teresting, is that which does not add to our knowledge of any
kind; that which is vaguely conceived and loosely drawn; a
representation which is general, indeterminate, and faint, instead of
being particular, precise, and firm.

Any accurate representation may therefore be expected to be
interesting; but, if the representation be a poetical one, more than
this is demanded. It is demanded, not only that it shall interest, but
also that it shall inspirit and rejoice the reader: that it shall
convey a charm, and infuse delight. For the Muses, as Hesiod says,
were born that they might be 'a forgetfulness of evils, and a truce
from cares'; and it is not enough that the Poet should add to the
knowledge of men, it is required of him also that he should add to
their happiness. 'All Art', says Schiller, 'is dedicated to Joy, and
there is no higher and no more serious problem, than how to make men
happy. The right Art is that alone, which creates the highest
enjoyment.'

A poetical work, therefore, is not yet justified when it has been
shown to be an accurate, and therefore interesting, representation; it
has to be shown also that it is a representation from which men can
derive enjoyment. In presence of the most tragic circumstances,
represented in a work of Art, the feeling of enjoyment, as is well
known, may still subsist: the representation of the most utter
calamity, of the liveliest anguish, is not sufficient to destroy it:
the more tragic the situation, the deeper becomes the enjoyment; and
the situation is more tragic in proportion as it becomes more
terrible.

What then are the situations, from the representation of which, though
accurate, no poetical enjoyment can be derived? They are those in
which the suffering finds no vent in action; in which a continuous
state of mental distress is prolonged, unrelieved by incident, hope,
or resistance; in which there is everything to be endured, nothing to
be done. In such situations there is inevitably something morbid, in
the description of them something monotonous. When they occur in
actual life, they are painful, not tragic; the representation of them
in poetry is painful also.

To this class of situations, poetically faulty as it appears to me,
that of Empedocles, as I have endeavoured to represent him, belongs;
and I have therefore excluded the Poem from the present collection.

And why, it may be asked, have I entered into this explanation
respecting a matter so uni