodite, description of, iii, 185. Architecture, types of classical, iii, 80-90; Roman, iii, 87-88; Gothic, iii, 91-104; Byzantine, iii, 105. Aristophanes, subject-matter of his comedies, iv, 277, 283, 304, 329; himself an actor, iv, 286; his "Ecclesiazusae," iv, 303. Aristotle, reference to the "Poetics," i, 19; on tragedy, i, 283; on use of simile, ii, 143; proper subject of tragedy, iv, 131; on unities of time and place, iv, 256. Artist, as executant, iii, 426-430. Athene, nature of as goddess of Athens, iv, 325. Bach, J. S., supreme master of ecclesiastical music, iii, 419. Beethoven, L. van, soul-release in art's freedom, iii, 349; symphonies of, iii, 355 n. Bosanquet, B., references to translation of Hegel's Introduction by in present translator's notes, i, 28, 29, 31, 32, 37, 40, 45, 52, 65, 66, 68, 69, 71, 73, 76, 88, 93, 96, 100, 108, 109, 116, 181. Bradley, A. C., reference to Lectures on Poetry, i, 265 n. Bradley, F. H., i, 73, 96 n. Brahman, supreme godhead in Hindu theosophy, ii, 50-61, 91. Calderon, quotation from, ii, 142; comparisons of, ii, 149. Camoens, the "Lysiad" of, iv, 190. Cervantes, type of comedy in "Don Quixote," i, 262; ii, 374; dissolution of chivalry as depicted by Cervantes and Ariosto, ii, 373. Chivalry, general description of, iv, 185-187. Chorus, Greek, nature of, iv, 315-317. Cid, the Spanish poem of the, description of, iv, 182; heroic personality of the, ii, 348; iv, 138-140; nature of collision in, i, 321. Columns, Greek, iii, 69-76; orders of, iii, 82-85; on the Greek temple generally, iii, 79. Creutzer, his work on symbolism, iii, 17, 18; affinity of Egyptian and Hellenic art on coins, iii, 203. See also ii, 138; iii, 39, 41. Cuvier, analytical power of, i, 176. Dante, conciseness of, i, 350; allegory in, ii, 19; on the love of Beatrice, iii, 340; description of the damned, iii, 319; the "Divine Comedy" contrasted with "Æneid" and "Odyssey" as epical narrative, iv, 163; general description of "Divine Comedy," iv, 184. Denner, realistic portraits of, iii, 270. Destiny, supreme significance of in Epos, iv, 144; fate in tragedy, iv, 312, 322; as necessity, iv, 254. See also particularly as to Greek art, ii, 261-264. Drapery. See under Sculpture. Dutch School, description of, i, 228-230; ii, 382-386; iii, 334-337; landscape in art of, i, 397; colouring of, iii, 276. Einbildungskraft, meaning of as distinct from Phantasie and Vorstellung, i, 55 n., 62 n., 381 n. Euripides, the "Alcestis" of, i, 275; treatment of love in the Phedra, iii, 340; transition of drama of to sentimental pathos, iv, 321. Eyck, H. van, supreme concep tion of God the Father, iii, 252; his picture of the Madonna, iii, 255; his "Adoration," iii, 262; description of brothers Hubert and John, iii, 330. Ferdusi, "Shahrameh" of, i, 251, 277. Fichte, his position in history of Aesthetic Philosophy, i, 89-91. Flesh-colour, nature of, in painting, iii, 285. Giotto, reforms of, in painting, iii, 322. Goethe, definition of the beautiful by, i, 21, 36-38, 91; reference to his "Iphigeneia," i, 262, 304-306, 373; iv, 307; to "Faust," iv, 333; to his Tasso, iv, 307; to "Hermann and Dorothea," i, 256, 353; to "Werther," i, 271, 321; to the "Bride of Corinth," ii, 270; to the "Westöstlicher Divan," i, 372; ii, 96, 400; iv, 233; to "Dichtung und Wahrheit," iii, 289; to the "King of Thule," ii, 363; his "Mignon," iii, 298; his theory of colour, i, 117 n.; on the innate reason of nature, i, 179; Goethe on Hamlet, i, 307; ii, 364; his pathos contrasted with that of Schiller, i, 313; rivalry of with Shakespeare, iv, 338; quotation from Goetz von Berlichengen, i, 366; the ripeness of his maturity, i, 384; on Gothic architecture, iii, 76; Xenien of, ii, 145; on harmonious colouring, iii, 283; supreme quality of folk-songs of, 386; songs of comradeship, iv, 205; prose in his dramas, iv, 71; imitation of Icelandic, iv, 208; as a Lyric poet generally, iv, 217. Greek art, origin of in freedom, ii, 183; content of, ii, 184-186; Gods of, ii, 224-228; iii, 183-186, 188; absence of the sublime in, ii, 237; incapable of repetition, iii, 396; Greek epigrams, ii, 398; character of dramatis personae in Greek art, iv, 317-320. Greek chorus. See under Chorus. Greek mysteries. See under Mysteries. Greek oracles. See under Oracles, Hafis, Lyrics of, iv, 237; quotation from, ii, 94, 95, 147. Helmholtz, researches of in music, iii, 390 n. Herder, his conception of Folkslied, i, 364. Herodotus, statement of as to Homer and Hesiod, ii, 190, 231; his account of temple of Belus, iii, 37; date of his history's commencement, iv, 39; on battle of Thermopylae, iv, 23; as general authority for Egyptian history and art, see vol. iii, ch. i. Hesiod, mythology of, ii, 63, 64, 167, 216; reference to his "Works and Days," iv, 108. Hindoos, architecture of, iii, 48-51; religion of, ii, 47-64. Hippel, humour of his "Life's Careers," ii, 365. Hirt, connoisseur, his emphasis on the characteristic, i, 22-24; on origins of architecture, iii, 27; on Memnons, iii, 41; on the original materials of building, iii, 66. Homer, vividness of his characterization, i, 225, 235; the heroes of, i, 250; starting-point of Iliad in wrath of Achilles, i, 290; iv, 30, 156, 167; hero as focus of many traits, i, 316; landscape in, i, 341; iv, 123, 154; type of society in Iliad, i, 352, 377; whether personal experience of poet, i, 357; iv, 122; his use of simile, ii, 154; quotations from the Iliad, ii, 154, 155; sacrifices in the Iliad, ii, 192; unity of Homeric god-world, ii, 219; human motives defined through god's action, ii, 234, 235; freedom of Greek gods in, ii, 239; individuality of gods in, ii, 242-258; poet later than the Trojan war, iv, 124. Horace, Ars Poetica of, i, 19, 69; artificial character of his Odes, iv, 229. Iffland, reference to, iv, 290, 344; superficial quality of, ii, 381. Immortality, contrast of conception in Pagan and Christian thought, ii, 287-290. Irony, the views of Schlegel, Solger and Tieck on, i, 90-94; iv, 271. Jacobi, the "Woldemar" of, i, 322. Kant, Immanuel, relation of his philosophy to Philosophy of Aesthetik, i, 78-84, 149, 154 n.; on the sublime, iii, 86, 87. Klopstock, his rank as an Epic poet, iv, 150-152; his personality, iv, 216, 244, 245; partly artificial enthusiasm, iv, 229. Kotzebue, popular effects of, i, 362; superficial rapidity of, ii, 381; bad composition of, iv, 290; ethical baseness of, iv, 304. Landscape gardening, i, 332-333 Laocoon, statue group, iii, 191. Lessing, his introduction of prose into drama, iv, 71; didactic drama of, iv, 277. Libretto, nature of good, iii, 355-357. Light, the nature of as an element, ii, 225-226. Longinus, his Essay on the Sublime, i, 19. Lötze, See i, 82 n. Luther. See ii, 13. Memnons, iii, 41-43. Meredith, George, i, 36 n., 216 n.; ii, 339 n.; iv, 347 n. Michelangelo, his power to depict devils, iii, 307. See also, i, 224 n.; iii, 27 n. Molière, character of comedies of, iv, 345-347. Mozart, example of precocity, i, 37 n.; symphonies of, iii, 385; Libretto of his "Magic Flute," iii, 415; just mean of splendour in opera, iv, 291. Mysteries, Greek, ii, 221. Natural, the natural in art as distinct from the barbarous or childish, iii, 6-8; natural diction in Lessing, Goethe and Schiller, iv, 265-267. Oracles, Greek, ii, 205-208. Originality, nature of in art, i, 394-405. Ossian, character of his heroes, i, 343; similes of, ii, 151, 153; authorship of, iv, 146, 180. See also iv, 114, 127. Ovid, Metamorphoses of, ii, 126; similes of, ii, 152, 198. Pathos, nature of, i, 308-325; pathos of drama, iv, 265; that of Goethe and Schiller compared, i, 313. Pheidias, school of, i, 235; materials used by, iii, 199; the plastic ideal of, iii, 133; Elgin marbles, iii, 138; the "Zeus" of, iii, 117, 184. Pindar, Odes of as occasional, i, 271; his odes compared with elegies of Callinus and Tyrtaeus, iv, 201; Pythian priestess on his merit, iv, 216; enthusiasm of, iv, 229; his creative gift, iv, 241. Plastic, personality, of Greeks, as Pericles, Pheidias and Sophocles, iii, 133. Plato, relation of his philosophy to the universal concept or notion, i, 27, 28, 197; his relation to art generally, i, 141; citation from, i, 210; his use of simile, ii. 143. Portraiture, in painting, iii, 307-311. Praxiteles, iii, 190. Prometheus, ii, 209-215. Psalms, Hebrew, general character of, i, 378; illustrate the sublime, ii, 102-104; iv, 226-228. Pyramids, the, iii, 55. Racine, the "Esther" of, i, 361; his Phèdre, i, 321. Ramajana, the, episodes from, ii, 51-53, 61. See also iv, 110, 112, 165, 175. Raphael, general references to, i, 37, 212, 380, 385; possesses "great" manner with Homer and Shakespeare, i, 405; his Madonna pictures, iii, 227; cartoons of, iii, 242; mythological subjects, iii, 245; his "Sistine Madonna," iii, 255, 262, 304; his "School of Athens," iii, 254; vitality of drawings of, iii, 275; perfection of technique, iii, 328; translator's criticism on extreme praise of Raphael and Correggio, iii, 329 n. Reni, Guido, sentimental mannerisms of, iii, 264. Richter, J. P., Kaleidoscopic effects of, i, 402; sentimentalism of, ii, 365; humour of compared with Sterne's, ii, 387. Rösel, Author of "Diversions of Insect life," i, 59. Rumohr, von, Author on Aesthetic Philosophy, i, 148, 232; on style, i, 399; on Italian painters and in particular, Duccio, Cimabue, Giotto, Masaccio, Fra Angelico, Perugino, Raphael and Correggio, iii, 316-330. Ruskin, J., i, 62 n., 72 n., 230 n. Sachs, Hans, religious familiarity of, i, 359. Satire, in Plautus and Terence, ii, 277; iv, 305; in Sallust and Tacitus, ii, 278; not successful in modern times, ii, 279; belongs to third type after tragic and comic drama, iv, 305. Schelling, Art Philosophy of, iii, 23 n. Schiller, rawness of early work, iii, 38; his "Letters on Aesthetic," i, 84-86; quotation from, i, 214; reference to "Braut von Messina," i, 258; to "Kabale und Liebe," i, 261; iv, 333; to Wallenstein," iv, 288; to the "Maid of Orleans," i, 261; iv, 291, 339; extreme scenic effect of the latter drama, iv, 291; narrative too epical in same drama, iv, 161; reference to "Wilhelm Tell," i, 379; pathos of Schiller, i, 394; his use of metaphor, ii, 144; attitude to Christianity, ii, 268; profundity of, iii, 414; character of his songs, iv, 207, 239; his criticism of Goethe's Iphigeneia, iv, 275; leaves much to actor, iv, 288. Schlegel, F. von, Aesthetic theory of, i, 87-89; art as allegory, ii, 134; statement of, that architecture is frozen music, iii, 65. Sculpture, drapery of, iii, 165-171; materials of, iii, 195-201; Egyptian, iii, 203-210; Etruscan, iii, 211; Christian, iii, 213; the Laocoon group, iii, 178-191; soul-suffering of, iii, 256. Shakespeare, William, materials of his dramas, i, 255, 324; reference to drama "Macbeth," i, 277; to Lady Macbeth, i, 324; to witches of "Macbeth," i, 307; ii, 366; to "Macbeth," iv, 337, 341; to "Hamlet," ii, 378; iv, 334, 342; to "Othello," iv, 337; to "Falstaff," ii, 375; to tragedy of "Othello," i, 283; to "King Lear," i, 296; to "Romeo and Juliet," i, 319; iv, 342; to "Richard III," iv, 341; the clowns of, i, 320; the fool in "King Lear," ii, 375; quotations from "Richard II," ii, 141, 159; from "Romeo and Juliet," ii, 153; from "Henry IV," ii, 158; from "Henry VIII," ii, 159, 160; from "Julius Caesar," ii, 260; from "Macbeth," ii, 160; from "Anthony and Cleopatra," ii, 161; mythical material of dramas, i, 351 n.; his historical dramas, i, 374; his use of metaphor, ii, 144, 156; the fidelity of Kent in "King Lear," ii, 346; self-consistency of characters, ii, 356-358; iv, 340; intelligence of vulgar characters, ii, 366, 375; subsidiary interest of part of material in dramas, iv, 260; vitality of characterization, iv, 274, and in particular, iv, 337; superiority in modern comedy, iv, 348. Sophocles, reference to the "Philoctetes," i, 275, 301; iv, 306; to "Œdipus Rex," i, 276; iv, 319; to the "Antigone," i, 293; ii, 215; iv, 318; to "Œdipus Coloneus," ii, 222; iv, 319; to the "Electra," iv, 318; the choruses of, i, 371; no unity of place in the "Ajax," iv, 257; quotation from "Œdipus Coloneus," ii, 222; treatment of love in the "Antigone," ii, 339; praise of the "Antigone" as work of art, iv, 324; the "Œdipus Coloneus" as a drama of reconciliation, iv, 325. Style, significant of vitality, iii, 9; the beautiful style, iii, 10; the great style, ii, 400; educated style of Roman poetry, iii, 11. Tasso, his "Jerusalem Liberated," iv, 141. See also iv, 132, 149, 159, 189, and for Goethe's play under head of Goethe. Thorwaldsen, the "Mercury" of, i, 270. Tieck, novels of, ii, 167; and for both Tieck and Solger under "Irony." Van-Dyck, the portraiture of described, iii, 292. Velasquez, reference to Turner and Velasquez, i, 336 n. See also iii, 337 n. Vergil, artifice of V. and Horace, iv, 69; eclogues of compared with idylls of Theocritus, iv, 170. The "Æneid" as a national Epos, iv, 179. Versification, rhythmical of ancients discussed, iv, 81-84. That of rhyme compared, iv, 84-98. Vishnu, the Conserver of Life in Hindoo theosophy, iii, 52; second Deity in triune Trimûrtis with Brahman and Sivas, ii, 59. Voltaire, contrasted with Shakespeare, i, 313; his "Henriad," iv, 132; his "Tancred" and "Mahomet," iv, 290. Watts, George, R.A., flesh colour of, i, 337 n.; relation to symbolism, ii, 27 n. Weber, his "Oberon" and "Freischütz," i, 216. Winckelmann, on Greek sculpture, iii, 138, 150-155, 172-176, 182, 184; on Greek coins, iii, 181. Zend-Avesta, light-doctrine of, ii, 37-44; cultus of, ii, 44.