impossible. At all events, it should be compatible with sound sense and
logic in the mind of the poet himself.

It is to be lamented that we judge of books by books, instead of
referring what we read to our own experience. One great use of books is
to make their contents a motive for observation. The German tragedies
have in some respects been justly ridiculed. In them the dramatist often
becomes a novelist in his directions to the actors, and thus degrades
tragedy into pantomime. Yet still the consciousness of the poet's mind
must be diffused over that of the reader or spectator; but he himself,
according to his genius, elevates us, and by being always in keeping,
prevents us from perceiving any strangeness, though we feel great
exultation. Many different kinds of style may be admirable, both in
different men, and in different parts of the same poem.

See the different language which strong feelings may justify in Shylock,
and learn from Shakspeare's conduct of that character the terrible force
of very plain and calm diction, when known to proceed from a resolved
and impassioned man.

It is especially with reference to the drama, and its characteristics in
any given nation, or at any particular period, that the dependence of
genius on the public taste becomes a matter of the deepest importance. I
do not mean that taste which springs merely from caprice or fashionable
imitation, and which, in fact, genius can, and by degrees will, create
for itself; but that which arises out of wide-grasping and
heart-enrooted causes, which is epidemic, and in the very air that all
breathe. This it is which kills, or withers, or corrupts. Socrates,
indeed, might walk arm and arm with Hygeia, whilst pestilence, with a
thousand furies running to and fro, and clashing against each other in a