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Of Ground Targets and Backgrounds 5309486

The document is an ebook titled 'Thermal Infrared Characterization of Ground Targets and Backgrounds' by Pieter Jacobs, which focuses on the principles and applications of thermal infrared sensing and characterization. It includes detailed discussions on sensor systems, radiation terminology, target detection, heat transfer theory, and calibration procedures. The ebook is part of a series aimed at providing comprehensive educational resources in optical engineering.

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100% found this document useful (2 votes)
33 views57 pages

Of Ground Targets and Backgrounds 5309486

The document is an ebook titled 'Thermal Infrared Characterization of Ground Targets and Backgrounds' by Pieter Jacobs, which focuses on the principles and applications of thermal infrared sensing and characterization. It includes detailed discussions on sensor systems, radiation terminology, target detection, heat transfer theory, and calibration procedures. The ebook is part of a series aimed at providing comprehensive educational resources in optical engineering.

Uploaded by

konstgodoyem
Copyright
© © All Rights Reserved
We take content rights seriously. If you suspect this is your content, claim it here.
Available Formats
Download as PDF, TXT or read online on Scribd
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Tutorial Texts Series
• Thermal Infrared Characterization of Ground Targets and Backgrounds, Second Edition, Pieter A. Jacobs,
Vol. TT70
• Introduction to Confocal Fluorescence Microscopy, Michiel Müller, Vol. TT69
• Artificial Neural Networks An Introduction, Kevin L. Priddy and Paul E. Keller, Vol. TT68
• Basics of Code Division Multiple Access (CDMA), Raghuveer Rao and Sohail Dianat, Vol. TT67
• Optical Imaging in Projection Microlithography, Alfred Kwok-Kit Wong, Vol. TT66
• Metrics for High-Quality Specular Surfaces, Lionel R. Baker, Vol. TT65
• Field Mathematics for Electromagnetics, Photonics, and Materials Science, Bernard Maxum, Vol. TT64
• High-Fidelity Medical Imaging Displays, Aldo Badano, Michael J. Flynn, and Jerzy Kanicki, Vol. TT63
• Diffractive Optics–Design, Fabrication, and Test, Donald C. O’Shea, Thomas J. Suleski, Alan D.
Kathman, and Dennis W. Prather, Vol. TT62
• Fourier-Transform Spectroscopy Instrumentation Engineering, Vidi Saptari, Vol. TT61
• The Power- and Energy-Handling Capability of Optical Materials, Components, and Systems, Roger M.
Wood, Vol. TT60
• Hands-on Morphological Image Processing, Edward R. Dougherty, Roberto A. Lotufo, Vol. TT59
• Integrated Optomechanical Analysis, Keith B. Doyle, Victor L. Genberg, Gregory J. Michels, Vol. TT58
• Thin-Film Design Modulated Thickness and Other Stopband Design Methods, Bruce Perilloux, Vol. TT57
• Optische Grundlagen für Infrarotsysteme, Max J. Riedl, Vol. TT56
• An Engineering Introduction to Biotechnology, J. Patrick Fitch, Vol. TT55
• Image Performance in CRT Displays, Kenneth Compton, Vol. TT54
• Introduction to Laser Diode-Pumped Solid State Lasers, Richard Scheps, Vol. TT53
• Modulation Transfer Function in Optical and Electro-Optical Systems, Glenn D. Boreman, Vol. TT52
• Uncooled Thermal Imaging Arrays, Systems, and Applications, Paul W. Kruse, Vol. TT51
• Fundamentals of Antennas, Christos G. Christodoulou and Parveen Wahid, Vol. TT50
• Basics of Spectroscopy, David W. Ball, Vol. TT49
• Optical Design Fundamentals for Infrared Systems, Second Edition, Max J. Riedl, Vol. TT48
• Resolution Enhancement Techniques in Optical Lithography, Alfred Kwok-Kit Wong, Vol. TT47
• Copper Interconnect Technology, Christoph Steinbrüchel and Barry L. Chin, Vol. TT46
• Optical Design for Visual Systems, Bruce H. Walker, Vol. TT45
• Fundamentals of Contamination Control, Alan C. Tribble, Vol. TT44
• Evolutionary Computation Principles and Practice for Signal Processing, David Fogel, Vol. TT43
• Infrared Optics and Zoom Lenses, Allen Mann, Vol. TT42
• Introduction to Adaptive Optics, Robert K. Tyson, Vol. TT41
• Fractal and Wavelet Image Compression Techniques, Stephen Welstead, Vol. TT40
• Analysis of Sampled Imaging Systems, R. H. Vollmerhausen and R. G. Driggers, Vol. TT39
• Tissue Optics Light Scattering Methods and Instruments for Medical Diagnosis, Valery Tuchin, Vol. TT38
• Fundamentos de Electro-Óptica para Ingenieros, Glenn D. Boreman, translated by Javier Alda, Vol. TT37
• Infrared Design Examples, William L. Wolfe, Vol. TT36
• Sensor and Data Fusion Concepts and Applications, Second Edition, L. A. Klein, Vol. TT35
• Practical Applications of Infrared Thermal Sensing and Imaging Equipment, Second Edition, Herbert
Kaplan, Vol. TT34
• Fundamentals of Machine Vision, Harley R. Myler, Vol. TT33
• Design and Mounting of Prisms and Small Mirrors in Optical Instruments, Paul R. Yoder, Jr., Vol. TT32
• Basic Electro-Optics for Electrical Engineers, Glenn D. Boreman, Vol. TT31
• Optical Engineering Fundamentals, Bruce H. Walker, Vol. TT30
• Introduction to Radiometry, William L. Wolfe, Vol. TT29
• Lithography Process Control, Harry J. Levinson, Vol. TT28
• An Introduction to Interpretation of Graphic Images, Sergey Ablameyko, Vol. TT27
Tutorial Texts in Optical Engineering
Volume TT70

Bellingham, Washington USA


The Library of Congress has catalogued the earlier edition as follows:

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Jacobs, Pieter A.
Thermal infrared characterization of ground targets and backgrounds / Pieter A. Jacobs.
p. cm. – (Tutorial texts in optical engineering : v. TT 26)
Includes bibliographical references and index.
ISBN 0-8194-2180-4 (softcover)
1. Infrared detectors. 2. Target acquisition. 3. Heat––Radiation and absorption. I. Title. II.
Series.

TA1570.J33 1996
621.36'72––dc20 96-10613
CIP

2nd Edition ISBN 0-8194-6082-6

Published by

SPIE—The International Society for Optical Engineering


P.O. Box 10
Bellingham, Washington 98227-0010 USA
Phone: +1 360 676 3290
Fax: +1 360 647 1445
Email: [email protected]
Web: http://spie.org

Copyright © 2006 The Society of Photo-Optical Instrumentation Engineers

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or distributed


in any form or by any means without written permission of the publisher.

The content of this book reflects the work and thought of the author(s).
Every effort has been made to publish reliable and accurate information herein,
but the publisher is not responsible for the validity of the information or for any
outcomes resulting from reliance thereon.

Printed in the United States of America.


Introduction to the Series
Since its conception in 1989, the Tutorial Texts series has grown to more than 60
titles covering many diverse fields of science and engineering. When the series
was started, the goal of the series was to provide a way to make the material
presented in SPIE short courses available to those who could not attend, and to
provide a reference text for those who could. Many of the texts in this series are
generated from notes that were presented during these short courses. But as
stand-alone documents, short course notes do not generally serve the student or
reader well. Short course notes typically are developed on the assumption that
supporting material will be presented verbally to complement the notes, which
are generally written in summary form to highlight key technical topics and
therefore are not intended as stand-alone documents. Additionally, the figures,
tables, and other graphically formatted information accompanying the notes
require the further explanation given during the instructor’s lecture. Thus, by
adding the appropriate detail presented during the lecture, the course material can
be read and used independently in a tutorial fashion.

What separates the books in this series from other technical monographs and
textbooks is the way in which the material is presented. To keep in line with the
tutorial nature of the series, many of the topics presented in these texts are
followed by detailed examples that further explain the concepts presented. Many
pictures and illustrations are included with each text and, where appropriate,
tabular reference data are also included.

The topics within the series have grown from the initial areas of geometrical
optics, optical detectors, and image processing to include the emerging fields of
nanotechnology, biomedical optics, and micromachining. When a proposal for a
text is received, each proposal is evaluated to determine the relevance of the
proposed topic. This initial reviewing process has been very helpful to authors in
identifying, early in the writing process, the need for additional material or other
changes in approach that would serve to strengthen the text. Once a manuscript is
completed, it is peer reviewed to ensure that chapters communicate accurately the
essential ingredients of the processes and technologies under discussion.

It is my goal to maintain the style and quality of books in the series, and to
further expand the topic areas to include new emerging fields as they become of
interest to our reading audience.

Arthur R. Weeks, Jr.


University of Central Florida
Contents

Introduction ix

1 Sensor Systems 1
1.1 Active Sensor Systems 1
1.2 Passive Sensor Systems 3
1.3 Active Versus Passive Sensor Systems 5
References 6

2 Radiation Terminology and Units 7


2.1 Definitions and Spatial Relationships 7
2.1.1 Blackbody radiation 7
2.1.2 Blackbody spectral emittance: Planck’s radiation law 8
2.1.3 Wein displacement law 9
2.1.4 Stefan-Boltzmann law 9
2.1.5 Gray bodies 10
2.2 Intrinsic Radiation Terms 10
2.3 Atmospheric Propagation 12
2.4 Range-Dependent Radiation Terms 13
2.5 Target-to-Background Contrast 14
References 15

3 Introduction to Target Detection 17


3.1 IR Detection Process 17
3.1.1 Target-to-background radiation contrast 17
3.1.2 Attenuation processes 18
3.1.3 IR systems 18
3.1.4 Detection system 21
3.2 Point Target Detection 22
3.3 Extended Target 23
3.4 Signature Variations 24
3.5 Thermal Contrast Considerations 27
References 28
vii
viii Contents

4 Theory of Heat and Mass Transfer 29


4.1 Surface-Atmospheric Boundary Layer 29
4.2 Heat and Mass Transfer 31
4.3 The Heat-Balance Equation 35
4.3.1 Solar heating 36
4.3.1.1 Solar absorption coefficient as 36
4.3.1.2 Solar irradiance Esun 41
4.3.2 Long-wave radiation exchange 44
4.3.2.1 Long-wave absorption coefficient al 44
4.3.2.2 Long-wave sky irradiance Esky 45
4.3.3 Surface emittance Es 47
4.3.4 Convective heat exchange Qc 47
4.3.5 Heat exchange by evaporation/condensation Qec 51
4.4 First Principles Modeling 53
4.4.1 Model definition 54
4.4.2 Sensitivity analysis 57
4.4.3 Pros and cons 65
References 66

5 Meteorological and Atmospheric Parameters 69


5.1 Meteorological Sensors and Measurements 69
5.2 SCORPIO Infrared Sky Radiance Distribution 72
References 78

6 Infrared Calibration Procedures 79


6.1 Calibration Methodology 80
6.2 Calibration Parameters 83
6.3 Calibration Procedures Guidelines 86
6.3.1 Blackbodies and target in the same image 86
6.3.2 Blackbodies and target at different ranges 88
6.3.3 Blackbodies and target in different images 89
6.4 Practical Example 91
References 97

7 Infrared Signature Characterization 99


7.1 Target Signatures 99
7.1.1 Field measurement of the long wave reflection coefficient 100
7.1.2 Measurement of thermal target signatures in the field 103
7.1.2.1 CHAR-II experiment 104
7.1.2.2 IRIS trials 108
7.1.2.3 Land mine detection experiments 111
7.1.3 IR target modeling 115
7.1.3.1 T62 tank 115
7.1.3.2 Land mines 119
7.2 IR Background Characterization 122
7.2.1 Field measurement of the shortwave reflection coefficient 125
Contents ix

7.2.2 Measurement of background apparent temperatures 128


7.2.2.1 CARABAS measurement system configuration 129
7.2.2.2 Practical examples 137
7.3 Background Temperature Statistics 138
7.3.1 Background temperature distributions 139
7.3.2 Statistical temperature differences between 3–5 mm
and 8– 12 mm 143
7.3.3 Background temperature curve fitting 145
7.3.3.1 Radiometer data 146
7.3.3.2 Images 153
7.3.4 Pros and cons 159
References 159

8 Signature Management 161


8.1 Target and Background Signature Analysis 161
8.2 Thermal Signatures of Materials 166
8.3 Mobile Camouflage Systems 172
8.4 Thermal Camouflage of Personnel 174
References 179

Index 181
Introduction

A number of physical phenomena can be used to observe or, more generally,


to detect an object in a background. Usually such a detection process has the
following elements: target-to-background contrast (with or without camouflage),
atmospheric attenuation, and sensor performance (detector and signal processing)
(see Fig. 1). It is essential that there be a difference, i.e., a contrast, between at least
one object and one background feature, such as a radiation contrast or a tempera-
ture contrast (difference). Furthermore, this contrast must generate a detector
signal S that significantly differs from the noise N spectrum of the sensor
system, thus S/N . 1. If this is the case, then detection in principle is possible.
NATO operations of today are deployed worldwide, exposing man and machine
to a wide variety of climatological and environmental conditions. Consequently,
target-to-background contrasts vary accordingly, and may reach considerable
values at some extreme locations.
Various imaging and nonimaging sensor systems have been developed to
detect special features such as color, temperature, sound, smell, shape, and such.
Detection-system designers select features and system parameters to achieve
the highest possible detection probability for a large variety of sensor-target-
background scenarios under various weather conditions. On the other hand,
military-equipment designers search for construction methods and materials that
minimize the detection probability for such detection systems.
So, for both worlds it is of utmost importance to have detailed knowledge of
target signatures under various target and environmental conditions.
Detection systems are subdivided into three categories:

(1) Active sensor systems.


This type of system needs an active source to create or enhance a feature
difference in order to detect it. Sometimes source and detector (receiver)
are integrated into one system, such as a laser range finder or a synthetic
aperture radar (SAR) system. At other times they are separate, as in a situ-
ation in which a forward observer illuminates the target as a beacon for
homing devices.
(2) Passive sensor systems.
In the same context, passive systems do not need an active source, but
utilize the existence of natural features, such as a thermometer to
xi
xii Introduction

Figure 1 Detection scenario.

measure temperatures, or a thermal imager measuring emitted radiation of


an object (the sun and moon are considered natural passive sources).
(3) Semiactive sensor systems.
Detecting alien, foreign active sources, such as radar (RWR), laser (LRF),
and electronic support measures (ESM).

Some active sensors are considered passive when the detection principle is
based on signals that exist in a background. A microphone would be considered
passive when picking up the sound of a bird, which is an example of a passive
natural sound. However, the microphone becomes active when picking up an
artificial source such as a helicopter. Another example is the human eye. The
human eye-brain system is the best known active sensor system and, in terms of
performance, is probably the best system that exists today. It operates in a very
small spectral region, the visible part of the electromagnetic (EM) spectrum, as
shown in Fig. 2. However, its practical use is limited to daytime and its perform-
ance decreases seriously under adverse weather conditions. Figure 2 shows that the
EM spectrum offers many more frequency regions, which could be utilized in
either a passive or active way.
Gradually, more and more parts of the EM spectrum have been used in
imaging sensor systems, comprising the ultraviolet (UV), near-infrared (NIR),
thermal infrared (TIR), and radar systems. Operational radar systems were intro-
duced during World War II and contributed largely to the defeat of the German
U-boat fleet. With the enormous revolution in technology during the post-war
years, new detector materials became increasingly available, opening up more
spectral bands to be used in sensor systems.


Source: www.temple.edu/biomed/spectrum.gif.
Introduction xiii

Figure 2 Electromagnetic spectrum.

Imaging sensor systems in the UV region, frequently used for missile (plume)
detection, have become available. Especially, the spectral window from
0.25– 0.39 mm is used for this purpose because the natural background does not
contain solar UV radiation (solar blind window). Also, sensor systems have
been developed in the NIR 1.1 – 3 mm, based on new sensor technology, such as
quantum-well detectors. Although reflected natural NIR radiation can be used
for detection, spotlights such as a NIR lamp or laser may be needed to enhance
contrast during adverse weather conditions, as with laser detection and ranging
(LADAR) systems.
One promising option was the TIR spectral region, ranging from 3–50 mm.
Since all surfaces emit electromagnetic radiation in this spectral region, it can
be used for passive detection. The explosive development of modern electronics
and ongoing development of new detector materials have resulted in high-perform-
ance IR imaging systems. In this context, “high performance” means that the
characteristic system parameters, such as NETD (noise equivalent temperature
difference), IFOV (instantaneous field of view), MRTD (minimum resolvable
temperature difference), etc. can be optimized, theoretically to take nearly any
desired value for a given choice of hardware components. During the last few
years, uncooled IR detector technology emerged, offering a cheaper alternative
to cooled systems, but providing less performance.
Computer computational power also has grown enormously, offering powerful
image-processing tools that can analyze imagery almost in real time. The conse-
xiv Introduction

Figure 3 Overview of spectral ranges, in which modern detection systems operate.

quence is that in the detection process, more target and background features can be
analyzed quickly and automatically, which makes targets even more vulnerable.
Modern sensors use many parts of the EM spectrum to optimize their performance
for specific applications. Figure 3 shows an overview of spectral ranges in which
modern detection systems operate.
In addition to system hardware specifications, system performance should be
expressed in terms of the system’s ability to perform the task for which it was
designed. This could be expressed thus: “With this system, it is possible to
detect an armored personnel carrier parked in front of a tree line from a distance
of 3 km, during the middle of a clear European night.” The performance of that
system is determined not only by its hardware specifications, but also by atmos-
pheric propagation and, probably to the largest extent, the momentary IR contrast
between the object and the local background. This is why all components, as given
in Fig. 1, must be taken into account to accurately judge the detection performance
of a given sensor system.
Analyses of atmospheric transmission enhance the understanding of atmos-
pheric effects, such as aerosols, dust, and smoke particles, which have an
impact on the propagation of IR radiation through the atmosphere. Many short-
and long-range measurements have been conducted under various meteorological
conditions. These efforts have culminated in a number of sophisticated semi-
empirical models, such as MODTRAN and HITRAN. These models have been
updated continuously over the last 15 years as new measurements and theory
became available. Today, these models are reliable tools for calculating the atmos-
pheric propagation and only require a small number of meteorological input
Introduction xv

parameters. Other than the use of MODTRAN, atmospheric transmission is not be


discussed in this text.
The next part of the observation scenario is the characterization of the
IR contrast between the object and the background. For simple object geometry,
IR signatures can be calculated by solving the heat balance equation for the differ-
ent object facets. However, with increasing object complexity, calculations soon
become unreliable because mathematical representations of some energy flows
are not valid (or not known) for small, arbitrarily oriented object facets. Measure-
ments are a good alternative because on many occasions object conditions can be
controlled and the environmental conditions can more or less be selected (i.e.,
waited for). Databases exist comprising more than 10,000 images of military
targets alone, taken at various target conditions and observation angles.
The characterization of background radiation is the most complex issue. This
complexity is probably one reason it was (until recent years, when the lack of back-
ground information became the most limiting factor in the detection process) given
more attention. In spite of this increase of effort, especially in the modeling area,
little progress was made in the development of models that produced results
accurate enough to be used in detection and recognition studies. This mainly is
because, on the one hand, backgrounds are difficult to model as a result of their
complex geometrical structure and, on the other hand, because the mathematical
description for some transfer processes, such as those that exist in a vegetation
layer, are not yet known accurately enough. The temporal variability of IR back-
ground radiation can be described satisfactorily with the aid of semi-empirical
models. The characterization of the spatial distribution of IR background radiation
is not discussed explicitly in this Tutorial Text.
The main part of this Tutorial Text deals with the characterization of the
thermal infrared (3– 12 mm) radiation contrast between ground targets and back-
grounds. Sensor systems are discussed only as far as necessary to explain the
topic under discussion. For more detailed information on sensor systems, the
reader is referred to one of the many textbooks available on this topic,1 – 3 or to
specific literature on IR detectors.4
Passive radar systems use differences in reflected cosmic radiation between
target and background in the higher frequency bands. Generally, detection
ranges are relatively short (a few kilometers) and strongly weather dependent.
This topic is not further addressed. Not only is the EM spectrum used to gather
information using active and passive detection, but acoustic, magnetic, and
seismic phenomena can also be used. Systems based on these principles are not
discussed any further here.
In summary, many sensor systems that can be used for detection purposes are
available, offering a wide range of deployment options: active/passive, day/night,
long-/short-range, good/bad weather, and such.
Chapter 1
Sensor Systems

1.1 Active Sensor Systems

Active systems in their simplest form are used in the typical setup shown in
Fig. 1.1.

Figure 1.1 Active systems.

A source directly “illuminates” the target and the reflected radiation is


detected. Although many kinds of active sources can be used, most active
systems use a part of the EM spectrum, such as light sources (including lasers)
and radar. Radar systems can be active or passive, and can be subdivided into
the following operational spectral bands:
. 1 –18 GHz ffi 30– 2 cm
. 35 GHz ffi 1 cm
. 94 GHz ffi 0.3 cm
In a conventional active radar system, a beam is sent out and, when the receiver is
opened after period of time (to) has elapsed, the incoming reflected beam will have
traveled a distance R ¼ c2to (c speed of light). Depending on the characteristics
of the source and receiver, other target features, such as target size, speed, and
direction, can be determined. Radar surveillance systems operate in the lower fre-
1
2 Chapter 1

Figure 1.2 SAR system.

quency bands (1– 18 GHz). For target acquisition (seekers), the higher frequencies
(specifically 35 and 94 GHz, mm wave) are used, because the antenna diameter
can be kept small. Normally the emitter (horn) and receiver (dish) are integrated
into one system. Because of technological developments over the past few
decades, mechanical scanning has been replaced by electronic beam steering
(phased arrays). This has great advantages for target tracking.
A special radar application is used in a synthetic aperture radar (SAR). The
beam of a normal operating radar scans the environment (Fig. 1.2), and when it
hits a target the dwell time on the target is very short.
In a SAR system, the beam can be locked onto a desired object (target or back-
ground area) and consequently the dwell time is much longer, resulting in a higher
S/N ratio. Therefore, SAR systems are very well suited as imaging devices.
Instead of a radar source, a laser source can be used to illuminate the
target. The big advantage is the much higher geometrical resolution that can
be obtained by the use of optical wavelengths (micrometer range) as opposed
to radar wavelengths (cm and mm range). In a LIDAR system, a pulsed
(frequency-modulated) laser is used and the receiver is synchronized with this
frequency (Fig. 1.3). Range gating can be used in a manner similar to radar to
acquire range-dependent information, but with a much higher-depth resolution.
Each range gate can therefore be represented by a high-resolution image.
With laser vibrometry the mechanical vibration of a surface is determined by
analyzing the modulation (i.e., measuring the Doppler shift) of the reflected laser
beam by the surface (Fig. 1.4). By scanning the laser over the surface, a laser vibration
image can be created. Figure 1.5 shows such an image of an idling tank.

Figure 1.3 LIDAR principle.


Sensor Systems 3

Figure 1.4 Laser vibrometry setup.

Figure 1.5 Laser vibration spectrum example.

1.2 Passive Sensor Systems

Passive sensor systems do not require an active source, but use the existence of
“natural” sources (Fig. 1.6). Because of the limited use of the visible spectral
region and the military preference for passive sensor systems over the past
decades, attention was focused on passive (EM) sensor systems.
Passive systems can utilize a broad spectrum of features, but a majority of
these systems operate in a specific part of the EM spectrum. Electro-optical
sensor systems can be subdivided into the following operational spectral bands:
. Ultraviolet (UV): 0.250– 0.410 mm
. Visible (VIS): 0.410– 0.770 mm
. Near-infrared (NIR): 0.770– 3.0 mm
. Thermal infrared (TIR): 3.0 –15 mm
. Passive (radar) radiometry: .35 GHz

Radiation leaving a surface in the spectral range of 0.25 –3 mm mainly consists of


reflected environmental radiation. From 3–15 mm, the main component is emitted
radiation. Passive radar fully depends on surface reflective properties.
4 Chapter 1

Figure 1.6 Passive detection.

Instead of using a single-band spectral filter, a variable filter (circumferential


variable filter or CVF) or prism can be used to create a large number of narrow spec-
tral bands, typically 256, each 20–40 nm wide. This principle is used in spectral
(nonimaging) radiometers or in combination with an imaging device (Fig. 1.7).
In the latter case, each pixel in the image is resolved for each spectral band.
The final output is a hyperspectral cube of 256 layers (images). Figure 1.8
shows the spectral reflectivity curves of a variety of surface land mines, recorded
with a spectral radiometer.
Figures 1.9 and 1.10 show a comparison between the spectral reflectivity of a
contiguous layer of snow of various flake sizes in comparison with the spectral
reflectivity of up to three layers of white fabric (used for snow camouflage nets).
Figures 1.8 and 1.9 show the use of spectral reflectivity data with opposite
interest. In order for mines to be detected, a maximum difference in reflectivity
with the local environment is required. For camouflage purposes, just the opposite
is required: a maximum spectral match with the local environment.

Figure 1.7 Hyperspectral imaging concept.


Exploring the Variety of Random
Documents with Different Content
Greek trimeter, but substituted a measure of less pathetic character,
if capable of the greatest freedom of treatment.
(c) The Relation of the Dramatic Composition to the General Public.
Although the advantages or defects of diction and metre are
important, also, in epic and lyrical poetry, we must nevertheless
ascribe a more emphatic effect to them in dramatic compositions, in
virtue of the circumstance that we are in this case dealing with
opinions, characters, and actions which have to appear before us in
all the reality of life itself. A comedy of Calderon, for example, with
all the interplay of fantastic wit we may assume, embodied, however,
in the kind of diction we associate with this poet, with its logical
niceties and its bombast—subject, also, to all the variations of his
lyrical metres—would not, we may presume, on the simple ground of
this manner of expression, be likely to arouse any general sympathy.
It is on account of this visual presence and nearness of approach
that the other aspects of the content, apart from that of purely
dramatic form, are brought into a far more direct relation to the
public before whom they are reproduced. We should like shortly to
explain the nature of this.
Scientific compositions and lyrical or epic poems either possess a
distinct public, whose interest in such works is associated with their
profession, or it is a matter of chance into what hands compositions
of this character may fall. If a book does not please anyone it can be
neglected, just as a man passes by the picture or statue that he
does not like; such works may, in fact, be held to carry to some
extent with them the author's admission that his book is not written
for such. The case is somewhat otherwise with dramatic works. Here
we have a distinct public for which the author has to cater, and he is
under certain obligations towards it. Such a public possesses the
right of applause no less than expressed displeasure; inasmuch as a
work is represented before it in its entirety, and the appeal is made
that it should be enjoyed, with sympathy in a given place and at a
stated time. A public of this sort, as in the case of any—other public
jury, is of a very varied character; it differs in its education, interests,
accustomed tastes, and hobbies, so that to secure complete success
in certain distinct respects a talent in the display of vulgar effect, or
at least a relative shame-facedness in regard to the finest demand of
genuine art, may be necessary. No doubt the dramatic poet has
always the alternative left him to despise his public. But in that case
he obviously fails to secure the very object for which dramatic
writing exists. With us Germans, to an exceptional extent, it has
become the fashion since the times of Tieck thus to scorn the public.
Our German play-writer will express his own particular individuality,
but takes no trouble to commend the result to his audience. The
ideal of our German egotism is quite the reverse, namely, that every
man must turn out something different to that of other people, in
order that he may prove his originality. It was owing, in part, to this
that Tieck and the brothers Schlegel, men who, from the very nature
of their sentimental irony, were quite unable to master the emotional
forces and intelligence of their nation and time, fell foul of Schiller,
and tried to blacken his poetical reputation on the ground that he
did among us Germans manage to strike the right key, and obtain a
popularity unsurpassed. With our neighbours, the French, we find
the opposite. Their authors write with the present effect on the
public always in view, which further, on its own account, is capable
of being a keener and less indulgent critic of the author, owing to
the fact that a more definite artistic taste is already fixed in France:
with us anarchy prevails, and everyone expresses his critical views,
applauds or condemns just as he likes, or as his opinions, emotion,
and mood may chance to dictate.
Inasmuch, however, as it is an essential part of the definition of the
dramatic composition that it should possess the vitality able to
command a favourable popular reception, the dramatic poet should
submit to the conditions—quite apart, that is, from the accidental
circumstances or tendencies of the time—which are likely to secure
this result in an artistic form. What these are I will attempt to
explain, at least in their more general features.
(a) Now, in the first place, the ends, which in a dramatic work come
into conflict and are resolved out of such conflict, either possess a
general human interest, or at least have at bottom a pathos, which
is of a valid and substantive character for the people for whom the
poet creates his work. In such a case, however, the universal human
quality and what is more definitely national, in so far as either are
connected with the substance of dramatic collisions, may lie very
widely apart. Compositions, which stand in the national life, at the
very summit of their dramatic art and development, may
consequently quite fail to be appreciated by another age and nation.
We find, for example, in Hindoo lyrical poetry, even in our own time,
much that carries with it a real charm, tenderness, and fascinating
sweetness. The particular collision, however, around which the
action in the "Sakontala" revolves, in other words, the furious curse
upon Sakontala of the Brahman, because she does not see him, and
omits to make her obeisance, can only strike us as absurd, so much
so in fact that, despite all other excellences in this quite
exceptionally beautiful poem, we fail to discover any interest in the
very culminating crisis of the action. We may affirm very much the
same thing of the way in which the Spaniards treat the motive of
personal honour with the abstract severity of a logic, the brutality of
which outrages most deeply all our ideas and feelings. Let me recall,
for example, the attempt made by our own theatrical management
to bring upon the stage one of the less famous plays of Calderon
entitled "Clandestine Revenge for Clandestine Insult," an attempt
condemned to failure from the first on this ground. Another tragedy,
which on similar lines portrays a more profound human conflict, "The
Physician of his own Honour," under the changed title of "The
Intrepid Prince," has after some revision secured more leeway; but
this, too, is handicapped by its abstract and unyielding Catholic
principle. Conversely, and in an opposite direction, the
Shakespearian tragedies and comedies are appreciated by a public
that is constantly increasing. We find here that, despite all their
nationality, the universal human interest is incomparably greater.
Shakespeare has only failed to secure an entrance where the
national conventions of art are so narrow and specific that they
either wholly exclude or materially weaken works of the
Shakespearian type. A similar position of advantage, such as that we
allow to Shakespeare, would be attributable to the tragedies of the
ancients, if we did not, apart from our changed habits in respect to
scenic reproduction and certain aspects of the national
consciousness, make the further demand of a profounder
psychological penetration and a greater breadth of particular
characterization. So far, however, as the subject-matter of ancient
tragedy is concerned, it could never at any time fail in its effect. We
may, therefore, broadly affirm that, in proportion as a dramatic work
accepts for its content wholly specific rather than typical characters
and passions, conditioned, that is, exclusively by definite tendencies
of a particular epoch of history, instead of mainly concerning itself
with human interests substantive in all times, to that extent, despite
of all its other advantages, it will be more transitory.
(β) And, further, it is necessary that universal human ends and
actions of this kind should emphasize their poetic individualization to
the point of animated life itself. Dramatic composition does not
merely address itself to our sense of vitality, a sense which even the
public certainly ought to possess, but it must itself, in all essentials,
offer a living actual presence of situations, conditions, characters,
and actions.
(αα) I have already, in a previous passage of this work,[19] entered
into some detail relatively to the aspect of local environment,
customs, usages and other matters which affect the visual
representation of action. In this respect dramatic individualization
ought to be either so thoroughly poetical, vital, and rich with interest
that we can discount what is alien to our sense, and feel ourselves
attracted to the performance by this vital claim on our attention, or it
should not pretend to do more than present such characteristics as
external form, which is entirely outshone by the spiritual and ideal
characteristics which underlie it.
(ββ) More important than this external aspect is the vitality of the
dramatis personae. Such ought not to be merely specific interests
personified, which is only too frequently the case at the hands of
modern dramatists. Such abstract impersonations of particular
passions and aims are wholly destitute of dramatic effect. A purely
superficial individualization is equally insufficient. Content and form
in such cases, as in the analogous type of allegorical figures, fail to
coalesce. Profound emotions and reflections, imposing ideas and
language offer no real compensation. Dramatic personality ought to
be, on the contrary, vital and self-identical throughout, a complete
whole in short, the opinions and characterization of which are
consonant with its aims and action. It is not the breadth of particular
traits which is here of first importance, but the permeating
individuality, which synthetically binds all in the central unity, which it
in truth is, and displays a given personality in speech and action as
issuing from one and the same living source, from which every
characteristic, whether it be of idea, deed or manner of behaviour,
comes into being. That which is merely an aggregate of different
qualities and activities, even though such be strung together in one
string, will not give us the vital character we require. This
presupposes from the point of view of the poet himself a creative
activity which is instinct with life and imagination. It is to the latter
type, for instance, that the characters of the Sophoclean tragedies
belong, despite the fact that they do not possess the variety of
particular characteristics which distinguish the epic heroes of Homer.
Among later writers Shakespeare and Goethe are pre-eminently
famous for the vitality of their characterization. The French, on the
contrary, particularly in their earlier dramatic compositions, appear to
have been rather content to excogitate characters that are little
more than the formal impersonations of general types and passions,
than to have aimed at giving us true and living persons.
(γγ) But, thirdly, the task of dramatic creation is not completed with
the presentment of vital characterization. Goethe's Iphigeneia and
Tasso throughout are good enough examples of this poetic
excellence—and yet they are not, if we look at them more strictly, by
any means perfect examples of dramatic vitality and movement. It is
for this reason that Schiller long ago remarked of the Iphigeneia,
that in it is the ethical content, the heart experience, the personal
opinion which is made the object of the action, and is as such
visually reproduced. And unquestionably the display and expression
of the personal experience of different characters in definite
situations is not by itself sufficient; we must also have real emphasis
laid on the collision of the ultimate ends involved, and the forward
and conflicting movement which such imply. Schiller is consequently
of the view that the movement of the Iphigeneia is not sufficiently
disturbed; we are permitted to linger within it too long and easily. He
even maintains that it without question inclines to the sphere of epic
composition, if we contrast it at least with any strict conception of
tragedy. In other words, dramatic effect is action simply as action; it
is not the exposition of personality alone, or practically independent
of the express purpose and its final achievement. In the Epos play
may be permitted to the breadth and variety of character, external
conditions, occurrences and events; in the drama, on the contrary,
the self-concentration of its principle is most asserted relatively to
the particular collision and its conflict. It is thus that we recognize
the truth of Aristotle's dictum,[20] that tragic action possesses two
sources (αἴτια δὐo), opinion and character (διάνoια καὶ ἦδoς), but
what is most important is the end (τέλoς), and individuals do not act
in order to display diverse characters, but these latter are united
with a common bond of imaginative conception to the former in the
interest of the action.
(γ) As a matter for our final consideration in this place there is the
relation in which the poet is placed to the general public. Epic poetry
in its truly primitive state requires that the poet place wholly on one
side his distinctive personality in its contrast to his actually objective
work. He offers us the content of that and only that. The lyric poet,
on the contrary, deliberately expresses his own emotional life and his
personal views of the world.
(αα) We might imagine that the poet must perforce withdraw himself
in the drama by reason of the very fact that he brings action before
us in its sensuous presence, and makes the characters speak and
active in their own names, to a greater extent than in the Epos, in
which he appears at any rate as narrator of the events. Such an
impression is only, however, very partially valid. For, as I have
already contended, the drama is exclusively referable in its origin to
those epochs, in which the personal self-consciousness, both
relatively to the general outlook on life and artistic culture, has
already reached a high degree of development. A dramatic
composition therefore should not, as an epic one does, present the
appearance as though it originated from the popular consciousness
simply, for the display of which content the poet is merely an
instrument of expression which possesses no reference to the poet's
personal life; rather what we seek to recognize in the complete work
is quite as much the product of the self-aware and original creative
force, and by reason of this the art and virtuosity of a genuine poetic
personality. It is only thereby that dramatic productions attain to the
genuine excellence of their artistic vitality and definition, as
contrasted with the actions and events of natural life. It is on this
account that where the authorship of dramatic works is a subject of
controversy we find such to be nowhere more frequent than where it
concerns the primitive Epopaea.
(ββ) From the opposite point of view the general public too, if it has
itself preserved a true sense of meaning of art, will not submit to
have placed before it in a drama the more accidental moods and
opinions, the peculiar tendencies and the one-sided outlook of this
or that individual, the expression of which is more appropriate to the
lyric poet. It has a right to demand that in the course and final issue
of the dramatic action, whether of tragedy or comedy, what is
fundamentally reasonable and true should be vindicated. Being
myself convinced of this I have in a previous passage given a place
of first importance to the demand that the dramatic poet must in the
profoundest sense make himself master of the essential significance
of human action and the divine order of the world, and along with
this of a power to unfold this eternal and essential foundation of all
human characters, passions and destinies in its clarity as also in its
vital truth. It is no doubt quite possible that a poet, in rising equal to
this demand upon his powers of penetration and artistic
achievement, may under particular circumstances find himself in
conflict with the restricted and uncultured ideas of his age and
nation. In such a case the responsibility for such a disunion does not
rest with himself, but is a burden the public ought to carry. He has
the single obligation to follow the lead of truth and his own
compelling genius, the ultimate victory of which, provided it is of the
right quality, is no less assured than that of ultimate truth itself
universally. It is impossible to define closely the limits within which a
dramatic poet is entitled to bring his actual personality before the
public. I will therefore merely recall attention to the fact in a general
way that in many periods of history dramatic poetry, no less than
other kinds, is induced to disseminate with a vital impulse novel
ideas upon politics, morals, poetry, religion, and the like. So early as
Aristophanes we have polemics in those comedies of his youth
against the domestic condition of Athens and the Peloponnesian war.
Voltaire again frequently endeavours in his dramatic works to
popularize his free thought principles. But above all worthy of notice
is the effort of our Lessing in his "Nathan" to vindicate his ethical
faith against the strait waistcoat of a blockish orthodoxy. In still more
recent times too Goethe has in his earliest works challenged the
prose of our German life and its defective views of art. Tieck has to
some extent followed his lead in this respect. Where personal views
of the above type are not only of superior worth, but are further not
expressed in such deliberate separation from the action of the drama
as to make the latter appear as a mere means for their exploitation,
the claims of true art are not likely to suffer injury. If, however, the
freedom of the composition is thereby impaired, though no doubt
the poet may possibly produce no inconsiderable impression on the
public by his introduction of his own predilections into his work; yet,
however true they may be, if they are at the same time unable to
coalesce with the work as an artistic whole the interest thereby
aroused can only be limited to the matters thus handled; it is in fact
no true artistic interest at all. The worst case of all is that, however,
where a poet with similar deliberation seeks, out of pure flattery and
in order to please, to give prominence to some popular prejudice
which is entirely false. His sins of commission are in that case
twofold, not merely against art, but truth no less.
(ββ) One further remark may be perhaps admitted in this connection
to the effect that among the particular types of dramatic art a more
limited measure of indulgence is permitted to tragedy than to
comedy in this more free expatiation of the personality of the poet.
In the latter type the contingency and caprice of individual self-
expression is from the first agreeable to its main principle. Thus we
find that Aristophanes frequently makes matters of immediate
interest to his Athenian public the subject of his parabases. In
portions of these he gives free utterance to his own views upon
contemporary events and circumstances, and withal shrewd advice
to his fellow citizens. He is at other times concerned to defend
himself from the attacks of political opponents and his artistic rivals.
Indeed there are passages in which he deliberately eulogizes himself
and his peculiarities.

2. THE EXTERNAL TECHNIQUE OF A DRAMATIC COMPOSITION

Poetry, alone among the arts, completely dispenses with the


sensuous medium of the objective world of phenomena. Inasmuch
moreover as the drama does not interpret to the imaginative vision
the exploits of the past, or express an ideal personal experience to
mind and soul, but rather is concerned to depict an action in all the
reality of its actual presence, it would fall into contradiction with
itself if it were forced to remain limited to the means, which poetry,
simply as such, is in a position to offer. The present action no doubt
belongs entirely to the personal self, and from this point of view
complete expression is possible through the medium of language.
From an opposite one, however, the movement of action is towards
objective reality, and it requires the complete man to express its
movement in his corporeal existence, deed and demeanour, as well
as the physiognomical expression of emotions and passions, and not
only these on their own account, but in their effect on other men,
and the reactions which are thereby brought into being. Moreover, in
the display of individuality in its actual presence, we require further
an external environment, a specific locale, in which such movement
and action is achieved. Consequently dramatic poetry, by virtue of
the fact that no one of these aspects can be permitted to remain in
their immediate condition of contingency, but have all to be
reclothed in an artistic form as phases of fine art itself, is compelled
to avail itself of the assistance of pretty well all the other arts. The
surrounding scene is to some extent, just as the temple is, an
architectonic environment, and in part also external Nature, both
aspects being conceived and executed in pictorial fashion. In this
locale the sculpturesque figures are presented with the animation of
life, and their volition and emotional states are artistically
elaborated, not merely by means of expressive recitation, but also
through a picturesque display of gesture and of posture and
movement, which, in its objective form, is inspired by the inward
soul-life. In this respect we may have brought home to us a
distinction which recalls a feature I have at an earlier stage indicated
in the sphere of music as the opposition implied in the arts of
declamation and melody. In other words, just as in declamatory
music language in its spiritual signification is the aspect of most
importance, to the characteristic expression of which the musical
aspect is entirely subordinate, whereas the movement of melody is
unfolded freely on its own account in its own specific medium,
although it too is able to assimilate the content of language—so also
dramatic poetry, on the one hand, avails itself of those sister arts
merely as instrumental to a material basis and environment, out of
which the language of poetry is in its free domination asserted as
the commanding central focus, upon and around which all else really
revolves. From the further point of view, however, that which in the
first instance had merely the force of an assistant and
accompaniment, becomes an object on its own account, and
receives the appearance in its own domain of an essentially
independent beauty. Declamation passes into song, action into the
mimic of the dance, and scenery in its splendour and pictorial
fascination itself puts forward a claim to artistic perfection.
In contrasting, then, a contrast frequently insisted upon, and more
particularly in recent times, poetry in its simplicity with the external
dramatic execution such as we have above described, we may
continue the course of our review under the following heads of
discussion.
Firsts there is the dramatic poetry, whose object is to restrict itself to
the ordinary ground of poetry, and consequently does not
contemplate the theatrical representation of its productions.
Secondly, we have the genuine art of the theatre, to the extent that
is in which it is limited to recitation, play of pose and action, under
the modes in which the language of the poet is able throughout to
remain the definitive and decisive factor.
Lastly, there is that type of reproduction, which admits the
employment of every means of scenery, music and dance, and
suffers the same to assert an independent position as against the
dramatic language.
(a) The Reading and Recitation of Dramatical Compositions.
The true sensuous medium or instrument of dramatic poetry is, as
we have seen, not only the human voice and the spoken word, but
the entire man, who not merely expresses emotions, ideas, and
thoughts, but, as vitally absorbed in a concrete action, in virtue of all
that he is influences the ideas, designs, the action and behaviour of
others, experiences similar effects on himself, or maintains his
independent opposition to them.
(α) In contrast to such a definite view, which is based upon the
essential character of dramatic poetry itself, it is a feature of modern
notions on the subject, particularly so among ourselves, to regard
the organization of drama with a view to its theatrical reproduction
as unessential and subsidiary, although as a fact all dramatic
authors, even when they adopt this attitude of indifference and
contempt, entertain the wish and hope to see their compositions on
the stage. The result is that the greater number of more recent
dramas are unable ever to find a stage, and the simple reason of
this is that they are undramatical. We are not of course, therefore, in
a position to deny that a dramatic composition may satisfy the
conditions of genuine poetry in virtue of its intrinsic worth. What we
affirm is that it is only to an action, the dramatic course of which is
admirably adapted to theatrical representation, that we are to
attribute such intrinsic dramatic worth. The best authority for such a
statement is supplied by the Greek tragedies. It is true that we no
longer see these on the contemporary stage, but they do
nevertheless, if we regard the facts more closely, completely satisfy
us to a real extent precisely on this ground that they were written
without reserve for the theatre of their day. What has banished them
from the theatre of today is not so much the character of their
dramatic organization, which differs mainly from that of to-day in its
employment of the chorus, as in the nature of national predilections
and conditions, upon which for the most part, if we consider their
content, they are based, and in which owing to the distance in which
they are placed relatively to our own contemporary life we are
unable now to feel ourselves at home. The malady of Philoctetes, for
instance, the loathsome ulcer on his foot, his ejaculations and
outcries, are as little likely to awaken the genuine interest of a
modern audience as the arrows of Hercules, about which the main
course of that drama revolves. In a similar way, though we may
admit the barbaric cruelty of the human sacrifice in the Iphigeneia in
Aulis and Tauris in an opera, we find it absolutely necessary in
tragedy at any rate that this aspect should be wholly revised as
Goethe has in fact done.
(β) The difference, however, thus indicated between ancient and
modern customs, which effects the mere perusal of such works, no
less than the complete and vital reproduction of them as a whole,
has had the further effect of pointing out to us another by-way, in
which poets to some extent deliberately fashion their work
exclusively for the reader's perusal, and in a manner by which the
difficulty above indicated no longer affects the character of such
compositions. There are no doubt in this connection isolated points
of view, which merely refer to features of external form, which are
implied in the so-called knowledge of the stage, and an indifference
as to which does not lessen the poetical worth of a dramatical
production. To these belong, for example, the careful regulation of
the scenic arrangements, that one scene can follow without difficulty
after another, though it requires great alterations in the scenery, or
that the actor is given sufficient time to make the necessary change
of costume, or to recover from his previous exertions. A knowledge
and aptitude of this nature is neither indicative of any poetical
superiority or the reverse; they rather depend upon the naturally
varying and conventional arrangements of the theatre. There are,
however, other features relatively to which the poet, in order to be
truly dramatical, must have the animated reproduction visibly
present in its substance, must make his dramatis personae speak
and act conformably thereto, that is, in complete congruity with an
actually present realization. Viewed in this light theatrical
reproduction is a real test. For in the presence of the supreme court
of appeal of a sound and artistic public the mere speeches and
tirades of our so-called exquisite diction, if dramatic truth is not
thereby asserted, will not hold water. There are periods, no doubt, in
which the public also is corrupted by the culture it is the fashion so
highly to praise, I mean by heads generally overstocked with the
current opinions and fancies of the connoisseur and critic. Let it
however only retain its own essentially sterling commonsense, and it
will only be satisfied in those cases where characters express
themselves and act precisely as the reality of life no less than art
demands and necessitates. If the poet, on the contrary, writes
exclusively for the single reader he very readily gets no further than
making his characters speak and behave much as they might do in
an epistolary correspondence. If any one thus gives us the reasons
for his aims and what he does, or unbares his heart in any other
respect, instead of that which we should at once remark thereupon
we get between the receipt of the letter and our immediate reply
time for all kinds of reflection and idea. The imagination opens in
this case a wide field of possibilities. In the actually present speech
and rejoinder we have to presuppose that as between man and man
the volition and heart, the movement of feeling and decision are
more direct, that in short the dialogue passes on without any such
recourse to considerable reflection, but at once from soul to soul, as
eye to eye, mouth to mouth, and ear to ear. Only in such a case the
actions and speeches are expressed with life from the actual
personality, who has no time left him to make a careful selection
from one out of many possibilities. Under this view of the case it is
not unimportant for the poet throughout his composition to keep his
eye on the stage, which renders such a direct type of animation
necessary. Nay, for myself I go to the length of maintaining that no
dramatic work ought to be printed, but rather, as no doubt with the
ancients, it should belong to the stage repertory in manuscript form,
[21] and only receive quite an insignificant circulation. We should at
least in that case limit very considerably the present superabundance
of dramas, which it is possible possess the speech of culture, fine
sentiments, excellent reflections, and profound thoughts, but which
are defective in the very direction which makes a drama dramatical,
that is, in the display of action, and the vital movement which
belongs to it.
(γ) In the mere perusal and reading aloud of dramatic compositions
we find a difficulty in deciding whether they are of a type which
would produce the due effect from the stage. Even Goethe, whose
experience of stage management in his later years was exceptional,
was far from being dependable on this head, a result no doubt
mainly due to the extraordinary confusion of our public taste, which
is able to accept with approval almost anything and everything. If
the character and object of the dramatis personae are on their own
account great and substantive the manner of composition no doubt
presents less difficulty. But as regards the motive force of interests,
the various phases in the progress of the action, the suspended
interest and development of situations, the just degree in which
characters assert their effect on each other, the appropriate force
and truth of their demeanour and speech—in all such respects the
mere perusal unassisted by a theatrical performance can only in the
rarest cases arrive at a reliable decision. Reading a work aloud is
only under great qualification a further assistance. Speech in drama
requires the presence of separate individuals. The delivery of one
voice, however artistically it may adapt itself to different shades of
tone in alternate or varying change is insufficient. Add to this the
fact that in reading aloud we are throughout confronted with the
difficulty whether on every occasion the persons speaking should be
mentioned or not. Both alternations are equally open to objection. If
the delivery is that of one voice the statement of the names of the
characters speaking becomes an indispensable condition of
intelligibility, but by doing so the expression of pathos throughout
suffers violence. If, on the other hand, the delivery is vitally
dramatic, and we are carried thereby into the actual situation, a
further kind of contradiction can hardly fail to appear. For with the
satisfaction of our sense of hearing that of sight puts forward a
certain claim of its own. For when we listen to an action we desire to
see the acting persons, their demeanour and surroundings; the eye
craves for a completed vision, and finds instead before it merely a
reciter, who sits or stands peacefully in a private house with
company. Reading aloud or recitation is consequently always an
unsatisfying compromise between the unambitious pretensions of
private perusal, in which the aspect of realization is absent entirely
and all is left to the imagination, and the complete theatrical
presentation.
(b) The Art of the Actor
In conjunction with actual dramatic reproduction there is along with
music a second practical art, namely, that of acting, the complete
development of which belongs entirely to more recent times. Its
principle consists in this, that while it summons to its assistance
dramatic posture, action, declamation, music, dance, and scenery, it
accepts as the predominant mark of its effort human speech and its
poetical expression. And this is for poetry in its simplest significance
the exclusively just relation. For if mere mimicry or song or dance
once begin to assume an independent position of their own, poetry
viewed as a fine and creative art is degraded to the position of an
instrument, and loses its ascendancy over the in other respects
accompanying arts. We will venture to point out a few characteristic
distinctions in this connection.
(α) The primary phase of the art of acting is to be found among the
Greeks. Here, as one aspect of the matter, the art of speech is
affiliated with that of sculpture. The acting dramatis personae stands
before us as an objective figure in his entire bodily realization. In so
far as here this statuesque figure is animated, assimilates and
expresses the content of the poetry, enters into every movement of
personal passion and at the same time asserts it through word and
voice, this presentation is more animated and more spiritually
transparent than any statue or picture.
As to this quality of living animation we may draw a distinction
between two distinct ways of regarding it.
(αα) First, there is declamation in the sense of artistic speech.
Declamation was not carried far among the Greeks; intelligibility is
here what is of most importance. We desire to recognize in the tone
of the voice and in the quality of the recitations the characterization
of soul-life in its finest shades and transitions, as also in its
oppositions and contrasts, in short, in its entire concreteness. The
ancients, on the contrary, added a musical accompaniment to
declamation, partly to emphasize rhythm, and in part to increase the
modulation of the verbal expression. At the same time it is probable
that the dialogue was either not at all or only very lightly
accompanied. To the reproduction of the choruses, however, the lyric
association of music was essential. It is highly probable that singing,
by means of its more definite accentuation of the meaning of the
language used in the choice strophes and antistrophes, made the
same more intelligible; only under such an assumption can I myself
understand how it was possible for a Greek audience to follow the
choruses of either Æschylus or Sophocles. I admit that such
choruses might not necessarily present to a Greek all the difficulties
we ourselves experience; at the same time I confess that, though I
know the German language well and am not wholly destitute of
imagination, German lyrics written in the same style, if declaimed
from the stage, even with the full accompaniment of song, would
still be far from wholly intelligible.
(ββ) A further means of interpretation is supplied by the pose and
movement of the body. In this respect it is worth noticing that with
the Greeks the play of facial expression is entirely absent, by reason
of the fact that their actors wore masks. The facial contour returned
an unalterable sculpturesque image, the plastic outlines of which
were as unable to assimilate the varied expression of particular
states of soul, as to reproduce the acting characters, which fought
through a pathos securely fixed and universal in the nature of its
dramatic conflict, and neither deepened the substance of this pathos
to the ideal intensity of our modern emotional life, nor suffered it to
expand into all the particularization of the world of dramatic
individualities now in vogue. The action was equally simple, for
which reason we do not possess any tradition of famous Greek
mimes. Sometimes the poet himself was actor; both Sophocles and
Aristophanes are examples. To some extent the mere citizen, who
was not strictly a professional actor at all, took a part in tragedy. As
a set-off to such difficulties the choric songs were accompanied with
the dance, a procedure which can only appear frivolous to us
Germans in the view we generally take of the dance. With the
Greeks it belonged as an essential feature to their theatrical
performances.
(γγ) To summarize, then, we find that among the ancients not only
was the poetical claim of language, and the intelligible expression of
general emotional states, freely admitted, but also the external
realization received the most complete elaboration by means of
musical accompaniment and the dance. A concrete unity of this kind
gives to the entire presentation a plastic character. What is spiritual
is not on its own account idealized as part of a personal soul-life, nor
is it expressed under such a mode of particularization; the main
effect is to bring about its complete affiliation and reconciliation with
the external aspect of sensuous appearance whose correspondent
claim is equally recognized.
(β) In rivalry with music and the dance speech suffers injury, in so
far as it ought to remain the spiritual expression of spirit. Our
modern art of the theatre has consequently succeeded in liberating
itself from such features. The poet is by this means exclusively
placed in a relation to the actor simply, who, by his declamation,
play of facial expression, and posture, has to represent to vision the
poetical work. This relation of the author to the external material is,
however, in its contrast to other arts, quite unique. In painting and
sculpture it is the artist himself, who executes his conceptions in
colour, bronze, or marble; and although musical execution is
dependent upon the hands and voices of others, yet the feature thus
added, albeit, of course, the element of soul in the delivery ought
not to be absent, is none the less, to a more or less degree,
overwhelmingly mechanical technique and virtuosity.[22] The actor,
on the contrary, appears before us in the entire personality which
combines his bodily presence, physiognomy, voice, and so forth, and
it is his function to coalesce absolutely with the character he
portrays.
(αα) In this respect the poet has the right to demand of the actor
that he enters with all his faculties into the part he receives, without
adding thereto anything peculiar to himself, that, in short, he acts in
complete consonance with the creative conception and means of its
display supplied by the poet. The actor ought, in fact, to be the
instrument upon which the author plays, an artist's brush which
absorbs all colours and returns the same unchanged. Among the
ancients this was more easily achieved for the reason that
declamation, as above stated, was mainly restricted to clarity of
meaning, and music looked after the aspect of rhythm, while masks
concealed the faces, and, moreover, not much scope was left to the
action. Consequently, the actor could without real difficulty conform
in his delivery to a universal tragic pathos; and although too, in
comedy, portraits of living people such as Socrates, Nicias, Creon,
and so forth, had to be represented, in a real measure the masks
reproduced characteristic traits with sufficient force, and further we
should note that a detailed individualization was less necessary,
inasmuch as the comic poets, as a rule, merely introduced such
characters in order to represent general tendencies of the time.
(ββ) The position is different in the modern theatre. Here, to start
with, we have no masks or musical accompaniment, but have
instead of these the play of facial expression, the variety of pose,
and a richly modulated style of declamation. For, on the one hand,
human passions, even when they are expressed by the poet in a
more general and typical characterization, have none the less to be
asserted as part of an inner and personal life; and for the rest our
modern characters receive, for the most part, a far more extended
compass of particularization, the distinctively appropriate expression
of which has in the same way to be placed before us with all the
animation of present life. The characters of Shakespeare are, above
all, entire men, standing before us in distinctively unique personality,
so that we require of our actors that they, for their part, give us back
the entire impression of such complete creations. There is no specific
rôle here that does not require a definite kind of expression fitted to
it, and which covers in fact every feature of its display, whether we
regard that which we cannot see or that which we do, whether it be
in the tone of the voice, the mode of delivery, gesticulation, or facial
expression. For this reason, apart from the nature of the dialogue,
the varied character of the pose and gesture, through every possible
shade, receives an entirely new significance. In fact, the modern
poet leaves to the actor self-expression here much that the ancients
would have expressed in words. Take the example of the final scene
of Wallenstein. The old Octavio has assisted materially in the
downfall of Wallenstein. He finds him treacherously murdered by the
machinations of Buttler, and at the very moment when the Countess
Terzky makes the announcement that she has taken poison, an
imperial letter arrives. Gordon, after reading the same, hands it to
Octavio with a glance of reproach, adding the words, "To the Lord
Piccolomini." Octavio is confounded, and, pained to the heart,
glances heavenwards. That which Octavio experiences in this reward
for a service, for the bloody issue of which he himself is mainly
responsible, is in this passage not expressed in so many words, but
is left solely to the gesture of the actor.
(γγ) Owing to demands of this kind made by our modern art of
acting, poetry may, relatively to the material of its presentation, not
unfrequently opens up difficulties unknown to the ancients. In other
words, the actor, being the man he is, possesses, in respect to voice,
figure, physiognomical expression, as everybody else, his native
peculiarities, which he is compelled to set on one side, either owing
to their incompatibility with a pathos of universal import and a really
typical characterization, or to bring them into harmony with the
more complete personalities of a type of poetry rich in its power of
individualization.
Actors claim the title of artists, and receive all the honours of an
artistic profession. According to our modern ideas, no taint of any
sort, whether ethical or social, is implied in the fact of being a
dramatic actor. This view is the right one. The profession demands
conspicuous talent, intelligence, perseverance, energy, practice,
knowledge, and, indeed, its highest attainment is impossible without
the rare qualities of genius. The actor has not only to assimilate
profoundly the spirit of the poet and the part he accepts, and to
make his own individuality conform entirely to the same, both
inwardly and outwardly; he has, over and above this, in many
respects to supplement the part with his own creative insight, to fill
in gaps, to discover modes of transition, and generally, by his
performance, to interpret the poet by making visibly and vitally
present and intelligible meanings which lie beneath the surface, or
the less obvious touches of a master's hand.
(c) The Theatrical Art which is more Independent of Poetical
Composition
Finally, we shall have that further, or third aspect of the art in its
actual employment, where it liberates itself from the exclusive
precedency of articulate poetry, and accepts as an independent end
what was previously, to a more or less extent, a mere
accompaniment or instrument, and elaborates the same on its own
account. To carry out this emancipation, music and the dance are
quite as much essential features of the dramatic development as the
art of the actor simply.
(α) In respect to this change in the art, there are broadly speaking
two systems. The first, according to which the performer tends to be
simply in spirit and body the living instrument of the poet, we have
already referred to. The French, who make much of professional
rôles[23] and schools, and are, as a rule, more typical in their
theatrical representations, have shown an exceptional fidelity to this
system in their tragedy and haute comédie. What we may define
here as the position of the art of acting reversed consists in this, that
the entire creation of the poet now tends to be purely an appendage
or frame to and for the natural endowment, technical ability, and art
of the actor. It is by no means uncommon to hear actors make the
demand that poets should write expressly for them. The soul
function of poetical composition is, in this view, to give the artist an
opportunity to display and unfold in all its brilliance his emotional
powers and art, to let us see the final outcome of his particular
individuality. Among the Italians, the commedia dell' arte belongs to
this type. Here, no doubt, we have certain definite types of character
such as those of the arlecchino, dottore, and the like, with
appropriate situations and series of scenes; the more detailed
execution is, however, almost entirely left to the discretion of the
actors. Among ourselves, the dramatic pieces of Iffland and
Kotzebue, and many others besides, though in large measure
regarded as poetry, unimportant or even bad compositions,
nevertheless offer such an opportunity for the creative powers of the
actor, who is compelled to initiate and shape something from such
generally sketchy and artificial productions, which on account of a
vital and independent performance of this kind receives a unique
interest exclusively united to one and no other artist. It is here, more
especially, that we find our much belauded realistic effects are
displayed, a style carried to such lengths that a mere mumble and
whisper of articulate speech, quite impossible to follow, will pass as
an admirable performance. In protest to such a style, Goethe
translated Voltaire's "Tancred" and "Mahomet" for the Weimar stage,
in order to compel its actors to drop this vulgar naturalism, and
accustom themselves to a more noble exposition. And this is
invariably the case with the French, who, even in all the animation of
the farce, always keep the audience in view, and throughout address
themselves to it. As a matter of fact, mere realism and imitation of
our everyday expression is as little exhaustive of the real problem as
the mere intelligibility and clever use made of characterization. If an
actor seeks to produce a really artistic effect in such cases, he will
have to extend his powers to a genial virtuosity similar to that I have
described already in a previous passage when referring to musical
execution.[24]
(β) A second province belonging to the type under consideration is
that of the modern opera, in the direction, at least, which it more
and more is inclined to take. In other words, although in opera,
generally speaking, the music is of most importance, which of course
possesses a content in partnership with the poetry and the libretto,
albeit it treats and executes the same freely as it thinks best, yet in
more recent times, and particularly among ourselves, it has become
increasingly an affair of luxurious display. It has carried its
accessoires, in the splendour of its decorations, the pomp of its
costumes, the completeness of its choruses and their grouping, to a
degree of independence that throws all else into the shade. It was a
magnificence of this kind, sufficiently criticized among ourselves,
which Cicero long ago complains of when referring to Roman
tragedy. In tragedy, where the poetry is always the most essential
thing, such a lavish display of the sensuous side of things is no
doubt not in its right place, although Schiller, in his "Maid of
Orleans," shows a tendency here to run astray. In the opera, on the
contrary, with its sensuous exuberance of song and the melodic,
thundering chorus of voices and instruments, we may with more
reason admit such an emphasized charm of external embellishment
and display. If the decorations are splendid, then the groups and
processions, to give point to them, must be equally gorgeous, and
everything else must be adapted to the same scale. The subject
most suited to a sensuous luxuriance of this kind, which, no doubt,
is always some indication of the decline of genuine art, is that part
of the entire performance which inclines to the wonderful, fantastic,
or fairy tale. Mozart, in his "Magic Flute," has supplied us with an
example which is not too extravagant, and is worked out on
completely artistic lines. At the same time, we may entirely exhaust
all the arts of scenic display, costume, instrumentation and the rest,
but the fact remains that, if we are not really in earnest with that
part of the content which concerns real dramatic action, the
impression upon us can be at the strongest merely that of a perusal
of the fairy-tale of "The Thousand and One Nights."
(γ) The same observations apply to the modern Ballet, which above
all is most suited to fairy-land and miracle of all kinds. Here, too, we
note as one supreme feature, quite apart from the picturesque
beauty of the grouping and tableaux, the kaleidoscopic splendour
and fascination of the decorations, costumes, and lighting, to an
extent that ordinary persons find themselves transported into a
world in which common sense and the laws and pressure of our
daily life vanish altogether. As a further aspect of these
performances, connoisseurs in such subjects will go into ecstacies
over the elaborately trained dexterity and virtuosity of legs, which is
nowadays an essential feature of the dance. If, however, any more
spiritual significance is to flash athwart such mere physical agility,
which we have reduced to the final ultimatum of senselessness and
ideal poverty, we ought to have associated with the complete
command over all the executive difficulties implied a real measure
and euphony of movement, a freedom and grace such as finds a
response in the soul; and it is only very rarely that we do so. As a
further element in association with the dance here, which stands in
the place of the choruses and solos of the opera, we find as real
expression of action the Pantomime. This, however, in proportion as
our modern dance has advanced in technical dexterity, has fallen
from the rank which it once possessed, and, indeed, has so
deteriorated that the very thing tends once more to drop out of the
modern ballet altogether, which is alone able to lift the same into the
free domain of art.

3. THE TYPES OF DRAMATIC POETRY AND THE PRINCIPAL PHASES OF


THEIR HISTORICAL DEVELOPMENT.

Viewing for a moment the course of our present inquiry in


retrospect, it will be seen that we have, first, established the
principle of dramatic poetry in its widest and more specific
characteristics, and, further, in its relation to the general public.
Secondly, we deduced from the fact of the drama's presenting an
action distinct and independent in its actually visible development
the conclusion that a fully complete sensuous reproduction is also
essential, such as is for the first time possible under artistic
conditions in the theatrical performance. In order that the action,
however, may adapt itself to an external realization of this kind, it is
necessary that both in poetic conception and detailed execution it
should be absolutely definite and complete. This is only effected, our
third point, by resolving dramatic poetry into particular types,
receiving their typical character, which is in part one of opposition
and also one of mediatory relation to such opposition, from the
distinction, in which not only the end but also the characters, as also
the conflict and entire result of the action, are manifested. The most
important aspects emphasized by such distinction and subject to an
historical development are those peculiar to tragedy and comedy
respectively, as also the comparative value of either mode of
composition. This inquiry in dramatic poetry is for the first time so
essentially important that it forms the basis of classification for the
different types.
In considering more closely the nature of these distinctions we shall
do well to discuss their subject-matter in the following order.
First, we must define the general principle of tragedy, comedy, and
the so-called drama.
Secondly, we must indicate the character of ancient and modern
dramatic poetry, to the contrast between which the distinctive
relation of the above-named types is referable in their historical
development.
Thirdly, we will attempt, in conclusion, to examine the concrete
modes, which these types, though mainly comedy and tragedy, are
able to exhibit within the boundary of this opposition.
(a) The Principle of Tragedy, Comedy, and the Drama, or Social Play
The essential basis of differentiation among the types of epic poetry
is to be found in the distinction whether the essentially substantive
displayed in the epic manner is expressed in its universality, or is
communicated in the form of objective characters, exploits, and
events. In contrast to this, the classification of lyric poetry, in its
series of varied modes of expression, is dependent upon the degree
and specific form in which the content is assimilated in more or less
stable consistency with the soul experience, according as such
content asserts this intimate life. And, finally, dramatic poetry, which
accepts as its centre of significance the collision of aims and
characters, as also the necessary resolution of such a conflict,
cannot do otherwise than deduce the principle of its separate types
from the relation in which individual persons are placed relatively to
their purpose and its content. The definition of this relation is, in
short, the decisive factor in the determination of the particular mode
of dramatic schism and the issue therefrom, and consequently
presents the essential type of the entire process in its animated and
artistic display. The fundamental points we have to examine in this
connection are, speaking broadly, those phases or features in the
process, the mediation of which constitutes the essential purport of
every true action. Such are from one point of view the substantively
sound and great, the fundamental stratum of the realized divine
nature in the world, regarded here as the genuine and essentially
eternal content of individual character and end. And, on its other
side, we have the personal conscious life simply as such in its
unhampered power of self-determination and freedom. Without
doubt, essential and explicit truth is asserted in dramatic poetry; it
matters not in what form it may be manifested from time to time in
human action. The specific type, however, within which this activity
is made visible receives a distinct or, rather, actually opposed
configuration, according as the aspect of substantive worth or in its
opposition thereto, that of individual caprice, folly, and perversity is
retained as the distinctive modus of operation either in individuals,
actions, or conflicts.
We have therefore to consider the principle in its distinctive relation
to the following types:
First, as associated with tragedy in its substantive and primitive
form.
Secondly, in its relation to comedy, in which the life of the individual
soul as such in volition and action, as well as the external factor of
contingency, are predominant over all relations and ends.
Thirdly, in that to the drama, the theatrical piece in the more
restricted use of the term, regarding such as the middle term
between the two first-mentioned types.
(α) With respect to tragedy, I will here confine myself to a
consideration of only the most general and essential characteristics,
the more concrete differentiation of which can only be made clear by
a review of the distinctive features implied in the stages of its
historical process.
(αα) The genuine content of tragic action subject to the aims which
arrest tragic characters is supplied by the world of those forces
which carry in themselves their own justification, and are realized
substantively in the volitional activity of mankind. Such are the love
of husband and wife, of parents, children, and kinsfolk. Such are,
further, the life of communities, the patriotism of citizens, the will of
those in supreme power. Such are the life of churches, not, however,
if regarded as a piety which submits to act with resignation, or as a
divine judicial declaration in the heart of mankind over what is good
or the reverse in action; but, on the contrary, conceived as the active
engagement with and demand for veritable interests and relations. It
is of a soundness and thoroughness consonant with these that the
really tragical characters consist. They are throughout that which the
essential notion of their character enables them and compels them
to be. They are not merely a varied totality laid out in the series of
views of it proper to the epic manner; they are, while no doubt
remaining also essentially vital and individual, still only the one
power of the particular character in question, the force in which such
a character, in virtue of its essential personality, has made itself
inseparably coalesce with some particular aspect of the capital and
substantive life-content we have indicated above, and deliberately
commits himself to that. It is at some such elevation, where the
mere accidents of unmediated[25] individuality vanish altogether,
that we find the tragic heroes of dramatic art, whether they be the
living representatives of such spheres of concrete life or in any other
way already so derive their greatness and stability from their own
free self-reliance that they stand forth as works of sculpture, and as
such interpret, too, under this aspect the essentially more abstract
statues and figures of gods, as also the lofty tragic characters of the
Greeks more completely than is possible for any other kind of
elucidation or commentary.
Broadly speaking, we may, therefore, affirm that the true theme of
primitive tragedy is the godlike.[26] But by godlike we do not mean
the Divine, as implied in the content of the religious consciousness
simply as such, but rather as it enters into the world, into individual
action, and enters in such a way that it does not forfeit its
substantive character under this mode of realization, nor find itself
converted into the contradiction of its own substance.[27] In this
form the spiritual substance of volition and accomplishment is ethical
life.[28] For what is ethical, if we grasp it, in its direct consistency—
that is to say, not exclusively from the standpoint of personal
reflection as formal morality—is the divine in its secular or world
realization, the substantive as such, the particular no less than the
essential features of which supply the changing content of truly
human actions, and in such action itself render this their essence
explicit and actual.
(ββ) These ethical forces, as also the characters of the action, are
distinctively defined in respect to their content and their individual
personality, in virtue of the principle of differentiation to which
everything is subject, which forms part of the objective world of
things. If, then, these particular forces, in the way presupposed by
dramatic poetry, are attached to the external expression of human
activity, and are realized as the determinate aim of a human pathos
which passes into action, their concordancy is cancelled, and they
are asserted in contrast to each other in interchangeable succession.
Individual action will then, under given conditions, realize an object
or character, which, under such a presupposed state, inevitably
stimulates the presence of a pathos[29] opposed to itself, because it
occupies a position of unique isolation in virtue of its independently
fixed definition, and, by doing so, brings in its train unavoidable
conflicts. Primitive tragedy, then, consists in this, that within a
collision of this kind both sides of the contradiction, if taken by
themselves, are justified; yet, from a further point of view, they tend
to carry into effect the true and positive content of their end and
specific characterization merely as the negation and violation of the
other equally legitimate power, and consequently in their ethical
purport and relatively to this so far fall under condemnation.
I have already adverted to the general ground of the necessity of
this conflict. The substance of ethical condition is, when viewed as
concrete unity, a totality of different relations and forces, which,
however, only under the inactive condition of the gods in their
blessedness achieve the works of the Spirit in enjoyment of an
undisturbed life. In contrast to this, however, there is no less
certainly implied in the notion of this totality itself an impulse to
move from its, in the first instance, still abstract ideality, and
transplant itself in the real actuality of the phenomenal world. On
account of the nature of this primitive obsession,[30] it comes about
that mere difference, if conceived on the basis of definite conditions
of individual personalities, must inevitably associate with
contradiction and collision. Only such a view can pretend to deal
seriously with those gods which, though they endure in their tranquil
repose and unity in the Olympus and heaven of imagination and
religious conception, yet, in so far as they are actual,[31] viewed at
least as the energic in the definite pathos of a human personality,
participate in concrete life, all other claims notwithstanding, and, in
virtue of their specific singularity and their mutual opposition, render
both blame and wrong inevitable.
(γγ) As a result of this, however, an unmediated contradiction is
posited, which no doubt may assert itself in the Real, but, for all
that, is unable to maintain itself as that which is wholly substantive
and verily real therein; which rather discovers, and only discovers,
its essential justification in the fact that it is able to annul itself as
such contradiction. In other words, whatever may be the claim of
the tragic final purpose and personality, whatever may be the
necessity of the tragic collision, it is, as a consequence of our
present view, no less a claim that is asserted—this is our third and
last point—by the tragic resolution of this division. It is through this
latter result that Eternal Justice is operative in such aims and
individuals under a mode whereby it restores the ethical substance
and unity in and along with the downfall of the individuality which
disturbs its repose. For, despite the fact that individual characters
propose that which is itself essentially valid, yet they are only able to
carry it out under the tragic demand in a manner that implies
contradiction and with a onesidedness which is injurious. What,
however, is substantive in truth, and the function of which is to
secure realization, is not the battle of particular unities, however
much such a conflict is essentially involved in the notion of a real
world and human action; rather it is the reconciliation in which
definite ends and individuals unite in harmonious action without
mutual violation and contradiction. That which is abrogated in the
tragic issue is merely the one-sided particularity which was unable to
accommodate itself to this harmony, and consequently in the tragic
course of its action, through inability to disengage itself from itself
and its designs, either is committed in its entire totality to
destruction or at least finds itself compelled to fall back upon a state
of resignation in the execution of its aim in so far as it can carry this
out. We are reminded of the famous dictum of Aristotle that the true
effect of tragedy is to excite and purify fear and pity. By this
statement Aristotle did not mean merely the concordant or
discordant feeling with anybody's private experience, a feeling
simply of pleasure or the reverse, an attraction or a repulsion, that
most superficial of all psychological states, which only in recent
times theorists have sought to identify with the principle of assent or
dissent as ordinarily expressed. For in a work of art the matter of
exclusive importance should be the display of that which is
conformable with the reason and truth of Spirit; and to discover the
principle of this we have to direct our attention to wholly different
points of view. And consequently we are not justified in restricting
the application of this dictum of Aristotle merely to the emotion of
fear and pity, but should relate it to the principle of the content the
appropriately artistic display of which ought to purify such feelings.
Man may, on the one hand, entertain fear when confronted with that
which is outside him and finite; but he may likewise shrink before
the power of that which is the essential and absolute subsistency of
social phenomena.[32] That which mankind has therefore in truth to
fear is not the external power and its oppression, but the ethical
might which is self-defined in its own free rationality, and partakes
further of the eternal and inviolable, the power a man summons
against his own being when he turns his back upon it. And just as
fear may have two objectives, so also too compassion. The first is
just the ordinary sensibility—in other words, a sympathy with the
misfortunes and sufferings of another, and one which is experienced
as something finite and negative. Your countrified cousin is ready
enough with compassion of this order. The man of nobility and
greatness, however, has no wish to be smothered with this sort of
pity. For just to the extent that it is merely the nugatory aspect, the
negative of misfortune which is asserted, a real depreciation of
misfortune is implied. True sympathy, on the contrary, is an
accordant feeling with the ethical claim at the same time associated
with the sufferer—that is, with what is necessarily implied in his
condition as affirmative and substantive. Such a pity as this is not, of
course, excited by ragamuffins and vagabonds. If the tragic
character, therefore, just as he aroused our fear when contemplating
the might of violated morality, is to awake a tragic sympathy in his
misfortune, he must himself essentially possess real capacity and
downright character. It is only that which has a genuine content
which strikes the heart of a man of noble feeling, and rings through
its depths. Consequently we ought by no means to identify our
interest in the tragic dénouement with the simple satisfaction that a
sad story, a misfortune merely as misfortune, should have a claim
upon our sympathy. Feelings of lament of this type may well enough
assail men on occasions of wholly external contingency and related
circumstance, to which the individual does not contribute, nor for
which he is responsible, such cases as illness, loss of property,
death, and the like. The only real and absorbing interest in such
cases ought to be an eager desire to afford immediate assistance. If
this is impossible, such pictures of lamentation and misery merely
rack the feelings. A veritable tragic suffering, on the contrary, is
suspended over active characters entirely as the consequence of
their own act, which as such not only asserts its claim upon us, but
becomes subject to blame through the collision it involves, and in
which such individuals identify themselves heart and soul.
Over and above mere fear and tragic sympathy we have therefore
the feeling of reconciliation, which tragedy is vouched for in virtue of
its vision of eternal justice, a justice which exercises a paramount
force of absolute constringency on account of the relative claim of all
merely contracted aims and passions; and it can do this for the
reason that it is unable to tolerate the victorious issue and
continuance in the truth of the objective world of such a conflict with
and opposition to those ethical powers which are fundamentally and
essentially concordant.[33] Inasmuch as then, in conformity with this
principle, all that pertains to tragedy pre-eminently rests upon the
contemplation of such a conflict and its resolution, dramatic poetry is
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