schoolmaster at Dessau in 1545, who has a place in the history of
German poetry, has left it on record that he trained his scholars to
render noble dramas in the conscientious hope "that a little spark of
art might be kept alive in the schools under the ashes of barbarism."
"And this little spark," says Gervinus, "did these bold men, indeed,
through two hundred years, keep honestly until it could again break
out into flame." Instead of fearing the evil result, rather would I
welcome a revival of what Warton calls "this very liberal exercise."
Were Joachim Greffs masters in our high schools and in the English
chairs in our colleges, we might now and then catch a glimpse of
precious things at present hidden away in never-opened store-houses,
and see something done toward the development of a taste that should
drive out the _opera-bouffe_.

Here, at the end, Fastidiosus, is what I now shape in mind. Hippolyte
Taine, in one of his rich descriptions, thus pictures the performance
of a masque:

The _élite_ of the kingdom is there upon the stage,
the ladies of the court, the great lords, the queen,
in all the splendour of their rank and their pride, in
diamonds, earnest to display their luxury so that all
the brilliant features of the nation's life are concentrated
in the price they give, like gems in a casket.
What adornment! What profusion of magnificence!
What variety! What metamorphoses! Gold sparkles,
jewels emit light, the purple draping imprisons
within its rich folds the radiance of the lustres.
The light is reflected from shining silk. Threads
of pearl are spread in rows upon brocades sewed