nevertheless we feel that this delicate germ, which has just begun to shoot forth, possesses a force unequalled by any power on earth. Even Prospero's magic, which has made thunder, lightning, and tempest its tools, and which guides all the other personages like children in leading-strings, has no power here, it cannot even restrain or retard, much less prevent or destroy. It is indeed Prospero's wish that Miranda and Ferdinand shall be united-this wish even forms the point to which all his desires and intentions are directed-but he, at the same time, would like to see their blossoming love keeping exact pace with the maturing of his own plans. For he does not know what will be the effect of the extraordinary occurrences of his magic arts, and of the supposed loss of the king's beloved son, or whether the king will yield and consent to the marriage of Ferdinand and Miranda. This is his reason for wishing to control their love; he would like to see the spark ignite, but not to see it burst at once into flame; this is doubtless the principal reason why he at first treats Ferdinand with su much unfriendliness and condemns him to work like a common servant. However, even in the form of a servant, love finds its kindred heart and contrives to ennoble its common state of servitude and its most menial work; unceasingly does the magnet exercise its invisible power, and Prospero is ultimately obliged to consent to that which all the magic in the world could not have prevented.

When conceived from this point of view, the first scene of the third act again stands in a deeply significant contrast to the two following, where Prospero's magic arts display their full power. This power is exhibited first of all playfully and deridingly upon the fools of the piece, upon those who are the slaves to their sensual desires, that is, upon wickedness in the form of stupidity and coarseness, which is not sufficiently great to be treated seriously because it is of itself harmless. I allude to the scene in which Caliban persuades the half-drunken Stephano to rob Prospero of his books and magic instruments, and then to kill him, so that he himself, as king of the island, may obtain possession of the fair Miranda. This scene, which is made an amusing farce by the interference of Ariel, is succeeded by the more serious play of

6

aristocratic, refined wickedness in the higher spheres. Antonio and Sebastian-as we learn in the following scenes-have not yet relinquished their plan of murdering the King, they are only waiting for a more favourable opportunity. The King's heart also remains untouched. and has no remembrance of his wrong-doing. This is why Ariel, in the form of a harpy, enters so suddenly amid thunder and lightning and gives the three men of sin' a terrible rebuke, by reminding them of Prospero and their crime. Nay, Prospero's sorcery proves itself so powerful here, that it even produces madness, the three men all quit the scene in a state of mental derangement and are anxiously followed by Gonzalo, Francisco and Adrian. These two scenes again obviously stand in contrast to one another. In the first case the ludicrous plan of the fools for murdering Prospero is only ridiculed and frustrated in quite an external manner, just as they are about to carry it out. In the latter case, the hardened criminals, who are already deep in crime and plotting fresh wickedness, meet with a most severe punishment which touches them to the very quick. The action almost threatens to take a tragic turn, and the last scene would, in fact, leave too deeply affecting an impression, had not the poet taken care to exhibit it so hurriedly and suddenly, and to give the colours, the outlines, light and shade in such light touches, that we can scarcely be said to have witnessed the madness and its horrors. the other hand, it had to receive a certain degree of emphasis, because it is the climax of the dramatic complication; the knot is tied and all that the two following acts have to do is to unravel it skilfully and happily.

On

The fourth act, therefore, begins at once with this work. Prospero takes off his mask towards Ferdinand, begs to be forgiven for the trials he put upon him, and with paternal affection places Miranda's hand in his. In celebration of their betrothal, Prospero's spirits give an ingenious masque, in which Juno and Ceres congratulate the young couple. This intermezzo has been considered disturbing, and not altogether unjustly so. In fact, notwithstanding its shortness, it makes a rent in the connection, and suddenly checks the otherwise rapid course

of the action. On the one hand, however, an external circumstance serves to excuse the poet. The Tempest was, as we know from trustworthy authorities, played in the beginning of the year 1613, on the occasion of the festivities in honour of the marriage of the Count Palatine Frederick, with Elizabeth, daughter of King James; and Tieck, therefore, justly conjectures that the masque, here introduced as an episode, may have applied to the princely pair off the stage, rather than to the couple in the play itself; perhaps, however, it was an addition composed specially for the occasion. But, on the other hand, it stands in a closer relation with the motives of the action than at first sight appears to be the case. In the first

place, it serves to set forth the true, simple, patriarchal nature of marriage, and to set forth, in the most striking manner, the advantage of its pure and natural shape over the distorted form it has received in the world of excessive civilization. It serves to point out that in life's tempest, a true marriage invariably proves the firm ground for the anchorage of happiness, that it will stand fast when all other things stagger and fall amid life's high-rolling waves, Moreover, Prospero has evidently some personal motive for showing his approved son-in-law the power of his magic arts in their fullest force. It is the one thing with which he, on his desert island, can impress the high-born prince. Lastly, his paternal anxiety also seeks, by the mouth of his spirits, to enjoin chastity and purity upon the young and ardent couple, so that the fruit shall remain untouched till ripe, otherwise, in place of sweetening marriage, it may prove poison to its happiness. The masque is followed directly by the merry chase after Caliban, Stephano and Trinculo. The high cothurnus upon which Juno, Ceres and Iris had walked about, falls again suddenly into the soccus of low comedy. This wavering to and fro between the two extremes is a characteristic feature peculiar to this piece, to which I draw attention, as it essentially belongs to that special view of life which, as I think, is expressed in the play.

When the plot has, in this manner, been unravelled from two points, the fifth act has only to solve the main complication. The unravelling, however, follows as

rapidly and smoothly as was the case with the ravelling. Prospero's magic, which, so to say, tied the knot, is also the means of loosening it; 'heavenly music,' played by his spirits, drives off the madness it had produced. The king, upon recovering self-consciousness, appears deeply affected and filled with genuine contrition. Even Sebastian and Antonio cannot resist the mysterious power which captivates both heart and mind, at least, they remain silent and agree to the arrangements made by Prospero and Alonzo. The King willingly consents to the marriage of Ferdinand and Miranda, who when united are to rule over Naples and Milan. Stephano, Trinculo and Caliban are likewise pardoned. And in the end it is also found that the ship had not gone to pieces, but had been preserved by Prospero's magic, and was lying in a bay at the other end of the island. When Prospero, in this manner, has attained all that he desired, and has commissioned Ariel to arrange a favourable journey back. his magic, too, has finished its work; therefore, after giving his obedient servant--who has carried out all his wishes so well--his promised freedom, he casts his magic books and staff into the depths of the sea. All is dissolved in peace and happiness; the tempest has worn itself out, calmness and cheerfulness have returned, and with these the ordinary, regular state of reality, the old sweet, habitual course of existence, such as all desire.

This is the substance of this wonderful, or shall I say strange, poem-this is the story of the piece. Whether Shakspeare drew it from the already-mentioned ballad or from a novel upon which the latter was founded, he has, in accordance with his usual custom, apparently made but few changes. Every change, however, is an essential improvement. In the ballad it remains an unexplained circumstance why Benormo-Antonio did not kill the brother whom he drove from the throne, rather than leave him to wander about the country to excite sympathy and interest, perhaps even rebellion against the usurper. Shakspeare has successfully removed this uncertainty, and at the same time has, by one beautiful touch, brought the amiable character of the old, faithful, and good-natured Gonzalo so clearly before our eyes that we, so to say, see

into his very soul. In Shakspeare, the fact of the King of Naples being made to assist the treacherous brother in the execution of his plan, nay, the very introduction of this royal personage (who is wholly wanting in the ballad), and Ferdinand being made the son and heir of Naples, and not, like Alfonso of the ballad, the son of the usurperall this serves, in every respect, to give deeper motives for the action and the characters. For in the ballad the repentance of the treacherous, unnatural brother drops in quite suddenly as if it came from the clouds, and its motive is purely lyrical without any further development whatever. In Shakspeare, on the other hand, the conversion of the King, his being able to be appeased and his quick consent to Prospero's wishes, is doubly and trebly founded, first of all by his deep sorrow at the loss of his son whom he supposes drowned, then by the maddening power of Prospero's sorcery, and lastly by the cure of the madness and the recovery of his son. The King's conversion, however, is necessarily followed by Antonio's submissiveness; even though the horrors of insanity had made no sufficient impression upon him, even though he had wished to defy the feeling of helplessness in face of the tested powers of Prospero's magic-still, considering the relation in which he stood to Naples, he could not say nay when the King said yea. Moreover, Antonio's behaviour towards the King and his brother, and especially the plotted murder, which is prevented by Ariel's interference, serve to increase the drastic unfolding of the characters. Without this feature, our only means of becoming acquainted with Antonio's way of thinking would be from Prospero's story, from long past deeds and events; he would, in this case, be worth nothing to the drama which is of course principally engaged with the present, with deeds and. active thoughts. Even the trifling circumstance that, in Shakspeare, the King's ship is only apparently wrecked and ultimately found lying well equipped for the homeward voyage of the reunited party, whereas in the ballad the Sicilian galleon appears (at the right moment, it is true, but without proper motive) merely in order to help the story to a close, is an improvement which testifies to the well-considered, artistic care with which Shaks