The history of the world, in short, has of itself no poetical physiognomy, but one property its own; it shews a face which is marked at once with every religious, moral, and artistic feature. So far as the true end of history lies far beyond man's earthly existence, we may discover in it the full complex truth of that theory of the world, which regarding the individual merely as an organic member of humanity, contemplates humanity itself, not merely from the side of its terrestrial existence and its earthly relation to the deity, but also from that of the everlasting and essential union with God, to which, by the divine grace, it has been destined from eternity. Here, therefore, both the tragic ruin of all that is noble, beautiful, and great, as well as the comic paralysis of man's weakness, frailty, and meanness, are brought together in the one thought, that whatever is human and earthly must perish and be dissolved before it can attain to its true life and subsistence in God. The tragic fate of individuals is not felt in full force, even because the whole by God's grace continues to subsist; and in the same manner the comic paralysis of the finite weakness and frailty of a few, loses much of its effect before the lasting vigour and permanency of the many.

But the historical view, which combines both the tragic and comic as special phases into their true poetic unity, becomes even on that account the more eminently poetical. For, as it unites within itself whatever is truly poetic in both, it sets forth the truth, not in the form of any special mode of view, nor as dissolved into its principal elements, but at once in its entire fulness and vitality. The divine justice, which rules in tragedy, reigns here also; and the love which according to the comic view preeminently and immediately governs the world, is here also the regulating principle; neither attribute drives the other out of sight, but in the idea of God's grace they are both united together in harmonious action. For it is nothing less than divine grace that brings upon the sinner such a retribution as will, if he receives it rightly and turns unto God, work immediately his happiness and salvation; humbling whatever is merely great, noble, and beautiful in man, in order to awaken it to a consciousness of its own littleness, and to enlighten it with a knowledge of itself, or correcting man's folly and perversity to good, and making happy the

unhappy, with the view of showing that earthly happiness is in truth no happiness. Thus does it embrace at once both justice and love. While, then, tragedy and comedy separately exhibit these two aspects of the divine grace, the historical drama is eminently qualified by its comprehensive and cyclical nature to be the artistic manifestation of the divine grace in its full power and energy. For the life of a people, or indeed of all humanity, which forms the subject matter of the historical drama, clearly and impressively illustrates the manner in which, through luck and unluck, and through good and evil times, the amelioration of the human race is carried forward to its great end. It shews at one glance how the deepest ruin and misery do but lead to new and important shapes of human affairs, and how, on the other hand, the highest grandeur and success are suddenly changed into degradation and despair, even because the ultimate design and end of the world's history reaches far beyond the prosperity or adversity of this earth.

Again whereas tragedy depicts the human mind and liberty principally from the side of its own intrinsic necessity, but comedy from that of subjective caprice, both coalesce in the historical drama. In the unbroken progress of the human race towards its true end, which by divine grace consists in that union with God which is indispensable to man's nature, we are able to discern the true freedom of the human mind, as being nothing else than the union and adjustment of the two. And, on the other hand, while it exhibits the frustration of man's caprice-the disappointment of his hopes and plans, and their shipwreck upon the untiring waves of the world's history, it demonstrates the intrinsic worthlessness and essential rottenness of this mere subjective freedom. Lastly, tragedy and comedy are limited to a narrow present; to the life of the dramatic personages. Neither of them, therefore, can display the action of man's free will from more than one side. Agreeably to its nature, Tragedy exhibits the deed principally as an independent act of the will, and human liberty as a creative, efficient activity, which from the first involves in itself its most distant results, so that by a strict necessity all its consequences rebound on the author's head; Comedy, on the other hand, presents it to view in its finiteness and limitation, by which its realisation and

effects are made dependent on the fluctuating conditions of time and place, so that simply on this account the design is nullified and perverted into a contrary result. (See above, § III.) The historical drama combines both sides. Here the deed appears as the independent act of the creative free-will, determining immemediately, and of itself, the fortunes and destiny of the agent, while at the same time we see in what manner, being conditioned and borne along by the great whole of history, it carries in itself effects which reach far beyond the life and intentions of the author, and lead to very different results from what he contemplated.

As, therefore, history is raised far above art, as being but a single element of its great organic whole, so historico-dramatic poetry appears, as it were, to be art raised to its highest powera poesy, in short, which comprises both tragedy and comedy, as special elements of itself, in the same way that the history of the world comprises art. A single historical drama may therefore have a tragic or comic result, though it need not necessarily have either the one or the other. (It would, for instance, be difficult to say, whether the two parts of "Henry the Fourth," "Henry the Fifth," and "Henry the Eighth," be either tragedy or comedy.) On the contrary, so far as it is at most but a single member of a grand organic whole, it ought to produce a different effect-even the poetico-historical one, which raises man at once above both the tragic and comic view of things.

Shakspeare was the creator of this grand historico-dramatic poesy, in which the idea, which was the ultimate ground of the trilogical form of the Greek drama, is more adequately apprehended and better worked out. Shakspeare was the first to recognise with clearness and distinctness the true essence of the historical drama; he was the first to rise superior to the usual forms and divisions of art, (in "Hamlet" they are the subject of a refined raillery, Act II., Sc. 2,) and, what is more, he has been able to realise and to perpetuate, in noble and imperishable archetypes, what he was the first to recognise and to perceive. From the present position of æsthetical criticism, it is not difficult to censure and find fault with his details of execution. But it is a much harder task to enter into the depth and the grand connection of his artistic activity, which never allowed the individual to stand

forth merely as such, but regarding it only as a single member of a great whole, universally worked in great masses, and penetrated into every domain of art. The mind that can do this will at once acknowledge that the artistic labours of Shakspeare advanced the development of æsthetical taste a whole century at least.

As in his Comedies, for instance, Shakspeare has noted down all the possible figures of the comic form of art, and exhibited the comic view of the world under all its essential aspects, so in his five great Tragedies, to which the "Timon of Athens" forms as it were the key-stone, he has run through all the most important stages of human life, and the leading springs of its development; so that in both cases, the single dramas, and consequently each of these special branches of art, adjust themselves into one organic body, and constitute one grand work of art. In a corresponding spirit, Shakspeare, in his historical dramas, which again combine the tragic and comic forms of art into a higher unity, has dramatically worked out in two great cycles the most important events of ancient and modern history. The first of these two great cycles brings before us the political history of the Roman people-the original of the modern European polity, in all its most essential moments. In "Coriolanus" we have the contests of the plebeians and patricians, and the gradual rise of the republic; in "Julius Cæsar" the last fruitless struggles of expiring liberty against the new, but rapidly encroaching form of despotism. "Antony and Cleopatra" the character and essence of the empire of the Cæsars is depicted; while lastly, in "Titus Andronicus" we trace, on the one hand, the entire and irremediable decay of the ancient spirit, but on the other the new principle of vitality which the German nations by their inroads on the Roman empire infused into the history of Europe. For although, properly speaking, "Titus Andronicus" does not belong to the historical pieces, it may nevertheless be classed with them, in so far as it does not depict any definite deeds of fortunes or persons, so much as a particular epoch in an historical colouring, and consequently, as it derives its true import and explanation from the character of the age, is itself semi-historical. Together, the whole cycle exhibits the lofty energy and virtues, but at the same time. the profoundly tragic decline of a great nation and empire. The

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tragic impression, however, is not unfolded in its fullest force. For in the same way that in each single drama the tragic fate of the chief agents is compensated by the fresh vitality which accrues from it to the whole people, so in the genuine spirit of history the whole cycle closes with a slight allusion to the new and better glory of Europe which is to unfold itself within the bosom of the German family.

The second and larger cycle, consisting of ten dramas, and drawn from the history of England, places us at once within the very heart of the middle ages. From the reign of King John, to which England owes Magna Charta-that fundamental law of its constitution-the history of England is carried forward to the times of Henry VIII., to which the religious regeneration of the people belongs, and which first began distinctly to evolve the new and modern form of social and political life. Here, too, we have laid before us the leading moments in the life and progress of the English people up to Shakspeare's time, in which, again, all the most characteristic features of the historical development of Europe in general are reflected. In "King John," the spirit of the middle ages still breathes; the chief features of the feudal system are distinctly traceable; knights, barons, and earls, are here seen establishing their rights against all the influence and usurpations of sovereign authority, and the political life of the Commons is struggling for a more fixed shape and stability; warfare yet appears as a knightly tourney, decided by the superior personal bravery of single combatants; political wisdom is impotent against the youthful energy of the momentary feelings, affections, and passions; in short, the chief levers of political events, and the ruling influences on the spirit of the age-chivalry, the free corporations, and above all, the Church, are here made to stand out distinctly. Accordingly, as Schlegel justly remarks, "King John" forms as it were the prologue to the eight following dramas, in which are portrayed the great wars, civil broils, and dissensions, which, from the deposition of Richard II. to the death of Richard III., even while they tore and distracted, nevertheless strengthened and advanced, the power of England.

Thus in the whole series, the tragic influences of a single act, in its far-reaching consequences, is more distinctly revealed than