propensities of the cunning Athenian audience, it must have been, even to them, a delight altogether of a lower kind, addressing lower faculties, than those addressed by the tragic processional grandeur of the earlier portions; whereas in the German play, the hitherto feeble passionate interest now rises in an ascending scale of high moral interest, so that the tragedy evolved addresses the conscience rather than the emotions, being less the conflict of passions than the high conflict with Duty.

In the fourth act Iphigenia thus communes with herself

Me they have supplied

With artful answers, should the monarch send

To urge their sacrifice. Alas! I see

I must consent to follow like a child;

I have not learned deception, nor the art

To gain with crafty wiles my purposes.

Detested fasehood! it doth not relieve

The breast like words of truth; it comforts not,
But is a torment to the forger's heart,

And, like an arrow which a god directs,

Flies back and wounds the archer. Thro' my heart
One fear doth chase another; perhaps, e'en now,
Once more on the unconsecrated shore
The Furies seize my brother; or, perchance,
They are surprised; methinks I hear the tread
Of armed men approaching! Oh, 'tis he!
A messenger is coming from the king

With hasty steps. Alas! how throbs my heart
With anxious fear, now that I see the man

Whom with a word untrue I must encounter!

She has to save more than her brother's life; she has to save him from the Furies; this is only to be done by deceit,

* Comp. Euripides, V, 1157, sq. Iphigenia pretends that as the image of the goddess has been stained by the impure hands of the two captives, it must be purified, and for this purpose she intends to cleanse it in the sea, but that must be done in solitude. She then bids Thoas command that every citizen shall remain within doors, carefully avoiding a sight of that which may pollute them-μυσαρά γὰρ τὰ τοιάδ ̓ ἐστι:—nay more, with an ingenuity which is almost farcical, she bids Thoas himself remain within the Temple, throwing a veil over his eyes as the captives issue forth, and he is not to consider it at all singular if she is a long while absent. In this way she contrives to escape with the image, having made fools of Thoas and his guards.

inasmuch as force is impossible under the circumstances.

Το

a Greek mind nothing could be more satisfactory. The Greek preferred deceit to force; but the Christianized conscience revolts from deceit as cowardly and deeply immoral.

"L'honneur parle, il suffit, ce sont là nos oracles!"*

Accordingly Iphigenia shudders at the falsehood which is forced upon her, and only requires to be reminded by the king's messenger of the constant kindness and considerateness with which Thoas has treated her, to make her pause:

My brother forcibly engrossed my heart,-
I listened only to his friend's advice;
My soul rushed eagerly to rescue them,
And as the mariner with joy surveys
The lessening breakers of a desert isle,
So Tauris lay behind me. But the voice
Of faithful Arkas wakes me from my dream,
Reminding me that those whom I forsake
Are also men. Deceit doth now become
Doubly detested.

When, therefore, Pylades arrives, urging her to flight, she communicates to him her scruples.

Pylades. Him thou dost fly who would have slain thy brother.
Iphig.

To me at least he hath been ever kind.

Pylades. What Fate commands is not ingratitude.
Alas! it still remains ingratitude,

Iphig.

How modern all this is! Pylades with more worldly views

says:

Life teaches us

To be less strict with others than ourselves;
Thou 'lt learn the lesson too. So wonderful
Is human nature, and its varied ties
Are so involved and complicate, that none
May hope to keep his inmost spirit pure,
And walk without perplexity thro' life.

* Racine.

Here, then, lies the tragedy. Will this soul belie its own high instincts, even for the sake of saving her brother? The alternative is horrible; and after pourtraying the temptation in all its force, and human frailty in all its tenderness, the poet shows us human grandeur in this fine burst from the unhappy priestess :

Attend, O king!

A secret plot is laid; 'tis vain to ask

Touching the captives; they are gone, and seek
Their comrades, who await them on the shore.
The eldest-he whom madness lately seized,
And who is now recovered-is Orestes,

My brother! and the other, Pylades,
His early friend and faithful confidant.

From Delphi, Phœbus sent them to this shore,
With a divine command to steal away

The image of Diana, and to him
Bear back the sister, promising for this
Redemption to the blood-stained matricide.

I have delivered now into thy hands

The remnants of the house of Tantalus:
Destroy us-if thou darest !

For anything like this we seek in vain throughout the Greek Drama; and the mere grandeur of the conception would produce an overpowering effect on the stage, if delivered with anything like adequate depth and dignity. Imagine the thrilling tones and exquisite gestures of Rachel in this passage!

Had Thoas been represented as a fierce Scythian, or even had he not been hitherto allowed to convince us of his generosity, the "collision" would have been stronger; as it is, we have little faith in his ferocity. He has nearly relented when Orestes rushes in with drawn sword to hasten Iphigenia away, because their design has been discovered. A scene ensues in which Thoas is resolved not to suffer the Image of Diana to be borne away; and as to carry it away is the object of Orestes, it must be decided by force of arms. But now a light suddenly breaks in upon Orestes, who reads the oracle in another way. Apollo said

"Back to Greece the sister bring, Who in the sanctuary on Tauris' shore Unwillingly abides; so ends the curse."

To Phoebus' sister we applied the words,
And he referred to thee.

It was Iphigenia who was to purify him, and to bear her away is to fulfil Apollo's orders. This interpretation loosens the knot. Iphigenia recalls to Thoas his promise that she should depart if ever she could return in safety to her kindred, and he reluctantly says, "Then go!" to which she answers

Not so, my king; I cannot part

Without thy blessing, or in anger from thee.
Banish us not! the sacred right of guests

Still let us claim: so not eternally

Shall we be severed. Honour'd and beloved,

As my own father was, art thou by me:
Farewell! Oh! do not turn away, but give
One kindly word of parting in return.

So shall the wind more gently swell our sails,
And from our eyes with softened anguish flow
The tears of separation. Fare thee well!

And graciously extend to me thy hand

In pledge of ancient friendship.

Thoas (extending his hand). Fare thee well!

This is a very touching, noble close, and is in exquisite harmony with the whole.

The remarks on this masterpiece have already occupied so much space that I could not, were I disposed, pause to examine the various collateral points of criticism which have been raised in Germany. I will merely allude to the characteristic difference between Ancient and Modern Art: the Furies in Euripides are terrible Apparitions, real beings personated by actors; in Goethe they are Phantasms moving across the stage of an unhappy soul, but visible only to the inward eye; in like manner, the Greek dénouement is the work of the actual interference of the Goddess in person, whereas the German dénouement is a loosening of the knot by deeper insight into the meaning of the oracle.

RETURNING to the narrative, we find Goethe in the beginning of 1779 very active in his new official duties. He has accepted the direction of the War Department, which suddenly assumes new importance, owing to the preparations for a war. He is constantly riding about the country, and doing his utmost to alleviate the condition of the people. "Misery," " he says, "becomes as prosaic and familiar to me as my own hearth, but nevertheless I do not let go my idea, and will wrestle with the unknown Angel, even should I halt upon my thigh. No man knows what I do, and with how many foes I fight to bring forth a little."

Among the "little things" may be noted an organization of Firemen, then greatly wanted. Fires were not only numerous, but were rendered terrible by the want of any systematic service to subdue them. Goethe, who in Frankfurt had rushed into the bewildered crowd, and astonished spectators by his rapid peremptory disposition of their efforts into a certain system-who in Apolda and Ettersburg lent aid and command, till his eyebrows were singed and his feet were burned-naturally took it much to heart that no regular service was supplied, and he persuaded the Duke to institute one.

On this (his thirtieth) birthday the Duke, recognizing his official services, raised him to the place of Geheimrath. "It is strange and dreamlike," writes the Frankfurt burgher in