As a representative of the sensational dramatic composer, Heinrich Laube occupies a higher place. But in spite of artistic intention, and great genius, he is but Birch Pfeiffer on a grander scale. Effect is the one thing for which he strives. He is brilliant, interesting, but not poetical. Somewhat earlier, Halm represented the lyric drama. Halm (Baron Eligius von Münch-Bellinghausen) died in 1870, but he began to write in 1834. His "Griseldis' and 'Ein Sohn der Wildniss,' &c. maintain their places on the German stage. But he is a poet who veils the void of ideas with smooth iambics. There is nothing in his plays to make them live. Between Laube and Halm stand Putlitz and von Redwitz. Das Testament der grossen Kurfürsten' of the former, and 'Philippine Welser' by the latter, are accepted favourites: they unite force of situation to dignity of diction. Ein Arzt von Granada,' showed that Brachvogel was a true dramatic poet. In Narcissus' he proved his powers as a sensationalist. Unfortunately the demand for sensationalism at all cost has produced a deteriorating effect on even Mosenthal, the gifted author of Deborah.' Paul Lindau represents the modern middle-class drama. Michael Bär's Hundsee' deserves mention. More numerous are the writers of comedies. I have mentioned some. Wichert, Hackländer, Bauernfeld, are the names of other writers. Benedix is a healthy and brilliant author. He strives to amuse, but always keeps a good purpose in view. He has some better object at heart than merely filling the house and setting it in a roar.

In the comedies and dramas of the first half of this century the prince solved every entanglement in the plot. Of course the lovers must be made happy; and the prince appeared as the Deus ex machinâ,' flung aside his incognito, unbuttoned his great coat, displayed his order,

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and the lovers rushed into each other's arms.

But media

tisation did away with a great many princes, and commercial enterprise made money supreme. The prince disappeared from the stage, and his place was taken by the uncle from America. He pulls bags of dollars out of his pocket, notes from his book, difficulties disappear before hard cash, and the lovers are made happy. Then came the political convulsions of '48. The romantic school arose. The American uncle became antiquated. The rope-ladder formed a road to the hymeneal altar. Modern chemistry discovered the poisonous qualities of carbonic acid. The lovers work on the fears of the parents by threatening to commit suicide by means of charcoal and a cooking stove. The hard-hearted parent gives his blessing, and the young people are made happy. But there is something rude in this method. It manifests no invention, and is liable to pall. Consequently the new school of dramatists have had recourse to other methods. Listening at doors, peeping into letters, tampering with confidential servants, deception, equivocation-such are the choice methods of circumventing obstructions. But the lovers must be made happy in each other's arms; what does it matter how this result is brought about?

There is a difference between the Berlin and the Viennese comedy which deserves notice. The fun in favour at Berlin is that of persiflage, at Vienna of genial mirth. The former is the laughter of the blasé man of the world, who believes in nothing, neither in religion nor honour and virtue in woman or man, holding that of honesty

There's not a grain of it, the face to sweeten
Of the whole dungy earth.

Viennese humour is the boisterous merriment of sunny youth, of the student and the recruit, romp and rollick,

genial and careless. Berlin wit is purposeful, Viennese purposeless. The former is stinging, wounding, the latter innocent and guileless. The former is witty, the latter humorous. The first has in it thought, the latter poetry.

If there are no great modern tragedians, there are many who are pleasing. Of these Felix Dahn deserves notice: he is an historian, and his dramas are written with political purpose. König Roderick,' which appeared in 1874, represents the battle of the State against the Church; Deutsche Treue' (1875), the triumph of the idea of Imperial unity over German particularism. In 1816 appeared Grillparzer's Ahnfrau,' which at once stamped the author as a genius and a great dramatic writer. It was a strange weird play of fatalism and supernatural elements. The high order of the poetry, and the ability with which exciting situations were worked up, made the play very popular. Unfortunately Grillparzer next adopted classic subjects, 'Sappho,' 'The Golden Fleece,' 'Medea,' &c., in which modern sentimentality and lyrical pathos in an antique setting somewhat jar on the taste. His finest production was The Fortune and Fall of King Ottocar' (1825). Though wanting in strongly drawn historical characters, the drama is full of merit and power.

Prince George of Prussia wrote under the name of Conrad, but his tragedies have little merit. Hebbel deserves a word. His tragedies are works of art, and the offspring of genius, but revolting and demoniacal. He is by far the greatest dramatic writer of modern times, but also the most unfortunate. 'Judith' appeared in 1841; 'Genoveva' in 1843; ‘Maria Magdalena,' a tragedy of common life, in 1844. A second series is composed of Herod and Mariamne,' Julia,' Michael Angelo,' Agnes Bernauer,' and Gyges and his Ring.' His last piece was The Nibelungen,' 1862. His tragedies as they succeeded one

another seemed to grow in power, but also in offensiveness. As he wrote he became bolder, but also more horrible and capricious. His moral pathos is that of a Danton or Robespierre.

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Mosen's dramas are overweighted with the lyrical element there is too great play of diction, too little articulation of character, too much subjectivity, to make them successful on the stage. But the charm of poetic beauty, pure feeling, and noble purpose, is there, elevating them above mediocrity. One alone holds a place on the stage, Otto III.' But the best tragedy after Schiller and Goethe is Uriel Acosta' by von Gutzkow, a most fertile and versatile writer. Two of the best modern comedies are also by him, Zopf und Schwerdt' and 'Das Urbild des Tartuffe.'

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CHAPTER XII.

MUSIC.

Ich glaube an Gott, Mozart und Beethoven.

RICHARD WAGNER.

THE year 1590 was an eventful one in the history of music. In the palace of Giovanni Bardi, Count of Vernio, at Florence, was gathered a select circle of antiquaries. Gothic art was dying, the Renaissance was in flower. The ties by which men were held by the Church were relaxed. Even Christianity had to put on the attributes of paganism to claim a hearing. Architecture, sculpture, painting, the handmaids of religion, dropped their cumbrous Gothic drapery and affected the nude. The perpendicular gave way to the horizontal, the spiritual to the material, the world to come was forgotten in the glories of the world that is. Of all the arts, music alone remained ecclesiastical. The minstrel sang his warm verses in a cold Gregorian mode, and a pot-house lay was intoned to an air only nicely to be discriminated from the Ambrosian "Te Deum.' Polyphony had been eagerly adopted by the Church, and the Tridentine Council had canonised it in the Masses of Palestrina. The world might use it for madrigals, but not for the stage. It was too cumbrous for passionate declamations, and a chorus was thought too like a church choir to seem in place on the boards.

In 1590, the antiquaries collected in the halls of Count