of circumstances, partly by their own want of power; in short, it was the same struggle of excited and aspiring minds with unfavourable, outward circumstances, in which Hamlet perishes. In the latter respect Lenz may even be said to be the poor and distorted likeness of the Prince, while Goethe's stronger nature both survived and overcame the unpropitious circumstances. For, as he had succeeded in preserving his independence against the powerful influences of Shakspeare, and, as it were, only made them the spiritual substance of his works, so he likewise over- ・ came the Hamlet-Werther state of mind by forming it into poetical creations. In his 'Clavigo' and his Stella,' we still have the echoes of it, but in his 'Egmont' (which, as is well-known, was written long before its first appearance, and was merely revised and finished in 1759), we already meet with a fresh, clear spring of life, exuberant even to excess; hence he is again much more like the author of Hamlet' than like the hero of the drama.

Lessing's Minna von Barnhelm,' his 'Emilia Galotti' and Goethe's 'Götz von Berlichingen' were the first brilliant stars in the heavens of our so-called classic poetry. There is abundant evidence in the annals of German literature of how great and how powerful was the effect of these first German masterpieces, more especially of Goethe's first dramas. By one party in the country the author of 'Götz' was called 'The German Shakspeare' and greeted with enthusiasm, by the other he was censured and ridiculed, but gazed upon by all as a new and unheardof phenomenon on the horizon of German poetry; he was also imitated, aped, and caricatured. It will be sufficient for our purpose here to call to remembrance the fact that it was these of Goethe's works (which had been suggested by Shakspeare) that paved the way by which Schiller followed him in his first productions - Die Käuber,' 'Fiesco,' and 'Kabale und Liebe.' Schiller, when but a boy of fourteen, had read Gerstenberg's 'Ugolino,' which so impressed his mind that he retained the impression of it even in his later years. Lessing's dramas, Müller's (the painter's) poems, and Leisewitz s Julius von Tarent' (1776) were his favourite books. But he was specially charmed with Goethe's 'Götz von Berlichingen.' About the

same time(1775–76), through Abel's assistance, he became acquainted with Shakspeare. And thereby-as Hoffmeister says-poetry in him became an all-inundating stream. For although, as Abel reports, Schiller at first felt it offensive that 'Shakspeare's coldness and want of sensitiveness could allow him to joke in the midst of the sublimest pathos,' still, according to his own words, Shakspeare's works' carried him away like a mighty mountain torrent, and induced him to turn all his talent pre-eminently towards the drama.' Nay, in his criticism of his own play 'The Robbers,' he expressly says: If its beauties do not show that the author was captivated by Shakspeare, all the more must this be evident from its extravagance.'

It cannot but he obvious to every one that Schiller's plays also-in spite of their acknowledged leaning to Shakspeare -are no mere imitations. They too are pervaded by a different and thoroughly original spirit; nay, in a certain sense, they differ more widely from the Shakspearian style than Goethe's Götz' and his Egmont.' In fact, the first blossoms of the classic period of German poetry had merely been fructified by Shakspeare's genius. Still it was Shakspeare nevertheless who gave the first impulse to the great revolution of taste in the domain of criticism, as well as in poetical production; it was he who first gave the new-born child of poetry its first education and training, and this gave a definite direction to the whole literature of Germany, to the prevailing striving after naturalness, fidelity and truth to nature, individuality and nationality. Accordingly the first stage of this classic period, down to Goethe's return from Italy, may justly be termed the Shakspeare-epoch.

The new direction entered upon at the second stage of this period, was the result of the different characters of its two representatives, Goethe and Schiller, and thus of the different influence which Shakspeare exercised upon them. In Schiller it had, from the first, a different source, and hence other consequences in its further development. For while Goethe and his associates were more especially charmed by the naturalness' of Shakspeare's representations, by his remarkably life-like delineation of all detail, by the deep psychological truth of his characterisation,

Schiller was even more charmed by the mighty ethical pathos and the wealth of ideas contained in Shakspeare's works. This was at first more a vague feeling than an actually recognised fact, because, as Schiller says, Shakspeare kept his ideas too much concealed between the fulness of individualities. Schiller's above-mentioned complaint of Shakspeare's coldness and want of sensitiveness was but the expression of a mind enthusiastic about the Idea which wished to find the same personal enthusiasm expressed in his favourite poet. However, Shakspeare's wealth of ideas, and in fact the whole ideal nature of his compositions, was subsequently more fully recognised by Schiller, and, therefore, Shakspeare became ever dearer to him.

·

This contrast in the characters of the two men explains how it was that the heavenly genius,' which Goethe had believed Shakspeare to be, gradually came to be looked upon as a 'demoniacal phenomenon,' and became disagreeable and offensive in the same degree as the lyric pathos of youth gave way to that plastic element of his nature, which left him so long in doubt as to whether he was not born to be a painter. The development of this element in Goethe's nature during his travels in Italy, made him turn his enthusiasm towards ancient art and poetry; and he congratulates himself for having, by means of his 'Götz' and 'Egmont,' once and for all rid himself of Shakspeare.' The new enthusiasm for the antique made him again favour the French style, and he began to work at the restoration of French tragedy upon the German stage, nay, he even gradually persuaded himself into the strange error that Shakspeare's plays were not created for the stage, not 'for the eyes of the body,' that they were untheatrical plays, mere 'conversations in actions, less sensuous deeds than spiritual words, extremely interesting stories, but only narrated by several masked personages.' Accordingly he disputed and ridiculed the 'senseless' opinion that they could appear on the boards unabridged and unaltered, and did not hesitate himself to turn Romeo and Juliet' into a piece, in conformity with the French classic principles, for the Weimar theatre. Lastly, he again raised the objection against the mixture

VOL. II,

2 I

of tragedy and comedy, and called Mercutio and the Nurse ludicrous intermezzos,' who 'disturb the tragic character of the story, and on the stage must be intolerable to our correct logical mode of thinking which delights in harmony.' Goethe was thus consistently and gradually being driven on by this 'correct' mode of thinking, and by his love for the antique, to produce works which—as in the case of his Natürliche Tochter '-were no conversations in actions, but conversations without action. It was only in the latter years of his life that he again made friends with the old favourite of his youth, recalled his erroneous assertions, and again recommended Shakspeare to readers, poets, and actors as the best means of developing their powers.'

Meanwhile Schiller, the older he became the greater was his recognition of Shakspeare's genius, and he believed that a worthy representation of his plays would prove the greatest blessing to the German stage. At the end of the year 1797, in a letter to Goethe, he says: 'I have just been reading those plays of Shakspeare's which treat of the Wars of the Roses, and upon finishing "Richard III." find myself in a state of utter amazement. This last piece is one of the sublimest tragedies I know,' etc., and then adds, 'no play of Shakspeare's reminds me so much of the Greek tragedies. It would truly be worth the trouble, to adapt this whole series of eight plays for the German stage with all the means now in our power. It might introduce a new epoch.' This passage gives expression to the fine æsthetic feeling with which Schiller (who, as we know from other passages in his works, so well understood the nature of ancient art and the deep irreconcileable contrast between it and modern art) recognised the internal affinity between the Shakspearian and the ancient drama; it also shows his correct, practical judgment in regarding the re-introduction of Shakspeare's plays of course with some 'careful' or, as Lessing says, modest' alterations-upon the German stage and the raising of the stage itself, as signifying the same thing. And yet not only did Schiller's adaptation of 'Macbeth' -which appeared in the theatre at Weimar some years *Briefwechsel mit Goethe, iii. 290.

afterwards--injure the genius of Shakspeare by all kinds of aesthetically inadmissible alterations, but his own dramatic works differed more and more from the Shakspearian spirit and style in the same degree as they rose above his own youthful productions. In his Don Carlos,' and still more so in his 'Wallenstein,' Schiller too approached nearer to the ancient drama. However, this was not so much the result of Goethe's leaning towards the ancient, plastic ideals, as his own inclination towards ethical and philosophical ideals; hence it proceeded more from an endeavour to reconcile the ancient drama with the modern, than to bring the latter into an ancient form. And, moreover, the modern drama was to him one and the same thing as the Shakspearian drama; in other words, Shakspeare continued to be an active agent in Schiller's productive activity, and this alone is what I wished to intimate.