tion too may be taken in a negative sense--whereas,
what is really requisite is to oppose to Passion a positive force. For
as Virtue consists, not in the absence of passions, but in the mastery
of the spirit over them, so Beauty is preserved, not by their removal
or abatement, but by the mastery of Beauty over them.

The forces of Passion must actually show themselves--it must be seen
that they are prepared to rise in mutiny, but are kept down by the
power of Character, and break against the forms of firmly-founded
Beauty, as the waves of a stream that just fills, but cannot overflow
its banks. Otherwise, this striving after moderation would resemble
only the method of those shallow moralists, who, the more readily
to dispose of Man, prefer to mutilate his nature; and who have so
entirely removed every positive element from actions that the
people gloat over the spectacle of great crimes, in order to refresh
themselves at last with the view of something positive.

In Nature and Art the Essence strives first after actualization,
or exhibition of itself in the Particular. Thus in each the utmost
severity is manifested at the commencement; for without bound, the
boundless could not appear; without severity, gentleness could not
exist; and if unity is to be perceptible, it can only be through
particularity, detachment, and opposition. In the beginning,
therefore, the creative spirit shows itself entirely lost in the Form,
inaccessibly shut up, and even in its grandeur still harsh. But the
more it succeeds in uniting its entire fulness in one product, the
more it gradually relaxes from its severity; and where it has fully
developed the form, so as to rest contented and self-collected in it,
it seems to become cheerful and begins to move in gentle lines. This
is the period of its fairest maturity and blossom, in which the pure
vessel has arrived at perfection; the spirit of Nature becomes free
from its bonds, and feels its relationship to the soul. By a gentle
morning blush stealing over the whole form, the coming soul announces
itself; it is not yet present, but everything prepares for its
reception by the delicate play of gentle movements; the rigid outlines
melt and temper themselves into flexibility; a lovely essence, neither
sensuous nor spiritual, but which cannot be grasped, diffuses itself
over the form, and intwines itself with every outline, every vibration
of the frame.

This essence, not to be seized, as we hav