which shows his stately poetic diction at its best, but has proved
least acceptable on the stage. As we have seen, it was an artistic
experiment. A medieval prince of Messina has an ominous dream which is
interpreted by an Arab astrologer to mean that a daughter to be born
will cause the death of his two sons, thus making an end of his
dynasty. When the child is born he orders it put to death. But
meanwhile his queen has had a dream of contrary import, and thereby
saves the life of her new-born daughter, but has her brought up remote
from the court. In time the two quarrelsome brothers, ignorant that
they have a sister, fall in love with the girl. One slays the other in
a frenzy of jealous rage, the other commits suicide in remorse. This
invention can hardly be called plausible. Indeed, so far as the mere
fable is concerned, it is a house of cards which would collapse any
moment at the breath of common sense. One must remember in reading the
play that common sense was not one of the nine muses. The dreams take
the place of the Delphic oracle, and the Greek chorus is represented
by two semi-choruses, the retainers of the quarreling brothers, who
speak their parts by the mouth of a leader, at one moment taking part
in the action, at another delivering the detached comment of the ideal
spectator. There is much splendid poetry in these pseudo-choruses, but
it was impossible that such a scheme should produce the effect of
the Greek choral dance.

Did Schiller feel that in _The Bride of Messina_ he had wandered a
little too far away from the vital concerns of modern life? Probably,
for he next set to work on a play which should be popular in the best
sense of the word--_William Tell_. It is his one play with a happy
ending and has always been a prime favorite on the stage. The hero is
the Swiss people, and the action idealizes the legendary uprising of
the Forest Cantons against their Austrian governors. There are really