Coleridge on Dramatic Illusion
J. K. Toole
English 787
Dr. Fogle
January 13, 1958
'
Coleridge's theories of dramatic for.m, scope, and
effect serve principally as the means to an end; his
attempt to depart from the neo-classicists in interpretI.
ing Shakespearets art.
During the eighteenth century
Shakespearian criticism had largely suffered from a6)
K
~
( existing} predilection for the generally accepted, and
at times misinterpreted, classical rules of dramatic
form.
t
For the neo-classicists, as Raysor points out,
there could be no dramatic illusion if the three ultimately Greek unities were disregarded.
This, in turn,
had created a condescending attitude toward Shakespeare
as the happy, but ignorant child of genius.
However,
"to Coleridge Shakespeare was consciously and purposively a poet. 11 1 Coleridge's desire to escape the neo- classical insistence upon judging the dramatist by arbitrary
standards, and particularly the st andard of the three
famous unities, leads Raysor to say:
"In no other part
of his controversy with eighteenth c entury criticism
1 Ernest Bernbaum, Q~ Through the Romantic :Move~
(New York, 1949), 86.
-2-
was Coleridge so sure o! himself as in defending
Shakespeare's violation of the unities." 2 For Coleridge dramatic illusion was not necessarily dependent
upon these unities.
Therefore, he decided quite logically that the
whole controversy "could not be settled without interpreting the effect of a good play upon the imagination
of the audience." :3 Even without defining terms, it is
certainly a truism that any form o! theatrical representation, or, rather, stage presentation, must of necessity
direct a large part o! its force toward making the audience imagine what the st&ge cannot possibly represent.
s a test o! the illusory qualities o! any play the directness and simplicity o! Coleridge's proposition transcends the critical theorizing of the neo-classicists.
It
a~peals
to a practical criterion rather than a theoret-
ical criterion and forms the basis !or Coleridge's definition o! dramatic illusion while, at the same time, it
frees Coleridge !rom dependence
ical theories.
e
;zt
~pon
preco
r, ·
,_&.~
~
·
~
·
~ ..(~,...... ~ ~4 /t ~ ;_ \
,<!<' v
Be! ore Coleridge the traditional defense o! the
three unities was the French {and ultimately Italian)
2
Coleridge's
Shrucespe~rian
Criticism, ed. T. M.
Raysor {Cambridge, Mass., 19:30), I, ~xviii.
:3 Ibid.
.
~4:..e..- ;tL ~
J.y In
#, ~ ·
,._.
I
-:3-
theory of "literal delusion" which suggested that the
t heater audience was "literally deluded" or, more simply, "completely fooled" by what transpired on the st age.
But this theory which presupposed a perfect delusion
4
needed, as Coleridge felt, "no fresh confutation."
If, h owever, this was not the immediate end or object of
t he drama, neither was Dr. Johnson's radically opposed
theory tha t the audience was at no time deluded by
s tage pr e sentation. "In evincing the impossibility of
delusion," Coleridge says, "he (Dr. Johnson) makes no
s uf f icient allowance for an intermediate sta te, which
we distinguish by the term illusion." 5
The drama
mu~t
produce as much illusion as is pos-
sible, and the highest degree of illusion which man ie
capable of experiencing is in the st ate of dreaming.
To understand more fully Coleridge's notion of illusion,
it is nec e ss a ry first to consider his approach to dreams.
The subjec t of dreams, visions, and the supernatural
fascinated Coleridge, and he had ho ped at one time to
devote an entire work to this subject.
faith in t he supernatural
per~,
He placed little
for he found that no
one who cla imed supernatural contact ha d ever suffered
the observable trauma which would naturally result from
4
5
Ibid. , I, 128.
Ibid. , I, 129.
-4-
such experience.
t best, supernatural contact was
itself an illusion, for illusion leaves no permanent
effects, as, waking from a dream, our experiences in
the dream fade from our consciousness and are normally
forgotten:
I have thought it a mistake, tho' a very general
one, that in ordinary dreams we judge the objects
to be real. The fact is thatFve simply do not determine that they are unreal; and the sensations,
which they seem to occasion, are in truth the
causes and occasions of the images - of which
there are two obvious proofs: first, that the
strangest and most sudden transformations do not
produce any sensation of surprise; and the second
that (in dreaming of) the most dreadful ima ges,
which during the dream were accompanied with agonies
of terror, we merely wake or even turn round on the
other side, and off fly both image and agony, \,hich
would be impossible i[ the sensations were produced by the images.
In dreams, sensation causes the
im ~ge,
In addition to this, in dreams
thoughts, now free from the effects
rather than image
is possible
,.
l .....
tt
for ~
~,
J,
A /,~ fo e-0~
the~ _s~ns~~ ;o ~ - ~-)
c
crystallize themselves into realities- while at the same u
time these realities remain no more than illusion.
This
concept leads to an even more penetrating interpretation
of dreams in that it evolves into a dream-art theory,
and, more particularly, a dream-drama theory.
It is pos-
sible for thoughts in slumber to develop at times into
6 Coleridge's Miscellaneous Criticism, ed. T. M.
Rays or (Cambridge, Mass., 1936 (, .197.
I\
.}....-
'V
/J
/)
u..u_ 1:!::.. ~· ~
,.A.
~
,
-rt~ ' "
r-ft.--
~--c.v-~ J :ttv~
··· ~.
the
dar;.am"~A..<a_.t...i..c,. .,j ~o'-r"....,-
as J arne s Volant
-5-
Baker~~emark s
rela ti on to this theory: "The dullest
o:f,
s ays, in dreams bec omes a Shakespea. re."
in
as Coleridge
Baker points
out that this suggests associ a tion at work in dreams,
t h at the "dream-work" or Freudian Traum- rbeit "is
8
often the matrix or a rtistic creation."
Coleridge
himself cla imed tha t he comp osed no less tha n from 200
to 300 lines of ni(ubla Khan" while, from all external
evidence, ne
we:~ s
asleep.
.!!'or, even in sleep, the im-
a gina tion , "the true inward creatrix," is active.
The condition of the mind in dreams - what might be
called a "naturally enforced suspension of dis-belief" and the "willing suspension of disbelief" of a the a ter
a udience differ only in degree.
Successful dramatic
illusion is perhaps, but not necessarily, a less perfect
illusion t han the perfectly natural illusion of the
dream:
In sleep we pass at once by a sudden collapse
into this suspension of will and the comparative
power; whereas in an interesting play, read or
represented, we are brought up to this point,
as far as it is requisite or desirable, gradually,
by the art of the poet and the actors; and with
the consent . and positive a~dance of our ow.n will.
e choose to be deceived.
7 James Volant Baker, The Sacred River (Baton Rouge,
La., 195?), pp. 154-159
8 Ibid., 155.
9
Coleridge's
Shak e spe a ~iag
Criticism, I, 129.
-6-
4f
Dorothy I. M~
10
sees Coleridge's theory of
illusion as being composed of three elements:
the
dream figure, the concept of the suspension of the camparing power, and the idea that the suspension of the act
of comparison, which produces this "negative belief," is
s in dreams, the drama to Cole-
assisted by the will.
ridge 11 is never to be believed real.
The utmost point
to which we can arrive, is that we do not think about
its being real or false, but are affected only by the
vividness or the im.l: ression independent or the thought
of reality." 11
.cl;arl Leslie Griggs feels that "his
(Coleridge's) own poems afford a superb example of the
concept he took so much pains to explain." 12 .A.lthough
Griggs equates
11
willing suspension of dis-belief" with
"dro.matic illusion, 11 he differentiates between them on
the basis that the former
a ~ plies
to supernatural poetry
and the latter to drama.
However exacting this defini-
tion of terms, Griggs continuee by showing that in the
"Ancient Mariner" Coleridge emphasizes the superna tural
in gaining a state of willing illusion, and in ""'hristabel" he employs the preternatural to lift the reader
J~- 7
10 Dorothy
orrill, MLN, XLII (November, 1927),
I\
436-44~
11 Coleridge's Shakespearian Criticism, II, 83.
12 Earl Leslie Griggs, " 'The Willing Suspension
of Dis- belief' ",
A
~lizabethan
Studies and Other Essays
~-.~
.
~--------------------------~I
-?-
into the realms of witchcraft.
Of particular imp or-.
tance, however , is Coleridge's own stea.tement, in discussing the plc n of the
1
~ical
Ballads, that he
ished "to procure for these shadows of imagination
th ~t
willing suspension of disbelief for the moment,
which constitutes poetic faith."
13
If we recall thea.t
Coleridge felt Shakespeare's plays to be the revel&.tion
of romantic p~otry in the drama, this concept of "po- ;
etic faith" is equally applicable to Shakespearian
1f
drama.
This "willing suspension of dis-belief," thie
"poetic faith,
11
this "dramatic illusion,
mediate end of the drama.
11
is the im-
Consequently, the poet-dram- ·
utist must find within his abilities the power to induce this state of "waking dream" within the mentalities
of his audience.
In creating and maintaining this
illusory state, the dramatic poet relies upon the imagination, the re a son, and the most noble
human heart.
14
po~ers
of the
The last of these, undoubtedly, is a
f kr greater abstraction than are the first two terme,
and, in regard to the first two, Coleridge, had ccnceived of fairly articula te definit ions.
--------------
By the imag-
(in honor of George F. Reynolds), University of Colorado
Studies, Series B, II, (October, 1945), pp. 2?2-286.
13
.
.
B1ograEhla Literaria, ed. J. Shawcross (Oxford,
190?), II, 6.
14
Coleridge's ShakesEe ea.rian Criticism, II, 161.
-8-
ination, we(!tay take it to)mean Coleridge's D · GI~ATION,
both primary and secondary.
15
The terminol-
ogy of imagination in connection with the dramatic
poet presupposes the use of the primary Imagination
which, basically, is simple perception.
Therefore,
this usage r equires the secondary Imagination which
co-ezists with the conscious will, differing from the
primary only in degree and in its manner of operating.
The secondary imagination
"dissolves, diffuses, dis-
sipates in order to recreate; or where this process is
rendered impossible, yet still at all events it struggles
to idec..lize a nd to unify."
It is the same power as the
primary in a heightened degree and, as Shawcross explains,
enables its posessor to see the real significc.:,nce of the
world of common experience.
The
p~imary
imagination
may be in all men, but the secondary is more selective
and unusual.
Artistic creations are the embodiment of
the second a ry ability to visualize real significance.
The imagination is the fulcrum of the mind, linking the
active mind with the passive mind, and in the creative
act there is a balance or reconciliation of pov.rerR active and passive, for which Baker would substitute the
15 Biographia Literaria, I, 202.
-9-
terms "conscious" and"unconscious." The Imagination
unifies while it shapes.
Shawcross' Notes 16 clarify the specific meaning
of reason to Coleridge.
Without reason, man is but a
Thing, for reason is . the faculty of the supersensuous
upon which all morality is founded.
Correspondingly,
reason suggests all that distinguishes man from animal: the ability to reflect, to compare, to suspend the
mind.
Certainties of reason are eternal truths, for
the reaso n is removed from both space and time.
As an
example of his meaning here, Coleridge suggests the endless properties of the circle which have connection witb
neither time nor space.
The imagination, however, is
an arbitrary controller over ·both time and space, and,
if the dramatist succeeds in making his audience present
to the scene he presents principally in imagination,
"he acquires the right and privilege of using time and
space as they exist in the imagination, and obedient only
to the laws by which the imagination itself acts." 1?
The final mention
of "the noblest powers of the hu-
1 6 Biographia Literaria, I, 250.
17 Coleridge's qomp1ete Works, ed. Prof.
Shedd (New York, 1884), IV, 36.
w.
G. T.
-10-
man he a rt" is, by its very terminology, suggestive of
i
inherently deep and inward human sentiments.
This seems
to be the "workings of the pa ssions in their most retired
recesses," 18 the most basic and universal qualities of
human na ture or the human heart.
~11
----?j
of these standards
presented for the dramatist combine, or should potential-
_____
ly combine, to form
which in its uni......_ a dramatic........ whole
(,.
~
~
vers a lity transcends the requirements of literary convent i on •
.
.A.t another point in his critic ism, 19 Coleridge en, , larges
~~~::!'~~or
q),-~~
...
cations of t hese words will suffice, for they ar.e not
A~
, ,.~;t-·•,
~
to the imagery; the poet should not subvert logic unless
it is really necessary.). However, almost in an afterthought, Coleridge continues by adding "fancy and a quick
of Coleridge's
differentiation betwe en the terms Imagination and Fancy,20
19
20
Coleridge's Shakespearian Criticism, II, 206.
I. A. Richards, Coleridge 2n
York, 1935), pp. 72-82
Im ~~nation
(New
ClP"''
~-p
held for Coleridge (good sense: There must be subs.tapce
Ibid., IV, 36.
;.Y
•
1.iJ.;v ~,,U~•·~"
essentially different from the implications these terms
In his discussion
.
. ~t
To avoid ""....-1(
an unnecessary definition of terms, the accepted impli-
18
r'l~t,.
the poet-dramatist by : : ; : ; ; _t'fJ..,
adding ~o~~:,alents, and sensibility.
sense of beauty."
r""f/
1J
-11'
r.
A. Richards sees, with Coleridge, Imagination as an
esemplastic power, a bringing into one) whereas the FanI
cy is capable only of assembling and aggregating.
Ac-
cordingly, the ima ges which the Fancy puts together remain the same as when they were apart.
&§.:!!~
rather tha n integrates.
The Fancy aggre-
Imagination is the soul,
but Fancy is the drapery necessary for presenting this
soul.
The former is organic, the latter mechanical.
In the phrase "sense of beauty" there is the sug-
gestion of contemplation of the Beautiful which, in its
'-~ 1
• essential'IY, is "that in which tf).e many, still seen as
many, bee ames one.'' 21 Beauty is ".Mul ti~ty in Unity, 11
uniformity in variety, and, like Fancy, an external
unity.
A sense of beauty is intuitive.
~ccordingly,
the reliance upon Imagination, reason,
the depth of human sentiment, and the terms finally menI
tioned allows the drama tist to divorce his artistic creation from "the iron bondage of space and time." The dramatic poet appeals to that vhich the human most wishes to
be when he is most worthy of being,
,.
••• while the ancient dramatist binds us down to
the meanest part of our nature, and the chief compensation is a simple acquiescence of the mind in
the position, that what is represented might po~­
sibly h a ve occurred in the time and place required
by the unities •••• In dramatic composition the
2 l ~io g raphi~ Literaria, II, 232.
- -.
7
-12-
observation of the unities of time and place
s o na rrows the period of action, so impoverishes the sources of pleasure, that of a ll the
jthen ian dramas there is scarcely one in which
the absurdity is not glaring, of aiming at an
object, an~ utterly failing in the a ttainment
of it.. • • 2
The three unities bind the drama tist and can give
a play a c ontrived, even unnatural effect, the result
of striving to maintain a literary and dramatic conventi on which, in turn, has perh aps caused the play to lose
its ab ility to cr eate and sustain within the audience
?
that "wil ling
su sp en~ion
of dis-belief."
Schlegel felt
that "t hese a natomical ideas (the three unities), which
have been sta nped as rules, are below the essential
requisites of poetry." 23 Both Schlegel and Cole ridge
felt that the ancient was allied to statuary, the modern
to painting, and where, correspondingly, the former tended toward t he finite, the l a tter tended toward the infinite.
The former was plas tic, the l a tter picturesque.
11 of this terminology suggests simplicity of concep-
tion, form, and design in the
1
anci ~nt
and expressive richness in the modem.
and a more varied
In the context
of the ancient the unities had existed, but their only
-----~--··
..
effect upon the modern would be to unduly regiment, to
categorize and -' limit where c ategories and limitations
2 2 £oleridge's Shakespearian Criticism, II, 161.
23
~ugust
Wilhelm Schlegel, Lectures
and Literature (London, 1889), 240.
~
Dramatic
-rt
-13-
cou ld only exist as figurative locke and chains and
ba rriers.
The three unities represented the destruc-
tion of a ll tha t was inherent in Coleridge's scheme of
i mag ina tion, reason, and the univers a lly basic qualities
of t he human heart.
But the concept of unity per ~presents itself(so) ~
often in Coleridge, particularly if we study such
hS
e~amples
the relationship and unity between terms like Under-
s t a nding and primary Imagination and Reason and secondary
Im~gin ation.
In Coleridge unity is a constant.
fore, in his critica l study
o~
There-
the drama it ie under-
standable tha t, although he nega tes the v alue of the
three me chanical unities, it is not intended to preclude
the nece ·sity for a nother, less formally and superficially regimented, type of unity.
For, so far as mechanical
criteria are conc erned, Coleridge says, "Could a rule be
given from without, poetry would cease to be poetry and
sink into a mechanical art." 24
Schlegel c onceived of "a deeper, more intrinsic, and
more mysterious unity than tha t with which most critics
are satisfied." 25
To Coleridge this was to be a tran-
scendent unity in that it would transcend the arbitrary
rule from without.
Bec a use of the universality of artis-
tic ~uc: resulting from Coleridge's suggestions for
24
25
Biogr~phi~
Literaria, II, 65.
Schlegel, 252.
-14-
the dramatist, the resultant unity must alro be universally applicable while, at the same time, remaining
organic, or inwardly generated, rather than mechanical,
or outwardly superimp osed:
Instead of unity of action I should great(ly)
prefer the more appropri a te tho' scholastic
and uncouth words - homogeneity, proportionateness, and totality of interest. The distinction,
or rather the essential difference, betwixt the
shapi ng skill of mechm ical talent, and the
creative, productive life-power of inspired
genius: In the former each part (is) separately
conceived and then by a succeeding act put to
gether •••• 26
lhereas, the unity should be generated organically, by
the relation of component parts , each to each, and of
all to a whole.
There is also the suggestion of a
single energy existing in modifications in each component part.
Therefore,
••• unity of interest, with distinctness and
subordi nation of the characters, appropriateness
of styl~, nay, and the charm of l anguage and sentiment for their own sakes, yet still as far as
they tend to increase the inward excitement, are
all means to this c hief end, that of p~~ducing
and supporting this willing illusion.
The organiza tion of this unity is directed toward
placing the mind of the audience in the sta te in which
the images of the dramatist will h ave a negative reality.
The dramatic poet's characteristics of language, passion,
and character should ~ct and ~~ (each to each, and all
~e
27
Coleridge's Shakespearian Criticism, I, 4.
Ibid., I, 130.
-15-
to a whole) upon each other, and, consequently, "anything that must force itself on the auditors' mind as
improbable, not because it is
improbable (for that the
whole play is foreknown to be) but because it cannot
C-AN O{<HP-0'1'
but appear as
TH ~~ Uf.!Jl'\",
such ~ " 28~ Every
scene, every speech of
the play should be constructed so that, upon examination, it is conceiv able that people in such situations
would aimarly perform.
It is upon this ground that
Coleridge attacked the overly-polished wit of the French
drama.
whole
Even though the thesis or proposition of the
of the drama might be impossible {as, for exalll-
ple, in fantasies), each part should be still proportion;.te to that whole, thus maintaining that inward
unity.
No matter how improbable the whole might be,
the characters in each part must act and re a ct as it
( v.ould
see: lo~id-~1-,to- ~d
im~robable
.•
react under similarly
.
conditions •
.A.s Griggs notes, dramatic illusion "depends upon
the dramatic probability which the poet induces the
reader or spectator willingly to attribute to characters, events, or scenes, even when they border on im29
possibility."
But what makes the audience accept
or attribute a negative reality to even unnatural,
28 Ibid.
29
Griggs, 275.
-16-
supernatural, or preternatural figures in the play is
that these figures are as natural in their own con-
...
~
v
,
·
te~ts
---
as Doll Tearsheet, Bottom, and Audrey are in the
mosaic of Elizabethan
~ngland .
Coleridge was particularly sensitive to first-
scenes of plays.
The first scene~obviously) sets
the pattern which the audience must consequently follow,
and it is of particular importance for the dramatist to
gain the audiences's "willing suspension of dis-belief"
at the outset of the
pl~.
If the atmosphere of the
first scene is not in context with what follows, the
dramatist ha s begun to lose his audience before much
-
of the second act has transpired. Coleridge echoes this
~f in
his concept
~~~
rf ,dramatist and actors grad-
( ually leading the spectator up to the point where he
-
willingly suspends his dis-belief.
In
Ki~ ~Cole­
ridge felt that Shakespea re saved the play from the
"gross improbabilities" of its first scene by "matchless judgment."
ment"
The concept of Shakespe<-. .:. re's "judg-
was Coleridge's direct refutation of neo-cl a ssic
sentiment that found Shakespetl re lawless and rule-less.
allace Nethery's interpretation 30 of the term "judgment" as pertaining to "skillful management of audience30
Wall<'t ce Nethery, "Coleridge·' s Use of Judgment
in Shakespe r-_ rian Criticism," Personalist , D:XIII ( 1952),
pp. 411-415.
-1?-
holding •effects' " and "workmanshi:p" seems to suggest eJZ.actly what Coleridge was trying to avoid:
mechanically studied regularity.
Certainly the term
"judgment" implies the use of a degree of law and organization.
But it is a far higher degree than just
"effects" and "worKmanship."
It is an organic organiza-
tion, however redundant this term might sound.
The spirit of poetry, like all other living
powers, must of necessity circumscribe itself
by rules, were it only to unite power with
beauty. It must embody in order to reveal itself; but a living body is of necessity an organized one; and what is organization but the
connection of parts in and for a whoZl' so that
each part is at once end and means?
The true ground of the mistake lies in the confounding mechanical regularity with organic
form. The form is mechanic, ~en on any given
material we impress a pre-determined form, not
necessarily arising out of the properties of the
m<.:.terial.... The organic form, on the other
hand, is innate; it shapes, as it develops,
itself from within, and the fullness of its development is one and the s~~e with the perfection of its outward form.
Because of its reliance upon the imagination and
its consequent
~peal
to the imagination, the Romantic
drama has automatically esc aped the bonds of time and
space.
Coleridge was particularly fond of The Tem:pest
because it wa~primaril~
31
32
of and for the imagination.
Coleridge's Com:plete Works, ed. Shedd, IV, 54.
Ibid., 55.
-18-
As romantic drama it should be capable of creating that
inward excitement, the only genuine excitement, which
is a product of the "moved and sympathetic imagination."
Even the properties of such devicee as stage scenery
are, to a great extent, negligible in value, or, rather,
of a lower degree of illus ory value, because they are
addressed primarily to the external sense of sight and
may cause that true, inward, spiritual vision to wither •
.At all times the principal end of stage scenery is not
in or for itself, as in the case of a picture, but is
rather an assistance and means to an end out of itself the creation of the temporary half-faith, the illusion,
in connection with the whole
the drama.
of the illusory effect of
Stage scenery is an art used out
of itself
to create an harmonious whole.
In the Coleridgeian concept of unity, st age scenery is part of the dramatic whole and yet is representative of the illusion which the whole will create, as
a n elm leaf is only pa rt of the elm tree but always
representative of the elm as a whole.
The whole of the
elm tree is "presupposed" in each of its parte .
He ob-
served that children were actually deceived by stage
scenery, believing it to be the reality.
On the other
hand, the child does not positively believe that a pic-
-19ture is the reality, while, at the eame time, he does
not positively believe the contrary.
Now what pictures are to little children,
stage illusion is to men, provided they retain any part of the child's sensibility;
except,that in the l a tter instance, the suspension of the act of comparison, which permits this act of negative belief, is somewhat more assisted by the will, t~~ in that
of a child respecting a picture.
This
ij
a fine example of the organic unity existing
even in Coleridge's philosophy-criticism: his discussion of stage scenery ultima tely develops into a
definition of
st [~, ge
or drama tic illusion.
Perhaps most basic to Coleridge's discussion of
the drama
are his theories concerning art as a rticu-
lated in his essay "On Poesy or
rt." 34 .Art must first
imitate na ture rather than copy it.
In a copy we are
disgusted and disappoi nted by differences between the
copy and nature, whereas in imitation the difference is
acknowledged at the outset, and we are pleased when we
find approximations to the truth and reality of nature.
33 Ibid., 37.
34
Biogr~phia
Literaria, II, pp. 253-263.
35
ristotle: "Epic poetry, tragedy, and also comedy, dithyrambic poetry, and most music on the flute
and the lyre fall into the general class of imitation."
Imitation is refined by the skill of the artist. Allan H. Gilbert, Literary Criticism: Plato to Dryden
(New York, 1940), 69.
35
-20-
Inhe r ent in this, aleo, is the contrast between the effeet of cold wax copies of fruit and an esthetic a lly
satisfying still-life or the same fruit.
The artist
must imit a te the be a utiful in nature, and the term
"be a uty" c a rries all the Coleridgeian implicatione,
pa rticula rly, in reg a rd to the drama , in relation to
beauty in the a bstra ct.
The artist must not copy mere
na t ure ("What an idle riva lry!"), but r a ther ma ster the
essence, wh a t Coleridge c alls the "natura naturans,"
"which presupposes a bond between n a ture in the higher
sense and the soul of man."
.Ar tistic ·genius consists of the a bility . to c-r:yst a llize the "rays of i ntellect sca ttered thr oughout t he
imc...ges of n a ture" i nto a tot a l form which can be a ssim-
__
~
ila ted by the scope,..,. of th e human mind.
Qt - ...;....
This is wha t
Col e ridge me a1s when h e ca lls Sha kespe a re a "genius."
.A.rtistic imitati on presupposes the imita tion of tha t
which exists within, this essence, this "univers a l in
the individual."
object but
h~!l
The resultant work will be natural in
in effect.
The acquiring of "life-
less technical rules 11 may well pr eclude the cre a tion or
a work which will g ive "the whole ad hominem."
Jill
additiona l insta nce of t he degree of organic
unity within Coleridg.e ' s philosophy-criticism is the
-21-
fact that
-
bis definition of dramatic principle is
redundant of his definition of artistic principle:
The drama is an imitation of reality, not a~­
and that imitation Is contradistinguished from
copy by this: that a certain quantum of difference
is essential to the former, and an indispensable
condition and cause of the pleasure we derive from
it; while in a copy it ~s a defect, contravening
its name and purpose. 3
Shakespeare worked from within, "evolving the germ
within the imaginative power according to an idea.''
37
The details which he employed were significant details
in that they suggested "the very essence of an experi38
.And, "the power of poetry is, by a single
ence."
word, perhaps, to instill energy into the mind, which
compels the imagination to produce the picture ." 39
Thus, we are led directly b a ck to the concept of dramatic illusion.
If the dramatist has the ability to ere-
ate within his audience tha t inward e:xcitement, if he
is capable of instilling energy into the mind and,
therefore, compelling the imagination to produce a picture, then he h a s succeeded as a dramatist.
He has
created the dramatic illusion, the "willing suspension"
36
Coleridge~ Shakes~earian
Criticism, I, 127.
37 Coleridge's Miscellaneous Criticism, 42.
38
Baker, 65.
39 Coleridge's Shakes12earian Criticism, II, 174.
-22-
of judgment, the "poe tic fa.i th."
Coleridge once
c c..lled 40 dreams the "reproductive imagination, unsophisticated by the will."
Thi c. is the drama tic
illusion, for the audience is only reproducing in its
mind what the dramatist produced originally in his
own imagina tion.
It is the dramatist's imagination
a ppealing to the audience's i magination, and it s h ould
be conducive to repoducing itself within the imagina- X
. "'. .
---""""---...v.,.~..,.,_,_.,.:..~==··.ll•,..,..
tion of the audience.
~\~-~~i.t~"'
As in a dream, there is accep-
t a nce rnther than judgment, but it is an acceptance for
which the audience may at all ti mes substitute judgment if the play fails to maintain the illusion.
Coleridge's dramatic criticism, a romantic and
philosophical c r iticism, was perhaps too consciously
in reaction against the neo-classicists.
But in its
end, its defense of Shakespeare and its ultimately
more sensible
concept of the requirements of drama tic
form and structure, it was particularly valuable.
It
showed that really a rtistically valuable creations and these the works of Shakespeare
are - are not to
be judged by the a rbitrary criteria of literary convention.
Innate va lue transcends mechanical structure.
A superficially and mechanically constructed play can
40
Coleridge's Complete Works, ed. Shedd, I, 466.
-23-
have a superfici a l effect upon an audience, whereas
an orga nically unified
war~
of the imagination can
succeed in creating an illusion of the true essence of
n ~ ture.
And na ture, in itself, defies the imposition
of mechanical form.
The dramatist must be CJ.ble to create an illusion
which will make the play seem probable while it is
before the audience.
Sub-plots, range of locale, and
duration of time are of no consequence if the drama tist
can gradually induce a sta te of excitement within his
"auditors."
Only then will their imaginations begin
to function by reproducing his, and only then will they
suspend their judgment ~f:rhet her what they are witnessing is (by their own standards) real or not.
-24-
In studying Coleridge, pa rticularly in relation to his philosophic criticism, it is difficult
to avoid the issue concerning the influences of the
Germans upon him.
De Quincey, of course, was the
first to bring a formal charge of :plagi a rism against
Coleridge - in Tai t ,.s Magazine less than two mon the
after Coleridge's death.
Since then, the controver-
sy regarding Coleridge's indebtedness has prompted
critics to either censure or a ttempt to explain the
indebtedness.
The controversy is neither so
pa~ti-
san nor so fascinating as, s ay, the question of
"who wrote" Shakespeare's plays, but it represents a
relatively interesting range of opinions.
A few of
these opinions will be quoted simply as examples with
no intention of drawing conclusions.
John Stuart Mill, quoted in the :Modern Library
Coleridge, ed. Donald A. Stauffer (New York, 1951),
xii:
He has left on the system he inculcated, such
traces of nJ.mself as cannot fail to be left by
any mind of origimc:. l }?01'1' ers.
Joseph Warren Beach, "Coleridge's Borrowings
-25-
from the Germans," ELH, XJ':XVI (October, 1942), pp.
50-58:
Coleridge was a hopeless neurotic, systematically
deceiving himself on the simplest matters of
fact and motive •••• He was a man with an exaggerated reputation to maintain •••• I do not
mean to suggest that his dishonesty was conscioue.
Self-deception was with Coleridge so fixed a
habit, and it went so deep into the foundations
of his moral nature, that his mind worked automatic a lly in the manufa cture of excuses.
Anna
~
~ugusta
von Helmholtz Phelan, The Indebted
of Samuel Taylor Coleridge to
Schle~el
~ugust
Wilhelm
(Madison, Wis., 190?), pp. 361-2:
•••• Coleridge is indebted to Schlegel for most
of his principles of criticism and for other
material amounting to no inconsiderable number
of pages, and though, to a certain extent, he
may have borrowed unconsc i ously, he is nevertheless censurable for indifference to the property of others.
Thomas Middleton Raysor in Coleridge's Shakespearian Criticism, ed. T. M. Raysor (Cambridge,, Mass.,
1930), I, XXX:
They (Coleridge and Schlegel) had both studied
Kant, Lessing, Herder, Schiller, and perhaps
Richter, and had both been students at G~ttingen.
Donald A. Stauffer in the Modern Library' ~ridge, xii:
He was a part of all that he had read •••• Vfuen
he sympathized with a writer, he took him to
his heart and would repe a t him or echo him or
tr~nsform him into a part of his own thoughtand
writing. Coleridge is one of those infrequent
figures through whom the current of pa st thought
-26rushes, narrowing within a single consciousness, and e ~ panding later into other minds.
Bibliography
Books:
Baker, James Volant.
Bernbaum,
The Sacred River, 1957.
Guide Through the Romantic Move -
~rnest .
ment, 1949.
Gilbert, Allen H.
Literary Criticism: Plato to Dry-
den, 1940.
Helmholtz,
nna
ugusta.
Taylor Coleridge to
The Indebtedness of Samuel
ugust Wilhemn !££Schlegel, 1907.
Raysor, Thoma s Middleton , ed. Q_oleridge 's lt.iscellaneous
Criticism, 1936.
Raysor, Thoma s Middle ton, ed. Coleridge's Shakespearian
Criticism, 1930.
Schlegel, August Wilhelm von. Lectures on Dramatic
rt
and Literature, 1889.
Shedd, Prof. W. G. T., ed.
The Complete Works £! Sam-
uel Taylor Coleridge, vols. I and IV, 1884.
Shawcross, J., ed.
Biograpnia Literaria, 2 vo1s., 190?.
Stauffer, Donald A. Modern Library Coleridge, 1951.
Richards, I. A. Coleridge 2rr Imagination, 1935 •
.Articles:
Beach, Joseph Warren. "The Borrowings of Samuel Taylor
Coleridge from the Germans", .ELH , DC
'
50; 1942
Fogle, Richard Harter, "Coleridge's Critical Principles,"
-28VI, 57; 1956.
Griggs ' E arl Leslie
un· •
Disbelief
' ,"
•
The \Jilling Su spension of
II,
- J.versity £_
f Colora do
n
1
272 ; 1945.
Jlorri 11 ' Dorothy I
----· ' -~927.
Nethery,----• MLN'
XLII1 4
Sh
e
ridge
Wallace. nc 0 1
- ----~--~-akesre
.
s Use of -J udgp:lent
'
;;-' arl.an
Cri tl.· c.
in
' XXXIII, 411"
l.SID II p
~-
952.
'
ersonalist
'
1
..