Title: Encyclopaedia Britannica, 11th Edition, Volume 8, Slice 7 - "Drama" to "Dublin"
Author: Various
Language: English
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*** Start of this LibraryBlog Digital Book "Encyclopaedia Britannica, 11th Edition, Volume 8, Slice 7 - "Drama" to "Dublin"" ***


Transcriber's notes:

(1) Numbers following letters (without space) like C2 were originally
      printed in subscript. Letter subsctipts are preceded by an
      underscore, like C_n.

(2) Characters following a carat (^) were printed in superscript.

(3) Side-notes were relocated to function as titles of their respective
      paragraphs.

(4) Letters topped by Macron are represented as [=x].

(5) Letters with a dot below are represented as [x.].

(6) The following typographical errors have been corrected:

    Article DRAMA: "Incomparably the most important of recent additions
      to the literary drama is Thomas Hardy's vast panorama of the
      Napoleonic wars, entitled The Dynasts (1904-1908)." 'Incomparably'
      amended from 'Imcomparably'.

    Article DRAVIDIAN: "Their languages form an isolated group, and it
      has not been possible to prove a connexion with any other family of
      languages." 'form' amended from 'from'.

    Article DRAWING: "The same analogy may be observed between two of
      the senses in which the French verb tirer is frequently employed."
      'French' amended from 'Frech'.

    Article DRAWING: "Although the modern Italians have both traire and
      trarre, they use delineare still in the sense of artistic drawing,
      and also adombrare." 'in' amended from 'is'.

    Article DREDGE and DREDGING: "... the illustration of the
      geographical distribution of marine animals, and the more accurate
      determination of the fossils of the Pliocene period."
      'illustration' amended from 'illlustration'.

    Article DRENTE: "... and in 1818 the Society of Charity
      (Maatschappij van Weldadigheid) was formed with Count van den Bosch
      at its head." 'Weldadigheid' amended from 'Weldadigkeid'.

    Article DRENTE: "In later times forest culture was added, and the
      Gerard Adriaan van Swieten schools of forestry, agriculture and
      horticulture were established by Major van Swieten in memory of his
      son." 'Swieten' amended from 'Sweiten'.

    Article DREW: "From 1861 to 1892 she had the management of the Arch
      Street theatre in Philadelphia." 'From' amended from 'Fom'.

    Article DRIFT: "Thus it is possible to speak of a snow-drift, an
      accumulation driven by the wind; of a ship drifting out of its
      course; of the drift of a speech, i.e. its general tendency."
      'accumulation' amended from 'accumlation'.

    Article DUBLIN: "But the old jealousy arose in the reign of George
      I., and in the reign of George III." 'jealousy' amended from
      'jealously'.



          ENCYCLOPAEDIA BRITANNICA

  A DICTIONARY OF ARTS, SCIENCES, LITERATURE
           AND GENERAL INFORMATION

              ELEVENTH EDITION


           VOLUME VIII, SLICE VII

              Drama to Dublin



ARTICLES IN THIS SLICE:


  DRAMA (part)                DRONFIELD
  DRAMBURG                    DROPSY
  DRAMMEN                     DROPWORT
  DRANE, AUGUSTA THEODOSIA    DROSHKY
  DRAPER, JOHN WILLIAM        DROSTE-HÜLSHOFF, ANNETTE ELISABETH
  DRAPER                      DROSTE-VISCHERING, CLEMENS AUGUST
  DRAUGHT                     DROUAIS, JEAN GERMAIN
  DRAUGHTS                    DROUET, JEAN BAPTISTE
  DRAUPADI                    DROWNING AND LIFE SAVING
  DRAVE                       DROYSEN, JOHANN GUSTAV
  DRAVIDIAN                   DROZ, ANTOINE GUSTAVE
  DRAWBACK                    DROZ, FRANÇOIS-XAVIER JOSEPH
  DRAWING                     DRUG (district of British India)
  DRAWING AND QUARTERIN       DRUG (medicine)
  DRAWING-ROOM                DRUIDISM
  DRAYTON, MICHAEL            DRUIDS, ORDER OF
  DREAM                       DRUM
  DREDGE and DREDGING         DRUMMOND, HENRY (1786-1860)
  DRELINCOURT, CHARLES        DRUMMOND, HENRY (1851-1897)
  DRENTE                      DRUMMOND, THOMAS
  DRESDEN                     DRUMMOND, WILLIAM
  DRESS                       DRUNKENNESS
  DRESSER                     DRURY, SIR WILLIAM
  DREUX                       DRUSES
  DREW                        DRUSIUS JOHANNES
  DREW, SAMUEL                DRUSUS, MARCUS LIVIUS
  DREWENZ                     DRUSUS, NERO CLAUDIUS
  DREXEL, ANTHONY JOSEPH      DRUSUS CAESAR
  DREYFUS, ALFRED             DRYADES
  DRIBURG                     DRYANDER, JONAS
  DRIFFIELD                   DRYBURGH ABBEY
  DRIFT                       DRYDEN, JOHN
  DRILL                       DRYOPITHECUS
  DRINKING VESSELS            DRY ROT
  DRIPSTONE                   DUALISM
  DRISLER, HENRY              DUALLA
  DRIVER, SAMUEL ROLLES       DU BARRY, MARIE JEANNE BÉCU
  DRIVING                     DU BARTAS, GUILLAUME DE SALUSTE
  DROGHEDA                    DUBAWNT
  DROIT                       DUBBO
  DROITWICH                   DU BELLAY, GUILLAUME
  DRÔME                       DU BELLAY, JEAN
  DROMEDARY                   DU BELLAY, JOACHIM
  DROMORE                     DUBLIN (county of Ireland)
  DROMOS                      DUBLIN (city of Ireland)
  DRONE



DRAMA. (Continued from Volume 8 Slice 6.)


10. MEDIEVAL DRAMA

  Ecclesiastical and monastic literary drama.

  Hrosvitha.

While the scattered and persecuted strollers thus kept alive something
of the popularity, if not of the loftier traditions, of their art,
neither, on the other hand, was there an utter absence of written
compositions to bridge the gap between ancient and modern dramatic
literature. In the midst of the condemnation with which the Christian
Church visited the stage, its professors and votaries, we find
individual ecclesiastics resorting in their writings to both the tragic
and the comic form of the ancient drama. These isolated productions,
which include the [Greek: Christos paschôn] (_Passion of Christ_)
formerly attributed to St Gregory Nazianzen, and the _Querolus_, long
fathered upon Plautus himself, were doubtless mostly written for
educational purposes--whether Euripides and Lycophron, or Menander,
Plautus and Terence, served as the outward models. The same was probably
the design of the famous "comedies" of Hrosvitha, the Benedictine nun of
Gandersheim, in Eastphalian Saxony, which associate themselves in the
history of Christian literature with the spiritual revival of the 10th
century in the days of Otto the Great. While avowedly imitated in form
from the comedies of Terence, these religious exercises derive their
themes--martyrdoms,[1] and miraculous or otherwise startling
conversions[2]--from the legends of Christian saints. Thus, from perhaps
the 9th to the 12th centuries, Germany and France, and through the
latter, by means of the Norman Conquest, England, became acquainted with
what may be called the literary monastic drama. It was no doubt
occasionally performed by the children under the care of monks or nuns,
or by the religious themselves; an exhibition of the former kind was
that of the _Play of St Katharine_, acted at Dunstable about the year
1110 in "copes" by the scholars of the Norman Geoffrey, afterwards abbot
of St Albans. Nothing is known concerning it except the fact of its
performance, which was certainly not regarded as a novelty.


  The joculatores, jongleurs, minstrels.

These efforts of the cloister came in time to blend themselves with more
popular forms of the early medieval drama. The natural agents in the
transmission of these popular forms were those _mimes_, whom, while the
representatives of more elaborate developments, the "pantomimes" in
particular, had inevitably succumbed, the Roman drama had left surviving
it, unextinguished and unextinguishable. Above all, it is necessary to
point out how in the long interval now in question--the "dark ages,"
which may, from the present point of view, be reckoned from about the
6th to the 11th century--the Latin and the Teutonic elements of what may
be broadly designated as medieval "minstrelsy," more or less
imperceptibly, coalesced. The traditions of the disestablished and
disendowed _mimus_ combined with the "occupation" of the Teutonic
_scôp_, who as a professional personage does not occur in the earliest
Teutonic poetry, but on the other hand is very distinctly traceable
under this name or that of the "gleeman," in Anglo-Saxon literature,
before it fell under the control of the Christian Church. Her influence
and that of docile rulers, both in England and in the far wider area of
the Frank empire, gradually prevailed even over the inherited goodwill
which neither Alfred nor even Charles the Great had denied to the
composite growth in which _mimus_ and _scôp_ alike had a share.

How far the _joculatores_--which in the early middle ages came to be the
name most widely given to these irresponsible transmitters of a great
artistic trust--kept alive the usage of entertainments more essentially
dramatic than the minor varieties of their performances, we cannot say.
In different countries these entertainers suited themselves to different
tastes, and with the rise of native literatures to different literary
tendencies. The literature of the _troubadours_ of Provence, which
communicated itself to Spain and Italy, came only into isolated contact
with the beginnings of the religious drama; in northern France the
_jongleurs_, as the _joculatores_ were now called, were confounded with
the _trouvères_, who, to the accompaniment of _vielle_ or harp, sang the
_chansons de geste_ commemorative of deeds of war. As appointed servants
of particular households they were here, and afterwards in England,
called _menestrels_ (from _ministeriales_) or _minstrels_. Such a
_histrio_ or _mimus_ (as he is called) was Taillefer, who rode first
into the fight at Hastings, singing his songs of Roland and Charlemagne,
and tossing his sword in the air and catching it again. In England such
accomplished minstrels easily outshone the less versatile gleemen of
pre-Norman times, and one or two of them appeared as landholders in
Domesday Book, and many enjoyed the favour of the Norman, Angevin and
Plantagenet kings. But here, as elsewhere, the humbler members of the
craft spent their lives in strolling from castle to convent, from
village-green to city-street, and there exhibiting their skill as
dancers, tumblers, jugglers proper, and as masquers and conductors of
bears and other dumb contributors to popular wonder and merriment. Their
only chance of survival finally came to lie in organization under the
protection of powerful nobles; but when, in the 15th century in England,
companies of players issued forth from towns and villages, the
profession, in so far as its members had not secured preference, saw
itself threatened with ruin.


  Survivals and adaptations of pagan festive ceremonies and usages.

In any attempt to explain the transmission of dramatic elements from
pagan to Christian times, and the influence exercised by this
transmission upon the beginnings of the medieval drama, account should
finally be taken of the pertinacious survival of popular festive rites
and ceremonies. From the days of Gregory the Great, i.e. from the end of
the 6th century onwards, the Western Church tolerated and even attracted
to her own festivals popular customs, significant of rejoicing, which
were in truth relics of heathen ritual. Such were the Mithraic feast of
the 25th of December, or the egg of Eostre-tide, and a multitude of
Celtic or Teutonic agricultural ceremonies. These rites, originally
symbolical of propitiation or of weather-magic, were of a semi-dramatic
nature--such as the dipping of the neck of corn in water, sprinkling
holy drops upon persons or animals, processions of beasts or men in
beast-masks, dressing trees with flowers, and the like, but above all
ceremonial dances, often in disguise. The sword-dance, recorded by
Tacitus, of which an important feature was the symbolic threat of death
to a victim, endured (though it is rarely mentioned) to the later middle
ages. By this time it had attracted to itself a variety of additional
features, and of characters familiar as pace-eggers, mummers,
morris-dancers (probably of distinct origin), who continually enlarged
the scope of their performances, especially as regarded their comic
element. The dramatic "expulsion of death," or winter, by the
destruction of a lay-figure--common through western Europe about the 8th
century--seems connected with a more elaborate rite, in which a
disguised performer (who perhaps originally represented summer) was
slain and afterwards revived (the _Pfingstl_, Jack in the Green, or
Green Knight). This representation, after acquiring a comic complexion,
was annexed by the character dancers, who about the 15th century took to
adding still livelier incidents from songs treating of popular heroes,
such as St George and Robin Hood; which latter found a place in the
festivities of May Day with their central figure, the May Queen. The
earliest ceremonial observances of this sort were clearly connected with
pastoral and agricultural life; but the inhabitants of the towns also
came to have a share in them; and so, as will be seen later, did the
clergy. They were in particular responsible for the buffooneries of the
feast of fools (or asses), which enjoyed the greatest popularity in
France (though protests against it are on record from the 11th century
onwards to the 17th), but was well known from London to Constantinople.
This riotous New Year's celebration was probably derived from the
ancient Kalend feasts, which may have bequeathed to it both the
hobby-horse and the lord, or bishop, of misrule. In the 16th century the
feast of fools was combined with the elaborate festivities of courts and
cities during the twelve Christmas feast-days--the season when
throughout the previous two centuries the "mummers" especially
flourished, who in their disguisings and "_viseres_" began as dancers
gesticulating in dumb-show, but ultimately developed into actors proper.


  The liturgy the main source of the medieval religious drama.

  Tropes.

Thus the literary and the professional element, as well as that of
popular festive usages, had survived to become tributaries to the main
stream of the early Christian drama, which had its direct source in the
liturgy of the Church itself. The service of the Mass contains in itself
dramatic elements, and combines with the reading out of portions of
Scripture by the priest--its "epical" part--a "lyrical" part in the
anthems and responses of the congregation. At a very early
period--certainly already in the 5th century--it was usual on special
occasions to increase the attractions of public worship by living
pictures, illustrating the Gospel narrative and accompanied by songs;
and thus a certain amount of action gradually introduced itself into the
service. The insertion, before or after sung portions of the service, of
tropes, originally one or more verses of texts, usually serving as
introits and in connexion with the gospel of the day, and recited by the
two halves of the choir, naturally led to dialogue chanting; and this
was frequently accompanied by illustrative fragments of action, such as
drawing down the veil from before the altar.


  The liturgical mystery.

This practice of interpolations in the offices of the church, which is
attested by texts from the 9th century onwards (the so-called
"Winchester tropes" belong to the 10th and 11th), progressed, till on
the great festivals of the church the epical part of the liturgy was
systematically connected with spectacular and in some measure mimical
adjuncts, the lyrical accompaniment being of course retained. Thus the
_liturgical mystery_--the earliest form of the Christian drama--was
gradually called into existence. This had certainly been accomplished as
early as the 10th century, when on great ecclesiastical festivals it was
customary for the priests to perform in the churches these offices (as
they were called). The whole Easter story, from the burial to Emmaus,
was thus presented, the Maries and the angel adding their lyrical
_planctus_; while the surroundings of the Nativity--the Shepherds, the
Innocents, &c.--were linked with the Shepherds of Epiphany by a
recitation of "Prophets," including Vergil and the Sibyl. Before long,
from the 11th century onwards, _mysteries_, as they were called, were
produced in France on scriptural subjects unconnected with the great
Church festivals--such as the Wise and Foolish Virgins, Adam (with the
fall of Lucifer), Daniel, Lazarus, &c. Compositions on the last-named
two themes remain from the hand of one of the very earliest of medieval
play-writers, Hilarius, who may have been an Englishman, and who
certainly studied under Abelard. He also wrote a "miracle" of St
Nicholas, one of the most widely popular of medieval saints. Into the
pieces founded on the Scripture narrative outside characters and
incidents were occasionally introduced, by way of diverting the
audience.


  The collective mystery.

These mysteries and miracles being as yet represented by the clergy
only, the language in which they were usually written is Latin--in many
varieties of verse with occasional prose; but already in the 11th
century the further step was taken of composing these texts in the
vernacular--the earliest example being the mystery of the Resurrection.
In time a whole series of mysteries was joined together; a process which
was at first roughly and then more elaborately pursued in France and
elsewhere, and finally resulted in the _collective mystery_--merely a
scholars' term of course, but one to which the principal examples of the
English mystery-drama correspond.


  Mysteries, miracles, and morals distinguished.

The productions of the medieval religious drama it is usual technically
to divide into three classes. The _mysteries_ proper deal with
scriptural events only, their purpose being to set forth, with the aid
of the prophetic or preparatory history of the Old Testament, and more
especially of the fulfilling events of the New, the central mystery of
the Redemption of the world, as accomplished by the Nativity, the
Passion and the Resurrection. But in fact these were not kept
distinctly apart from the _miracle-plays_, or _miracles_, which are
strictly speaking concerned with the legends of the saints of the
church; and in England the name _mysteries_ was not in use. Of these
species the miracles must more especially have been fed from the
resources of the monastic literary drama. Thirdly, the _moralities_, or
_moral-plays_, teach and illustrate the same truths--not, however, by
direct representation of scriptural or legendary events and personages,
but allegorically, their characters being personified virtues or
qualities. Of the moralities the Norman _trouvères_ had been the
inventors; and doubtless this innovation connects itself with the
endeavour, which in France had almost proved victorious by the end of
the 13th century, to emancipate dramatic performances from the control
of the church.


  The clergy and the religious drama.

The attitude of the clergy towards the dramatic performances which had
arisen out of the elaboration of the services of the church, but soon
admitted elements from other sources, was not, and could not be,
uniform. As the plays grew longer, their paraphernalia more extensive,
and their spectators more numerous, they began to be represented outside
as well as inside the churches, at first in the churchyards, and the use
of the vulgar tongue came to be gradually preferred. A Beverley
Resurrection play (1220 c.) and some others are bilingual. Miracles were
less dependent on this connexion with the church services than mysteries
proper; and lay associations, gilds, and schools in particular, soon
began to act plays in honour of their patron saints in or near their own
halls. Lastly, as scenes and characters of a more or less trivial
description were admitted even into the plays acted or superintended by
the clergy, as some of these characters came to be depended on by the
audiences for conventional extravagance or fun, every new Herod seeking
to out-Herod his predecessor, and the devils and their chief asserting
themselves as indispensable favourites, the comic element in the
religious drama increased; and that drama itself, even where it remained
associated with the church, grew more and more profane. The endeavour to
sanctify the popular tastes to religious uses, which connects itself
with the institution of the great festival of Corpus Christi (1264,
confirmed 1311), when the symbol of the mystery of the Incarnation was
borne in solemn procession, led to the closer union of the dramatic
exhibitions (hence often called _processus_) with this and other
religious feasts; but it neither limited their range nor controlled
their development.


  Progress of the medieval drama in Europe.

It is impossible to condense into a few sentences the extremely varied
history of the processes of transformation undergone by the medieval
drama in Europe during the two centuries--from about 1200 to about
1400--in which it ran a course of its own, and during the succeeding
period, in which it was only partially affected by the influence of the
Renaissance. A few typical phenomena may, however, be noted in the case
of the drama of each of the several chief countries of the West; where
the vernacular successfully supplanted Latin as the ordinary medium of
dramatic speech, where song was effectually ousted by recitation and
dialogue, and where finally, though the emancipation was on this head
nowhere absolute, the religious drama gave place to the secular.


  France.

In France, where dramatic performances had never fallen entirely into
the hands of the clergy, the progress was speediest and most decided
towards forms approaching those of the modern drama. The earliest play
in the French tongue, however, the 12th-century _Adam_, supposed to have
been written by a Norman in England (as is a fragmentary _Résurrection_
of much the same date), still reveals its connexion with the liturgical
drama. Jean Bodel of Arras' miracle-play of _St Nicolas_ (before 1205)
is already the production of a secular author, probably designed for the
edification of some civic confraternity to which he belonged, and has
some realistic features. On the other hand, the _Theophilus_ of Rutebeuf
(d. c. 1280) treats its Faust-like theme, with which we meet again in
Low-German dramatic literature two centuries later, in a rather lifeless
form but in a highly religious spirit, and belongs to the cycle of
miracles of the Virgin of which examples abound throughout this period.
Easter or Passion plays were fully established in popular acceptance in
Paris as well as in other towns of France by the end of the 14th
century; and in 1402 the _Confrérie de la Passion_, who at first devoted
themselves exclusively to the performance of this species, obtained a
royal privilege for the purpose. These series of religious plays were
both extensive and elaborate; perhaps the most notable series (c. 1450)
is that by Arnoul Greban, who died as a canon of Le Mans, his native
town. Its revision, by Jean Michel, containing much illustrative detail
(first performed at Angers in 1486), was very popular. Still more
elaborate is the Rouen Christmas mystery of 1474, and the celebrated
_Mystère du vieil testament_, produced at Abbeville in 1458, and
performed at Paris in 1500. Most of the Provençal Christmas and Passion
plays date from the 14th century, as well as a miracle of St Agnes. The
miracles of saints were popular in all parts of France, and the
diversity of local colouring naturally imparted to these productions
contributed materially to the growth of the early French drama. The
miracles of Ste Geneviève and St Denis came directly home to the
inhabitants of Paris, as that of St Martin to the citizens of Tours;
while the early victories of St Louis over the English might claim a
national significance for the dramatic celebration of his deeds. The
local saints of Provence were in their turn honoured by miracles dating
from the 15th and 16th centuries.

It is less easy to trace the origins of the comic medieval drama in
France, connected as they are with an extraordinary variety of
associations for professional, pious and pleasurable purposes. The _ludi
inhonesti_ in which the students of a Paris college (Navarre) were in
1315 debarred from engaging cannot be proved to have been dramatic
performances; the earliest known secular plays presented by university
students in France were moralities, performed in 1426 and 1431. These
plays, depicting conflicts between opposing influences--and at bottom
the struggle between good and evil in the human soul--become more
frequent from about this time onwards. Now it is (at Rennes in 1439) the
contention between _Bien-avisé_ and _Mal-avisé_ (who at the close find
themselves respectively in charge of _Bonne-fin_ and _Male-fin_); now,
one between _l'homme juste_ and _l'homme mondain_; now, the contrasted
story of _Les Enfants de Maintenant_, who, however, is no abstraction,
but an honest baker with a wife called Mignotte. Political and social
problems are likewise treated; and the _Mystère du Concile de Bâle_--an
historical morality--dates back to 1432. But thought is taken even more
largely of the sufferings of the people than of the controversies of the
Church; and in 1507 we even meet with a hygienic or abstinence morality
(by N. de la Chesnaye) in which "Banquet" enters into a conspiracy with
"Apoplexy," "Epilepsy" and the whole regiment of diseases.

Long before this development of an artificial species had been
consummated--from the beginning of the 14th century onwards--the famous
fraternity or professional union of the Basoche (clerks of the Parlement
and the Châtelet) had been entrusted with the conduct of popular
festivals at Paris, in which, as of right, they took a prominent
personal share; and from a date unknown they had performed plays. But
after the _Confrérie de la Passion_ had been allowed to monopolize the
religious drama, the _basochiens_ had confined themselves to the
presentment of moralities and of farces (from Italian _farsa_, Latin
_farcita_), in which political satire had as a matter of course when
possible found a place. A third association, calling themselves the
_Enfans sans souci_, had, apparently also early in the 15th century,
acquired celebrity by their performances of short comic plays called
soties--in which, as it would seem, at first allegorical figures
ironically "played the fool," but which were probably before long not
very carefully kept distinct from the farces of the Basoche, and were
like these on occasion made to serve the purposes of State or of Church.
Other confraternities and associations readily took a leaf out of the
book of these devil-may-care good-fellows, and interwove their religious
and moral plays with comic scenes and characters from actual life, thus
becoming more and more free and secular in their dramatic methods, and
unconsciously preparing the transition to the regular drama.

The earliest example of a serious secular play known to have been
written in the French tongue is the _Estoire de Griseldis_ (1393); which
is in the style of the miracles of the Virgin, but is largely indebted
to Petrarch. The _Mystère du siege d'Orléans_, on the other hand,
written about half a century later, in the epic tediousness of its
manner comes near to a chronicle history, and interests us chiefly as
the earliest of many efforts to bring Joan of Arc on the stage. Jacques
Milet's celebrated mystery of the _Destruction de Troye la grant_ (1452)
seems to have been addressed to readers and not to hearers only. The
beginnings of the French regular comic drama are again more difficult to
extract from the copious literature of farces and soties, which, after
mingling actual types with abstract and allegorical figures, gradually
came to exclude all but the concrete personages; moreover, the large
majority of these productions in their extant form belong to a later
period than that now under consideration. But there is ample evidence
that the most famous of all medieval farces, the immortal _Maistre
Pierre Pathelin_ (otherwise _L'Avocat Pathelin_), was written before
1470 and acted by the _basochiens_; and we may conclude that this
delightful story of the biter bit, and the profession outwitted,
typifies a multitude of similar comic episodes of real life, dramatized
for the delectation of clerks, lawyers and students, and of all lovers
of laughter.


  The Netherlands.

In the neighbouring Netherlands many Easter and Christmas mysteries are
noted from the middle of the 15th century, attesting the enduring
popularity of these religious plays; and with them the celebrated series
of the Seven Joys of Maria--of which the first is the Annunciation and
the seventh the Ascension. To about the same date belongs the small
group of the so-called _abele spelen_ (as who should say plays easily
managed), chiefly on chivalrous themes. Though allegorical figures are
already to be found in the Netherlands miracles of Mary, the species of
the moralities was specially cultivated during the great Burgundian
period of this century by the chambers or lodges of the _Rederijkers_
(rhetoricians)--the well-known civic associations which devoted
themselves to the cultivation of learned poetry and took an active share
in the festivals that formed one of the most characteristic features of
the life of the Low Countries. Among these moralities was that of
_Elckerlijk_ (printed 1495 and presumably by Peter Dorlandus), which
there is good reason for regarding as the original of one of the finest
of English moralities, _Everyman_.


  Italy.

In Italy the liturgical drama must have run its course as elsewhere; but
the traces of it are few, and confined to the north-east. The collective
mystery, so common in other Western countries, is in Italian literature
represented by a single example only--a _Passione di Gesù Cristo_,
performed at Revello in Saluzzo in the 15th century; though there are
some traces of other cyclic dramas of the kind. The Italian religious
plays, called _figure_ when on Old, _vangeli_ when on New, Testament
subjects, and differing from those of northern Europe chiefly by the
less degree of coarseness in their comic characters, seem largely to
have sprung out of the development of the processional element in the
festivals of the Church. Besides such processions as that of the Three
Kings at Epiphany in Milan, there were the penitential processions and
songs (_laude_), which at Assisi, Perugia and elsewhere already
contained a dramatic element; and at Siena, Florence and other centres
these again developed into the so-called (_sacre_) _rappresentazioni_,
which became the most usual name for this kind of entertainment. Such a
piece was the _San Giovanni e San Paolo_ (1489), by Lorenzo the
Magnificent--the prince who afterwards sought to reform the Italian
stage by paganizing it; another was the _Santa Teodora_, by Luigi Pulci
(d. 1487); _San Giovanni Gualberto_ (of Florence) treats the religious
experience of a latter-day saint; _Rosana e Ulimento_ is a love-story
with a Christian moral. Passion plays were performed at Rome in the
Coliseum by the _Compagnia del Gonfalone_; but there is no evidence on
this head before the end of the 15th century. In general, the
spectacular magnificence of Italian theatrical displays accorded with
the growing pomp of the processions both ecclesiastical and lay--called
_trionfi_ already in the days of Dante; while the religious drama
gradually acquired an artificial character and elaboration of form
assimilating it to the classical attempts, to be noted below, which gave
rise to the regular Italian drama. The poetry of the Troubadours, which
had come from Provence into Italy, here frequently took a dramatic form,
and may have suggested some of his earlier poetic experiments to
Petrarch.

It was a matter of course that remnants of the ancient popular dramatic
entertainments should have survived in particular abundance on Italian
soil. They were to be recognized in the improvised farces performed at
the courts, in the churches (_farse spirituali_), and among the people;
the Roman carnival had preserved its wagon-plays, and various links
remained to connect the modern comic drama of the Italians with the
_Atellanes_ and _mimes_ of their ancestors. But the more notable later
comic developments, which belong to the 16th century, will be more
appropriately noticed below. Moralities proper had not flourished in
Italy, where the love of the concrete has always been dominant in
popular taste; more numerous are examples of scenes, largely
mythological, in which the influence of the Renaissance is already
perceptible, of eclogues, and of allegorical festival-plays of various
sorts.


  Spain.

In Spain hardly a monument of the medieval religious drama has been
preserved. There is manuscript evidence of the 11th century attesting
the early addition of dramatic elements to the Easter office; and a
Spanish fragment of the Three Kings Epiphany play, dating from the 12th
century, is, like the French _Adam_, one of the very earliest examples
of the medieval drama in the vernacular. But that religious plays were
performed in Spain is clear from the permission granted by Alphonso X.
of Castile (d. 1284) to the clergy to represent them, while prohibiting
the performance by them of _juegos de escarnio_ (mocking plays). The
earliest Spanish plays which we possess belong to the end of the 15th or
beginning of the 16th century, and already show humanistic influence. In
1472 the couplets of _Mingo Revulgo_ (i.e. Domingo Vulgus, the common
people), and about the same time another dialogue by the same author,
offer examples of a sort resembling the Italian _contrasti_ (see below).


  Germany.

The German religious plays in the vernacular, the earliest of which date
from the 14th and 15th centuries, and were produced at Trier,
Wolfenbuttel, Innsbruck, Vienna, Berlin, &c., were of a simple kind; but
in some of them, though they were written by clerks, there are traces of
the minstrels' hands. The earliest complete Christmas play in German,
contained in a 14th-century St Gallen MS., has nothing in it to suggest
a Latin original. On the other hand, the play of _The Wise and the
Foolish Virgins_, in a Thuringian MS. thought to be as early as 1328, a
piece of remarkable dignity, was evidently based on a Latin play. Other
festivals besides Christmas were celebrated by plays; but down to the
Reformation Easter enjoyed a preference. In the same century
miracle-plays began to be performed, in honour of St Catherine, St
Dorothea and other saints. But all these productions seem to belong to a
period when the drama was still under ecclesiastical control. Gradually,
as the liturgical drama returned to the simpler forms from which it had
so surprisingly expanded, and ultimately died out, the religious plays
performed outside the churches expanded more freely; and the type of
mystery associated with the name of the Frankfort canon Baldemar von
Peterweil communicated itself, with other examples, to the receptive
region of the south-west. The Corpus Christi plays, or (as they were here
called) _Frohnleichnamsspiele_, are notable, since that of Innsbruck
(1391) is probably the earliest extant example of its class. The number
of non-scriptural religious plays in Germany was much smaller than that
in France; but it may be noted that (in accordance with a long-enduring
popular notion) the theme of the last judgment was common in Germany in
the latter part of the middle ages. Of this theme _Antichrist_ may be
regarded as an episode, though in 1469 an _Antichrist_ appears to have
occupied at Frankfort four days in its performance. The earlier (12th
century) _Antichrist_ is a production quite unique of its kind; this
political protest breathes the Ghibelline spirit of the reign (Frederick
Barbarossa's) in which it was composed.

Though many of the early German plays contain an element of the
moralities, there were few representative German examples of the
species. The academical instinct, or some other influence, kept the more
elaborate productions on the whole apart from the drolleries of the
professional strollers (_fahrende Leute_), whose Shrove-Tuesday plays
(_Fastnachtsspiele_) and cognate productions reproduced the practical
fun of common life. Occasionally, no doubt, as in the Lübeck
_Fastnachtsspiel_ of the Five Virtues, the two species may have more or
less closely approached to one another. When, in the course of the 15th
century, Hans Rosenplüt, called Schnepperer--or Hans Schnepperer, called
Rosenplüt--the predecessor of Hans Sachs, first gave a more enduring
form to the popular Shrove-Tuesday plays, a connexion was already
establishing itself between the dramatic amusements of the people and
the literary efforts of the "master-singers" of the towns. But, while
the main productivity of the writers of moralities and cognate
productions--a species particularly suited to German latitudes--falls
into the periods of Renaissance and Reformation, the religious drama
proper survived far beyond either in Catholic Germany, and, in fact, was
not suppressed in Bavaria and Tirol till the end of the 18th century.[3]


  Sweden, Carpathian lands, &c.

It may be added that the performance of miracle-plays is traceable in
Sweden in the latter half of the 14th century; and that the German
clerks and laymen who immigrated into the Carpathian lands, and into
Galicia in particular, in the later middle ages, brought with them their
religious plays together with other elements of culture. This fact is
the more striking, inasmuch as, though Czech Easter plays were performed
about the end of the 14th century, we hear of none among the Magyars, or
among their neighbours of the Eastern empire.


  Religious drama in England.

  Cornish miracle-plays.

Coming now to the English religious drama, we find that from its extant
literature a fair general idea may be derived of the character of these
medieval productions. The _miracle-plays_, _miracles_ or _plays_ (these
being the terms used in England) of which we hear in London in the 12th
century were probably written in Latin and acted by ecclesiastics; but
already in the following century mention is made--in the way of
prohibition--of plays acted by professional players. (Isolated
moralities of the 12th century are not to be regarded as popular
productions.) In England as elsewhere, the clergy either sought to
retain their control over the religious plays, which continued to be
occasionally acted in churches even after the Reformation, or else
reprobated them with or without qualifications. In Cornwall miracles in
the native Cymric dialect were performed at an early date; but those
which have been preserved are apparently copies of English (with the
occasional use of French) originals; they were represented, unlike the
English plays, in the open country, in extensive amphitheatres
constructed for the purpose--one of which, at St Just near Penzance, has
recently been restored.


  Localities of the performance of miracle-plays.

  The York, Towneley, Chester and Coventry plays.

The flourishing period of English miracle-plays begins with the practice
of their performance by trading-companies in the towns, though these
bodies were by no means possessed of any special privileges for the
purpose. Of this practice Chester is said to have set the example
(1268-1276); it was followed in the course of the 13th and 14th
centuries by many other towns, while in yet others traces of such
performances are not to be found till the 15th, or even the 16th. These
towns with their neighbourhoods include, starting from East Anglia,
where the religious drama was particularly at home, Wymondham, Norwich,
Sleaford, Lincoln, Leeds, Wakefield, Beverley, York, Newcastle-on-Tyne,
with a deviation across the border to Edinburgh and Aberdeen. In the
north-west they are found at Kendal, Lancaster, Preston, Chester;
whence they may be supposed to have migrated to Dublin. In the west they
are noticeable at Shrewsbury, Worcester and Tewkesbury; in the Midlands
at Coventry and Leicester; in the east at Cambridge and Bassingbourne,
Heybridge and Manningtree; to which places have to be added Reading,
Winchester, Canterbury, Bethesda and London, in which last the
performers were the parish-clerks. Four collections, in addition to some
single examples of such plays, have come down to us, the _York_ plays,
the so-called _Towneley_ plays, which were probably acted at the fairs
of Widkirk, near Wakefield, and those bearing the names of _Chester_ and
of _Coventry_. Their dates, in the forms in which they have come down to
us, are more or less uncertain; that of the _York_ may on the whole be
concluded to be earlier than that of the _Towneley_, which were probably
put together about the middle of the 14th century; the _Chester_ may be
ascribed to the close of the 14th or the earlier part of the 15th; the
body of the _Coventry_ probably belongs to the 15th or 16th. Many of the
individual plays in these collections were doubtless founded on French
originals; others are taken direct from Scripture, from the apocryphal
gospels, or from the legends of the saints. Their characteristic feature
is the combination of a whole series of plays into one _collective_
whole, exhibiting the entire course of Bible history from the creation
to the day of judgment. For this combination it is unnecessary to
suppose that they were generally indebted to foreign examples, though
there are several remarkable coincidences between the Chester plays and
the French _Mystère du vieil testament_. Indeed, the oldest of the
series--the _York_ plays--exhibits a fairly close parallel to the scheme
of the _Cursor mundi_, an epic poem of Northumbrian origin, which early
in the 14th century had set an example of treatment that unmistakably
influenced the collective mysteries as a whole. Among the isolated plays
of the same type which have come down to us may be mentioned _The
Harrowing of Hell_ (the Saviour's descent into hell), an East-Midland
production which professes to tell of "a strif of Jesu and of Satan" and
is probably the earliest dramatic, or all but dramatic, work in English
that has been preserved; and several belonging to a series known as the
_Digby Mysteries_, including _Parfre's Candlemas Day_ (the massacre of
the Innocents), and the very interesting miracle of _Mary Magdalene_. Of
the so-called "Paternoster" and "Creed" plays (which exhibit the
miraculous powers of portions of the Church service) no example remains,
though of some we have an account; the Croxton _Play of the Sacrament_,
the MS. of which is preserved at Dublin, and which seems to date from
the latter half of the 15th century, exhibits the triumph of the holy
wafer over wicked Jewish wiles.


  English collective mysteries.

To return to the collective mysteries, as they present themselves to us
in the chief extant series. "The manner of these plays," we read in a
description of those at Chester, dating from the close of the 16th
century, "were:--Every company had his pageant, which pageants were a
high scaffold with two rooms, a higher and a lower, upon four wheels. In
the lower they apparelled themselves, and in the higher room they
played, being all open at the top, that all beholders might hear and see
them. The places where they played them was in every street. They began
first at the abbey gates, and when the first pageant was played, it was
wheeled to the high cross before the mayor, and so to every street, and
so every street had a pageant playing before them at one time till all
the pageants appointed for the day were played; and when one pageant was
near ended, word was brought from street to street, that so they might
come in place thereof, exceedingly orderly, and all the streets have
their pageants afore them all at one time playing together; to see which
plays was great resort, and also scaffolds and stages made in the
streets in those places where they determined to play their pageants."

Each play, then, was performed by the representative of a particular
trade or company, after whom it was called the fishers', glovers', &c.,
_pageant_; while a general prologue was spoken by a herald. As a rule
the movable stage sufficed for the action, though we find horsemen
riding up to the scaffold, and Herod instructed to "rage in the pagond
and in the strete also." There is no probability that the stage was, as
in France, divided into three platforms with a dark cavern at the side
of the lowest, appropriated respectively to the Heavenly Father and his
angels, to saints and glorified men, to mere men, and to souls in hell.
But the last-named locality was frequently displayed in the English
miracles, with or without fire in its mouth. The costumes were in part
conventional,--divine and saintly personages being distinguished by gilt
hair and beards, Herod being clad as a Saracen, the demons wearing
hideous heads, the souls black and white coats according to their kind,
and the angels gold skins and wings.


  Character of the Plays.

Doubtless these performances abounded in what seem to us ludicrous
features; and, though their main purpose was serious, they were not in
England at least intended to be devoid of fun. But many of the features
in question are in truth only homely and _naïf_, and the simplicity of
feeling which they exhibit is at times pathetic rather than laughable.
The occasional grossness is due to an absence of refinement of taste
rather than to an obliquity of moral sentiment. These features the four
series have more or less in common, still there are certain obvious
distinctions between them. The _York_ plays (48), which were performed
at Corpus Christi, are comparatively free from the tendency to
jocularity and vulgarity observable in the _Towneley_; several of the
plays concerned with the New Testament and early Christian story are,
however, in substance common to both series. The _Towneley Plays_ or
_Wakefield Mysteries_ (32) were undoubtedly composed by the friars of
Widkirk or Nostel; but they are of a popular character; and, while
somewhat over-free in tone, are superior in vivacity and humour to both
the later collections. The _Chester Plays_ (25) were undoubtedly
indebted both to the _Mystère du vieil testament_ and to earlier French
mysteries; they are less popular in character than the earlier two
cycles, and on the whole undistinguished by original power of pathos or
humour. There is, on the other hand, a notable inner completeness in
this series, which includes a play of _Antichrist_, devoid of course of
any modern application. While these plays were performed at Whitsuntide,
the _Coventry Plays_ (42) were Corpus Christi performances. Though there
is no proof that the extant series were composed by the Grey Friars,
they reveal a considerable knowledge of ecclesiastical literature. For
the rest, they are far more effectively written than the _Chester
Plays_, and occasionally rise to real dramatic force. In the _Coventry_
series there is already to be observed an element of abstract figures,
which connects them with a different species of the medieval drama.


  Moralities.

  The Devil and the Vice.

The _moralities_ corresponded to the love for allegory which manifests
itself in so many periods of English literature, and which, while
dominating the whole field of medieval literature, was nowhere more
assiduously and effectively cultivated than in England. It is necessary
to bear this in mind, in order to understand what to us seems so
strange, the popularity of the moral-plays, which indeed never equalled
that of the miracles, but sufficed to maintain the former species till
it received a fresh impulse from the connexion established between it
and the "new learning," together with the new political and religious
ideas and questions, of the Reformation age. Moreover, a specially
popular element was supplied to these plays, which in manner of
representation differed in no essential point from the miracles, in a
character borrowed from the latter, and, in the moralities, usually
provided with a companion whose task it was to lighten the weight of
such abstractions as Sapience and Justice. These were the Devil and his
attendant the _Vice_, of whom the latter seems to have been of native
origin, and, as he was usually dressed in a fool's habit, was probably
suggested by the familiar custom of keeping an attendant fool at court
or in great houses. The Vice had many _aliases_ (_Shift_, _Ambidexter_,
_Sin_, _Fraud_, _Iniquity_, &c.), but his usual duty is to torment and
tease the Devil his master for the edification and diversion of the
audience. He was gradually blended with the domestic fool, who survived
in the regular drama. There are other concrete elements in the
moralities; for typical figures are often fitted with concrete names,
and thus all but converted into concrete human personages.


  Groups of English moralities.

The earlier English moralities[4]--from the reign of Henry VI. to that
of Henry VII.--usually allegorize the conflict between good and evil in
the mind and life of man, without any side-intention of theological
controversy. Such also is still essentially the purpose of the extant
morality by Henry VIII.'s poet, the witty Skelton.[5] _Everyman_ (pr. c.
1529), perhaps the most perfect example of its class, with which the
present generation has fortunately become familiar, contains passages
certainly designed to enforce the specific teaching of Rome. But its
Dutch original was written at least a generation earlier, and could have
no controversial intention. On the other hand, R. Wever's _Lusty
Juventus_ breathes the spirit of the dogmatic reformation of the reign
of Edward VI. Theological controversy largely occupies the moralities of
the earlier part of Elizabeth's reign,[6] and connects itself with
political feeling in a famous morality, Sir David Lyndsay's _Satire of
the Three Estaitis_, written and acted (at Cupar, in 1539) on the other
side of the border, where such efforts as the religious drama proper had
made had been extinguished by the Reformation. Only a single English
political morality proper remains to us, which belongs to the beginning
of the reign of Elizabeth.[7] Another series connects itself with the
ideas of the Renaissance rather than the Reformation, treating of
intellectual progress rather than of moral conduct;[8] this extends from
the reign of Henry VIII. to that of his younger daughter. Besides these,
there remain some Elizabethan moralities which have no special
theological or scientific purpose, and which are none the less lively in
consequence.[9]


  Transition from the morality to the regular drama.

  Heywood's interludes.

The transition from the morality to the regular drama in England was
effected, on the one hand, by the intermixture of historical personages
with abstractions--as in Bishop Bale's _Kyng Johan_ (c. 1548)--which
easily led over to the _chronicle history_; on the other, by the
introduction of types of real life by the side of abstract figures. This
latter tendency, of which instances occur in earlier plays, is
observable in several of the 16th-century moralities;[10] but before
most of these were written, a further step in advance had been taken by
a man of genius, John Heywood (b. c. 1500, d. between 1577 and 1587),
whose "interludes"[11] were short farces in the French manner. The term
"interludes" was by no means new, but had been applied by friend and foe
to religious plays, and plays (including moralities) in general, already
in the 14th century. But it conveniently serves to designate a species
which marks a distinct stage in the history of the modern drama.
Heywood's interludes dealt entirely with real--very real--men and women.
Orthodox and conservative, he had at the same time a keen eye for the
vices as well as the follies of his age, and not the least for those of
the clerical profession. Other writers, such as T. Ingeland,[12] took
the same direction; and the allegory of abstractions was thus undermined
on the stage, very much as in didactic literature the ground had been
cut from under its feet by the _Ship of Fooles_. Thus the interludes
facilitated the advent of comedy, without having superseded the earlier
form. Both moralities and miracle-plays survived into the Elizabethan
age after the regular drama had already begun its course.


  Pageants.

Such, in barest outline, was the progress of dramatic entertainments in
the principal countries of Europe, before the revival of classical
studies brought about a return to the examples of the classical drama,
or before this return had distinctly asserted itself. It must not,
however, be forgotten that from an early period in England as elsewhere
had flourished a species of entertainments, not properly speaking
dramatic, but largely contributing to form and foster a taste for
dramatic spectacles. The _pageants_--as they were called in
England--were the successors of those _ridings_ from which, when they
gladdened "Chepe," Chaucer's idle apprentice would not keep away; but
they had advanced in splendour and ingenuity of device under the
influence of Flemish and other foreign examples. Costumed figures
represented before gaping citizens the heroes of mythology and history,
and the abstractions of moral, patriotic, or municipal allegory; and the
city of London clung with special fervour to these exhibitions, which
the Elizabethan drama was neither able nor--as represented by most of
its poets who composed devices and short texts for these and similar
shows--willing to oust from popular favour. Some of the greatest and
some of the least of English dramatists were the ministers of pageantry;
and perhaps it would have been an advantage for the future of the
theatre if the legitimate drama and the _Triumphs of Old Drapery_ had
been more jealously kept apart. With the reign of Henry VIII. there also
set in a varied succession of entertainments at court and in the houses
of the great nobles, which may be said to have lasted through the Tudor
and early Stuart periods; but it would be an endless task to attempt to
discriminate the dramatic elements contained in these productions. The
"mask," stated to have been introduced from Italy into England as a new
diversion in 1512-1513, at first merely added a fresh element of
"disguising" to those already in use; as a quasi-dramatic species
("mask" or "masque") capable of a great literary development it hardly
asserted itself till quite the end of the 16th century.


11. THE MODERN NATIONAL DRAMA

  Influence of the Renaissance.

The literary influence which finally transformed the growths noticed
above into the national dramas of the several countries of Europe, was
that of the Renaissance. Among the remains of classical antiquity which
were studied, translated and imitated, those of the drama necessarily
held a prominent place. Never altogether lost sight of, they now became
subjects of devoted research and models for more or less exact
imitation, first in Greek or Latin, then in modern tongues; and these
essentially literary endeavours came into more or less direct contact
with, and acquired more or less control over, dramatic performances and
entertainments already in existence. This process it will be most
convenient to pursue _seriatim_, in connexion with the rise and progress
of the several dramatic literatures of the West. For no sooner had the
stream of the modern drama, whose source and contributories have been
described, been brought back into the ancient bed, than its flow
diverged into a number of national currents, unequal in impetus and
strength, and varying in accordance with their manifold surroundings.
And even of these it is only possible to survey the most productive or
important.


(a) _Italy._

  The modern Italian drama.

The priority in this as in most of the other aspects of the Renaissance
belongs to Italy. In ultimate achievement the Italian drama fell short
of the fulness of the results obtained elsewhere--a surprising fact when
it is considered, not only that the Italian language had the
vantage-ground of closest relationship to the Latin, but that the genius
of the Italian people has at all times led it to love the drama. The
cause is doubtless to be sought in the lack, noticeable in Italian
national life during a long period, and more especially during the
troubled days of division and strife coinciding with the rise and
earlier promise of Italian dramatic literature, of those loftiest and
most potent impulses of popular feeling to which a national drama owes
so much of its strength. This deficiency was due partly to the
peculiarities of the Italian character, partly to the political and
ecclesiastical experiences which Italy was fated to undergo. The
Italians were alike strangers to the enthusiasm of patriotism, which was
as the breath in the nostrils of the English Elizabethan age, and to the
religious devotion which identified Spain with the spirit of the
Catholic revival. The clear-sightedness of the Italians had something to
do with this, for they were too intelligent to believe in their tyrants,
and too free from illusions to deliver up their minds to their priests.
Finally, the chilling and enervating effects of a pressure of foreign
domination, such as no Western people with a history and a civilization
like those of Italy has ever experienced, contributed to paralyse for
many generations the higher efforts of the dramatic art. No basis was
permanently found for a really national tragedy; while literary comedy,
after turning from the direct imitation of Latin models to a more
popular form, lost itself in an abandoned immorality of tone and in
reckless insolence of invective against particular classes of society.
Though its productivity long continued, the poetic drama more and more
concentrated its efforts upon subordinate or subsidiary species,
artificial in origin and decorative in purpose, and surrendered its
substance to the overpowering aids of music, dancing and spectacle. Only
a single form of the Italian drama, improvised comedy, remained truly
national; and this was of its nature dissociated from higher literary
effort. The revival of Italian tragedy in later times is due partly to
the imitation of French models, partly to the endeavour of a brilliant
genius to infuse into his art the historical and political spirit.
Comedy likewise attained to new growths of considerable significance,
when it was sought to accommodate its popular forms to the
representation of real life in a wider range, and again to render it
more poetical in accordance with the tendencies of modern romanticism.

The regular Italian drama, in both its tragic and its comic branches,
began with a reproduction, in the Latin language, of classical
models--the first step, as it was to prove, towards the transformation
of the medieval into the modern drama, and the birth of modern dramatic
literature. But the process was both tentative and tedious, and must
have died away but for the pomp and circumstance with which some of the
patrons of the Renaissance at Florence, Rome and elsewhere surrounded
these manifestations of a fashionable taste, and for the patriotic
inspiration which from the first induced Italian writers to dramatize
themes of national historic interest. Greek tragedy had been long
forgotten, and one or two indications in the earlier part of the 16th
century of Italian interest in the Greek drama, chiefly due to the
printing presses, may be passed by.[13] To the later middle ages
classical tragedy meant Seneca, and even his plays remained unremembered
till the study of them was revived by the Paduan judge Lovato de' Lovati
(Lupatus, d. 1309). Of the comedies of Plautus three-fifths were not
rediscovered till 1429; and though Terence was much read in the schools,
he found no dramatic imitators, _pour le bon motif_ or otherwise, since
Hrosvitha.

Thus the first medieval follower of Seneca, Albertino Mussato
(1261-1330) may in a sense be called the father of modern dramatic
literature. Born at Padua, to which city all his services were given, he
in 1315 brought out his _Eccerinis_, a Latin tragedy very near to the
confines of epic poetry, intended to warn the Paduans against the
designs of Can Grande della Scala by the example of the tyrant Ezzelino.
Other tragedies of much the same type followed during the ensuing
century; such as L. da Fabiano's _De casu Caesenae_ (1377) a sort of
chronicle history in Latin prose on Cardinal Albornoz' capture of
Caesena.[14] Purely classical themes were treated in the _Achilleis_ of
A. de' Loschi of Vicenza (d. 1441), formerly attributed to Mussato,
several passages of which are taken verbally from Seneca; in the
celebrated _Progne_ of the Venetian Gregorio Cornaro, which is dated
1428-1429, and in later Latin productions included among the
translations and imitations of Greek and Latin tragedies and comedies by
Bishop Martirano (d. 1557), the friend of Pope Leo X.,[15] and the
efforts of Pomponius Laetus and his followers, who, with the aid of
Cardinal Raffaele Riario (1451-1521), sought to revive the ancient
theatre, with all its classical associations, at Rome.

In this general movement Latin comedy had quickly followed suit, and, as
just indicated, it is almost impossible, when we reach the height of the
Italian Renaissance under the Medici at Florence and at Rome in
particular, to review the progress of either species apart from that of
the other. If we possessed the lost _Philologia_ of Petrarch, of which,
as of a juvenile work, he declared himself ashamed, this would be the
earliest of extant humanistic comedies. As it is, this position is held
by _Paulus_, a Latin comedy of life on the classic model, by the
orthodox P. P. Vergerio (1370-1444); which was followed by many
others.[16]


  Italian tragedy in the 16th century.

Early in the 16th century, tragedy began to be written in the native
tongue; but it retained from the first, and never wholly lost, the
impress of its origin. Whatever the source of its subjects--which,
though mostly of classical origin, were occasionally derived from native
romance, or even due to invention--they were all treated with a
predilection for the horrible, inspired by the example of Seneca, though
no doubt encouraged by a perennial national taste. The chorus,
stationary on the stage as in old Roman tragedy, was not reduced to a
merely occasional appearance between the acts till the beginning of the
17th century, or ousted altogether from the tragic drama till the
earlier half of the 18th. Thus the changes undergone by Italian tragedy
were for a long series of generations chiefly confined to the form of
versification and the choice of themes; nor was it, at all events till
the last century of the course which it has hitherto run, more than the
aftergrowth of an aftergrowth. The honour of having been the earliest
tragedy in Italian seems to belong to A. da Pistoia's _Pamfila_ (1499),
of which the subject was taken from Boccaccio, introduced by the ghost
of Seneca, and marred in the taking. Carretto's _Sofonisba_, which
hardly rises above the art of a chronicle history, though provided with
a chorus, followed in 1502. But the play usually associated with the
beginning of Italian tragedy--that with which "th' Italian scene first
learned to glow"--was another _Sofonisba_, acted before Leo X. in 1515,
and written in blank hendecasyllables instead of the _ottava_ and _terza
rima_ of the earlier tragedians (retaining, however, the lyric measures
of the chorus), by G. G. Trissino, who was employed as nuncio by that
pope. Other tragedies of the former half of the 16th century, largely
inspired by Trissino's example, were the _Rosmunda_ of Rucellai, a
nephew of Lorenzo the Magnificent (1516); Martelli's _Tullia_,
Alamanni's _Antigone_ (1532); the _Canace_ of Sperone Speroni, the
envious _Mopsus_ of Tasso, who, like Guarini, took Sperone's elaborate
style for his model; the _Orazia_, the earliest dramatic treatment of
this famous subject by the notorious Aretino (1549); and the nine
tragedies of G. B. Giraldi (Cinthio) of Ferrara, among which
_L'Orbecche_ (1541) is accounted the best and the bloodiest. Cinthio,
the author of those _Hecatommithi_ to which Shakespeare was indebted for
so many of his subjects, was (supposing him to have invented these) the
first Italian who was the author of the fables of his own dramas; he
introduced some novelties into dramatic construction, separating the
prologue and probably also the epilogue from the action, and has by some
been regarded as the inventor of the pastoral drama. But his style was
arid. In the latter half of the 16th century may be mentioned the
_Didone_ and the _Marianna_ of L. Dolce, the translator of Euripides and
Seneca (1565); A. Leonico's _Il Soldato_ (1550); the _Adriana_ (acted
before 1561 or 1586) of L. Groto, which treats the story of _Romeo and
Juliet_; Tasso's _Torrismondo_ (1587); the _Tancredi_ of Asinari (1588);
and the _Merope_ of Torelli (1593), the last who employed the stationary
chorus (_coro fisso_) on the Italian stage. Leonico's _Soldato_ is
noticeable as supposed to have given rise to the _tragedia cittadina_,
or domestic tragedy, of which there are few examples in the Italian
drama, and De Velo's _Tamar_ (1586) as written in prose. Subjects of
modern historical interest were in this period treated only in isolated
instances.[17]


  Italian tragedy in the 17th and 18th centuries.

  Maffei.

  Metastasio.

  Alfieri.

The tragedians of the 17th century continued to pursue the beaten track,
marked out already in the 16th by rigid prescription. In course of time,
however, they sought by the introduction of musical airs to compromise
with the danger with which their art was threatened of being (in
Voltaire's phrase) extinguished by the beautiful monster, the opera, now
rapidly gaining ground in the country of its origin. (See OPERA.) To
Count P. Bonarelli (1589-1659), the author of _Solimano_, is on the
other hand ascribed the first disuse of the chorus in Italian tragedy.
The innovation of the use of rhyme attempted in the learned
Pallavicino's _Erminigildo_ (1655), and defended by him in a discourse
prefixed to the play, was unable to achieve a permanent success in Italy
any more than in England; its chief representative was afterwards
Martelli (d. 1727), whose rhymed Alexandrian verse (_Martelliano_),
though on one occasion used in comedy by Goldoni, failed to commend
itself to the popular taste. By the end of the 17th century Italian
tragedy seemed destined to expire, and the great tragic actor Cotta had
withdrawn in disgust at the apathy of the public towards the higher
forms of the drama. The 18th century was, however, to witness a change,
the beginnings of which are attributed to the institution of the Academy
of the Arcadians at Rome (1690). The principal efforts of the new school
of writers and critics were directed to the abolition of the chorus, and
to a general increase of freedom in treatment. Before long the marquis
S. Maffei with his _Merope_ (first printed 1713) achieved one of the
most brilliant successes recorded in the history of dramatic literature.
This play, which is devoid of any love-story, long continued to be
considered the masterpiece of Italian tragedy; Voltaire, who declared it
"worthy of the most glorious days of Athens," adapted it for the French
stage, and it inspired a celebrated production of the English drama.[18]
It was followed by a tragedy full of horrors,[19] noticeable as having
given rise to the first Italian dramatic _parody_; and by the highly
esteemed productions of Granelli (d. 1769) and his contemporary
Bettinelli. P. T. Metastasio (1698-1782), who had early begun his career
as a dramatist by a strict adherence to the precepts of Aristotle,
gained celebrity by his contributions to the operatic drama at Naples,
Venice and Vienna (where he held office as _poeta cesareo_, whose
function was to arrange the court entertainments). But his _libretti_
have a poetic value of their own;[20] and Voltaire pronounced much of
him worthy of Corneille and of Racine, when at their best. The influence
of Voltaire had now come to predominate over the Italian drama; and, in
accordance with the spirit of the times, greater freedom prevailed in
the choice of tragic themes. Thus the greatest of Italian tragic poets.
Count V. Alfieri (1749-1803), found his path prepared for him. Alfieri's
grand and impassioned treatment of his subjects caused his faultiness of
form, which he never altogether overcame, to be forgotten. His themes
were partly classical;[21] but the spirit of a love of freedom which his
creations[22] breathe was the herald of the national ideas of the
future. Spurning the usages of French tragedy, his plays, which abound
in soliloquies, owe part of their effect to an impassioned force of
declamation, part to those "points" by which Italian acting seems
pre-eminently capable of thrilling an audience. He has much besides the
subjects of two of his dramas[23] in common with Schiller, but his
amazon-muse (as Schlegel called her) was not schooled into serenity,
like the muse of the German poet. Among his numerous plays (21),
_Merope_ and _Saul_, and perhaps _Mirra_, are accounted his
masterpieces.


  Tragedians since Alfieri.

The political colouring given by Alfieri to Italian tragedy reappears in
the plays of U. Foscolo and A. Manzoni, both of whom are under the
influence of the romantic school of modern literature; and to these
names must be added those of S. Pellico and G. B. Niccolini (1785-1861),
Paolo Giacometti (b. 1816) and others, whose dramas[24] treat largely
national themes familiar to all students of modern history and
literature. In their hands Italian tragedy upon the whole adhered to its
love of strong situations and passionate declamation. Since the
successful efforts of G. Modena (1804-1861) renovated the tragic stage
in Italy, the art of tragic acting long stood at a higher level in this
than in almost any other European country; in Adelaide Ristori (Marchesa
del Grillo) the tragic stage lost one of the greatest of modern
actresses; and Ernesto Rossi (1827-1896) and Tommaso Salvini long
remained rivals in the noblest forms of tragedy.


  Italian comedy; popular forms.

  Commedia dell' arte.

  Masked comedy.

In comedy, the efforts of the scholars of the Italian Renaissance for a
time went side by side with the progress of the popular entertainments
noticed above. While the _contrasti_ of the close of the 15th and of the
16th century were disputations between pairs of abstract or allegorical
figures, in the _frottola_ human types take the place of abstractions,
and more than two characters appear. The _farsa_ (a name used of a wide
variety of entertainments) was still under medieval influences, and in
this popular form Alione of Asti (soon after 1500) was specially
productive. To these popular diversions a new literary as well as social
significance was given by the Neapolitan court-poet Sannazaro (c. 1492);
about the same time a _capitano valoroso_, Venturino of Pesara, first
brought on the modern stage the _capitano glorioso_ or _spavente_, the
military braggart, who owed his origin both to Plautus[25] and to the
Spanish officers who abounded in the Italy of those days. The popular
character-comedy, a relic of the ancient _Atellanae_, likewise took a
new lease of life--and this in a double form. The _improvised_ comedy
(_commedia a soggetto_) was now as a rule performed by professional
actors, members of a _craft_, and was thence called the _commedia dell'
arte_, which is said to have been invented by Francesco (called
Terenziano) Cherea, the favourite player of Leo X. Its scenes, still
unwritten except in skeleton (_scenario_), were connected together by
the ligatures or links (_lazzi_) of the _arlecchino_, the descendant of
the ancient Roman _sannio_ (whence our _zany_). Harlequin's summit of
glory was probably reached early in the 17th century, when he was
ennobled in the person of Cecchino by the emperor Matthias; of
Cecchino's successors, Zaccagnino and Truffaldino, we read that "they
shut the door in Italy to good harlequins." Distinct from this growth is
that of the _masked_ comedy, the action of which was chiefly carried on
by certain typical figures in masks, speaking in local dialects,[26]
but which was not improvised, and indeed from the nature of the case
hardly could have been. Its inventor was A. Beolco of Padua, who called
himself Ruzzante (joker), and is memorable under that name as the first
actor-playwright--a combination of extreme significance for the history
of the modern stage. He published six comedies in various dialects,
including the Greek of the day (1530). This was the masked comedy to
which the Italians so tenaciously clung, and in which, as all their own
and imitable by no other nation, they took so great a pride that even
Goldoni was unable to overthrow it. Improvisation and burlesque, alike
abominable to comedy proper, were inseparable from the species.


  Early Italian regular comedy.

Meanwhile, the Latin imitations of Roman, varied by occasional
translations of Greek, comedies early led to the production of Italian
translations, several of which were performed at Ferrara in the last
quarter of the 15th century, whence they spread to Milan, Pavia and
other towns of the north. Contemporaneously, imitations of Latin comedy
made their appearance, for the most part in rhymed verse; most of them
applying classical treatment to subjects derived from Boccaccio's and
other _novelle_, some still mere adaptations of ancient models. In these
circumstances it is all but idle to assign the honour of having been
"the first Italian comedy"--and thus the first comedy in modern dramatic
literature--to any particular play. Boiardo's _Timone_ (before 1494),
for which this distinction was frequently claimed, is to a large extent
founded on a dialogue of Lucian's; and, since some of its personages are
abstractions, and Olympus is domesticated on an upper stage, it cannot
be regarded as more than a transition from the moralities. A. Ricci's _I
Tre Tiranni_ (before 1530) seems still to belong to the same
transitional species. Among the earlier imitators of Latin comedy in the
vernacular may be noted G. Visconti, one of the poets patronized by
Ludovico il Moro at Milan;[27] the Florentines G. B. Araldo, J. Nardi,
the historian,[28] and D. Gianotti.[29] The step--very important had it
been adopted consistently or with a view to consistency--of substituting
prose for verse as the diction of comedy, is sometimes attributed to
Ariosto; but, though his first two comedies were originally written in
prose, the experiment was not new, nor did he persist in its adoption.
Caretto's _I Sei Contenti_ dates from the end of the 15th century, and
Publio Filippo's _Formicone_, taken from Apuleius, followed quite early
in the 16th. Machiavelli, as will be seen, wrote comedies both in prose
and in verse.

But, whoever wrote the first Italian comedy, Ludovico Ariosto was the
first master of the species. All but the first two of his comedies,
belonging as they do to the field of _commedia erudita_, or scholarly
comedy, are in blank verse, to which he gave a singular mobility by the
dactylic ending of the line (_sdrucciolo_). Ariosto's models were the
masterpieces of the _palliata_, and his morals those of his age, which
emulated those of the worst days of ancient Rome or Byzantium in
looseness, and surpassed them in effrontery. He chose his subjects
accordingly; but his dramatic genius displayed itself in the effective
drawing of character,[30] and more especially in the skilful management
of complicated intrigues.[31] Such, with an additional brilliancy of wit
and lasciviousness of tone, are likewise the characteristics of
Machiavelli's famous prose comedy, the _Mandragola_ (_The Magic
Draught_);[32] and at the height of their success, of the plays of P.
Aretino,[33] especially the prose _Marescalco_ (1526-1527) whose name,
it has been said, ought to be written in asterisks. It may be added that
the plays of Ariosto and his followers were represented with magnificent
scenery and settings. Other dramatists of the 16th century were B.
Accolti, whose _Virginia_ (prob. before 1513) treats the story from
Boccaccio which reappears in _All's Well that Ends Well_; G. Cecchi, F.
d'Ambra, A. F. Grazzini, N. Secco or Secchi and L. Dolce--all writers of
romantic comedy of intrigue in verse or prose.


  The pastoral drama.

During the same century the "pastoral drama" flourished in Italy. The
origin of this peculiar species--which was the bucolic idyll in a
dramatic form, and which freely lent itself to the introduction of both
mythological and allegorical elements--was purely literary, and arose
directly out of the classical studies and tastes of the Renaissance. It
was very far removed from the genuine peasant plays which flourished in
Venetia and Tuscany early in the 16th century. The earliest example of
the artificial, but in some of its productions exquisite, growth in
question was the renowned scholar A. Politian's _Orfeo_ (1472), which
begins like an idyll and ends like a tragedy. Intended to be performed
with music--for the pastoral drama is the parent of the opera--this
beautiful work tells its story simply. N. da Correggio's (1450-1508)
_Cefalo_, or _Aurora_, and others followed, before in 1554 A. Beccari
produced, as totally new of its kind, his Arcadian pastoral drama _Il
Sagrifizio_, in which the comic element predominates. But an epoch in
the history of the species is marked by the _Aminta_ of Tasso (1573), in
whose Arcadia is allegorically mirrored the Ferrara court. Adorned by
choral lyrics of great beauty, it presents an allegorical treatment of a
social and moral problem; and since the conception of the characters,
all of whom think and speak of nothing but love, is artificial, the
charm of the poem lies not in the interest of its action, but in the
passion and sweetness of its sentiment. This work was the model of many
others, and the pastoral drama reached its height of popularity in the
famous _Pastor fido_ (written before 1590) of G. B. Guarini, which,
while founded on a tragic love-story, introduces into its complicated
plot a comic element, partly with a satirical intention. It is one of
those exceptional works which, by circumstance as well as by merit, have
become the property of the world's literature at large. Thus, both in
Italian and in other literatures, the pastoral drama became a distinct
species, characterized, like the great body of modern pastoral poetry in
general, by a tendency either towards the artificial or towards the
burlesque. Its artificiality affected the entire growth of Italian
comedy, including the _commedia dell' arte_, and impressed itself in an
intensified form upon the opera. The foremost Italian masters of the
last-named species, so far as it can claim to be included in the poetic
drama, were A. Zeno (1668-1750) and P. Metastasio.


  Comedy in the 17th and 18th centuries.

  Goldoni.

  Gozzi.

The comic dramatists of the 17th century are grouped as followers of the
classical and of the romantic school, G. B. della Porta (q.v.) and G. A.
Cicognini (whom Goldoni describes as full of whining pathos and
commonplace drollery, but as still possessing a great power to interest)
being regarded as the leading representatives of the former. But neither
of these largely intermixed groups of writers could, with all its
fertility, prevail against the competition, on the one hand of the
musical drama, and on the other of the popular farcical entertainments
and those introduced in imitation of Spanish examples. Italian comedy
had fallen into decay, when its reform was undertaken by the wonderful
theatrical genius of C. Goldoni. One of the most fertile and rapid of
playwrights (of his 150 comedies 16 were written and acted in a single
year), he at the same time pursued definite aims as a dramatist.
Disgusted with the conventional buffoonery, and ashamed of the rampant
immorality of the Italian comic stage, he drew his characters from real
life, whether of his native city (Venice)[34] or of society at large,
and sought to enforce virtuous and pathetic sentiments without
neglecting the essential objects of his art. Happy and various in his
choice of themes, and dipping deep into a popular life with which he had
a genuine sympathy, he produced, besides comedies of general human
character,[35] plays on subjects drawn from literary biography[36] or
from fiction.[37] Goldoni, whose style was considered defective by the
purists whom Italy has at no time lacked, met with a severe critic and a
temporarily successful rival in Count C. Gozzi (1722-1806), who sought
to rescue the comic drama from its association with the actual life of
the middle classes, and to infuse a new spirit into the figures of the
old masked comedy by the invention of a new species. His themes were
taken from Neapolitan[38] and Oriental[39] fairy tales, to which he
accommodated some of the standing figures upon which Goldoni had made
war. This attempt at mingling fancy and humour--occasionally of a
directly satirical turn[40]--was in harmony with the tendencies of the
modern romantic school; and Gozzi's efforts, which though successful
found hardly any imitators in Italy, have a family resemblance to those
of Tieck and of some more recent writers whose art wings its flight,
through the windows, "over the hills and far away."


  Comedians after Goldoni.

During the latter part of the 18th and the early years of the 19th
century comedy continued to follow the course marked out by its
acknowledged master Goldoni, under the influence of the sentimental
drama of France and other countries. Abati Andrea Villi, the marquis
Albergati Capacelli, Antonio Simone Sografi (1760-1825), Federici, and
Pietro Napoli Signorelli (1731-1815), the historian of the drama, are
mentioned among the writers of this school; to the 19th century belong
Count Giraud, Marchisio (who took his subjects especially from
commercial life), and Nota, a fertile writer, among whose plays are
three treating the lives of poets. Of still more recent date are L. B.
Bon and A. Brofferio. At the same time, the comedy of dialect to which
the example of Goldoni had given sanction in Venice, flourished there as
well as in the mutually remote spheres of Piedmont and Naples. Quite
modern developments must remain unnoticed here; but the fact cannot be
ignored that they signally illustrate the perennial vitality of the
modern drama in the home of its beginnings. A new realistic style set
fully in about the middle of the 18th century with P. Ferrari and A.
Torelli; and though an historical reaction towards classical and
medieval themes is associated with the names of P. Cossa and G. Giacosa,
modernism reasserted itself through P. Bracco and other dramatists. It
should be noted that the influence of great actors, more especially
Ermete Novelli and Eleanora Duse, must be credited with a large share of
the success with which the Italian stage has held its own even against
the foreign influences to which it gave room. And it would seem as if
even the paradoxical endeavour of the poet Gabrielle d' Annunzio to
lyricize the drama by ignoring action as its essence were a problem for
the solution of which the stage can furnish unexpected conditions of its
own. In any event, both Italian tragedy and Italian comedy have survived
periods of a seemingly hopeless decline; and the fear has vanished that
either the opera or the ballet might succeed in ousting from the
national stage the legitimate forms of the national drama.


(b) _Greece._

  Modern Greek and Dalmatian drama.

The dramatic literature of the later Hellenes is a creation of the
literary movement which preceded their noble struggle for independence,
or which may be said to form part of that struggle. After beginning with
dramatic dialogues of a patriotic tendency, it took a step in advance
with the tragedies of J. R. Nerulos[41] (1778-1850), whose name belongs
to the political as well as to the literary history of his country. His
comedies--especially one directed against the excesses of
journalism[42]--largely contributed to open a literary life for the
modern Greek tongue. Among the earlier patriotic Greek dramatists of the
19th century are T. Alkaeos, J. Zampelios (whose tragic style was
influenced by that of Alfieri),[43] S. K. Karydis and A. Valaoritis. A.
Zoiros[44] is noteworthy as having introduced the use of prose into
Greek tragedy, while preserving to it that association with sentiments
and aspirations which will probably long continue to pervade the chief
productions of modern Greek literature. The love of the theatre is
ineradicable from Attic as it is from Italian soil; and the tendencies
of the young dramatic literature of Hellas which is not wholly absorbed
in the effort to keep abreast of recent modern developments, seem to
justify the hope that a worthy future awaits it.

Under Italian influence an interesting dramatic growth attained to some
vitality in the Dalmatian lands about the beginning of the 16th century,
where the religious drama, whose days were passing away in Italy, found
favour with a people with a scant popular literature of its own. At
Ragusa Italian literary influence had been spread by the followers of
Petrarch from the later years of the 15th century; here several
Servo-Croatian writers produced religious plays in the manner of the
Italian _rappresentazioni_; and a gifted poet, Martin Drzic, composed,
besides religious plays and farces, a species of pastoral which enjoyed
much favour.


(c) _Spain._

Spain is the only country of modern Europe which shares with England the
honour of having achieved, at a relatively early date, the creation of a
genuinely national form of the regular drama. So proper to Spain was the
form of the drama which she produced and perfected, that to it the term
_romantic_ has been specifically applied, though so restricted a use of
the epithet is clearly unjustifiable. The influences which from the
Romance peoples--in whom Christian and Germanic elements mingled with
the legacy of Roman law, learning and culture--spread to the Germanic
nations were represented with the most signal force and fulness in the
institutions of chivalry,--to which, in the words of Scott, "it was
peculiar to blend military valour with the strongest passions which
actuate the human mind, the feelings of devotion and those of love."
These feelings, in their combined operation upon the national character,
and in their reflection in the national literature, were not confined to
Spain; but nowhere did they so long or so late continue to animate the
moral life of a nation.

Outward causes contributed to this result. For centuries after the
crusades had become a mere memory, Spain was a battle-ground between the
Cross and the Crescent. And it was just at the time when the Renaissance
was establishing new starting-points for the literary progress of
Europe, that Christian Spain rose to the height of Catholic as well as
national self-consciousness by the expulsion of the Moors and the
conquest of the New World. From their rulers or rivals of so many
centuries the Spaniards derived that rich, if not very varied, glow of
colour which became permanently distinctive of their national life, and
more especially of its literary and artistic expressions; they also
perhaps derived from the same source a not less characteristically
refined treatment of the passion of love. The ideas of Spanish
chivalry--more especially religious devotion and a punctilious sense of
personal honour--asserted themselves (according to a process often
observable in the history of civilization) with peculiar distinctness in
literature and art, after the period of great achievements to which they
had contributed in other fields had come to an end. The ripest glories
of the Spanish drama belong to an age of national decay--mindful, it is
true, of the ideas of a greater past. The chivalrous enthusiasm
pervading so many of the masterpieces of its literature is indeed a
distinctive feature of the Spanish nation in all, even in the least
hopeful, periods of its later history; and the religious ardour breathed
by these works, though associating itself with what is called the
Catholic Reaction, is in truth only a manifestation of the spirit which
informed the noblest part of the Reformation movement itself. The
Spanish drama neither sought nor could seek to emancipate itself from
views and forms of religious life more than ever sacred to the Spanish
people since the glorious days of Ferdinand and Isabella; and it is not
so much in the beginnings as in the great age of Spanish dramatic
literature that it seems most difficult to distinguish between what is
to be termed a religious and what a secular play. After Spain had thus,
the first after England among modern European countries, fully unfolded
that incomparably richest expression of national life and sentiment in
an artistic form--a truly national dramatic literature,--the terrible
decay of her greatness and prosperity gradually impaired the strength of
a brilliant but, of its nature, dependent growth. In the absence of high
original genius the Spanish dramatists began to turn to foreign models,
though little supported in such attempts by popular sympathy; and it is
only in more recent times that the Spanish drama has sought to reproduce
the ancient forms from whose masterpieces the nation had never become
estranged, while accommodating them to tastes and tendencies shared by
later Spanish literature with that of Europe at large.


  Early efforts.

  Gil Vicente.

The earlier dramatic efforts of Spanish literature may without
inconvenience be briefly dismissed. The reputed author of the _Coplas de
Mingo Revulgo_ (R. Cota the elder) likewise composed the first act of a
story of intrigue and character, purely dramatic but not intended for
representation. This tragic comedy of _Calisto and Meliboea_, which was
completed (in 21 acts) by 1499, afterwards became famous under the name
of _Celestina_; it was frequently imitated and translated, and was
adapted for the Spanish stage by R. de Zepeda in 1582. But the father of
the Spanish drama was J. de la Enzina, whose _representaciones_ under
the name of "eclogues" were dramatic dialogues of a religious or
pastoral character. His attempts were imitated more especially by the
Portuguese Gil Vicente, whose writings for the stage appear to be
included in the period 1502-1536, and who wrote both in Spanish and in
his native tongue. A further impulse came, as was natural, from
Spaniards resident in Italy, and especially from B. de Torres Naharro,
who in 1517 published, as the chief among the "firstlings of his genius"
(_Propaladia_), a series of eight _comedias_--a term generally applied
in Spanish literature to any kind of drama. He claimed some knowledge of
the theory of the ancient drama, divided his plays into _jornadas_[45]
(to correspond to acts), and opened them with an _introyto_ (prologue).
Very various in their subjects, and occasionally odd in form,[46] they
were gross as well as audacious in tone, and were soon prohibited by the
Inquisition. The church remained unwilling to renounce her control over
such dramatic exhibitions as she permitted, and sought to suppress the
few plays on not strictly religious subjects which appeared in the early
part of the reign of Charles I. Though the universities produced both
translations from the classical drama and modern Latin plays, these
exercised very little general effect. Juan Perez' (Petreius') posthumous
Latin comedies were mainly versions of Ariosto.[47]


  Lope de Rueda and his followers.

  Classical dramas.

Thus the foundation of the Spanish national theatre was reserved for a
man of the people. Cervantes has vividly sketched the humble resources
which were at the command of Lope de Rueda, a mechanic of Seville, who
with his friend the bookseller Timoneda, and two brother authors and
actors in his strolling company, succeeded in bringing dramatic
entertainments out of the churches and palaces into the public places of
the towns, where they were produced on temporary scaffolds. The manager
carried about his properties in a corn-sack; and the "comedies" were
still only "dialogues, and a species of eclogues between two or three
shepherds and a shepherdess," enlivened at times by intermezzos of
favourite comic figures, such as the negress or the Biscayan, "played
with inconceivable talent and truthfulness by Lope." One of his plays at
least,[48] and one of Timoneda's,[49] seem to have been taken from an
Italian source; others mingled modern themes with classical
apparitions,[50] one of Timoneda's was (perhaps again through the
Italian) from Plautus.[51] Others of a slighter description were called
_pasos_,--a species afterwards termed _entremeses_ and resembling the
modern French _proverbes_. With these popular efforts of Lope de Rueda
and his friends a considerable dramatic activity began in the years
1560-1590 in several Spanish cities, and before the close of this period
permanent theatres began to be fitted up at Madrid. Yet Spanish dramatic
literature might still have been led to follow Italian into an imitation
of classical models. Two plays by G. Bermudez (1577), called by their
learned author "the first Spanish tragedies," treating the national
subject of Inez de Castro, but divided into five acts, composed in
various metres, and introducing a chorus; a _Dido_ (c. 1580) by C. de
Virues (who claimed to have first divided dramas into three _jornadas_);
and the tragedies of L. L. de Argensola (acted 1585, and praised in _Don
Quixote_) alike represent this tendency.


  Cervantes.

Such were the alternatives which had opened for the Spanish drama, when
at last, about the same time as that of the English, its future was
determined by writers of original genius. The first of these was the
immortal Cervantes, who, however, failed to anticipate by his earlier
plays (1584-1588) the great (though to him unproductive) success of his
famous romance. In his endeavour to give a poetic character to the drama
he fell upon the expedient of introducing personified abstractions
speaking a "divine" or elevated language--a device which was for a time
favourably received. But these plays exhibit a neglect or ignorance of
the laws of dramatic construction; their action is episodical; and it is
from the realism of these episodes (especially in the _Numancia_, which
is crowded with both figures and incidents), and from the power and flow
of the declamation, that their effect must have been derived. When in
his later years (1615) Cervantes returned to dramatic composition, the
style and form of the national drama had been definitively settled by a
large number of writers, the brilliant success of whose acknowledged
chief may previously have diverted Cervantes from his labours for the
theatre. His influence upon the general progress of dramatic literature
is, however, to be sought, not only in his plays, but also in those
_novelas exemplares_--incomparable alike in their clearness and their
terseness of narrative--to which more than one drama is indebted for its
plot, and for much of its dialogue to boot.


  Lope de Vega.

Lope de Vega, one of the most astonishing geniuses the world has known,
permanently established the national forms of the Spanish drama. Some of
these were in their beginnings taken over by him from ruder
predecessors; some were cultivated with equal or even superior success
by subsequent authors; but in variety, as in fertility of dramatic
production, he has no rivals. His fertility, which was such that he
wrote about 1500 plays, besides 300 dramatic works classed as _autos
sacramentales_ and _entremeses_, and a vast series of other literary
compositions, has indisputably prejudiced his reputation with those to
whom he is but a name and a number. Yet as a dramatist Lope more fully
exemplifies the capabilities of the Spanish theatre than any of his
successors, though as a poet Calderon may deserve the palm. Nor would it
be possible to imagine a truer representative of the Spain of his age
than a poet who, after suffering the hardships of poverty and exile, and
the pangs of passion, sailed against the foes of the faith in the
Invincible Armada, subsequently became a member of the Holy Inquisition
and of the order of St Francis, and after having been decorated by the
pope with the cross of Malta and a theological doctorate, honoured by
the nobility, and idolized by the nation, ended with the names of Jesus
and Mary on his lips. From the plays of such a writer we may best learn
the manners and the sentiments, the ideas of religion and honour, of the
Spain of the Philippine age, the age when she was most prominent in the
eyes of Europe and most glorious in her own. For, with all its
inventiveness and vigour, the genius of Lope primarily set itself the
task of pleasing his public,--the very spirit of whose inner as well as
outer life is accordingly mirrored in his dramatic works. In them we
have, in the words of Lope's French translator Baret, "the movement, the
clamour, the conflict of unforeseen intrigues suitable to unreflecting
spectators; perpetual flatteries addressed to an unextinguishable
national pride; the painting of passions dear to a people never tired of
admiring itself; the absolute sway of the point of honour; the
deification of revenge; the adoration of symbols; buffoonery and
burlesque, everywhere beloved of the multitude, but here never defiled
by obscenities, for this people has a sense of delicacy, and the
foundation of its character is nobility; lastly, the flow of proverbs
which at times escape from the _gracioso_" (the comic servant
domesticated in the Spanish drama by Lope)--"the commonplace literature
of those who possess no other."


  Comedias de capa y espada.

  Heróicas.

  Comedias de santos.

  Autos sacramentales.

  Entremeses.

The plays of Lope, and those of the national Spanish drama in general,
are divided into classes which it is naturally not always easy, and
which there is no reason to suppose him always to have intended, to keep
distinct from one another. After in his early youth composing eclogues,
pastoral plays, and allegorical moralities in the old style, he began
his theatrical activity at Madrid about 1590, and the plays which he
thenceforth produced have been distributed under the following heads.
The _comedias_, all of which are in verse, include (1) the so-called _c.
de capa y espada_--not comedies proper, but dramas in which the
principal personages are taken from the class of society that wears
cloak and sword. Gallantry is their main theme, an interesting and
complicated, but well-constructed and perspicuous intrigue their chief
feature; and this is usually accompanied by an underplot in which the
_gracioso_ plays his part. Their titles are frequently taken from the
old proverbs or proverbial phrases of the people[52] upon the theme
suggested, by which the plays often (as G. H. Lewes admirably expresses
it) constitute a kind of gloss (_glosa_) in action. This is the
favourite species of the national Spanish theatre; and to the plots of
the plays belonging to it the drama of other nations owes a debt almost
incalculable in extent. (2) The _c. heróicas_ are distinguished by some
of their personages being of royal or very high rank, and by their
themes being often historical and largely[53] (though not
invariably[54]) taken from the national annals, or founded on
contemporary or recent events.[55] Hence they exhibit a greater gravity
of tone; but in other respects there is no difference between them and
the cloak-and-sword comedies with which they share the element of comic
underplots. Occasionally Lope condescended in the opposite direction, to
(3) plays of which the scene is laid in common life, but for which no
special name appears to have existed.[56] Meanwhile, both he and his
successors were too devoted sons of the church not to acknowledge in
some sort her claim to influence the national drama. This claim she had
never relinquished, even when she could no longer retain an absolute
control over the stage. For a time, indeed, she was able to reassert
even this; for the exhibition of all secular plays was in 1598
prohibited by the dying Philip II., and remained so for two years; and
Lope with his usual facility proceeded to supply religious plays of
various kinds. After a few dramas on scriptural subjects he turned to
the legends of the saints; and the _comedias de santos_, of which he
wrote a great number, became an accepted later Spanish variety of the
miracle-play. True, however, to the popular instincts of his genius, he
threw himself with special zeal and success into the composition of
another kind of religious plays--a development of the Corpus Christi
pageants, in honour of which all the theatres had to close their doors
for a month. These were the famous _autos sacramentales_ (i.e. solemn
"acts" or proceedings in honour of the Sacrament), which were performed
in the open air by actors who had filled the cars of the sacred
procession. Of these Lope wrote about 400. These entertainments were
arranged on a fixed scheme, comprising a prologue in dialogue between
two or more actors in character (_loa_), a farce (_entremes_), and the
_auto_ proper, an allegorical scene of religious purport, as an example
of which Ticknor cites the _Bridge of the World_,--in which the Prince
of Darkness in vain seeks to defend the bridge against the Knight of the
Cross, who finally leads the Soul of Man in triumph across it. Not all
the _entremeses_ of Lope and others were, however, composed for
insertion in these _autos_. This long-lived popular species, together
with the old kind of dramatic dialogue called _eclogues_, completes the
list of the varieties of his dramatic works.


  The school of Lope.

The example of Lope was followed by a large number of writers, and Spain
thus rapidly became possessed of a dramatic literature almost
unparalleled in quantity--for in fertility also Lope was but the first
among many. Among the writers of Lope's school, his friend G. de Castro
(1569-1631) must not be passed by, for his _Cid_[57] was the basis of
Corneille's; nor J. P. de Montalban, "the first-born of Lope's genius,"
the extravagance of whose imagination, like that of Lee, culminated in
madness. Soon after him died (1639) Juan Ruiz de Alarcon, in whose
plays, as contrasted with those of Lope, has been recognized the
distinctive element of a moral purpose. To G. Tellez, called Tirso de
Molina (d. 1648), no similar praise seems due; but the frivolous gaiety
of the inventor of the complete character of Don Juan was accompanied by
ingenuity in the construction of his excellent[58] though at times
"sensational"[59] plots. F. de Rojas Zorrilla (b. 1607), who was largely
plundered by the French dramatists of the latter half of the century,
survived Molina for about a generation. In vain scholars of strictly
classical tastes protested in essays in prose and verse against the
ascendancy of the popular drama; the prohibition of Philip II. had been
recalled two years after his death and was never renewed; and the
activity of the theatre spread through the towns and villages of the
land, everywhere under the controlling influence of the school of
writers who had established so complete a harmony between the drama and
the tastes and tendencies of the people.


  Calderon.

The glories of Spanish dramatic literature reached their height in P.
Calderon de la Barca, though in the history of the Spanish theatre he
holds only the second place. He elaborated some of the forms of the
national drama, but brought about no changes of moment in any of them.
Even the brilliancy of his style, glittering with a constant
reproduction of the same family of tropes, and the variety of his
melodious versification, are mere intensifications of the poetic
qualities of Lope, while in their moral and religious sentiments, and
their general views of history and society, there is no difference
between the two. Like Lope, Calderon was a soldier in his youth and an
ecclesiastic in his later years; like his senior, he suited himself to
the tastes of both court and people, and applied his genius with equal
facility to the treatment of religious and of secular themes. In
fertility Calderon was inferior to Lope (for he wrote not many more than
100 plays); but he surpasses the elder poet in richness of style, and
more especially in fire of imagination. In his _autos_ (of which he is
said to have left not less than 73), Calderon probably attained to his
most distinctive excellence; some of these appear to take a wide range
of allegorical invention,[60] while they uniformly possess great beauty
of poetical detail. Other of his most famous or interesting pieces are
_comedias de santos_.[61] In his secular plays he treats as wide a
variety of subjects as Lope, but it is not a dissimilar variety; nor
would it be easy to decide whether a poet so uniformly admirable within
his limits has achieved greater success in romantic historical
tragedy,[62] in the comedy of amorous intrigue,[63] or in a dramatic
work combining fancy and artificiality in such a degree that it has been
diversely described as a romantic caprice and as a philosophical
poem.[64]


  Contemporaries of Calderon.

  Moreto and the comedia de figuron.

During the life of the second great master of the Spanish drama there
was little apparent abatement in the productivity of its literature;
while the _autos_ continued to flourish in Madrid and elsewhere, till in
1765 (shortly before the expulsion of the Jesuits from Spain) their
public representation was prohibited by royal decree. In the world of
fashion, the opera had reached Spain already during Calderon's lifetime,
together with other French influences, and the great dramatist had
himself written one or two of his plays for performance with music. But
the regular national drama continued to command popular favour, and with
A. Moreto may be said to have actually taken a step in advance. While he
wrote in all the forms established by Lope and cultivated by Calderon,
his manner seems most nearly to approach the masterpieces of French and
later English comedy of character; he was the earliest writer of the
_comedias de figuron_, in which the most prominent personage is (in
Congreve's phrase) "a character of affectation," in other words, the
Spanish fop of real life.[65] His masterpiece, a favourite of many
stages, is one of the most graceful and pleasing of modern
comedies--simple but interesting in plot, and true to nature, with
something like Shakespearian truth.[66] Other writers trod more closely
in the footsteps of the masters without effecting any noticeable changes
in the form of the Spanish drama; even the _saynete_ (tit-bit), which
owes its name to Benavente (fl. 1645), was only a kind of _entremes_.
The Spanish drama in all its forms retained its command over the nation,
because they were alike popular in origin and character; nor is there
any other example of so complete an adaptation of a national art to the
national taste and sentiment in its ethics and aesthetics, in the nature
of the plots of the plays (whatever their origin), in the motives of
their actions, in the conduct and tone and in the very costume of their
characters.


  Decay of the national Spanish drama.

  The French school of the 18th century.

  Other later dramatists.

National as it was, and because of this very quality, the Spanish drama
was fated to share the lot of the people it so fully represented. At the
end of the 17th century, when the Spanish throne at last became the
declared apple of discord among the governments of Europe, the Spanish
people lay, in the words of an historian of its later days, "like a
corpse, incapable of feeling its own impotence." That national art to
which it had so faithfully clung had fallen into decline and decay with
the spirit of Spain itself. By the time of the close of the great war,
the theatre had sunk into a mere amusement of the populace, which during
the greater part of the 18th century, while allowing the old masters the
measure of favour which accords with traditional esteem, continued to
uphold the representatives of the old drama in its degeneracy--authors on
the level of their audiences. But the Spanish court was now French, and
in the drama, even more than in any other form of art, France was the
arbiter of taste in Europe. With the restoration of peace accordingly
began isolated attempts to impose the French canons of dramatic theory,
and to follow the example of French dramatic practice; and in the middle
of the century these endeavours assumed more definite form. Montiano's
bloodless tragedy of _Virginia_ (1750), which was never acted, was
accompanied by a discourse endeavouring to reconcile the doctrines of the
author with the practice of the old Spanish dramatists; the play itself
was in blank verse (a metre never used by Calderon, though occasionally
by Lope), instead of the old national ballad-measures (the
romance-measure with assonance and the rhymed _redondilla_ quatrain)
preferred by the old masters among the variety of metres employed by
them. The earliest Spanish comedy in the French form (a translation only,
though written in the national metre)[67] (1751), and the first original
Spanish comedy on the same model, Nicolas Moratin's _Petimetra_
(_Petite-Maîtresse_), printed in 1726 with a critical dissertation,
likewise remained unacted. In 1770, however, the same author's
_Hormesinda_, an historic drama on a national theme and in the national
metre, but adhering to the French rules, appeared on the stage; and
similar attempts followed in tragedy by the same writer and others
(including Ayala, who ventured in 1775 to compete with Cervantes on the
theme of Numantia), and in comedy by Iriarte and Jovellanos (afterwards
minister under Godoy), who produced a sentimental comedy in Diderot's
manner.[68] But these endeavours failed to effect any change in the
popular theatre, which was with more success raised from its deepest
degradation by R. de la Cruz, a fertile author of light pieces of genuine
humour, especially _saynetes_, depicting the manners of the middle and
lower classes. In literary circles Garcia de la Huerta's voluminous
collection of the old plays (1785) gave a new impulse to dramatic
productivity, and the conflict continued between representatives of the
old school, such as Luciano Francisco Comella (1716-1779) and of the new,
such as the younger Moratin, whose comedies--of which the last and most
successful[69] was in prose--raised him to the foremost position among
the dramatists of his age. In tragedy N. de Cienfuegos likewise showed
some originality. After, however, the troubles of the French domination
and the war had come to an end, the precepts and examples of the new
school failed to reassert themselves.

Already in 1815 an active critical controversy was carried on by Böhl de
Faber against the efforts of J. Faber and Alcalá Galiano to uphold the
principles of classicism; and with the aid of the eminent actor Máiquez
the old romantic masterpieces were easily reinstated in the public
favour, which as a matter of fact they had never forfeited. The Spanish
dramatists of the 19th century, after passing, as in the instance of F.
Martinez de la Rosa and Bréton de los Herreros, from the system of
French comedy to the manner of the national drama, appear either to have
stood under the influence of the French romantic school, or to have
returned once more to the old Spanish models. Among the former class A.
Gil y Zarate, of the latter J. Zorrilla, are mentioned as specially
prominent. The most renowned Spanish dramatist at the opening of the
20th century was the veteran politician and man of letters J. Echegaray.

Meanwhile, the old religious performances are not wholly extinct in
Spain, and the relics of the solemn pageantry with which they were
associated may long continue to survive there, as in the case of the
_pasos_, which claim to have been exhibited in Holy Week at Seville for
at least three centuries. As to the theatre itself, there can be no fear
either that the imitation of foreign examples will satisfy Spanish
dramatists--especially when, like the author of _Doña Perfecta_ (Perez
Galdos), they have excellent home material of their own for
adaptation,--or that the Spanish public itself, with fine actors and
actresses still upholding the lofty traditions of the national drama,
will remain too fatigued to consume the drama unless bit by bit--in the
shape of _zarzuelas_ and similar one-act confections. Whatever may be
the future of one of the noblest of modern dramatic literatures, it may
confidently be predicted that, so long as Spain is Spain, her theatre
will not be permanently either denationalized or degraded.


(d) _Portugal._

  The Portuguese drama.

The Portuguese drama in its earlier phases, especially before in the
latter part of the 14th century the nation completely achieved its
independence, seems to have followed much the same course as the
Spanish; and the religious drama in all its prevailing forms and direct
outgrowths retained its popularity even by the side of the products of
the Renaissance. In the later period of that movement translations of
classical dramas into the vernacular were stimulated by the cosmopolitan
example of George Buchanan, who for a time held a post in the university
of Coimbra; to this class of play Teive's _Johannes_ (1553) may be
supposed to have belonged. In the next generation Antonio Ferreira[70]
and others still wrote comedies more or less on the classical model. But
the rather vague title of "the Plautus of Portugal" is accorded to an
earlier comic writer, the celebrated Gil Vicente, who died about 1536,
after, it is stated, producing forty-two plays. He was the founder of
popular Portuguese comedy, and his plays were called _autos_, or by the
common name of _praticas_.[71] Among his most gifted successors are
mentioned A. Ribeiro, called _Chiado_ (the mocking-bird), who died in
1590;[72] his brother Jeronymo, B. Dias, A. Pires, J. Pinto, H. Lopes
and others. The dramatic efforts of the illustrious poet Luis de Camões
(Camoens) are relatively of slight importance; they consist of one of
the many modern versions of the _Amphitruo_, and of two other comedies,
of which the earlier (_Filodemo_) was acted at Goa in 1553, the subjects
having a romantic colour.[73] Of greater importance were the
contributions to dramatic literature of F. de Sá de Miranda, who, being
well acquainted with both Spanish and Italian life, sought early in his
career to domesticate the Italian comedy of intrigue on the Portuguese
stage;[74] but he failed to carry with him the public taste, which
preferred the _autos_ of Gil Vicente. The followers of Miranda were,
however, more successful than he had been himself, among them the
already-mentioned Antonio Ferreira; the prose plays of Jorge Ferreira de
Vasconcellos, which bear some resemblance to the Spanish _Celestina_,
are valuable as pictures of contemporary manners in city and court.[75]

The later Portuguese dramatic literature seems also to have passed
through phases corresponding to those of the Spanish, though with
special features of its own. In the 18th century Alcino Mycenio
(1728-1770), known as Domingos dos Reis Quito in everyday life, in which
his avocation was that of Allan Ramsay, was remarkably successful with a
series of plays,[76] including of course an _Inez de Castro_, which in a
subsequent adaptation by J. B. Gomes long held the national stage.
Another dramatist, of both merit and higher aspirations, was Lycidas
Cynthio (_alias_ Manoel de Figueiredo, 1725-1801).[77] But the romantic
movement was very late in coming to Portugal. Curiously enough, one of
its chief representatives, the viscount da Almeida Garrett, exhibited
his sympathy with French, revolutionary and anti-English ideas by a
tragedy on the subject of Cato;[78] but his later works were mainly on
national subjects.[79] The expansive tendencies of later Portuguese
dramatic literature are illustrated by the translations of A. F. de
Castilho, who even ventured upon Goethe's _Faust_ (1872). Among
19th-century dramatists are to be noted Pereira da Cunha, R. Cordeiro,
E. Biester, L. Palmeirin, and Garrett's disciple F. G. de Amorim, by
whom both political and social themes have been freely treated. The
reaction against romanticism observable in Portuguese poetic literature
can hardly fail to affect (or perhaps has already affected) the growth
of the national drama; for the receptive qualities of both are not less
striking than the productive.


(e) _France._

  The French regular drama.

France was the only country, besides Italy, in which classical tragedy
was naturalized. In 1531 the Benedictine Barthélemy of Loches printed a
_Christus Xylonicus_; and a very notable impulse was given both to the
translation and to the imitation of ancient models by a series of
efforts made in the university of Paris and other French places of
learning. The most successful of these attempts was the _Johannes
Baptistes_ of George Buchanan, who taught in Paris for five years and at
a rather later date resided at Bordeaux, where in 1540 he composed this
celebrated tragedy (afterwards translated into four or five modern
languages), in which it is now ascertained that he had in view the trial
and condemnation of Sir Thomas More. He also wrote _Jephthah_, and
translated into Latin the _Medea_ and _Alcestis_ of Euripides. At a
rather later date the great scholar M. A. Muret (Muretus) produced his
_Julius Caesar_, a work perhaps superior in correctness to Buchanan's
tragic masterpiece, but inferior to it in likeness to life. About the
same time the enthusiasm of the Paris classicists showed itself in
several translations of Sophoclean and Euripidean tragedies into French
verse.[80]


  Jodelle.

Thus the beginnings of the regular drama in France, which, without
absolutely determining, potently swayed its entire course, came to
connect themselves directly with the great literary movement of the
Renaissance. Du Bellay sounded the note of attack which converted that
movement in France into an endeavour to transform the national
literature; and in Ronsard the classical school of poetry put forward
its conquering hero and sovereign lawgiver. Among the disciples who
gathered round Ronsard, and with him formed the "Pleiad" of French
literature, Étienne Jodelle, the reformer of the French theatre, soon
held a distinguished place. The stage of this period left ample room for
the enterprise of this youthful writer. The popularity of the old
entertainments had reached its height when Louis XII., in his conflict
with Pope Julius II., had not scrupled to call in the aid of Pierre
Gringoire (Gringon), and when the _Mère sotte_ had mockingly masqueraded
in the petticoats of Holy Church. In the reign of Francis I. the
Inquisition, and on occasion the king himself, had to some extent
succeeded in repressing the audacity of the actors, whose follies were
at the same time an utter abomination in the eyes of the Huguenots. For
a time the very mysteries of the Brethren of the Passion had been
prohibited; while the moralities and farces had sunk to an almost
contemptible level. Yet to this reign belong the contributions to
farce-literature of three writers so distinguished as Rabelais
(non-extant), Clément Marot and Queen Margaret of Navarre. Meanwhile
isolated translations of Italian[81] as well as classical dramas had in
literature begun the movement which Jodelle now transferred to the stage
itself. His tragedy _Cléopatre captive_ was produced there on the same
day as his comedy _L'Eugène_, in 1552, his _Didon se sacrifiant_
following in 1558. Thus at a time when a national theatre was perhaps
impossible in a country distracted by civil and religious conflicts,
whose monarchy had not yet welded together a number of provinces
attached each to its own traditions, and whose population, especially in
the capital, was enervated by frivolity or enslaved by fanaticism, was
born that long-lived artificial growth, the so-called classical tragedy
of France. For French comedy, though subjected to the same influences as
tragedy, had a national basis upon which to proceed, and its history is
partly that of a modification of old popular forms.


  French tragedy in the 16th century.

The history of French tragedy begins with the _Cléopâtre captive_, in
the representation of which the author, together with other members of
the "Pleiad," took part. It is a tragedy in the manner of Seneca, devoid
of action and provided with a ghost and a chorus. Though mainly written
in the five-foot Iambic couplet, it already contains passages in the
Alexandrine metre, which soon afterwards J. de La Péruse by his _Médée_
(pr. 1556) established in French tragedy, and which Jodelle employed in
his _Didon_. Numerous tragedies followed in the same style by various
authors, among whom Gabriel Bounyn produced the first French regular
tragedy on a subject neither Greek nor Roman,[82] and the brothers de la
Taille,[83] and J. Grévin,[84] distinguished themselves by their style.
In the reign of Charles IX. a vain attempt was made by Nicolas Filleul
to introduce the pastoral style of the Italians into French tragedy;[85]
and the Brotherhood of the Passion was intermingling with pastoral plays
its still continued reproductions of the old entertainments, and the
religious drama making its expiring efforts, among which T. Le Coq's
interesting mystery of _Cain_ (1580) should be noted. Beza's _Abraham
sacrifiant_ (1550), J. de Coignac's _Goliath_ (dedicated to Edward VI.),
Rivandeau's _Haman_ (1561), belong to a group of Biblical tragedies,
inspired by Calvinist influences. But these more and more approached to
the examples of the classical school, which, in spite of all
difficulties and rivalries, prevailed. Among its followers Montchrétien
exhibited unusual vigour of rhetoric,[86] and in R. Garnier French
tragedy reached the greatest height in nobility and dignity of style, as
well as in the exhibition of dramatic passion, to which it attained
before Corneille. In his tragedies[87] choruses are still interspersed
among the long Alexandrine tirades of the dialogue.


  Comedy under Italian influence.

During this period comedy had likewise been influenced by classical
models; but the distance was less between the national farces and
Terence, than between the mysteries and moralities, and Seneca and the
Greeks. _L'Eugène_ differs little in style from the more elaborate of
the old farces; and while it satirizes the foibles of the clergy without
any appreciable abatement of the old licence, its theme is the favourite
burden of the French comic theatre in all times--_le cocuage_. The
examples, however, which directly facilitated the productivity of the
French comic dramatists of this period, among whom Jean de la Taille was
the first to attempt a regular comedy in prose,[88] were those of the
Italian stage, which in 1576 established a permanent colony in France,
destined to survive there till the close of the 17th century, by which
time it had adopted the French language, and was ready to coalesce with
French actors, without, however, relinquishing all remembrance of its
origin. R. Belleau, a member of the "Pleiad," produced a comedy in which
the type (already approached by Jodelle) of the swaggering captain
appears,[89] J. Grévin copied Italian intrigue, characters and
manners;[90] O. de Turnèbe (d. 1581) borrowed the title of one Italian
play[91] and perhaps parts of the plots of others; the Florentine F.
d'Amboise (d. 1558) produced versions of two Italian comedies;[92] and
the foremost French comic poet of the century, P. de Larivey, likewise
an Italian born (of the name of Pietro Giunto), openly professed to
imitate the poets of his native country. His plays are more or less
literal translations of L. Dolce,[93] Secchi[94] and other Italian
dramatists; and this lively and witty author, to whom Molière owes much,
thus connects two of the most important and successful growths of the
modern comic drama.

The close conjunction between the history of a living dramatic
literature and that of the theatre can least of all be ignored in the
case of France, where the actor's art has gone through so ample an
evolution, and where the theatre has so long and continuously formed an
important part of the national life. By the middle of the 16th century
not only had theatrical representations, now quite emancipated from
clerical control, here and there already become matters of speculation
and business, but the acting profession was beginning to organize itself
as such; strolling companies of actors had become a more or less
frequent experience; and the attitude of the church and of civic
respectability were once more coming to be systematically hostile to the
stage and its representatives.


  French tragedy and comedy in the 17th century before Corneille.

Before, however, either tragedy or comedy in France entered into the
period of their history when genius was to illuminate both of them with
creations of undying merit, and before the theatre had associated itself
enduringly with the artistic and literary divisions of court and society
and the people at large, the country had passed through a new phase of
the national life. When the troubles and terrors of the great civil and
religious wars of the 16th century were over at last, they were found to
have produced a reaction towards culture and refinement which spread
from certain spheres of society whose influence was for a time
prevailing. The seal had been set upon the results of the Renaissance by
Malherbe, the father of French style. The masses meanwhile continued to
solace or distract their weariness and their sufferings with the help of
the accredited ministers of that half-cynical gaiety which has always
lighted up the darkest hours of French popular life. In the troublous
days preceding Richelieu's definitive accession to power (1624), the
_tabarinades_--a kind of street dialogue recalling the earliest days of
the popular drama--had made the Pont-Neuf the favourite theatre of the
Parisian populace. Meanwhile the influence of Spain, which Henry IV. had
overcome in politics, had throughout his reign and afterwards been
predominant in other spheres, and not the least in that of literature.
The _stilo culto_, of which Gongora was the native Spanish, Marino the
Italian, and Lyly the English representative, asserted its dominion over
the favourite authors of French society; the pastoral romance of Honoré
d'Urfé--the text-book of pseudo-pastoral gallantry--was the parent of
the romances of the Scudérys, de La Calprenède and Mme de La Fayette;
the Hôtel de Rambouillet was in its glory; the true (not the false)
_précieuses_ sat on the heights of intellectual society; and J. L. G. de
Balzac (ridiculed in the earliest French dramatic parody)[95] and
Voiture were the dictators of its literature. Much of the French drama
of this age is of the same kind as its romance-literature, like which it
fell under the polite castigation of Boileau's satire. Heroic love
(quite a technical passion), "fertile in tender sentiments," seized hold
of the theatre as well as of the romances; and La Calprenède, G. de
Scudéry[96] and his sister and others were equally fashionable in both
species. The Gascon Cyrano de Bergerac, though not altogether
insignificant as a dramatist,[97] gained his chief literary reputation
by a Rabelaisian fiction. Meanwhile, Spanish and Italian models
continued to influence both branches of the drama. Everybody knew by
heart Gongora's version of the story of "young Pyramus and his love
Thisbe," as dramatized by Th. Viaud (1590-1626); and the sentiment of
Tristan[98] (1601-1655) overpowered Herod on the stage, and drew tears
from Cardinal Richelieu in the audience. J. Mairet was noted for
superior vigour.[99] P. Du Ryer's style is described as, while otherwise
superior to that of his contemporaries, Italian in its defects. A
mixture of the forms of classical comedy with elements of Spanish and of
the Italian pastoral was attempted with great temporary success by A.
Hardy, a playwright who thanked Heaven that he knew the precepts of his
art while preferring to follow the demands of his trade. The mixture of
styles begun by him was carried on by the marquis de Racan,[100] J. de
Rotrou and others; and among these comedies of intrigue in the Spanish
manner the earliest efforts of Corneille himself[101] are to be classed.
Rotrou's noteworthier productions[102] are later in date than the event
which marks an epoch in the history of the French drama, the appearance
of Corneille's _Cid_ (1636).


  Corneille.

P. Corneille is justly revered as the first, and in some respects the
unequalled, great master of French tragedy, whatever may have been
unsound in his theories, or defective in his practice. The attempts of
his predecessors had been without life, because they lacked really
tragic characters and the play of really tragic passions; while their
style had been either pedantically imitative or a medley of plagiarisms.
He conquered tragedy at once for the national theatre and for the
national literature--and this, not by a long tentative process of
production, but by a few masterpieces, which may be held to be
comprehended within the ten years 1636 to 1646; for in his many later
tragedies he never again proved fully equal to himself. The French
tragedy, of which the great age begins with the _Cid_, _Horace_,
_Cinna_, _Polyeucte_ and _Rodogune_, was not, whatever it professed to
be, a copy of the classical tragedy of Greeks or Romans, or an imitation
of the Italian imitations of these; nor, though in his later tragedies
Corneille depended less and less upon characters, and more and more,
after the fashion of the Spaniards, upon situations, and even upon
spectacle, were the forms of the Spanish drama able to assert their
dominion over the French tragic stage. The mould of French tragedy was
cast by Corneille; but the creative power of his genius was unable to
fill it with more than a few examples. His range of passions and
characters was limited; he preferred, he said, the reproach of having
made his women too heroic to that of having made his men effeminate. His
actions inclined too much to the exhibition of conflicts political
rather than broadly ethical in their significance. The defects of his
style are of less moment; but in this, as in other respects, he was,
with all his strength and brilliancy, not one of those rarest of artists
who are at the same time the example and the despair of their
successors. The _examens_ which he printed of all his plays up to 1660
show how much self-criticism (though it may not always be as in this
case conscious) contributes to the true fertility of genius.

In comedy also Corneille begins the first great original epoch of French
dramatic literature; for it was to him that Molière owed the inspiration
of the tone and style which he made those of the higher forms of French
comedy. But _Le Menteur_ (the parent, with its sequel, of a numerous
dramatic progeny[103]) was itself derived from a Spanish original,[104]
which it did not (as was the case with the _Cid_) transform into
something new. French tragi-comedy Corneille can hardly be said to have
invented;[105] and of the mongrel growths of sentimental comedy and of
domestic drama or _drame_, he rather suggested than exemplified the
conditions.


  Racine.

The tragic art of Racine supplements rather than surpasses that of his
older contemporary. His works reflect the serene and settled formality
of an age in which the sun of monarchy shone with an effulgence no
clouds seemed capable of obscuring, and in which the life of a nation
seemed reducible to the surroundings of a court. The tone of the poetic
literature of such an age is not necessarily unreal, because the range
of its ideas is limited, and because its forms seem to exist by an
immutable authority. That Racine should permanently hold the position
which belongs to him in French dramatic literature is due to the fact
that to him it was given to present these forms--the forms approved by
his age--in what may reasonably be called perfection; and, from the
point of view of workmanship, Sophocles could not have achieved more.
What his plays contain is another question. They suit themselves so well
to the successive phases in the life of Louis XIV., that Madame de
Sévigné described Racine as having in his later years loved God as he
had formerly loved his mistresses; and this sally at all events
indicates the range of passions which inspired his tragic muse. His
heroes are all of one type--that of a gracious gloriousness; his
heroines vary in their fortunes, but they are all the "trophies of
love,"[106] with the exception of the scriptural figures, which stand
apart from the rest.[107] T. Corneille, Campistron, Joseph Duché
(1668-1704), Antoin de Lafosse (c. 1653-1708) and Quinault were mere
followers of one or both of the great masters of tragedy, though the
last named achieved a reputation of his own in the bastard species of
the opera.


  Characteristics of French classical tragedy.

The type of French tragedy thus established, like everything else which
formed part of the "age of Louis XIV.," proclaimed itself as the
definitively settled model of its kind, and was accepted as such by a
submissive world. Proud of its self-imposed fetters, French tragedy
dictatorially denied the liberty of which it had deprived itself to the
art of which it claimed to furnish the highest examples. Yet, though
calling itself classical, it had not caught the essential spirit of the
tragedy of the Greeks. The elevation of tone which characterizes the
serious drama of the age of Louis XIV. is a true elevation, but its
heights do not lose themselves in a sphere peopled by the myths of a
national religion, still less in the region of great thoughts which ask
Heaven to stoop to the aspirations and the failures of man. The
personages of this drama are conventional like its themes, but the
convention is with itself only; Orestes and Iphigenia have not brought
with them the cries of the stern goddesses and the flame on the altar of
Artemis; their passions like their speech are cadenced by a modern
measure. In construction, the simplicity and regularity of the ancient
models are stereotyped into a rigid etiquette by the exigencies of the
court-theatre, which is but an apartment of the palace. The unities of
time and place, with the Greeks mere rules of convenience, French
tragedy imposes upon itself as a permanent yoke. The Euripidean prologue
is judiciously exchanged for the exposition of the first act, and the
lyrical element essential to Greek tragedy is easily suppressed in its
would-be copy; lyrical passages still occur in some of Corneille's early
masterpieces,[108] but the chorus is consistently banished, to reappear
only in Racine's latest works[109] as a scholastic experiment
appropriate to a conventual atmosphere. Its uses for explanation and
comment are served by the expedient, which in its turn becomes
conventional, of the conversations with _confidants_ and _confidantes_,
which more than sufficiently supply the foil of general sentiments. The
epical element is allowed full play in narrative passages, more
especially in those which relate parts of the catastrophe,[110] and,
while preserving the stage intact from realisms, suit themselves to the
generally rhetorical character of this species of the tragic drama. This
character impressed itself more and more upon the tragic art of a
rhetorical nation in an age when the loftiest themes were in the pulpit
receiving the most artistic oratorical treatment, and developed in the
style of French classical tragedy the qualities which cause it to become
something between prose and poetry--or to appear (in the phrase of a
French critic) like prose in full dress. The force of this description
is borne out by the fact that the distinction between the versification
of French tragedy and that of French comedy seems at times
imperceptible.


  Voltaire.

The universal genius of Voltaire found it necessary to shine in all
branches of literature, and in tragedy to surpass predecessors whom his
own authority declared to have surpassed the efforts of the Attic muse.
He succeeded in impressing the world with the belief that his
innovations had imparted a fresh vitality to French tragedy; in truth,
however, they represent no essential advance in art, but rather
augmented the rhetorical tendency which paralyses true dramatic life.
Such life as his plays possess lies in their political and social
sentiments, their invective against tyranny,[111] and their exposure of
fanaticism.[112] In other respects his versatility was barren of
enduring results. He might take his themes from French history,[113] or
from Chinese,[114] or Egyptian,[115] or Syrian,[116] from the days of
the Epigoni[117] or from those of the Crusades;[118] he might appreciate
Shakespeare, with a more or less partial comprehension of his strength,
and condescendingly borrow from and improve the barbarian.[119] But he
added nothing to French tragedy where it was weakest--in character; and
where it was strongest--in diction--he never equalled Corneille in fire
or Racine in refinement. While the criticism to which French tragedy in
this age at last began to be subjected has left unimpaired the real
titles to immortality of its great masters, the French theatre itself
has all but buried in respectful oblivion the dramatic works bearing the
name of Voltaire--a name persistently belittled, but second to none in
the history of modern progress and of modern civilization.


  French classical tragedy in its decline.

As it is of relatively little interest to note the ramifications of an
art in its decline, the contrasts need not be pursued among the
contemporaries of Voltaire, between his imitator Bernard Joseph Saurin
(1706-1781), Saurin's royalist rival de Belloy, Racine's imitator
Lagrange-Chancel and Voltaire's own would-be rival, the "terrible"
Crébillon the elder, who professed to vindicate to French tragedy,
already mistress of the heavens through Corneille, and of the earth
through Racine, Pluto's supplementary realm, but who, though thus
essaying to carry tragedy lower, failed to carry it farther. In the
latter part of the 18th century French classical tragedy as a literary
growth was dying a slow death, however numerous might be the leaves
which sprouted from the decaying tree. Its form had been permanently
fixed; and even Shakespeare, as manipulated by Ducis[120]--an author
whose tastes were better than his times--failed to bring about a change.
"It is a Moor, not a Frenchman, who has written this play," cried a
spectator of Ducis' _Othello_ (1791); but Talma's conviction was almost
as strong as his capacity was great for convincing his public; and he
certainly did much to prepare the influence which Shakespeare was
gradually to assert over the French drama, and which was aided by
translations, more especially that of Pierre Letourneur (1736-1788),
which had attracted the sympathy of Diderot and the execrations of the
aged Voltaire.[121] Meanwhile, the command which classical French
tragedy continued to assert over the stage was due in part, no doubt, to
the love of Roman drapery--not always abundant, but always in the grand
style--which characterized the Revolution, and which was by the
Revolution handed down to the Empire. It was likewise, and more
signally, due to the great actors who freed the tragic stage from much
of its artificiality and animated it by their genius. No great artist
has ever more generously estimated the labours of a predecessor than
Talma judged those of Le Kain; but it was Talma himself whose genius was
pre-eminently fitted to reproduce the great figures of antiquity in the
mimic world, which, like the world outside, both required and possessed
its Caesar. He, like Rachel after him, reconciled French classical
tragedy with nature; and it is upon the art of great original actors
such as these that the theatrical future of this form of the drama in
France depends. Mere whims of fashion--even when inspired by political
feeling--will not waft back to it a real popularity; nor will occasional
literary aftergrowths, however meritorious, such as the admirable
_Lucrèce_ of F. Ponsard and the attempts of even more recent writers,
suffice to re-establish a living union between it and the progress of
the national literature.


  Comedy.

  Molière.

The rival influences under which classical tragedy has after a long
struggle virtually become a thing of the past in French literature are
also to be traced in the history of French comedy, which under the
co-operation of other influences produced a wide variety of growths. The
germs of most of these--though not of all--are to be found in the works
of the most versatile, the most sure-footed, and, in some respects, the
most consummate master of the comic drama whom the world has
known--Molière. What Molière found in existence was a comedy of
intrigue, derived from Spanish or Italian examples, and the elements of
a comedy of character, in French and more especially in Italian farce
and ballet-pantomime. Corneille's _Menteur_ had pointed the way to a
fuller combination of character with intrigue, and in this direction
Molière's genius exercised the height of its creative powers. After
beginning with farces, he produced in the earliest of his plays (from
1652), of which more than fragments remain, comedies of intrigue which
are at the same time marvellously lively pictures of manners, and then
proceeded, with the _École des maris_ (1661), to begin a long series of
masterpieces of comedy of character. Yet even these, the chief of which
are altogether unrivalled in dramatic literature, do not exhaust the
variety of his productions. To define the range of his art is as
difficult as to express in words the essence of his genius. For though
he has been copied ever since he wrote, neither his spirit nor his
manner has descended in full to any of his copyists, whole schools of
whom have missed elements of both. A Molière can only be judged in his
relations to the history of comedy at large. He was indeed the inheritor
of many forms and styles--remaining a stranger to those of Old Attic
comedy only, rooted as it was in the political life of a free imperial
city; though even the rich extravagances of Aristophanes' burlesque was
not left wholly unreproduced by him. Molière is both a satirist and a
humorist; he displays at times the sentiments of a loyal courtier, at
others that gay spirit of opposition which is all but indispensable to a
popular French wit. His comedies offer elaborate and subtle--even
tender--pictures of human character in its eternal types, lively
sketches of social follies and literary extravagances, and broad appeals
to the ordinary sources of vulgar merriment. Light and perspicuous in
construction, he is master of the delicate play of irony, the
penetrating force of wit, and the expansive gaiety of frolicsome fun.
Faithful to the canons of artistic taste, and under the sure guidance of
true natural humour, his style suits itself to every species attempted
by him. His morality is the reverse of rigid, but its aberrations are
not those of prurience, nor its laws those of pretence; and, wholly free
as he was from the didactic aim which is foreign to all true dramatic
representation, the services rendered by him to his art are not the less
services rendered to society, concerning which the laughter of genuine
comedy tells the truth. He raised the comedy of character out of the
lower sphere of caricature, and in his greatest creations subordinated
to the highest ends of all dramatic composition the plots he so
skilfully built, and the pictures of the manners he so faithfully
reproduced.


  Molière's contemporaries and successors.

Even among the French comic dramatists of this age there must have been
many who "were not aware" that Molière was its greatest poet. For though
he had made the true path luminous to them, their efforts were still
often of a tentative kind, and one was reviving _Pathelin_ while another
was translating the _Andria_. A more unique attempt was made in one of
the very few really modern versions of an Aristophanic comedy, which
deserves to be called an original copy--the _Plaideurs_ of Racine. The
tragic poets Quinault and Campistron likewise wrote comedies, one[122]
or more of which furnished materials to contemporary English
dramatists, as did one of the felicitous plays in which Boursault
introduced Mercury and Aesop into the theatrical _salon_.[123] Antoine
Montfleury (1640-1685), Baron and Dancourt, who were actors like
Molière, likewise wrote comedies. But if the mantle of Molière can be
said to have fallen upon any of his contemporaries or successors, this
honour must be ascribed to J. F. Regnard, who imitated the great master
in both themes and characters,[124] while the skilfulness of his plots,
and his gaiety of the treatment even of subjects tempting into the
by-path of sentimental comedy,[125] entitle him to be regarded as a
comic poet of original genius. With him C. R. Dufresny occasionally
collaborated.

In the next generation (that of Voltaire) comedy gradually--but only
gradually--surrendered for a time the very essence of its vitality to
the seductions of a hybrid species, which disguised its identity under
more than a single name. A. R. le Sage, who as a comic dramatist at
first followed successfully in the footsteps of Molière, proved himself
on the stage as well as in picturesque fiction a keen observer and
inimitable satirist of human life.[126] The light texture of the playful
and elegant art of J. B. L. Gresset was shown on the stage in a
character comedy of merit;[127] and in a comedy which reveals something
of his pointed wit, A. Piron produced something like a new type of
enduring ridiculousness.[128] P. C. de Marivaux, the French _Spectator_,
is usually supposed to have formed the connecting link between the "old"
French comedy and the "new" and bastard variety. Yet, though his minute
analysis of the tender passion excited the scorn of Voltaire, it should
not be overlooked that in _marivaudage_ proper the wit holds the balance
to the sentiment, and that in some of this frequently misjudged writer's
earlier and most delightful plays the elegance and gaiety of diction are
as irresistible as the pathetic sentiment, which is in fact rather an
ingredient in his comedy than the pervading characteristic of it.[129]
Some of the comedies of P. H. Destouches no doubt have a serious basis,
and in his later plays he comes near to a kind of drama in which the
comic purpose has been virtually submerged.[130] The writer who is
actually to be credited with the transition to sentimental comedy, and
who was fully conscious of the change which he was helping to effect,
was Nivelle de La Chaussée, in whose hands French comedy became a
champion of the sanctity of marriage, and reproduced the sentiments--in
one instance even the characters--of Richardson.[131] To his play _La
Fausse Antipathie_ the author supplied a _critique_, amounting to an
apology for the new species of which it was designed as an example.

The new species known as _comédie larmoyante_ was now fairly in the
ascendant; and it would be easy to show how even Voltaire, who had
deprecated the innovation, had to yield to a power greater than his own,
and introduced the sentimental element into some of his comedies.[132]
The further step, by which _comédie larmoyante_ was transformed into
_tragédie bourgeoise_, from which the comic element was to all intents
and purposes extruded, was taken by a great French writer, D. Diderot;
to whose influence it was largely due that the species which had
attained to this consummation for more than a generation ruled supreme
in the dramatic literature of Europe. But the final impulse, as Diderot
himself virtually acknowledged in the _entretiens_ subjoined by him to
his _Fils naturel_ (1757), had been given by a far humbler citizen of
the world of letters, the author of _The London Merchant_. Diderot's own
plays were a literary rather than a theatrical success. _Le Fils naturel
ou les épreuves de la vertu_ was not publicly performed till 1771, and
then only in deference to the determination of a single actor of the
Français (Molé); nor was the performance of it repeated. Diderot's
second play, _Le Père de famille_, printed in 1758 with a _Discours sur
la poésie dramatique_, went through a few public performances in 1761;
and a later revival was unsuccessful. But "at a distance," as was well
said, the effect of Diderot's endeavours, the earlier in particular, was
extremely great, and Lessing, though very critical as to particular
points, greatly helped to spread it. Diderot had for the first time
consciously sought to proclaim the theatre an agency of social reform,
and to entrust to it as its task the propagation of the gospel of
philanthropy. Though the execution of his dramatic works fell far short
of his aims; though Madame de Staël was not far wrong in denouncing them
as exhibiting not nature itself, but "the affectation of nature," yet
they contained, in a measure almost unequalled in the history of the
modern drama, the fermenting element which never seems to subside. Their
author announced them as examples of a third dramatic form--the _genre
sérieux_--which he declared to be the consummation of the dramatic art.
Making war upon the frigid artificiality of classical tragedy, he
banished verse from the new species. The effect of these plays was
intended to spring from their truth to nature--a truth such as no
spectator could mistake, and which should bring home its moral teachings
to the business as well as the bosoms of all. The theatre was to become
a real and realistic school of the principles of society and of the
conduct of life--it was, in other words, to usurp functions with which
it has no concern, and to essay the direct reformation of mankind. The
idea was neither new nor just; but its speciousness will probably
continue to commend it to many enthusiastic minds, whensoever and in
whatsoever shape it is revived.


  The comedy of the Revolution and the first empire.

  Vaudevilles, etc.

From this point the history of the French drama becomes that of a
conflict between an enfeebled artistic school and a tendency which is
hardly to be dignified by the name of a school at all. Among the
successful dramatists following on Diderot may be mentioned the critical
and versatile J. F. Marmontel, and more especially M. J. Sedaine, who
though chiefly working for the opera, produced two comedies of
acknowledged merit.[133] P. A. C. de Beaumarchais (1732-1799), who for
his early sentimental plays,[134] in which he imitated Diderot, invented
the appellation _drame_--so convenient in its vagueness that it became
the accepted name of the hybrid species to which they belonged--in two
works of a very different kind, the famous _Barbier de Séville_ and the
still more famous _Mariage de Figaro_, boldly carried comedy back into
its old Spanish atmosphere of intrigue; but, while surpassing all his
predecessors in the skill with which he constructed his frivolous plots,
he drew his characters with a lightness and sureness of touch peculiar
to himself, animated his dialogue with an unparalleled brilliancy of
wit, and seasoned action as well as dialogue with a political and social
meaning, which caused his epigrams to become proverbs, and which marks
his _Figaro_ as a herald of the Revolution. Such plays as these were ill
suited to the rule of the despot whose vigilance could not overlook
their significance. The comedy of the empire is, in the hands of Collin
d'Harleville, Louis Picard (1769-1828), A. Duval, Étienne and others,
mainly a harmless comedy of manners; nor was the attempted innovation of
N. Lemercier--who was fain to invent a new species, that of historical
comedy--more than a flattering self-delusion. The theatre had its share
in all the movements and changes which ensued in France; though the most
important revolution which the drama itself was to undergo was not one
of wholly native origin. Those branches of the drama which belong
specifically to the history of the opera, or which associate themselves
with it, are here passed by. Among them was the _vaudeville_ (from Val
de Vire in Calvados), which began as an interspersion of pantomime with
the airs of popular songs, and which, after the Italian masks had been
removed from it, was cultivated by Ponsard and Marmontel, while Sedaine
wrote a didactic poem on the subject (1756). Sedaine was the father of
the _opéra-comique_ proper;[135] Marmontel,[136] as well as
Rousseau,[137] likewise composed _opérettes_--a smaller sort of opera,
at first of the pastoral variety; and these flexible species easily
entered into combination. The melodrama proper, of which the invention
is also attributed to Rousseau,[138] in its latter development became
merely a drama accentuated by music, though usually in little need of
any accentuation.


  The stage.

  Transition to the romantic school.

The chief home of the regular drama, however, demanded efforts of
another kind. At the Théâtre Français, or Comédie Française, whose
history as that of a single company of actors had begun in 1680, the
party-strife of the times made itself audible; and the most prominent
tragic poet of the Revolution, M. J. de Chénier, a disciple of Voltaire
in dramatic poetry as well as in political philosophy, wrote for the
national stage the historical drama--with a political moral[139]--in
which in the memorable year 1789 the actor Talma achieved his first
complete triumph. But the victorious Revolution proclaimed among other
liberties that of the theatres in Paris, of which soon not less than 50
were open. In 1807 the empire restricted the number to 9, and reinstated
the Théâtre Français in sole possession (or nearly such) of the right of
performing the classic drama. No writer of note was, however, tempted or
inspired by the rewards and other encouragements offered by Napoleon to
produce such a classic tragedy as the emperor would have willingly
stamped from out of the earth. The tragedies of C. Delavigne represent
the transition from the expiring efforts of the classical to the
ambitious beginnings of the romantic school of the French drama.


  The romantic school.

Of modern romantic drama in France it must suffice to say that it
derives some of its characteristics from the general movement of
romanticism which in various ways and at various points of time
transformed nearly every modern European literature, others from the
rhetorical tendency which is a French national feature. Victor Hugo was
the founder whom it followed in a spirit of high emprise to success upon
success, his own being the most conspicuous of all;[140] A. Dumas the
elder its unshrinking middleman. The marvellous fire and grandeur of
genius of the former, always in extremes but often most sublime at the
height of danger, was nowhere more signally such than in the drama;
Dumas was a Briareus, working, however, with many hands besides his own.
Together with them may, with more or less precision, be classed in the
romantic school of dramatists A. de Vigny[141] and George Sand,[142]
neither of whom, however, attained to the highest rank in the drama, and
Jules Sandeau;[143] A. de Musset, whose originality pervades all his
plays, but whose later works, more especially in his prose "proverbs"
and pieces of a similar kind, have a flavour of a delicacy altogether
indescribable;[144] perhaps also P. Mérimée (1803-1870), who invented
not only Spanish dramas but a Spanish dramatist, and who was never more
audacious than when he seemed most _naïf_.[145]


  Modern schools.

The romantic school was not destined to exercise a permanent control
over French public taste; but it can hardly be said to have been
overthrown by the brief classical revival begun by F. Ponsard, and
continued, though in closer contact with modern ideas, both by him[146]
and by E. Augier, a dramatist who gradually attained to an extraordinary
effectiveness in the self-restrained treatment of social as well as of
historical themes.[147] While the theatrical fecundity and the
remarkable constructive ability of E. Scribe[148] supplied a long series
of productions attesting the rapid growth of the playwright's mastery
over the secrets of his craft the name of his competitors is legion.
Among them may be mentioned, if only as the authors of two of the most
successful plays of the historical species produced in the century, two
writers of great eminence--C. Delavigne[149] and E. Legouvé.[150] Later
developments of the drama bore the impress of a period of social decay,
prepared to probe its own sufferings, while glad at times to take refuge
in the gaiety traditional in France in her more light-hearted days, but
which even then had not yet deserted either French social life or the
theatre which reflected it. After a fashion which would have startled
even Diderot, while recalling his efforts in the earnestness of its
endeavour to arouse moral interests to which the theatre had long been a
stranger, A. Dumas the younger set himself to reform society by means of
the stage.[151] But the technical skill which he and contemporary
dramatists displayed in the execution of their self-imposed task was
such as had been undreamt of by Diderot. O. Feuillet, more eminent as a
novelist than on the stage, applied himself, though with the aid of
fewer prefaces, to the solution of the same or similar problems; while
the extraordinary versatility of V. Sardou and his unfailing
constructive skill was applied by him to almost every kind of serious,
or serio-comic, drama--even the most solid of all.[152] In the same
period, while E. Pailleron revived some of the most characteristic
tendencies of the best French satirical comedy in ridiculing the pompous
pretentiousness of learning for its own sake,[153] the light-hearted
gaiety of E. Labiche changed into something not altogether similar in
the productions of the comic muse of L. Halévy and H. Meilhac, ranging
from the licence of the musical burlesque which was the congenial
delight of the later days of the Second Empire to a species of comedy in
which the ingredients of bitterness and even of sadness found a
place.[154]


  Tendencies of the drama and of the theatre in France.

Dramatic criticism in France has had a material share in the maintenance
of a deep as well as wide national interest in the preservation of a high
standard of excellence both in the performance of plays and in the plays
themselves. Among its modern representatives the foremost place would
probably be by common consent allowed to F. Sarcey, whose Monday
theatrical _feuilleton_ in the _Temps_ was long awaited week by week as
an oracle of dramaturgy. But he was only the first among equals, and the
successor and the predecessor of writers who have at least sought to be
equal to a function of real public importance. For it seems hardly within
the range of probability to suppose that the theatre will for many a
generation to come lose the hold which it has established over the
intellectual and moral sympathies of nearly the whole of the educated--to
say nothing of a great part of the half-educated--population of France.
This does not, of course, imply that the creative activity of French
dramatic literature is certain to endure. Since the great changes set in
which were consequent upon the disastrous war of 1870, French dramatic
literature has reflected more than one phase of national sentiment and
opinion, and has represented the aspirations, the sympathies and the
philosophy of life of more than one class in the community. Thus it has
had its episodes of reaction in the midst of an onward flow of which it
would be difficult to predict the end. The tendency of what can only
vaguely be described as the naturalistic school of writers has
corresponded to that even more prominent in the dramatic literatures of
certain other European nations; but it must be allowed that a new poetic
will have to be constructed if the freedom of development which the
dramatic, like all other arts, is entitled to claim is to be reconciled
to laws deducible from the whole previous history of the drama. The
reaction towards earlier forms has asserted itself in various
ways--through the poetic plays of the later years of F. Coppée; in the
success (notable for reasons other than artistic) of Vicomte H. de
Bornier's first tragedy; and of late more especially in the
dramas--highly original and truly romantic in both form and treatment--of
E. Rostand.

The art of acting is not altogether dependent upon the measure of
contemporary literary productivity, even in France, where the connexion
between dramatic literature and the stage has perhaps been more
continuously intimate than in many other countries. Talma and Mlle Mars
flourished in one of the most barren ages of the French literary drama;
and though this cannot be asserted of the two most brilliant stars of
the French 19th century tragic stage, Rachel and Sarah Bernhardt, or of
their comic contemporaries from Frédérick-Lemaître down to types less
unique than the "Talma of the boulevards," the constantly accumulating
experience of the successive schools of acting in France may here ensure
to the art a future not less notable than its past. Moreover, the French
theatre has long been, and is more than ever likely to continue, an
affair of the state as well as of the nation; and the judicious policy
of not leaving the chief theatres at the mercy of shifting fashion and
the base demands of idleness and sensuality will remain the surest
guarantee for the maintenance of a high standard both in principle and
in practice. So long as France continues to maintain her ascendancy over
other nations in matters of taste, and in much else that adorns,
brightens and quickens social life, the predominant influence of the
French theatre over the theatres of other nations is likewise assured.
But dramatic literature is becoming international to a degree hardly
dreamt of half a century ago; and the distinctive development of the
French theatre cannot fail to be affected by the success or failure of
the national drama in retaining and developing its own most
characteristic qualities. Its history shows periods of marvellously
rapid advance, of hardly less swift decline, and of frequent though at
times fitful recovery. Its future may be equally varied; but it will
remain not less dependent on the conditions which in every people,
ancient or modern, have proved to be indispensable to national vigour
and vitality.     (A. W. W.)

_Recent French Drama._--The last twenty-five years of the 19th century
witnessed an important change in the constructive methods, as well as in
the moral tendencies, of the French playwrights. Of the two leading
dramatists who reigned supreme over the _haute comédie_ in 1875, one,
Émile Augier, had almost ended his career, but the other, Alexandre
Dumas, was to maintain his ascendancy for many years longer. Sardou's
fertility of invention, and extraordinary cleverness at manipulating a
complicated intrigue, were also greatly admired, and much was expected
from Edouard Pailleron's brilliant and--as it seemed--inexhaustible wit
in satirizing the whims and weaknesses of high-born and highly-cultured
society. Alexandre Dumas had created and still monopolized the problem
play, of which _Le Demi-monde_, _Le Fils naturel_, _La Question
d'argent_, _Les Idées de Madame Aubray_, _La Femme de Claude_, _Monsieur
Alphonse_, _La Visite de noces_, _L'Étrangère_, _Francillon_ and
_Denise_ may be mentioned as the most characteristic specimens. The
problem play is the presentation of a particular case, with a view to a
general conclusion on some important question of human conduct. This
afforded the author, who was, in his way, a moralist and a reformer,
excellent opportunities for humorous discussions and the display of that
familiar eloquence which was his greatest gift and most effective
faculty. Among other subjects, the social position of women had an
all-powerful attraction for his mind, and many of his later plays were
written with the object of placing in strong relief the remarkable
inequality of the sexes, both as regards freedom of action and
responsibility, in modern marriage. Like all the dramatists of his time,
he adhered to Scribe's mode of play-writing--a mixture of the _drame
bourgeois_, as initiated by Diderot, and the comedy of character and
manners, long in vogue--from the days of Molière, Regnard, Destouches
and Marivaux, down to the beginning of the 19th century. In his prefaces
Dumas often undertook the defence of the system which, in his
estimation, was best calculated to serve the purpose of the artist, the
humorist and the moralist--a dramatist being, as he conceived, a
combination of the three.

Though the majority of French playgoers continued to side with him, and
to cling to the time-honoured theatrical beliefs, a few young men were
beginning to murmur against the too elaborate mechanism and artificial
logic. Scribe and his successors, whose plays were a combination of
comedy and drama, were wont to devote the first act to a brilliant and
witty presentation of personages, then to crowd the following scenes
with incidents, until the action was brought to a climax about the end
of the fourth act, invariably concluding, in the fifth, with an
optimistic _dénouement_, just before midnight, the time appointed by
police regulations for the closing of playhouses. At the same time a
more serious and far-reaching criticism was levelled at the very
principles on which the conception of human life was then dependent. A
new philosophy, based on scientific research, had been gradually gaining
ground and penetrating the French mind. A host of bold writers had been
trying, with considerable firmness and continuity of purpose, to start a
new kind of fiction, writing in perfect accordance with the determinist
theories of Auguste Comte, Darwin and Taine. The long-disputed success
of the Naturalistic School carried everything before it during the years
1875-1885, and its triumphant leaders were tempted to make the best of
their advantage by annexing a new province and establishing a footing on
the stage. In this they failed signally, either when they were assisted
by professional dramatists or when left to their own resources. It
became evident that Naturalism, to be made acceptable on the stage,
would have to undergo a special process of transformation and be handled
in a peculiar way. Henry Becque succeeded in embodying the new theories
in two plays, which at first met with very indifferent success, but were
revived at a later period, and finally obtained permanent recognition in
the French theatre--even with the acquiescence of the most learned
critics, when they discovered, or fancied they discovered, that Becque's
comedies agreed, in the main, with Molière's conception of dramatic art.
In _Les Corbeaux_ and _La Parisienne_ the plot is very simple; the
episodes are incidents taken from ordinary life. No extraneous character
is introduced to discuss moral and social theories, or to acquaint us
with the psychology of the real _dramatis personae_, or to suggest
humorous observations about the progress of the dramatic action. The
characters are left to tell their own tale in their own words, which are
sometimes very comical, sometimes very repulsive, but purport to be
always true to nature. Human will, which was the soul and mainspring of
French tragedy in the 17th century, and played such a paramount part in
the _drame bourgeois_ and the _haute comédie_ of the 19th, appears in M.
Becque's plays to have fallen from its former exalted position and to
have ceased to be a free agent. It is a mere passive instrument to our
inner desires and instincts and appetites, which, in their turn, obey
natural laws. Thus, in Becque's comedies, as in the old Greek drama,
destiny, not man, is the chief actor, the real but unseen protagonist.

Becque was not a prolific writer, and when he died, in 1899, it was
remarked that he had spent the last ten years of his life in comparative
inactivity. But during these years his young and ardent disciples had
spared no effort in putting their master's theories to the test. It had
occurred to a gifted and enterprising actor-manager, named André
Antoine, that the time had come for trying dramatic experiments in a
continued and methodical manner. For this purpose he gathered around him
a number of young authors, and produced their plays before a select
audience of subscribers, who had paid in advance for their
season-tickets. The entertainment was a strictly private one. In this
way Antoine made himself independent of the censors, and at the same
time was no longer obliged to consider the requirements of the average
playgoer, as is the case with ordinary managers, anxious, above all
things, to secure long runs. At the Théâtre Libre the most successful
play was not to be performed for more than three nights.

The reform attempted was to consist in the elimination of what was
contrary to nature in Dumas's and Augier's comedies: of the _intrigue
parallèle_ or underplot, of the over-numerous and improbable incidents
which followed the first act and taxed the spectator's memory to the
verge of fatigue; and, lastly, of the conventional _dénouement_ for
which there was no justification. A true study of character was to take
the place of Sardou's complicated fabrications and Dumas's problem
plays. The authors would present the spectator with a fragment of life,
but would force no conclusion upon him at the termination of the play.
The reformation in histrionic art was to proceed apace. The actors and
actresses of the preceding period had striven to give full effect to
certain witty utterances of the author, or to preserve and to develop
their own personal peculiarities or oddities. Antoine and his
fellow-artists did their best to make the public realize, in every word
and every gesture, the characteristic features and ruling passions of
the men and women they were supposed to represent.

It was in the early autumn of 1887 that the Théâtre Libre opened its
doors for the first time. It struggled on for eight years amidst
unfailing curiosity, but not without encountering some adverse, or even
derisive, criticism from a considerable portion of the public and the
press. The Théâtre Libre brought under public notice such men as George
Courteline and George Ancey, who gave respectively, in _Bonbouroche_ and
_La Dupe_, specimens of a comic vein called the "_comique cruel_."
Fabre, in _L'Argent_, approached if not surpassed his master, Henry
Becque. Brieux, in _Blanchette_, gave promise of talent, which he has
since in a great measure justified. In _Les Fossiles_ and _L'Envers
d'une sainte_, by François de Curel, were found evidences of dramatic
vigour and concentrated energy, allied with a remarkable gift for the
minute analysis of feeling. Antoine's activity was not exclusively
confined to the efforts of the French Naturalistic School; he included
the Norwegian drama in his programme, and successively produced several
of Ibsen's plays. They received a large amount of attention from the
critics, the views then expressed ranging from the wildest enthusiasm to
the bitterest irony. Francisque Sarcey was decidedly hostile, and Jules
Lemaître, who ranked next to him in authority, ventured to suggest that
Ibsen's ideas were nothing better than long-discarded social and
literary paradoxes, borrowed from Pierre Leroux through George Sand, and
returned to the French market as novelties. Ibsen was not understood by
the French public at large, though his influence could be clearly traced
on thoughtful men like Paul Hervieu and François de Curel.

The authors of the Théâtre Libre were sadly wanting in tact and
patience. They went at once to extremes, and, while trying to free
themselves from an obsolete form of drama, fell into a state of anarchy.
If a too elaborate plot is a fault, no plot at all is an absurdity. The
old school had been severely taken to task for devoting the first act to
the delineation of character, and the delineation of character was now
found to have extended over the whole play; and worse still, most of
these young men seemed to find pleasure in importing a low vocabulary on
to the stage; they made it their special object to place before the
spectator revolting pictures of the grossest immorality. In this they
were supported by a knot of noisy and unwise admirers, whose misplaced
approval largely contributed towards bringing an otherwise useful and
interesting undertaking into disrepute. The result was that after the
lapse of eight years the little group collected round Antoine had lost
in cohesion and spirit, that it was both less hopeful and less compact
than it had been at the outset of the campaign. But some authors who had
kept aloof from the movement were not slow in reaping the moral and
intellectual profit of these tentative experiments. Among them must be
cited George de Porto-Riche, Henri Lavedan, Paul Hervieu, Maurice Donnay
and Jules Lemaître. Alone among the authors of the Théâtre Libre, É.
Brieux secured an assured position on the regular stage. Instead of
attacking the vices and follies of his times, he has made a name by
satirizing the weak points or the wrong application of certain
fundamental principles by which modern institutions are supported. He
mocked at universal suffrage in _L'Engrenage_, at art in _Ménages
d'artistes_, at popular instruction in _Blanchette_, at charity in _Les
Bienfaiteurs_, at science in _L'Évasion_, and then at law in _La Robe
rouge_. Of _Les Trois Filles de M. Dupont_, one is an old maid with a
strong bent towards mysticism, another is a star in the demi-monde, and
the third is married. Neither religion, nor free love, nor marriage has
made one of the three happy. The strange fact about Brieux is that he
propounds his uncomfortable ideas with an incredible amount of dash and
spirit.

All the plays written by the above-mentioned authors, and by those who
follow in their steps, have been said to constitute the "new comedy."
But one may question the advisability of applying the same name to
literary works which present so little, if any, family likeness. It was
tacitly agreed to remove the intricacies of the plot and the forced
_dénouement_. But no one will trace in those plays the uniformity of
moral purpose which would justify us in comprising them under the same
head, as products of the same school. Then, before the Naturalistic, or
half-Naturalistic, School had attained to a practical result or taken a
definite shape, a wave of Romanticism swept over the French public, and
in a measure brought back the old artistic and literary dogmas
propounded by Victor Hugo and the generation of 1830. Signs of a revival
in French dramatic poetry were not lacking. The success of _La Fille de
Roland_, by the Vicomte de Bornier, was restricted to the more
cultivated classes, but the vogue of Jean Richepin's _Chemineau_ was at
once general and lasting. _Cyrano de Bergerac_, produced in the last
days of 1897, brought a world-wide reputation to its young author,
Edmond Rostand. This play combines sparkling wit and brilliancy of
imagination with delightful touches of pathos and delicate tenderness.
It was assumed that Rostand was endowed to an extraordinary degree both
with theatrical genius and the poetic faculty. _L'Aiglon_ fell short of
this too favourable judgment. It is more a dramatic poem than a real
drama, and the author handles history with the same childish
incompetence and inaccuracy as Hugo did in _Cromwell_, in _Ruy Blas_ and
_Hernani_. The persistent approbation of the public seemed, however, to
indicate a growing taste for poetry, even when unsupported by dramatic
interest--a curious symptom among the least poetical of modern European
races.

To sum up, the French, as regards the present condition of their drama,
were confronted with two alternative movements. Naturalism, furthered by
science and philosophy, was contending against traditions three
centuries old, and seemed unable to crystallize into masterly works;
while romantic drama, founded on vague and exploded theories, had become
embodied in productions of real artistic beauty, which have been warmly
welcomed by the general playgoer. It should nevertheless be noted that
in _Cyrano_ and _L'Aiglon_ human will, which was the main-spring of
Corneille's tragedy and Hugo's drama, tried to reassert itself, but was
baffled by circumstance, and had to submit to inexorable laws. This
showed that the victorious school would have to reckon with the
doctrines of the defeated party, and suggested that a determinist
theatre might be the ultimate outcome of a compromise. (A. FI.)


(f) _English Drama._

Among the nations of Germanic descent the English alone succeeded,
mainly through the influence of the Renaissance movement, in
transforming the later growths of the medieval drama into the beginnings
of a great and enduring national dramatic literature, second neither in
volume nor in splendour to any other in the records of the world. And,
although in England, as elsewhere, the preparatory process had been
continuing for some generations, its consummation coincided with one of
the greatest epochs of English national history, and indeed forms one of
the chief glories of that epoch itself; so that, in thinking or speaking
of the Elizabethan age and the Elizabethan drama, the one can scarcely
be thought or spoken of without the other.


  Beginnings of the regular drama.

It is of course conceivable that the regular drama, or drama proper,
might in England have been called into life without the direct influence
of classical examples. Already in the reign of Edward VI. the spirit of
the Reformation had (with the aid of a newly awakened desire for the
study of history, which was no doubt largely due to Italian examples)
quickened the relatively inanimate species of the morality into the
beginning of a new development.[155] But though the _Kyng Johan_ of Bale
(much as this author abhorred the chronicles as written by
ecclesiastics) came very near to the chronicle histories, there is no
proof whatever that the work, long hidden away for very good reasons,
actually served as a transition to the new species; and Bale's
production was entirely unknown to the particular chronicle history
which treated the same subject. Before the earliest example of this
transitional species was produced, English tragedy had directly
connected its beginnings with classical models.


  Imitation of classical examples.

Much in the same way, nothing could have been more natural and in
accordance with the previous sluggish evolution of the English drama
than that a gradual transition, however complete in the end, should have
been effected from the moralities to comedy. It was not, however, John
Heywood himself who was to accomplish any such transition; possibly, he
was himself the author of the morality _Genus humanum_ performed at the
coronation feast of Queen Mary, whose council speedily forbade the
performance of interludes without the queen's licence. Nor are we able
to conjecture the nature of the pieces bearing this name composed by
Richard Farrant, afterwards the master of the Children of St George's at
Windsor, or of William Hunnis, master under Queen Elizabeth of the
Children of the Chapel Royal. But the process of transition is visible
in productions, also called interludes, but charged with serious
purpose, such as T. Ingeland's noteworthy _Disobedient Child_ (before
1560), and plays in which the element of abstractions is perceptibly
yielding to that of real personages, or in which the characters are for
the most part historical or the main element in the action belongs to
the sphere of romantic narrative.[156] The demonstration would, however,
be alien to the purpose of indicating the main conditions of the growth
of the English drama. The immediate origin of the earliest extant
English comedy must, like that of the first English tragedy, be sought,
not in the development of any popular literary or theatrical
antecedents, but in the imitation, more or less direct, of classical
models. This cardinal fact, unmistakable though it is, has frequently
been ignored or obscured by writers intent upon investigating the
_origines_ of our drama, and to this day remains without adequate
acknowledgment in most of the literary histories accessible to the great
body of students.

It is true that in tracing the entrance of the drama into the national
literature there is no reason for seeking to distinguish very narrowly
between the several tributaries to the main stream which fertilized this
as well as other fields under Renaissance culture. The universities then
still remained, and for a time became more prominently than ever, the
leading agents of education in all its existent stages; and it is a
patent fact that no influence could have been so strong upon the
Elizabethan dramatists as that to which they had been subjected during
the university life through which the large majority of them had passed.
The corporate life of the universities, and the enthusiasms (habitually
unanimous) of their undergraduates and younger graduates, communicated
this influence, as it were automatically, to the students, and to the
learned societies themselves, of the Inns of Court. In the Tudor, as
afterwards in the early Stuart, times, these Inns were at once the
seminaries of loyalty, and the obvious resort for the supply of young
men of spirit desirous of honouring a learned court by contributing to
its choicer amusements. Thus, whether we trace them in the universities,
in the "bowers" or halls of the lawyers, or in the palaces of the
sovereign, the beginnings of the English academical drama, which in
later Elizabethan and Jacobean literature cannot claim to be more than a
subordinate species of the national drama, in an earlier period served
as the actual link between classical tragedy and comedy and the
surviving native growths, and supplied the actual impulse towards the
beginnings of English tragedy and comedy.


  The earlier academical drama.

The academical drama of the early years of Elizabeth's reign and of the
preceding part of the Tudor period--including the school-drama in the
narrower sense of the term and other performances of academical
origin--consisted, apart from actual reproductions of classical plays in
original Latin or in Latin versions of the Greek, in adaptations of
Latin originals, or of Latin or English plays directly modelled on
classical examples. A notable series of plays of this kind was performed
in the hall of Christ Church, Oxford, from the first year of Edward VI.
onward, when N. Grimald's _Archipropheta_, treating in classic form the
story of St John the Baptist, but introducing the Vice and comic scenes,
was brought out.[157] Others were J. Calfhill's _Progne_ and R.
Edwardes' _Palaemon and Arcyte_ (both 1566), and, from about 1580
onwards, a succession of Latin plays by William Gager, beginning with
the tragedy _Meleager_, and including, with other tragedies,[158] a
comedy _Rivales_. Yet another comedy, acted at Christ Church, and
extolled in 1591 by Harington for "harmless mirth," was the _Bellum
grammaticale_, or Civil War between Nouns and Verbs, which may have been
a revision of a comedy written by Bale's friend, R. Radcliff, in 1538,
but of which in any case the ultimate origin was a celebrated Italian
allegorical treatise.[159] In Cambridge, as is not surprising, the
activity of the early academical friends and favourers of the drama was
even more marked. At St John's College, where Bishop Watson's Latin
tragedy called _Absolom_ was produced within the years 1534 and 1544,
plays were, according to Ascham, repeatedly performed about the middle
of the century; at Christ's a controversial drama in the Lutheran
interest called _Pammachius_, of which Gardiner complained to the privy
council, and which seems afterwards to have been translated by Bale, was
acted in 1544; and at Trinity there was a long series of performances
which began with Christopherson's _Jephtha_ about 1546, and consisted
partly of reproductions of classical works,[160] partly of plays and
"shows" unnamed; while on one occasion at all events, in 1559, "two
English plays" were produced. In 1560 was acted, doubtless in the
original Latin, and not in Palsgrave's English translation (1540) for
schoolboys, the celebrated "comedy" of _Acolastus_, by W. Gnaphaeus, on
the story of the Prodigal Son. The long series of Trinity plays
interspersed with occasional plays at King's (where Udall's _Ezechias_
was produced in English in 1564), at St John's (where T. Legge's
_Richardus III._ was first acted in 1573), and, as will be seen below,
at Christ's, continued, with few noticeable breaks, up to the time when
the Elizabethan drama was in full activity.[161] Among the "academical"
plays not traceable to any particular university source may be
mentioned, as acted at court so early as the end of 1565 or the
beginning of 1566, the Latin _Sapientia Solomonis_, which generally
follows the biblical narrative, but introduces a comic element in the
sayings of the popular Marcolph, who here appears as a court fool.


  Influence of Seneca.

It was under the direct influence of the Renaissance, viewed primarily,
in England as elsewhere, as a revival of classical studies, and in
connexion with the growing taste in university and cognate circles of
society, and at a court which prided itself on its love and patronage of
learning, that English tragedy and comedy took their actual beginnings.
Those of comedy, as it would seem, preceded those of tragedy by a few
years. Already in Queen Mary's reign, translation was found the readiest
form of expression offering itself to literary scholarship; and Italian
examples helped to commend Seneca, the most modern of the ancient
tragedians, and the imitator of the most human among the masters of
Attic tragedy, as a favourite subject for such exercises. In the very
year of Elizabeth's accession--seven years after Jodelle had brought out
the earliest French tragedy--a group of English university scholars
began to put forth a series of translations of the ten tragedies of
Seneca, which one of them, T. Newton, in 1581 collected into a single
volume. The earliest of these versions was that of the _Troades_ (1559)
by Jasper Heywood, a son of the author of the _Interludes_. He also
published the _Thyestes_ (1560) and the _Hercules Furens_ (1561); the
names of his fellow-translators were A. Neville, T. Nuce, J. Studley and
the T. Newton aforesaid. These translations, which occasionally include
original interpolations ("additions," a term which was to become a
technical one in English dramaturgy), are in no instance in blank verse,
the favourite metre of the dialogue being the couplets of
fourteen-syllable lines best known through Chapman's _Homer_.


  Earliest English tragedies.

The authority of Seneca, once established in the English literary world,
maintained itself there long after English drama had emancipated itself
from the task of imitating this pallid model, and, occasionally,
Seneca's own prototype, Euripides.[162] Nor can it be doubted that some
translation of the Latin tragic poet had at one time or another passed
through Shakespeare's own hands. But what is of present importance is
that to the direct influence of Seneca is to be ascribed the composition
of the first English tragedy which we possess. Of _Gorboduc_ (afterwards
re-named _Ferrex and Porrex_), first acted on the 18th of January 1562
by the members of the Inner Temple before Queen Elizabeth, the first
three acts are stated to have been written by T. Norton; the rest of the
play (if not more) was the work of T. Sackville, afterwards Lord
Buckhurst and earl of Dorset, whom Jasper Heywood praised for his
sonnets, but who is better known for his leading share in The _Mirror
for Magistrates_. Though the subject of _Gorboduc_ is a British legend,
and though the action is neither copied nor adapted from any treated by
Seneca, yet the resemblance between this tragedy and the _Thebais_ is
too strong to be fortuitous. In all formal matters--chorus, messengers,
&c.--_Gorboduc_ adheres to the usage of classical tragedy; but the
authors show no respect for the unities of time or place. Strong in
construction, the tragedy is--like its model, Seneca--weak in
characterization. The dialogue, it should be noticed, is in blank verse;
and the device of the _dumb-show_, in which the contents of each act are
in succession set forth in pantomime only, is employed at once to
instruct and to stimulate the spectator.

The nearly contemporary _Apius and Virginia_ (c. 1563), though it takes
its subject--destined to become a perennial one on the modern
stage--from Roman story; the _Historie of Horestes_ (pr. 1567); and T.
Preston's _Cambises King of Percia_ (1569-1570), are somewhat rougher in
form, and, the first and last of them at all events, more violent in
diction, than _Gorboduc_. They still contain elements of the moralities
(above all the Vice) and none of the formal features of classical
tragedy. But a _Julyus Sesyar_ seems to have been performed, in
precisely the same circumstances as _Gorboduc_, so early as 1562; and,
four years later, G. Gascoigne, the author of the satire _The Steele
Glass_, produced with the aid of two associates (F. Kinwelmersh and Sir
Christopher Yelverton, who wrote an epilogue), _Jocasta_, a virtual
translation of L. Dolce's _Giocasta_, which was an adaptation, probably,
of R. Winter's Latin translation of the _Phoenissae_ of Euripides.[163]
Between the years 1567 and 1580 a large proportion of the plays
presented at court by choir- or school-boys, and by various companies of
actors, were taken from Greek legend or Roman history; as was R.
Edwardes' _Damon and Pithias_ (perhaps as early as 1564-1565), which
already shades off from tragedy into what soon came to be called
tragi-comedy.[164] Simultaneously with the influence, exercised directly
or indirectly, of classical literature, that of Italian, both dramatic
and narrative, with its marked tendency to treat native themes, asserted
itself, and, while diversifying the current of early English tragedy,
infused into it a long-abiding element of passion. There are sufficient
grounds for concluding that a play on the subject of _Romeo and Juliet_,
which L. da Porto and M. Bandello had treated in prose narrative--that
of the latter having through a French version formed itself into an
English poem--was seen on an English stage in or before 1562. _Gismonde
of Salerne_, a play founded on Boccaccio, was acted before Queen
Elizabeth at the Inner Temple in 1568, nearly a generation before it was
published, rewritten in blank verse by R. Wilmot, one of the performers,
then in holy orders; G. Whetstone's _Promos and Cassandra_, founded on
G. Cinthio (from which came the plot of _Measure for Measure_),
followed, printed in 1578; and there were other "casts of Italian
devices" belonging to this age, in which the choice of a striking theme
still seemed the chief preoccupation of English tragic poets.

From the double danger which threatened English tragedy in the days of
its infancy--that it would congeal on the wintry heights of classical
themes, or dissolve its vigour in the glowing heat of a passion fiercer
than that of the Italians--_Ingleso Italianato è un diavolo
incarnato_--it was preserved more than by any other cause by its happy
association with the traditions of the national history. An exceptional
position might seem to be in this respect occupied by T. Hughes'
interesting tragedy _The Misfortunes of Arthur_ (1587). But the author
of this play--in certain portions of whose framework there were
associated with him seven other members of Gray's Inn, including Francis
Bacon, and which was presented before Queen Elizabeth like
_Gorboduc_--in truth followed the example of the authors of that work
both in choice of theme, in details of form, and in a general though far
from servile imitation of the manner of Seneca; nor does he represent
any very material advance upon the first English tragedy.


  Chronicle histories.

Fortunately, at the very time when from such beginnings as those just
described the English tragic drama was to set forth upon a course in
which it was to achieve so much, a new sphere of activity suggested
itself. And in this, after a few more or less tentative efforts, English
dramatists very speedily came to feel at home. In their direct
dramatization of passages or portions of English history (in which the
doings and sufferings of King Arthur could only by courtesy or poetic
licence be included) classical models would be of scant service, while
Italian examples of the treatment of national historical subjects,
having to deal with material so wholly different, could not be followed
with advantage. The native species of the _chronicle history_, which
designedly assumed this name in order to make clear its origin and
purpose, essayed nothing more or less than a dramatic version of an
existing chronicle. Obviously, while the transition from half
historical, half epical narrative often implied carrying over into the
new form some of the features of the old, it was only when the subject
matter had been remoulded and recast that a true dramatic action could
result. But the _histories_ to be found among the plays of Shakespeare
and one or two other Elizabethans are true dramas, and it would be
inconvenient to include these in the transitional species of those known
as _chronicle histories_. Among these ruder compositions, which
intermixed the blank verse introduced on the Stage by _Gorboduc_ with
prose, and freely combined or placed side by side tragic and comic
ingredients, we have but few distinct examples. One of these is _The
Famous Victories of Henry the Fifth_, known to have been acted before
1588; in which both the verse and the prose are frequently of a very
rude sort, while it is neither divided into acts or scenes nor, in
general, constructed with any measure of dramatic skill. But its vigour
and freshness are considerable, and in many passages we recognize
familiar situations and favourite figures in later masterpieces of the
English historical drama. The second is _The Troublesome Raigne of King
John_, in two parts (printed in 1591), an epical narrative transferred
to the stage, neither a didactic effort like Bale's, nor a living drama
like Shakespeare's, but a far from contemptible treatment of its
historical theme. _The True Chronicle History of King Leir_ (acted in
1593) in form resembles the above, though it is not properly on a
national subject (its story is taken from Geoffrey of Monmouth); but,
with all its defects, it seems only to await the touch of the master's
hand to become a tragedy of supreme effectiveness. A yet further step
was taken in the _Tragedy of Sir Thomas More_ (c. 1590)--in which
Shakespeare's hand has been thought traceable, and which deserves its
designation of "tragedy" not so much on account of the relative nearness
of the historical subject to the date of its dramatic treatment, as
because of the tragic responsibility of character here already clearly
worked out.


  Earliest comedies.

Such had been the beginnings of tragedy in England up to the time when
the genius of English dramatists was impelled by the spirit that
dominates a great creative epoch of literature to seize the form ready
to their hands. The birth of English comedy, at all times a process of
less labour and eased by an always ready popular responsiveness to the
most tentative efforts of art, had slightly preceded that of her serious
sister. As has been seen from the brief review given above of the early
history of the English academical drama, isolated Latin comedies had
been performed in the original or in English versions as early as the
reign of Henry VIII.--perhaps even earlier; while the morality and its
direct descendant, the interlude, pointed the way towards popular
treatment in the vernacular of actions and characters equally well
suited for the diversion of Roman, Italian and English audiences. Thus
there was no innovation in the adaptation by N. Udal (q.v.) of the
_Miles Gloriosus_ of Plautus under the title of _Ralph Roister Doister_,
which may claim to be the earliest extant English comedy. It has a
genuinely popular vein of humour, and the names fit the characters after
a fashion familiar to the moralities. The second English comedy--in the
opinion of at least one high authority our first--is _Misogonus_, which
was certainly written as early as 1560. Its scene is laid in Italy; but
the Vice, commonly called "Cacurgus," is both by himself and others
frequently designated as "Will Summer," in allusion to Henry VIII.'s
celebrated jester. _Gammer Gurton's Needle_, long regarded as the
earliest of all _English_ comedies, was printed in 1575, as acted "not
long ago in Christ's College, Cambridge." Its authorship was till
recently attributed to John Still (afterwards bishop of Bath and Wells),
who was a resident M.A. at Christ's, when a play was performed there in
1566. But the evidence of his authorship is inconclusive, and the play
"made by Mr. S., Master of Arts," may be by William Stevenson, or by
some other contemporary. This comedy is slighter in plot and coarser in
diction than _Ralph Roister Doister_, but by no means unamusing.

In the main, however, early English comedy, while occasionally
introducing characters and scenes of thoroughly native origin and
complexion (e.g. Grim, the Collier of Croydon),[165] was content to
borrow its themes from classical or Italian sources.[166] G. Gascoigne's
_Supposes_ (acted at Gray's Inn in 1566) is a translation of _I
Suppositi_ of Ariosto, remarkable for the flowing facility of its
prose. While, on the one hand, the mixture of tragic with comic motives,
which was to become so distinctive a feature of the Elizabethan drama,
was already leading in the direction of tragi-comedy, the precedent of
the Italian pastoral drama encouraged the introduction of figures and
stories derived from classical mythology; and the rapid and diversified
influence of Italian comedy, in close touch with Italian prose fiction,
seemed likely to affect and quicken continuously the growth of the
lighter branch of the English drama.


  Conditions of the early Elizabethan drama.

Out of such promises as these the glories of English drama were ripened
by the warmth and light of the great Elizabethan age--of which the
beginnings may fairly be reckoned from the third decennium of the reign
to which it owes its name. The queen's steady love of dramatic
entertainments could not of itself have led, though it undoubtedly
contributed, to such a result. Against the attacks which a nascent
puritanism was already directing against the stage by the hands of J.
Northbrooke,[167] the repentant playwright S. Gosson,[168] P.
Stubbes,[169] and others,[170] were to be set not only the frugal favour
of royalty and the more liberal patronage of great nobles,[171] but the
fact that literary authorities were already weighing the endeavours of
the English drama in the balance of respectful criticism, and that in
the abstract at least the claims of both tragedy and comedy were upheld
by those who shrank from the desipience of idle pastimes. It is
noticeable that this period in the history of the English theatre
coincides with the beginning of the remarkable series of visits made to
Germany by companies of English comedians, which did not come to an end
till the period immediately before the Thirty Years' War, and were
occasionally resumed after its close. As at home the popularity of the
stage increased, the functions of playwright and actor, whether combined
or not, began to hold out a reasonable promise of personal gain. Nor,
above all, was that higher impulse which leads men of talent and genius
to attempt forms of art in harmony with the tastes and tendencies of
their times wanting to the group of writers who can be remembered by no
nobler name than that of Shakespeare's predecessors.


  The predecessors of Shakespeare.

The lives of all of these are, of course, in part contemporary with the
life of Shakespeare himself; nor was there any substantial difference in
the circumstances under which most of them, and he, led their lives as
dramatic authors. A distinction was manifestly kept up between poets and
playwrights. Of the contempt entertained for the actor's profession some
fell to the share of the dramatist; "even Lodge," says C. M. Ingleby,
"who had indeed never trod the stage, but had written several plays, and
had no reason to be ashamed of his antecedents, speaks of the vocation
of the play-maker as sharing the odium attaching to the actor." Among
the dramatists themselves good fellowship and literary partnership only
at times asserted themselves as stronger than the tendency to mutual
jealousy and abuse; of all chapters of dramatic history, the annals of
the early Elizabethan stage perhaps least resemble those of Arcadia.


  History of the Elizabethan stage.

Moreover, the theatre had hardly found its strength as a powerful
element in the national life, when it was involved in a bitter
controversy, with which it had originally no connexion, on behalf of an
ally whose sympathy with it can only have been of a very limited kind.
The Marprelate controversy, into which, among leading playwrights, Lyly
and Nashe were drawn, in 1589 led to a stoppage of stage-plays which
proved only temporary; but the general result of the attempt to make the
stage a vehicle of political abuse and invective was beyond a doubt to
coarsen and degrade both plays and players. Scurrilous attempts and
rough repression continued during the years 1590-1593; and the true
remedy was at last applied, when from about 1594, the chief London
actors became divided into two great rival companies--the lord
chamberlain's and the lord admiral's--which alone received licences.
Instead of half a dozen or more companies whose jealousies communicated
themselves to the playwrights belonging to them, there were now, besides
the Children of the Chapel, two established bodies of actors, directed
by steady and, in the full sense of the word, respectable men. To the
lord chamberlain's company, which, after being settled at "the Theater"
(opened as early as 1576 or 1577), moved to Blackfriars, purchased by
James Burbage, in 1596, and to the Globe on the Bankside in 1599,
Shakespeare and Richard Burbage, the greatest of the Elizabethan actors,
belonged; the lord admiral's was managed by Philip Henslowe, the author
of the _Diary_, and Edward Alleyn, the founder of Dulwich College, and
was ultimately, in 1600, settled at the Fortune. In these and other
houses were performed the plays of the Elizabethan dramatists, with few
adventitious aids, the performance being crowded into a brief afternoon,
when it is obvious that only the idler sections of the population could
attend. No woman might appear at a playhouse, unless masked; on the
stage, down to the Restoration, women's parts continued to be acted by
boys.

It is futile to take no account of such outward circumstances as these
and many which cannot here be noted in surveying the progress of the
literature of the Elizabethan drama. Like that of the Restoration--and
like that of the present day--it was necessarily influenced in its
method and spirit of treatment by the conditions and restrictions which
governed the place and circumstances of the performance of plays,
including the construction of theatre and stage, as well as by the
social composition of its audiences, which the local accommodation, not
less than the entertainment, provided for them had to take into account.
But to these things a mere allusion must suffice. It may safely be said,
at the same time, that no dramatic literature which has any claim to
rank beside the Elizabethan--not that of Athens nor those of modern
Italy and Spain, nor those of France and Germany in their classic
periods--had to contend against such odds; a mighty inherent strength
alone ensured to it the vitality which it so triumphantly asserted, and
which enabled it to run so unequalled a course.


  Lyly.

  Kyd.

  Marlowe.

  Peele.

  Greene.

Among Shakespeare's predecessors, John Lyly, whose plays were all
written for the Children of the Chapel and the Children of St Paul's,
holds a position apart in English dramatic literature. The euphuism, to
which his famous romance gave its name, likewise distinguishes his
mythological,[172] quasi-historical,[173] allegorical,[174] and
satirical[175] comedies. But his real service to the progress of English
drama is to be sought neither in his choice of subjects nor in his
imagery--though to his fondness for fairylore and for the whole
phantasmagoria of legend, classical as well as romantic, his
contemporaries, and Shakespeare in particular, were indebted for a
stimulative precedent, and though in his _Endimion_ at all events he
excites curiosity by an allegorical treatment of contemporary characters
and events. It does not even lie in the songs interspersed in his plays,
though none of his predecessors had in the slightest degree anticipated
the lyric grace which distinguishes some of these incidental efforts. It
consists in his adoption of Gascoigne's innovation of writing plays in
prose; and in his having, though under the fetters of an affected and
pretentious style, given the first example of brisk and vivacious
dialogue--an example to which even such successors as Shakespeare and
Jonson were indebted. Thomas Kyd, the author of the _Spanish Tragedy_
(preceded or followed by the first part of _Jeronimo_), and probably of
several plays whose author was unnamed, possesses some of the
characteristics, but none of the genius, of the greatest tragic
dramatist who preceded Shakespeare. No slighter tribute than this is
assuredly the due of Christopher Marlowe, whose violent end prematurely
closed a poetic career of dazzling brilliancy. His earliest play,
_Tamburlaine the Great_, in which the use of blank verse was introduced
upon the English public stage, while full of the "high astounding terms"
of an extravagant and often bombastic diction, is already marked by the
passion which was the poet's most characteristic feature, and which was
to find expression so luxuriantly beautiful in his _Doctor Faustus,_ and
so surpassingly violent in his _Jew of Malta_. His masterpiece, _Edward
II._, is a tragedy of singular pathos and of a dramatic power
unapproached by any of his contemporaries. George Peele was a far more
versatile writer even as a dramatist; but, though his plays contain
passages of exquisite beauty, not one of them is worthy to be ranked by
the side of Marlowe's _Edward II._, compared with which, if indeed not
absolutely, Peele's _Chronicle of Edward I._ still stands on the level
of the species to which its title and character alike assign it. His
finest play is undoubtedly _David and Bethsabe_, which resembles _Edward
I._ in construction, but far surpasses it in beauty of language and
versification, besides treating its subject with greatly superior
dignity. If the difference between Peele and Shakespeare is still, in
many respects besides that of genius, an immeasurable one, we seem to
come into something like a Shakespearian atmosphere in more than one
passage of the plays of the unfortunate Robert Greene--unfortunate
perhaps in nothing more enduringly than in the proof which he left
behind him of his supercilious jealousy of Shakespeare. Greene's genius,
most conspicuous in plays treating English life and scenes, could,
notwithstanding his academic self-sufficiency, at times free itself from
the pedantry apt to beset the flight of Peele's and at times even of
Marlowe's muse; and his most delightful work[176] seems to breathe
something of the air, sweet and fresh like no other, which blows over an
English countryside. Thomas Lodge, whose dramatic, and much less of
course his literary activity, is measured by the only play that we know
to have been wholly his;[177] Thomas Nashe, the redoubtable pamphleteer
and the father of the English picaresque novel;[178] Henry Chettle, who
worked the chords of both pity[179] and terror[180] with equal vigour,
and Anthony Munday, better remembered for his city pageants than for his
plays, are among the other more important writers of the early
Elizabethan drama, though not all of them can strictly speaking be
called predecessors of Shakespeare. It is not possible here to enumerate
the more interesting of the anonymous plays which belong to this
"pre-Shakespearian" period of the Elizabethan drama; but many of them
are by intrinsic merit as well as for special causes deserving of the
attention of the student.


  Common characteristics of the early Elizabethans.

The common characteristics of nearly all these dramatists and plays were
in accordance with those of the great age to which they belonged.
Stirring times called for stirring themes, such as those of "Mahomet,
Scipio and Tamerlane"; and these again for a corresponding vigour of
treatment. Neatness and symmetry of construction were neglected for
fulness and variety of matter. Novelty and grandeur of subject seemed
well matched by a swelling amplitude and often reckless extravagance of
diction. As if from an inner necessity, the balance of rhymed couplets
gave way to the impetuous march of blank verse; "strong lines" were as
inevitably called for as strong situations and strong characters.
Although the chief of these poets are marked off from one another by the
individual genius which impressed itself upon both the form and the
matter of their works, yet the stamp of the age is upon them all.
Writing for the stage only, of which some of them possessed a personal
experience and from which none of them held aloof, they acquired an
instinctive insight into the laws of dramatic cause and effect, and
infused a warm vitality into the dramatic literature which they
produced, so to speak, for immediate consumption. On the other hand, the
same cause made rapidity of workmanship indispensable to a successful
playwright. _How_ a play was produced, how many hands had been at work
upon it, what loans and what spoliations had been made in the process,
were considerations of less moment than the question _whether_ it was
produced, and whether it succeeded. His harness--frequently double or
triple--was inseparable from the lusty Pegasus of the early English
drama, and its genius toiled, to borrow the phrase of the Attic
comedian, "like an Arcadian mercenary."


  Progress of tragedy and comedy before Shakespeare.

This period of the English drama, though it is far from being one of
crude effort, could not therefore yet be one of full consummation. In
tragedy the advance which had been made in the choice of great themes,
in knitting closer the connection between the theatre and the national
history, in vindicating to passion its right to adequate expression, was
already enormous. In comedy the advance had been less decisive and less
independent; much had been gained in reaching greater freedom of form
and something in enlarging the range of subjects; but artificiality had
proved a snare in the one direction, while the licence of the comic
stage, upheld by favourite "clowns," such as Kemp or Tarlton, had not
succumbed before less elastic demands. The way of escaping from the
dilemma had, however, been already recognized to lie in the construction
of suitable plots, for which a full storehouse was open in the popular
traditions preserved in national ballads, and in the growing literature
of translated foreign fiction, or of native imitations of it. Meanwhile,
the aberration of the comic stage to political and religious
controversy, which it could never hope to treat with Attic freedom in a
country provided with a strong monarchy and a dogmatic religion, seemed
likely to extinguish the promise of the beginnings of English romantic
comedy.


  Shakespeare.

These were the circumstances under which the greatest of dramatists
began to devote his genius to the theatre. Shakespeare's career as a
writer of plays can have differed little in its beginnings from those of
his contemporaries and rivals. Before or while he was proceeding from
the re-touching and re-writing of the plays of others to original
dramatic composition, the most gifted of those whom we have termed his
predecessors had passed away. He had been decried as an actor before he
was known as an author; and after living through days of darkness for
the theatre, if not for himself, attained, before the close of the
century, to the beginnings of his prosperity and the beginnings of his
fame. But if we call him fortunate, it is not because of such rewards as
these. As a poet, Shakespeare was no doubt happy in his times, which
intensified the strength of the national character, expanded the
activities of the national mind, and were able to add their stimulus
even to such a creative power as his. He was happy in the antecedents of
the form of literature which commended itself to his choice, and in the
opportunities which it offered in so many directions for an advance to
heights yet undiscovered and unknown. What he actually accomplished was
due to his genius, whose achievements are immeasurable like itself. His
influence upon the progress of English drama divides itself in very
unequal proportions into a direct and an indirect influence. To the
former alone reference can here be made.


  Shakespeare and the national historical drama.

Already the first editors of Shakespeare's works in a collected form
recognized so marked a distinction between his plays taken from English
history and those treating other historical subjects (whether ancient or
modern) that, while they included the latter among the tragedies at
large, they grouped the former as _histories_ by themselves. These
_histories_ are in their literary genesis a development of the
_chronicle histories_ of Shakespeare's predecessors and contemporaries,
the taste for which had greatly increased towards the beginning of his
own career as a dramatist, in accordance with the general progress of
national life and sentiment in this epoch. Though it cannot be assumed
that Shakespeare composed his several dramas from English history in the
sequence of the chronology of their themes, his genius gave to the
entire series an inner harmony, and a continuity corresponding to that
which is distinctive of the national life, such as not unnaturally
inspired certain commentators with the wish to prove it a symmetrically
constructed whole. He thus brought this peculiarly national species to a
perfection which made it difficult, if not impossible, for his later
contemporaries and successors to make more than an occasional addition
to his series. None of them was, however, found able or ready to take up
the thread where Shakespeare had left it, after perfunctorily attaching
the present to the past by a work (probably not all his own) which must
be regarded as the end rather than the crown of the series of his
_histories_.[181] But to furnish such supplements accorded little with
the tastes and tendencies of the later Elizabethans; and with the
exception of an isolated work,[182] the national historical drama in
Shakespeare reached at once its perfection and its close. The ruder form
of the old chronicle history for a time survived the advance made upon
it; but the efforts in this field of T. Heywood,[183] S. Rowley,[184]
and others are, from a literary point of view, anachronisms.

Of Shakespeare's other plays the several groups exercised a more direct
influence upon the general progress of our dramatic literature. His
Roman tragedies, though following their authorities with much the same
fidelity as that of the English _histories_, even more effectively
taught the great lesson of free dramatic treatment of historic themes,
and thus pre-eminently became the perennial models of the modern
historic drama. His tragedies on other subjects, which necessarily
admitted of a more absolute freedom of treatment, established themselves
as the examples for all time of the highest kind of tragedy. Where else
is exhibited with the same fulness the struggle between will and
obstacle, character and circumstance? Where is mirrored with equal power
and variety the working of those passions in the mastery of which over
man lies his doom? Here, above all, Shakespeare as compared with his
predecessors, as well as with his successors, "_is_ that nature which
they paint and draw." He threw open to modern tragedy a range of
hitherto unknown breadth and depth and height, and emancipated the
national drama in its noblest forms from limits to which it could never
again restrict itself without a consciousness of having renounced its
enfranchisement. Happily for the variety of his creative genius on the
English stage, no divorce had been proclaimed between the serious and
the comic, and no division of species had been established such as he
himself ridicules as pedantic when it professes to be exhaustive. The
comedies of Shakespeare accordingly refuse to be tabulated in deference
to any method of classification deserving to be called precise; and
several of them are comedies only according to a purely technical use of
the term. In those in which the instinct of reader or spectator
recognizes the comic interest to be supreme, it is still of its nature
incidental to the progress of the action; for the criticism seems just,
as well as in agreement with what we can conclude as to Shakespeare's
process of construction, that among all his comedies not more than a
single one[185] is in both design and effect a comedy of character
proper. Thus in this direction, while the unparalleled wealth of his
invention renewed or created a whole gallery of types, he left much to
be done by his successors; while the truest secrets of his comic art,
which interweaves fancy with observation, draws wisdom from the lips of
fools, and imbues with character what all other hands would have left
shadowy, monstrous or trivial, are among the things inimitable belonging
to the individuality of his poetic genius.


  His style and its influence.

The influences of Shakespeare's diction and versification upon those of
the English drama in general can hardly be overrated, though it would be
next to impossible to state them definitely. In these points,
Shakespeare's manner as a writer was progressive; and this progress has
been deemed sufficiently well traceable in his plays to be used as an
aid in seeking to determine their chronological sequence. The general
laws of this progress accord with those of the natural advance of
creative genius; artificiality gives way to freedom, and freedom in its
turn submits to a greater degree of regularity and care. In
versification as in diction the earliest and the latest period of
Shakespeare's dramatic writing are more easily recognizable than what
lies between and may be called the _normal_ period, the plays belonging
to which in form most resemble one another, and are least affected by
distinguishable peculiarities--such as the rhymes and intentionally
euphuistic colouring of style which characterize the earliest, or the
feminine endings of the lines and the more condensed manner of
expression common to the latest of his plays. But, such distinctions
apart, there can be no doubt but that in verse and in prose alike,
Shakespeare's style, so far as it admitted of reproduction, is itself to
be regarded as the _norm_ of that of the Elizabethan drama; that in it
the prose form of English comedy possesses its first accepted model; and
that in it the chosen metre of the English versified drama established
itself as irremovable unless at the risk of an artificial experiment.


  Influence of his method of construction.

The assertion may seem paradoxical, that it is by their construction
that Shakespeare's plays exerted the most palpable influence upon the
English drama, as well as upon the modern drama of the Germanic nations
in general, and upon such forms of the Romance drama as have been in
more recent times based upon it. For it was not in construction that his
greatest strength lay, or that the individuality of his genius could
raise him above the conditions under which he worked in common with his
immediate predecessors and contemporaries. Yet the fact that he accepted
these conditions, while producing works of matchless strength and of
unequalled fidelity to the demands of nature and art, established them
as inseparable from the Shakespearian drama--to use a term which is
perhaps unavoidable but has been often misapplied. The great and
irresistible demand on the part of Shakespeare's public was for
_incident_--a demand which of itself necessitated a method of
construction different from that of the Greek drama, or of those
modelled more or less closely upon it. To no other reason is to be
ascribed the circumstance that Shakespeare so constantly combined two
actions in the course of a single play, not merely supplementing the one
by means of the other as a bye- or under-plot. In no respect is the
progress of his technical skill as a dramatist more apparent,--a
proposition which a comparison of plays clearly ascribable to successive
periods of his life must be left to prove.


  His characters.

Should it, however, be sought to express in one word the greatest debt of
the drama to Shakespeare, this word must be the same as that which
expresses his supreme gift as a dramatist. It is in _characterization_--in
the drawing of characters ranging through almost every type of humanity
which furnishes a fit subject for the tragic or the comic art--that he
remains absolutely unapproached; and it was in this direction that he
pointed the way which the English drama could not henceforth desert
without becoming untrue to itself. It may have been a mere error of
judgment which afterwards held him to have been surpassed by others in
particular fields of characterization (setting him down, forsooth, as
supremely excellent in male, but not in female, characters). But it was a
sure sign of decay when English writers began to shrink from following him
in the endeavour to make the drama a mirror of humanity, and when, in
self-condemned arrogance, they thrust unreality back upon a stage which he
had animated with the warm breath of life, where Juliet had blossomed like
a flower of spring, and where Othello's noble nature had suffered and
sinned.


  Forms of the later Elizabethan drama.

  The pastoral drama.

By the numerous body of poets who, contemporary with Shakespeare or in
the next generation, cultivated the wide field of the national drama,
every form commending itself to the tastes and sympathies of the
national genius was essayed. None were neglected except those from which
the spirit of English literature had been estranged by the Reformation,
and those which had from the first been artificial importations of the
Renaissance. The mystery could not in England, as in Spain, produce such
an aftergrowth as the _auto_, and the confines of the religious drama
were only now and then tentatively touched.[186] The direct imitations
of classical examples were, except perhaps in the continued efforts of
the academical drama, few and feeble. Chapman, while resorting to use of
narrative in tragedy and perhaps otherwise indebted to ancient models,
was no follower of them in essentials. S. Daniel (1562-1619) may be
regarded as a belated disciple of Seneca,[187] while experiments like W.
Alexander's (afterwards earl of Stirling) _Monarchicke Tragedies_[188]
(1603-1605) are the mere isolated efforts of a student, and more
exclusively so than Milton's imposing _Samson Agonistes_, which belongs
to a later date (1677). At the opposite end of the dramatic scale, the
light gaiety of the Italian and French farce could not establish itself
on the English popular stage without more substantial adjuncts; the
Englishman's festive digestion long continued robust, and he liked his
amusements solid. In the pastoral drama and the mask, however, many
English dramatists found special opportunities for the exercise of their
lyrical gifts and of their inventive powers. The former could never
become other than an exotic, so long as it retained the artificial
character of its origin. Shakespeare had accordingly only blended
elements derived from it into the action of his romantic comedies. In
more or less isolated works Jonson, Fletcher, Daniel, Randolph, and
others sought to rival Tasso and Guarini--Jonson[189] coming nearest to
nationalizing an essentially foreign growth by the fresh simplicity of
his treatment, Fletcher[190] bearing away the palm for beauty of poetic
execution; Daniel being distinguished by simpler beauties of style in
both verse and prose.[191]


  The mask.

The mask (or masque) was a more elastic kind of composition, mixing in
varying proportions its constituent elements of declamation and
dialogue, music and dancing, decoration and scenery. In its least
elaborate literary form--which, of course, externally was the most
elaborate--it closely approached the pageant; in other instances the
distinctness of its characters or the fulness of the action introduced
into its scheme, brought it nearer to the regular drama. A frequent
ornament of Queen Elizabeth's progresses, it was cultivated with
increased assiduity in the reign of James I., and in that of his
successor outshone, by the favour it enjoyed with court and nobility,
the attractions of the regular drama itself. Most of the later
Elizabethan dramatists contributed to this species, upon which
Shakespeare expended the resources of his fancy only incidentally in the
course of his dramas; but by far the most successful writer of masks was
Ben Jonson, of whose numerous compositions of this kind many hold a
permanent place in English poetic literature, and "next" whom, in his
own judgment, "only Fletcher and Chapman could write a mask." From a
poetic point of view, however, they were at least rivalled by Dekker and
Ford; in productivity and favour T. Campion, who was equally eminent as
poet and as musician, seems for a time to have excelled. Inasmuch,
however, as the history of the mask in England is to a great extent that
of "painting and carpentry" and of Inigo Jones, and as, moreover, this
kind of piece, while admitting dramatic elements, is of its nature
occasional, it need not further be pursued here. The _Microcosmus_ of T.
Nabbes (printed 1637), which is very like a morality, seems to have been
the first mask brought upon the public stage. It was the performance of
a mask by Queen Henrietta Maria and her ladies at Whitehall which had
some years previously (1632) been thought to have supplied to the
invective of _Histrio-Mastix_ against the stage the occasion for
disloyal innuendo; and it was for the performance of a mask in a great
nobleman's castle that Milton--a Puritan of a very different cast--not
long afterwards (1634) wrote one of the loftiest and loveliest of
English poems. _Comus_ has been judged and condemned as a
drama--unjustly, for the dramatic qualities of a mask are not essential
to it as a species. Yet its history in England remains inseparably
connected with that of the Elizabethan drama. In later times the mask
merged into the opera, or continued a humble life of its own apart from
contact with higher literary effort. It is strange that later English
poets should have done so little to restore to its nobler uses, and to
invest with a new significance, a form so capable of further development
as the poetic mask.


  The later Elizabethan drama.

The annals of English drama proper in the period reaching from the
closing years of Elizabeth to the outbreak of the great Revolution
include, together with numerous names relatively insignificant, many
illustrious in the history of our poetic literature. Among Shakespeare's
contemporaries and successors there is, however, but one who by the
energy of his genius, not less than by the circumstances of his literary
career, reached undisputed primacy among his fellows. Ben Jonson, to
whom in his latter days a whole generation of younger writers did filial
homage as to their veteran chief, was alone in full truth the founder of
a school or family of dramatists. Yet his pre-eminence did not (whatever
he or his followers may have thought) extend to both branches of the
regular drama. In tragedy he fell short of the highest success; the
weight of his learning lay too heavily upon his efforts to draw from
deeper sources than those which had sufficed for Shakespeare. Such as
they are, his tragic works[192] stand almost, though not quite, alone in
this period as examples of sustained effort in historic tragedy proper.
G. Chapman treated stirring themes, more especially from modern French
history,[193] always with vigour, and at times with genuine
effectiveness; but, though rich in beauties of detail, he failed in this
branch of the drama to follow Shakespeare even at a distance in the
supreme art of fully developing a character by means of the action.
Mention has been made above of Ford's isolated effort in the direction
of historic tragedy, as well as of excursions into the still popular
domain of the chronicle history by T. Heywood, Dekker and others, which
cannot be regarded as anything more than retrogressions. With the great
body of the English dramatists of this and of the next period, tragedy
had passed into a phase where its interest depended mainly upon plot and
incident. The romantic tragedies and tragi-comedies which crowd English
literature in this period constitute together a growth of at first sight
astonishing exuberance, and in mere externals of theme--ranging as these
plays do from Byzantium to ancient Britain, and from the Caesars of
ancient Rome to the tyrants of the Renaissance--of equally astonishing
variety. The sources from which these subjects were derived had been
perennially augmenting. Besides Italian, Spanish and French fiction,
original or translated, besides British legend in its Romance dress, and
English fiction in its humbler or in its more ambitious and artificial
forms, the contemporary foreign drama, especially the Spanish, offered
opportunities for resort. To the English, as to the French and Italian
drama, of both this and the following century, the prolific dramatists
clustering round Lope de Vega and Calderon, and the native or
naturalized fictions from which they drew their materials supplied a
whole arsenal of plots, incidents and situations--among others to
Middleton, to Webster, and most signally to Beaumont and Fletcher. And,
in addition to these resources, a new field of supply was at hand since
English dramatists had begun to regard events and episodes of domestic
life as fit subjects for tragic treatment. Domestic tragedy of this
description was indeed no novelty on the English stage; Shakespeare
himself may have retouched with his master-hand more than one effort of
this kind;[194] but T. Heywood may be set down as the first who achieved
any work of considerable literary value of this class,[195] to which
some of the plays of T. Dekker, T. Middleton, and others likewise more
or less belong. Yet, in contrast to this wide variety of sources, and
consequent apparent variety of themes, the number of _motives_
employed--at least as a rule--in the tragic drama of this period was
comparatively small and limited. Hence it is that, notwithstanding the
diversity of subjects among the tragic dramas of such writers as
Marston, Webster, Fletcher, Ford and Shirley, an impression of sameness
is left upon us by a connected perusal of these works. Scheming
ambition, conjugal jealousy, absolute female devotion, unbridled
masculine passion--such are the motives which constantly recur in the
Decameron of our later Elizabethan drama. And this impression is
heightened by the want of moderation, by the extravagance of passion,
which these dramatists so habitually exhibit in the treatment of their
favourite themes. All the tragic poets of this period are not equally
amenable to this charge; in J. Webster,[196] master as he is of the
effects of the horrible, and in J. Ford,[197] surpassingly seductive in
his sweetness, the monotony of exaggerated passion is broken by those
marvellously sudden and subtle touches through which their tragic genius
creates its most thrilling effects. Nor will the tendency to excess of
passion which F. Beaumont and J. Fletcher undoubtedly exhibit be
confounded with their distinctive power of sustaining tenderly pathetic
characters and irresistibly moving situations in a degree unequalled by
any of their contemporaries--a power seconded by a beauty of diction and
softness of versification which for a time raised them to the highest
pinnacle of popular esteem, and which entitles them in their
conjunction, and Fletcher as an independent worker, to an enduring
pre-eminence among their fellows. In their morals Beaumont and Fletcher
are not above the level of their age. The manliness of sentiment and
occasionally greater width of outlook which ennoble the rhetorical
genius of P. Massinger, and the gift of poetic illustration which
entitles J. Shirley to be remembered not merely as the latest and the
most fertile of this group of dramatists, have less direct bearing upon
the general character of the tragic art of the period. The common
features of the romantic tragedy of this age are sufficiently marked;
but they leave unobscured the distinctive features in its individual
writers of which a discerning criticism has been able to take note.

In comedy, on the other hand, the genius and the insight of Jonson
pointed the way to a steady and legitimate advance. His theory of
"humours" (which found the most palpable expression in two of his
earliest plays[198]), if translated into the ordinary language of
dramatic art, signifies the paramount importance in the comic drama of
the presentation of distinctive human types. As such it survived by name
into the Restoration age[199] and cannot be said to have ever died out.
In the actual reproduction of humanity in its infinite but never, in his
hands, alien variety, it was impossible that Shakespeare should be
excelled by Jonson; but in the consciousness with which he recognized
and indicated the highest sphere of a comic dramatist's labours, he
rendered to the drama a direct service which the greater master had left
unperformed. By the rest of his contemporaries and his successors, some
of whom, such as R. Brome, were content avowedly to follow in his
footsteps, Jonson was only occasionally rivalled in individual instances
of comic creations; in the entirety of its achievements his genius as a
comic dramatist remained unapproached. The favourite types of Jonsonian
comedy, to which Dekker, J. Marston and Chapman had, though to no large
extent, added others of their own, were elaborated with incessant zeal
and remarkable effect by their contemporaries and successors. It was
after a very different fashion from that in which the Roman comedians
reiterated the ordinary types of the New Attic comedy, that the
inexhaustible _verve_ of T. Middleton, the buoyant productivity of
Fletcher, the observant humour of N. Field, and the artistic
versatility of Shirley--not to mention many later and not necessarily
minor names[200]--mirrored in innumerable pictures of contemporary life
the undying follies and foibles of mankind. As comedians of manners more
than one of these surpassed the old master, not indeed in distinctness
and correctness--the fruits of the most painstaking genius that ever
fitted a learned sock to the representation of the living realities of
life--but in a lightness not incompatible with sureness of touch; while
in the construction of plots the access of abundant new materials, and
the greater elasticity in treatment resulting from accumulated
experience, enabled them to advance from success to success. Thus the
comic dramatic literature from Jonson to Shirley is unsurpassed as a
comedy of manners, while as a comedy of character it at least defies
comparison with any other national literary growth preceding or
contemporaneous with it. Though the younger generation, of which W.
Cartwright may be taken as an example, was unequal in originality or
force to its predecessors, yet so little exhausted was the vitality of
the species, that its traditions survived the _interregnum_ of the
Revolution, and connected themselves more closely than is sometimes
assumed with later growths of English comedy.


  The later academical drama.

Such was also the case with a special growth which had continued side by
side, but in growing frequency of contact, with the progress of the
national drama. The academical drama of the later Elizabethan period and
of the first two Stuart reigns by no means fell off either in activity
or in variety from that of the preceding generations. At Oxford, after
an apparent break of several years--though in the course of these one or
two new plays, including a _Tancred_ by Sir Henry Wotton at Queen's,
seem to have been produced--a long succession of English plays, some in
Latin doubtless from time to time intervening, were performed, from the
early years of the 17th century onwards to the dark days of the national
theatre and beyond. The production of these plays was distributed among
several colleges, among which the most conspicuously active were Christ
Church and St John's, where a whole series of festal performances took
place under the collective title of _The Christmas Prince_ (i.e. master
of the Christmas revels). They included a wide variety of pieces, from
the treatment by an author unnamed of the story of "Ovid's owne
Narcissus" (1602) and S. Daniel's _Queen's Arcadia_ (1606) to Barten
Holiday's _Technogamia_ (1618), a complicated allegory on the relations
between the arts and sciences quite in the manner of the moralities;
interspersed by romantic dramas of the ordinary contemporary type by T.
Goffe (1591-1629), W. Cartwright, J. Maine (1604-1672) and others. At
Cambridge the list of Latin and English academical plays, performed in
the latter half of Elizabeth's reign at Trinity, St John's, Queen's and
a few other colleges, contains several examples in each language which
for one reason or another possess a special interest. Thus E. Forsett's
_Pedantius_, probably acted at Trinity in 1581, ridicules a personage
who lived very near the rose--the redoubtable Gabriel Harvey;[201] a
_Laelia_, acted at Queen's in 1590 and again in 1598, resembles _Twelfth
Night_ in part of its plot; while in _Silvanus_, performed in 1596,
probably at St John's, there are certain striking similarities to _As
You Like It_. These are in Latin, as are the comedies _Hispanus_
(containing some curious allusions to the Armada, Drake and Dr Lopez)
and _Machiavellus_, acted at St John's in 1597.[202] By far the most
interesting of the English plays of the later Cambridge series, and, it
may be averred, of the remains of the English academical drama as a
whole, are the Parnassus Plays (q.v.), successively produced at St
John's in 1598-1602, which illustrate with much truthfulness as well as
fancy the relations between university life and the outside world,
including the world of letters and of the stage. Upon a different, but
also a very notable, aspect of English university life--the relations
between town and gown--a partisan light is thrown by _Club-Law_, acted
at Clare in 1599--and in G. Ruggle's celebrated Latin comedy of
_Ignoramus_, twice acted by members of Clare at Trinity in 1615 before
King James I. On one of these occasions were also produced in English T.
Tomkis' comedy _Albumazar_ (a play absurdly attributed to Shakespeare),
and Phineas Fletcher's _Sicelides_, a "piscatory" (i.e. a pastoral drama
in which the place of the shepherds is taken by fishermen). Latin and
English plays continued to be brought out in Cambridge till the year of
the outbreak of the Civil War, T. Randolph and A. Cowley[203] being
among the authors of some of the latest so produced; and with the
Restoration the usage recommenced, the _Adelphi_ of Terence and other
Latin comedies being performed as they had been a century earlier. A
complete survey and classification of the English academical drama, for
which the materials are at last being collected and compared, will prove
of an importance which is only beginning to be recognized to the future
historian of the English drama.


  The stage.

To return to the general current of that drama. The rivals against which
it had to contend in the times with which its greatest epoch came to an
end have in their turn been noticed. From the masks and triumphs at
court and at the houses of the nobility, with their Olympuses and
Parnassuses built by Inigo Jones, and filled with goddesses and nymphs
clad in the gorgeous costumes designed by his inventive hand, to the
city pageants and shows by land and water--from the tilts and
tournaments at Whitehall to the more philosophical devices at the Inns
of Court and the academical plays at the universities--down even to the
brief but thrilling theatrical excitements of Bartholomew Fair and the
"Ninevitical motions" of the puppets--in all these ways the various
sections of the theatrical public were tempted aside. Foreign
performers--French and Spanish actors, and even French actresses--paid
visits to London. But the national drama held its ground. The art of
acting maintained itself at least on the level to which it had been
brought by Shakespeare's associates and contemporaries, Burbage and
Heminge, Alleyn, Lewin, Taylor, and others "of the older sort." The
profession of actor came to be more generally than of old separated from
that of playwright, though they were still (as in the case of Field)
occasionally combined. But this rather led to an increased appreciation
of the artistic merit of actors who valued the dignity of their own
profession and whose co-operation the authors learnt to esteem as of
independent significance. The stage was purged from the barbarism of the
old school of clowns. Women's parts were still acted by boys, many of
whom attained to considerable celebrity; and a practice was thus
continued which must assuredly have placed the English theatre at a
considerable disadvantage as compared with the Spanish (where it never
obtained), and which may, while it has been held to have facilitated
freedom of fancy, more certainly encouraged the extreme licence of
expression cherished by the dramatists. The arrangement of the stage,
which facilitated a rapid succession of scenes without any necessity for
their being organically connected with one another, remained essentially
what it had been in Shakespeare's days; though the primitive expedients
for indicating locality had begun to be occasionally exchanged for
scenery more or less appropriate to the place of action. Costume was
apparently cultivated with much greater care; and the English stage of
this period had probably gone a not inconsiderable way in a direction to
which it is obviously in the interests of the dramatic art to set some
bounds, if it is to depend for its popular success upon its qualities as
such, and upon the interpretation of its agents upon the stage. At the
same time, the drama had begun largely to avail itself of adventitious
aids to favour. The system of prologues and epilogues, and of
dedications to published plays, was more uniformly employed than it had
been by Shakespeare as the conventional method of recommending authors
and actors to the favour of individual patrons, and to that of their
chief patron, the public.


  The drama and Puritanism.

  Closing of the theatres.

Up to the outbreak of the Civil War the drama in all its forms continued
to enjoy the favour or good-will of the court, although a close
supervision was exercised over all attempts to make the stage the
vehicle of political references or allusions. The regular official agent
of this supervision was the master of the revels; but under James I. a
special ordinance, in harmony with the king's ideas concerning the
dignity of the throne, was passed "against representing any modern
Christian king in plays on the stage." The theatre could hardly expect
to be allowed a liberty of speech in reference to matters of state
denied to the public at large; and occasional attempts to indulge in the
freedom of criticism dear to the spirit of comedy met with more or less
decisive repression and punishment.[204] But the sympathies of the
dramatists were so entirely on the side of the court that the real
difficulties against which the theatre had to contend came from a
directly opposite quarter. With the growth of Puritanism the feeling of
hostility to the stage increased in a large part of the population, well
represented by the civic authorities of the capital. This hostility
found many ways of expressing itself. The attempts to suppress the
Blackfriars theatre (1619, 1631, 1633) proved abortive; but the
representation of stage-plays continued to be prohibited on Sundays, and
during the prevalence of the plague in London in 1637 was temporarily
suspended altogether. The desire of the Puritans of the more pronounced
type openly aimed at a permanent closing of the theatres. The war
between them and the dramatists was accordingly of a life-and-death
kind. On the one hand, the drama heaped its bitterest and often coarsest
attacks upon whatever savoured of the Puritan spirit; gibes, taunts,
caricatures in ridicule and aspersion of Puritans and Puritanism make up
a great part of the comic literature of the later Elizabethan drama and
of its aftergrowth in the reigns of the first two Stuarts. This feeling
of hostility, to which Shakespeare was no stranger,[205] though he
cannot be connected with the authorship of one of its earliest and
coarsest expressions,[206] rose into a spirit of open defiance in some
of the masterpieces of Ben Jonson;[207] and the comedies of his
contemporaries and successors[208] abound in caricatured reproductions
of the more common or more extravagant types of Puritan life. On the
other hand, the moral defects, the looseness of tone, the mockery of
ties sanctioned by law and consecrated by religion, the tendency to
treat middle-class life as the hunting-ground for the diversions of the
upper classes, which degraded so much of the dramatic literature of the
age, intensified the Puritan opposition to all and any stage plays. A
patient endeavour to reform instead of suppressing the drama was not to
be looked for from such adversaries, should they ever possess the means
of carrying out their views; and whenever Puritanism should victoriously
assert itself in the state, the stage was doomed. Among the attacks
directed against it in its careless heyday of prosperity Prynne's
_Histrio-Mastix_ (1632), while it involved its author in shamefully
cruel persecution, did not remain wholly without effect upon the tone of
the dramatic literature of the subsequent period; but the quarrel
between Puritanism and the theatre was too old and too deep to end in
any but one way, so soon as the latter was deprived of its protectors.
The Civil War began in August 1642; and early in the following month was
published the ordinance of the Lords and Commons, which, after a brief
and solemn preamble, commanded "that while these sad causes and
set-times of humiliation do continue, public stage plays shall cease and
be forborne." Many actors and playwrights followed the fortunes of the
royal cause in the field; some may have gone into a more or less
voluntary exile; upon those who lingered on in the familiar haunts the
hand of power lay heavy; and, though there seems reason to believe that
dramatic entertainments of one kind or another continued to be
occasionally presented, stringent ordinances gave summary powers to
magistrates against any players found engaged in such proceedings
(1647), and bade them treat all stage-players as rogues, and pull down
all stage galleries, seats and boxes (1648). A few dramatic works were
published in this period;[209] while at fairs about the country were
acted farces called "drolls," consisting of the most vulgar scenes to be
found in popular plays. Thus, the life of the drama was not absolutely
extinguished; and its darkest day proved briefer than perhaps either its
friends or its foes could have supposed.


  Revival of the drama.

Already "in Oliver's time" private performances took place from time to
time at noblemen's houses and (though not undisturbed) in the old haunt
of the drama, the Red Bull. In 1656 the ingenuity of Sir William
Davenant whose name (though not really so significant in the dramatic as
in another field of English literature) is memorable as connecting
together two distinct periods in it, ventured on a bolder step in the
production of a quasi-dramatic entertainment "of declamation and music";
and in the following year he brought out with scenery and music a piece
which was afterwards in an enlarged form acted and printed as the first
part of his opera, _The Siege of Rhodes_. This entertainment he
afterwards removed from the private house where it had been produced to
the Cockpit, where he soon ventured upon the performance of regular
plays written by himself. Thus, under the cover of two sister arts,
whose aid was in the sequel to prove by no means altogether beneficial
to its progress, the English drama had boldly anticipated the
Restoration, and was no longer hiding its head when that much-desired
event was actually brought about. Soon after Charles II.'s entry into
London, two theatrical companies are known to have been acting in the
capital. For these companies patents were soon granted, under the names
of "the Duke (of York)'s" and "the King's Servants," to Davenant and one
of the brothers Killigrew respectively--the former from 1662 acting at
Lincoln's Inn Fields, then at Dorset Garden in Salisbury Court, the
latter from 1663 at the Theatre Royal near Drury Lane. These companies
were united from 1682, a royal licence being granted in 1695 to a rival
company which performed in Lincoln's Inn Fields, and which migrated to
Covent Garden in 1733. Meanwhile, Vanbrugh had in 1705 built the theatre
in the Haymarket; and a theatre in Goodman's Fields--afterwards rendered
famous by the first appearance of Garrick--led a fitful existence from
1729 to 1733. The act of 1737 deprived the crown of the power of
licensing any more theatres; so that the history of the English stage
for a long period was confined to a restricted area. The rule which
prevailed after the Restoration, that neither of the rival companies
should ever attempt a play produced by the other, operated beneficially
both upon the activity of dramatic authorship and upon the progress of
the art of acting, which was not exposed to the full effects of that
deplorable spirit of personal rivalry which too often leads even most
intelligent actors to attempt parts for which they have no special
qualification. There can be little doubt that the actor's art has rarely
flourished more in England than in the days of T. Betterton and his
contemporaries, among whose names those of Hart, Mohun, Kynaston, Nokes,
Mrs Barry, Mrs Betterton, Mrs Bracegirdle and Mrs Eleanor Gwyn have,
together with many others, survived in various connexions among the
memories of the Restoration age. No higher praise has ever been given to
an actor than that which Addison bestowed upon Betterton, in describing
his performance of _Othello_ as a proof that Shakespeare could not have
written the most striking passages of the character otherwise than he
has done.


  The Irish stage.

It may here be noticed that the fortunes of the Irish theatre in general
followed those of the English, of which of course it was merely a
branch. Of native dramatic compositions in earlier times not a trace
remains in Ireland; and the drama was introduced into that country as an
English exotic--apparently already in the reign of Henry VIII., and more
largely in that of Elizabeth. The first theatre in Dublin was built in
1635; but in 1641 it was closed, and even after the Restoration the
Irish stage continued in a precarious condition till near the end of the
century. About that time an extraordinarily strong taste for the theatre
took possession of Irish society, and during the greater part of the
18th century the Dublin stage rivalled the English in the brilliancy of
its stars. Betterton's rival, R. Wilks, Garrick's predecessor in the
homage paid to Shakespeare, Macklin, and his competitor for favour, the
"silver-tongued" Barry, were alike products of the Irish stage, as were
Mrs Woffington and other well-known actresses. Nor should it be
forgotten that three of the foremost English writers of comedy in its
later days, Congreve, Farquhar and Sheridan, were Irish, the first by
education, and the latter two by birth also.


  The later Stuart drama.

Already in the period preceding the outbreak of the Civil War the
English drama had perceptibly sunk from the height to which it had been
raised by the great Elizabethans. When it had once more recovered
possession of that arena with which no living drama can dispense, it
would have been futile to demand that the dramatists should return
altogether into the ancient paths, unaffected by the influences, native
or foreign, in operation around them. But there was no reason why the
new drama should not, like the Elizabethan, have been true in spirit to
the higher purposes of the dramatic art, to the nobler tendencies of the
national life, and to the demands of moral law. Because the later Stuart
drama as a whole proved untrue to these, and, while following its own
courses, never more than partially returned from the aberrations to
which it condemned itself, its history is that of a decay which the
indisputable brilliancy, borrowed or original, of many of its
productions is incapable of concealing.


  Tragedy.

Owing in part to the influence of the French theatre, which by this time
had taken the place of the Spanish as the ruling drama of Europe, the
separation between tragedy and comedy is clearly marked in
post-Restoration plays. Comic scenes are still occasionally introduced
into tragedies by some dramatists who adhered more closely to the
Elizabethan models (such as Otway and Crowne), but the practice fell
into disuse; while the endeavour to elevate comedy by pathetic scenes
and motives is one of the characteristic marks of the beginning of
another period in English dramatic literature. The successive phases
through which English tragedy passed in the later Stuart times cannot be
always kept distinct from one another; and the guidance offered by the
theories put forth by some of the dramatists in support of their
practice is often delusive. Following the example of Corneille, Dryden
and his contemporaries and successors were fond of proclaiming their
adherence to this or that principle of dramatic construction or form,
and of upholding, with much show of dialectical acumen, maxims derived
by them from French or other sources, or elaborated with modifications
and variations of their own, but usually amounting to little more than
what Scott calls "certain romantic whimsical imitations of the dramatic
art." Students of the drama will find much entertainment and much
instruction in these prefaces, apologies, dialogues and treatises. They
will acknowledge that Dryden's incomparable vigour does not desert him
either in the exposing or in the upholding of fallacies, while _le bon
sens_, which he hardly ever fails to exhibit, and which is a more
eclectic gift than common-sense, serves as a sure guide to the best
intelligence of his age. Even Rymer,[210] usually regarded as having
touched the nadir of dramatic criticism, will be found to be not wholly
without grains of salt. But Restoration tragedy itself must not be
studied by the light of Restoration criticism. So long as any dramatic
power remained in the tragic poets--and it is absent from none of the
chief among them from Dryden to Rowe--the struggle between fashion
(disguised as theory) and instinct (tending in the direction of the
Elizabethan traditions) could never wholly determine itself in favour of
the former.

Lord Orrery, in deference, as he declares, to the expressed tastes of
his sovereign King Charles II. himself, was the first to set up the
standard of _heroic plays_.[211] This new species of tragedy (for such
it professed to be) commended itself by its novel choice of themes, to a
large extent supplied by recent French romance--the _romans de longue
haleine_ of the Scudérys and their contemporaries--and by French plays
treating similar themes. It likewise borrowed from France that garb of
rhyme which the English drama had so long abandoned, and which now
reappeared in the heroic couplet. But the themes which to readers of
novels might seem of their nature inexhaustible could not long suffice
to satisfy the more capricious appetite of theatrical audiences; and the
form, in the application which it was more or less sought to enforce for
it, was doomed to remain an exotic. In conjunction with his
brother-in-law Sir R. Howard,[212] and afterwards more confidently by
himself,[213] Dryden threw the incomparable vigour and brilliancy of his
genius into the scale, which soon rose to the full height of fashionable
popularity. At first he claimed for English tragedy the right to combine
her native inheritance of freedom with these valuable foreign
acquisitions.[214] Nor was he dismayed by the ridicule which the
celebrated burlesque (by the duke of Buckingham and others) of _The
Rehearsal_ (1671) cast upon heroic plays, without discriminating between
them and such other materials for ridicule as the contemporary drama
supplied to its facetious authors, but returned[215] to the defence of a
species which he was himself in the end to abandon.[216] The desire for
change proved stronger than the love of consistency--which in Dryden was
never more than theoretical. After summoning tragedy to rival the
freedom (without disdaining the machinery) of opera--with whose birth
its own revival was as a matter of fact simultaneous--he came to
recognize in characterization the truest secret of the master-spirit of
the Elizabethan drama,[217] and after audaciously, but in one instance
not altogether unhappily, essaying to rival Shakespeare on his own
ground,[218] produced under the influence of the same views at least one
work of striking merit.[219] But he was already growing weary of the
stage itself as well as of the rhymed heroic drama; and, though he put
an end to the species to which he had given temporary vitality, he
failed effectively to point the way to a more legitimate development of
English tragedy. Among the other tragic poets of this period, N. Lee, in
the outward form of his dramas, accommodated his practice to that of
Dryden, with whom he occasionally co-operated as a dramatist, and like
whom he allowed political partisanship to intrude upon the stage.[220]
His rhetorical genius was not devoid of genuine energy, nor is he to be
regarded as a mere imitator. T. Otway, the most gifted tragic poet of
the younger generation contemporary with Dryden, inherited something of
the spirit of the Elizabethan drama; he possessed a real gift of tragic
pathos and melting tenderness; but his genius had a worse alloy than
stageyness, and, though he was often happy in his novel choice of
themes, his most successful efforts fail to satisfy tests supplementary
to that of the stage.[221] Among dramatists who contributed to the vogue
of the "heroic" play may be mentioned J. Bankes, J. Weston, C. Hopkins,
E. Cooke, R. Gould, S. Pordage, T. Rymer and Elkanah Settle. The
productivity of J. Crowne (d. c. 1703)[222] covers part of the earlier
period as well as of the later, to which properly belong T. Southerne, a
writer gifted with much pathetic power, but probably chiefly indebted
for his long-lived popularity to his skill in the discovery of
"sensational" plots; and Lord Lansdowne ("Granville the polite") (c.
1667-1735). Congreve, by virtue of a single long celebrated but not
really remarkable tragedy,[223] and N. Rowe, may be further singled out
from the list of the tragic dramatists of this period, many of whom
were, like their comic contemporaries, mere translators or adapters from
the French. The tragedies of Rowe, whose direct services to the study of
Shakespeare deserve remembrance, indicate with singular distinctness the
transition from the fuller declamatory style of Dryden to the calmer and
thinner manner of Addison.[224] In tragedy (as to a more marked degree
in comedy) the excesses (both of style and subject) of the past period
of the English drama had produced an inevitable reaction; decorum was
asserting its claims on the stage as in society; and French tragedy had
set the example of sacrificing what passion--and what vigour--it
retained in favour of qualities more acceptable to the "reformed" court
of Louis XIV. Addison, in allowing his _Cato_ to take its chance upon
the stage, when a moment of political excitement (April 1713) ensured to
it an extraordinary success, to which no feature in it corresponds,
except an unusual number of lines predestined to become familiar
quotations, unconsciously sealed the doom of English national tragedy.
The "first reasonable English tragedy," as Voltaire called it, had been
produced, and the oscillations of the tragic drama of the Restoration
were at an end.


  Comedy.

English comedy in this period displayed no similar desire to cut itself
off from the native soil, though it freely borrowed the materials for
its plots and many of its figures from Spanish, and afterwards more
generally from French, originals. The spirit of the old romantic comedy
had long since fled; the graceful artificialities of the pastoral drama,
even the light texture of the mask, ill suited the demands of an age
which made no secret to itself of the grossness of its sensuality. With
a few unimportant exceptions, such poetic elements as admitted of being
combined with the poetic drama were absorbed by the opera and the
ballet. No new species of the comic drama formed itself, though towards
the close of the period may be noticed the beginnings of modern English
farce. Political and religious partisanship, generally in accordance
with the dominant reaction against Puritanism, were allowed to find
expression in the directest and coarsest forms upon the stage, and to
hasten the necessity for a more systematic control than even the times
before the Revolution had found requisite. At the same time the
unblushing indecency which the Restoration had spread through court and
capital had established its dominion over the comic stage, corrupting
the manners, and with them the morals, of its dramatists, and forbidding
them, at the risk of seeming dull, to be anything but improper. Much of
this found its way even into the epilogues, which, together with the
prologues, proved so important an adjunct of the Restoration drama.
These influences determine the general character of what is with a more
than chronological meaning termed the comedy of the Restoration. In
construction, the national love of fulness and solidity of dramatic
treatment induced its authors to alter what they borrowed from foreign
sources, adding to complicated Spanish plots characters of native
English directness, and supplementing single French plots by the
addition of others.[225] At the same time, the higher efforts of French
comedy of character, as well as the refinement of expression in the list
of their models, notably in Molière, were alike seasoned to suit the
coarser appetites and grosser palates of English patrons. The English
comic writers often succeeded in strengthening the borrowed texture of
their plays, but they never added comic humour without at the same time
adding coarseness of their own. Such were the productions of Sir George
Etheredge, Sir Charles Sedley, and the "mob of gentlemen who wrote with
ease"; nor was there any signal difference between their productions and
those of a playwright-actor such as J. Lacy (d. 1681), and a
professional dramatist of undoubted ability such as J. Crowne. Such,
though often displaying the brilliancy of a genius which even where it
sank could never wholly abandon its prerogative, were, it must be
confessed, the comedies of Dryden himself. On the other hand, the lowest
literary deeps of the Restoration drama were sounded by T. D'Urfey,
while of its moral degradation the "divine Astraea," the "unspeakable"
Mrs Aphra Behn, has an indefeasible title to be considered the most
faithful representative. T. Shadwell, fated, like the tragic poet
Elkanah Settle, to be chiefly remembered as a victim of Dryden's satire,
deserves more honourable mention. Like J. Wilson, whose plays seem to
class him with the pre-Restoration dramatists, Shadwell had caught
something not only of the art, but also of the spirit, of Ben Jonson;
but in most of his works he was, like the rest of his earlier
contemporaries, and like the brilliant group which succeeded them,
content to take his moral tone from the reckless society for which, or
in deference to the tastes of which, he wrote.[226] The absence of a
moral sense, which, together with a grossness of expression often
defying exaggeration, characterizes English comic dramatists from the
days of Dryden to those of Congreve, is the main cause of their failure
to satisfy the demands which are legitimately to be made upon their art.
They essayed to draw character as well as to paint manners, but they
rarely proved equal to the former and higher task; and, while choosing
the means which most readily commended their plays to the favour of
their immediate public, they achieved but little as interpreters of
those essential distinctions which their art is capable of
illustrating.[227] Within these limits, though occasionally passing
beyond them, and always with the same deference to the immoral tone
which seemed to have become an indispensable adjunct of the comic style,
even the greatest comic authors of this age moved. W. Wycherley was a
comic dramatist of real power, who drew his characters with vigour and
distinctness, and constructed his plots and chose his language with
natural ease. He lacks gaiety of spirit, and his wit is of a cynical
turn. But, while he ruthlessly uncloaks the vices of his age, his own
moral tone is affected by their influence in as marked a degree as that
of the most light-hearted of his contemporaries.[228] The most brilliant
of these was indisputably W. Congreve, who is not only one of the very
wittiest of English writers, but equally excels in the graceful ease of
his dialogue, and draws his characters and constructs his plots with the
same masterly skill. His chief fault as a dramatist is one of
excess--the brilliancy of the dialogue, whoever be the speaker,
overpowers the distinction between the "humours" of his personages.
Though he is less brutal in expression than "manly" Wycherley, and less
coarse than the lively Sir J. Vanbrugh, licentiousness in him as in them
corrupts the spirit of his comic art; but of his best though not most
successful play[229] it must be allowed that the issue of the main plot
is on the side of virtue. G. Farquhar, whose morality is on a par with
that of the other members of this group, is inferior to them in
brilliancy; but as pictures of manners in a wider sphere of life than
that which contemporary comedy usually chose to illustrate, two of his
plays deserve to be noticed, in which we already seem to be entering the
atmosphere of the 18th-century novel.[230] His influence upon Lessing is
a remarkable fact in the international history of dramatic literature.


  Sentimental comedy.

The improvement which now begins to manifest itself in the moral tone
and spirit of English comedy is partly due to the reaction against the
reaction of the Restoration, partly to the punishment which the excesses
of the comic stage had brought upon it in the invective of Jeremy
Collier[231] (1698), of all the assaults the theatre in England has had
to undergo the best-founded, and that which produced the most
perceptible results. The comic poets, who had always been more or less
conscious of their sins, and had at all events not defended them by the
ingenious sophistries which it has pleased later literary criticism to
suggest on their behalf, now began with uneasy merriment to allude in
their prologues to the reformation which had come over the spirit of the
town. Writers like Mrs Centlivre became anxious to reclaim their
offenders with much emphasis in the fifth act; and Colley Cibber--whose
_Apology for his Life_ furnishes a useful view of this and the
subsequent period of the history of the stage, with which he was
connected as author, manager and actor (excelling in this capacity as
representative of those fools with which he peopled the comic
stage)[232]--may be credited with having first deliberately made the
pathetic treatment of a moral sentiment the basis of the action of a
comic drama. But he cannot be said to have consistently pursued the vein
which in his _Careless Husband_ (1704) he had essayed. His _Non-Juror_
is a political adaptation of _Tartuffe_; and his almost equally
celebrated _Provoked Husband_ only supplied a happy ending to Vanbrugh's
unfinished play. Sir R. Steele, in accordance with his general
tendencies as a writer, pursued a still more definite moral purpose in
his comedies; but his genius perhaps lacked the sustained vigour
necessary for a dramatist, and his humour naturally sought the aid of
pathos. From partial[233] he passed to more complete[234] experiment;
and thus these two writers, who transplanted to the comic stage a
tendency towards the treatment of domestic themes noticeable in such
writers of Restoration tragedy as Southerne and Rowe, became the
founders of _sentimental comedy_, a species which exercised a most
depressing influence upon the progress of English drama, and helped to
hasten the decline of its comic branch. With _Cato_ English tragedy
committed suicide, though its pale ghost survived; with _The Conscious
Lovers_ English comedy sank for long into the tearful embraces of
artificiality and weakness.


  The drama and stage in the period before Garrick.

  Garrick.

During the 18th century the productions of dramatic literature were
still as a rule legitimately designed to meet the demands of the stage,
from which its higher efforts afterwards to so large an extent became
dissociated. The goodwill of most sections of the public continued to be
steadily accorded to a theatre which had ceased to defy the accepted
laws and traditions of morality; and the opposition still aroused by it
was confined to a small minority of thinkers, though these included some
who were far from being puritans. John Dennis was not thought to have
the worst of the controversy, when he defended the stage against the
attack of an opponent far above him in stature--the great mystic William
Law[235]--and to John Wesley himself it seemed that "a great deal more
might be said in defence of seeing a serious tragedy" than of taking
part in the amusements of bear-baiting and cock-fighting. On the other
hand, the demands of the stage and those of its patrons and of the
public of the "Augustan" age, and of that which succeeded it, were, in
general, fast bound by the trammels of a taste with which a revival of
the poetic drama long remained irreconcilable. There is every reason to
conclude that the art of acting progressed in the same direction of
artificiality, and became stereotyped in forms corresponding to the
"chant" which represented tragic declamation in a series of actors
ending with Quin and Macklin. In the latter must be recognized features
of a precursor, but it was reserved to the genius of Garrick, whose
theatrical career extended from 1741 to 1776, to open a new era in his
art. His unparalleled success was due in the first instance to his
incomparable natural gifts; yet these were indisputably enhanced by a
careful and continued literary training, and ennobled by a purpose
which prompted him to essay the noblest, as he was capable of performing
the most various, range of English theatrical characters. By devoting
himself as actor and manager with special zeal to the production of
Shakespeare, Garrick permanently popularized on the national stage the
greatest creations of English drama, and indirectly helped to seal the
doom of what survived of the tendency to maintain in the most ambitious
walks of dramatic literature the nerveless traditions of the
pseudo-classical school. A generation of celebrated actors and
actresses, many of whom live for us in the drastic epigrams of
Churchill's _Rosciad_ (1761), were his helpmates or his rivals; but
their fame has paled, while his is destined to endure as that of one of
the typical masters of his art.


  Decline of tragedy.

The contrast between the tragedy of the 18th century and those plays of
Shakespeare and one or two other Elizabethans which already before
Garrick were known to the English stage, was weakened by the mutilated
form in which the old masterpieces generally, if not always, made their
appearance there. Even so, however, there are perhaps few instances in
theatrical history in which so unequal a competition was so long
sustained. In the hands of the tragic poets of the age of Pope, as well
as that of Johnson, tragedy had hopelessly stiffened into the forms of
its accepted French models. Direct reproductions of these continued, as
in Ambrose Philips's and Charles Johnson's (1679-1748) translations from
Racine, and Aaron Hill's from Voltaire. Among other tragic dramatists of
the earlier part of the century may be mentioned J. Hughes, who, after
assisting Addison in his _Cato_, produced at least one praiseworthy
tragedy of his own;[236] E. Fenton, a joint translator of "Pope's
_Homer_" and the author of one extremely successful drama on a theme of
singularly enduring interest,[237] and L. Theobald the first hero of the
_Dunciad_, who, besides translations of Greek dramas, produced a few
more or less original plays, one of which he was daring enough to father
upon Shakespeare.[238] A more distinguished name is that of J. Thomson,
whose unlucky _Sophonisba_ and subsequent tragedies are, however, barely
remembered by the side of his poems (_The Seasons_, &c.). The literary
genius of E. Young, on the other hand, possessed vigour and variety
enough to distinguish his tragedies from the ordinary level of Augustan
plays; in one of them he seems to challenge comparison in the treatment
of his theme with a very different rival,[239] but by his main
characteristics as a dramatist he belongs to the school of his
contemporaries. The endeavour of G. Lillo, in his _London Merchant, or
George Barnwell_ (1731), to bring the tragic lessons of terror and pity
directly home to his fellow-citizens exercised an extraordinarily
widespread as well as enduring effect on the history of the 18th-century
drama. At home, they gave birth to the new, or, more properly speaking,
to the revived, species of domestic tragedy, which connects itself more
or less closely with a notable epoch in the history of English
prose-fiction as well as of English painting. Abroad, this play--whose
success was of the kind which nothing can kill--supplied the text to the
teachings of Diderot, as well as an example to his own dramatic
attempts; and through Diderot the impulse communicated itself to
Lessing, and long exercised a great effect upon the literature of the
German stage. At the same time, it must be allowed that Lillo's
pedestrian muse failed in the end to satisfy higher artistic demands
than those met in his most popular play, while in another[240] she was
less consciously guilty of an aberration towards that "tragedy of
destiny," which, in the modern drama at least, obscures the ethical
character of all tragic actions. "Classical" tragedy in the generation
of Dr Johnson pursued the even tenor of its way, the dictator himself
treading with solemn footfall in the accustomed path,[241] and W. Mason
making the futile attempt to produce a close imitation of Greek
models.[242] The best-remembered tragedy of the century, Home's
_Douglas_ (1757), was the production of an author whose famous kinsman,
David Hume (though no friend of the contemporary English stage), had
advised him "to read Shakespeare, but to get Racine and Voltaire by
heart." The indisputable merits of the play cannot blind us to the fact
that _Douglas_ is the offspring of _Merope_.


  English opera.

While thus no high creative talent arose to revive the poetic genius of
English tragedy, comedy, which had to contend against the same rivals,
naturally met the demands of the conflict with greater buoyancy. The
history of the most formidable of those rivals, Music, forms no part of
this sketch; but the points of contact between its progress and the
history of dramatic literature cannot be altogether left out of sight.
H. Purcell's endeavours to unite English music to the words of English
poets were now a thing of the past; analogous attempts in the direction
of musical dialogue, which have been insufficiently noticed, had
likewise proved transitory; and the isolated efforts of Addison[243] and
others to recover the operatic stage for the native tongue had proved
powerless. Italian texts, which had first made their entrance piecemeal,
in the end asserted themselves in their entirety; and the marvellously
assimilative genius of Handel completed the triumphs of a form of art
which no longer had any connexion with the English drama, and which
reached the height of its fashionable popularity about the time when
Garrick began to adorn the national stage. In one form, however, the
English opera was preserved as a pleasing species of the popular drama.
The pastoral drama had (in 1725) produced an isolated aftergrowth in
Allan Ramsay's _Gentle Shepherd_, which, with genuine freshness and
humour, but without a trace of burlesque, transferred to the scenery of
the Pentland Hills the lovely tale of Florizel and Perdita. The dramatic
form of this poem is only an accident, but it doubtless suggested an
experiment of a different kind to the most playful of London wits. Gay's
"Newgate Pastoral" of _The Beggar's Opera_ (1728), in which the amusing
text of a burlesque farce was interspersed with songs set to popular
airs, caught the fancy of the town by this novel combination, and became
the ancestor of a series of agreeable productions, none of which,
however, not even its own continuation, _Polly_ (amazingly successful in
book form, after its production was forbidden by the lord chamberlain),
have ever rivalled it in success or celebrity. Among these may be
mentioned the pieces of I. Bickerstaffe[244] and C. Dibdin.[245] The
opera in England, as elsewhere, thus absorbed what vitality remained to
the pastoral drama, while to the ballet and the pantomime (whose glories
in England began at Covent Garden in 1733, and to whose popularity even
Garrick was obliged to defer) was left (in the 18th century at all
events) the inheritance of the external attractions of the mask and the
pageant.


  Comedy. Burlesque.

  The Licensing Act.

In the face of such various rivalries it is not strange that comedy,
instead of adhering to the narrow path which Steele and others had
marked out for her, should have permitted herself some vagaries of her
own. Gay's example pointed the way to a fatally facile form of the comic
art; and burlesque began to contribute its influence to the decline of
comedy. In an age when party-government was severely straining the
capabilities of its system, dramatic satire had not far to look for a
source of effective seasonings. The audacity of H. Fielding, whose
regular comedies (original or adapted) have secured no enduring
remembrance, but whose love of parody was afterwards to suggest to him
the theme of the first of the novels which have made his name immortal,
accordingly ventured in two extravaganzas[246] (so we should call them
in these days) upon a larger admixture of political with literary and
other satire. A third attempt[247] (which never reached the stage)
furnished the offended minister, Sir Robert Walpole, with the desired
occasion for placing a curb upon the licence of the theatre, such as
had already been advocated by a representative of its old civic
adversaries. The famous act of 1737 asserted no new principle, but
converted into legal power the customary authority hither exercised by
the lord chamberlain (to whom it had descended from the master of the
revels). The regular censorship which this act established has not
appreciably affected the literary progress of the English drama, and the
objections which have been raised against it seem to have addressed
themselves to practice rather than to principle. The liberty of the
stage is a question differing in its conditions from that of the liberty
of speech in general, or even from that of the liberty of the press; and
occasional lapses of official judgment weigh lightly in the balance
against the obvious advantages of a system which in a free country needs
only the vigilance of public opinion to prevent its abuse. The policy of
the restraint which the act of 1737 put upon the number of playhouses is
a different, but has long become an obsolete, question.[248]


  Comedy in the latter half of the 18th century.

Brought back into its accustomed grooves, English comedy seemed inclined
to leave to farce the domain of healthy ridicule, and to coalesce with
domestic tragedy in the attempt to make the stage a vehicle of homespun
didactic morality. Farce had now become a genuine English species, and
has as such retained its vitality through all the subsequent fortunes of
the stage; it was actively cultivated by Garrick as both actor and
author; and he undoubtedly had more than a hand in the very best farce
of this age, which is ascribed to clerical authorship.[249] S. Foote,
whose comedies[250] and farces are distinguished both by wit and by
variety of characters (though it was an absurd misapplication of a great
name to call him the English Aristophanes), introduced into comic acting
the abuse of personal mimicry, for the exhibition of which he
ingeniously invented a series of entertainments, the parents of a long
progeny of imitations. Meanwhile, the domestic drama of the sentimental
kind achieved, though not immediately, a success only inferior to that
of _The London Merchant_, in _The Gamester_ of E. Moore, to which
Garrick seems to have directly contributed;[251] and sentimental comedy
courted sympathetic applause in the works of A. Murphy, the single
comedy of W. Whitehead,[252] and the earliest of H. Kelly.[153] It
cannot be said that this species was extinguished, as it is sometimes
assumed to have been, by O. Goldsmith; but he certainly published a
direct protest against it between the production of his admirable
character-comedy of _The Good-Natured Man_, and his delightfully brisk
and fresh _She Stoops to Conquer_, which, after startling critical
propriety from its self-conceit, taught comedy no longer to fear being
true to herself. The most successful efforts of the elder G. Colman[254]
had in them something of the spirit of genuine comedy, besides a finish
which, however playwrights may shut their eyes to the fact, is one of
the qualities which ensure a long life to a play. And in the
masterpieces of R. B. Sheridan some of the happiest features of the
comedy of Congreve were revived, together with its too uniform
brilliancy of dialogue, but without its indecency of tone. The varnish
of the age is indeed upon the style, and the hollowness of its morality
in much of the sentiment (even where that sentiment is meant for the
audience) of _The Rivals_ and _The School for Scandal_; but in tact of
construction, in distinctness of characters, and in pungency of social
satire, they are to be ranked among the glories of English comedy.
Something in Sheridan's style, but quite without his brilliancy, is the
most successful play[255] of the unfortunate General Burgoyne. R.
Cumberland, who too consciously endeavoured to excel both in sentimental
morality and in comic characterization, in which he was devoid of depth,
closes the list of authors of higher pretensions who wrote for the
theatre.[256] Like him, Mrs Cowley[257] ("Anna Matilda"), T.
Holcroft,[258] and G. Colman the younger,[259] all writers of popular
comedies, as well as the prolific J. O'Keefe (1746-1833), who
contributed to nearly every species of the comic drama, survived into
the 19th century. To an earlier date belong the favourite burlesques of
O'Keefe's countryman K. O'Hara[260] (d. 1782), good examples of a
species the further history of which may be left aside. In the hands of
at least one later writer, J. R. Planché, it proved capable of
satisfying a more refined taste than his successors have habitually
consulted.


  The English drama of the 19th century.

The decline of dramatic composition of the higher class, perceptible in
the history of the English theatre about the beginning of the 19th
century, was justly attributed by Sir Walter Scott to the wearing out of
the French model that had been so long wrought upon; but when he
asserted that the new impulse which was sought in the dramatic
literature of Germany was derived from some of its worst, instead of
from its noblest, productions--from Kotzebue rather than from Lessing,
Schiller and Goethe--he showed a very imperfect acquaintance with a
complicated literary movement which was obliquely reflected in the
stage-plays of Iffland and his contemporaries. The change which was
coming over English literature was in truth of a wider and deeper nature
than it was possible for even one of its chief representatives to
perceive. As that literature freed itself from the fetters so long worn
by it as indispensable ornaments, and threw aside the veil which had so
long obscured both the full glory of its past and the lofty capabilities
of its future, it could not resort except tentatively to a form which
like the dramatic is bound by a hundred bonds to the life of the age
itself. Soon, the poems with which Scott and Byron, and the unrivalled
prose fictions with which Scott, both satisfied and stimulated the
imaginative demands of the public, diverted the attention of the
cultivated classes from dramatic literature, which was unable to escape,
with the light foot of verse or prose fiction, into "the new, the
romantic land." New themes, new ideas, new forms occupied a new
generation of writers and readers; nor did the drama readily lend itself
as a vessel into which to pour so many fermenting elements. In Byron the
impressions produced upon a mind not less open to impulses from without
than subjective in its way of recasting them, called forth a series of
dramatic attempts betraying a more or less wilful ignorance of the
demands of dramatic compositions; his beautiful _Manfred_, partly
suggested by Goethe's _Faust_, and his powerful _Cain_, have but the
form of plays; his tragedies on Italian historical subjects show some
resemblance in their political rhetoric to the contemporary works of
Alfieri; his _Sardanapalus_, autobiographically interesting, fails to
meet the demands of the stage; his _Werner_ (of which the authorship has
been ascribed to the duchess of Devonshire) is a hastily dramatized
sensation novel. To Coleridge (1772-1834), who gave to English
literature a splendidly loose translation of Schiller's _Wallenstein_,
the same poet's _Robbers_ (to which Wordsworth's only dramatic attempt,
the _Borderers_, is likewise indebted) had probably suggested the
subject of his tragedy of _Osorio_, afterwards acted under the title of
_Remorse_. Far superior to this is his later drama of _Zapolya_, a
genuine homage to Shakespeare, out of the themes of two of whose plays
it is gracefully woven. Scott, who in his earlier days had translated
Goethe's _Götz von Berlichingen_, gained no reputation by his own
dramatic compositions. W. S. Landor, apart from those _Imaginary
Conversations_ upon which he best loved to expend powers of observation
and characterization such as have been given to few playwrights, cast
in a formally dramatic mould studies of character of which the value is
far from being confined to their wealth in beauties of detail. Of these
the magnificent, but in construction altogether undramatic, _Count
Julian_, is the most noteworthy. Shelley's _The Cenci_, on the other
hand, is not only a poem of great beauty, but a drama of true power,
abnormally revolting indeed in theme, but singularly pure and delicate
in treatment. A humbler niche in the temple of dramatic literature
belongs to some of the plays of C. R. Maturin,[261] Sir T. N.
Talfourd,[262] and Dean Milman.[263]

Divorced, except for passing moments, from the stage, English dramatic
literature could during much the greater part of the 19th century hardly
be regarded as a connected national growth; though, already in the last
decades of the Victorian age, the revival of public interest in the
theatre co-operated with a gradual change in poetic taste to awaken the
hope of a future living reunion. Among English poets who lived in this
period, Sir Henry Taylor probably approached nearest to the objective
treatment and the amplitude of style characteristic of the Elizabethan
drama.[264] R. H. Horne, long an almost solitary survivor of the
romantic school, was able in at least one memorable dramatic attempt to
revive something of the early Elizabethan spirit.[265] Of the chief
poets of the age, Tennyson only in his later years addressed himself to
a form of composition little suited to his genius, though the very fact
of the homage paid by him to the national forms of the historic drama
and of romantic comedy could not fail to ennoble the contemporary
stage.[266] Matthew Arnold's stately revival of the traditions of
classical tragedy proper, on the other hand, deliberately excluded
itself from any such contact;[267] while Longfellow's refined literary
culture and graceful facility of form made ready use of a quasi-dramatic
medieval vesture.[268] William Morris's single "morality," too, cannot
be regarded as a contribution to dramatic literature proper.[269] Of
very different importance are the excursions into dramatic composition
of Robert Browning, whose place in the living inheritance of the English
drama has in one instance at least been not unsuccessfully vindicated by
a later age, and some of whose greatest gifts are beyond a doubt
displayed in his dramatic work;[270] and the sustained endeavours of A.
C. Swinburne, after adding a flower of exquisite beauty to the wreath
which the lovers of the Attic muse have laid at her feet, to enrich the
national historic drama by a trilogy instinct with the ardent eloquence
of passion.[271] Until a date too near the times in which we live to
admit of its being fixed with precision, most of the English writers who
sought to preserve a connexion between their dramatic productions and
the demands of the stage addressed themselves to the theatrical rather
than the literary public--for the distinction, in those times at all
events, was by no means without a difference. The modestly simple and
judiciously concentrated efforts of Joanna Baillie deserve a respectful
remembrance in the records of literature as well as of the stage, though
the day has passed when the theory which suggested her _Plays on the
Passions_ could find acceptance among critics, or her exemplifications
of it satisfy the demands of playgoers. Sheridan Knowles, on the other
hand, composed his conventional semblances of genuine tragedy and comedy
with a thorough knowledge of stage effect, and some of them can hardly
yet be said to have vanished from the stage.[272] The first Lord Lytton,
though his plays were for the most part of a lighter texture, showed
even more artificiality of sentiment in their conception and execution;
but the romantic touch which he imparted to at least one of them
accounts for its long-lived popularity. Among later Victorian
playwrights T. W. Robertson brought back a breath of naturalness into
the acted comic drama; Tom Taylor, rivalling Lope in fertility, made
little pretence to original invention, but adapted with an instinct that
rarely failed him, and materially helped to keep the theatrical
diversions of his age sound and pure; an endeavour in which he had the
co-operation of Charles Reade and that of most of those who competed
with them for the favour of generations of playgoers more easily
contented than their successors. The one deplorable aspect of this age
of the English drama was to be found neither in the sphere of tragedy
nor in that of comedy--nor even in that of farce. It was presented in
the low depths of contemporary burlesque, which had degenerated from the
graceful extravaganza of J. R. Planché into witless and tasteless
emptiness.

Curiously enough, it was at this point that something like real
originality--discovering a new sub-species of its own--first began, with
the aid of a sister-art, to renovate the English popular comic stage. At
the beginning of the 19th century the greatest tragic actress of the
English theatre, Mrs Siddons, had passed her prime; and before its
second decade had closed, not only she (1812) but her brother John
Kemble (1817), the representative of a grand style of acting which later
generations might conceivably find overpowering, had withdrawn from the
boards. Mrs Siddons was soon followed into retirement by her successor
Miss O'Neill (1819); while Kemble's brilliant later rival, Edmund Kean,
an actor the intuitions of whose genius seem to have supplied, so far as
intuition ever can supply, the absence of a consecutive self-culture,
remained on the stage till his death in 1833. Young, Macready, and
others handed down some of the traditions of the older school of acting
to the very few artists who remained to suggest its semblance to a later
generation. Even these--among them S. Phelps, whose special merit it was
to present to a later age, accustomed to elaborate theatrical
environments, dramatic masterpieces as dependent upon themselves and
adequate interpretation; and the foremost English actress of the earlier
Victorian age, Helen Faucit (Lady Martin)--were unable to leave a school
of acting behind them. Still less was this possible to Charles Kean the
younger, with whom the decorative production of Shakespearian plays
really had its beginning; or even to Sir Henry Irving, an actor of
genius, but also an irrepressible and almost eccentric theatrical
personality, whose great service to the English drama was his faith in
its masterpieces. The comic stage was fortunate in an ampler
aftergrowth, from generation to generation, of the successors of the old
actors who live for us all in the reminiscences of Charles Lamb; nor
were the links suddenly snapped which bound the humours of the present
to those of the past. In the first decade of the 20th century a
generation still survived which could recall, with many other similar
joys, the brilliant levity of Charles Mathews the younger; the not less
irresistible stolidity of J. B. Buckstone; the solemn fooling of H.
Compton (1805-1877); the subtle humours of J. L. Toole, and the frolic
charm of Marie Wilton (Lady Bancroft), the most original comic actress
of her time. (A. W. W.)

_Recent English Drama._--In England the whole mechanism of theatrical
life had undergone a radical change in the middle decades of the 19th
century. At the root of this change lay the immense growth of population
and the enormously increased facilities of communication between London
and the provinces. Similar causes came into operation, of course, in
France, Germany and Austria, but were much less distinctly felt, because
the numerous and important subventioned theatres of these countries
remained more or less unaffected by economic influences. Free trade in
theatricals (subject only to certain licensing regulations and to a
court censorship of new plays) was established in England by an act of
1843, which abolished the long moribund monopoly of the "legitimate
drama" claimed by the "Patent Theatres" of Drury Lane and Covent Garden.
The drama was thus formally subjected to the operation of the law of
supply and demand, like any other article of commerce, and managers were
left, unaided and unhampered by any subvention or privilege, to cater to
the tastes of a huge and growing community. Theatres very soon
multiplied, competition grew ever keener, and the long run, with its
accompaniments of ostentatious decoration and lavish advertisement,
became the one object of managerial effort. This process of evolution
may be said to have begun in the second quarter of the 19th century and
completed itself in the 3rd. The system which obtains to-day, almost
unforeseen in 1825, was in full operation in 1875. The repertory
theatre, with its constant changes of programme, maintained on the
continent partly by subventions, partly by the mere force of artistic
tradition, had become in England a faint and far-off memory. There was
not a single theatre in London at which plays, old and new, were not
selected and mounted solely with a view to their continuous performance
for as many nights as possible, anything short of fifty nights
constituting an ignominious and probably ruinous failure. It was found,
too, that those theatres were most successful which were devoted
exclusively to exploiting the talent of an individual actor. Thus when
the fourth quarter of the century opened, the long "run" and the
actor-manager were in firm possession of the field.

The outlook was in many ways far from encouraging. It was not quite so
black, indeed, as it had been in the late 'fifties and early 'sixties,
when the "legitimate" enterprises of Phelps at Sadler's Wells and
Charles Kean at the Princess's had failed to hold their ground, and when
modern comedy and drama were represented almost exclusively by
adaptations from the French. There had been a slight stirring of
originality in the series of comedies produced by T. W. Robertson at the
Prince of Wales's theatre, where, under the management of Bancroft
(q.v.) a new school of mounting and acting, minutely faithful (in theory
at any rate) to everyday reality, had come into existence. But the hopes
of a revival of English comedy seemed to have died with Robertson's
death. One of his followers, James Albery, possessed both imagination
and wit, but had not the strength of character to do justice to his
talent, and sank into a mere adapter. In the plays of another disciple,
H. J. Byron, the Robertsonian or "cup-and-saucer" school declined upon
sheer inanity. Of the numerous plays signed by Tom Taylor some were
original in substance, but all were cast in the machine-made French
mould. Wilkie Collins, in dramatizing some of his novels, produced
somewhat crude anticipations of the modern "problem play." The literary
talent of W. S. Gilbert displayed itself in a group of comedies both in
verse and prose; but Gilbert saw life from too peculiar an angle to
represent it otherwise than fantastically. The Robertsonian impulse
seemed to have died utterly away, leaving behind it only five or six
very insubstantial comedies and a subdued, unrhetorical method in
acting. This method the Bancrofts proceeded to apply, during the
'seventies, to revivals of stage classics, such as _The School for
Scandal_, _Money_ and _Masks and Faces_, and to adaptations from the
French of Sardou.

While the modern drama appeared to have relapsed into a comatose
condition, poetic and romantic drama was giving some signs of life. At
the Lyceum in 1871 Henry Irving had leapt into fame by means of his
performance of Mathias in _The Bells_, an adaptation from the French of
Erckmann-Chatrian. He followed this up by an admirably picturesque
performance of the title-part in _Charles I._ by W. G. Wills. In the
autumn of 1874 the great success of Irving's Hamlet was hailed as the
prelude to a revival of tragic acting. As a matter of fact, it was the
prelude to a long series of remarkable achievements in romantic drama
and melodrama. Irving's lack of physical and vocal resources prevented
him from scaling the heights of tragedy, and his Othello, Macbeth, and
Lear could not be ranked among his successes; but he was admirable in
such parts as Richard III., Shylock, Iago and Wolsey, while in
melodramatic parts, such as Louis XI. and the hero and villain of _The
Lyons Mail_, he was unsurpassed. Mephistopheles in a version of _Faust_
(1885), perhaps the greatest popular success of his career, added
nothing to his reputation for artistic intelligence; but on the other
hand his Becket in Tennyson's play of that name (1893) was one of his
most masterly efforts. His management of the Lyceum (1878-1899) did so
much to raise the status of the actor and to restore the prestige of
poetic drama, that the knighthood conferred upon him in 1895 was felt to
be no more than an appropriate recognition of his services. But his
managerial career had scarcely any significance for the living English
drama. He seldom experimented with a new play, and, of the few which he
did produce, only _The Cup_ and _Becket_ by Lord Tennyson have the
remotest chance of being remembered.

To trace the history of the new English drama, then, we must go back to
the Prince of Wales's theatre. Even while it seemed that French comedy
of the school of Scribe was resuming its baneful predominance, the seeds
of a new order of things were slowly germinating. _Diplomacy_, an
adaptation of Sardou's _Dora_, produced in 1878, brought together on the
Prince of Wales's stage Mr and Mrs Bancroft, Mr and Mrs Kendal, John
Clayton and Arthur Cecil--in other words, the future managers of the
Haymarket, the St James's and the Court theatres, which were destined to
see the first real stirrings of a literary revival. Mr and Mrs Kendal,
who, in conjunction with John Hare, managed the St James's theatre from
1879 to 1888, produced A. W. Pinero's first play of any consequence,
_The Money-Spinner_ (1881), and afterwards _The Squire_ (1882) and _The
Hobby Horse_ (1887). The Bancrofts, who, after entirely rebuilding the
Haymarket theatre, managed it from 1880 till their retirement in 1885,
produced in 1883 Pinero's _Lords and Commons_; and Messrs Clayton and
Cecil produced at the Court theatre between 1885 and 1887 his three
brilliant farces, _The Magistrate_, _The Schoolmistress_ and _Dandy
Dick_, which, with the sentimental comedy, _Sweet Lavender_, produced at
Terry's theatre in 1888, assured his position as an original and fertile
dramatic humorist of no small literary power. It is to be noted,
however, that Pinero was almost the only original playwright represented
under the Bancroft, Hare-Kendal and Clayton-Cecil managements, which
relied for the rest upon adaptations and revivals. Adaptations of French
vaudevilles were the staple productions of Charles Wyndham's management
at the Criterion from its beginning in 1876 until 1893, when he first
produced an original play of any importance. When Herbert Beerbohm Tree
went into management at the Haymarket in 1887, he still relied largely
on plays of foreign origin. George Alexander's first managerial ventures
(Avenue theatre, 1890) were two adaptations from the French. Until well
on in the 'eighties, indeed, adaptation from the French was held the
normal occupation of the British playwright, and original composition a
mere episode. Robertson, Byron, Albery, Gilbert, Tom Taylor, Charles
Reade, Herman Merivale, G. W. Godfrey, all produced numerous
adaptations; Sydney Grundy was for twenty years occupied almost
exclusively in this class of work; Pinero himself has adapted more than
one French play. The 'eighties, then, may on the whole be regarded as
showing a very gradual decline in the predominance of France on the
English stage, and an equally slow revival of originality, so far as
comedy and drama were concerned, manifesting itself mainly in the plays
of Pinero.

The reaction against French influence, however, was no less apparent in
the domain of melodrama and operetta than in that of comedy and drama.
Until well on in the 'seventies, D'Ennery and his disciples, adapted and
imitated by Dion Boucicault and others, ruled the melodramatic stage.
The reaction asserted itself in two quarters--in the East End at the
Grecian theatre, and in the West End at the Princess's. In _The World_,
produced at Drury Lane in 1880, Paul Meritt (d. 1895) and Henry Pettitt
(d. 1893) brought to the West End the "Grecian" type of popular drama;
and at Drury Lane it survived in the elaborately spectacular form
imparted to it by Sir Augustus Harris, who managed that theatre from
1879 till his death in 1896. The production of G. R. Sims's _Lights o'
London_ at the Princess's in 1881, under Wilson Barrett's management,
also marked a new departure. This style of melodrama was chiefly
cultivated at the Adelphi theatre, from 1882 until the end of the
century, when it died out there as a regular institution, apparently
because a host of suburban theatres drew away its audiences. Of all
these English melodramas, only one, _The Silver King_, by Henry Arthur
Jones (Princess's, 1882), could for a moment compare in invention or
technical skill with the French dramas they supplanted. The fact
remains, however, that even on this lowest level of dramatic art the
current of the time set decisively towards home-made pictures of English
life, however crude and puerile.

For twenty-five years, from 1865 to 1890, the English stage was overrun
with French operettas of the school of Offenbach. Hastily adapted by
slovenly hacks, their librettos (often witty in the original) became
incredible farragos of metreless doggrel and punning ineptitude. The
great majority of them are now so utterly forgotten that it is hard to
realize how, in their heyday, they swarmed on every hand in London and
the provinces. The reaction began in 1875 with the performance at the
Royalty theatre of _Trial by Jury_, by W. S. Gilbert and Arthur
Sullivan. This was the prelude to that brilliant series of witty and
melodious extravaganzas which began with _The Sorcerer_ at the Opera
Comique theatre in 1877, but was mainly associated with the Savoy
theatre, opened by R. D'Oyly Carte (d. 1901) in 1881. Little by little
the Gilbert and Sullivan operettas (of which the most famous, perhaps,
were _H.M.S. Pinafore_, 1878, _Patience_, 1881, and _The Mikado_, 1885)
undermined the popularity of the French opera-bouffes, and at the same
time that of the indigenous "burlesques" which, graceful enough in the
hands of their inventor J. R. Planché, had become mere incoherent
jumbles of buffoonery, devoid alike of dramatic ingenuity and of
literary form. When, early in the 'nineties, the collaboration between
Gilbert and Sullivan became intermittent, and the vogue of the Savoy
somewhat declined, a new class of extravaganza arose, under the
designation of "musical comedy" or "musical farce." It first took form
in a piece called _In Town_, by Messrs "Adrian Ross" and Osmond Carr
(Prince of Wales's theatre, 1892), and rapidly became very popular. In
these plays the scene and costumes are almost always modern though
sometimes exotic, and the prose dialogue, setting forth an attenuated
and entirely negligible plot, is frequently interrupted by musical
numbers. The lyrics are often very clever pieces of rhyming, totally
different from the inane doggrel of the old opera-bouffes and
burlesques. In other respects there is little to be said for the
literary or intellectual quality of "musical farce"; but, being an
entirely English (or Anglo-American) product, it falls into line with
the other indications we have noted of the general decline--one might
almost say extinction--of French influence on the English stage.

To what causes are we to trace this gradual disuse of adaptation? In the
domain of modern comedy and drama, to two causes acting simultaneously:
the decline in France of the method of Scribe, which produced
"well-made," exportable plays, more or less suited to any climate and
environment; and the rise in England of a generation of playwrights more
original, thoughtful and able than their predecessors. It is not at all
to be taken for granted that the falling off in the supply of exportable
plays meant a decline in the absolute merit of French drama. The
historian of the future may very possibly regard the movement in France,
no less than the movement in England, as a step in advance, and may even
see in the two movements co-ordinate manifestations of one tendency. Be
this as it may, the fact is certain that as the playwrights of the
Second Empire gradually died off, and were succeeded by the authors of
the "new comedy," plays which would bear transplantation became ever
fewer and farther between. Of recent years Henri Bernstein, author of
_Le Voleur_ and _Samson_, has been almost the only French dramatist
whose works have found a ready and steady market in England. Attempts to
acclimatize French poetical drama--_Pour la Couronne_, _Le Chemineau_,
_Cyrano de Bergerac_--were all more or less unsuccessful.

Having noted the decline of adaptation, we may now trace a stage farther
the development of the English drama. The first stage, already surveyed,
ends with the production of _Sweet Lavender_ in 1888. Up to this point
its author, Pinero (b. 1855), stood practically alone, and had won his
chief successes as a humorist. Henry Arthur Jones (b. 1851) was known as
little more than an able melodramatist, though in one play, _Saints and
Sinners_ (1884), he had made some attempt at a serious study of
provincial life. R. C. Carton (b. 1856) had written, in collaboration,
one or two plays of slight account. Sydney Grundy (b. 1848) had produced
scarcely any original work. The second stage may be taken as extending
from 1889 to 1893. On the 24th of April 1889 John Hare opened the new
Garrick theatre with _The Profligate_, by Pinero--an unripe and
superficial piece of work in many ways, but still a great advance, both
in ambition and achievement, upon any original work the stage had seen
for many a year.

With all its faults, it may be said that _The Profligate_ notably
enlarged at one stroke the domain open to the English dramatist. And it
did not stand alone. The same year saw the production of two plays by H.
A. Jones, _Wealth_ and _The Middleman_, in which a distinct effort
towards a serious criticism of life was observable, and of two plays by
Sydney Grundy, _A Fool's Paradise_ and _A White Lie_, which, though very
French in method, were at least original in substance. Jones during the
next two years made a steady advance with _Judah_ (1890), _The Dancing
Girl_ and _The Crusaders_ (1891). Pinero in these years was putting
forth less than his whole strength in _The Cabinet Minister_ (1890),
_Lady Bountiful_ and _The Times_ (1891), and _The Amazons_ (March 1893).
But meanwhile new talents were coming forward. The management of George
Alexander, which opened at the Avenue theatre in 1890, but was
transferred in the following year to the St James's, brought prominently
to the front R. C. Carton, Haddon Chambers and Oscar Wilde. Carton's two
sentimental comedies, _Sunlight and Shadow_ (1890) and _Liberty Hall_
(1892), showed excellent workmanship, but did not yet reveal his true
originality as a humorist. Haddon Chambers's work (notably _The Idler_,
1891) was as yet sufficiently commonplace; but in _Lady Windermere's
Fan_ (1892) Oscar Wilde showed himself at his first attempt a brilliant
and accomplished dramatist. Wilde's subsequent plays, _A Woman of No
Importance_ (1893) and _An Ideal Husband_ and _The Importance of being
Earnest_ (1895), though marred by mannerism and insincerity, did much to
promote the movement we are here tracing.

As the production of _The Profligate_ marked the opening of the second
period in the revival of English drama, so the production of the same
author's _The Second Mrs Tanqueray_ is very clearly the starting-point
of the third period. Before attempting to trace its course we may do
well to glance at certain conditions which probably influenced it.

In the first place, economic conditions. The Bancroft-Robertson movement
at the old Prince of Wales's, between 1865 and 1870, was of even more
importance from an economic than from a literary point of view. By
making their little theatre a luxurious place of resort, and faithfully
imitating in their productions the accent, costume and furniture of
upper and upper-middle class life, the Bancrofts had initiated a
reconciliation between society and the stage. Throughout the middle
decades of the century it was the constant complaint of the managers
that the world of wealth and fashion could not be tempted to the
theatre. The Bancroft management changed all that. It was at the Prince
of Wales's that half-guinea stalls were first introduced; and these
stalls were always filled. As other theatres adopted the same policy of
upholstery, both on and off the stage, fashion extended its complaisance
to them as well. In yet another way the reconciliation was promoted--by
the ever-increasing tendency of young men and women of good birth and
education to seek a career upon the English stage. The theatre, in
short, became at this period one of the favourite amusements of
fashionable (though scarcely of intellectual) society in London. It is
often contended that the influence of the sensual and cynical stall
audience is a pernicious one. In some ways, no doubt, it is detrimental;
but there is another side to the case. Even the cynicism of society
marks an intellectual advance upon the sheer rusticity which prevailed
during the middle years of the 19th century and accepted without a
murmur plays (original and adapted) which bore no sort of relation to
life. In a celebrated essay published in 1879, Matthew Arnold (whose
occasional dramatic criticisms were very influential in intellectual
circles) dwelt on the sufficiently obvious fact that the result of
giving English names and costumes to French characters was to make their
sayings and doings utterly unreal and "fantastic." During the years of
French ascendancy, audiences had quite forgotten that it was possible
for the stage to be other than "fantastic" in this sense. They no
longer thought of comparing the mimic world with the real world, but
were content with what may be called abstract humour and pathos, often
of the crudest quality. The cultivation of external realism, coinciding
with, and in part occasioning, the return of society to the playhouse,
gradually led to a demand for some approach to plausibility in character
and action as well as in costume and decoration. The stage ceased to be
entirely "fantastic," and began to essay, however imperfectly, the
representation, the criticism of life. It cannot be denied that the
influence of society tended to narrow the outlook of English dramatists
and to trivialize their tone of thought. But this was a passing phase of
development; and cleverly trivial representations of reality are, after
all, to be preferred to brainless concoctions of sheer emptiness.

Quite as important, from the economic point of view, as the
reconciliation of society to the stage, was the reorganization of the
mechanism of theatrical life in the provinces which took place between
1865 and 1875. From the Restoration to the middle of the 19th century
the system of "stock companies" had been universal. Every great town in
the three kingdoms had its established theatre with a resident company,
playing the "legitimate" repertory, and competing, often by illegitimate
means, for the possession of new London successes. The smaller towns,
and even villages, were grouped into local "circuits," each served by
one manager with his troupe of strollers. The "circuits" supplied actors
to the resident stock companies, and the stock companies served as
nurseries to the patent theatres in London. Metropolitan "stars"
travelled from one country theatre to another, generally alone,
sometimes with one or two subordinates in their train, and were
"supported," as the phrase went, by the stock company of each theatre.
Under this system, scenery, costumes and appointments were often
grotesquely inadequate, and performances almost always rough and
unfinished. On the other hand, the constant practice in a great number
and variety of characters afforded valuable training for actors, and
developed many remarkable talents. As a source of revenue to authors,
the provinces were practically negligible. Stageright was unprotected by
law; and even if it had been protected, it is doubtful whether authors
could have got any considerable fees out of country managers, whose
precarious ventures usually left them a small enough margin of profit.

The spread of railways throughout the country gradually put an end to
this system. The "circuits" disappeared early in the 'fifties, the stock
companies survived until about the middle of the 'seventies. As soon as
it was found easy to transport whole companies, and even great
quantities of scenery, from theatre to theatre throughout the length and
breadth of Great Britain, it became apparent that the rough makeshifts
of the stock company system were doomed. Here again we can trace to the
old Prince of Wales's theatre the first distinct impulse towards the new
order of things. Robertson's comedies not only encouraged but absolutely
required a style of art, in mounting, stage-management and acting, not
to be found in the country theatres. To entrust them to the stock
companies was well-nigh impossible. On the other hand, to quote Sir
Squire Bancroft, "perhaps no play was ever better suited than _Caste_ to
a travelling company; the parts being few, the scenery and dresses quite
simple, and consequently the expenses very much reduced." In 1867, then,
a company was organized and rehearsed in London to carry round the
provincial theatres as exact a reproduction as possible of the London
performance of _Caste_ and Robertson's other comedies. The smoothness of
the representation, the delicacy of the interplay among the characters,
were new to provincial audiences, and the success was remarkable. About
the same time the whole Haymarket company, under Buckstone's management,
began to make frequent rounds of the country theatres; and other
"touring combinations" were soon organized. It is manifest that the
"combination" system and the stock company system cannot long coexist,
for a manager cannot afford to keep a stock company idle while a London
combination is occupying his theatre. The stock companies, therefore,
soon dwindled away, and were probably quite extinct before the end of
the 'seventies. Under the present system, no sooner is a play an
established success in London than it is reproduced in one, two or three
exact copies and sent round the provincial theatres (and the numerous
suburban theatres which have sprung up since 1895), Company A serving
first-class towns, Company B the second-class towns, and so forth. The
process is very like that of taking plaster casts of a statue, and the
provincial companies often stand to their London originals very much in
the relation of plaster to marble. Even the London scenery is faithfully
reproduced in material of extra strength, to stand the wear-and-tear of
constant removal. The result is that, instead of the square pegs in
round holes of the old stock company system, provincial audiences now
see pegs carefully adjusted to the particular holes they occupy, and
often incapable of fitting any other. Instead of the rough performances
of old, they are now accustomed to performances of a mechanical and
soulless smoothness.

In some ways the gain in this respect is undeniable, in other ways the
loss is great. The provinces are no longer, in any effective sense, a
nursery of fresh talents for the London theatres, for the art acquired
in touring combinations is that of mimicry rather than of acting.
Moreover, provincial playgoers have lost all personal interest and pride
in their local theatres, which have no longer any individuality of their
own, but serve as a mere frame for the presentation of a series of
ready-made London pictures. Christmas pantomime is the only theatrical
product that has any really local flavour in it, and even this is often
only a second-hand London production, touched up with a few topical
allusions. Again, the railways which bring London productions to the
country take country playgoers by the thousand to London. The wealthier
classes, in the Lancashire, Yorkshire and Midland towns at any rate, do
almost all their theatre-going in London, or during the autumn months
when the leading London companies go on tour. Thus the better class of
comedy and drama has a hard fight to maintain itself in the provinces,
and the companies devoted to melodrama and musical farce enjoy an
ominous preponderance of popularity.

On the whole, however--and this is the main point to be observed with
regard to the literary development of the drama--the economic movement
of the five- and twenty years between 1865 and 1890 was enormously to
the advantage of the dramatic author. A London success meant a long
series of full houses at high prices, on which he took a handsome
percentage. The provinces, in which a popular playwright would often
have three or four plays going the rounds simultaneously, became a
steady source of income. And, finally, it was found possible, even
before international copyright came into force, to protect stageright in
the United States, so that about the beginning of the 'eighties large
receipts began to pour in from America. Thus successful dramatists,
instead of living from hand to mouth, like their predecessors of the
previous generation, found themselves in comfortable and even opulent
circumstances. They had leisure for reading, thought and careful
composition, and they could afford to gratify their ambition with an
occasional artistic experiment. Failure might mean a momentary loss of
prestige, but it would not spell ruin. A distinctly progressive spirit,
then, began to animate the leading English dramatists--a spirit which
found intelligent sympathy in such managers as John Hare, George
Alexander, Beerbohm Tree and Charles Wyndham. Nor must it be forgotten
that, though the laws of literary property, internal and international,
remained far from perfect, it was found possible to print and publish
plays without incurring loss of stageright either at home or in America.
The playwrights of the present generation have accordingly a motive for
giving literary form and polish to their work which was quite
inoperative with their predecessors, whose productions were either kept
jealously in manuscript or printed only in miserable and totally
unreadable stage editions. It is no small stimulus to ambition to know
that even if a play prove to be in advance of the standards of taste or
thought among the public to which it is originally presented, it will
not perish utterly, but will, if it have any inherent vitality, continue
to live as literature.


  Influence of foreign drama.

Having now summed up the economic conditions which made for progress,
let us glance at certain intellectual influences which tended in the
same direction. The establishment of the Théâtre Libre in Paris, towards
the close of 1887, unquestionably marked the beginning of a period of
restless experiment throughout the theatrical world of Europe. A.
Antoine and his supporters were in open rebellion against the artificial
methods of Scribe and the Second Empire playwrights. Their effort was to
transfer to the stage the realism, the so-called "naturalism," which had
been dominant in French fiction since 1870 or earlier; and this
naturalism was doubtless, in its turn, the outcome of the scientific
movement of the century. New methods (or ideals) of observation, and new
views as to the history and destiny of the race, could not fail to
produce a profound effect upon art; and though the modern theatre is a
cumbrous contrivance, slow to adjust its orientation to the winds of the
spirit, even it at last began to revolve, like a rusty windmill, so as
to fill its sails in the main current of the intellectual atmosphere.
Within three or four years of its inception, Antoine's experiment had
been imitated in Germany, England and America. The "Freie Bühne" of
Berlin came into existence in 1889, the Independent Theatre of London in
1891. Similar enterprises were set on foot in Munich and other cities.
In America several less formal experiments of a like nature were
attempted, chiefly in Boston and New York. Nor must it be forgotten that
in Paris itself the Théâtre Libre did not stand alone. Many other
_théâtres à côté_ sprang up, under such titles as "Théâtre d'Art,"
"Théâtre Moderne," "Théâtre de l'Avenir Dramatique." The most important
and least ephemeral was the "Théâtre de l'OEuvre," founded in 1893 by
Alex. Lugné-Poë, which represented mainly, though not exclusively, the
symbolist reaction against naturalism.

The impulse which led to the establishment of the Théâtre Libre was, in
the first instance, entirely French. If any foreign influence helped to
shape its course, it was that of the great Russian novelists. Tolstoi's
_Puissance des ténèbres_ was the only "exotic" play announced in
Antoine's opening manifesto. But the whole movement was soon to receive
a potent stimulus from the Norwegian poet Henrik Ibsen.

Ibsen's early romantic plays had been known in Germany since 1875. In
1878 _Pillars of Society_ and in 1880 _A Doll's House_ achieved wide
popularity, and held the German stage side by side with _A Bankruptcy_,
by Björnstjerne Björnson. But these plays had little influence on the
German drama. Their methods were, indeed, not essentially different from
those of the French school of the Second Empire, which were then
dominant in Germany as well as everywhere else. It was _Ghosts_ (acted
in Augsburg and Meiningen 1886, in Berlin 1887) that gave the impulse
which, coalescing with the kindred impulse from the French Théâtre
Libre, was destined in the course of a few years to create a new
dramatic literature in Germany. During the middle decades of the century
Germany had produced some dramatists of solid and even remarkable
talent, such as Friedrich Hebbel, Heinrich Laube, Karl Gutzkow and
Gustav Freytag. Even the generation which held the stage after 1870, and
included Paul Heyse, Paul Lindau and Adolf Wilbrandt, with numerous
writers of light comedy and farce, such as E. Wichert, O. Blumenthal, G.
von Moser, A. L'Arronge and F. von Schönthan, had produced a good many
works of some merit. But, in the main, French artificiality and
frivolity predominated on the German stage. In point of native talent
and originality, the Austrian popular playwright Ludwig Anzengruber was
well ahead of his North German contemporaries. It was in 1889, with the
establishment of the Berlin Freie Bühne, that the reaction definitely
set in. In Berlin, as afterwards in London, _Ghosts_ was the first play
produced on the outpost stage, but it was followed in Berlin by a very
rapid development of native talent. Less than a month after the
performance of Ibsen's play, Gerhart Hauptmann came to the front with
_Vor Sonnenaufgang_, an immature piece of almost unrelieved Zolaism,
which he soon followed up, however, with much more important works. In
_Das Friedensfest_ (1890) and _Einsame Menschen_ (1891) he transferred
his allegiance from Zola to Ibsen. His true originality first manifested
itself in _Die Weber_ (1892); and subsequently he produced plays in
several different styles, all bearing the stamp of a potent
individuality. His most popular productions have been the dramatic poems
_Hannele_ and _Die versunkene Glocke_, the low-life comedy _Der
Biberpelz_, and the low-life tragedy _Fuhrmann Henschel_. Other
remarkable playwrights belonging to the Freie Bühne group are Max Halbe
(b. 1865), author of _Jugend_ and _Mutter Erde_, and Otto Erich
Hartleben (b. 1864), author of _Hanna Jagert_ and _Rosenmontag_. These
young men, however, so quickly gained the ear of the general public,
that the need for a special "free stage" was no longer felt, and the
Freie Bühne, having done its work, ceased to exist. Unlike the French
Théâtre Libre and the English Independent theatre, it had been supported
from the outset by the most influential critics, and had won the day
almost without a battle. The productions of the new school soon made
their way even into some of the subventioned theatres; but it was the
unsubventioned Deutsches Theater of Berlin that most vigorously
continued the tradition of the Freie Bühne. One or two playwrights of
the new generation, however, did not actually belong to the Freie Bühne
group. Hermann Sudermann produced his first play, _Die Ehre_, in 1888,
and his most famous work, _Heimat_, in 1892. In him the influence of
Ibsen is very clearly perceptible; while Arthur Schnitzler of Vienna,
author of _Liebelei_, may rather be said to derive his inspiration from
the Parisian "new comedy." Originality, verging sometimes on
abnormality, distinguishes the work of Frank Wedekind (b. 1864), author
of _Erdgeist_ and _Frühlingserwachen_. Hugo von Hofmannsthal (b. 1874),
in his _Elektra_ and _Ödipus_, rehandles classic themes in the light of
modern anthropology and psychology.

The promoters of the Théâtre Libre had probably never heard of Ibsen
when they established that institution, but three years later his fame
had reached France, and _Les Revenants_ was produced by the Théâtre
Libre (29th May 1890). Within the next two or three years almost all his
modern plays were acted in Paris, most of them either by the Théâtre
Libre or by L'OEuvre. Close upon the heels of the Ibsen influence
followed another, less potent, but by no means negligible. The exquisite
tragic symbolism of Maurice Maeterlinck began to find numerous admirers
about 1890. In 1891 his one-act play _L'Intruse_ was acted; in 1893,
_Pelléas et Mélisande_. By this time, too, the reverberation of the
impulse which the Théâtre Libre had given to the Freie Bühne began to be
felt in France. In 1893 Hauptmann's _Die Weber_ was acted in Paris, and,
being frequently repeated, made a deep and lasting impression.

The English analogue to the Théâtre Libre, the Independent theatre,
opened its first season (March 13, 1891) with a performance of _Ghosts_.
This was not, however, the first introduction of Ibsen to the English
stage. On the 7th of June 1889 (six weeks after the production of _The
Profligate_) _A Doll's House_ was acted at the Novelty theatre, and ran
for three weeks, amid a storm of critical controversy. In the same year
_Pillars of Society_ was presented in London. In 1891 and 1892 _A Doll's
House_ was frequently acted; _Rosmersholm_ was produced in 1891, and
again in 1893; in May and June 1891 _Hedda Gabler_ had a run of several
weeks; and early in 1893 _The Master Builder_ enjoyed a similar passing
vogue. During these years, then, Ibsen was very much "in the air" in
England, as well as in France and Germany. The Independent theatre, in
the meantime, under the management of J. T. Grein, found but scanty
material to deal with. It presented translations of Zola's _Thérèse
Raquin_, and of _A Visit_, by the Danish dramatist Edward Brandes; but
it brought to the front only one English author of any note, in the
person of George Bernard Shaw, whose "didactic realistic play,"
_Widowers' Houses_, it produced in December 1892.

None the less is it true that the ferment of fresh energy, which between
1887 and 1893 had created a new dramatic literature both in France and
in Germany, was distinctly felt in England as well. England did not take
at all kindly to it. The productions of Ibsen's plays, in particular,
were received with an outcry of reprobation. A great part of this
clamour was due to sheer misunderstanding; but some of it, no doubt,
arose from genuine and deep-seated distaste. As for the dramatists of
recognized standing, they one and all, both from policy and from
conviction, adopted a hostile attitude towards Ibsen, expressing at most
a theoretical respect overborne by practical dislike. Yet his influence
permeated the atmosphere. He had revealed possibilities of technical
stagecraft and psychological delineation that, once realized, were not
to be banished from the mind of the thoughtful playwright. They haunted
him in spite of himself. Still subtler was the influence exerted over
the critics and the more intelligent public. Deeply and genuinely as
many of them disliked Ibsen's works, they found, when they returned to
the old-fashioned play, the adapted frivolity or the homegrown
sentimentalism, that they disliked this still more. On every side, then,
there was an instinctive or deliberate reaching forward towards
something new; and once again it was Pinero who ventured the decisive
step.

On the 27th of May 1893 _The Second Mrs Tanqueray_ was produced at the
St James's theatre. With _The Second Mrs Tanqueray_ the English acted
drama ceased to be a merely insular product, and took rank in the
literature of Europe. Here was a play which, whatever its faults, was
obviously comparable with the plays of Dumas, of Sudermann, of Björnson,
of Echegaray. It might be better than some of these plays, worse than
others; but it stood on the same artistic level. The fact that such a
play could not only be produced, but could brilliantly succeed, on the
London stage gave a potent stimulus to progress. It encouraged ambition
in authors, enterprise in managers. What _Hernani_ was to the romantic
movement of the 'thirties, and _La Dame aux camélias_ to the realistic
movement of the 'fifties, _The Second Mrs Tanqueray_ was to the movement
of the 'nineties towards the serious stage-portraiture of English social
life. All the forces which we have been tracing--Robertsonian realism of
externals, the leisure for thought and experiment involved in vastly
improved financial conditions, the substitution in France of a simpler,
subtler technique for the outworn artifices of the Scribe school, and
the electric thrill communicated to the whole theatrical life of Europe
by contact with the genius of Ibsen--all these slowly converging forces
coalesced to produce, in _The Second Mrs Tanqueray_, an epoch-marking
play.

Pinero followed up _Mrs Tanqueray_ with a remarkable series of
plays--_The Notorious Mrs Ebbsmith_, _The Benefit of the Doubt_, _The
Princess and the Butterfly_, _Trelawny of the "Wells_," _The Gay Lord
Quex_, _Iris_, _Letty_, _His House in Order_ and _The Thunderbolt_--all
of which show marked originality of conception and intellectual force.
In January 1893 Charles Wyndham initiated a new policy at the Criterion
theatre, and produced an original play, _The Bauble-Shop_, by Henry
Arthur Jones. It belonged very distinctly to the pre-Tanqueray order of
things; but the same author's _The Case of Rebellious Susan_, in the
following year, showed an almost startlingly sudden access of talent,
which was well maintained in such later works as _Michael and his Lost
Angel_ (1896), that admirable comedy _The Liars_ (1897), and _Mrs Dane's
Defence_ (1900). Sydney Grundy produced after 1893 by far his most
important original works, _The Greatest of These_ (1896) and _The Debt
of Honour_ (1900). R. C. Carton, breaking away from the somewhat
laboured sentimentalism of his earlier manner, produced several light
comedies of thoroughly original humour and of excellent literary
workmanship--_Lord and Lady Algy_, _Wheels within Wheels_, _Lady
Huntworth's Experiment_, _Mr Hopkinson_ and _Mr Preedy and the
Countess_. Haddon Chambers, in _The Tyranny of Tears_ (1899) and _The
Awakening_ (1901), produced two plays of a merit scarcely foreshadowed
in his earlier efforts.

What was of more importance, a new generation of playwrights came to the
front. Its most notable representatives were J. M. Barrie, who displayed
his inexhaustible gift of humorous observation and invention in _Quality
Street_ (1902), _The Admirable Crichton_ (1903), _Little Mary_ (1903),
_Peter Pan_ (1904), _Alice Sit-by-the-Fire_ (1905) and _What Every Woman
Knows_ (1908); Mrs Craigie ("John Oliver Hobbes"), who produced in _The
Ambassador_ (1898) a comedy of fine accomplishment; and H. V. Esmond,
Alfred Sutro, Hubert Henry Davies, W. S. Maugham, Rudolf Besier, Roy
Horniman and J. B. Fagan.

Meanwhile, the efforts to relieve the drama from the pressure of the
long-run system had not been confined to the Independent theatre.
Several other enterprises of a like nature had proved more or less
short-lived; but the Stage Society, founded in 1900, was conducted with
more energy and perseverance, and became a real force in the dramatic
world. After two seasons devoted mainly to Bernard Shaw, Ibsen,
Maeterlinck and Hauptmann, it produced in its third season _The Marrying
of Ann Leete_, by Granville Barker (b. 1877), who had developed in its
service his remarkable gifts as a producer of plays. A year or two
later, Barker staged for another organization, the New Century theatre,
Professor Gilbert Murray's rendering of the _Hippolytus_ of Euripides;
and it was partly the success of this production that suggested the
Vedrenne-Barker partnership at the Court theatre, which, between 1904
and 1907, gave an extraordinary impulse to the intellectual life of the
theatre. Adopting the "short-run" system, as a compromise between the
long-run and the repertory systems, the Vedrenne-Barker management made
the plays of Bernard Shaw (both old and new) for the first time really
popular. Of the plays already published _You Never Can Tell_ and _Man
and Superman_ were the most successful; of the new plays, _John Bull's
Other Island_, _Major Barbara_ and _The Doctor's Dilemma_. But though
Shaw was the mainstay of the enterprise, it gave opportunities to
several other writers, the most notable being John Galsworthy (b. 1867),
author of _The Silver Box_ and _Strife_, St John Hankin (1869-1909),
author of _The Return of the Prodigal_ and _The Charity that began at
Home_, and Granville Barker himself, whose plays _The Voysey
Inheritance_ and _Waste_ (1907) were among the most important products
of this movement. It should also be noted that the production of the
_Hippolytus_ was followed up by the production of the _Trojan Women_,
the _Electra_ and the _Medea_ of Euripides, all translated by Gilbert
Murray.

The impulse to which were due the Independent theatre, the Stage Society
and the Vedrenne-Barker management, combined with local influences to
bring about the foundation in Dublin of the Irish National theatre. Its
moving spirit was the poet W. B. Yeats (b. 1865), who wrote for it
_Cathleen-ni-Hoolihan_, _The Hour-Glass_, _The King's Threshold_ and one
or two other plays. Lady Gregory, Padraic Collum, Boyle and other
authors also contributed to the repertory of this admirable little
theatre; but its most notable products were the plays of J. M. Synge
(1871-1909), whose _Riders to the Sea_, _Well of the Saints_ and
_Playboy of the Western World_ showed a fine and original dramatic
faculty combined with extraordinary beauty of style.

Both in Manchester and in Glasgow endeavours have been made, with
considerable success, to counteract the evils of the touring system, by
the establishment of resident companies acting the better class of
modern plays on a "short-run" plan, similar to that of the
Vedrenne-Barker management. The Manchester enterprise was to some extent
subsidized by Miss E. Horniman, and may therefore claim to be the first
endowed theatre in England. The need for endowment on a much larger
scale was, however, strongly advocated in the early years of the 20th
century by the more progressive supporters of English drama, and in 1908
found a place in the scheme for a Shakespeare National theatre, which
was then superimposed on the earlier proposal for a memorial
commemorating the Shakespeare tercentenary, organized by an influential
committee under the chairmanship of the Lord Mayor of London. The scheme
involved the raising of £500,000, half to be devoted to the requisite
site and building, while the remainder would be invested so as to
furnish an annual subvention.

It remains to say a few words of the English literary drama, as opposed
to the acted drama. The two classes are not nearly so distinct as they
once were; but plays continue to be produced from time to time which are
wholly unfitted for the theatre, and others which, though they may be
experimentally placed on the stage, make their appeal rather to the
reading public. Tennyson had essayed in his old age an art which is
scarcely to be mastered after the energy of youth has passed. He
continued to the last to occupy himself more or less with drama, and all
his plays, except _Harold_, found their way to the stage. _The Cup_ and
_Becket_, as we have seen, met with a certain success, but _The Promise
of May_ (1882), an essay in contemporary drama, was a disastrous
failure, while _The Falcon_ (1879) and _The Foresters_ (acted by an
American company in 1893) made little impression. Lord Tennyson was
certainly not lacking in dramatic faculty, but he worked in an outworn
form which he had no longer the strength to renovate. Swinburne
continued now and then to cast his creations in the dramatic mould, but
it cannot be said that his dramas attained either the vitality or the
popularity of his lyrical poems. _Mary Stuart_ (1881) brought his Marian
trilogy to a close. In _Locrine_ he produced a tragedy in heroic
couplets--a thing probably unattempted since the age of Dryden. _The
Sisters_ is a tragedy of modern date with a medieval drama inserted by
way of interlude. _Rosamund, Queen of the Lombards_ (1899), perhaps
approached more nearly than any of his former works to the concentration
essential to drama. It may be doubted, however, whether his copious and
ebullient style could ever really subject itself to the trammels of
dramatic form. Of other dramas on the Elizabethan model, the most
notable, perhaps, were the works of two ladies who adopt the pseudonym
of "Michael Field"; _Callirrhoë_ (1884), _Brutus Ultor_ (1887), and many
other dramas, show considerable power of imagination and expression, but
are burdened by a deliberate artificiality both of technique and style.
Alfred Austin put forth several volumes in dramatic form, such as
_Savonarola_ (1881), _Prince Lucifer_ (1887), _England's Darling_
(1896), _Flodden Field_ (1905). They are laudable in intention and
fluent in utterance. Notable additions to the purely literary drama were
made by Robert Bridges in his _Prometheus_ (1883), _Nero_ (1885), _The
Feast of Bacchus_ (1889), and other solid plays in verse, full of
science and skill, but less charming than his lyrical poems. Sir Lewis
Morris made a dramatic experiment in _Gycia_, but was not encouraged to
repeat it.

From the outset of his career, John Davidson (1857-1909) was haunted by
the conviction that he was a born dramatist; but his earlier plays, such
as _Smith: a Tragedy_ (1886), _Bruce: a Chronicle Play_ (1884) and
_Scaramouch in Naxos_ (1888), contained more poetry than drama; and his
later pieces, such as _Self's the Man_ (1901), _The Theatrocrat_ (1905)
and the _Triumph of Mammon_ (1907), showed a species of turbulent
imagination, but became more and more fantastic and impracticable.
Stephen Phillips (b. 1867), on the other hand, having had some
experience as an actor, wrote always with the stage in view. In his
first play, _Paolo and Francesca_ (1899; produced in 1902), he succeeded
in combining great beauty of diction with intense dramatic power and
vitality. The same may be said of _Herod_ (1900); but in _Ulysses_
(1902) and _Nero_ (1906) a great falling-off in constructive power was
only partially redeemed by the fine inspiration of individual passages.

The collaboration of Robert Louis Stevenson with William Ernest Henley
produced a short series of interesting experiments in drama, two of
which, _Beau Austin_ (1883) and _Admiral Guinea_ (1884), had more than a
merely experimental value. The former was an emotional comedy, treating
with rare distinction of touch a difficult, almost an impossible,
subject; the latter was a nautical melodrama, raised by force of
imagination and diction into the region of literature. Incomparably the
most important of recent additions to the literary drama is Thomas
Hardy's vast panorama of the Napoleonic wars, entitled _The Dynasts_
(1904-1908). It is rather an epic in dialogue than a play; but however
we may classify it we cannot but recognize its extraordinary
intellectual and imaginative powers.

_United States._--American dramatists have shown on their own account a
progressive tendency, quite as marked as that which we have been tracing
in England. Down to about 1890 the influence of France had been even
more predominant in America than in England. The only American dramatist
of eminence, Bronson Howard (1842-1908), was a disciple, though a very
able one, of the French school. A certain stirring of native
originality manifested itself during the 'eighties, when a series of
semi-improvised farces, associated with the names of two actor-managers,
Harrigan and Hart, depicted low life in New York with real observation,
though in a crude and formless manner. About the same time a native
style of popular melodrama began to make its appearance--a play of
conventional and negligible plot, which attracted by reason of one or
more faithfully observed character-types, generally taken from country
life. _The Old Homestead_, written by Denman Thompson, who himself acted
in it, was the most popular play of this class. Rude as it was, it
distinctly foreshadowed that faithfulness to the external aspects, at
any rate, of everyday life, in which lies the strength of the native
American drama. It was at a sort of free theatre in Boston that James A.
Herne (1840-1901) produced in 1891 his realistic drama of modern life,
_Margaret Fleming_, which did a great deal to awaken the interest of
literary America in the theatrical movement. Herne, an actor and a most
accomplished stage-manager, next produced a drama of rural life in New
England, _Shore Acres_ (1892), which made an immense popular success. It
was a play of the _Old Homestead_ type, but very much more coherent and
artistic. His next play, _Griffith Davenport_ (1898), founded on a
novel, was a drama of life in Virginia during the Civil War, admirable
in its strength and quiet sincerity; while in his last work, _Sag
Harbour_ (1900), Herne returned to the study of rustic character, this
time in Long Island. Herne showed human nature in its more obvious and
straightforward aspects, making no attempt at psychological subtlety;
but within his own limits he was an admirable craftsman. The same
preoccupation with local colour is manifest in the plays of Augustus M.
Thomas, a writer of genuine humour and originality. His localism
announces itself in the very titles of his most popular
plays--_Alabama_, _In Mizzoura_, _Arizona_. He also made a striking
success in _The Witching Hour_, a play dealing with the phenomena of
hypnotism and suggestion. Clyde Fitch (1865-1909), an immensely prolific
playwright of indubitable ability, after becoming known by some
experiments in quasi-historic drama (notably _Nathan Hale_, 1898;
_Barbara Frietchie_, 1899), devoted himself mainly to social drama on
the French model, in which his most notable efforts have been _The
Climbers_ (1900), _The Truth_ (1906), and _The Girl with the Green Eyes_
(1902). In popular drama, with elaborate scenic illustration, William
Gillette (b. 1856), David Belasco (b. 1859) and Charles Klein (b. 1867)
have done notable work. William Vaughn Moody (b. 1869) produced in _The
Great Divide_ (1907) a play of somewhat higher artistic pretensions;
Eugene Walter in _Paid in Full_ (1908) and _The Easiest Way_ (1909)
dealt vigorously with characteristic themes of modern life; and Edward
Sheldon produced in _Salvation Nell_ a slum drama of very striking
realism. The poetic side of drama was mainly represented by Percy
Mackaye (b. 1875), whose _Jeanne d'Arc_ (1906) and _Sappho and Phaon_
showed a high ambition and no small literary power. On the whole it may
be said that, though the financial conditions of the American stage are
even more unfortunate than those which prevail in England, they have
failed to check a very strong movement towards nationalism in drama.
Season by season, America writes more of her own plays, good or bad, and
becomes less dependent on imported work, whether French or English. (W.
A.)


(g) _German Drama._

The history of the German drama differs widely from that of the English,
though a close contact is observable between them at an early point, and
again at relatively recent points, in their annals. The dramatic
literature of Germany, though in its beginnings intimately connected
with the great national movement of the Reformation, soon devoted its
efforts to a sterile imitation of foreign models; while the popular
stage, persistently suiting itself to a robust but gross taste, likewise
largely due to the influence of foreign examples, seemed destined to a
hopeless decay. The literary and the acted drama were thus estranged
from one another during a period of extraordinary length; nor was it
till the middle of the 18th century that, with the opening of a more
hopeful era for the life and literature of the nation, the reunion of
dramatic literature and the stage began to accomplish itself. Before the
end of the same century the progress of the German drama in its turn
began to influence that of other nations, and by the widely
comprehensive character of its literature, as well as by the activity of
its stage, to invite a steadily increasing interest.


  The Latin drama in Germany.

  The Jesuit drama.

It should be premised that in its beginnings the modern German drama
might have seemed likely to be influenced even more largely than the
English or the French by the copious imitation of classical models which
marked the periods of the Renaissance and the Reformation; but here the
impulse of originality was wanting to bring about a speedy and gradually
a complete emancipation, and imitative reproduction continued in an all
but endless series. The first German (and indeed the earliest
transalpine) writer to follow in the footsteps of the modern Latin drama
of the Italians was the famous Strassburg humanist Jacob Wimpheling
(1450-1528), whose comedy of _Stylpho_ (1480), an attack upon the
ignorance of the pluralist beneficed clergy, marks a kind of epoch in
the history of German dramatic effort. It was succeeded by many other
Latin plays of various kinds, among which may be mentioned J.
Kerckmeister's _Codrus_ (1485), satirizing pedantic schoolmasters; a
series of historical dramas in a moralizing vein, partly on the Turkish
peril, as well as of comedies, by Jacob Locher (1471-1528); two plays by
the great Johann Reuchlin, of which the so-called _Henno_ went through
more than thirty editions; and the _Ludus Dianae_, with another play
likewise in honour of the emperor Maximilian I., by the celebrated
Viennese scholar Conrad Celtes (1459-1508). Sebastian Brant's _Hercules
in Bivio_ (1512) is lost; but Wilibald Pirckheimer's _Eckius dedolatus_
(1520) survives as a dramatic contribution to Luther's controversy with
one of his most active opponents. The _Acolastus_ (1525) of W. Gnaphaeus
(_alias_ Fullonius, his native name was de Volder) should also be
mentioned in the present connexion, as, though a Dutchman by birth, he
spent most of his literary life in Germany. This Terentian version of
the parable of the Prodigal Son was printed in an almost endless number
of editions, as well as in various versions in modern tongues, among
which reference has already been made to the English, for the use of
schools, by J. Palsgrave (1540). Macropedius (Langhveldt) belongs wholly
to the Low Countries. In Germany the stream of these compositions
continued to flow almost without abatement throughout the earlier half
of the 16th century; but in the days of the Reformation it takes a turn
to scriptural subjects, and during the latter part of the century
remains on the whole faithful to this preference.[273] These Latin plays
may be called school-dramas in the most precise sense; for they were
both performed in the schools and read in class with commentaries
specially composed for them; nor was it except very reluctantly that in
this age the vernacular drama was allowed to intrude into scholastic
circles. It should be noticed that the Jesuit order, which afterwards
proved so keenly alive to the influence which dramatic performances
exercise over the youthful mind, only very gradually abandoned the
principle, formally sanctioned in their _Ratio studiorum_, that the
acting of plays (these being always in the Latin tongue) should only
rarely be permitted in their seminaries. The flourishing period of the
Jesuit drama begins with the spread of the order in the west and
south-west of the Empire in the last decade of the 16th century, and
then continues, through the vicissitudes of good and evil, with a
curious intermixture of Latin and German plays, during the whole of the
17th and the better part of the 18th. These productions, which ranged in
their subjects from biblical and classical story to themes of
contemporary history (such as the relief of Vienna by Sobiesky and the
peace of Ryswick), seem generally to bear the mark of their
authorship--that of teachers appointed by their superiors to execute
this among other tasks allotted to them; but, as it seems unnecessary to
return to this special growth, it may be added that the extraordinary
productiveness of the Jesuit dramatists, and the steadiness of
self-repetition which is equally characteristic of them, should warn us
against underrating its influence upon a considerable proportion of the
nation's educational life during a long succession of generations.


  Beginnings of the vernacular German drama.

  Hans Sachs.

  The English comedians.

  Separation between the stage and literature.

While the scholars of the German Renaissance, who became so largely the
agents of the Reformation, eagerly dramatized scriptural subjects in the
Latin, and sometimes (as in the case of Luther's protégé P. Rebhun[274])
in the native tongue, the same influence made itself felt in another
sphere of dramatic activity. Towards the close of the middle ages, as
has been seen, dramatic performances had in Germany, as in England,
largely fallen into the hands of the civic gilds, and the composition of
plays was more especially cultivated by the master-singers of Nuremberg
and other towns. It was thus that, under the influence of the
Reformation, and of the impulse given by Luther and others to the use of
High German as the popular literary tongue, Hans Sachs, the immortal
shoemaker of Nuremberg, seemed destined to become the father of the
popular German drama. In his plays, "spiritual," "secular," and
_Fastnachtsspiele_ alike, the interest indeed lies in the dialogue
rather than in the action, nor do they display any attempt at
development of character. In their subjects, whether derived from
Scripture or from popular legend and fiction,[275] there is no novelty,
and in their treatment no originality. But the healthy vigour and fresh
humour of this marvellously fertile author, and his innate sympathy with
the views and sentiments of the burgher class to which he belonged, were
elements of genuine promise--a promise which the event was signally to
disappoint. Though the manner of Hans Sachs found a few followers, and
is recognizable in the German popular drama even of the beginning of the
17th century, the literature of the Reformation, of which his works may
claim to form part, was soon absorbed in labours of a very different
kind. The stage, after admitting novelties introduced from Italy or
(under Jesuit supervision) from Spain, was subjected to another and
enduring influence. Among the foreign actors of various nations who
flitted through the innumerable courts of the empire, or found a
temporary home there, special prominence was acquired, towards the close
of the 16th and in the early years of the 17th century, by the "English
comedians," who appeared at Cassel, Wolfenbuttel, Berlin, Dresden,
Cologne, &c. Through these players a number of early English dramas
found their way into Germany, where they were performed in more or less
imperfect versions, and called forth imitations by native authors. Duke
Henry Julius of Brunswick-Luneburg[276] (1564-1613) and Jacob Ayrer (a
citizen of Nuremberg, where he died, 1605) represent the endeavours of
the early German drama to suit its still uncouth forms to themes
suggested by English examples; and in their works, and in those of
contemporary playwrights, there reappears no small part of what we may
conclude to have been the "English comedians'" _répertoire_.[277] (The
converse influence of German themes brought home with them by the
English actors, or set in motion by their strolling ubiquity, cannot
have been equal in extent, though Shakespeare himself may have derived
the idea of one of his plots[278] from such a source). But, though
welcome to both princes and people, the exertions of these foreign
comedians, and of the native imitators who soon arose in the earliest
professional companies of actors known in Germany, instead of bringing
about a union between the stage and literature, led to a directly
opposite result. The popularity of these strollers was owing partly to
the (very real) blood and other horrors with which their plays were
deluged, partly to the buffoonery with which they seasoned, and the
various tricks and feats with which they diversified, their
performances. The representatives of the English clowns had learnt much
on their way from their brethren in the Netherlands, where in this
period the art of grotesque acting greatly flourished. Nor were the aids
of other arts neglected,--to this day in Germany professors of the
"equestrian drama" are known by the popular appellation of "English
riders." From these true descendants of the mimes, then, the
professional actors in Germany inherited a variety of tricks and
traditions; and soon the favourite figures of the popular comic stage
became conventional, and were stereotyped by the use of masks. Among
these an acknowledged supremacy was acquired by the native _Hans Wurst_
(Jack Pudding)--of whose name Luther disavowed the invention, and who is
known already to Hans Sachs--the privileged buffoon, and for a long
series of generations the real lord and master, of the German stage. If
that stage, with its grossness and ribaldry, seemed likely to become
permanently estranged from the tastes and sympathies of the educated
classes, the fault was by no means entirely its own and that of its
patron the populace. The times were evil times for a national effort of
any kind; and poetic literature was in all its branches passing into the
hands of scholars who were often pedants, and whose language was a
jargon of learned affectations. Thus things continued, till the awful
visitation of the Thirty Years' War cast a general blight upon the
national life, and the traditions of the popular theatre were left to
the guardianship of the marionettes (_Puppenspiele_)!


  The literary drama of the 17th century.

When, in the midst of that war, German poets once more began to essay
the dramatic form, the national drama was left outside their range of
vision. M. Opitz, who holds an honoured place in the history of the
German language and literature, in this branch of his labours contented
himself with translations of classical dramas and of Italian
pastorals--among the latter one of Rinuccini's _Daphne_, with which the
history of the opera in Germany begins. A. Gryphius, though as a comic
dramatist lacking neither vigour nor variety, and acquainted with
Shakespearian[279] as well as Latin and Italian examples, chiefly
devoted himself to the imitation of Latin, earlier French, and Dutch
tragedy, the rhetorical dialogue of which he effectively reproduced in
the Alexandrine metre.[280] Neither the turgid dramas of D. C. von
Lohenstein (1665-1684), for whose _Cleopatra_ the honour of having been
the first German tragedy has been claimed, nor even the much healthier
comedies of Chr. Weise (1642-1708) were brought upon the stage; while
the religious plays of J. Klay (1616-1656) are mere recitations
connected with the Italian growth of the _oratorio_. The frigid
allegories commemorative of contemporary events, with which the learned
from time to time supplied the theatre, and the pastoral dramas with
which the idyllic poets of Nuremberg--"the shepherds of the
Pegnitz"--after the close of the war gratified the peaceful longings of
their fellow-citizens, were alike mere scholastic efforts. These indeed
continued in the universities and _gymnasia_ to keep alive the love of
both dramatic composition and dramatic representation, and to encourage
the theatrical taste which led so many students into the professional
companies. But neither these dramatic exercises nor the _ludi Caesarei_
in which the Jesuits at Vienna revived the pomp and pageantry, and the
mixture of classical and Christian symbolism, of the Italian
Renaissance, had any influence upon the progress of the popular drama.


  The stage before its reform.

The history of the German stage remains to about the second decennium of
the 18th century one of the most melancholy, as it is in its way one of
the most instructive, chapters of theatrical history. Ignored by the
world of letters, the actors in return deliberately sought to emancipate
their art from all dependence upon literary material. Improvisation
reigned supreme, not only in farce, where _Hans Wurst_, with the aid of
Italian examples, never ceased to charm his public, but in the serious
drama likewise (in which, however, he also played his part) in those
_Haupt- und Staatsactionen_ (high-matter-of-state-dramas), the plots of
which were taken from the old stores of the English comedians, from the
religious drama and its sources, and from the profane history of all
times. The hero of this period is "Magister" J. Velthen (or Veltheim),
who at the head of a company of players for a time entered the service
of the Saxon court, and, by reproducing comedies of Molière and other
writers, sought to restrain the licence which he had himself carried
beyond all earlier precedent, but who had to fall back into the old ways
and the old life. His career exhibits the climax of the efforts of the
art of acting to stand alone; after his death (c. 1693) chaos ensues.
The strolling companies, which now included actresses, continued to
foster the popular love of the stage, and even under its most degraded
form to uphold its national character against the rivalry of the opera,
and that of the Italian _commedia dell' arte_. From the latter was
borrowed Harlequin, with whom _Hans Wurst_ was blended, and who became a
standing figure in every kind of popular play.[281] He established his
sway more especially at Vienna, where from about 1712 the first
permanent German theatre was maintained. But for the actors in general
there was little permanence, and amidst miseries of all sorts, and under
the growing ban of clerical intolerance, the popular stage seemed
destined to hopeless decay. A certain vitality of growth seems, under
clerical guidance, to have characterized the plays of the people in
Bavaria and parts of Austria.


  F. K. Neuber, Gottsched, and the Leipzig school.

  Ekhof

The first endeavours to reform what had thus apparently passed beyond
all reach of recovery were neither wholly nor generally successful; but
this does not diminish the honour due to two names which should never be
mentioned without respect in connexion with the history of the drama.
Friederike Karoline Neuber's (1697-1760) biography is the story of a
long-continued effort which, notwithstanding errors and weaknesses, and
though, so far as her personal fortunes were concerned, it ended in
failure, may almost be described as heroic. As directress of a company
of actors which from 1727 had its headquarters at Leipzig (hence the new
school of acting is called the Leipzig school), she resolved to put an
end to the formlessness of the existing stage, to separate tragedy and
comedy, and to extinguish Harlequin. In this endeavour she was supported
by the Leipzig professor J. Chr. Gottsched, who induced her to establish
French tragedy and comedy as the sole models of the regular drama.
Literature and the stage thus for the first time joined hands, and no
temporary mischance or personal misunderstanding can obscure the
enduring significance of the union. Not only were the abuses of a
century swept away from a representative theatre, but a large number of
literary works, designed for the stage, were produced on it. It is true
that they were but versions or imitations from the French (or in the
case of Gottsched's _Dying Cato_ from the French and English),[282] and
that at the moment of the regeneration of the German drama new fetters
were thus imposed upon it, and upon the art of acting at the same time.
But the impulse had been given, and the beginning made. On the one hand,
men of letters began to subject their dramatic compositions to the test
of performance; the tragedies and comedies of J. E. Schlegel, the
artificial and sentimental comedies of Chr. F. Gellert and others,
together with the vigorous popular comedies of the Danish dramatist
Holberg, were brought into competition with translations from the
French. On the other hand, the Leipzig school exercised a continuous
effect upon the progress of the art of acting, and before long K. Ekhof
began a career which made his art a fit subject for the critical study
of scholars, and his profession one to be esteemed by honourable men.


  Lessing.

Among the authors contributing to Mme. Neuber's Leipzig enterprise had
been a young student destined to complete, after a very different
fashion and with very different aims, the work which she and Gottsched
had begun. The critical genius of G. E. Lessing is peerless in its
comprehensiveness, as in its keenness and depth; but if there was any
branch of literature and art which by study and practice he made
pre-eminently his own, it was that of the drama. As bearing upon the
progress of the German theatre, his services to its literature, both
critical and creative, can only be described as inestimable. The
_Hamburgische Dramaturgie_, a series of criticisms of plays and (in its
earlier numbers) of actors, was undertaken in furtherance of the attempt
to establish at Hamburg the first national German theatre (1767-1769).
This fact alone would invest these papers with a high significance; for,
though the theatrical enterprise proved abortive, it established the
principle upon which the progress of the theatre in all countries
depends--that for the dramatic art the immediate theatrical public is no
sufficient court of appeal. But the direct effect of the _Dramaturgie_
was to complete the task which Lessing had in previous writings begun,
and to overthrow the dominion of the arbitrary French rules and the
French models established by Gottsched. Lessing vindicated its real laws
to the drama, made clear the difference between the Greeks and their
would-be representatives, and established the claims of Shakespeare as
the modern master of both tragedy and comedy. His own dramatic
productivity was cautious, tentative, progressive. His first step was,
by his _Miss Sara Sampson_ (1755), to oppose the realism of the English
domestic drama to the artificiality of the accepted French models, in
the forms of which Chr. F. Weisse (1726-1804) was seeking to treat the
subjects of Shakespearian plays.[283] Then, in his _Minna von Barnhelm_
(1767), which owed something to Farquhar, he essayed a national comedy
drawn from real life, and appealing to patriotic sentiments as well as
to broad human sympathies. It was written in prose (like _Miss Sara
Sampson_), but in form held a judicious mean between French and English
examples.


  Efforts of the theatre and of literature.

The note sounded by the criticisms of Lessing met with a ready response,
and the productivity displayed by the nascent dramatic literature of
Germany is astonishing, both in the efforts inspired by his teachings
and in those which continued to controvert or which aspired to transcend
them. On the stage, Harlequin and his surroundings proved by no means
easy to suppress, more especially at Vienna, the favourite home of
frivolous amusement; but even here a reform was gradually effected, and,
under the intelligent rule of the emperor Joseph II., a national stage
grew into being. The mantle of Ekhof fell upon the shoulders of his
eager younger rival, F. L. Schröder, who was the first to domesticate
Shakespeare upon the German stage. In dramatic literature few of
Lessing's earlier contemporaries produced any works of permanent value,
unless the religious dramas of F. G. Klopstock--a species in which he
had been preceded by J. J. Bodmer--and the patriotic _Bardietten_ of the
same author be excepted. S. Gessner, J. W. L. Gleim, and G. K. Pfeffel
(1736-1809) composed pastoral plays. But a far more potent stimulus
prompted the efforts of the younger generation. The translation of
Shakespeare, begun in 1762 by C. M. Wieland, whose own plays possess no
special significance, and completed in 1775 by Eschenburg, which
furnished the text for many of Lessing's criticisms, helps to mark an
epoch in German literature. Under the influence of Shakespeare, or of
their conceptions of his genius, arose a youthful group of writers who,
while worshipping their idol as the representative of nature, displayed
but slight anxiety to harmonize their imitations of him with the demands
of art. The notorious _Ugolino_ of H. W. von Gerstenberg seemed a
premonitory sign that the coming flood might merely rush back to the
extravagances and horrors of the old popular stage; and it was with a
sense of this danger in prospect that Lessing in his third important
drama, the prose tragedy _Emilia Galotti_ (1772), set the example of a
work of incomparable nicety in its adaptation of means to end. But
successful as it proved, it could not stay the excesses of the _Sturm
und Drang_ period which now set in. Lessing's last drama, _Nathan der
Weise_ (1779), was not measured to the standard of the contemporary
stage; but it was to exercise its influence in the progress of time--not
only by causing a reaction in tragedy from prose to blank verse (first
essayed in J. W. von Brawe's _Brutus_, 1770), but by ennobling and
elevating by its moral and intellectual grandeur the branch of
literature to which in form it belongs.


  The Sturm und Drang.

Meanwhile the young geniuses of the _Sturm und Drang_ had gone forth, as
worshippers rather than followers of Shakespeare, to conquer new worlds.
The name of this group of writers, more remarkable for their collective
significance than for their individual achievements, was derived from a
drama by one of the most prolific of their number, M. F. von
Klinger;[284] other members of the fraternity were J. A. Leisewitz[285]
(1752-1806), M. R. Lenz[286] and F. Müller[287] the "painter." The
youthful genius of the greatest of German poets was itself under the
influences of this period, when it produced the first of its
masterpieces. But Goethe's _Götz von Berlichingen_ (1773), both by the
choice and treatment of its national theme, and by the incomparable
freshness and originality of its style, holds a position of its own in
German dramatic literature. Though its defiant irregularity of form
prevented its complete success upon the stage, yet its influence is far
from being represented by the series of mostly feeble imitations to
which it gave rise. The _Ritterdramen_ (plays of chivalry) had their day
like similar fashions in drama or romance; but the permanent effect of
_Götz_ was, that it crushed as with an iron hand the last remnants of
theatrical conventionality (those of costume and scenery included), and
extinguished with them the lingering respect for rules and traditions of
dramatic composition which even Lessing had treated with consideration.
Its highest significance, however, lies in its having been the first
great dramatic work of a great national poet, and having definitively
associated the national drama with the poetic glories of the national
literature.


  Goethe.

  Schiller.

Thus, in the classical period of that literature, of which Goethe and
Schiller were the ruling stars, the drama had a full share of the
loftiest of its achievements. Of these, the dramatic works of Goethe
vary so widely in form and character, and connect themselves so
intimately with the different phases of the development of his own
self-directed poetic genius, that it was impossible for any of them to
become the starting-points of any general growths in the history of the
German drama. His way of composition was, moreover, so peculiar to
himself--conception often preceding execution by many years, part being
added to part under the influence of new sentiments and ideas and views
of art, flexibly followed by changes of form--that the history of his
dramas cannot be severed from his general poetic and personal biography.
His _Clavigo_ and _Stella_, which succeeded _Götz_, are domestic dramas
in prose; but neither by these, nor by the series of charming pastorals
and operas which he composed for the Weimar court, could any influence
be exercised upon the progress of the national drama. In the first
conception of his _Faust_, he had indeed sought the suggestion of his
theme partly in popular legend, partly in a domestic motive familiar to
the authors of the _Sturm und Drang_ (the story of Gretchen); the later
additions to the First Part, and the Second Part generally, are the
results of metaphysical and critical studies and meditations belonging
to wholly different spheres of thought and experience. The dramatic
unity of the whole is thus, at the most, external only; and the standard
of judgment to be applied to this wondrous poem is not one of dramatic
criticism. _Egmont_, originally designed as a companion to _Götz_, was
not completed till many years later; there are few dramas more effective
in parts, but the idea of a historic play is lost in the elaboration of
the most graceful of love episodes. In _Iphigenia_ and _Tasso_, Goethe
exhibited the perfection of form of which his classical period had
enabled him to acquire the mastery; but the sphere of the action of the
former (perfect though it is as a dramatic action), and the nature of
that of the latter, are equally remote from the demands of the popular
stage. Schiller's genius, unlike Goethe's, was naturally and
consistently suited to the claims of the theatre. His juvenile works,
_The Robbers_, _Fiesco_, _Kabale und Liebe_, vibrating under the
influence of an age of social revolution, combined in their prose form
the truthful expression of passion with a considerable admixture of
extravagance. But, with true insight into the demands of his art, and
with unequalled single-mindedness and self-devotion to it, Schiller
gradually emancipated himself from his earlier style; and with his
earliest tragedy in verse, _Don Carlos_, the first period of his
dramatic authorship ends, and the promise of the second announces
itself. The works which belong to this--from the _Wallenstein_ trilogy
to _Tell_--are the acknowledged masterpieces of the German poetic drama,
treating historic themes reconstructed by conscious dramatic
workmanship, and clothing their dialogue in a noble vestment of
rhetorical verse. The plays of Schiller are the living embodiment of the
theory of tragedy elaborated by Hegel, according to which its proper
theme is the divine, or, in other words, the moving ethical, element in
human action. In one of his later plays, _The Bride of Messina_,
Schiller attempted a new use of the chorus of Greek tragedy; but the
endeavour was a splendid error, and destined to exercise no lasting
effect. The reaction against Schiller's ascendancy began with writers
who could not reconcile themselves with the cosmopolitan and
non-national elements in his genius, and is still represented by eminent
critics; but the future must be left to settle the contention.


  The popular stage.

Schiller's later dramas had gradually conquered the stage, over which
his juvenile works had in this time triumphantly passed, but on which
his _Don Carlos_ had met with a cold welcome. For a long time, however,
its favourites were authors of a very different order, who suited
themselves to the demands of a public tolerably indifferent to the
literary progress of the drama. After popular tastes had oscillated
between the imitators of _Gotz_ and those of _Emilia Galotti_, they
entered into a more settled phase, as the establishment of standing
theatres at the courts and in the large towns increased the demand for
good "acting" plays. Famous actors, such as Schröder and A. W. Iffland,
sought by translations or compositions of their own to meet the popular
likings, which largely took the direction of that irrepressible
favourite of theatrical audiences, the sentimental domestic drama.[288]
But the most successful purveyor of such wares was an author who, though
not himself an actor, understood the theatre with a professional
instinct--August von Kotzebue. His productivity ranged from the domestic
drama and comedy of all kinds to attempts to rival Schiller and
Shakespeare in verse; and though his popularity (which ultimately proved
his doom) brought upon him the bitterest attacks of the romantic school
and other literary authorities, his self-conceit is not astonishing, and
the time has come for saying that there is some exaggeration in the
contempt which has been lavished upon him by posterity.[289] Nor should
it be forgotten that German literature had so far failed to furnish the
comic stage with any successors to _Minna von Barnhelm_; for Goethe's
efforts to dramatize characteristic events or figures of the
Revolutionary age[290] must be dismissed as failures, not from a
theatrical point of view only. The joint efforts of Goethe and Schiller
for the Weimar stage, important in many respects for the history of the
German drama, at the same time reveal the want of a national dramatic
literature sufficient to supply the needs of a theatre endeavouring to
satisfy the demands of art.


  The romantic school.

Meanwhile the so-called romantic school of German literature was
likewise beginning to extend its labours to original dramatic
composition. From the universality of sympathies proclaimed by this
school, to whose leaders Germany owed its classical translation of
Shakespeare,[291] and an introduction to the dramatic literatures of so
many ages and nations,[292] a variety of new dramatic impulses might be
expected; while much might be hoped for the future of the national drama
(especially in its mixed and comic species) from the alliance between
poetry and real life which they preached, and which some of them sought
personally to exemplify. But in practice universality presented itself
as peculiarity or even as eccentricity; and in the end the divorce
between poetry and real life was announced as authoritatively as their
union had been. Outside this school, the youthful talent of Th. Körner,
whose early promise as a dramatist[293] might perhaps have ripened into
a fulness enabling him not unworthily to occupy the seat left vacant by
his father's friend Schiller, was extinguished by a patriotic death. The
efforts of M. von Collin (1779-1824) in the direction of the historical
drama remained isolated attempts. But of the leaders of the romantic
school, A. W.[294] and F. von Schlegel[295] contented themselves with
frigid classicalities; and L. Tieck, in the strange alembic of his
_Phantasus_, melted legend and fairy-tale, novel and drama,[296] poetry
and satire, into a compound, enjoyable indeed, but hardly so in its
entirety, or in many of its parts, to any but the literary mind.


  Later dramatists.

F. de La Motte Fouqué infused a spirit of poetry into the chivalry
drama. Klemens Brentano was a fantastic dramatist unsuited to the stage.
Here a feeble outgrowth of the romanticists, the "destiny dramatists" Z.
Werner[297]--the most original of the group--A. Müllner,[298] and Baron
C. E. v. Houwald,[299] achieved a temporary _furore_; and it was with an
attempt in the same direction[300] that the Austrian dramatist F.
Grillparzer began his long career. He is assuredly, what he pronounced
himself to be, the foremost of the later dramatic poets of Germany,
unless that tribute be thought due to the genius of H. von Kleist, who
in his short life produced, besides other works, a romantic drama[301]
and a rustic comedy[302] of genuine merit, and an historical tragedy of
singular originality and power.[303] Grillparzer's long series of plays
includes poetic dramas on classical themes[304] and historical subjects
from Austrian history,[305] or treated from an Austrian point of view.
The romantic school, which through Tieck had satirized the drama of the
_bourgeoisie_ and its offshoots, was in its turn satirized by Count A.
von Platen-Hallermund's admirable imitations of Aristophanic
comedy.[306] Among the objects of his banter were the popular playwright
E. Raupach, and K. Immermann, a true poet, who is, however, less
generally remembered as a dramatist. F. Hebbel[307] is justly ranked
high among the foremost later dramatic poets of his country, few of whom
equal him in intensity. The eminent lyrical (especially ballad) poet L.
Uhland left behind him a large number of dramatic fragments, but little
or nothing really complete. Other names of literary mark are those of C.
D. Grabbe, J. Mosen, O. Ludwig[308] (1813-1865), a dramatist of great
power, and "F. Halm" (Baron von Münch-Bellinghausen) (1806-1871), and,
among writers of a more modern school, K. Gutzkow,[309] G.
Freytag,[310] and H. Laube.[311] L. Anzengruber, a writer of real genius
though restricted range, imparted a new significance to the Austrian
popular drama,[312] formerly so commonplace in the hands of F. Raimund
and J. Nestroy.


  The German stage of the latter half of the 19th century.

During the long period of transition which may be said to have ended
with the establishment of the new German empire, the German stage in
some measure anticipated the developments which more spacious times were
to witness in the German drama. The traditions of the national theatre
contemporary with the great epoch of the national literature were kept
alive by a succession of eminent actors--such as the nephews of Ludwig
Devrient, himself an artist of the greatest originality, whose most
conspicuous success, though nature had fitted him for Shakespeare, was
achieved in Schiller's earliest play.[313] Among the younger generation
of Devrients the most striking personality was that of Emil; his elder
brother Karl August, husband of Wilhelmine Schröder-Devrient, the
brilliant star of the operatic stage, and their son Friedrich, were also
popular actors; yet another brother, Eduard, is more widely remembered
as the historian of the German stage. Partly by reason of the number and
variety of its centres of intellectual and artistic life, Germany was
long enabled both to cherish the few masterpieces of its own drama, and,
with the aid of a language well adapted for translation, to give
admittance to the dramatic masterpieces of other nations also, and to
Shakespeare in particular, without going far in the search for
theatrical novelty or effect. But a change came over the spirit of
German theatrical management with the endeavours of H. Laube, from about
the middle of the century onwards, at Vienna (and Leipzig), which
avowedly placed the demands of the theatre as such above those of
literary merit or even of national sentiment. In a less combative
spirit, F. Dingelstedt, both at Munich, which under King Maximilian he
had made a kindly nurse of German culture, and, after his efforts there
had come to an untimely end,[314] at Weimar and at Vienna, raised the
theatre to a very high level of artistic achievement. The most memorable
event in the annals of his managements was the production on the Weimar
stage of the series of Shakespeare's _histories_. At a rather later
period, of which the height extended from 1874 to 1890, the company of
actors in the service, and under the personal direction, of Duke George
of Saxe-Meiningen, created a great effect by their performances both in
and outside Germany--not so much by their artistic improvements in
scenery and decoration, as by the extraordinary perfection of their
_ensemble_. But no dramaturgic achievement in the century could compare
in grandeur either of conception or of execution with Richard Wagner's
Bayreuth performances, where, for the first time in the history of the
modern stage, the artistic instinct ruled supreme in all the conditions
of the work and its presentment. Though the _Ring of the Nibelungs_ and
its successors belong to opera rather than drama proper, the importance
of their production (1876) should be overlooked by no student of the
dramatic art. Potent as has been the influence of foreign dramatic
literatures--whether French or Scandinavian--and that of a movement
which has been common to them all, and from which the German was perhaps
the least likely to exclude itself, the most notable feature in the
recent history of the German drama has been its quick response to wholly
new demands, which, though the attempt was made with some persistence,
could no longer be met without an effort to span the widths and sound
the depths of a more spacious and more self-conscious era.[315]


h. _Dutch Drama._

Among other modern European dramas the Dutch is interesting both in its
beginnings, which to all intents and purposes form part of those of the
German, and because of the special influence of the so-called chambers
of the _rederykers_ (rhetoricians), from the early years of the 15th
century onwards, which bear some resemblance to the associations of the
master-singers in contemporary higher Germany. The earliest of their
efforts, which so effectively tempered the despotism of both church and
state, seem to have been of a dramatic kind; and a manifold variety of
allegories, moralities and comic entertainments (_esbatementen_ or
comedies, _kluiten_ and _factien_ or farces) enhanced the attractions of
those popular pageants in which the Netherlands surpassed all other
countries of the North. The Low Countries responded more largely to the
impulse of the Renaissance than, with some local exceptions, any other
of the Germanic lands. They necessarily had a considerable share in the
cultivation of the modern Latin drama; and, while the author of
_Acolastus_ may be claimed as its own by the country of his adoption as
well as by that of his birth, G. M. Macropedius (Langhveldt) (c.
1475-1508), who may be regarded as the foremost Latin dramatist of his
age, was born and died at Hertogenbosch or in its immediate vicinity.
Macropedius, who belonged to the fraternity of the Common Life, was a
writer of great realistic power as well as of remarkable literary
versatility.[316] The art of acting flourished in the Low Countries even
during the troubles of the great revolt; but the birth of the regular
drama was delayed till the advent of quieter times. Dutch dramatic
literature begins, under the influence of the classical studies
cherished in the seats of learning founded before and after the close of
the war, with the classical tragedies of S. Koster (c. 1585-c. 1650).
The romantic dramas and farces of Gerbrand Bredero (1585-1618) and the
tragedies of P. Hooft (1581-1647) belong to the same period; but its
foremost dramatic poet was J. van den Vondel, who from an imitation of
classical models passed to more original forms of dramatic composition,
including a patriotic play and a dramatic treatment of part of what was
to form the theme of _Paradise Lost_.[317] But Vondel had no successor
of equal mark. The older form of Dutch tragedy--in which the chorus
still appeared--was, especially under the influence of the critic A.
Pels, exchanged for a close imitation of the French models, Corneille
and Racine; nor was the attempt to create a national comedy successful.
Thus no national Dutch drama was permanently called into life.


i. _Scandinavian Drama._

  Denmark.

  The modern Norwegian drama.

Still more distinctly, the dramatic literature of the Scandinavian
peoples springs from foreign growths. In Denmark, where the beginnings
of the drama in the plays of the schoolmaster Chr. Hansen recall the
mixture of religious and farcical elements in contemporary German
efforts, the drama in the latter half of the 16th century remained
essentially scholastic, and treated scriptural or classical subjects,
chiefly in the Latin tongue. J. Ranch (1539-1607) and H. S. Sthen were
authors of this type. But often in the course of the 17th century,
German and French had become the tongues of Danish literature and of the
Danish theatre; in the 18th Denmark could boast a comic dramatist of
thorough originality and of a wholly national cast. L. Holberg, one of
the most noteworthy comic poets of modern literature, not only marks an
epoch in the dramatic literature of his native land, but he contributed
to overthrow the trivialities of the German stage in its worst period,
which he satirized with merciless humour,[318] and set an example, never
surpassed, of a series of comedies[319] deriving their types from
popular life and ridiculing with healthy directness those vices and
follies which are the proper theme of the most widely effective species
of the comic drama. Among his followers, P. A. Heiberg is specially
noted. Under the influence of the Romantic school, whose influence has
nowhere proved so long-lived as in the Scandinavian north, A.
Ohlenschläger began a new era of Danish literature. His productivity,
which belongs partly to his native and partly to German literary
history, turned from foreign[320] to native themes; and other writers
followed him in his endeavours to revive the figures of Northern heroic
legend. But these themes have in their turn given way in the
Scandinavian theatre to subjects coming nearer home to the popular
consciousness, and treated with a direct appeal to the common experience
of human life, and with a searching insight into the actual motives of
human action. The most remarkable movement to be noted in the history of
the Scandinavian drama, and one of the most widely effective of those
which mark the more recent history of the Western drama in general, had
its origin in Norway. Two Norwegian dramatists, H. Ibsen and Björnsterne
Björnson, standing as it were side by side, though by no means always
judging eye to eye, have vitally influenced the whole course of modern
dramatic literature in the direction of a fearlessly candid and close
delineation of human nature. The lesser of the pair in inventive genius,
and in the power of exhibiting with scornful defiance the conflict
between soul and circumstance, but the stronger by virtue of the
conviction of hope which lies at the root of achievement, is
Björnson.[321] Ibsen's long career as a dramatist exhibits a succession
of many changes, but at no point any failure in the self-trust of his
genius. His early masterpieces were dramatic only in form.[322] His
world-drama of _Emperor and Galilean_ was still unsuited to a stage
rarely trodden to much purpose by idealists of Julian's type. The
beginnings of his real and revolutionary significance as a dramatist
date from the production of his first plays of contemporary life, the
admirable satirical comedy _The Pillars of Society_ (1877), the subtle
domestic drama _A Doll's House_ (1879), and the powerful but repellent
_Ghosts_ (1881),[323] which last, with the effects of its appearance,
modern dramatic literature may even to this day be said to have failed
altogether to assimilate. Ibsen's later prose comedies--(verse, he
writes, has immensely damaged the art of acting, and a tragedy in
iambics belongs to the species Dodo)--for the most part written during
an exile which accounts for the note of isolation so audible in many of
them, succeeded one another at regular biennial intervals, growing more
and more abrupt in form, cruel in method, and intense in elemental
dramatic force. The prophet at last spoke to a listening world, but
without the amplitude, the grace and the wholeheartedness which are
necessary for subduing it. But it may be long before the art which he
had chosen as the vehicle of his comments on human life and society
altogether ceases to show the impress of his genius.


j. _Drama of the Slav Peoples._

  Polish.

As to the history of the Slav drama, only a few hints can be here given.
Its origins have not yet--at least in works accessible to Western
students--been authoritatively traced. The Russian drama in its earliest
or religious beginnings is stated to have been introduced from Poland
early in the 12th century; and, again, it would seem that, when the
influence of the Renaissance touched the east of Europe, the religious
drama was cultivated in Poland in the 16th, but did not find its way
into Russia till the 17th century. It is probable that the species was,
like so many other elements of culture, imported into the Carpathian
lands in the 15th or 16th century from Germany. How far indigenous
growths, such as the Russian popular puppet-show called _vertep_, which
about the middle of the 17th century began to treat secular and popular
themes, helped to foster dramatic tendencies and tastes, cannot here be
estimated. The regular drama of eastern Europe is to all intents and
purposes of Western origin. Thus, the history of the Polish drama may be
fairly dated as beginning with the reign of the last king of Poland,
Stanislaus II. Augustus, who in 1765 solemnly opened a national theatre
at Warsaw. This institution was carried on till the fatal year 1794, and
saw the production of a considerable number of Polish plays, mostly
translated or adapted, but in part original--as in the case of one or
two of those from the active pen of the secretary to the educational
commission, Zablonski. But it was not till after the last partition
that, paradoxically though not wholly out of accordance with the history
of the relations between political and literary history, the attempts of
W. Bogulawski and J. N. Kaminski to establish and carry on a Polish
national theatre were crowned with success. Its literary mainstay was a
gifted Franco-Pole, Count Alexander Fredro (1793-1876), who in the
period between the Napoleonic revival and the long exodus fathered a
long-lived species of modern Polish comedy, French in origin (for Fredro
was a true disciple of Molière), and wholly out of contact with the
sentiment that survived in the ashes of a doomed nation.[324] His
complaint as to the exiguity of the Polish literary public--a brace of
theatres and a bookseller's handcart--may have been premature; but a
national drama was most certainly impossible in a denationalised and
dismembered land, in whose historic capital the theatre in which Polish
plays continued to be produced seemed garrisoned by Cossack officers.


  Russian.

Much in the same way, though with a characteristic difference, the
Russian regular drama had its origin in the cadet corps at St
Petersburg, a pupil of which, A. Sumarokov (1718-1777), has been
regarded as the founder of the modern Russian theatre. As a tragic poet
he seems to have imitated Racine and Voltaire, though treating themes
from the national history, among others the famous dramatic subject of
the False Demetrius. He also translated _Hamlet_. As a comic dramatist
he is stated to have been less popular than as a tragedian; yet it is in
comedy that he would seem to have had the most noteworthy successors.
Among these it is impossible to pass by the empress Catherine II., whose
comedies seem to have been satirical sketches of the follies and foibles
of her subjects, and who in one comedy as well as in a tragedy had the
courage to imitate Shakespeare. Comedy aiming at social satire long
continued to temper the conditions of Russian society, and had
representatives of mark in such writers as A. N. Ostrovsky of Moscow and
Griboyedov, the author of _Gore et uma_.

In any survey of the Slav drama that of the Czech peoples, whose
national consciousness has so fully reawakened, must not be overlooked.
A Czech theatre was called into life at Prague as early as the 18th
century; and in the 19th its demands, centring in a sense of
nationality, were met by J. N. Stepinek (1783-1844), W. C. Klicpera
(1792-1859) and J. C. Tyl (1808-1856); and later writers continued to
make use of the stage for a propaganda of historical as well as
political significance.

  BIBLIOGRAPHY.--The following works treat the general theory of the
  drama and the dramatic art, together with the principles of dramaturgy
  and of the art of acting. Works which have reference to the drama of a
  particular period or of a particular nation only are mentioned
  separately. Works which deal with special authors only have been
  intentionally omitted in this bibliography, as being mentioned in the
  articles in the several authors.

  Aristotle's _Poetics_ (text and transl. by S. H. Butcher, London,
  1895; transl. by T. Twining, London, 1812; see also Donaldson's
  _Theatre of the Greeks_); H. Baumgart, _Aristoteles, Lessing, u.
  Goethe. Über das ethische u. ästhetische Princip der Tragödie_
  (Leipzig, 1877); H. A. Bulthaupt, _Dramaturgie des Schauspiels_ (4
  vols., Oldenburg u. Leipzig, 1893-1902); L. Campbell, _Tragic Drama in
  Aeschylus, Sophocles and Shakespeare_ (London, 1904); P. Corneille,
  _Discours du poëme dramatique--de la tragédie--des trois unités,
  OEuvres_, vol. i. (Paris, 1862); W. L. Courtney, _The Idea of Tragedy
  in Ancient and Modern Drama_ (Westminster, 1900); Diderot, _De la
  poésie dramatique_. _Entretiens sur le Fils Naturel, OEuvres
  complètes_, vii. (Paris, 1875); J. Dryden, _Essay of Dramatic Poesy_
  and other critical essays (_Essays of J. Dryden_, ed. W. P. Ker, 2
  vols., Oxford, 1900); G. Freytag, _Die Technik des Dramas_ (5th ed.,
  Leipzig, 1886); G. W. F. Hegel, _Vorlesungen über Ästhetik_, ed. H. G.
  Hotho, bd. 3, chap. iii. c. _Die dramatische Poesie_ (Werke, x. 3;
  Berlin, 1838); G. Larroumet, _Études d'histoire et de critique
  dramatiques_, 2 sér. (Paris, 1892-1899); G. E. Lessing, _Hamburgische
  Dramaturgie_. _Erlautert von F. Schroter u. R. Thiele_ (Halle, 1877);
  _Materialien zu Lessing's Hamburgische Dramaturgie, von W. Cosack_
  (Paderborn, 1876); G. H. Lewes, _On Actors and the Art of Acting_
  (London, 1875); Sir T. Martin, _Essays on the Drama_ (London, 1874);
  K. Mantzius, _History of Theatrical Art in Ancient and Modern Times_,
  transl. by L. von Cossel (London, 1903, &c.); G. Meredith, _Essay on
  Comedy_ (Westminster, 1897); R. Prolss, _Katechismus der Dramaturgie_
  (Leipzig, 1877); H. T. Rotscher, _Die Kunst der dramatischen
  Darstellung_ (3 vols., Berlin, 1841-1846); _Jahrbucher fur dramatische
  Kunst u. Literatur_ (Berlin and Frankfort, 1848-1849); P. de
  Saint-Victor, _Les Deux Masques, tragédie--comédie_ (3rd ed., 3 vols.,
  Paris, 1881, &c.); Saint-Marc Girardin, _Cours de littérature
  dramatique_ (7th ed., 5 vols., Paris, 1868); A. W. von Schlegel,
  _Lectures on Dramatic Art and Literature_ (Eng. transl., London,
  1846); Sir W. Scott, _Essays on Chivalry, Romance and the Drama_
  (including his article "Drama" written for the Supplement to the 4th
  edition of the _Ency. Brit._, and reprinted in the 5th, 6th, 7th and
  8th editions); F. T. Vischer, _Ästhetik_, vol. iv. (Stuttgart, 1857).

  The fullest general history of the drama extant is J. L. Klein's
  _Geschichte des Dramas_, 13 vols. and index (Leipzig, 1865-1886). See
  also, for encyclopaedic information, W. Davenport Adams, _A Dictionary
  of the Drama_, vol. i. (London, 1904); C. M. E. Béquet, _Encyclopédie
  de l'art dramatique_ (Paris, 1886); A. Pougin, _Dictionnaire
  historique et pittoresque du théâtre et des arts qui s'y rattachent_
  (Paris, 1885).

  The drama of the Eastern nations is generally treated in:--A. P.
  Brozzi, _Teatri e spettacoli dei popoli orientali Ebrei, Arabi,
  Persani, Indiani, Cinesi, Giapponesi e Giavanesi_ (Milan, 1887); Comte
  J. A. de Gobineau, _Les Religions et les philosophies dans l'Asie
  centrale_ (2nd ed., Paris, 1866).

  The following works deal with the Indian drama:--M. Schuyler,
  _Bibliography of the Sanskrit Drama_ (Columbia Univ., Indo-Iranian,
  ser. iii., New York, 1906); H. H. Wilson, _Select Specimens of the
  Theatre of the Hindus_, transl. from the original Sanskrit (with
  introduction on the dramatic system of the Hindus), 3rd ed., 2 vols.
  (London, 1871); S. Levi, _Le Théâtre indien_ (supplements Wilson)
  (Paris, 1891).

  For Chinese:--Tscheng-Ki-Tong, _Le Théâtre des Chinois_ (Paris, 1886);
  see also H. A. Giles, _History of Chinese Literature_ (London, 1901).

  For Japanese:--C. Florenz, _Gesch. d. japan. Litteratur_, vol. i. 1
  (Leipzig, 1905); see also F. Brinkley, _Japan, its History, Arts and
  Literature_, vol. iii. (Boston and Tokyo, 1901).

  For Persian:--A. Chodzko, _Théâtre persan. Choix de téaziés ou drames,
  traduits pour la première fois du persan par A. Chodzko_ (Paris,
  1878); E. Montet, _Le Théâtre en Perse_ (Geneva, 1888); Sir L. Pelly,
  _The Miracle Play of Hasan and Husain, collected from oral tradition;
  revised with explanatory notes by A. N. Wollaston_ (2 vols., London,
  1879).

  Of works treating of the ancient Greek and Roman drama only a small
  selection can be given here. In the case of the Greek drama, the chief
  histories of literature--such as G. Bernhardy's, K. O. Muller's (Eng.
  tr. by Sir G. C. Lewis, with continuation by J. W. Donaldson) and G.
  Murray's--and general histories--such as Grote's, Thirlwall's,
  Curtius's, &c.--should also be consulted; and for the administration
  and finance of the Attic theatre, Boeckh's _Public Economy of Athens_,
  Eng. tr. (London, 1842). Much useful information will be found in _A
  Companion to Greek Studies_, ed. by L. Whibley (Cambridge, 1905). The
  standard collective edition of the ancient Greek dramatic poets is the
  _Poetae scenici Graeci_, ed. C. W. Dindorf (5th ed., Leipzig, 1869),
  and that of the Comic poets A. Meineke's _Historia critica comicorum
  Graecorum. Cum fragmentis_ (5 vols., Berlin, 1839-1857). Aristotle's
  _Poetics_, cited above, will of course be consulted for the theory of
  the Greek drama in particular; and much valuable critical matter will
  be found in passages of Bentley's _Phalaris_ (1699), which are
  reprinted in Donaldson's _Theatre of the Greeks_. The following later
  works, some of which treat of the ancient classical drama in general,
  may be noted:--E. A. Chaignet, _La Tragédie grecque_ (Paris, 1877); J.
  Denys, _Histoire de la comédie grecque_ (2 vols., Paris, 1886); J. W.
  Donaldson, _The Theatre of the Greeks_ (7th ed., London, 1860); Du
  Méril, _Histoire de la comédie. Période primitive_ (Paris, 1864);
  _Histoire de la comédie ancienne_ (Paris, 1869); A. E. Haigh, _The
  Tragic Drama of the Greeks_ (Oxford, 1896); _The Attic Theatre_
  (Oxford, 1898); G. Korting, _Gesch. des Theaters in seinen Beziehungen
  zur Kunstentwickelung der dramatischen Dichtkunst_, Bd. i. _Gesch. des
  griechischen u. romischen Theaters_ (Paderborn, 1897); R. G. Moulton,
  _The Ancient Classical Drama_ (Oxford, 1898); M. Patin, _Étude sur les
  tragiques grecs_ (3 vols., Paris, 1861); C. M. Rapp, _Gesch. des
  griechischen Schauspiels vom Standpunkt der dramatischen Kunst_
  (Tubingen, 1862); H. Weil, _Études sur le drame antique_ (Paris,
  1897); F. G. Welcker, "Die griechischen Tragodien, mit Rucksicht auf
  den epischen Cyklus" (_Rhein. Mus._ Suppl. ii.) 3 pts. (Bonn,
  1839-1841).

  In addition to the works of individual Roman dramatists, and critical
  writings concerning them, see _Scaenicae Romanorum poesis fragmenta_,
  2 vols. (I. Tragic, II. Comic) ed. by O. Ribbeck (3rd ed. Leipzig,
  1897-1898). W. S. Teuffel's _History of Roman Literature_, Eng. tr. (2
  vols., London, 1891-1892), and M. Schanz' _Gesch. der romischen
  Litteratur bis Justinian_ (2 vols., Munich, 1890-1892), may be
  consulted for a complete view of the course of the Roman drama. For
  its later developments consult Dean Merivale's _History of the Romans
  under the Empire_, and S. Dill's _Roman Society in the Last Days of
  the Western Empire_ (London, 1898). See also L. Friedländer,
  _Darstellungen aus der Sittengeschichte Roms_, 6th ed., vol. ii.
  (Leipzig, 1889); M. Meyer, _Étude sur le théâtre latin_ (Paris, 1847);
  O. Ribbeck, _Die römische Tragödie im Zeitalter der Republik_
  (Leipzig, 1875).

  The following works treat of the medieval drama, religious or secular,
  of its origins and of usages connected with it:--H. Anz, _Die
  lateinischen Magierspiele_ (Leipzig, 1905); E. K. Chambers, _The
  Medieval Stage_ (2 vols., Oxford, 1903), with full bibliography; E. de
  Coussemaker, _Drames liturgiques du moyen âge_ (Paris, 1861); du
  Méril, _Theatri liturgici quae Latina supersunt monumenta_ (Caen and
  Paris, 1849); C. A. Hase, _Miracle Plays and Sacred Dramas_ (Eng.
  tr.), (London, 1880); Hilarius, _Versus et ludi_, ed.
  Champollion-Figeac (Paris, 1838); R. Froning, _Das Drama des
  Mittelalters_ (3 vols., Stuttgart, 1891, &c.); Edwin Norris, _Ancient
  Cornish Drama_ (ed. and tr. 2 vols., 1859); W. Hone, _Ancient
  Mysteries Described_ (London, 1823); A. von Keller, _Fastnachtsspiele
  aus dem 15. Jahrhundert_ (Stuttgart, 1858); C. Magnin, _Les Origines
  du théâtre moderne_, vol. i. only (Paris, 1838); F. J. Mone,
  _Schauspiele des Mittelalters_ (2 vols., Karlsruhe, 1846); A. Reiners,
  _Die Tropen-, Prosen-, u. Präfations-Gesänge_ (Luxemburg, 1884); J. de
  Rothschild, _Le Mistère du Viel Testament_, ed. J. de Rothschild (6
  vols., Paris, 1878-1891); M. Sepet, _Le Drame chrétien au moyen âge_
  (Paris, 1878); _Origines catholiques du théâtre moderne_. _Les drames
  liturgiques_ (Paris, 1901); T. Wright, _Early Mysteries and other
  Latin Poems of the 12th and 13th Centuries_ (London, 1838); C. A. G.
  von Zezschwitz, _Das mittelalterliche Drama_ (Leipzig, 1881).

  For French medieval drama in particular:--L. Clédat, _Le Théâtre en
  France au moyen âge_ (Paris, 1896); E. Fournier, _Le Théâtre français
  avant la Renaissance_ (Paris, 1872); _Miracles de Notre Dame par
  personnages_, ed. G. Paris and U. Robert (8 vols., Paris, 1876-1893);
  L. J. N. Monmerqué and F. Michel, _Théâtre français au moyen âge_
  (Paris, 1839); L. Petit de Julleville, _Histoire du théâtre en France
  au moyen âge_ (5 vols., Paris, 1880-1886); E. L. N. Viollet-le-Duc,
  _Ancien Théâtre français_ (10 vols., Paris, 1854-1857).

  For the medieval Italian in particular:--A. d'Ancona, _Sacre
  rappresentazioni dei secoli XIV., XV. e XVI._ (Florence, 1872).

  For medieval English in particular:--Ahn, _English Mysteries and
  Miracle Plays_ (Trèves, 1867); S. W. Clarke, _The Miracle Play in
  England_ (London, 1897); F. W. Fairholt, _Lord Mayors' Pageants_, 2
  vols. (Percy Soc.) (London, 1843-1844); A. W. Pollard, _English
  Miracle Plays, Moralities and Interludes_ (3rd ed., Oxford 1898);
  _Chester Plays_ ed. T. Wright, 2 vols. (Shakespeare Soc.) (London,
  1843), re-ed. by H. Deimling (part only) (E.E.T.S.) (London, 1893);
  _Coventry Plays, Ludus Coventriae_, ed. J. O. Halliwell (-Phillipps)
  (Shakespeare Soc.) (London, 1841); _Coventry Plays_. _Dissertation on
  the pageants or mysteries at Coventry_, by T. Sharp (Coventry, 1825);
  _Digby Plays_, ed. F. J. Furnivall (E.E.T.S.) (London, 1896);
  _Towneley Mysteries_, ed. G. England and A. W. Pollard (E.E.T.S.)
  (London, 1897); _York Plays_, ed. L. T. Smith (Oxford, 1885).

  For the German in particular:--F. J. Mone, _Altteutsche Schauspiele_
  (Quedlinburg, 1841); H. Reidt, _Das geistliche Schauspiel des
  Mittelalters in Deutschland_ (Frankfort, 1868); E. Wilken, _Gesch. der
  geistlichen Spiele in Deutschland_ (Göttingen, 1872).

  The revival of the classical drama in the Renaissance age is treated
  in P. Bahlmann's _Die Erneuerer des antiken Dramas und ihre ersten
  dramatischen Versuche_, 1314-1478 (Münster, 1896); A. Chassang's _Des
  essais dramatiques imités de l'antiquité au XIV^e et XV^e siècle_
  (Paris, 1852); and in V. de Amitis' _L'Imitazione latina nella
  commedia del XVI. secolo_ (Pisa, 1871).

  Both the medieval and portions of the later drama are treated in W.
  Cloetta, _Beiträge zur Litteraturgeschichte des Mittelalters und der
  Renaissance_ (2 vols., Halle, 1890-1892); W. Creizenach, _Geschichte
  des neueren Dramas_, vols. i.-iii. (Halle, 1893-1903); R. Prölss,
  _Geschichte des neueren Dramas_ (3 vols., Leipzig, 1881-1883). See
  also L.-V. Gofflot, _Le Théâtre au collège, du moyen âge à nos jours_,
  Préface par Jules Claretie (Paris, 1907).

  The history of the modern Italian drama, in its various stages, is
  treated by A. d'Ancona, _Origini del teatro italiano_ (2nd ed., 2
  vols., Turin, 1891); J. Dornis, _Le Théâtre italien contemporain_
  (Paris, 1904); H. Lyonnet, _Le Théâtre en Italie_ (Paris, 1900); L.
  Riccoboni, _Histoire du théâtre italien_ (2 vols., Rome, 1728-1731);
  J. C. Walker, _Historical Memoir on Italian Tragedy_ (London, 1799).
  See also A. Gaspary, _History of Early Italian Literature_, transl. by
  H. Oelsner (London, 1901).

  Some information as to the modern Greek drama is given in R. Nicolai,
  _Geschichte der neugriechischen Literatur_ (Leipzig, 1876).

  Modern Spanish drama:--M. A. Fée, _Études sur l'ancien théâtre
  espagnol_ (Paris 1873); A. Gassier, _Le Théâtre espagnol_ (Paris,
  1898); G. H. Lewes, _The Spanish Drama_ (London, 1846); H. Lyonnet,
  _Le Théâtre en Espagne_ (Paris, 1897); A. Schäffer, _Gesch. des
  spanischen Nationaldramas_ (2 vols., Leipzig, 1890); L. de
  Viel-Castel, _Essai sur le théâtre espagnol_ (2 vols., Paris, 1882).
  See also G. Ticknor, _History of Spanish Literature_ (3 vols., London,
  1863).

  Modern Portuguese:--H. Lyonnet, _Le Théâtre au Portugal_ (Paris,
  1898); see also K. von Reinhardstoettner's _Portugiesische
  Literaturgeschichte_ (Sammlung Göschen) (Leipzig, 1904), which
  contains a useful bibliography.

  Regular French drama (tragedy and comedy):--F. Brunetière, _Les
  Epoques du théâtre français_, 1636-1850 (Paris, 1892); E. Chasles,
  _La Comédie en France au XVI^e siècle_ (Paris, 1862); E. Faguet, _La
  Tragédie française au XVI^e siècle_ (Paris, 1883); A. Filon, _The
  Modern French Drama_ (London, 1898); V. Fournel, _Le Théâtre au XVII^e
  siècle_ (Paris, 1892); E. Fournier, _Le Théâtre français au XVI^e et
  au XVII^e siècle_ (2 vols., Paris, s.d.); F. Hawkins, _Annals of the
  French Stage_ (London, 1884); H. Lucas, _Hist. philosophique et
  littéraire du théâtre français depuis son origine_ (3 vols., Paris);
  Parfait, _Hist. du théâtre français_ (15 vols., Paris, 1745-1749); L.
  Petit de Julleville, _Le théâtre en France depuis ses origines jusqu'à
  nos jours_ (Paris, 1899); E. Rigal, _Le théâtre français avant la
  période classique_ (Paris, 1901); E. Roy, _Études sur le théâtre
  français du XV^e et du XVI^e siècle_ (Dijon, 1901).

  The connexion between the Italian and French theatre in the 17th
  century is traced in L. Moland, _Molière et la comédie italienne_ (2nd
  ed., Paris, 1867). See also J. C. Démogeot's, H. von Laun's and
  Saintsbury's histories of French Literature.

  Of the ample literature concerned with the modern English drama the
  following works may be specially mentioned, as dealing with the entire
  range of the English drama, or with more than one of its periods:--D.
  E. Baker, _Biographia dramatica_ (continued to 1811 by J. Reed and S.
  Jones) (3 vols., London, 1812); J. P. Collier, _History of English
  Dramatic Poetry_, new ed. (3 vols., London, 1879); C. Dibdin, _A
  complete History of the English Stage_ (5 vols., London, 1800); J. J.
  Jusserand, _Le Théâtre en Angleterre_ (2nd ed., Paris, 1881); G.
  Langbaine, _Lives and Characters of the English Dramatic Poets_
  (London, 1699); _The Poetical Register: or lives and characters of the
  English dramatick poets_ (London, 1719); C. M. Rapp, _Studien über das
  englische Theater_, 2 parts (Tübingen, 1862); "G. S. B.", _Study of
  the Prologue and Epilogue in English Literature_ (London, 1884); _The
  Thespian Dictionary: or dramatic biography of the 18th century_
  (London, 1802); A. W. Ward, _History of English Dramatic Literature to
  the Death of Queen Anne_ (2nd ed., 3 vols., London, 1899); see also
  the histories of English Literature or Poetry, by Warton, Taine, ten
  Brinck, Courthope, Saintsbury, &c.

  The following works contain the most complete lists of English
  plays:--W. W. Greg, _A List of English Plays written before 1643 and
  published before 1700_ (Bibliogr. Soc.) (London, 1900); J. O.
  Halliwell (-Phillipps), _Dictionary of Old English Plays_ (London,
  1860); W. C. Hazlitt, _A Manual for the Collector and Amateur of Old
  English Plays_ (London, 1892); R. W. Lowe, _Bibliographical Account of
  English Dramatic Literature_ (London, 1888) is a valuable handbook for
  the whole of English theatrical literature and matters connected with
  it. The unique work of Genest, _Some Account of the English Stage from
  1660-1830_ (10 vols., Bath, 1832), includes, with a chronological
  series of plays acted on the English stage, notices of unacted plays,
  and critical remarks on plays and actors. "A Compleat List" of English
  dramatic poets and plays to 1747 was published with T. Whincop's
  _Scanderbeg_ in that year.

  The following are the principal collections of English plays--_Ancient
  British Drama_, ed. Sir W. Scott (3 vols., London, 1810); _Modern
  British Drama_, ed. Sir W. Scott (5 vols., London, 1811); W. Bang,
  _Materialien zur Kunde des älteren englischen Dramas_ (Louvain, 1902,
  &c.); A. H. Bullen, _Collection of Old English Plays_ (4 vols.,
  London, 1882); R. Dodsley, _A Select Collection of Old Plays_, 4th ed.
  by W. C. Hazlitt (15 vols., London, 1874-1876); _Dramatists of the
  Restoration_ (14 vols., Edinburgh, 1872-1879); _Early English
  Dramatists_, ed. J. S. Farmer (London, 1905, &c.); C. M. Gayley,
  _Representative English Comedies_ (vol. i., New York, 1903); T.
  Hawkins, _Origin of the English Drama_ (3 vols., Oxford, 1773); Mrs
  Inchbald, _British Theatre_, new ed. (20 vols., London, 1824), _Modern
  Theatre_ (10 vols., London, 1811), _Collection of Farces and
  Afterpieces_ (7 vols., London, 1815); Malone Society publications
  (London, 1907, &c.); J. M. Manly, _Specimens of the Pre-Shakespearean
  Drama_ (3 vols., London, 1897); _Mermaid Series of Old Dramatists_,
  ed. Havelock Ellis (London, 1887. &c.); _Old English Drama_ (2 vols.,
  London, 1825); _Pearson's Reprints of Elizabethan and Jacobean Plays_
  (London, 1871, &c.).

  The following deal with the Elizabethan and Jacobean drama in
  especial:--W. Creizenach, _Die Schauspiele der englischen Komödianten_
  (Berlin, 1895); J. W. Cunliffe, _The Influence of Seneca on
  Elizabethan Tragedy_ (London, 1893); F. G. Fleay, _A Chronicle History
  of the London Stage, 1559-1642_ (London, 1890), _A Biographical
  Chronicle of the English Drama, 1559-1642_ (London, 1891); W. C.
  Hazlitt, _The English Drama and Stage under the Tudor and Stuart
  Princes, 1543-1664_ (London, 1869); W. Hazlitt, _Dramatic Literature
  of the Age of Elizabeth_ (Works, ed. A. R. Waller, vol. v.) (London,
  1902); A. F. von Schack, _Die englischen Dramatiker vor, neben, und
  nach Shakespeare_ (Stuttgart, 1893); J. A. Symonds, _Shakspere's
  Predecessors in the English Drama_ (London, 1884).

  As to the Latin academical drama of the Elizabethan age see G. B.
  Churchill and W. Keller, "Die latein. Universitäts-Dramen Englands in
  der Zeit d. Königin Elizabeth" in _Jahrbuch der deutschen
  Shakespeare-Gesellschaft_. For a short bibliography of the Oxford
  academical drama, 1547-1663, see the introduction to Miss M. L. Lee's
  edition of _Narcissus_ (London, 1893). A list of Oxford plays will
  also be found in _Notes and Queries_, ser. vii., vol. ii. For a list
  of Cambridge plays from 1534 to 1671, the writer of this article is
  indebted to Prof. G. C. Moore-Smith of the university of Sheffield.

  For an account of the Mask see R. Brotanek, _Die englischen
  Maskenspiele_ (Vienna and Leipzig, 1902); H. A. Evans, _English
  Masques_ (London, 1897); W. W. Greg, _A List of Masques, Pageants,
  &c._ (Bibliogr. Soc.) (London, 1902).

  As to early London theatres see T. F. Ordish, _Early London Theatres_
  (London, 1894).

  Some information as to puppet-plays, &c., will be found in Henry
  Morley's _Memoirs of Bartholomew Fair_ (London, 1859).

  Among earlier critical essays on the Elizabethan and Stuart drama
  should be mentioned those of Sir Philip Sidney, G. Puttenham and W.
  Webbe, T. Rymer and Dryden. For recent essays and notes on the
  Elizabethan drama in general, see, besides the essays of Coleridge,
  Lamb (including the introductory remarks in the _Specimens_), Hazlitt,
  &c., and the remarkable series of articles in the _Retrospective
  Review_ (1820-1828), the Publications and Transactions of the Old and
  New Shakespeare Societies (1841, &c.; 1874, &c.), which also contain
  reprints of early works of great importance for the history of the
  Elizabethan drama and stage, such as Henslowe's _Diary_, &c., the
  _Jahrbuch der deutschen Shakespeare-Gesellschaft_ (1865, &c.), as well
  as the German journals _Anglia_, _Englische Studien_, &c., and the
  _Modern Language Review_ (Cambridge).

  The later English drama from the reopening of the theatres (1660) is
  treated in L. N. Chase, _The English Heroic Play_ (New York, 1903); C.
  Cibber, _Apology for the Life of C. Cibber_, written by himself, new
  ed. by R. W. Lowe (2 vols., London, 1889), who has also edited
  Churchill's _Rosciad_ and _Apology_ (London, 1891); J. Doran, _Their
  Majesties' Servants: annals of the English Stage_ (3 vols., London,
  1888); A. Filon, _Le Théâtre anglais: hier, aujourd'hui, demain_
  (Paris, 1896); W. Hazlitt, _A View of the English Stage_ (_Works_, ed.
  A. R. Waller, vol. viii.) (London, 1903); W. Nicholson, _The Struggle
  for a Free Stage in London_ (Westminster, 1907).

  The following treat of the modern German drama in particular
  periods:--R. Prölss, _Gesch. der deutschen Schauspielkunst von den
  Anfangen bis 1850_ (Leipzig, 1900); R. E. Prutz, _Vorlesungen über die
  Geschichte des deutschen Theaters_ (Berlin, 1847); R. Froning, _Das
  Drama der Reformationszeit_ (Stuttgart, 1900); C. Heine, _Das
  Schauspiel der deutschen Wanderbuhne vor Gottsched_ (Halle, 1889); J.
  Minor, _Die Schicksalstragodie in ihren Hauptvertretern_ (Frankfort,
  1883); M. Martersteig, _Das deutsche Theater im XIX^ten Jahrh._
  (Leipzig, 1904). See also G. G. Gervinus, _Geschichte der deutschen
  Dichtung_ (5th ed., 5 vols., Leipzig, 1871-1874); and the literary
  histories of K. Goedeke (_Grundriss_), A. Koberstein, &c. A special
  aspect of the drama in modern Germany is dealt with in P. Bahlmann,
  _Die lateinischen Dramen von Wimpheling's Stylpho bis zur Mitte des
  XVI^ten Jahrhunderts, 1480-1550_ (Münster, 1893), and the same
  author's _Jesuiten-Dramen der niederrheinischen Ordensprovinz_
  (Leipzig, 1896).

  The standard history of the modern German stage is Eduard Devrient,
  _Gesch. der deutschen Schauspielkunst_ (2 vols., Leipzig, 1848-1861);
  see also R. Prölss, _Gesch. der deutschen Schauspielkunst von den
  Anfangen bis 1850_ (Leipzig, 1900); O. G. Flüggen, _Biographisches
  Buhnen-Lexikon der deutschen Theater_ (Munich, 1892).

  A good account of the history of the Dutch drama is F. von Hellwald's
  _Geschichte des hollandischen Theaters_ (Rotterdam, 1874). See also
  the authorities under J. van den Vondel.

  Information concerning the Danish drama will be found in the
  autobiographies of Holberg, Öhlenschläger and Andersen; see also vol.
  i. of G. Brandes's _Main Currents in Nineteenth Century Literature_
  (Eng. tr., London, 1901). As to the modern Norwegian drama see the
  same writer's _Ibsen-Bjornson Studies_ (Eng. tr., London, 1899); also
  E. Tissot, _Le Drame norvégien_ (Paris, 1893).

  The Russian drama is treated in P. O. Morozov's _Istoria Russkago
  Teatra_ (_History of the Russian Theatre_), vol. i. (St Petersburg,
  1889); see also P. de Corvin, _Le Théâtre en Russie_ (Paris, 1890). A.
  Brückner, _Geschichte der russischen Literatur_ (Leipzig, 1905), may
  be consulted with advantage. Information as to the dramatic portions
  of other Slav literatures will be found in A. Pipin and V. Spasovich's
  _Istoria Slavianskikh Literatur_ (_History of Slavonic Literatures_),
  German translation by T. Pech (2 vols., Leipzig, 1880-1884).
       (A. W. W.)


FOOTNOTES:

  [1] _Gallicanus_, part ii.; _Sapientia_.

  [2] _Gallicanus_, part i.; _Callimachus_; _Abraham_; _Paphnutius_.

  [3] The passion-play of Oberammergau, familiar in its present
    artistic form to so many visitors, was instituted under special
    circumstances in the days of the Thirty Years' War (1634). Various
    reasons account for its having been allowed to survive.

  [4] To the earliest group belong _The Castle of Perseverance_;
    _Wisdom who is Christ_; _Mankind_; to the second, or early Tudor
    group, Medwell, _Nature_; _The World and the Child_; _Hycke-Scorner_,
    &c.

  [5] _Magnyfycence_.

  [6] _New Custome_; N. Woodes, _The Conflict of Conscience_, &c.

  [7] _Albyon Knight_.

  [8] Rastell, _Nature of the Four Elements_; Redford, _Wit and
    Science_; _The Trial of Treasure_; _The Marriage of Wit and Science_.

  [9] _The Marriage of Wit and Wisdom_; _The Contention between
    Liberality and Prodigality_.

  [10] _Jack Juggler_; _Tom Tiler and his Wife_, &c.

  [11] _The Four P's_, &c.

  [12] _The Disobedient Child_ (c. 1560).

  [13] The [Greek: Christos paschôn], an artificial Byzantine product,
    probably of the 11th century, glorifying the Virgin in Euripidean
    verse, was not known to the Western world till 1542.

  [14] Of G. Manzini della Motta's Latin tragedy on the fall of Antonio
    della Scala only a chorus remains. He died after 1389. Probably to
    the earlier half of the century belongs the Latin prose drama
    _Columpnarium_, the story of which, though it ends happily, resembles
    that of _The Cenci_. Later plays in Latin of the historic type are
    the extant Landivio de' Nobili's _De captivitate Ducis Jacobi_ (the
    _condottiere_ Jacopo Piccinino, d. 1464); C. Verardi's _Historia
    Baetica_ (the expulsion of the Moors from Granada) (1492), and the
    game author's _Ferdinandus_ (of Aragon) _Servatus_, which is called a
    tragi-comedy because it is neither tragic nor comic. The Florentine L.
    Dali's _Hiempsal_ (1441-1442) remains in MS. A few tragedies on
    sacred subjects were produced in Italy during the last quarter of the
    15th century, and a little later. Such were the religious dramas
    written for his pupils by P. Domizio, on which Politian cast
    contempt; and the tragedies, following ancient models, of T. da Prato
    of Treviso, B. Campagna of Verona, _De passione Redemptoris_; and G.
    F. Conti, author of _Theandrothanatos_ and numerous vanished plays.

  [15] _Imber aureus_ (Danae), &c.

  [16] L. Bruni's _Poliscena_ (c. 1395); Sicco Polentone's (1370-1463)
    jovial _Lusus ebriorum_ s. _De lege bibia_; the papal secretary P.
    Candido Decembrio's (1399-1477) non-extant _Aphrodisia_; L. B.
    Alberti's _Philodoxios_ (1424); Ugolino Pisani of Parma's (d. before
    1462) _Philogenia_ and _Confutatio coquinaria_ (a merry students'
    play); the _Fraudiphila_ of A. Tridentino, also of Parma, who died
    after 1470 and perhaps served Pius II.; Eneo Silvio de' Piccolomini's
    own verse comedy, _Chrisis_, likewise in MS., written in 1444; P.
    Domizio's _Lucinia_, acted in the palace of Lorenzo de' Medici in
    1478, &c.

  [17] Mondella, _Isifile_ (1582); Fuligni, _Bragadino_ (1589).

  [18] Home, _Douglas_.

  [19] Lazzaroni, _Ulisse il giovane_ (1719).

  [20] _Didone abbandonata_, _Siroe_, _Semiramide_, _Artaserse_,
    _Demetris_, &c.

  [21] _Cleopatra_, _Antigone_, _Octavia_, _Mirope_, &c.

  [22] e.g. _Bruto I._ and _II._

  [23] _Filippo_; _Maria Stuarda_.

  [24] Pellico, _Francesca da Rimini_; Niccolini, _Giovanni da
    Procida_; _Beatrice Cenci_; Giacometti, _Cola di Rienzi_
    (Giacometti's masterpiece was _La Marte civile_).

  [25] Pyrogopolinices in the _Miles Gloriosus_.

  [26] The masked characters, each of which spoke the dialect of the
    place he represented, were (according to Baretti) _Pantalone_, a
    Venetian merchant; _Dottore_, a Bolognese physician; _Spaviento_, a
    Neapolitan braggadocio; _Pullicinella_, a wag of Apulia;
    _Giangurgulo_ and _Coviello_, clowns of Calabria; _Gelfomino_, a
    Roman beau; _Brighella_, a Ferrarese pimp; and _Arlecchino_, a
    blundering servant of Bergamo. Besides these and a few other such
    personages (of whom four at least appeared in each play), there were
    the _Amorosos_ or _Innamoratos_, men or women (the latter not before
    1560, up to which time actresses were unknown in Italy) with serious
    parts, and _Smeraldina_, _Colombina_, _Spilletta_, and other
    _servettas_ or waiting-maids. All these spoke Tuscan or Roman, and
    wore no masks.

  [27] _Pasitea_.

  [28] _Amicizia_.

  [29] _Milesia_.

  [30] _La Lena_; _Il Negromante_.

  [31] _La Cassaria_; _I Suppositi_.

  [32] Of Machiavelli's other comedies, two are prose adaptations from
    Plautus and Terence, _La Clizia_ (Casina) and _Andria_; of the two
    others, simply called _Commedie_, and in verse, his authorship seems
    doubtful.

  [33] _La Cortigiana_, _La Talanta_, _Il Ipocrito_, _Il Filosofo_.

  [34] _Momolo Cortesan_ (_Jerome the Accomplished Man_); _La Bottega
    del caffé_, &c.

  [35] _La Vedova scaltra_ (_The Cunning Widow_); _La Putta onorata_
    (_The Respectable Girl_); _La Buona Figlia_; _La B. Sposa_; _La B.
    Famiglia_; _La B. Madre_ (the last of which was unsuccessful;
    "goodness," says Goldoni, "never displeases, but the public weary of
    every thing"), &c.; and _Il Burbero benefico_, called in its original
    French version _Le Bourru bienfaisant_.

  [36] _Molière_; _Terenzio_; _Tasso_.

  [37] _Pamela_; _Pamela Maritata_; _Il Filosofo Inglese_ (_Mr
    Spectator_).

  [38] _L' Amore delle tre melarancie_ (_The Three Lemons_); _Il
    Corvo_.

  [39] _Turandot_; _Zobeïde_.

  [40] _L' Amore delle tre m._ (against Goldoni); _L' Angellino
    Belverde_ (_The Small Green Bird_), (against Helvetius, Rousseau and
    Voltaire).

  [41] _Aspasia_; _Polyxena_.

  [42] _Ephemeridophobos_.

  [43] _Timoleon_; _Konstantinos Palaeologos_; _Rhigas of Pherae_.

  [44] _The Three Hundred_, or _The Character of the Ancient Hellene_
    (Leonidas); _The Death of the Orator_ (Demosthenes); _A Scion of
    Timoleon_, &c.

  [45] The term is the same as that used in the old French collective
    mysteries (_journées_).

  [46] In some of his plays (_Comedia Serafina_; _C. Tinelaria_) there
    is a mixture of languages even stranger than that of dialects in the
    Italian masked comedy.

  [47] _Necromanticus_, _Lena_, _Decepti_, _Suppositi_.

  [48] _Los Engaños_ (_Gli Ingannati_).

  [49] _Cornelia_ (_Il Negromante_).

  [50] Lope, _Armelina_ (Medea and Neptune as _deus ex machina_--si
    modo machina adfuisset).

  [51] _Menennos_.

  [52] _El Azero de Madrid_ (_The Steel Water of Madrid_); _Dineros son
    Calidad_ (= _The Dog in the Manger_), &c.

  [53] _La Estrella de Sevilla_ (_The Star of Seville_, i.e. Sancho the
    Brave); _El Nuevo Mundo_ (Columbus), &c.

  [54] _Roma Abrasada_ (_R. in Ashes_--Nero).

  [55] _Arauco domado_ (_The Conquest of Arauco_, 1560).

  [56] _La Moza de cantaro_ (_The Water-maid_).

  [57] _Las Mocedades_ (_The Youthful Adventures_) _del Cid_.

  [58] _Don Gil de las calzas verdes_ (_D. G. in the Green Breeches_).

  [59] _El Burlador de Sevilla y Convivado de piedra_ (_The Deceiver of
    Seville_, i.e. Don Juan, _and the Stone Guest_).

  [60] _El Divino Orfeo_, &c.

  [61] _El Magico prodigioso_; _El Purgatorio de San Patricio_; _La
    Devocion de la Cruz_.

  [62] _El Principe constante_ (Don Ferdinand of Portugal).

  [63] _La Dama duende_ (_The Fairy Lady_).

  [64] _Vida es sueño_ (_Life is a Dream_).

  [65] _El Lindo Don Diego_ (_Pretty Don Diego_).

  [66] _Desden con el desden_ (_Disdain against Disdain_).

  [67] Luzan, _La Razon contra la mode_ (La Chaussée, _Le Préjugé à la
    mode_).

  [68] _El Delinquente honrado (The Honoured Culprit)._

  [69] _El Sí de las niñas (The Young Maidens' Consent)._

  [70] _O cioso_ (_The Jealous Man_), &c. His _Inez de Castro_ is a
    tragedy with choruses, partly founded on the Spanish play of J.
    Bermudez.

  [71] _Don Duardos_, _Amadis_, &c.

  [72] _Auto das Regateiras_ (_The Market-women_), _Pratica de
    compadres_ (_The Gossips_), &c.

  [73] _Emphatri[)o]es_, _Filodemo_, _Seleuco_.

  [74] _Os Estrangeiros_, _Os Vilhalpandos_ (_The Impostors_).

  [75] _Eufrosina_, _Ulyssipo_ (Lisbon), _Aulegrafia_.

  [76] _Astarte_, _Hermione_, _Megara_.

  [77] These assumptions of names remind us that we are in the period
    of the "_Arcadias_."

  [78] _Cat[=a]o_.

  [79] _Manoel de Sousa_, &c.

  [80] _Antigone_ and _Electra_; _Hecuba_; and _Iphigenia in Aulis_.
    The _Andria_ was also translated, and in 1540 Ronsard translated the
    _Plutus_ of Aristophanes.

  [81] Trissino, _Sofonisba_, by de Saint-Gelais.

  [82] _La Soltane_ (1561).

  [83] _Daïre (Darius)._

  [84] _La Mort de César._

  [85] _Achille_ (1563).

  [86] _Les Lacènes_; _Marie Stuart or L'Écossaise_.

  [87] _La Juive_, &c.

  [88] _Les Corivaux_ (1573).

  [89] _La Reconnue_ (Le Capitaine Rodomont).

  [90] _Les Esbahis._

  [91] _Les Contens_ (S. Parabosco, _I Contenti_).

  [92] _Les Néapolitaines_; _Les Désespérades de l'amour_.

  [93] _Le Laquais (Il Ragazzo)._

  [94] _Les Tromperies (Gli Inganni)._

  [95] "L. du Peschier" (de Barry), _La Comédie des comédies_.

  [96] _L'Amour tyrannique._

  [97] _Agrippine_, _Le Pédant joué_.

  [98] _Marianne._

  [99] _Sophonisbe._

  [100] _Les Bergeries._

  [101] _Mélite_; _Clitandre_, &c.

  [102] _Le Véritable Saint Genest_; _Venceslas_.

  [103] Steele, _The Lying Lover_; Foote, _The Liar_; Goldoni, _Il
    Bugiardo_.

  [104] Ruiz de Alarcon, _La Verdad sospechosa._

  [105] _L'Illusion comique_ is antithetically mixed.

  [106] _Andromaque_; _Phèdre_; _Bérénice_, &c.

  [107] _Esther_; _Athalie_.

  [108] _Le Cid_; _Polyeucte_.

  [109] _Esther_; _Athalie_.

  [110] Corneille, _Rodogune_; Racine, _Phèdre_.

  [111] _Brutus_; _La Mort de César_; _Sémiramis_.

  [112] _OEdipe_; _Le Fanatisme_ (_Mahomet_).

  [113] _Adélaïde du Guesclin_.

  [114] _L'Orphelin de la Chine_.

  [115] _Tanis et Zélide_.

  [116] _Les Guèbres_.

  [117] _Olimpie_.

  [118] _Tancrède_.

  [119] _La Mort de César_; _Zaïre_ (_Othello_).

  [120] _Hamlet_; _Le Roi Léar_, &c.

  [121] The lectures delivered by the late Professor A. Beljame at
    Trinity College, Cambridge, in 1905-1906 may be mentioned as valuable
    contributions to our knowledge of the growth of Shakespeare's
    influence in France.

  [122] Quinault, _L'Amour indiscret_ (Newcastle and Dryden's _Sir
    Martin Mar-all_).

  [123] _Le Mercure galant_; _Ésope à la ville_; _Ésope à la cour_
    (Vanbrugh, _Aesop_).

  [124] _Le Bal_ (_M. de Pourceaugnac_); Geronte in _Le Légataire
    universel_ (Argan in _Le Malade imaginaire_); _La Critique du L._
    (_La C. de l'école des femmes_).

  [125] _Le Joueur_; _Le Légataire universel_.

  [126] _Crispin rival de son maître_; _Turcaret_.

  [127] _Le Méchant_.

  [128] _La Métromanie_.

  [129] _Le Jeu de l'amour et du hasard_; _Le Legs_; _La Surprise de
    l'amour_; _Les Fausses Confidences_; _L'Épreuve_.

  [130] _Le Philosophe marié_; _Le Glorieux_; _Le Dissipateur_.

  [131] _La Fausse Antipathie_; _Le Préjugé à la mode_; _L'École des
    amis_; _Méluside_; _Paméla_. _L'École des mères_ was the play which
    Frederick the Great described as turning the stage into a _bureau
    général de la fadeur_.

  [132] See especially _Nanine_, founded on the original _Paméla_.

  [133] _Le Philosophe sans le savoir_; _La Gageure imprévue_.

  [134] e.g. _Eugénie_ (the original of Goethe's _Clavigo_) and _Les
    Deux Amis_, or _Le Négociant de Lyon_.

  [135] _Richard Coeur de Lion_, &c.

  [136] _Zémire et Azor_; _Jeannot et Jeannette_.

  [137] _Les Muses galantes_; _Le Devin du village_.

  [138] _Pygmalion_.

  [139] _Charles IX, ou l'école des rois_.

  [140] _Hernani_ (1839); _Le Roi s'amuse_; _Ruy Blas_; _Les
    Burgraves_, &c. Even in _Torquemada_, the fruit of its author's old
    age, and full of bombast, the original power has not altogether gone
    out.

  [141] _Chatterton_.

  [142] _François le champi_; _Claudie_.

  [143] _Le Gendre de M. Poirier_.

  [144] _On ne badine pas avec l'amour_, as interpreted by Delaunay,
    must always remain the most exquisite type of this inimitable
    _genre_.

  [145] _Théâtre de Clara Gazul_. _La Famille Carvajal_, one of these
    pieces, treats the same story as that of _The Cenci_.

  [146] _Lucrèce_ (1843); _L'Honneur et l'argent_; _Charlotte Corday_.

  [147] _La Ciguë_; _L'Aventurière_; _Gabrielle_; _Le Fils de Giboyer_,
    &c.

  [148] _Valérie_; _Bertrand et Raton_; _Le Verre d'eau_, &c.

  [149] _Louis XI._

  [150] _Adrienne Lecouvreur_.

  [151] _La Dame aux camélias_; _Le Demi-monde_; _Le Supplice d'une
    femme_; _Les Idées de Mme Aubray_; _L'Étrangère_; _Francillon_.

  [152] _Les Pattes de mouche_; _Nos bons villageois_; _Patrie_.

  [153] _Le Monde où l'on s'ennuie_.

  [154] _Frou-frou_.

  [155] As has been already seen, Sir David Lyndsay's celebrated
    _Satyre of the Three Estaits_, a dramatic manifesto in favour of the
    Reformation, is in form a morality pure and simple.

  [156] _Tom Tiler and his Wife_ (1578); _A Knack to know a Knave_ (c.
    1594); _Sir Clyomon and Sir Clamydes_ (misattributed to G. Peele),
    (printed 1599).

  [157] An earlier drama by him, _Christus redivivus_, is said to have
    been printed at Cologne.

  [158] _Oedipus_; _Dido_; _Ulysses redux_.

  [159] By A. Guarna.

  [160] _Pax_; _Troas_; _Menaechmi_; _Oedipus_; _Mostellaria_;
    _Hecuba_; _Amphytruo_; _Medea_. These fall between 1546 and 1560. The
    date and place of the production of William Goldingham of Trinity
    Hall's _Herodes_, some time after 1567, are unknown.

  [161] The date and place of performance of the Latin _Fatum
    Vortigerni_ are unknown; but it was not improbably produced at a
    later time than Shakespeare's _Richard II._, which it seems in
    certain points to resemble.

  [162] Latin "academical" plays directly imitated from Seneca, but of
    unknown date, are _Solymannidae_ (or the story of Solyman II. and his
    son Mustapha), and _Tomumbeius_ (Tuman Bey, sultan of Egypt, 1516);
    yet others exhibit his influence.

  [163] _"Supposes" and "Jocasta,"_ ed. J. W. Cunliffe.

  [164] His _Palamon and Arcyte_ (produced in Christ Church hall,
    Oxford, in 1566) is not preserved; or we should be able to compare
    with _The Two Noble Kinsmen_ this early dramatic treatment of a
    singularly fine theme.

  [165] _The History of the Collier._

  [166] _A Historie of Error_ (1577), one of the many imitations of the
    _Menaechmi_, may have been the foundation of the _Comedy of Errors_.
    In the previous year was printed the old _Taming of a Shrew_, founded
    on a novel of G. F. Straparola. Part of the plot of Shakespeare's
    _Taming of the Shrew_ may have been suggested by _The Supposes_.

  [167] _Treatise wherein Dicing, Dauncing, Vaine Playes or Enterluds
    ... are reproved_, &c. (1577).

  [168] _The School of Abuse._

  [169] _The Anatomy of Abuses._

  [170] H. Denham, G. Whetstone (the author of _Promos and Cassandra_),
    W. Rankine.

  [171] It may be mentioned that the practice of companies of players,
    of one kind or another, being taken into the service of members of
    the royal family, or of great nobles, dates from much earlier times
    than the reign of Elizabeth. So far back as 1400/1 the corporation of
    Shrewsbury paid rewards to the _histriones_ of Prince Henry and of
    the earl of Stafford, and in 1408/9 reference is made to the players
    of the earl and countess of Arundel, of Lord Powys, of Lord Talbot
    and of Lord Furnival.

  [172] _The Woman in the Moone_; _Sapho and Phao_.

  [173] _Alexander and Campaspe._

  [174] _Endimion_; _Mydas_.

  [175] _Gallathea._

  [176] _Friar Bacon and Friar Bungay._

  [177] _The Wounds of Civil War._ With Greene he wrote _A
    Looking-Glass for London_.

  [178] _Summer's Last Will and Testament_ is his sole entire extant
    play. _Dido, Queen of Carthage_, is by him and Marlowe.

  [179] _Patient Grissil_ (with Dekker and Haughton).

  [180] _Hoffman, or A Revenge for a Father._

  [181] _Henry VIII._

  [182] Ford, _Perkin Warbeck_.

  [183] _Edward IV._; _If You Know Not Me_, &c.

  [184] _Henry VIII._

  [185] _The Merry Wives of Windsor._

  [186] Massinger, _The Virgin Martyr_; Shirley, _St Patrick for
    Ireland_.

  [187] _Cleopatra_; _Philotas_.

  [188] _Darius_; _Croesus_; _Julius Caesar_; _The Alexandraean
    Tragedy_.

  [189] _The Sad Shepherd_.

  [190] _The Faithful Shepherdess._

  [191] _The Queen's Arcadia._

  [192] _Sejanus his Fall_; _Catiline his Conspiracy_.

  [193] _Bussy d'Ambois_; _The Revenge of B. d'A._; _The Conspiracy of
    Byron_; _The Tragedy of B._; _Chabot, Admiral of France_ (with
    Shirley).

  [194] _Arden of Faversham_; _A Yorkshire Tragedy_.

  [195] _A Woman killed with Kindness_; _The English Traveller_.

  [196] _Vittoria Coromboni_; _The Duchess of Malfi_.

  [197] _'Tis Pity She's a Whore_; _The Broken Heart_.

  [198] _Every Man in his Humour_; _Every Man out of his Humour_.

  [199] Shadwell, _The Humorists_.

  [200] It is impossible in a summary survey to seek to discriminate by
    any kind of evidence the respective shares in many Elizabethan plays,
    and the respective credit due to them, of the joint writers. Yet some
    such inquiry is necessary before judging the claims to remembrance of
    highly-gifted dramatists such as William Rowley, his namesake Samuel,
    John Day, and not a few others.

  [201] The Latin comedy _Victoria_ by Abraham Fraunce of St John's was
    written some time before 1583, and dedicated to Sir Philip Sidney;
    but there is no evidence to show that it was ever acted.

  [202] (Bishop) Hacket's _Loyola_ was acted at Trinity in 1623.

  [203] _Naufragium joculare--The Guardian_ (rewritten later as _The
    Cutter of Coleman Street_).

  [204] Chapman, Marston (and Jonson), _Eastward Hoe_ (1605);
    Middleton, _A Game at Chess_ (1624); Shirley and Chapman, _The Ball_
    (1632); Massinger(?), _The Spanish Viceroy_ (1634).

  [205] _Twelfth Night._

  [206] _The Puritan, or the Widow of Watling Street_, by "W. S."
    (Wentworth Smith?).

  [207] _The Alchemist_; _Bartholomew Fair_.

  [208] Chapman, _An Humorous Day's Mirth_; Marston, _The Dutch
    Courtesan_; Middleton, _The Family of Love_.

  [209] Among these was Sir Richard Fanshawe's English version of the
    _Pastor fido_ (1646); after his death were published his translations
    of two plays by A. de Mendoza.

  [210] _A Short View of Tragedy_ (1693).

  [211] _The Black Prince_; _Tryphon_; _Herod the Great_; _Altemira._

  [212] _The Indian Queen._

  [213] _The Indian Emperor_; _Tyrannic Love_; _The Conquest of
    Granada._

  [214] _Essay of Dramatic Poesy._

  [215] _Essay of Heroic Plays._

  [216] A direct satirical invective against rhymed tragedy of the
    "heroic" type is to be found in Arrowsmith's comedy _Reformation_
    (1673).

  [217] _The Grounds of Criticism in Tragedy._

  [218] _All for Love (Antony and Cleopatra)._

  [219] _Don Sebastian._

  [220] _The Rival Queens_; _Lucius Junius Brutus_; _The Massacre of
    Paris._

  [221] _Don Carlos_; _The Orphan_; _Venice Preserved._

  [222] _Oroonoko_; _The Fatal Marriage._

  [223] _The Mourning Bride._

  [224] _The Fair Penitent_; _Jane Shore._

  [225] A notable influence was exercised upon English comedy as well
    as upon other branches of literature by C. de Saint-Evremond, a
    soldier and man of fashion who was possessed of great intellectual
    ability and of a charming style. Though during his long exile in
    England--from 1670 to his death--he never learned English, his
    critical works included _Remarks on English Comedy_ (1677), and one
    of his own comedies, the celebrated _Sir Politick Would-be_,
    professed to be composed "_à la manière angloise_."

  [226] _Epsom Wells_; _The Squire of Alsatia_; _The Volunteers._

  [227] A dramatic curiosity of a rare kind would be _The Female
    Rebellion_ (1682), which has been, on evidence rather striking at
    first sight, attributed to Sir Thomas Browne. It is more likely to
    have been by his son.

  [228] _The Country Wife_; _The Plain-Dealer._

  [229] _The Double Dealer._

  [230] _The Recruiting Officer_; _The Beaux' Stratagem._

  [231] _A Short View of the Immorality and Profaneness of the English
    Stage._

  [232] Sir Novelty Fashion (Lord Foppington), &c.

  [233] _The Lying Lover_; _The Tender Husband._

  [234] _The Conscious Lovers._

  [235] _The Absolute Unlawfulness of Stage Entertainments fully
    Demonstrated_; _The Stage defended_, &c. (1726).

  [236] _The Siege of Damascus._

  [237] _Mariamne._

  [238] _The Double Falsehood._

  [239] _The Revenge (Othello)._

  [240] _Fatal Curiosity._

  [241] _Irene_ (1749); _The Patriot_ attributed to Johnson, is by
    Joseph Simpson.

  [242] _Elfrida_; _Caractacus_.

  [243] _Rosamunda._

  [244] _Love in a Village_, &c.

  [245] _The Waterman_, &c.

  [246] _Pasquin_; _The Historical Register for 1736._

  [247] _The Golden Rump._

  [248] The first dramatic performance licensed by the lord chamberlain
    after the passing of the act was appropriately entitled _The Nest of
    Plays_, and consisted of three comedies named respectively _The
    Prodigal Reformed_, _In Happy Constancy_ and _The Trial of Conjugal
    Love_. It is a curious fact that in the first decade of the reign of
    George III. a severe control of the theatre was very actively exerted
    after a positive as well as a negative fashion--objectionable
    passages being ruthlessly suppressed and plays actually written and
    licensed for the purpose of upholding the existing régime.

  [249] J. Townley, _High Life Below Stairs_ (1759).

  [250] _The Minor_; _Taste_; _The Author_, &c.

  [251] This celebrated play was at first persistently attributed to
    Miss Elizabeth Carter.

  [252] _The School for Lovers._

  [253] _False Delicacy._

  [254] _The Jealous Wife_; _The Clandestine Marriage._

  [255] _The Heiress._

  [256] _The West Indian_; _The Jew._

  [257] _The Belle's Stratagem_; _A Bold Stroke for a Husband_, &c.

  [258] _The Road to Ruin_, &c.

  [259] _John Bull_; _The Heir at Law_, &c.

  [260] _Midas_; _The Golden Pippin._

  [261] _Bertram._

  [262] _Ion._

  [263] _Fazio._

  [264] _Philip van Artevelde._

  [265] _The Death of Marlowe._

  [266] _Becket_; _The Cup._

  [267] _Merope._

  [268] _The Golden Legend._

  [269] _Love is Enough._

  [270] _Strafford_; _The Blot on the Scutcheon._

  [271] _Atalanta in Calydon_; _Bothwell_; _Chastelard_; _Mary Stuart._

  [272] _Virginius_; _The Hunchback._

  [273] A drama entitled _Speculum vitae humanae_ is mentioned as
    produced by Archduke Ferdinand of the Tirol in 1584.

  [274] _Susanna_ (_Geistliches Spiel_) (1536), &c. Sixt Birk also
    brought out a play on the story of _Susanna_, which he had previously
    treated in a Latin form, in the vernacular (1552).

  [275] _Siegfried_; _Eulenspiegel_, &c.

  [276] _Susanna_; _Vincentius Ladislaus_, &c.

  [277] _Mahomet_; _Edward III._; _Hamlet_; _Romeo and Juliet_, &c.

  [278] _The Tempest_ (Ayrer, _Comedia v. d. schonen Sidea_).

  [279] _Herr Peter Squenz_ (_Pyramus and Thisbe_);
    _Horribilicribrifax_ (Pistol?).

  [280] His son, Christian Gryphius, was author of a curious dramatic
    summary (or _revue_) of German history, both literary and political;
    but the title of this school-drama is far too long for quotation.

  [281] One of his _aliases_ was _Pickelharnig_. In 1702 the electress
    Sophia is found requesting Leibniz to see whether a more satisfactory
    specimen of this class cannot be procured from Berlin than is at
    present to be found at Hanover.

  [282] Deschamps and Addison.

  [283] _Richard III._; _Romeo and Juliet_.

  [284] _Die Zwillinge_ (_The Twins_); _Die Soldaten_, &c.

  [285] _Julius von Tarent._

  [286] _Der Hofmeister_ (_The Governor_), &c.

  [287] _Genoveva_, &c.

  [288] Iffland's best play is _Die Jager_ (1785), which recently still
    held the stage. From Mannheim he in 1796 passed to Berlin by desire
    of King Frederick William II., who thus atoned for the hardships
    which he had allowed the pietistic tyranny of his minister Wollner to
    inflict upon the Prussian stage as a whole.

  [289] _Die deutschen Kleinstadter_ is his most celebrated comedy and
    _Menschenhass und Reue_ one of the most successful of his sentimental
    dramas. According to one classification he wrote 163 plays with a
    moral tendency, 5 with an immoral, and 48 doubtful.

  [290] _Der Groosskophta_ (Cagliostro); _Der Burgergeneral_.

  [291] A. W. von Schlegel and Tieck's (1797-1833).

  [292] A. W. von Schlegel, _Lectures on Dramatic Art and Literature_,
    &c.

  [293] _Zriny_, &c.

  [294] _Ion._

  [295] _Alarcos._

  [296] _Kaiser Octavianus_; _Der gestiefelte Kater_ (_Puss in Boots_),
    &c.

  [297] _Der 24. Februar_ (produced on the Weimar stage with Goethe's
   sanction).

  [298] _Der 29. Februar_; _Die Schuld_ (_Guilt_).

  [299] _Das Bild_ (_The Picture_); _Der Leuchtthurm_ (_The
    Lighthouse_).

  [300] _Die Ahnfrau_ (_The Ancestress_).

  [301] _Das Kathchen_ (_Kate_) _von Heilbronn_.

  [302] _Der zerbrochene Krug_ (_The Broken Pitcher_).

  [303] _Prinz Friedrich von Homburg._

  [304] _Sappho_, _Medea_, &c.

  [305] _Konig Ottokar's Glück und Ende_ (_Fortune and Fall_); _Der
    Bruderzwist_ (_Fraternal Feud_) _in Habsburg_.

  [306] _Die verhangnissvolle Gabel_ (_The Fatal Fork_); _Der
    romantische Oedipus_.

  [307] _Die Nibelungen_; _Judith_, &c.

  [308] _Der Erbforster._

  [309] _Uriel Acosta_; _Der Königslieutenant._

  [310] _Die Valentine._

  [311] _Die Karlsschüler._

  [312] _Der Pfarrer von Kirchfeld_; _Der Meineidbauer_; _Die
    Kreuzelschreiber_; _Das vierte Gebot_.

  [313] _The Robbers_ (Franz Moor). His next most famous part was Lear.

  [314] In connexion with the production in 1855 of "F. Halm's"
    _Fechter von Ravenna_, of which the authorship was claimed by a
    half-demented schoolmaster.

  [315] As to more recent developments of German theatrical literature
    see the article GERMAN LITERATURE, and the remarks on the influence
    of foreign works in the section on _Recent English Drama_ above.

  [316] _Aluta_; _Asotus_; _Hecastus_, &c.

  [317] _Gysbrecht van Aemstel_; _Lucifer_.

  [318] _Ulysses of Ithaca._

  [319] _The Politician-Tinman_; _Jean de France or Hans Franzen; The
    Lying-In_, &c.

  [320] _Aladdin_; _Corregio._

  [321] _Maria Stuart_; _A Bankruptcy_; _Leonarda._

  [322] _Brand_; _Peer Gynt._

  [323] _Samfundets Stöttere_; _Et Dukkehjem_; _Gengangere._

  [324] _Pan Jowialski_; _Oludki i Poeta_ (_The Misanthrope and the
    Poet_).



DRAMBURG, a town of Germany in the kingdom of Prussia, on the Drage, a
tributary of the Oder, 50 m. E. of Stettin, on the railway
Ruhnow-Neustettin. Pop. 5800. It contains an Evangelical church, a
gymnasium, a hospital and various administrative offices, and carries on
cotton and woollen weaving, tanning, brewing and distilling.



DRAMMEN, a seaport of Norway, in Buskerud and Jarlsberg-Laurvik _amter_
(counties), at the head of Drammen Fjord, a western arm of Christiania
Fjord, 33 m. by rail S. W. from Christiania. Pop. (1900) 23,093. Its
situation, at the mouth of the broad Drammen river, between lofty hills,
is very beautiful. It is the junction of railways from Christiania to
Haugsund, Kongsberg and Hönefos, and to Laurvik and Skien. The town is
modern, having suffered from fires in 1866, 1870 and 1880. It consists
of three parts: Bragernaes on the north, divided by the river from
Strömsö and the port, Tangen, on the south. The prosperity of Drammen
depends mainly on the timber trade; and saw-milling is an active
industry, the logs being floated down the river from the upland
forests. Timber and wood-pulp are exported (over half of each to Great
Britain), with paper, ice and some cobalt and nickel ore. The chief
imports are British coal and German machinery. Salmon are taken in the
upper reaches of the Drammen.



DRANE, AUGUSTA THEODOSIA (1823-1894), English writer, was born at
Bromley, near Bow, on the 29th of December 1823. Brought up in the
Anglican creed, she fell under the influence of Tractarian teaching at
Torquay, and joined the Roman Catholic Church in 1850. She wrote, and
published anonymously, an essay questioning the _Morality of
Tractarianism_, which was attributed to John Henry Newman. In 1852,
after a prolonged stay in Rome, she joined the third order of St
Dominic, to which she belonged for over forty years. She was prioress
(1872-1881) of the Stone convent in Staffordshire, where she died on the
29th of April 1894. Her chief works in prose and verse are: _The History
of Saint Dominic_ (1857; enlarged edition, 1891); _The Life of St
Catherine of Siena_ (1880; 2nd ed., 1899); _Christian Schools and
Scholars_ (1867); _The Knights of St John_ (1858); _Songs in the Night_
(1876); and the _Three Chancellors_ (1859), a sketch of the lives of
William of Wykeham, William of Waynflete and Sir Thomas More.

  A complete list of her writings is given in the _Memoir of Mother
  Francis Raphael, O.S.D., Augusta Theodosia Drane_, edited by B.
  Wilberforce, O.P. (London, 1895).



DRAPER, JOHN WILLIAM (1811-1882), American scientist, was born at St
Helen's, near Liverpool, on the 5th of May 1811. He studied at Woodhouse
Grove, at the University of London, and, after removing to America in
1832, at the medical school of the University of Pennsylvania in
1835-1836. In 1837 he was elected professor of chemistry in the
University of the City of New York, and was a professor in its school of
medicine in 1840-1850, president of that school in 1850-1873, and
professor of chemistry until 1881. He died at Hastings, New York, on the
4th of January 1882. He made important researches in photo-chemistry,
made portrait photography possible by his improvements (1839) on
Daguerre's process, and published a _Text-book on Chemistry_ (1846),
_Text-book on Natural Philosophy_ (1847), _Text-book on Physiology_
(1866), and _Scientific Memoirs_ (1878) on radiant energy. He is well
known also as the author of _The History of the Intellectual Development
of Europe_ (1862), applying the methods of physical science to history,
a _History of the American Civil War_ (3 vols., 1867-1870), and a
_History of the Conflict between Religion and Science_ (1874).

His son, HENRY DRAPER (1837-1882), graduated at the University of New
York in 1858, became professor of natural science there in 1860, and was
professor of physiology (in the medical school) and dean of the faculty
in 1866-1873. He succeeded his father as professor of chemistry, but
only for a year, dying in New York on the 20th of November 1882. Henry
Draper's most important contributions to science were made in
spectroscopy; he ruled metal gratings in 1869-1870, made valuable
spectrum photographs after 1871, and proved the presence of oxygen in
the sun in a monograph of 1877. Edward C. Pickering carried on his study
of stellar spectra with the funds of the Henry Draper Memorial at
Harvard, endowed by his widow (_née_ Mary Anna Palmer).

  See accounts by George F. Barker in _Biographical Memoirs of the
  National Academy of Science_, vols. 2 and 3 (Washington, 1886, 1888).



DRAPER, one who deals in cloth or textiles generally. The Fr. _drap_,
cloth, from which _drapier_ and Eng. "draper" are derived, is of obscure
origin. It is possible that the Low Lat. _drappus_ or _trappus_ (the
last form giving the Eng. "trappings") may be connected with words such
as "drub," Ger. _treffen_, beat; the original sense would be fulled
cloth. "Drab," dull, pale, brown, is also connected, its first meaning
being a cloth of a natural undyed colour. The Drapers' Company is one of
the great livery companies of the city of London. The fraternity is of
very early origin. Henry Fitz-Alwyn (d. 1212?), the first mayor of
London, is said to have been a draper. The first charter was granted in
1364. The Drapers' Gild was one of the numerous subdivisions of the
clothing trade, and appeared to have been confined to the retailing of
woollen cloths, the linen-drapers forming in the 15th century a separate
fraternity, which disappeared or was merged in the greater company. It
is usual for drapers to combine the sale of "drapery," i.e. of textiles
generally, with that of millinery, hosiery, &c. In _Wills_ v. _Adams_
(reported in _The Times_, London, Nov. 20, 1908), the term "drapery" in
a restrictive covenant was held not to include all goods that a draper
might sell, such as furs or fur-lined goods.



DRAUGHT (from the common Teutonic word "to draw"; cf. Ger. _Tracht_,
load; the pronunciation led to the variant form "draft," now confined to
certain specific meanings), the act or action of drawing, extending,
pulling, &c. It is thus applied to animals used for drawing vehicles or
loads, "draught oxen," &c., to the quantity of fish taken by one "drag"
of a net, to a quantity of liquid taken or "drawn in" to the mouth, and
to a current of air in a chimney, a room or other confined space. In
furnaces the "draught" is "natural" when not increased artificially, or
"forced" when increased by mechanical methods (see BOILER). The water a
ship "draws," or her "draught," is the depth to which she sinks in the
water as measured from her keel. The word was formerly used of a "move"
in chess or similar games, and is thus, in the plural, the general
English name of the game known also as "checkers" (see DRAUGHTS). The
spelling "draft" is generally employed in the following usages. It is a
common term for a written order "drawn on" a banker or other holder of
funds for the payment of money to a third person; thus a cheque (q.v.)
is a draft. A special form of draft is a "banker's draft," an
instruction by one bank to another bank, or to a branch of the bank
making the instruction, to pay a sum of money to the order of a certain
specified person. Other meanings of "draft" are an outline, plan or
sketch, or a preliminary drawing up of an instrument, measure, document,
&c., which, after alteration and amendment, will be embodied in a final
or formal shape; an allowance made by merchants or importers to those
who sell by retail, to make up a loss incurred in weighing or measuring;
and a detachment or body of troops "drawn off" for a specific purpose,
usually a reinforcement from the depot or reserve units to those abroad
or in the field. For the use of the term "draft" or "draught" in masonry
and architecture see DRAFTED MASONRY.



DRAUGHTS (from A.S. _dragan_, to draw), a game played with pieces (or
"men") called draughtsmen on a board marked in squares of two alternate
colours. The game is called Checkers in America, and is known to the
French as _Les Dames_ and to the Germans as _Damenspiel_. Though the
game is not mentioned in the _Complete Gamester_, nor the _Académie de
jeux_, and is styled a "modern invention" by Strutt, yet a somewhat
similar game was known to the Egyptians, some of the pieces used having
been found in tombs at least as old as 1600 B.C., and part of Anect
Hat-Shepsa's board and some of her men are to be seen in the Egyptian
gallery of the British Museum. An Egyptian vase also shows a lion and an
antelope playing at draughts, with five men each, the lion making the
winning move and seizing the bag or purse that contains the stakes.
Plato ascribes the invention of the game of [Greek: pessoi], or
draughts, to Thoth, the Egyptian Hermes Trismegistus, and Homer
represents Penelope's suitors as playing it (_Odyss._ i. 107). In one
form of the game as played by the Greeks there were 25 squares, and each
player had 5 men which were probably moved along the lines. In another
there were 4 men and 16 squares with a "sacred enclosure," a square of
the same size as the others, marked in the exact centre and bisected by
one of the horizontal lines, which was known as the "sacred line." From
the incident in the game of a piece hemmed in on this line by a rival
piece having to be pushed forward as a last resort, arose the phrase "to
move the man from the sacred line" as synonymous with being hard
pressed. This and other phrases based on incidents in the game testify
to the vogue the game enjoyed in ancient Greece. The Roman game of
_Latrunculi_ was similar, but there were officers (kings in modern
draughts) as well as men. When a player's pieces were all hemmed in he
was stale-mated, to use a chess phrase (_ad incitas redactus est_), and
lost the game. Other explanations of this phrase are, however, given
(see _Les Jeux des anciens_, by Becq de Fouquières). The fullest account
of the Roman game is to be found in the _De laude Pisonis_, written by
an anonymous contemporary of Nero (see CALPURNIUS, TITUS). Unfortunately
the texts are full of obscurities, so that it is difficult to make any
definite statements as to how the game was played.

As early as the 11th century some form of the game was practised by the
Norsemen, for in the Icelandic saga of Grettir the Strong the board and
men are mentioned more than once.

The history of the modern forms of the game starts with _El Ingenio o
juego de marro, de punto o damas_, published by Torquemada at Valencia
in 1547. Another Spaniard, Juan Garcia Canalejas, is said to have
published in 1610 the first edition of his work, a better-known edition
of which appeared in 1650. The third Spanish classic, that of Joseph
Carlos Garcez, was printed in Madrid in 1684. It is noteworthy that in
an illustration in Garcez's book the pieces depicted resemble somewhat
some of those used by the Egyptians, and are not unlike the pawns used
in chess.

In 1668 Pierre Mallet had published the first French work on the game,
and elementary though his knowledge of the game seems to have been, even
in comparison with that of Canalejas or Garcez, the historical notes,
rules and instructions which he gave, served as a basis for many later
works. Mallet wrote on _Le Jeu de dames à la française_, which was
almost identical with the modern English game. The old French game is,
however, no longer practised in France, having been superseded by _Le
Jeu de dames à la polonaise_. Manoury gives reasons for believing that
the latter game originated in Paris about 1727.

About 1736 a famous player named Laclef published the first book on
Polish draughts, but the first important book on the game is Manoury's
_Jeu de dames à la polonaise_, in the production of which it is said
that the author had the assistance of Diderot and other
_encyclopédistes_. This book, which appeared in 1787, was to the new
game all that Mallet's was to the old French game, and until the
appearance of Poirson Prugneaux's _Encyclopédie du jeu de dames_ in 1855
it remained the standard authority on so-called Polish draughts. The
Polish game early attained popularity in Holland, and in 1785 the
standard Dutch work, Ephraim van Embden's _Verhandeling over het
Damspel_, was produced. In German-speaking countries the progress of the
new game was slower, and the works produced in the first half of the
19th century generally treat of the older game as well as the Polish
game. This is also the case with Petroff's book published in St
Petersburg in 1827; and similarly Zongono's, which dates from 1832,
deals with the new game and with the older Italian game.

In 1694 Hyde wrote _Historia dami ludi seu latrinculorum_, in which he
tried to prove the identity of draughts with _ludus latrinculorum_. This
work is historical and descriptive, but contains nothing concerning the
game as played in Great Britain. The authentic history of draughts in
England commences with William Payne's _Introduction to the Game of
Draughts_, the dedication of which was written by Samuel Johnson.
Payne's games and problems were incorporated in a much more important
work, namely Sturges's _Guide to the Game of Draughts_, which appeared
in 1800 and has gone through a score of editions. About this time the
game was much practised in both England and Scotland, but the first
important production of the Scottish school was Drummond's _Scottish
Draught Player_, the first part of which dates from 1838, additional
volumes appearing in 1851-1853 and 1861. In 1852 Andrew Anderson
published his _Game of Draughts Simplified_. A first edition had
appeared in 1848, but the later print is the important one, as it
standardized the laws of the game, fixed the nomenclature of the
openings, introduced a better arrangement of the play, and, since
Anderson was one of the finest players of the game, excelled in
accuracy. In Anderson's time little was known about the openings
commencing with any move other than 11-15, and it was not until more
than thirty years later that the other openings received more adequate
recognition. This was done in Robertson's _Guide to the Game of
Draughts_, and perhaps better in Lees' _Guide_ (1892).

Andrew Anderson was the first recognized British champion player of the
game. He and Wyllie, better known as "the herd laddie," contested five
matches for the honour, Anderson winning four to Wyllie's one. After his
victory in 1847 Anderson retired from match play and the title fell to
Wyllie, who made the game his profession and travelled all over the
English-speaking world to play it. In 1872 he successfully defended his
position against Martins, the English champion, and in 1874 against W.
R. Barker, the American champion, but two years later he was beaten by
Yates, a young American. On the latter's retirement from the game, the
championship lapsed to Wyllie, who held it successfully until his defeat
by Ferrie, the Scottish champion, in 1894. Two years later Ferrie was
beaten in his turn by Richard Jordan of Edinburgh, who had just gained
the Scottish championship; and the new holder defeated Stewart, who
challenged him in 1897, and successfully defended his title against C.
F. Barker, the American champion, to meet whom he visited Boston in 1900
and played a drawn match.

In 1884 the first international match between England and Scotland took
place, and resulted in so decisive a victory for the northerners that
the contest was not renewed for ten years. The matches played in 1894
and 1899 also went strongly in favour of the Scots, but in 1903 the
Englishmen gained their first victory.

In 1905 a British team visited America and defeated a side representing
the United States.

The tournament for the Scottish championship has been held annually in
Glasgow since 1893. The number and skill of the Scottish players have
given this tournament its pre-eminence; but if the levelling up of the
standards of play in Scotland and England continues, the competition
which is held biennially by the English Draughts Association is likely
to rank as a serious rival to the Glasgow tourney.

_The English Game._--Draughts as played now in English-speaking
countries is a game for two persons with a board and twenty-four
men--twelve white and twelve black--which at starting are placed as
follows: the black men on the squares numbered 1 to 12, and the white
men on the squares numbered 21 to 32 on the diagram below. In printed
diagrams the men are usually shown on the white squares for the sake of
clearness, but in actual play the black squares are generally used now.
In playing on the black squares the board must be placed with a black
square in the left-hand corner. The game is played by moving a man
forward, one square at a time except when making a capture, along the
diagonals to the right or left. Thus a white man placed on square 18 in
the diagram can move to 15 or 14. Each player moves alternately, black
always moving first. If a player touch a piece he must move that piece
and no other. If the piece cannot be moved, or if it is not the player's
turn to move, he forfeits the game. As soon as a man reaches one of the
squares farthest from his side of the board, he is "crowned" by having
one of the unused or captured men of his own colour placed on him, and
becomes a "king." A king has the power of moving and taking backwards as
well as forwards.

               BLACK.
  +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+
  |   | 1 |   | 2 |   | 3 |   | 4 |
  +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+
  | 5 |   | 6 |   | 7 |   | 8 |   |
  +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+
  |   | 9 |   |10 |   |11 |   |12 |
  +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+
  |13 |   |14 |   |15 |   |16 |   |
  +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+
  |   |17 |   |18 |   |19 |   |20 |
  +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+
  |21 |   |22 |   |23 |   |24 |   |
  +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+
  |   |25 |   |26 |   |27 |   |28 |
  +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+
  |29 |   |30 |   |31 |   |32 |   |
  +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+
               WHITE.

If a man is on the square adjacent to an opponent's man, and there is an
unoccupied square beyond, the unprotected man must be captured and
removed from the board. Thus, if there is a white man on square 18, and
a black man on square 14, square 9 being vacant, and white having to
move, he jumps over 14 and remains on square 9, and the man on 14 is
taken up.

If two or more men are so placed that one square intervenes between
each they may all be taken at one move. Thus if white having to move has
a man on 28, and black men on 24, 16 and 8, the intermediate squares and
square 3 being vacant, white could move from 28 to 3, touching 19 and 12
en route, and take the men on 24, 16, and 8; but if there is a piece on
7 and square 10 is vacant, the piece on 7 cannot be captured, for
becoming a king ends the move.

It is compulsory to take if possible. If a player can take a man (or a
series of men) but makes a move that does not capture (or does not
capture all that is possible), his adversary may allow the move to
stand, or he may have the move retracted and compel the player to take,
or he may allow the move to stand and remove the piece, that neglected
to capture from the board (called "huffing"). "Huff and move" go
together, i.e. the player who huffs then makes his move. When one player
has lost all his pieces, or has all those left on the board blocked, he
loses the game.

The game is drawn when neither of the players has sufficient advantage
in force or position to enable him to win.

The losing game, or "first off the board," is a form of draughts not
much practised now by expert draught players. The player wins who gets
all his pieces taken first. There is no "huffing"; a player who can take
must do so.

  _Draughts Openings._--As there are seven possible first moves, with
  seven possible replies to each, or forty-nine in all, there is an
  abundant variety of openings; but as two of these (9-14, 21-17 and
  10-14, 21-17) are obviously unsound, the number is really reduced to
  forty-seven. Much difference of opinion exists regarding the relative
  strength of the various openings. It was at one time generally held
  that for the black side 11-15 was the best opening move.

  Towards the end of the 19th century this view became much modified,
  and though 11-15 still remained the favourite, it was recognized that
  10-15, 9-14 and 11-16 were little, if at all, inferior; 10-14 and
  12-16 were rightly rated as weaker than the four moves named above,
  whilst 9-13, the favourite of the "unscientific" player, was found to
  be weakest of all.

  The white replies to 11-15 have gone through many vicissitudes. The
  seven possible moves have each at different times figured as the
  general favourite. Thus 24-19, which analysis proved to be the weakest
  of the seven, was at one period described by the title of "Wyllie's
  Invincible." In course of time it came to be regarded as decidedly
  weak, and its name was altered to the less pretentious title of
  "Second Double Corner." In the Scottish Tournament of 1894 this
  opening was played between Ferrie and Stewart, and the latter won the
  game with white, introducing new play which has stood the test of
  analysis, and so rehabilitating the opening in public favour. The
  21-17 reply to 11-15 was introduced by Wyllie, who was so successful
  with it that it became known as the "Switcher." This opening perhaps
  lacks the solid strength of some of the others, but it so abounds in
  traps as to be well worthy of its name. The other five replies to
  11-15, namely 24-20, 23-19, 23-18, 22-18 and 22-17, are productive of
  games which give equal chances to both sides.

  The favourite replies to 10-15 are 23-18, 22-18 and 21-17, but they do
  not appear to be appreciably stronger than the others, with the
  possible exception of 24-20.

  In response to 11-16, 23-18 is held to give white a trifling
  advantage, but it is more apparent than real. With the exception of
  23-19, which is weak, the other replies are of equal strength, and are
  only slightly, if at all, inferior to the more popular 23-18. 9-14 is
  most frequently encountered by 22-18, but all white's replies are
  good, except of course 21-17 which loses a man, and 23-18 which
  weakens the centre of white's position.

  Against 10-14 the most popular move is 22-17, which gives white an
  advantage. Next in strength come 22-18 and 24-19. 23-18 is weak.

  The strongest reply to 12-16 is 24-20. The others, except 23-19, which
  is weak, give no initial advantage to either side.

  As already mentioned, 9-13 is black's weakest opening move, both 22-18
  and 24-19 giving white a distinct advantage. Nevertheless 9-13 is a
  favourite début with certain expert players, especially when playing
  with inferior opponents.

  The term "opening" is frequently applied in a more restricted sense
  than that used above. When practically all games started with 11-15 it
  was convenient to assign names to the more popular lines of play. Thus
  11-15, 23-19, 8-11, 22-17, if followed by 11-16, was called the
  "Glasgow"; if followed by 9-13, 17-14, the "Laird and Lady"; if by
  3-8, the "Alma."

  The variety possible in the opening is a fair reply to the objection
  sometimes heard that the game does not afford sufficient scope for
  variation. As a matter of fact a practically unlimited number of
  different games might be played on any one opening.

  The three following games are typical examples of the play arising
  from three of the most frequently played openings:--

        Game No. 1.--"Ayrshire Lassie" Opening.

    a 11-15  25-18    10-15  22-17  b 15-18  24-6
    a 24-20   3-8     23-19  13-22    24-20   2-9
       8-11  26-22     6-10  26-17    18-27  17-10
                   c}
      28-24   5-9  d} 27-23  11-16    31-24   8-11

       9-13  30-26     9-14  20-11    16-23   Drawn.
      22-18   1-5     18-9    7-16    20-16  R. Jordan.
      15-22  32-28     5-14  29-25    12-19

  a. 11-15, 24-20 forms the "Ayrshire Lassie" opening, so named by
  Wyllie. It is generally held to admit of unusual scope for the display
  of critical and brilliant combinations.

  b. 16-20, 25-22, 20-27, 31-24, 8-11, 17-13, 2-6, 21-17, 14-21, 22-17,
  21-25, 17-14, 10-17, 19-1. Drawn. R. Jordan.

                         (c)

      26-23  28-19  20-16   7-11  14-10  15-10
       9-14   2-6    6-10  19-24  26-23  23-18
      18-9   20-11  16-11  11-18  10-7   10-15
       5-14   8-24  10-15  24-27   4-8   20-16
      29-25  27-20  11-7   18-15   7-3   15-22
      11-16  10-15  14-18  27-31   8-12  16-7
      20-11  31-26   7-3   22-18   3-7   Drawn.
       7-16  15-19  18-23  31-27  27-24 A. B. Scott.
      24-20  23-16   3-7   18-14   7-11     v.
      15-24  12-19  23-30  30-26  24-20 R. Jordan.

                         (d)

      19-16   7-10  23-19  11-15  16-11  25-30
      12-19   6-1   15-24  27-24  18-25  20-16
      22-17   9-14  28-19  22-25  17-14  Drawn.
      15-22  26-23   8-11  29-22  10-17 R. Jordan.
      24-6   11-15  19-16  14-18  21-14

            Game No. 2.--"Kelso-Cross" Opening.

    a 10-15    8-12  13-22   5-9   14-18  22-25
    a 23-18   25-21  26-17  20-16  17-14  29-22
      12-16    1-6 d 19-26   2-7   10-17  17-26
      21-17   32-27  30-23  24-19  21-14   5-1
       9-13   12-16  15-22  15-24   6-10  26-30
      17-14   27-23  24-19  23-19  14-9    1-5
      16-19    7-10   9-14  24-27  10-14  30-26
      24-20   14-7   19-12  31-24  19-15   5-9
       6-9     3-10  11-15   9-13  14-17  26-23
    b 27-24 c 22-17  28-24  24-20   9-5    Drawn.
                                        R. Jordan.

  a. These two moves form the "Kelso-Cross" opening.

  b. 27-23 is also a strong line for white to adopt.

  c. 30-25, 4-8, 18-14, 9-27, 22-18, 15-22, 24-15, 11-18, 20-4, 27-32,
  26-17, 13-22, 4-8, 22-26, and black appears to have a winning
  advantage. R. Jordan.

  d. Taking the piece on 18 first seems to lose, thus:--

    15-22  e 9-13  13-17   6-9    5-14
    24-8    17-14  23-18  14-10  10-7   White
     4-11   10-17  17-21   9-14   2-6   wins.
    31-27   21-14  28-24  18-9    7-2   Dallas.

  e. 2-7, 27-24, 22-26, 23-18, 26-31, 18-15, 11-18, 20-2, 9-13, 2-9,
  5-14, 24-19, 13-22, 30-26. White wins.

            Game No. 3.--"Dundee" Opening.

      12-16    11-15  c 8-12   4-8    9-14   1-26
      24-20    20-11   17-13  18-15  26-22  31-22
       8-12     7-16    5-9    2-7   14-17  19-23
      28-24    24-20   22-18  30-26  21-14  13-9
       9-14  b 16-19   15-22  10-14  18-23  12-19
      22-17    23-16   25-18  29-25  27-18   9-6
       3-8     12-19   14-23  14-18   6-10   7-11
    a 26-22    20-16   27-18  32-27  15-6   Drawn.
                                         R. Jordan.

  a. This move is the favourite at this point on account of its
  "trappiness," but 25-22 is probably stronger, thus: 25-22, 16-19,
  24-15, 11-25, 29-22, 8-11, 17-13, 11-16, 20-11, 7-16, and white can
  with advantage continue by 27-24, 22-17, 23-19 or 22-18.

  b. 15-19, 20-11, 8-15, 23-16, 12-19, 17-13, 5-9, 30-26, 4-8, 27-23,
  8-12, 23-16, 12-19, 31-27, 1-5, 27-23, 19-24, 32-27, 24-31, 22-17.
  White wins. C. F. Barker.

    c 8-11  27-18  15-18  14-10  24-27   7-10
     16-7   15-22  14-10  19-24  31-24  27-31
      2-11  25-18   6-15  10-7   16-20  10-26
     22-18  10-15  17-14  18-23   3-7   31-22
     14-23  18-14  11-16   7-3   20-27  30-25
               Drawn. R. Stewart v. R. Jordan.

  Problem No. 1 is the simplest form of that known to draughts-players
  as the "First Position." It is of more frequent occurrence in actual
  play than any other end-game, and is, besides, typical of a class of
  draughts problems which may be described as analytical, in
  contradistinction to "strokes."

       Problem No. 1, by Wm. Payne.
                  BLACK.
    +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+
    |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |
    +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+
    |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |
    +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+
    |   |   |   |   |   |   |   | B |
    +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+
    |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |
    +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+
    |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |
    +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+
    |   |   |   |   |WW |   |   |   |
    +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+
    |   |   |   |   |   |WW |   |BB |
    +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+
    |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |   |
    +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+
                  WHITE.

         White to move and win.

  Solution:--

        27-32   18-15 15-11 11-15 28-32 19-24
        28-24 2-28-24 12-16 19-24 27-31 White
        23-18   32-28 28-32 32-28 15-19 wins.
    3-a-24-28 1-24-20 16-19 24-27 31-26

  a. 12-16 same as Var. I. at 5th move.

  Var. I.

    24-27   18-15 19-16 28-32  8-12  15-11
    15-18 b 16-20 18-23  8-12 23-18 White
    12-16   15-18 16-11 32-27 12-8  wins.
    28-32   24-19 23-19 12-8  18-15
    27-24   32-28 11-8  27-23  8-12

  b. 24-28 same as Var. II. at 1st move.

  Var. II. 12-16, 15-11, 16-19, 32-27, 28-32, 27-31, 32-28, 11-16,
  19-23, 16-19. White wins.

  Var. III. 24-19, 32-28, c 19-16, 28-24, 16-11, 24-20, 11-8, 18-15.
  White wins.

  c. 12-16, 28-32, 19-24 or 16-20, same as Var. II. at 5th and 9th moves
  respectively. White wins.

              Problem No. 2.
                  BLACK.
    +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+
    |   | B |   |   |   | B |   |   |
    +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+
    | B |   |   |   | B |   | B |   |
    +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+
    |   |   |   | W |   | B |   |   |
    +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+
    | B |   | W |   |   |   | B |   |
    +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+
    |   | B |   | W |   |   |   | B |
    +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+
    | W |   | W |   |   |   | W |   |
    +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+
    |   |   |   | W |   | W |   |   |
    +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+
    |   |   | W |   |   |   | W |   |
    +---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+
                  WHITE.

          White to move and win.

  Problem No. 2 is a fine example of another class of problems, namely,
  "strokes." It is formed from the "Paisley" opening, thus:--

    11-16  22-17  11-16  26-19   9-13   15-10
    24-19   9-13  25-21   4-8   25-22  a 2-7
     8-11  17-14   6-9   29-25   7-11
    28-24  10-17  23-18  13-17  19-15
    16-20  21-14  16-23  31-26  12-16

  a. This forms the position on the diagram. The solution is as
  follows:--

    27-23  7-14  18-9   14-23  26-3
    20-27  9-6    5-14  21-7   27-31
    14-9   1-10  23-18   3-10   3-7

  White wins. Jacques and Campbell.

  _Other Varieties._--The forms of draughts practised on the European
  continent differ in some respects from the English variety, chiefly in
  respect of the power assigned to a man after "crowning." The game of
  _Polish Draughts_ is played in France, Holland, Belgium and Poland,
  where it has entirely superseded _Le Jeu de dames à la française_. It
  is played on a board of 100 squares with 20 men a side. The men move
  and capture as in English draughts, except that in capturing they move
  either forward or backward. A crowned man becomes a queen, and can
  move any number of squares along the diagonal. In her capture she
  takes any unguarded man or queen in any diagonal she commands, leaping
  over the captured man or queen and remaining on any unoccupied square
  she chooses of the same diagonal, beyond the piece taken. But if there
  is another unguarded man she is bound to choose the diagonal on which
  it can be taken. For example (using an English draught-board) place a
  queen on square 29 and adverse men at squares 22, 16, 24, 14. The
  queen is bound to move from 29 to 11, 20, 27, and having made the
  captures to remain at 9 or 5, whichever she prefers. The capturing
  queen or man must take all the adverse pieces that are _en prise_, or
  that become so by the uncovering of any square from which a piece has
  been removed during the capture, e.g. white queen at square 7, black
  at squares 10, 18, 19, 22 and 27, the queen captures at 10, 22, 27 and
  19, and the piece at 22 being now removed, she must go to 15, take the
  man at 18, and stay at 22, 25 or 29. In consequence of the intricacy
  of some of these moves, it is customary to remove every captured piece
  as it is taken. If a man arrives at a crowning square when taking, and
  he can still continue to take, he must do so, and not stay on the
  crowning square as at draughts. Passing a crowning square in taking
  does not entitle him to be made a queen. In capturing, the player must
  choose the direction by which he can take the greatest number of men
  or queens, or he may be huffed. Numerical power is the criterion, e.g.
  three men must be taken in preference to two queens. If the numbers
  are equal and one force comprises more queens than the other, the
  player may take whichever lot he chooses. This form of draughts,
  played on a board of 144 squares with 30 men a side, is extensively
  practised by British soldiers in India.

  The German _Damenspiel_ is Polish draughts played on a board of the
  same size and with the same number of men as in the English game. It
  is sometimes called Minor Polish draughts, and is practised in Germany
  and Russia.

  The _Italian game_ differs from the English in two important
  particulars--a man may not take a king, and when a player has the
  option of capturing pieces in more than one way he must take in the
  manner which captures most pieces. There is a difference too in the
  placing of the board, the black square in the corner of the board
  being at the player's right hand, but until a king is obtained the
  differences from the English system are unimportant in practice.

  In _Spanish draughts_ the board is set as for the Italian game. The
  men move as in English draughts, but, in capturing, the largest
  possible number of pieces must be taken, and the king has the same
  powers as in the Polish game. The game does not differ essentially
  from the English game until a king is obtained, and many games from
  Spanish works will be found incorporated in English books. Sometimes
  the game is played with 11 men and a king, or 10 men and 2 kings a
  side, instead of the regulation 12 men.

  _Turkish draughts_ differs widely from all other modern varieties of
  the game. It is played on a board of 64 squares, all of which are used
  in play. Each player has 16 pieces, which are not placed on the two
  back rows of squares, as in chess, but on the second and third back
  rows. The pieces do not move diagonally as in other forms of the game,
  but straight forward or to the right or left horizontally. The king
  has the same command of a horizontal or vertical row of squares that
  the queen in Polish draughts has over a diagonal. Capturing is
  compulsory, and the greatest possible number of pieces must be taken,
  captured pieces being removed one at a time as taken.

  AUTHORITIES.--Falkener's _Games Ancient and Oriental_; Lees' _Guide to
  the Game of Draughts_; Drummond's _Scottish Draught Players_ (Kear's
  reprint); Gould's _Memorable Matches_ and _Book of Problems_, &c. The
  _Draughts World_ is the principal magazine devoted to the game. In
  Dunne's _Draught Players' Guide and Companion_ a section is devoted to
  the non-English varieties.     (J. M. M. D.; R. J.)



DRAUPADI, in Hindu legend, the daughter of Drupada, king of Panchala,
and wife of the five Pandava princes. She is an important character in
the _Mahabharata_.



DRAVE, or DRAVA (Ger. _Drau_, Hung. _Dráva_, Lat. _Dravus_), one of the
principal right-bank affluents of the Danube, flowing through Austria
and Hungary. It rises below the Innichner Eck, near the Toblacher Feld
in Tirol, at an altitude of a little over 4000 ft., runs eastward, and
forms the longest longitudinal valley of the Alps. The Drave has a total
length of 450 m., while the length of its Alpine valley to Marburg is
150 m., and to its junction with the Mur 250 m. Owing to its great
extent and easy accessibility the valley of the Drave was the principal
road through which the invading peoples of the East, as the Huns, the
Slavs and the Turks, penetrated the Alpine countries. The Drave flows
through Carinthia and Styria, and enters Hungary near Friedau, where up
to its confluence with the Danube, at Almas, 14 m. E. of Esseg, it forms
the boundary between that country and Croatia-Slavonia. At its mouth the
Drave attains a breadth of 1055 ft. and a depth of 20 ft. The Drave is
navigable for rafts only from Villach, and for steamers from Bárcs, a
distance of 95 m. The principal affluents of the Drave are: on the left
the Isel, the Gurk, the Lavant, and the largest of all, the Mur; and on
the right the Gail and the Drann.



DRAVIDIAN (Sanskrit _Dravida_), the name given to a collection of Indian
peoples, and their family of languages[1] comprising all the principal
forms of speech of Southern India. Their territory, which also includes
the northern half of Ceylon, extends northwards up to an irregular line
drawn from a point on the Arabian Sea about 100 m. below Goa along the
Western Ghats as far as Kolhapur, thence north-east through Hyderabad,
and farther eastwards to the Bay of Bengal. Farther to the north we find
Dravidian dialects spoken by small tribes in the Central Provinces and
Chota Nagpur, and even up to the banks of the Ganges in the Rajmahal
hills. A Dravidian dialect is, finally, spoken by the Br[=a]h[=u][=i]s
of Baluchistan in the far north-west. The various Dravidian languages,
with the number of speakers returned at the census of 1901, are as
follows:--

  Tamil             17,494,901
  Malay[=a]lam       6,022,131
  Kanarese          10,368,515
  Tulu                 535,210
  Kodagu                39,191
  Toda                     805
  K[=o]ta                1,300
  Kuru[chi]            609,721
  Malto                 60,777
  G[=o]nd[=i]        1,125,479
  Kui                  494,099
  Telugu            20,697,264
  Br[=a]h[=u][=i]       48,589
                    ----------
  Total             57,497,982

Of these Tamil and Malay[=a]lam can be considered as two dialects of one
and the same language, which is, in its turn, closely related to
Kanarese. Tulu, Kodagu, Toda and K[=o]ta can be described as lying
between Tamil-Malay[=a]lam and Kanarese, though they are more nearly
related to the latter than to the former. The same is the case with
Kuru[chi] and Malto, while Kui and G[=o]nd[=i] gradually approach
Telugu, which latter language seems to have branched off from the common
stock at an early date. Finally, the Br[=a]h[=u][=i] dialect of
Baluchistan has been so much influenced by other languages that it is no
longer a pure Dravidian form of speech.

The Dravidian languages have for ages been restricted to the territory
they occupy at the present day. Moreover, they are gradually losing
ground in the north, where they meet with Aryan forms of speech. If we
compare the caste tables and the language tables in the Indian census of
1901 we find that only 1,125,479 out of the 2,286,913 G[=o]nds returned
were stated to speak the Dravidian G[=o]nd[=i]. Similarly only 1505 out
of 17,187 K[=o]l[=a]ms entered their language as K[=o]l[=a]m[=i]. Such
tribes are gradually becoming Hinduized. Their language adopts an
ever-increasing Aryan element till it is quite superseded by Aryan
speech. In the north-eastern part of the Dravidian territory, to the
east of Chanda and Bhandara, the usual state of affairs is that
Dravidian dialects are spoken in the hills while Aryan forms of speech
prevail in the plains. The Dravidian Kui thus stands out as an isolated
island in the sea of Aryan speech.

This process has been going on from time immemorial. The Dravidians were
already settled in India when the Aryans arrived from the north-west.
The fair Aryans were at once struck by their dark hue, and named them
accordingly _krisna tvac_, the black skin. In the course of time,
however, the two races began to mix, and it is still possible to trace a
Dravidian element in the Aryan languages of North India.

The teaching of anthropology is to the same effect. Most speakers of
Dravidian languages belong to a distinct anthropological type which is
known as the Dravidian. "The Dravidian race," says Sir H. Risley, "the
most primitive of the Indian types, occupies the oldest geological
formation in India, the medley of forest-clad ranges, terraced plateaus,
and undulating plains which stretches, roughly speaking, from the
Vindhyas to Cape Comorin. On the east and west of the peninsular area
the domain of the Dravidian is conterminous with the Ghats, while
farther north it reaches on one side to the Aravallis and on the other
to the Rajmahal hills."

This territory is the proper home of the race. A strong Dravidian
element can, however, also be traced in the population of northern
India. In Kashmir and Punjab, where the Aryans had already settled in
those prehistoric times when the Vedic hymns were composed, the
prevailing type is the Aryan one. The same is the case in Rajputana.
From the eastern frontier of the Punjab, on the other hand, and
eastwards, a Dravidian element can be traced. This is the case in the
valleys of the Ganges and the Jumna, where the Aryans only settled at a
later period. Anthropologists also state that there is a Dravidian
element in the population of western India, from Gujarat to Coorg.

It is thus probable that Dravidian languages have once been spoken in
many tracts which are now occupied by Aryan forms of speech. The
existence of a Dravidian dialect in Baluchistan seems to show that
Dravidian settlers have once lived in those parts. The tribe in
question, the Br[=a]h[=u][=i]s, are, however, now Eranians and not
Dravidians by race, and it is not probable that there has ever been a
numerous Dravidian population in Baluchistan. The Br[=a]h[=u][=i]s are
most likely the descendants of settlers from the south.

There is no indication that the Dravidians have entered India from
outside or superseded an older population. For all practical purposes
they can accordingly be considered as the aborigines of the Deccan,
whence they appear to have spread over part of northern India. Their
languages form an isolated group, and it has not been possible to prove
a connexion with any other family of languages. Such attempts have been
made with reference to the Munda family, the Tibeto-Burman languages,
and the dialects spoken by the aborigines of the Australian continent.
The arguments adduced have not, however, proved to be sufficient, and
only the Australian hypothesis can still lay claim to some probability.
Till it has been more closely tested we must therefore consider the
Dravidian family as an isolated group of languages, with several
characteristic features of its own.

  The pronunciation is described as soft and mellifluous. Abruptness and
  hard combinations of sounds are avoided. There is, for example, a
  distinct tendency to avoid pronouncing a short consonant at the end of
  a word, a very short vowel being often added after it. Thus the
  pronoun of the third person singular, which is _avan_, "he," in Tamil,
  is pronounced _avanu_ in Kanarese; the Sanskrit word _v[=a]k_,
  "speech," is borrowed in the form _v[=a]ku_ in Tamil; the word
  _gurram_, "horse," is commonly pronounced _gurramu_ in Telugu, and so
  on. Combinations of consonants are further avoided in many cases where
  speakers of other languages do not experience any difficulty in
  pronouncing them. This tendency is well illustrated by the changes
  undergone by some borrowed words. Thus the Sanskrit word
  _br[=a]hmana_, "a Brahmin," becomes _bar[=a]mana_ in Kanarese and
  _pir[=a]mana_ in Tamil; the Sanskrit _Dramida_, "Dravidian," is
  borrowed by Tamil under the form _Tir[=a]mida_. _Dramida_, which also
  occurs as _Dravida_, is in its turn developed from an older _Damila_,
  which is identical with the word _Tamir_, Tamil.

  The forms _pir[=a]mana_ and _Tir[=a]mida_ in Tamil illustrate another
  feature of Dravidian enunciation. There is a tendency in all of them,
  and in Tamil and Malay[=a]lam it has become a law, against any word
  being permitted to begin with a stopped voiced consonant (g, j, [d.],
  d, b), the corresponding voiceless sounds (k, c, t, [t.], p,
  respectively) being substituted. In the middle of a word or compound,
  on the other hand, every consonant must be voiced. Thus the Sanskrit
  word _danta_, "tooth," has been borrowed by Tamil in the form
  _tandam_, and the Telugu _anna_, "elder brother," _tammulu_, "younger
  brother," become when compounded _annadammulu_, "elder and younger
  brothers."

  There is no strongly marked accent on any one syllable, though there
  is a slight stress upon the first one. In some dialects this
  equilibrium between the different parts of a word is accompanied by a
  tendency to approach to each other the sound of vowels in consecutive
  syllables. This tendency, which has been called the "law of harmonic
  sequence," is most apparent in Telugu, where the short _u_ of certain
  suffixes is replaced by _i_ when the preceding syllable contains one
  of the vowels _i_ (short and long) and _ei_. Compare the dative suffix
  _ku_, _ki_, in _gurramu-ku_, "to a horse"; but _tammuni-ki_, "to a
  younger brother." This tendency does not, however, play a prominent
  rôle in the Dravidian languages.

  Words are formed from roots and bases by means of suffixed formative
  additions. The root itself generally remains unchanged throughout.
  Thus from the Tamil base _per_, "great," we can form adjectives such
  as _per-iya_ and _per-um_, "great"; verbs such as _per-u-gu_, "to
  become increased"; _per-u-kku_, "to cause to increase," and so on.

  Many bases can be used at will as nouns, as adjectives, and as verbs.
  Thus the Tamil _kadu_ can mean "sharpness," "sharp," and "to be
  sharp." Other bases are of course more restricted in their respective
  spheres.

  The inflection of words is effected by agglutination, i.e. various
  additions are suffixed to the base in order to form what we would call
  cases and tenses. Such additions have probably once been separate
  words. Most of them are, however, now only used as suffixes. Thus from
  the Tamil base _k[=o]n_, "king," we can form an accusative
  _k[=o]n-ei_, a verb _k[=o]n-en_, "I am king," and so on.

  Dravidian nouns are divided into two classes, which Tamil grammarians
  called high-caste and casteless respectively. The former includes
  those nouns which denote beings endowed with reason, the latter all
  others. Gender is only distinguished in the former class, while all
  casteless nouns are neuter. The gender of animals (which are
  irrational) must accordingly be distinguished by using different words
  for the male and the female, or else by adding words meaning male,
  female, respectively, to the name of the animal--processes which do
  not, strictly speaking, fall under the head of grammar.

  There are two numbers, the singular and the plural. The latter is
  formed by adding suffixes. It, however, often remains unmarked in the
  case of casteless nouns.

  Cases are formed by adding postpositions and suffixes, usually to a
  modified form of the noun which is commonly called the oblique base.
  Thus we have the Tamil _maram_, "tree"; _maratt-[=a]l_, "from a tree";
  _maratt-u-kku_, "to a tree"; _v[=i]du_, "a house"; _v[=i]t[t.]-[=a]l_,
  "from a house." The case terminations are the same in the singular and
  in the plural. The genitive, which precedes the governing noun, is
  often identical with the oblique base, or else it is formed by adding
  suffixes.

  The numeral system is decimal and higher numbers are counted in tens;
  thus Tamil _pattu_, "ten"; _iru-badu_, "two tens," "twenty."

  The personal pronoun of the first person in most dialects has a double
  form in the plural, one including and the other excluding the person
  addressed. Thus, Tamil _n[=a]m_, "we," i.e. I and you; _n[=a]ngal_,
  "we," i.e. I and they.

  There is no relative pronoun. Relative clauses are effected by using
  relative participles. Thus in Telugu the sentence "the book which you
  gave to me" must be translated _m[=i]ru n[=a]ku iccina pus-takamu_,
  i.e. "you me-to given book." There are several such participles in
  use. Thus from the Telugu verb _kot[t.]a_, "to strike," are formed
  _kot[t.]-ut-unna_, "that strikes," _kot[t.]-i-na_, "that struck,"
  _kot[t.][=e]_, "that would strike," "that usually strikes." By adding
  pronouns, or the terminations of pronouns, to such forms, nouns are
  derived which denote the person who performs the action. Thus from
  Telugu _kot[t.][=e]_ and _v[=a]du_, "he," is formed
  _kot[t.][=e]-v[=a]du_, "one who usually strikes." Such forms are used
  as ordinary verbs, and the usual verbal forms of Dravidian languages
  can broadly be described as such nouns of agency. Thus, the Telugu,
  _kot[t.]in[=a]du_, "he struck," can be translated literally "a striker
  in the past."

  Verbal tenses distinguish the person and number of the subject by
  adding abbreviated forms of the personal pronouns. Thus in Kanarese we
  have _m[=a]did-enu_, "I did"; _m[=a]did-i_, "thou didst";
  _m[=a]did-evu_, "we did"; _m[=a]did-aru_, "they did."

  One of the most characteristic features of the Dravidian verb is the
  existence of a separate negative conjugation. It usually has only one
  tense and is formed by adding the personal terminations to a negative
  base. Thus, Kanarese _m[=a]d-enu_, "I did not"; _m[=a]d-evu_, "we did
  not"; _m[=a]d-aru_, "they did not."

  The vocabulary has adopted numerous Aryan loan-words. This was a
  necessary consequence of the early connexion with the superior Aryan
  civilization.

  The oldest Dravidian literature is largely indebted to the Aryans
  though it goes back to a very early date. Tamil, Malay[=a]lam,
  Kanarese and Telugu are the principal literary languages. The language
  of literature in all of them differs considerably from the colloquial.
  The oldest known specimen of a Dravidian language occurs in a Greek
  play which is preserved in a papyrus of the 2nd century A.D. The exact
  period to which the indigenous literature can be traced back, on the
  other hand, has not been fixed with certainty.

  BIBLIOGRAPHY.--Bishop R. Caldwell, _A Comparative Grammar of the
  Dravidian or South-Indian Family of Languages_ (London, 1856; 2nd
  edition, 1875); Dr Friedrich Müller, _Reise der österreichischen
  Fregatte Novara um die Erde in den Jahren 1857, 1858, 1859, unter den
  Befehlen des Commodore B. von Wüllerstorff-Urbair: Linguistischer
  Theil._ (Wien, 1867, pp. 73 and ff.); Dr Friedrich Müller, _Grundriss
  der Sprachwissenschaft_, vol. iii. (Wien, 1884), pp. 106 and ff.; G.
  A. Grierson, _Linguistic Survey of India_, vol. iv. "Munda and
  Dravidian Languages" (Calcutta, 1906), pp. 277 and ff. by Sten Konow.
       (S. K.)


FOOTNOTE:

  [1] In Dravidian words a line above a vowel shows that it is long.
    The dotted consonants t, d, and n are pronounced by striking the tip
    of the tongue against the centre of the hard palate. The dotted l is
    distinguished from l in a similar way. Its sound, however, differs in
    the different districts. A Greek [chi] marks the sound of _ch_ in
    "loch"; _s_ is the English _sh_; _c_ the _ch_ in "church"; and _ri_
    is an _r_ which is used as a vowel. In the list of Dravidian
    languages the names are spelt fully, with all the necessary
    diacritical marks. In the rest of the article dots under consonants
    have been omitted in these words.



DRAWBACK, in commerce, the paying back of a duty previously paid upon
the exportation of excisable articles or upon the re-exportation of
foreign goods. The object of a drawback is to enable commodities which
are subject to taxation to be exported and sold in a foreign country on
the same terms as goods from countries where they are untaxed. It
differs from a bounty in that the latter enables commodities to be sold
abroad at less than their cost price; it may occur, however, under
certain conditions that the giving of a drawback has an effect
equivalent to that of a bounty, as in the case of the so-called sugar
bounties in Germany (see SUGAR). The earlier tariffs contained elaborate
tables of the drawbacks allowed on the exportation or re-exportation of
commodities, but so far as the United Kingdom is concerned the system of
"bonded warehouses" practically abolished drawbacks, as commodities can
be warehoused (placed "in bond") until required for subsequent
exportation.



DRAWING, in art. Although the verb "to draw" has various meanings, the
substantive _drawing_ is confined by usage to its artistic sense,
delineation or design. The word "draw," from a root common to the
Teutonic languages (Goth, _dragan_, O.H.G. _drahan_, Mod. Ger. _tragen_,
which all have the sense of "carry," O. Norse _draga_, A.S. _drazan_,
_drazen_, "draw," cf. Lat. _trahere_), means to pull or "drag" (a word
of the same origin) as distinct from the action of pushing. It is thus
used of traction generally, whether by men, animals or machines. The
same idea is preserved in "drawing" as applied to the fine arts. We do
not usually say, or think, that a sculptor is drawing when he is using
his chisel, although he may be expressing or defining forms, nor that an
engraver is drawing when he is pushing the burin with the palm of the
hand, although the result may be the rendering of a design. But we do
say that an artist is drawing when he uses the lead pencil, and here we
have a motion bearing some resemblance to that of traction generally.
The action of the artist in drawing the pencil point with his fingers
along the paper is analogous, e.g., to that of a horse or man drawing a
pole over soft ground and leaving a mark behind. The same analogy may be
observed between two of the senses in which the French verb _tirer_ is
frequently employed. This word, the origin of which is quite uncertain,
was formerly used by good writers in the two senses of the verb to draw.
Thus Lafontaine says, "Six forts chevaux _tiraient_ un coche"; and
Caillières wrote, "Il n'y a pas longtemps que je me suis fait _tirer_
par Rigaud," meaning that Rigaud had drawn or painted his portrait. At
the present day the verb _tirer_ has fallen into disuse amongst
cultivated Frenchmen with regard to drawing and painting, but it is
still universally used for all kinds of design and even for photography
by the common people. The cultivated use it still for printing, as for
example "cette gravure sera tirée à cent exemplaires," in the sense of
pulling. A verb much more nearly related to the English verb _to draw_
is the French _traire_ (Lat. _trahere_), which has _trait_ for its past
participle. _Traire_ is now used exclusively for milking cows and other
animals, and though the analogy between this and artistic drawing is not
obvious at first, nevertheless there is a certain analogy of motion,
since the hand passing down the teat draws the milk downwards. The word
_trait_ is much more familiar in connexion with art as "les traits du
visage," the natural markings of the face, and it is very often used in
a figurative sense, as we say "traits of character." It is familiar in
the English _portrait_, derived from _protrahere_. The ancient Romans
used words which expressed more clearly the conception that drawing was
done in line (_delineare_) or in shade (_adumbrare_), though there are
reasons for believing that the words were often indiscriminately
applied. Although the modern Italians have both _traire_ and _trarre_,
they use _delineare_ still in the sense of artistic drawing, and also
_adombrare_. The Greek verb [Greek: graphein] appears in English in
"graphic" and in many compounds, such as photograph, &c. It is worth
observing that the Greeks seem to have considered drawing and writing
(q.v.) as essentially the same process, since they used the same word
for both. This points to the early identity of the two arts when drawing
was a kind of writing, and when such writing as men had learned to
practise was essentially what we should call drawing, though of a rude
and simple kind. Even in the present day picture writing is not
unfrequently resorted to by travellers as a means of making themselves
intelligible. There is also a kind of art which is writing in the modern
sense and drawing at the same time, such as the work of the medieval
illuminators in their manuscripts.     (X.)

_The Art of Drawing._--Rather than attempt here a historical survey of
the various so-called "styles" of drawing, or write a personal
appreciation of them, it seems of greater use to give a logical account
of drawing as an art, applicable to all times and countries. Reference
to the teaching of drawing will be occasionally given rather to
illustrate the argument than with a view to its being of practical use.

At the outset a distinction must be made between drawing as a means of
symbolic or literary expression and drawing as the direct and only means
of expressing the beauty of form. If Pharaoh wants to have it known that
a hundred ducks were consumed at one meal in his court, he employs a
draughtsman to register the fact on a frieze by picturing a row of cooks
occupied in preparing the hundred ducks. The artist in this case does
not represent the scene as he must have known it in the kitchen, with
all its variety of movement and composition (as an early Greek vase
painter conceived the interior of a vase factory), but all he does and
is required to do is to give the sufficient number of figures and ducks.
The more uniform the figures the greater will be the effect of number.
Drawing has been employed here to tell a story, and it succeeds in so
far as it tells the spectator plainly what could be told, perhaps less
conveniently, in words. It matters not whether the figures and objects
be feelingly rendered and harmoniously composed. So, to-day, a child, or
any one who has a simple trick of symbolizing figures and objects in
nature, can describe any event or moral by this process, provided the
plot be not too elaborate to be expressed by a scene, or series of
scenes, enacted by dumb symbolic figures. It is plain that the amusing
pictures in _Punch_ or _Fliegende Blätter_ would be none the more
amusing if they were done by the hand of Michelangelo, nor would the
mystic designs of Blake be more full of meaning if drawn by Rembrandt,
for in neither case do these works depend upon any subtle rendering of
the forms of nature for their success, but upon the dramatic or
intellectual imagination of the man who conceived them. When the witty
or ethical man is at the same time a master draughtsman his work has two
values, the "literary" content and the beauty of his drawing of natural
objects. But it must be borne in mind that these values are
fundamentally distinct; so much so that the spectator who has no
appreciation of the forms of nature enjoys the story told and remains
blind to the qualities of draughtsmanship, whilst the lover of nature's
forms may or may not trouble to unravel the literary plot but finds
perfect satisfaction in the drawing. By far the greater part of
illustration, and of artistic production generally, must be classed as
symbolic art. Magazine stories to-day are sometimes illustrated even by
photography, for the hand of the artist is not required. Symbolic art
describes indirectly and in a necessarily limited scope what literature
can do directly and with unlimited powers. The only content of symbolic
drawing is its literary meaning; as drawing it may be quite worthless.

Pure drawing, however, whether it represent a dramatic event or a
knee-joint, has a content that cannot be expressed by words, and is not
necessarily directed towards literary expression. Just as a fragment of
good sculpture pleases the connoisseur without any reference either to
the whole original or to its spiritual significance, fine drawing can
appeal to the lover of nature independently of indirect considerations.

What is the content of pure drawing? It is held by some that drawing or
monochrome can suggest colour, and many people, some consciously, others
unconsciously, attempt to represent in drawings the colours of figures
and landscape. It seems a strange aberration to argue that by different
intensities of the one colour various other colours can be suggested: it
would not be more unreasonable to maintain that E flat and F could be
suggested by striking the note G with varying strength. Now the
draughtsman employs various intensities of his monochrome as light and
shade by which to give roundness to his forms. But if on the same
drawing he uses the same means in his attempt to express colour, a
conflict would be at once set up between that which makes for form and
that which would make for colour, and the result would generally be a
confusion. Again, let one attempt to give red hair to a monochrome
drawing of a man, and if the red be plain and unmistakable to all who
are not the artist's accomplices, then the artist has succeeded;
otherwise it is bootless to treat of colour and colour values (which of
course must depend upon the existence of colour) in monochrome. Apart
from theory, if we examine the drawings, etchings and monochromes of
great artists, where do we find them attempting to give colour or colour
values? The hundreds of costume studies by Rembrandt might have been
done from white plaster models, and there are only a few exceptions
where a man has, for instance, a black hat or cloak. But in these few
instances the "colour" tone is applied with such discretion that the
true representation of the form is scarcely, perhaps only theoretically,
impaired: they certainly have gained nothing in colour value because no
specific colour is manifest in them. In Rembrandt's, Claude's or
Turner's drawings of landscapes the formation of the country, the
architecture, &c., is expressed by line, light and shade, and enhanced
by shadows cast from clouds and trees. If, in the drawings of masters,
we should find objects darker or lighter than their position in the
light would warrant, they have value (perhaps not quite a legitimate
one) for balancing the composition as a flat pattern. They were never
intended to suggest colour, nor do they. Yet, in spite of the failure to
succeed, and contrary to logical argument and the practice of great
draughtsmen, the student of most of the schools of Europe and America
still persists in doing the hair dark, and, by attempting to give colour
values to the clothes, breaks up the consistency of the whole. For the
same reason that the sculptor uses uniformly coloured material in order
that the natural light and shade may have full opportunity of making his
forms manifest to the spectator, the draughtsman confines himself to
giving light and shade only. If a monochrome has "colour tones," the
effect is similar to that produced by a draped statue made out of
variously coloured marbles--an inartistic jumble.

As the immediate purpose and content of drawing there remains the
representation of form only. Drawing is, therefore, essentially the same
activity as sculpture, and has no additional scope. "Pupils," says
Donatello, "I give you the whole art of sculpture when I tell you to
draw" (cited by Holroyd, _Michel Angelo_, p. 2 95), and the only
practical teaching of drawing might be summed up by the inversion of the
above.

Now if everything in nature--men, mountains or clouds--were as flat
targets, i.e. two-dimensional, drawing could be legitimately reduced to
a mechanical process,--to trace their contours upon a glass screen or
even photograph them would be all that would be required. Indeed,
provided the size of the drawing, the local colour and the texture be
the same as those of the original, a complete illusion would be the
result, in fact the proper end of one's labours. But the presence of the
third dimension in all objects causes light and shade, which in their
turn bring about radical changes of the local colour, even in uniformly
coloured objects. Now since drawing cannot suggest colour, local or
atmospherical, any attempt to effect an illusion by a monochrome is at
once defeated. If the end of drawing were to approach imitation or
illusion as nearly as possible, how is it that a mere "sketch" by a
master draughtsman can be for itself as valuable as his highly finished
drawing? And surely a masterly outline drawing of a figure or landscape
does not pretend to be an illusion. If then the draughtsman does not,
and cannot hope to imitate nature, he is compelled to state only his
ideas of it, ideas of three-dimensional form. For this reason only
drawing must be treated as an art, and not as a mechanical act of
getting an illusion.

[Illustration: (From a Greek vase in the British Museum (E. 46).

FIG. 1.]

[Illustration: (From _Bulletino arch. Napol_. (1843, tom. 1, tav. 7).

FIG. 2.]

[Illustration: (From a drawing by Michelangelo (1854, 5, 13, i.), Print
Room, British Museum).

FIG. 3.]

It is interesting to trace in the history of an indigenous art the
development of drawing that shall ultimately express ideas of
three-dimensional form. Prof. Emanuel Loewy, in his _Rendering of Nature
in Early Greek Art_, demonstrates how the early Greek sculpture (and
that of all primitive peoples, children and ungifted artists) shows an
aversion from depth. Their reliefs are of the flattest description,
almost raised contours, and their figures in the round have at first
only one aspect, or flat façade, so to speak, then three and four
aspects, and finally at the date of Lysippus the figures are fully
rounded out, and the members project at liberty in all directions. Then
for the first time Greek sculpture showed a complete conception of the
body's corporeity (_Körperlichkeit_). The primitive artist, however well
he may be _intellectually_ aware of the three dimensions of an object,
does not fully apprehend its true aspect as offered to the eye from one
point of view. Following this conclusion, it is easy to see also in the
drawing of the early Greeks, children and so on, the same lack of idea
of the third dimension. The figures on the vases of the "finest period"
(about 475 B.C.), despite occasional foreshortenings, have, when
considered as representations of solid forms, a papery appearance. They
have not half the draughtsmanship shown by the latter period of the vase
industry, where the figures, though careless, stereotyped and
ill-composed, come forwards (to use Prof. Loewy's description of later
sculpture), go backwards, twist and turn in space in a manner which
cannot be excelled. The reproductions in figs. 1, 2, 3 will illustrate
the development. The primitive draughtsman is at first bound by the
silhouette. Later, he desires to fill out the interior, but this cannot
be done without in great part modifying his contour lines, because they
are generally merely indications of the disappearing and reappearing
inner modelling, i.e. of the figure's third dimension. Finally, the
draughtsman in full possession of a feeling for the corporeity of the
object will determine his contour entirely from within, a procedure
which is the exact opposite to that of his first beginnings. He
conceives the length, breadth and depth of an object and all its parts
as solid wholes. To him a body in violent foreshortening is as easy as a
simple profile, and, though it may not be as attractive, it is perhaps
more interesting because its contours are more bound up with, and
dependent upon, the inner modelling; in other words, it has more depth.
The draughtsman's idea of a form in nature is not a "flat idea," but one
containing three dimensions. This idea he seeks to express either by
line alone or by light and shade. If an artist has not a
three-dimensional "grasp" of forms, and, like a child, confines himself
to the primitive tracing of the silhouette, his compositions may be of
excellent flat pattern, and equal to any of the designs of ancient
carpets or early Greek vases; but in the light of the above argument,
and when compared with the productions of mature draughtsmen of all ages
and countries, they cannot be said to be complete drawings, any more
than the early unifacial statues of the Greeks can be called true
plastic, simply because in neither case has the artist yet reached the
highest possible development of corporeous conception, by which truly to
interpret the solid objects of nature as we know them, and as master
draughtsmen see them.

An attempt should be made to explain the psycho-physiological process
that must take place in the mind of the real draughtsman. When we look
at an object in nature we know its length and breadth by the flat image
on the retina; we see also the light and shade, which at once gives us a
correct idea of the object's depth or relief. But we do not, nor could
we, have this idea from the flat image on the retina alone, i.e. from
the mere perception of the light and shade: our knowledge of its depth
is the result of experience, i.e. of our having from infancy remarked a
certain dispensation of light and shade on, and peculiar to, every form
we have touched or traversed, and so, by association and inference,
being early enabled to have ideas of the depth of things by their
various arrangements of lights and darks without having to touch or
traverse them. Nevertheless the act (generally, but by no means always,
an unconscious one) of visually touching a form must necessarily take
place before we can apprehend the third dimension of a form. It is,
then, by the combination of the ideas derived from pure vision and the
ideas derived from touch that we know the length, breadth and depth of a
solid form. We have shown that the art of drawing is not an imitation,
but an expression of the artist's ideas of form; therefore all drawing
of forms that merely reproduces the image on the retina, and leaves
unconsulted the ideas of touch, is incomplete and primitive, because it
does not express a conception of form which is the result of an
association of the two senses; in other words, it does not contain an
idea of the object's relief or solidity. And all teaching of drawing
that does not impress upon the student the necessity of combining the
sense of vision with that of touch is erroneous, for it is thereby
limiting him to a mechanical task, viz. the tracing of the flat image on
the retina, which could be equally well done by mechanical means, or by
photography alone.

[Illustration: FIG. 4.]

In most of the schools of Europe and America it is true that great
stress is laid upon the importance of giving life-like relief to
drawings, but the method by which the students are allowed to get the
relief is by employing the sense of vision only. Tracing the silhouette
of the figure as minutely as possible, they then fill it out with
inner-modelling, which also is done by vision alone, for the lights and
darks of the original are copied down as so many flat patterns fitted
together and gradated like a child's puzzle, and are not used merely as
indication by which to "feel" the depth of the object. Such a procedure
is as if in drawing a brick of which three sides were visible, one were
first to draw the entire contour (fig. 4, a), the subtle perspective of
which he might get correct with some mechanical apparatus or by infinite
mechanical pains, and then fill up the interior with its "shading" (fig.
4, b). The method would be plainly laborious, unintelligent and
unedifying, and in drawing the most complicated foreshortened forms of
the human body it would seem still more illogical. That this principle
of instruction does not help the student to grasp the three-dimensional
character properly can be proved by the twenty-minute studies of the
average student who in his fourth year has won a gold medal for an
astounding piece of life-like stippling. They are still unintelligent
contour tracings, as if of cardboard figures, with a few irrelevant
patches of dark here and there within the silhouette.

But high modelling that would make for illusion of reality is not the
first aim of draughtsmanship, nor have the best draughtsmen employed it
save by exception. Michelangelo, Ingres, Holbein and Rembrandt have
shown us that it is possible to give sufficient relief with a mere
outline drawing. Again, the desire for salience often blunts the
student's sense of the real character of the forms he is rounding out.
So his elaborately modelled portrait may look very "life-like," but when
compared with the original it will generally be seen that the whole and
each of the individual forms of the drawing lack the peculiar character
of those of the original. It is by carefully watching for the character
of each fresh variety in figure and feature that great draughtsmen have
excelled, and not by "life-like" relief, or even a sophisticated
exposition of anatomical details at the expense of character. Can it be
seriously maintained that a masterly sudden grasp of true formal
character can be developed in a student by a system in which he
patiently spends many days and weeks in stippling into plastic
appearance one drawing which has originally been "laid in" by a
mechanical process?

It has been shown that to attempt to make an illusion of nature is
neither within the power of monochrome nor has been the chief aim of
draughtsmen, but that the art of drawing consists in giving a plain
statement of one's ideas, be they slight or studied, of the solid forms
of nature. But the question may still be asked: Why is it that a
rigorously accurate and finished drawing by a student or artist with
_no_ such ideas or conception is not good drawing, containing as it must
do all that can be seen in the original, missing only its complete
illusion? Why, in a word, is not a photograph a work of art?

The common explanation of the above important question is that the
artist "selects and eliminates from the forms of nature." But surely
this is the principle of the caricaturist and virtuoso? A beautiful
drawing, however slight, is but the precipitate of the whole in the
artist's mind. And a highly finished drawing by a master does not show
even any apparent selection or elimination. The adoption of the
principle of selection to differentiate art from mechanical reproduction
is fundamentally vicious, and could be shown to be wholly inapplicable
to the so-called formative arts. Nor could the theory of "selection" be
used as a principle of teaching, for if to the first question the pupil
would make, "What am I to select?" it were answered, "Only the important
things," then the next question, "What are the important things?" could
be answered only by saying, "That alone the real artist knows, but
cannot teach." Certainly there are important things that can be taught
the student in the initial stage of "laying-in" a figure, but _when_ to
begin selecting or eliminating no teacher could tell him, simply because
he must be aware that a true draughtsman can afford to eliminate nothing
when the truth of the whole is at stake. The artist's conception and its
expression may be slight or elaborate, but in neither case can selection
or elimination take place, for a true conception must be founded upon
the character of the whole, which is determined by the entire complex of
all the parts.

To explain the essential difference between art and mechanical drawing
or mechanical reproduction, a more applicable theory must be found.
Compare the art of telling a story. If, to describe an incident in the
street you had the entire affair reenacted on the same spot, you would
have but made a mechanical reproduction of it, leaving the spectator to
simplify the affair, and construct his _own_ conception of it. You have
not given _your_ ideas of the event, and so you have not made a work of
art. So, if a man draws an object detail for detail by any mechanical
process, or traces over its photograph, he has but reduplicated the
real aspect of the object, and has failed to give the spectator a simple
and intelligible idea of it. Starting out with the generous notion of
giving all, that there may be "something for everyone," he has given
nothing. He did not originally form an intelligible and simplified idea
of the figure, so how can his drawing be expected to give one to others?

But how can forms be made _more_ simple and intelligible than by
reproducing their aspect with absolute accuracy? Our combined sense of
vision and touch comprehends very easily certain elementary solid forms,
the sphere, the cube, the pyramid and the cylinder. No forms but these,
and their modifications, can be apprehended by the mind in one and the
same act of vision. Every complex form, even so simple as that of a
kidney, for instance, must be first broken up into its component parts
before it can be fully apprehended or remembered. Analogously with the
above, Prof. Wundt has shown how the mind can apprehend _as separate
units_ any number, of marbles for instance, up to five, after which
every number must be split up into lots of twos, threes, fours and
fives, or twenties, thirties and so on, before it can realize the full
content of that number in one and the same mental picture. So the only
way to receive an intelligible idea of a complex form, such as a human
figure, is first to discover in the figure itself, and then in all its
parts, only modifications of the above elementary solid forms, and the
drawing of a conception thus informed must needs be a very clear and
intelligible one. The more the artist is capable and practised, the more
clearly will he conceive and distinguish in nature each subtle
modification of these elementary forms, their direction, their relation
to, and their dependence upon one another. The only difference between a
good draughtsman and a bad one is the degree of subtlety of his
apprehension. Unless the draughtsman has seen some such clear forms in
his original, his labour to produce a work of art will be grievous and
fruitless. All good drawing is stamped with this kind of structural
insight. The more the artist adheres to nature, and the more finished
his drawing, the more will the lines and forms that he makes be, so to
speak, _in excess_ of those of nature, or dull imitation or photography.
It is not to be supposed that able draughtsmen work, or need ever have
worked, consciously in this manner. It is, indeed, the virtue peculiar
to the artist, as interpreter of form, that he instinctively comprehends
the real elemental character of complex forms, whilst the majority of
people (on the showing of their own drawings) entertain but confused or
_no_ ideas of them. It is because a good drawing reduces the chaos of
ideas supplied by the raw material of nature, to one intelligible manner
of seeing it, that all lovers of nature welcome it with joy. It is this
process of discovery and interpretation that marks the essential
difference between art and mechanical drawing or reproduction. Art gives
intelligible ideas of the forms of nature, mechanism attempts to
reduplicate their aspects.

There are some who hold that drawing is not exclusively a matter of
interpreting form, but that great artists have their own "personalities"
which they infuse into their work. They will ask, How is it otherwise to
be explained that two equally good draughtsmen will invariably make
different drawings of the same figure? Is it not for the same reason
that one man will divide up a row of eight marbles into groups of four,
and another into five and three? The subjectivity of experience governs
the different conceptions that good draughtsmen will form of the same
object. Accordingly as a draughtsman feels form so will he draw it, and
it is only because our sense apparatuses are more or less similarly
constituted that we can understand and appreciate one another's
conceptions.

But if the master draughtsman gives the true character of his model's
form, why is it that his drawings are not pleasing to all alike? Whence
the doubts and criticism that have been called forth by all original
artists? If we first examine the attitude of the average man, artist or
layman, towards nature, we can better explain his attitude towards works
of art. The average man or artist has not a highly developed
appreciation of form _per se_, whether it be the form of natural or
manufactured objects. And it would seem that he is still less a
disinterested spectator of the forms and features of his fellow beings
and animals, their movements, their colour, their value in a room or
landscape. He has sentimental, moral or intellectual preferences. In
other words, he likes or dislikes only those faces or figures which
hundreds of personal associations have taught him to like or dislike.
The riding man's admiration for the look of a particular horse is based
upon the fact that it looks like "a horse to go," and hence it is what
he calls beautiful, while the artist, in the capacity of artist and not
of sportsman, is not particular in his choice of horse-flesh, but finds
each animal equally interesting for itself alone. Consequently in art
any face, figure or object that does not come into the category of what
the average man cares for is condemned by him even as it would be in
real life, since he is no lover of form for form's sake, but provided
the subject or moral be pleasing the quality of the draughtsmanship is
of small account. The picture of a dwarf, or of an anatomy lesson, or of
a group of ordinary bourgeois folk would not really please him, even
though he were told that the work was by Velazquez, Rembrandt or Manet.
We have only to listen to the common criticism of works of art to know
that it is founded upon personal predilection only. We do not hear such
personal criticism upon drawings of landscape, not because artists do
them better, but because natural landscape has no interest for any one
other than for its form, or, at least, people do not hold such definite
personal likes or dislikes with regard to its various manifestations.
But the artist, though his own personal predilections may, and generally
do, lead him to work within that agreeable _milieu_, has, in the
capacity of artist, no subjective prejudices; indeed, if he had them, he
could not represent them by line, light and shade. He seeks always new
varieties of form; hence his subjects, and his manner of posing them,
are often unpleasing to the man who is busy with other affairs, and has
no great experience of nature's forms. Let a good draughtsman make a
successful likeness of the mother of some average man, and the latter
will be delighted, but it by no means follows that he will delight in a
drawing of the wife of the artist, though done by the same hand and with
equal skill.

If drawing is the art of giving one's ideas of the forms of nature, then
all criticism of drawing must be based upon the question, "How far does
such and such a work show an intimate knowledge of or intelligent
visualization of the forms we know in nature?" and no other principle of
judgment can be applicable to all drawing alike. Hence only those who
have by natural endowment a clear sense of the forms of things, and who
have made more than ordinary study of them, are in a position to apply
to drawings the above criterion with any approach to infallibility. It
is a fact that there are, and always have been, a certain number of
people who agree perfectly in their appreciation of the works of certain
draughtsmen of different times and countries, and who can state reasons
for their appreciation in definite and almost identical terms, for it is
based upon knowledge and experience. To such people all fine
draughtsmanship owes its public fame, and its immortality lies in their
safe keeping.

It may be argued that each has a right to his own opinion about form and
its representation, on the supposed ground that we all see form in
different ways. But there is a fallacy in this argument. If we take the
average man's drawing of any form more complex than a loaf of bread as a
fair and only testimony of his power of visualization of forms, we must
conclude that most of us see not differently, but _wrongly_, or rather
confusedly and disconnectedly, and that some can visualize form scarcely
at all. If this be true, the average person's sight and ability to judge
drawing is seriously diminished. If, then, drawing can be judged and
appreciated only by knowledge and experience of the forms of nature, no
critical formula could be made out so as to enable a child or savage or
ordinary civilized adult to estimate or enjoy it. If it be argued that
drawings are to be judged from some abstract or symbolic point of view,
independently of its subtle representation of form, then incompetent
drawing might be as beautiful as the competent, which would be absurd.
However, if the competent characterization of form were admitted as at
least the first condition of beautiful drawing, it would follow that
any abstract value it might have must be wholly dependent upon the
manner in which form is represented, and so it would be superfluous to
judge it by any standard other than the direct, definite and concrete
one of form. Abstract beauty, since no one has yet defined it agreeably
to all, is, apparently, with those who affect a feeling for it, a matter
of individual taste, and therefore cannot be questioned. But the clear
visualization of the forms of nature is based upon a special endowment
and knowledge, and can be criticized by demonstration. People may differ
in their tastes, but they may not, nor do they, differ upon questions of
real knowledge. Drawing, as the activity of giving one's ideas of form,
must therefore be judged not by taste but by knowledge.

In view of the purpose and content of drawing as here demonstrated,
there is no other principle of judgment that is relevant. Yet we often
hear drawing judged by criteria which are founded upon no such concrete
base but upon certain vague abstractions; or, again, upon a literary or
moral base which could be applicable only to symbolic art.

It is said that this or that draughtsman excels in "beauty of line." Now
in spite of the labours of many painters and theorists, it cannot
reasonably be held that one purely abstract line or curve is more
beautiful than another, for the simple reason that people have no common
ground upon which to establish the nature of abstract beauty. It may be,
however, that even as certain simple forms are more easily apprehended
than complex ones, there is the same distinction with regard to lines.
If then an artist of clean vision sees in an object of reality such
clear characteristic lines, he draws them not for their abstract beauty,
but merely because by them alone can he express his idea of the form
before him. The early Greek vase painters, and all great artists of
primitive periods, being attracted only by the silhouette, became very
subtle to observe nature's outlines in their most intelligible
character, and to this capacity is due their "beauty of line," and not
to any preconceived notion of an abstract line of perfect beauty, and
nowhere will "beauty of line" be found on Greek vases, or elsewhere,
that is not informed by, and does not express, a fine conception of
nature's contours. So too in later three-dimensional drawing there is no
beauty of line which does not intelligibly express not only the
directions and angles of the main contour, but the inner modelling, i.e.
the relief of the figure. It is only a superficial judgment that would
prefer one drawing to another, even if both may be equally good, because
the line of one is neat and the other "tormented." Contour being _in
nature_ an ideal line between one form and another, it is illogical to
treat it or criticize it in a _drawing_ as an actual and specific thing,
apart from the forms that make it and are made by it. If an artist drew
a dragon with deliberate disregard for animal construction, his drawing
would be silly, and only by a profound knowledge of the forms of nature
could it be made to have beautiful lines. Truth to nature is always
originality, and it is the only originality worth the name.

Again, some people judge one drawing as better than another in that it
shows more "individuality" or "temperament." Now a man's individuality
is, presumably, a vague feeling in our minds produced by the net result
of the ways in which he sees, hears, loves, thinks and so on, so that we
could not tell a man's individuality from any single one of his
manifestations. With his entire work as an artist before us, i.e. his
manner of seeing, we could do no more than infer, with the help of
outside data, from the subjects he chooses, and the neatness or boldness
of his line, something about his general character, and that with small
degree of certainty. To regard a man's works of art, or indeed any of
his manifestations, from this point of view, is, after all, nothing but
a kind of inquisitive cheiromancy. Those who pretend to like the
drawings of Watteau or Michelangelo "because they show more
individuality" than the incompetent work of a beginner or poor artist
cannot be skilled in their own business, because the lady who tells your
character by your handwriting finds as much individuality in bad writing
as in good,--sometimes even more. It may be entertaining to some to
guess at the artist's character from his works by this process of
inference and comparison, but it is unreasonable to imagine that
"individuality," as such, can be made a serious criterion of aesthetic
judgment. The only individuality a draughtsman can show directly by his
drawing is his individual way of conceiving the forms of nature, and
even this is immaterial provided the conception and drawing be good.

A word or two are necessary upon "style," which unfortunate word has
made much mystery in criticism. The great draughtsmen of every time and
country are known by their own words, as well as their works, to have
been infinitely respectful to the form of every detail in nature. Their
drawings always recall to our minds reality as we ourselves have seen it
(provided we have studied from nature and not from pictures). The
drawing of a hand, for instance, by Hokusai, Ingres or Dürer, revives in
us our own impressions of the forms and aspects of real hands. In short
there is manifest in all good drawings, whatever their difference of
medium or superficial appearance, an entire dependence upon the forms of
nature. Hence we cannot imagine that they were conceived and executed
with the conscious effort to obtain some abstract style independent of
the material treated. The style they plainly have can spring from this
common quality, their truthful and well understood representation of
forms. Style, then, is the expression of a clear understanding of the
material from which the artist works. Unless a drawing shows this
understanding it would be as impossible as it would be gratuitous to
argue that it could have style. But it would seem that some people mean
by style nothing more than the mere superficial appearance of the work.
They would have a draughtsman draw "in the style of Holbein," but not
"in the style" of Rembrandt. This kind of preference, as remarked above,
is superficial, for it overlooks the main issue and purpose of drawing,
viz. the representation, by any means whatever, of the artist's ideas of
form. It is as though one should prefer a letter from Holbein to one
from Rembrandt, though both were equally expressive, simply because
Holbein's handwriting was prettier than Rembrandt's. Each draughtsman
manifests a kind of handwriting peculiar to himself even in his most
faithful rendering of form; and by this we can immediately recognize the
artist; many, for instance Hogarth and some Japanese, seem to have let
their quirks, full stops and so on, get the upper hand at the expense of
serious, sensitive draughtsmanship.

It is fair to suppose that all abstract principles of aesthetic
judgment, such as beauty of line, personality, style, nobility of
thought, romanticism, are merely pretexts set up by people who would
still affect to admire the drawings of recognized masters when they have
neither the knowledge of, nor the care for, the forms of nature by
virtue of which alone these drawings are what they are, and by which
alone they can be immediately appreciated.     (J. R. FO.)

_Drawing-Office Work._--In modern engineering, few pieces of mechanism
are ever produced in the shops until their design has been settled in
the "drawing office," and embodied in suitable drawings showing general
and detailed views. This is a broad statement to which there are
exceptions, to be noted presently.

Drawing-office work is divisible into four principal groups. First,
there is the actual designing, by far the most difficult work, which is
confined to relatively few well-paid men. The qualifications necessary
for it are a good scientific, mathematical and engineering training, and
a specialized experience gathered in the particular class of mechanism
to which the designing relates. Second, there is the work of the rank
and file who take instructions from the chiefs, and elaborate the
smaller details and complete the drawings. Third, there are the tracers,
either youths or girls, who copy drawings on tracing paper without
necessarily understanding them. Fourth, there is a printing department
in which phototypes are produced on sensitized paper from tracings.

The character of the drawings used includes the general drawings, or
those which show a mechanism complete; and the detailed drawings, which
illustrate portions isolated from their connexions and relationships.
The first are retained in the office for reference, and copies are only
sent out to the men who have to assemble or erect and complete
mechanisms. The second are distributed to the several shops and
departments where sectional portions are being prepared, as pattern
shop, smithy, turnery, machine shop, &c. General drawings are, as a
rule, drawn to a small scale, ranging say from 1/8 in. to 1 in. to the
foot; but details are either to actual size, or to a large scale, as
from 1½ in. to the foot or 3 in. or 6 in. to the foot.

A large number of minutiae are omitted from general drawings, but in the
detailed ones that are sent into the shops nothing is apparently too
trivial for insertion. In this respect, however, there is much
difference observable in the practice of different firms, and in the
best practice of the present compared with that of former years. In the
detailed drawings issued by many firms now, every tiny element and
section is not only drawn to actual size, but also fully dimensioned,
and the material to be used is specified in every case. This practice
largely adds to the work of the drawing-office staff, but it pays.

The present tendency therefore is to throw more responsibility than of
old on the drawing-office staff, in harmony with the tendency towards
greater centralization of authority. Much of detail that was formerly
left to the decision of foremen and skilled hands is now determined by
the drawing-office staff. Heterogeneity in details is thus avoided, and
the drawings reflect accurately and fully the past as well as the
present practice of the firm. To so great an extent is this the case
that the preparation of the tools, appliances, templets, jigs and
fixtures used in the shops is often now not permitted to be undertaken
until proper drawings have been prepared for them, though formerly the
foreman's own hand sketches generally sufficed. The practice of turret
work has been contributory to this result. In many establishments now
the designing of shop tools and fixtures is done in a department of the
office specially set apart for that kind of work.

The growing specialization of the engineer's work is reflected in the
drawing office. Specialists are sought after, and receive the highest
rates of pay. A man is required to be an expert in some one branch, as
electric cranes or hydraulic machines, steel works plant, lathes, or
heavy or light machine tools. The days are past in which all-round men
were in request. In those firms which manufacture a large range of
machinery, the drawing-office staff is separated into departments, each
under its own chief, and there is seldom any transference of men from
one to another.

Although in the majority of instances designs and drawings are completed
before the manufacture is undertaken, exceptions to this rule occur in
connexion with the work of standardizing machines and motors, for
repetitive and interchangeable manufacture on a large scale. Here it is
so essential to secure the most minute economies in manufacture that the
first articles made are of a more or less experimental character. Only
after no further improvement seems for the time being possible are the
drawings made or completed for standard use and reference. In some
modern shops even standardized drawings are scarcely used, but their
place is taken by the templets, jigs and fixtures which are employed by
the workmen as their sole guides in machining and assembling parts. By
the employment of these aids locations and dimensions are embodied and
fixed absolutely for any number of similar parts; reference to drawings
thus becomes unnecessary, and they therefore fall into disuse.

The mechanical work of the drawing office is confined strictly to
orthographic projections and sections of objects. Perspective views are
of no value, though occasionally an object is sketched roughly in
perspective as an aid to the rapid grasp of an idea. Drawings involve
plans, elevations, and sectional views, in vertical and angular
relations.

There are a good many conventionalities adopted which have no
correspondences in fact, with the object of saving the draughtsman's
time; or else, as in the case of superposition of plans and sections, to
show in one view what would otherwise require two drawings. Among the
convenient conventionalities are the indications of toothed wheels by
their pitch lines only, of screws by parallel lines and by diagonal
shade lines; and of rivets, bolts and studs by their centres only. The
adoption of this practice never leads to error.

In the preliminary preparation of drawings in pencil no distinction is
made between full or unbroken lines, and dotted or centre lines, and the
actual outlines of the objects. These differences are made when the
inking-in is being done. Indian or Chinese ink is used, because it does
not run when colours are applied. There are conventional colours used to
indicate different materials. But colouring is not adopted so much as
formerly, because of the practice of making sun prints instead of the
more expensive tracings for the multiplication of drawings. When
tracings are coloured the colour is applied on the back instead of on
the side where the ink lines are drawn.

The economical importance of the printing department of the drawing
office cannot be overestimated. Before its introduction drawings could
only be reproduced by laborious tracing on paper or cloth, the first
being flimsy, the second especially liable to absorb grease from the
hands of the workmen. By the sun copying processes (see SUN COPYING) any
number of prints can be taken from a single tracing. But even the fickle
sun is being displaced by electricity, so that prints can be made by
night as well as day, on cloudy days as well as on bright ones. Twenty
minutes of bright sunshine is required for a print, but the electric
light produces the same result within five minutes. Prints are blue,
white or brown. The advantage of white is that they can be coloured. But
the majority are blue (white lines on blue ground). All can be had on
stout, thin or medium paper.

An innovation in drawing-office equipment is that of vertical boards,
displacing horizontal or sloping ones. They have the advantage that the
draughtsman is able to avoid a bending posture at his work. The
objection on the ground that the tee-square must be held up constantly
with one hand is overcome by supporting and balancing it with cords and
weights.     (J. G. H.)



DRAWING AND QUARTERING, part of the penalty anciently ordained in
England for treason. Until 1870 the full punishment for the crime was
that the culprit be dragged on a hurdle to the place of execution; that
he be hanged by the neck but not till he was dead; that he should be
disembowelled or drawn and his entrails burned before his eyes; that his
head be cut off and his body divided into four parts or quartered. This
brutal penalty was first inflicted in 1284 on the Welsh prince David,
and on Sir William Wallace a few years later. In Richard III.'s reign
one Collingbourne, for writing the famous couplet "The Cat, the Rat and
Lovel the Dog, Rule all England under the Hog," was executed on Tower
Hill. Stow says, "After having been hanged, he was cut down immediately
and his entrails were then extracted and thrown into the fire, and all
this was so speedily done that when the executioners pulled out his
heart he spoke and said 'Jesus, Jesus.'" Edward Marcus Despard and his
six accomplices were in 1803 hanged, drawn and quartered for conspiring
to assassinate George III. The sentence was last passed (though not
carried out) upon the Fenians Burke and O'Brien in 1867. There is a
tradition that Harrison the regicide, after being disembowelled, rose
and boxed the ears of the executioner.



DRAWING-ROOM (a shortened form of "with-drawing room," the longer form
being usual in the 16th and 17th centuries), the English name generally
employed for a room used in a dwelling-house for the reception of
company. It originated in the setting apart of such a room, as the more
private and exclusive preserve of the ladies of the household, to which
they withdrew from the dining-room. The term "drawing-room" is also used
in a special sense of the formal receptions or "courts" held by the
British sovereign or his representative, at which ladies are presented,
as distinguished from a "levee," at which men are presented.



DRAYTON, MICHAEL (1563-1631), English poet, was born at Hartshill, near
Atherstone, in Warwickshire in 1563. Even in childhood it was his great
ambition to excel in writing verses. At the age of ten he was sent as
page into some great family, and a little later he is supposed to have
studied for some time at Oxford. Sir Henry Goodere of Powlesworth became
his patron, and introduced him to the countess of Bedford, and for
several years he was esquire to Sir Walter Aston. How the early part of
his life was spent, however, we possess no means of ascertaining. It has
been surmised that he served in the army abroad. In 1590 he seems to
have come up to London, and to have settled there.

In 1591 he produced his first book, _The Harmony of the Church_, a
volume of spiritual poems, dedicated to Lady Devereux. The best piece in
this is a version of the Song of Solomon, executed with considerable
richness of expression. A singular and now incomprehensible fate befell
the book; with the exception of forty copies, seized by the archbishop
of Canterbury, the whole edition was destroyed by public order. It is
probable that he had come up to town laden with poetic writings, for he
published a vast amount within the next few years. In 1593 appeared
_Idea: The Shepherd's Garland_, a collection of nine pastorals, in which
he celebrated his own love-sorrows under the poetic name of Rowland. The
circumstances of this passion appear more distinctly in the cycle of 64
sonnets, published in 1594, under the title of _Idea's Mirror_, by which
we learn that the lady lived by the river Ankor in Warwickshire. It
appears that he failed to win his "Idea," and lived and died a bachelor.
In 1593 appeared the first of Drayton's historical poems, _The Legend of
Piers Gaveston_, and the next year saw the publication of _Matilda_, an
epical poem in rhyme royal. It was about this time, too, that he brought
out _Endimion and Phoebe_, a volume which he never republished, but
which contains some interesting autobiographical matter, and
acknowledgments of literary help from Lodge, if not from Spenser and
Daniel also. In his _Fig for Momus_, Lodge has reciprocated these
friendly courtesies. In 1596 Drayton published his long and important
poem of _Mortimerades_, which deals with the Wars of the Roses, and is a
very serious production in _ottava rima_. He afterwards enlarged and
modified this poem, and republished it in 1603 under the title of _The
Barons' Wars_. In 1596 also appeared another historical poem, _The
Legend of Robert, Duke of Normandy_, with which _Piers Gaveston_ was
reprinted. In 1597 appeared _England's Heroical Epistles_, a series of
historical studies, in imitation of those of Ovid. These last poems,
written in the heroic couplet, contain some of the finest passages in
Drayton's writings.

With the year 1597 the first half of the poet's literary life closes. He
had become famous by this rapid production of volumes, and he rested on
his oars. It would seem that he was much favoured at the court of
Elizabeth, and he hoped that it would be the same with her successor.
But when, in 1603, he addressed a poem of compliment to James I., on his
accession, it was ridiculed, and his services rudely rejected. His
bitterness of spirit found expression in a satire, _The Owl_, which he
printed in 1604, although he had no talent in this kind of composition.
Not much more entertaining was his scriptural narrative of _Moses in a
Map of his Miracles_, a sort of epic in heroics printed the same year.
In 1605 Drayton reprinted his most important works, that is to say, his
historical poems and the _Idea_, in a single volume which ran through
eight editions during his lifetime. He also collected his smaller
pieces, hitherto unedited, in a volume undated, but probably published
in 1605, under the title of _Poems Lyric and Pastoral_; these consisted
of odes, eclogues, and a fantastic satire called _The Man in the Moon_.
Some of the odes are extremely spirited. In this volume he printed for
the first time the famous _Ballad of Agincourt_.

He had adopted as early as 1598 the extraordinary resolution of
celebrating all the points of topographical or antiquarian interest in
the island of Great Britain, and on this laborious work he was engaged
for many years. At last, in 1613, the first part of this vast work was
published under the title of _Poly-Olbion_, eighteen books being
produced, to which the learned Selden supplied notes. The success of
this great work, which has since become so famous, was very small at
first, and not until 1622 did Drayton succeed in finding a publisher
willing to undertake the risk of bringing out twelve more books in a
second part. This completed the survey of England, and the poet, who had
hoped "to crown Scotland with flowers," and arrive at last at the
Orcades, never crossed the Tweed. In 1627 he published another of his
miscellaneous volumes, and this contains some of his most characteristic
and exquisite writing. It consists of the following pieces: _The Battle
of Agincourt_, an historical poem in _ottava rima_ (not to be confused
with his ballad on the same subject), and _The Miseries of Queen
Margaret_, written in the same verse and manner; _Nimphidia, the Court
of Faery_, a most joyous and graceful little epic of fairyland; _The
Quest of Cinthia_ and _The Shepherd's Sirena_, two lyrical pastorals;
and finally _The Moon Calf_, a sort of satire. Of these _Nimphidia_ is
perhaps the best thing Drayton ever wrote, except his famous ballad on
the battle of Agincourt; it is quite unique of its kind and full of rare
fantastic fancy.

The last of Drayton's voluminous publications was _The Muses' Elizium_
in 1630. He died in London on the 23rd of December 1631, was buried in
Westminster Abbey, and had a monument placed over him by the countess of
Dorset, with memorial lines attributed to Ben Jonson. Of the particulars
of Drayton's life we know almost nothing but what he himself tells us;
he enjoyed the friendship of some of the best men of the age. He
corresponded familiarly with Drummond; Ben Jonson, William Browne,
George Wither and others were among his friends. There is a tradition
that he was a friend of Shakespeare, supported by a statement of John
Ward, once vicar of Stratford-on-Avon, that "Shakespear, Drayton and Ben
Jonson had a merry meeting, and it seems, drank too hard, for Shakespear
died of a feavour there contracted." In one of his poems, an "elegy" or
epistle to Mr Henry Reynolds, he has left some valuable criticisms on
poets whom he had known. He was even engaged in the labour of the
dramatists; at least he had a share, with Munday, Chettle and Wilson, in
writing _Sir John Oldcastle_, which was printed in 1600. That he was a
restless and discontented, as well as a worthy, man may be gathered from
his own admissions.

The works of Drayton are bulky, and, in spite of the high place that he
holds in critical esteem, it cannot be pretended that he is much read.
For this his ponderous style is much to blame. The _Poly-Olbion_, the
most famous but far from the most successful of his writings, is tedious
and barren in the extreme. It was, he tells us, a "Herculean toil" to
him to compose it, and we are conscious of the effort. The metre in
which it is composed, a couplet of alexandrines, like the French
classical measure, is wholly unsuited to the English language, and
becomes excessively wearisome to the reader, who forgets the learning
and ingenuity of the poet in labouring through the harsh and overgrown
lines. His historical poems, which he was constantly rewriting and
improving, are much more interesting, and often rise to a true poetic
eloquence. His pastorals are brilliant, but overladen with colour and
sweet to insipidity. He is, with the one magnificent exception of "Since
there's no help, come let us kiss and part," which was first printed in
1619, an indifferent sonneteer. The poet with whom it is most natural to
compare him is Daniel; he is more rough and vigorous, more varied and
more daring than the latter, but Daniel surpasses him in grace, delicacy
and judgment. In their elegies and epistles, however, the two writers
frequently resemble each other. Drayton, however, approaches the very
first poets of the Elizabethan era in his charming _Nimphidia_, a poem
which inspired Herrick with his sweet fairy fancies and stands alone of
its kind in English literature; while some of his odes and lyrics are
inspired by noble feeling and virile imagination.

  In 1748 a folio edition of Drayton's complete works was published
  under the editorial supervision of William Oldys, and again in 1753
  there appeared an issue in four volumes. But these were very
  unintelligently and inaccurately prepared. A complete edition of
  Drayton's works with variant readings was projected by Richard Hooper
  in 1876, but was never carried to a conclusion; a volume of
  selections, edited by A. H. Bullen, appeared in 1883. See especially
  Oliver Elton, _Michael Drayton_ (1906). (E. G.)



DREAM (from a root _dreug_, connected with Germ. _trügen_, to deceive),
the state of consciousness during sleep; it may also be defined as a
hallucination or illusion peculiarly associated with the condition of
sleep, but not necessarily confined to that state. In sleep the
withdrawal of the mind from the external world is more complete and the
objectivity of the dream images is usually unquestioned, whereas in the
waking state the hallucination is usually recognized as such; we may,
however, be conscious that we are dreaming, and thus in a measure be
aware of the hallucinatory character of our percepts. The physiological
nature of sleep (q.v.; see also MUSCLE AND NERVE) and of dreaming is
obscure. As a rule the control over the voluntary muscles in dreams is
slight; the sleep-walker is the exception and not the rule, and the
motor activity represented in the dream is seldom realized in practice,
largely, no doubt, because we are ignorant, under these circumstances,
of the spatial relations of our bodies. Among the psychological problems
raised by dreams are the condition of attention, which is variously
regarded as altogether absent or as fixed, the extent of mental control,
and the relation of ideas and motor impulses. There is present in all
dreams a certain amount of dissociation of consciousness, or of
obstructed association, which may manifest itself in the preliminary
stage of drowsiness by such phenomena as the apparent transformation or
inversion of the words of a book. We may distinguish two types of
dreams, (a) representative or centrally initiated, (b) presentative or
due to the stimulation of the end organs of sense. In both cases, the
dream having once been initiated, we are concerned with a process of
reasoning, i.e. the combination of ideas suggested by resemblances or
other associative elements. The false reasoning of dreams is due in the
first place to the absence, to a large extent, of the memory elements on
which our ordinary reasoning depends, and, secondly, to the absence of
sensory elements.

_Objectivity of Dreams._--In waking life we distinguish ideas or mental
images from real objects by the fact that we are able under normal
circumstances to dismiss the former at will. In sleep, on the other
hand, we have, in the first place, no real objects with which to compare
the images, which therefore take on a character of reality comparable to
the hallucination of waking life; moreover, powers of visualization and
other faculties are enhanced in sleep, so that the strength of dream
images considerably exceeds those of the mental images of the ordinary
man; changes in powers of attention, volition and memory help to
increase the hallucinatory force of the dream. In the second place, the
ideas of our dreams are presented in the form of images, which we are
unable to dismiss; we therefore mistake them for realities, exactly as
the sufferer from delirium tremens in waking life is apt to regard his
phantoms as real.

_Relations of Dreaming and Sleep._--It has been maintained by Hamilton
and others (see below, Modern Views) that dreams invariably accompany
sleep, and that we always find ourselves dreaming when we are awakened.
But even if it were true that dreams were invariably experienced at the
moment of waking, this would not by any means establish the invariable
concomitance of dreams and sleep of all sorts; at most it would show
that imperfect sleep is a condition of dreaming; in the same way, dreams
before wakening, known to have taken place either from the recollection
of the dreamer or from the observation of another person, may clearly be
due to imperfect wakening, followed by a deepening of sleep. It is,
however, by no means true that awakening from sleep is invariably
accompanied by a dream; in considering the question it must be
recollected that it is complicated by the common experience of very
rapid forgetfulness of even a vivid and complicated dream, only the fact
of having dreamt remaining in the memory; it is clear that amnesia may
go so far that even the fact of dreaming may be forgotten. On the whole,
however, there appear to be no good grounds for the assertion that we
always dream when we are asleep. On the other hand, there is no proof
that partial awakening is a necessary condition of dreaming.

_Representative Dreams._--Centrally initiated dreams may be due to a
kind of automatic excitation of the cerebral regions, especially in the
case of those clearly arising from the occupations or sensations of the
day or the hours immediately preceding the dream. To the same cause we
may attribute the recalling of images apparently long since forgotten.
Some of these revivals of memory may be due to the fact that links of
association which are insufficient to restore an idea to consciousness
in the waking state may suffice to do so in sleep. Just as a good
visualizer in his waking moments may call up an object never clearly
seen and yet distinguish the parts, so in sleep, as L. F. A. Maury
(1817-1892) and others have shown, an image may be more distinct in a
dream than it was when originally presented (see also below, Memory).

_Presentative Dreams._--The dreams due to real sensations, more or less
metamorphosed, may arise (a) from the states of the internal organs, (b)
from muscular states, (c) from subjective sensations due to the
circulation, &c., or (d) from the ordinary cause of the action of
external stimuli on the organs of sense.

(a) The state of the stomach, heart, &c., has long been recognized as
important in the causation of dreams (see below, Classical Views). The
common sensation of flying seems to be due in many cases to the
disturbance of these organs setting up sensations resembling those felt
in rapidly ascending or descending, as in a swing or a lift. Indigestion
is a frequent cause of nightmare--the term given to oppressive and
horrible dreams--and bodily discomfort is sometimes translated into the
moral region, giving rise to the dream that a murder has been committed.
(b) Dreams of flying, &c., have also been attributed to the condition of
the muscles during sleep; W. Wundt remarks that the movements of the
body, such as breathing, extensions of the limbs and so on, must give
rise to dream fancies; the awkward position of the limbs may also excite
images. (c) Especially important, probably, for the dreams of the early
part of the night are the retinal conditions to which are due the
_illusions hypnagogiques_ of the preliminary drowsy stage; but probably
Ladd goes too far in maintaining that entoptic stimuli, either intra- or
extra-organic in origin, condition all dreams. _Illusions
hypnagogiques_, termed popularly "faces in the dark," of which Maury has
given a full account, are the not uncommon sensations experienced,
usually visual and seen with both open and closed eyes, in the interval
between retiring to rest and actually falling asleep; they are
comparable to the crystal-gazing visions of waking moments; though
mainly visual they may also affect other senses. Besides the eye the ear
may supply material for dreams, when the circulation of the blood
suggests rushing waters or similar ideas. (d) It is a matter of common
observation that the temperature of the surface of the body determines
in many cases the character of the dreams, the real circumstances, as
might be expected from the general character of the dream state, being
exaggerated. In the same way the pressure of bed-clothes, obstruction of
the supply of air, &c., may serve as the starting-point of dreams. The
common dream of being unclothed may perhaps be due to this cause, the
sensations associated with clothing being absent or so far modified as
to be unrecognizable. In the same way the absence of foot-gear may
account for some dreams of flying. It is possible to test the influence
of external stimuli by direct experiment; Maury made a number of trials
with the aid of an assistant.

_Rapidity of Dreams._--It has often been asserted that we dream with
extreme rapidity; but this statement is by no means borne out by
experiment. In a trial recorded by J. Clavière the beginning of the
dream was accurately fixed by the sounding of an alarm clock, which
rang, then was silent for 22 seconds, and then began to ring
continuously; the dream scene was in a theatre, and he found by actual
trial that the time required in ordinary life for the performance of the
scenes during the interval of silence was about the same as in ordinary
life. Spontaneous dreams seem to show a different state of things; it
must be remembered that (1) dreams are commonly a succession of images,
the number of which cannot be legitimately compared with the number of
extra-organic stimuli which would correspond to them in ordinary life;
the real comparison is with mental images; and (2) the rapidity of
association varies enormously in ordinary waking life. No proof,
therefore, that some dreams are slow can show that this mentation in
others is not extremely rapid. The most commonly quoted case is one of
Maury's; a bed-pole fell on his neck, and (so it is stated) he dreamt
of the French Revolution, the scenes culminating in the fall of the
guillotine on his neck; this has been held to show that (1) dreams are
extremely rapid; and (2) we construct a dream story leading up to the
external stimulus which is assumed to have originated the dream. But
Maury's dream was not recorded till many years after it had occurred;
there is nothing to show that the dream, in this as in other similar
cases, was not in progress when the bed-pole fell, which thus by mere
coincidence would have intervened at the psychological moment; Maury's
memory on waking may have been to some extent hallucinatory. But there
are records of waking states, not necessarily abnormal, in which
time-perception is disturbed and brief incidents seem interminably long;
on the other hand, it appears from the experiences of persons recovered
from drowning that there is great rapidity of ideation before the
extinction of consciousness; the same rapidity of thought has been
observed in a fall from a bicycle.

_Reason in Dreams._--Studies of dreams of normal individuals based on
large collections of instances are singularly few in number; such as
there are indicate great variations in the source of dream thoughts and
images, in the coherence of the dream, and in the powers of memory. In
ordinary life attention dominates the images presented; in dreams
heterogeneous and disconnected elements are often combined; a
resemblance need not even have been consciously recognized for the mind
to combine two impressions in a dream; for example, an aching tooth may
(according to the dream) be extracted, and found to resemble rocks on
the sea-shore, which had not struck the waking mind as in any way like
teeth. Incongruence and incoherence are not, however, a necessary
characteristic of dreams, and individuals are found whose dream ideas
and scenes show a power of reasoning and orderliness equal to that of a
scene imagined or experienced in ordinary life. In some cases the
reasoning power may attain a higher level than that of the ordinary
conscious life. In a well-authenticated case Professor Hilprecht was
able in a dream to solve a difficulty connected with two Babylonian
inscriptions, which had not previously been recognized as complementary
to each other; a point of peculiar interest is the dramatic form in
which the information came to him--an old Babylonian priest appeared in
his dream and gave him the clue to the problem (see also below,
Personality).

_Memory in Dreams._--Although prima facie the dream memory is
fragmentary and far less complete than the waking memory, it is by no
means uncommon to find a revival in sleep of early, apparently quite
forgotten, experiences: more striking is the recollection in dreams of
matters never supraliminally (see SUBLIMINAL SELF) apperceived at all.

The relation between the memory in dreams and in the hypnotic trance is
curious: suggestions given in the trance may be accepted and then
forgotten or never remembered in ordinary life; this does not prevent
them from reappearing occasionally in dreams; conversely dreams
forgotten in ordinary life may be remembered in the hypnotic trance.
These dream memories of other states of consciousness suggest that
dreams are sometimes the product of a deeper stratum of the personality
than comes into play in ordinary waking life. It must be remembered in
this connexion that we judge of our dream consciousness by our waking
recollections, not directly, and our recollection of our dreams is
extraordinarily fragmentary; we do not know how far our dream memory
really extends. Connected with memory of other states is the question of
memory in dreams of previous dream states; occasionally a separate chain
of memory, analogous to a secondary personality, seems to be formed. We
may be also conscious that we have been dreaming, and subsequently,
without intermediate waking, relate as a dream the dream previously
experienced. In spite of the irrationality of dreams in general, it by
no means follows that the earlier and later portions of a dream do not
cohere; we may interpolate an episode and again take up the first
motive, exactly as happens in real life. The strength of the dream
memory is shown by the recurrence of images in dreams; a picture, the
page of a book, or other image may be reproduced before our eyes several
times in the course of a dream without the slightest alteration,
although the waking consciousness would be quite incapable of such a
feat of visualizing. In this connexion may be mentioned the phenomenon
of redreaming; the same dream may recur either on the same or on
different nights; this seems to be in many cases pathological or due to
drugs, but may also occur under normal conditions.

_Personality._--As a rule the personality of the dreamer is unchanged;
but it also happens that the confusion of identity observed with regard
to other objects embraces the dreamer himself; he imagines himself to be
some one else; he is alternately actor and observer; he may see himself
playing a part or may divest himself of his body and wander
incorporeally. Ordinary dreams, however, do not go beyond a splitting of
personality; we hold conversations, and are intensely surprised at the
utterances of a dream figure, which, however, is merely an _alter ego_.
As in the case of Hilprecht (see above) the information given by another
part of the personality may not only appear but actually be novel.

_Supernormal Dreams._--In addition to dreams in which there is a revival
of memory or a rise into consciousness of facts previously only
subliminally cognized, a certain number of dreams are on record in which
telepathy (q.v.) seems to play a part; much of the evidence is, however,
discounted by the possibility of hallucinatory memory. Another class of
dreams (prodromic) is that in which the abnormal bodily states of the
dreamer are brought to his knowledge in sleep, sometimes in a symbolical
form; thus a dream of battle or sanguinary conflict may presage a
haemorrhage. The increased power of suggestion which is the normal
accompaniment of the hypnotic trance may make its appearance in dreams,
and exercise either a curative influence or act capriciously in
producing hysteria and the tropic changes known as "stigmata." We may
meet with various forms of hyperaesthesia in dreams; quite apart from
the recovery of sight by those who have lost it wholly or in part (see
below, Dreams of the Blind), we find that the powers of the senses may
undergo an intensification, and, e.g., the power of appreciating music
be enormously enhanced in persons usually indifferent to it. Mention
must also be made of the experience of R. L. Stevenson, who tells in
_Across the Plains_ how by self-suggestion he was able to secure from
his dreams the motives of some of his best romances.

_Voluntary Action in Dreams._--Connected with dreams voluntarily
influenced is the question of how far dreams once initiated are
modifiable at the will of the dreamer. Some few observers, like F. W. H.
Myers and Dr F. van Eeden, record that they can at longer or shorter
intervals control their actions in their dreams, though usually to a
less extent than their imagined actions in waking life. Dr van Eeden,
for example, tells us that he has what he calls a "clear dream" once a
month and is able to predetermine what he will do when he becomes aware
that he is dreaming.

_Dreams of Children._--Opinions differ widely as to the age at which
children begin to dream; G. Compayré maintains that dreaming has been
observed in the fourth month, but reflex action is always a possible
explanation of the observed facts. S. de Sanctis found that in boys of
eleven only one out of eight said that he dreamt seldom, as against four
out of seven at the age of six; but we cannot exclude the possibility
that dreams were frequent but forgotten. If correct, the observation
suggests that dreams appear comparatively late. Individual cases of
dreaming, or possibly of waking hallucination, are known as early as the
age of two and a half years; according to de Sanctis dreams occur before
the fifth year, but are seldom remembered; as a rule the conscious dream
age begins with the fourth year; speech or movement, however, in earlier
years, though they may be attributed to reflex action, are more probably
due to dreams.

_Dreams of the Old._--In normal individuals above the age of sixty-five
de Sanctis found dreams were rare; atmospheric influences seem to be
important elements in causing them; memory of them is weak; they are
emotionally poor, and deal with long past scenes.

_Dreams of Adults._--Any attempt to record or influence our dreams may
be complicated by (a) direct suggestion, leading to the production of
the phenomena for which we are looking, and (b) indirect suggestion
leading to the more lively recollection of dreams in general and of
certain dreams in particular. Consequently it cannot be assumed that the
facts thus ascertained represent the normal conditions. According to F.
Heerwagen's statistics women sleep more lightly and dream more than men;
the frequency of dreams is proportional to their vividness; women who
dream sleep longer than those who do not; dreams tend to become less
frequent with advancing age. The total number of remembered dreams
varies considerably with different observers, some attaining an average
of ten per night. The senses mainly active in dreams are, according to
one set of experiments, vision in 60%, hearing in 5%, taste in 3%, and
smell in 1.5%, where the dreamers had looked at coloured papers before
falling asleep; when taste or smell had been stimulated, the visual
dreams fell to about 50%, and the sense stimulated was active twice as
often as it would otherwise be; dreams in which motion was a prominent
feature were 10% of the former class, 14% and 18% of the two latter.
Experiments by J. Mourly Vold show even more distinctly the influence of
suggestion both as to the form, visual or otherwise, and the content
(colours and forms of objects) of dreams. According to most observers
dreams are most vivid and frequent between the ages of 20 and 25, but H.
Maudsley puts the maximum between 30 and 35. De Sanctis got replies from
165 men and 55 women: the proportion between the sexes closely agrees
with the results attained by Heerwagen and M. W. Calkins; 13% of men and
33% of women said they always dreamt, 27% and 45% often, 50% and 13%
rarely, and the remainder (precisely the same percentage for men and
women--9.09) either did not dream or did not remember that they dreamt.
Nearly twice as many women as men had vivid dreams; in the matter of
complication of the dream experiences the sexes are about equal; daily
life supplies more material in the dreams of men; nearly twice as many
women as men remember their dreams clearly, a fact which hangs together
to some extent with the vividness of the dreams, though it by no means
follows that a vivid dream is well remembered. There are great
variations in the emotional character of dreams; some observers report
twice as many unpleasant dreams as the reverse; in other cases the
emotions seem to be absent; others again have none but pleasing dreams.
Individual experience also varies very largely as to the time when most
dreams are experienced; in some cases the great majority are subsequent
to 6.30 A.M.; others find that quite half occur before 4.0 A.M.

_Dreams of the Neuropathic, Insane, Idiots, &c._--Much attention has
been given to the dreams of hysterical subjects. It appears that their
dreams are specially liable to exercise an influence over their waking
life, perhaps because they do not distinguish them, any more than their
waking hallucinations, from reality. P. Janet maintains that the cause
of hysteria may be sought in a dream. The dreams of the hysterical have
a tendency to recur. Epileptic subjects dream less than the hysterical,
and their dreams are seldom of a terrifying nature; certain dreams seem
to take the place of an epileptic attack. Dreaming seems to be rare in
idiots. De Sanctis divides paranoiacs into three classes: (a) those with
systematized delusions, (b) those with frequent hallucinations, and (c)
degenerates;--the dreams of the first class resemble their delusions;
the second class is distinguished by the complexity of its dreams; the
third by their vividness, by their delusions of megalomania, and by
their influence on daily life. Alcoholic subjects have vivid and
terrifying dreams, characterized by the frequent appearance of animals
in them, and delirium tremens may originate during sleep.

_Dreams of the Blind, Deaf, &c._--As regards visual dreams the blind
fall into three classes--(1) those who are blind from birth or become
blind before the age of five; (2) those who become blind at the
"critical age" from five to seven; (3) those who become blind after the
age of seven. The dreams of the first class are non-visual; but in the
dreams of Helen Keller there are traces of a visual content; the second
class sometimes has visual dreams; the third class does not differ from
normal persons, though visual dreams may fade away after many years of
blindness. In the case of the partially blind the clearness of vision in
a dream exceeds that of normal life when the partial loss of sight
occurred in the sixth or later years. The education of Helen Keller is
interesting from another point of view; after losing the senses of sight
and hearing in infancy she began her education at seven years and was
able to articulate at eleven; it is recorded that she "talked" in her
dreams soon after. This accords with the experience of normal
individuals who acquire a foreign language. Her extraordinary memory
enables her to recall faintly some traces of the sunlit period of her
life, but they hardly affect her dreams, so far as can be judged. The
dreams of the blind, according to the records of F. Hitschmann, present
some peculiarities; animals as well as man speak; toothache and bodily
pains are perceived as such; impersonal dreaming, taking the form of a
drama or reading aloud, is found; and he had a strong tendency to
reproduce or create verse.

_Dreams of Animals._--We are naturally reduced to inference in dealing
with animals as with very young children; but various observations seem
to show that dreams are common in older dogs, especially after hunting
expeditions; in young dogs sleep seems to be quieter; dogs accustomed to
the chase seem to dream more than other kinds.

_Dreams among the Non-European Peoples._--In the lower stages of culture
the dream is regarded as no less real and its personages as no less
objective than those of the ordinary waking life; this is due in the
main to the habit of mind of such peoples (see ANIMISM), but possibly in
some measure also to the occurrence of veridical dreams (see TELEPATHY).
In either case the savage explanation is animistic, and animism is
commonly assumed to have been developed very largely as a result of
theorising dreams. Two explanations of a dream are found among the lower
races: (1) that the soul of the dreamer goes out, and visits his
friends, living or dead, his old haunts or unfamiliar scenes and so on;
or (2) that the souls of the dead and others come to visit him, either
of their own motion or at divine command. In either of the latter cases
or at a higher stage of culture when the dream is regarded as god-sent,
though no longer explained in terms of animism, it is often regarded as
oracular (see ORACLE), the explanation being sometimes symbolical,
sometimes simple.

There are two classes of dreams which have a special importance in the
lower cultures: (1) the dream or vision of the initiation fast; and (2)
the dream caused by the process known as incubation, which is often
analogous to the initiation fast. In many parts of North America the
individual Indian acquires a tutelary spirit, known as _manito_ or
_nagual_, by his initiation dream or vision; the idea being perhaps that
the spirit by the act of appearing shows its subjection to the will of
the man. Similarly, the magician acquires his familiar in North America,
Australia and elsewhere by dreaming of an animal. Incubation consists in
retiring to sleep in a temple, sometimes on the top of a mountain or
other unusual spot, in order to obtain a revelation through a dream.
Fasting, continence and other observances are frequently prescribed as
preliminaries. Certain classes of dreams have, especially in the middle
ages, been attributed to the influence of evil spirits (see DEMONOLOGY).

_Classical and Medieval Views of Dreams._--Side by side with the
prevalent animistic view of dreams we find in antiquity and among the
semi-civilized attempts at philosophical or physiological explanations
of dreams. Democritus, from whom the Epicureans derived their theory,
held the cause of them to be the simulacra or phantasms of corporeal
objects which are constantly floating about the atmosphere and attack
the soul in sleep--a view hardly distinguishable from animism.
Aristotle, however, refers them to the impressions left by objects seen
with the eyes of the body; he further remarks on the exaggeration of
slight stimuli when they are incorporated into a dream; a small sound
becomes a noise like thunder. Plato, too, connects dreaming with the
normal waking operations of the mind; Pliny, on the other hand, admits
this only for dreams which take place after meals, the remainder being
supernatural. Cicero, however, takes the view that they are simply
natural occurrences no more and no less than the mental operations and
sensations of the waking state. The pathological side of dreams
attracted the notice of physicians. Hippocrates was disposed to admit
that some dreams might be divine, but held that others were premonitory
of diseased states of the body. Galen took the same view in some of his
speculations.

Symbolical interpretations are combined with pathological no less than
animistic interpretations of dreams; they are also extremely common
among the lower classes in Europe at the present day, but in this case
no consistent explanation of their importance for the divination of
future events is usually discoverable. Among the Greeks Plato in the
_Timaeus_ (ch. xlvi, xlvii) explains dreams as prophetic visions
received by the lower appetitive soul through the liver; their
interpretation requires intelligence. The Stoics seem to have held that
dreams may be a divine revelation and more than one volume on the
interpretation of dreams has come down to us, the most important being
perhaps the [Greek: Oneirokritika] of Daldianus Artemidorus. We find
parallels to this in a Mussulman work by Gabdorrachaman, translated by
Pierre Vattier under the name of _Onirocrite mussulman_, and in the
numerous books on the interpretation of dreams which circulate at the
present day. In Siam dream books are found (_Intern. Archiv für Anthr._
viii 150); one of the functions of the Australian medicine man is to
decide how a dream is to be interpreted.

_Modern Views._--The doctrine of Descartes that existence depended upon
thought naturally led his followers to maintain that the mind is always
thinking and consequently that dreaming is continuous. Locke replied to
this that men are not always conscious of dreaming, and it is hard to be
conceived that the soul of the sleeping man should this moment be
thinking, while the soul of the waking man cannot recollect in the next
moment a jot of all those thoughts. That we always dream was maintained
by Leibnitz, Kant, Sir W. Hamilton and others; the latter refutes the
argument of Locke by the just observation that the somnambulist has
certainly been conscious, but fails to recall the fact when he returns
to the normal state.

It has been commonly held by metaphysicians that the nature of dreams is
explained by the suspension of volition during sleep; Dugald Stewart
asserts that it is not wholly dormant but loses its hold on the
faculties, and he thus accounts for the incoherence of dreams and the
apparent reality of dream images.

Cudworth, from the orderly sequence of dream combinations and their
novelty, argues that the state arises, not from any "fortuitous dancings
of the spirits," but from the "phantastical power of the soul."
According to K. A. Scherner, dreaming is a decentralization of the
movement of life; the ego becomes purely receptive and is merely the
point around which the peripheral life plays in perfect freedom. Hobbes
held that dreams all proceed from the agitation of the inward parts of a
man's body, which, owing to their connexion with the brain, serve to
keep the latter in motion. For Schopenhauer the cause of dreams is the
stimulation of the brain by the internal regions of the organism through
the sympathetic nervous system. These impressions the mind afterwards
works up into quasi-realities by means of its forms of space, time,
causality, &c.

BIBLIOGRAPHY.--For full lists of books and articles see J. M. Baldwin's
_Dictionary of Philosophy_, bibliography volume (1906), and S. de
Sanctis, _I Sogni_, also translated in German with additions as _Die
Träume_. Important works are--Binz, _Über den Traum_, Giessler _Aus den
Tiefen des Traumlebens_, Maury, _Le Sommeil et les rêves_, Radestock,
_Schlaf und Traum_, Tessié, _Les Rêves_, Spitta, _Schlaf und
Traumzustande_. For super-normal dreams see F. W. H. Myers, _Human
Personality_, vol i, and _Proc S P R_ viii 362. For voluntary dreams see
_Proc. S P R_ iv 241, xvii. 112. On prophetic dreams see _Monist_, xi
161, _Bull. Soc. Anth._ (Paris, 1901), 196, (1902), 228, _Rev. de
synthèse historique_ (1901), 151, &c. On incubation see Deubner, _De
incubatione_, Maury, La Magie. On the dreams of American Indians see
_Handbook of American Indians_ (Washington, 1907), s v "Dreams" and
"Manito." On the interpretation of dreams see Freud, _Die Traumdeutung_.
Other works are F. Greenwood, _Imagination in Dreams_, Hutchinson,
_Dreams and their Meanings_.     (N. W. T.)



DREDGE AND DREDGING. The word "dredge" is used in two senses. (1) From
Mid. Eng. _dragie_, through Fr. _dragée_, from Gr. [Greek: tragêmata],
sweetmeats, it means a confection of sugar formed with seeds, bits of
spice or medicinal agents. The word in this sense is obsolete, but
survives in "dredger," a box with a perforated top used for sprinkling
such a sugar-mixture, flour or other powdered substance. "Dredge" is
also a local term for a mixed crop of oats and barley sown together
("maslin" or "meslin," cf. Fr. _dragée_), and in mining is applied to
ore of a mixed value. (2) Connected with "drag," or at least derived
from the same root, dredge or dredger is a mechanical appliance for
collecting together and drawing to the surface ("dredging") objects and
material from the beds of rivers or the bottom of the sea. In the
following account the operations of dredging in this sense are discussed
(1) as involved in hydraulic engineering, (2) in connexion with the work
of the naturalist in marine biology.


1. HYDRAULIC ENGINEERING

Dredging is the name given by engineers to the process of excavating
materials under water, raising them to the surface and depositing them
in barges, or delivering them through a shoot, a longitudinal conveyor,
or pipes, to the place where it is desired to deposit them. It has long
been useful in works of marine and hydraulic engineering, and has been
brought in modern times to a state of high perfection.

The employment of dredging plant and the selection of special appliances
to be used in different localities and in varying circumstances require
the exercise of sound judgment on the part of the engineer. In rivers
and estuaries where the bottom is composed of light soils, and where the
scour of the tide can be governed by training walls and other works
constructed at reasonable expense, so as to keep the channel clear
without dredging, it is manifest that dredging machinery with its large
cost for working expenses and for annual upkeep should be as far as
possible avoided. On the other hand, where the bottom consists of clay,
rock or other hard substances, dredging must, in the first instance at
any rate, be employed to deepen and widen the channel which it is sought
to improve. In some instances, such as the river Mississippi, a deep
channel has for many years been maintained by jetties, with occasional
resort to dredging to preserve the required channel section and to
hasten its enlargement. The bar of the river Mersey is 11 m. from land,
and the cost of training works would be so great as to forbid their
construction; but, by a capital expenditure of £120,000 and an annual
expense of £20,000 for three years, the depth of water over the bar at
low tide has been increased by dredging from 11 ft. to 27 ft., the
channel being 1500 ft. wide.

_"Bag and Spoon" Dredger._--The first employment of machinery for
dredging is, like the discovery of the canal lock, claimed by Holland
and Italy, in both of which countries it is believed to have been in use
before it was introduced into Britain. The Dutch, at an early period,
used what is termed the "bag and spoon" dredger for cleansing their
canals. The "spoon" consisted of a ring of iron about 2 ft. in diameter
flattened and steeled for about a third of its circumference and having
a bag of strong leather attached to it by leathern thongs. The ring and
bag were fixed to a pole which was lowered to the bottom from the side
of a barge moored in the canal or river. The "spoon" was then dragged
along the bottom by a rope made fast to the iron ring actuated by a
windlass placed at the other end of the barge, the pole being prevented
from rising by a hitched rope which caused the "spoon" to penetrate the
bottom and fill the bag. When the "spoon" reached the end of the barge
where the windlass was placed, the winding was still continued, and the
suspended rope being nearly perpendicular the "bag" was raised to the
gunwale of the barge and the excavated material emptied into the barge.
The "bag" was then hauled back to the opposite end to be lowered for
another supply. This system is still in use, but is only adaptable to a
limited depth of water and a soft bottom; it has been largely used in
canals and frequently in the Thames. At the Fosdyke Canal in
Lincolnshire 135,000 tons were raised in the manner described. According
to J. J. Webster (_Proc. Inst. C. E._ vol. 89), the first application
of steam power for dredging operations was to a "spoon & bag" dredger
for cleansing Sunderland harbour, the engine being made by Messrs
Boulton & Watt of Soho, Birmingham.

_Dredging by Bucket between Two Lighters._--Another plan of dredging,
practised at an early period in rivers of considerable breadth, was to
moor two barges, one on each side of the river. Between them was slung
an iron dredging bucket, which was attached to both barges by chains
wound on the barrels of a crab winch worked by six men in one barge and
round a simple windlass worked by two men in the other barge. The
bucket, being lowered at the side of the barge carrying the windlass,
was drawn across the bottom of the river by the crab winch on the other
barge; and having been raised and emptied, it was hauled across by the
opposite windlass for repetition of the process. This process was in use
in the River Tay until 1833.

_Bucket Ladder Dredgers._--The earliest record of a bucket ladder
dredger is contained in the first paper of the first volume (1836) of
the _Transactions_ of the Institution of Civil Engineers. This machine
was brought into use at the Hull Docks about 1782. The bucket chain was
driven by two horses working a horse-gear on the deck of the vessel. The
buckets were constructed of 5/8 in. bars of iron spaced 1/8 in. apart,
and were 4 ft. long, 13 in. deep, 12 in. wide at the mouth and about 6
in. wide at the bottom. This dredger raised about 30 tons per hour at
the cost of 2½d. per ton, which covered the wages of three men working
the dredger, eight men working the lighters and the keep of three
horses. A dredger of this kind and power would only work in ballast, mud
or other soft material, but the machine was gradually improved and
increased in capacity and power by different manufacturers until it
became a very efficient machine in skilful hands, excavating and raising
material from depths of 5 ft. to 60 ft. of water at a cost not very
different from, and in many cases less than, that at which the same work
could be performed on land. With the powerful dredgers now constructed,
almost all materials, except solid rock or very large boulders, can be
dredged with ease. Loose gravel is perhaps the most favourable material
to work in, but a powerful dredger will readily break up and raise
indurated beds of gravel, clay and boulders, and has even found its way
through the surface of soft rock, though it will not penetrate very far
into it. In some cases steel diggers alternating with the buckets on the
bucket frame have been successfully employed. The construction of large
steam dredgers is now carried on by many engineering firms. The main
feature of the machine is the bucket ladder which is hung at the top end
by eye straps to the frame of the vessel, and at the lower end by a
chain reived in purchase blocks and connected to the hoisting gear, so
that the ladder may be raised and lowered to suit the varying depths of
water in which the dredger works. The upper tumbler for working the
bucket chain is generally square or pentagonal in form and made of steel
with loose steel wearing pieces securely bolted to it. The tumbler is
securely keyed to the steel shaft which is connected by gearing and
shafting to the steam engine, a friction block being inserted at a
convenient point to prevent breakage should any hidden obstacle causing
unusual strain be met with in the path of the buckets. The lower tumbler
is similar in construction to the upper tumbler, but is usually
pentagonal or hexagonal in shape. The buckets are generally made with
steel backs to which the plating of the buckets is riveted; the cutting
edge of the buckets consists of a strong steel bar suitably shaped and
riveted to the body. The intermediate links are made of hammered iron or
steel with removable steel bushes to take the wear of the connecting
pins, which are also of steel. The hoisting gear may be driven either
from the main engine by frictional gearing or by an independent set of
engines. Six anchors and chains worked by powerful steam crabs are
provided for regulating the position of the dredger in regard to its
work.

_Barge-loading Dredgers_ used formerly to be provided with two ladders,
one on each side of the vessel, or contained in wells formed in the
vessel near each side. Two ladders were adopted, partly to permit the
dredger to excavate the material close to a quay or wall, and partly to
enable one ladder to work while the other was being repaired. Bucket
ladder dredgers are now, however, generally constructed with one central
ladder working in a well; frequently the bucket ladder projects at
either the head or stern of the vessel, to enable it to cut its own way
through a shoal or bank, a construction which has been found very
useful. In one modification of this method the bucket ladder is
supported upon a traversing frame which slides along the fixed framing
of the dredger and moves the bucket ladder forward as soon as it has
been sufficiently lowered to clear the end of the well. In places where
a large quantity of dredging has to be done, a stationary dredger with
three or four large hopper barges proves generally to be the most
economical kind of plant. It has, however, the disadvantage of requiring
large capital expenditure, while the dredger and its attendant barges
take up an amount of space which is sometimes inconvenient where traffic
is large and the navigable width narrow. The principal improvements made
in barge-loading dredgers have been the increase in the size of the
buckets and the strength of the dredging gear, the application of more
economical engines for working the machinery, and the use of frictional
gearing for driving the ladder-hoisting gear. It is very important that
the main drive be fitted with the friction blocks or clutches before
alluded to.

  Up to the year 1877 dredgers were seldom made with buckets of a
  capacity exceeding 9 cub. ft., but since that time they have been
  gradually increased in capacity. In the dredger "Melbourne,"
  constructed by Messrs William Simons & Co. to the design and
  specification of Messrs Coode, Son & Matthews, about the year 1886,
  the buckets had a capacity of 22 cub. ft., the dredger being capable
  of making 37 ft. of water. The driving power consists of two pairs of
  surface-condensing engines, each of 250 i.h.p., having cylinders 20
  in. and 40 in. in diameter respectively, with a 30 in. stroke, the
  boiler pressure being 90 lb. per sq. in. The vessel is 200 ft. long
  by 36 ft. wide and 11 ft. 6 in. deep, and is driven by twin screw
  propellers. The gearing is arranged so that either pair of engines can
  be employed for dredging. The speed under steam is 7 knots, and in
  free-getting material 800 tons per hour can be dredged with ease. On
  one occasion the dredger loaded 400 tons in 20 minutes. The speed of
  the bucket chain is 83 lineal ft. per minute. The draught of the
  dredger in working trim is 7 ft. forward and 9 ft. aft. The efficiency
  of the machine, or the net work in raising materials compared with the
  power exerted in the cylinders, is about 25%. The dredged material is
  delivered into barges moored alongside. Contrasting favourably with
  former experience, the "Melbourne" worked for the first six months
  without a single breakage. She is fitted with very powerful mooring
  winches, a detail which is of great importance to ensure efficiency in
  working.

  The "St Austell" (Plate I. fig. 3), a powerful barge-loading dredger
  195 ft. long by 35 ft. 6 in. beam by 13 ft. deep, fitted with
  twin-screw compound surface-condensing propelling engines of 1000
  i.h.p., either set of engines being available for dredging, was
  constructed for H.M. Dockyard, Devonport, by Messrs Wm. Simons & Co.
  in 1896. This dredger loaded thirty-five 500-ton hopper barges in the
  week ending April 2, 1898, dredging 17,500 tons of material in the
  working time of 29 hours 5 minutes.

  An instance of a still larger and more powerful dredger is the
  "Develant," constructed by Messrs Wm. Simons & Co., for Nicolaiev,
  South Russia. She is a bow-well, barge-loading, bucket ladder dredger,
  with a length of 186 ft., a breadth, moulded, of 36 ft., and a depth,
  moulded, of 13 ft. The bucket ladder is of sufficient length to dredge
  36 ft. below the water level. The buckets are exceptionally large,
  each having a capacity of 36 cub. ft., or fully two tons weight of
  material, giving a lifting capacity of 1890 tons per hour. At the
  dredging trials 2000 tons of spoil were lifted in one hour with an
  expenditure of 250 i.h.p. The propelling power is supplied by one pair
  of compound surface-condensing marine engines of 850 i.h.p., having
  two cylindrical boilers constructed for a working pressure of 120 lb.
  per sq. in. Each boiler is capable of supplying steam to either the
  propelling or dredging machinery, thus allowing the vessel to always
  have a boiler in reserve. On the trials a speed of 8½ knots was
  obtained. The bucket ladder, which weighs over 100 tons, exclusive of
  dredgings, is raised and lowered by a set of independent engines. For
  manoeuvring, powerful winches driven by independent engines are placed
  at the bow and stern. The vessel is fitted throughout with electric
  light, arc lamps being provided above the deck to enable dredging to
  be carried on at night. Steam steering gear, a repairing shop, a
  three-ton crane, and all the latest appliances are installed on board.

  The "Dérocheuse" (Plate II. fig. 12), constructed by Messrs Lobnitz &
  Co., is a good example of the dredger fitted with their patent rock
  cutters, as used on the Suez Canal. These rock cutters consist of
  stamps passing down through the bottom of the dredger, slightly in
  advance of the bucket chain, and are employed for breaking up rock in
  front of the bucket ladder so that it may be raised by buckets
  afterwards. This system of subaqueous rock cutting plant, on Messrs
  Lobnitz's patent system, was effectively employed in deepening the
  Manchester Ship Canal, and removed a considerable length of rock,
  increasing the depth of water from 26 ft. to 28 ft. at a cost of about
  9d. per cub. yd. A full and illustrated description of this plant, and
  of a similar plant supplied to the Argentine Government, was published
  in _Engineering_ of August 17, 1906. An illustration of a bucket of 54
  cub. ft. capacity constructed by Messrs Lobnitz & Co. is given (Plate
  II fig. 11), from which some idea of the size of dredging machinery as
  developed in recent practice may be obtained. In regard to the depth
  of water that can be obtained by dredging, it is interesting to note
  that the dredger "Diver," constructed by Messrs. Hunter & English for
  Mr Samuel Williams of London, is capable of working in 60 ft. of
  water. In this vessel an ingenious arrangement was devised by Mr
  Williams, by which part of the weight of the dredger was balanced
  while the ladder itself could be drawn up through the bucket well and
  placed upon the deck, enabling a long ladder to be used for a
  comparatively short vessel. The "Tilbury" dredger, also constructed by
  Messrs Hunter & English, was able to dredge to a depth of 45 ft. below
  the surface of the water.

_Hopper Barges._--To receive the materials excavated by barge-loading
dredgers, steam hopper barges are now generally employed, capable of
carrying 500 tons or more of excavation and of steaming loaded at a
speed of about 9 m. per hour. These hopper barges are made with hinged
flaps in their bottoms, which can be opened when the place of deposit is
reached and the dredgings easily and quickly discharged.

Good examples of these vessels are the two steam hopper barges built for
the Conservators of the river Thames in 1898. The dimensions are: length
190 ft., breadth 30 ft., depth 13 ft. 3 in., hopper capacity 900 tons.
They are propelled by a set of triple expansion engines of 1200 i.h.p.,
with two return-tube boilers having a working pressure of 160 lb.
Special appliances are provided to work the hopper doors by steam power
from independent engines placed at the forward end of the hopper. A
steam windlass is fixed forward and a steam capstan aft. The vessels are
fitted with cabins for the officers and crew. On their trial trip, the
hoppers having their full load, a speed of 11 knots was obtained, the
coal consumption being 1.44 lb. per i.h.p.

_Methods of Dredging._--In river dredging two systems are pursued. One
plan consists in excavating a series of longitudinal furrows parallel to
the axis of the stream; the other in dredging cross furrows from side to
side of the river. It is found that inequalities are left between the
longitudinal furrows when that system is practised, which do not occur,
to the same extent, in side or cross dredging; and cross dredging leaves
a more uniform bottom. In either case the dredger is moored from the
head and stern by chains about 250 fathoms in length. These chains in
improved dredgers are wound round windlasses worked by the engine, so
that the vessel can be moved ahead or astern by simply throwing them
into or out of gear. In longitudinal dredging the vessel is worked
forward by the head chain, while the buckets are at the same time
performing the excavation, so that a longitudinal trench is made in the
bottom of the river. After proceeding a certain length, the dredger is
stopped and permitted to drop down and commence a new longitudinal
furrow, parallel to the first one. In cross dredging, on the other hand,
the vessel is supplied with four additional moorings, two on each side,
and these chains are, like the head and stern chains, wound round
barrels worked by steam power. In cross dredging we may suppose the
vessel to be moored at one side of the channel to be excavated. The
bucket frame is set in motion, but instead of the dredger being drawn
forward by the head chain, she is drawn across the river by the
starboard chains, and, having reached the extent of her work in that
direction, she is then drawn a few feet forward by the head chain, and
the bucket frame being still in motion the vessel is hauled across by
the port chains to the side whence she started. By means of this
transverse motion of the dredger a series of cross cuts is made; the
dredger takes out the whole excavation from side to side to a uniform
depth and leaves no protuberances such as are found to exist between the
furrows in longitudinal dredging, even when it is executed with great
care. The two systems will be understood by reference to fig. 1, where A
and B are the head and stern moorings, and C, D, E and F the side
moorings. The arc e f represents the course of the vessel in cross
dredging; while in longitudinal dredging, as already explained, she is
drawn forward towards A, and again dropped down to commence a new
longitudinal furrow.

[Illustration: Fig. 1.--Diagram showing Moorings for Transverse
Dredging.]

_Hopper Dredgers._--In places where barge-loading dredgers are
inconvenient, owing to confined space and interference with navigation,
and where it is necessary to curtail capital expenditure, hopper
dredgers are convenient and economical. These dredgers were first
constructed by Messrs. Wm. Simons & Co. of Renfrew, who patented and
constructed what they call the "Hopper Dredger," combining in itself the
advantages of a dredger for raising material and a scow hopper vessel
for conveying it to the place of discharge, both of which services are
performed by the same engines and the same crew.

The vessel for this type of dredger is made of sufficient length and
floating capacity to contain its own dredgings, which it carries out to
the depositing ground as soon as its hopper is full. Considerable time
is of course occupied in slipping and recovering moorings, and conveying
material to the depositing ground, but these disadvantages are in many
instances counterbalanced by the fact that less capital is required for
plant and that less room is taken up by the dredger. If the depositing
ground is far away, the time available for dredging is much curtailed,
but the four-screw hopper dredger constructed by Messrs Wm. Simons & Co.
for Bristol has done good work at the cost of 5d. per ton, including
wages, repairs, coals, grease, sundries and interest on the first cost
of the plant, notwithstanding that the material has to be taken 10 m.
from the Bristol Dock. She can lift 400 tons of stiff clay per hour from
a depth of 36 ft. below the water line, and the power required varies
from 120 i.h.p. to 150 i.h.p., according to the nature of the material.
The speed is 9 knots, and 4 propellers are provided, two at the head and
two at the stern, to enable the vessel to steam equally well either way,
as the river Avon is too narrow to permit her to be turned round.

  The hopper dredger "La Puissante" (Plate I. fig. 4), constructed by
  Messrs Wm. Simons & Co. for the Suez Canal Co. for the improvement of
  Port Said Roads, is a fine example of this class of dredger. She is
  275 ft. long by 47 ft. beam by 19 ft. deep. The hopper capacity is
  2000 tons, and the draught loaded 16 ft. 5 in. The maximum dredging
  depth is 40 ft., and the minimum dredging depth is only limited by the
  vessel's draught, she being able to cut her own way. The bucket ladder
  works through the well in the stern and weighs with buckets 120 tons.
  The buckets have each a capacity of 30 cub. ft. and raised on trial
  1600 tons per hour. The dredger is propelled by two sets of
  independent triple expansion surface-condensing engines of 1800 i.h.p.
  combined, working with steam at 160 lb. pressure, supplied by two
  mild steel multitubular boilers. Each set of engines is capable of
  driving the buckets independently at speeds of 16 and 20 buckets per
  minute. The bucket ladder is fitted with buffer springs at its upper
  end to lessen the shock when working in a seaway. The dredger can
  deliver the dredged material either into its own hopper or into barges
  lying on either side. The vessel obtained a speed of 9¾ knots per hour
  on trial. The coal consumption during 6 hours' steaming trial was 1.66
  lb. per i.h.p. hour. Fig. 9 (Plate I.) shows a still larger hopper
  dredger by the same constructors.

_Dredgers fitted with Long Shoot or Shore Delivering Apparatus._--The
first instance of dredgers being fitted with long shoots was in the Suez
Canal. The soil in the lakes was very variable, the surface being
generally loose mud which lay in some places in the sand, but frequently
more or less on hard clay. Resort was had to shoots 230 ft. long,
supported on pontoons connected with the hull of the dredger. The sand
flowed away with a moderate supply of water to the shoots when they were
fixed at an inclination of about 1 in 20, but when the sand was mixed
with shells these formed a coating which prevented the stream of water
from washing out the shoot, and even with an inclination of 1 in 10
material could not be delivered. A pair of endless chains working down
the long shoot overcame the difficulty, and also enabled hard clay in
lumps to be dealt with. One dredger turned out about 2000 cub. yds. of
thick clay in 15 hours, and when the clay was not hard it could deliver
150,000 cub. yds. in a month for several consecutive months.

Shore delivery has been successfully effected by raising the material by
buckets in the ordinary way and delivering it into a vertical cylinder
connected with floating jointed pipes through which the dredgings pass
to the shore. This, of course, can only be done where the place of
deposit is near the spot where the material is dredged. Two plans have
been satisfactorily employed for this operation. At the Amsterdam Canal
the stuff was discharged from the buckets into a vertical cylinder, and
after being mingled with water by a revolving Woodford pump was sent off
under a head of pressure of 4 or 5 ft. to the place of deposit in a
semi-fluid state through pipes made of timber, hooped with iron. These
wooden pipes were made in lengths of about 15 ft., connected with
leather joints, and floated on the surface of the water. A somewhat
similar process was also employed on the Suez Canal.

  A dredger (Plate I. fig. 5), constructed by Messrs Hunter & English
  for reclamation works on Lake Copais in Greece was fitted with
  delivery belts running on rollers in steel lattice frames on each side
  of the vessel supported by masts and ropes. It could deliver 100 cub.
  metres per hour at 85 ft. from the centre of the dredger, at a cost of
  1.82d. per cub. metre for working expenses, with coal at 45s. per ton,
  including 0.66d. per cub. metre for renewal of belts, upon which the
  wear and tear was heavy.

  Another instance of the successful application of shore delivery
  apparatus is that of a dredger for Lake Titicaca, Peru, constructed by
  Messrs Hunter & English, which was fitted with long shoots on both
  sides, conveying the dredged material about 100 ft. from the centre of
  the dredger upon either side. The shoots were supported by shear-legs
  and ropes, and were supplied with water from a centrifugal pump in the
  engine room. This dredger could excavate and deliver 120 cub. yds. per
  hour at a cost of 1.725d. per cub. yd. with coal costing 40s. per ton.
  If coal had been available at the ordinary rate in England of 20s. per
  ton, the cost of the dredging and delivery would have been 0.82d. per
  cub. yd. for wages, coal, oil, &c., but not including the salary of
  the superintendent.

  An interesting example of a shore delivering dredger is a light
  draught dredger constructed by Messrs Hunter & English for the Lakes
  of Albufera at the mouth of the river Ebro in Spain (Plate I. fig. 6).
  The conditions laid down for this dredger were that it should float in
  18 in. of water and deliver the dredged material at 90 ft. from the
  centre of its own hull. In order to meet these requirements the vessel
  was made of steel plates 1/8 in. thick, and longitudinal girders from
  end to end of the vessel, the upward strain of flotation being
  conveyed to them from the skin plating by transverse bulkheads at
  short intervals. The dredger was 94 ft. long, 25 ft. wide, and 3 ft.
  deep, and the height of the top tumbler above the water was 25 ft.
  When completed the dredger drew 17 in. of water. The dredgings were
  delivered by the buckets upon an endless belt, driven from the main
  compound surface-condensing engine, which ran over pulleys supported
  upon a steel lattice girder, the outer end of which rested upon an
  independent pontoon. This belt delivered the dredgings at 90 ft. from
  the centre of the dredger round an arc of 180°. The dredger delivered
  125 cub. yds. per hour of compact clay at a cost of 1.16d. per cub.
  yd. or 0.86d. per ton for wages, coal and stores. Another method of
  delivering dredgings is that of pneumatic delivery, introduced by Mr
  F. E. Duckham, of the Millwall Dock Co., by which the dredgings are
  delivered into cylindrical tanks in the dredger, closed by air-tight
  doors, and are expelled by compressed air either into the sea or
  through long pipes to the land. The Millwall Dock dredger is 113 ft.
  long, with a beam of 17 ft. and a depth of 12 ft. The draught loaded
  is 8 ft. It contains two cylindrical tanks, having a combined capacity
  of 240 cub. yds., and is fitted with compound engines of about 200
  i.h.p., with a 20 in. air-compressing cylinder. The discharge pipe is
  15 in. diameter by 150 yds. long. The nozzles of the air-injection
  pipes must not be too small, otherwise the compressed air, instead of
  driving out the material, simply pierces holes through it and escapes
  through the discharging pipe, carrying with it all the liquid and thin
  material in the tanks. The cost of working the Millwall Dock dredger
  is given by Mr Duckham at 1.75d. per cub. yd. of mud lifted, conveyed
  and deposited on land 450 ft. from the water-side, for working
  expenses only. This dredger is believed to be the first machine
  constructed with a traversing ladder, as suggested by Captain Gibson
  when dock-master of the Millwall Docks.

_Blasting combined with Dredging._--In some cases it has been found that
the bottom is too hard to be dredged until it has been to some extent
loosened and broken up. Thus at Newry, John Rennie, after blasting the
bottom in a depth of from 6 to 8 ft. at low water, removed the material
by dredging at an expense of from 4s. to 5s. per cub. yd. The same
process was adopted by Messrs Stevenson at the bar of the Erne at
Ballyshannon, where, in a situation exposed to a heavy sea, large
quantities of boulder stones were blasted, and afterwards raised by a
dredger worked by hand at a cost of 10s. 6d. per cub. yd. Sir William
Cubitt also largely employed blasting in connexion with dredging on the
Severn (see _Proc. Inst. C.E._ vol. iv. p. 362). The cost of blasting
and dredging the marl beds is given as being 4s. per cub. yd. A
combination of blasting and dredging was employed in 1875 by John Fowler
of Stockton at the river Tees. The chief novelty was in the barge upon
which the machinery was fixed. It was 58 ft. by 28 ft. by 4 ft., and had
eight legs which were let down when the barge was in position. The legs
were then fixed to the barge, so that on the tide falling it became a
fixed platform from which the drilling was done. Holes were bored and
charged, and when the tide rose the legs were heaved up and the barge
removed, after which the shots were discharged. There were 24 boring
tubes on the barge, and that was the limit which could at any time be
done in one tide. The area over which the blasting was done measured 500
yds. in length by 200 in breadth, a small part being uncovered at low
water. The depth obtained in mid-channel was 14 ft. at low water, the
average depth of rock blasted being about 4 ft. 6 in. The holes, which
were bored with the diamond drill, varied in depth from 7 to 9 ft., the
distance between them being 10 ft. Dynamite in tin canisters fired by
patent fuse was used as the explosive, the charges being 2 lb. and
under. The rock is oolite shale of variable hardness, and the average
time occupied in drilling holes 5 ft. deep was 12 minutes. The dredger
raised the blasted rock. The cost for blasting, lifting and discharging
at sea was about 4s. per cub. yd., including interest on dredging and
other plant employed. The dredger sometimes worked a face of blasted
material of from 7 to 8 ft. The quantity blasted was 110,000 cub. yds.,
and the contract for blasting so as to be lifted by the dredger was 3s.
1d. per cub. yd. A similar plan was adopted at Blyth Harbour (see _Proc.
Inst. C.E._ vol. 81, p. 302). The cost of the explosives per cub. yd.
was 1s. 4d., of boring 1s. 9d. per cub. yd., and of dredging 3s. per
cub. yd., including repairs, but nothing for the use of plant. The whole
cost worked out at 6s. 1d. per cub. yd. on the average.

_Sand-pump Dredgers._--Perhaps the most important development which has
taken place in dredging during recent years has been the employment of
sand-pump dredgers, which are very useful for removing sandy bars where
the particular object is to remove quickly a large quantity of sand or
other soft material. They are, however, apt to make large holes, and are
therefore not fitted for positions where it is necessary to finish off
the dredging work to a uniform flat bottom, for which purpose bucket
dredgers are better adapted. Pump dredgers are, however, admirable and
economical machines for carrying out the work for which they are
specially suited.

  In the discussion upon Mr J. J. Webster's paper upon
  "Dredging-Appliances" (_Proc. Inst. C.E._ vol. 89) at the Institution
  of Civil Engineers in 1886, Sir John Coode stated that he had first
  seen sand-pump dredgers at the mouth of the Maas in Holland. The
  centrifugal pump was placed against the bulkheads in the after part of
  the vessel, and the sand and water were delivered into a horizontal
  breeches-piece leading into two pipes running along the full length of
  the hopper. The difficulty of preventing the sand from running
  overboard was entirely obviated by its being propelled by the pump
  through these pipes, the bottoms of which were perforated by a series
  of holes. In addition, there were a few small flap-doors fixed at
  intervals, by means of which the men were able to regulate the
  discharge. On being tested, the craft pumped into its hopper 400 tons
  of sand in 22 minutes. The coamings round the well of the hoppers were
  constructed with a dip, and when the hopper was full the water ran
  over in a steady stream on either side. The proportion of sand
  delivered into the hopper was about 20% of the total capacity of the
  pump. The dredger was constructed by Messrs Smit of Kinderdijk, near
  Rotterdam. In the same discussion Mr A. A. Langley, then engineer to
  the Great Eastern railway, gave particulars of a sand pump upon the
  Bazin system, which had been used successfully at Lowestoft. The boat
  was 60 ft. long by 20 ft. wide, and the pump was 2 ft. in diameter,
  with a two-bladed disk. The discharge pipe was 12 in. in diameter. The
  pump raised 400 tons of sand, gravel and stones per hour as a maximum
  quantity, the average quantity being about 200 tons per hour. The
  depth dredged was from 7 ft. to 25 ft. The pump was driven by a
  double-cylinder engine, having cylinders of 9 in. diameter by 10 in.
  stroke, and making 120 revolutions per minute. An important
  improvement was made by fitting the working faces of the pump with
  india-rubber, which was very successful and largely reduced the wear
  and tear. The cost of the dredging at Lowestoft was given by Mr
  Langley at 2d. per ton, including delivery 2 m. out at sea. The
  quantity dredged was about 200,000 tons per annum.

  One of the earliest pumps to be applied to dredging purposes was the
  Woodford, which consisted of a horizontal disk with two or more arms
  working in a case somewhat similar to the ordinary centrifugal pump.
  The disk was keyed to a vertical shaft which was driven from above by
  means of belts or other gear coupled to an ordinary portable engine.
  The pump within rested on the ground; the suction pipe was so arranged
  that water was drawn in with the sand or mud, the proportions being
  regulated to suit the quality of the material. The discharge pipe was
  rectangular and carried a vertical shaft, the whole apparatus being
  adjustable to suit different depths of water. This arrangement was
  very effective, and has been used on many works. Burt & Freeman's sand
  pump, a modification of the Woodford pump, was used in the
  construction of the Amsterdam Ship Canal, for which it was designed.
  The excavations from the canal had to be deposited on the banks some
  distance away from the dredgers, and after being raised by the
  ordinary bucket dredger, instead of being discharged into the barges,
  they were led into a vertical chamber on the top side of the pump,
  suitable arrangements being made for regulating the delivery. The pump
  was 3½ ft. in diameter, and made about 230 revolutions per minute. The
  water was drawn up on the bottom side and mixed with the descending
  mud on the top side, and the two were discharged into a pipe 15 in. in
  diameter. The discharge pipe was a special feature, and consisted of a
  series of wooden pipes jointed together with leather hinges and
  floated on buoys from the dredger to the bank. In some cases this pipe
  was 300 yds. long, and discharged the material 8 ft. above the water
  level. Each dredger and pump was capable of discharging an average of
  1500 cub. yds. per day of 12 hours. Schmidt's sand pump is claimed to
  be an improvement on the Burt & Freeman pump. It consists of a
  revolving wheel 6 ft. in diameter, with cutters revolving under a hood
  which just allows the water to pass underneath. To the top side of the
  hood a 20 in. suction pipe from an ordinary centrifugal pump is
  attached. The pump is driven by two 16 in. by 20 in. cylinders, at 134
  revolutions per minute, the boiler pressure being 95 lb. per sq. in.
  This apparatus is capable of excavating sticky blue clayey mud, and
  will deliver the material at 500 to 650 yds. distance. The best
  results are obtained when the mixture of mud and water is as 1 to 6.5.
  The average quantity excavated per diem by the apparatus is 1300 cub.
  yds., the maximum quantity being 2500 cub. yds.

  Kennard's sand pump is entirely different from the pumps already
  described, and is a direct application of the ordinary lift pump. A
  wrought iron box has a suction pipe fitted at the bottom, rising about
  half way up the inside of the box; on the top of the box is fitted the
  actual pump and the flap valves. The apparatus is lowered by chains,
  and the pump lowered from above. As soon as the box is filled with
  sand it is raised, the catches holding up the bottom released, and the
  contents discharged into a punt.

  Sand-pump dredgers, designed and arranged by Mr Darnton Hutton, were
  extensively used on the Amsterdam Ship Canal. A centrifugal pump with
  a fan 4 ft. in diameter was employed, the suction and delivery pipes,
  each 18 in. in diameter, being attached to an open wrought-iron
  framework. The machine was suspended between guides fixed to the end
  of the vessel, which was fitted with tackle for raising, lowering and
  adjusting the machine. The vessel was fitted with a steam engine and
  boiler for working and manipulating the pumps and the heavy side
  chains for the guidance of the dredger. The engine was 70 h.p., and
  the total cost of one dredger was £8000. The number of hands required
  for working this sand-pump dredger was one captain, one engineer, one
  stoker and four sailors. Each machine was capable of raising about
  1300 tons of material per day, the engines working at 60 and the pump
  at 180 revolutions per minute. The sand was delivered into barges
  alongside the dredger. The cost of raising the material and depositing
  it in barges was about 1d. per ton when the sand pumps were working,
  but upon the year's work the cost was 2.4d. per cub. yd. for working
  expenses and repairs, and 1.24d. per cub. yd. for interest and
  depreciation at 10% upon the cost of the plant, making a total cost
  for dredging of 3.64d. per cub. yd. The cost for transport was 3.588d.
  per cub. yd., making a total cost for dredging and transport of
  7.234d. per cub. yd. Dredging and transport on the same works by an
  ordinary bucket dredger and barges cost 8.328d. per cub. yd.

  Two of the largest and most successful instances of sand-pump dredgers
  are the "Brancker" and the "G. B. Crow," belonging to the Mersey
  Docks and Harbour Board. Mr A. G. Lyster gave particulars of the work
  done by these dredgers in a paper read before the Engineering Congress
  in 1899. They are each 320 ft. long, 47 ft. wide and 20.5 ft. deep,
  the draught loaded being 16 ft. They are fitted with two centrifugal
  pumps, each 6 ft. in diameter, with 36 in. suction and delivery pipes,
  united into a 45 in. diameter pipe, hung by a ball and socket joint in
  a trunnion, so as to work safely in a seaway when the waves are 10 ft.
  high. The suction pipe is 76 ft. long and will dredge in 53 ft. of
  water. The eight hoppers hold 3000 tons, equivalent when solid to 2000
  cub. yds.; they can be filled in three-quarters of an hour and
  discharged in five minutes. Mr Lyster stated that up to May 1899, the
  quantity removed from bar and main-channel shoals amounted to
  41,240,360 tons, giving a width of channel of 1500 ft. through the
  bar, with a minimum depth of 27 ft. The cost of dredging on the bar by
  the "G. B. Crow" during 1898, when 4,309,350 tons of material were
  removed, was 0.61d. per ton for wages, supplies and repairs. These
  figures include all direct working costs and a proportion of the
  charge for actual superintendence, but no allowance for interest on
  capital cost or depreciation. On an average, 20% of the sand and mud
  that are raised escapes over the side of the vessel. Mr Lyster has,
  however, to a considerable extent overcome this difficulty by a
  special arrangement added to the hoppers (see _Proc. Inst. C.E._ vol.
  188).

  At the Engineering Conference, 1907, Mr Lyster read a note in which he
  stated that the total quantity of material removed from the bar of the
  Mersey, from the Crosby channel, and from other points of the main
  channel by the "G. B. Crow" and "Brancker" suction dredgers amounted
  to 108,675,570 tons up to the 1st of May 1907. "In the note of 1899
  (he added) it was pointed out that the Mersey was a striking instance
  of the improvement of a river by dredging rather than by permanent
  works, and the economy of the system as well as the advantage which
  its elasticity and adaptability to varying circumstances permit, was
  pointed out.... The most recent experience, which has resulted in the
  adoption of the proposal to revet the Taylor's bank, indicates that
  the dredging method has its limitations and cannot provide for every
  contingency which is likely to arise; at the same time, the utility
  and economy of the dredging system is in no way diminished.... Having
  regard to the ever-increasing size of vessels, a scheme for new docks
  and entrances on a very large scale received the authority of
  parliament during the session of 1905-1906 In this scheme it was
  considered necessary to make provision for vessels of 1000 ft. in
  length and 40 ft. in draught, and having regard to this prospective
  growth of vessels it has been determined still further to deepen and
  improve the outer channel of the Mersey. No fixed measure of
  improvement has been decided on, but after careful survey of existing
  conditions and a comparison with probable requirements, it has been
  determined to construct a dredger of 10,000 tons capacity, provided
  with pumping power equivalent to about three times that of any
  existing dredgers. By the use of this vessel it is anticipated that it
  will be possible to deal with very much larger quantities of sand at a
  cheaper rate, and to 10 ft. greater depth than the existing plant
  permits."

  The vessel in question was launched on the Mersey from the yard of
  Messrs Cammell, Laird & Co. in October 1908, and was named the
  "Leviathan." Her length is 487 ft., beam 69 ft., and depth 30 ft. 7
  in. Her dredging machinery consists of four centrifugal pumps driven
  by four sets of inverted triple expansion engines, and connected to
  four suction tubes 90 ft. long and 42 in. in internal diameter. Her
  propelling machinery, consisting of two sets of triple expansion
  engines, is capable of driving her at a speed of 10 knots.

  Another powerful and successful sand-pump dredger, "Kate" (Plate I.
  fig. 7), was built in 1897 by Messrs Wm. Simons & Co. Ltd. for the
  East London Harbour Board, South Africa. Its dimensions are: length
  200 ft., breadth 39 ft., depth 14 ft. 6 in., hopper capacity 1000
  tons. The pumping arrangements for filling the hopper with sand or
  discharging overboard consist of two centrifugal pumps, each driven
  from one of the propelling engines. The suction pipes are each 27 in.
  in diameter, and are so arranged that they may be used for pumping
  either forward or aft, as the state of the weather may require. Four
  steam cranes are provided for manipulating the suction pipes. Owing to
  the exceptional weather with which the vessel had to contend, special
  precautions were taken in designing the attachments of the suction
  pipes to the vessel. The attachment is above deck and consists of a
  series of joints, which give a perfectly free and universal movement
  to the upper ends of the pipes. The joints, on each side of the
  vessel, are attached to a carriage, which is traversed laterally by
  hydraulic gear. By this means the pipes are pushed out well clear of
  the vessel's sides when pumping, and brought inboard when not in work.
  Hydraulic cushioning cylinders are provided to give any required
  resistance to the fore and aft movements of the pipes. When the vessel
  arrived at East London on the 18th of July 1897, there was a depth of
  14 ft. on the bar at high tide. On the 10th of October, scarcely three
  months afterwards, there was a depth of 20 ft. on the bar at low
  water. Working 22 days in rough weather during the month of November
  1898, the "Kate" raised and deposited 2½ m. at sea 60,000 tons of
  dredgings. Her best day's work (12 hours) was on the 7th of November,
  when she dredged and deposited 6440 tons.

  A large quantity of sand-pump dredging has been carried out at
  Boulogne and Calais by steam hopper pump dredgers, workable when the
  head waves are not more than 3 ft. high and the cross waves not more
  than 1½ ft. high. The dredgings are taken 2 m. to sea, and the price
  for dredging and depositing from 800,000 to 900,000 cub. metres in 5
  or 6 years was 7.25d. per cub. yd. The contractor offered to do the
  work at 4.625d. per cub. yd. on condition of being allowed to work
  either at Calais or Boulogne, as the weather might permit. Sand-pump
  dredging has also been extensively carried out at the mouth of the
  ports of Amsterdam, Rotterdam and on the north coast of France by sand
  dredgers constructed by Messrs L. Smit & Son and G. & K. Smit. The
  largest dredger, the "Amsterdam," is 141 ft. by 27 ft. by 10 ft. 8
  in., and has engines of 190 i.h.p. The hopper capacity is 10,600 cub.
  ft., and the vessel can carry 600 tons of dredgings. The pump fan is 6
  ft. 3 in. in diameter by 10 in. wide, the plates being of wrought
  iron, and makes 130 revolutions a minute. The pump can raise 230 cub.
  ft. a minute from a depth of 33 ft., which, taking the proportion of 1
  of sand to 7 of water, gives a delivery of 29 cub. ft. of sand per
  minute. The hopper containing 10,600 cub. ft. was under favourable
  circumstances filled in 40 minutes. The vessels are excellent sea
  boats.

_Combined Bucket-Ladder and Sand-Pump Dredgers._--Bucket ladders and
sand pumps have also been fitted to the same dredger. A successful
example of this practice is furnished by the hopper dredger "Percy
Sanderson" (Plate I. fig. 8), constructed under the direction of Sir C.
A. Hartley, engineer of the Danube Commission for the deepening of the
river Danube and the Sulina bar. This dredger is 220 ft. by 40 ft. by 17
ft. 2 in., and has a hopper capacity for 1250 tons of dredgings. The
buckets have each a capacity of 25 cub. ft., and are able to raise 1000
tons of ordinary material per hour. The suction pump, which is driven by
an independent set of triple expansion engines, is capable of raising
700 tons of sand per hour, and of dredging to a depth of 35 ft. below
the water-line. The lower end of the suction pipe is controlled by
special steam appliances by which the pipe can be brought entirely
inboard. The "Percy Sanderson" raises and deposits on an average 5000
tons of material per day.

_Grab Dredgers._--The grab dredger was stated by Sir Benjamin Baker
(_Proc. Inst. C.E._ vol. 113, p. 38) to have been invented by Gouffé in
1703, and was worked by two ropes and a bar. Various kinds of apparatus
have been designed in the shape of grabs or buckets for dredging
purposes. These are usually worked by a steam crane, which lets the open
grab down to the surface of the ground to be excavated and then closes
it by a chain which forces the tines into the ground; the grab is then
raised by the crane, which deposits the contents either into the hopper
of the vessel upon which the crane is fixed or into another barge.

  The Priestman grab has perhaps been more extensively used than any
  other apparatus of this sort. It is very useful for excavating mud,
  gravel and soft sand, but is less effective with hard sand or stiff
  clay--a general defect in this class of dredger. It is also capable of
  lifting large loose pieces of rock weighing from 1 to 2 tons. A
  dredger of this type, with grab holding 1 ton of mud, dredged during
  six days, in 19 ft. of water, an average of 52½ tons and a maximum of
  68½ tons per hour, and during 12 days, in 16 ft. of water, an average
  of 48 tons and a maximum of 58 tons per hour, at a cost of 1.63d. per
  ton, excluding interest on the capital and depreciation. The largest
  dredger to which this apparatus has been applied is the grab bucket
  hopper dredger "Miles K. Burton" (Plate I. fig. 9), belonging to the
  Mersey Docks and Harbour Board. It is equipped with 5 grabs on
  Morgan's patent system, which is a modification of Priestman's, the
  grabs being worked by 5 hydraulic cranes. It raised and deposited, 12
  to 15 m. at sea, 11 loads of about 1450 tons each with a double shift
  of hands, at a cost of about 1s. 5d. per cub. yd. of spoil, including
  the working expenses for wages of crew, fuel and stores. Mr R. A.
  Marillier of Hull has stated that "the efficiency of these grabs is
  not at all dependent upon the force of the blow in falling for the
  penetration and grip in the material, as they do their work very
  satisfactorily even when lowered quite gently on to the material to be
  cut out, the jaws being so framed as to draw down and penetrate the
  material as soon as the upward strain is put on the lifting chain.
  Even in hard material the jaws penetrate so thoroughly as to cause the
  bucket to be well filled. The grab is found to work successfully in
  excavating hard clay from its natural bed on dry land." It is claimed
  on behalf of grabs that they lift a smaller proportion of water than
  any other class of dredger.

  Since the beginning of the 20th century considerable advance has been
  made in the use of Priestman grabs, not only for dredging and
  excavating (for which work they were originally designed), but also in
  discharging bulk cargo. The first quadruple dredger used by the
  Liverpool Docks Board had grabs of a capacity of 30 cub. ft., but
  subsequently second and third quadruple dredgers were put to work in
  the Liverpool Docks, with grabs having a capacity of 70 and 100 cub.
  ft. respectively. In discharging coal at Southampton, Havre, Erith,
  as well as at the coaling station at Purfleet on the Thames, grabs
  having a capacity of about 80 cub. ft. are in constant use. Perhaps
  the most difficult kind of bulk cargo to lift is "Narvick" iron ore,
  which sets into a semi-solid body in the holds of the vessels, and for
  this purpose one of the largest grabs, having about 150 cub. ft.
  capacity and weighing about 8 tons, has been adopted. This grab was
  designed as a result of experiments extending over a long period in
  lifting iron ore. It is fitted with long, forged, interlocked steel
  teeth for penetrating the compact material, which is very costly to
  remove by hand labour. The Priestman grab is made to work with either
  one or two chains or wire ropes. Grabs worked with two chains or ropes
  have many advantages, and are therefore adopted for large
  undertakings.

  Wild's single chain half-tine grab works entirely with a single chain,
  and has been found very useful in excavating the cylinders in Castries
  harbour. Upon experimenting with an ordinary grab a rather curious
  condition of things was observed with respect to sinking. On
  penetrating the soil to a certain depth the ground was found as it
  were nested, and nothing would induce the grab to sink lower. Sir W.
  Matthews suggested that a further set of external tines might possibly
  get over this difficulty. A new grab having been made with this
  modification, and also with a large increase of weight--all the parts
  being of steel--it descended to any required depth with ease, the
  outside tines loosening the ground effectually whilst the inside
  bucket or tines picked up the material.

_Miscellaneous Appliances._--There are several machines or appliances
which perhaps can hardly be called dredgers, although they are used for
cleansing and deepening rivers and harbours.

  Kingfoot's dredger, used for cleansing the river Stour, consisted of a
  boat with a broad rake fitted to the bow, capable of adjustment to
  different depths. At the sides of the boat were hinged two wings of
  the same depth as the rake and in a line with it. When the rake was
  dropped to the bottom of the river and the wings extended to the side,
  they formed a sort of temporary dam, and the water began to rise
  gradually. As soon as a sufficient head was raised, varying from 6 to
  12 in., the whole machine was driven forward by the pressure, and the
  rake carried the mud with it. Progress at the rate of about 3 m. an
  hour was made in this manner, and to prevent the accumulation of the
  dredgings, operations were begun at the mouth of the river and carried
  on backwards. The apparatus was very effective and the river was
  cleansed thoroughly, but the distance travelled by the dredger must
  have been great.

  In 1876 J. J. Rietschoten designed a "propeller dredger" for removing
  the shoals of the river Maas. It consisted of an old gunboat fitted
  with a pair of trussed beams, one at each side, each of which carried
  a steel shaft and was capable of being lowered or raised by means of a
  crab. An ordinary propeller 3 ft. 6 in. in diameter was fixed to the
  lower end of the shaft, and driven by bevel gear from a cross shaft
  which derived its motion by belting from the fly-wheel of a 12 h.p.
  portable engine. The propellers were lowered until they nearly reached
  the shoals, and were then worked at 150 revolutions per minute. This
  operation scoured away the shoal effectively, for in about 40 minutes
  it had been lowered about 3 ft. for a space of 150 yds. long by 8 yds.
  wide.

  A. Lavalley in 1877 designed an arrangement for the harbour of Dunkirk
  to overcome the difficulty of working an ordinary bucket-ladder
  dredger when there is even a small swell. A pump injects water into
  the sand down a pipe terminating in three nozzles to stir up the sand,
  and another centrifugal pump draws up the mixed sand and water and
  discharges it into a hopper, the pumps and all machinery being on
  board the hopper. To allow for the rising and falling of the
  vessel--either by the action of the tide or by the swell--the ends of
  the pipes are made flexible. The hopper has a capacity of 190 cub.
  yds., and is propelled and the pumps worked by an engine of 150 i.h.p.
  From 50 to 80 cub. yds. per hour can be raised by this dredger.

  The "Aquamotrice," designed by Popie, and used on the Garonne at Agen,
  appears to be a modification of the old bag and spoon arrangement. A
  flat-bottomed boat 51½ ft. long by 6½ ft. wide was fitted at the bow
  with paddles, which were actuated by the tide. Connected with the
  paddles was a long chain, passing over a pulley on uprights and under
  a roller, and a beam was attached to the chain 14 ft. 8 in. long,
  passing through a hole in the deck. At the end of the beam was an iron
  scoop 2 ft. wide and 2 ft. 6 in. deep. When the tide was strong enough
  it drew the scoop along by means of the paddles and chains, and the
  scoop when filled was opened by a lever and discharged. About 65 cub.
  yds. of gravel could be raised by the apparatus in 12 hours. When the
  tide failed the apparatus was worked by men.

  The Danube Steam Navigation Co. removed the shingle in the shallow
  parts of the river by means of a triangular rake with wrought-iron
  sides 18 ft. long, and fitted with 34 teeth of chilled cast iron 12
  in. deep. This rake was hung from the bow of a steamer 180 ft. long by
  21 ft. beam, and dragged across the shallows, increasing the depth of
  water in one instance from 5 ft. 6 in. to 9 ft., after passing over
  the bank 355 times.

  A combination of a harrow and high pressure water jets, arranged by B.
  Tydeman, was found very efficacious in removing a large quantity of
  mud which accumulated in the Tilbury Dock basin, which has an area of
  about 17 acres, with a depth of 26 ft. at low-water spring tides. In
  the first instance chain harrows merely were used, but the addition of
  the water jets added materially to the success of the operation. The
  system accomplished in six tides more than was done in twelve tides
  without the water jets which worked at about 80 lb pressure per sq.
  in. at the bottom of the dock.

  Ive's excavator consists of a long weighted spear, with a sort of
  spade at the end of it. The spade is hinged at the top, and is capable
  of being turned at right angles to the spear by a chain attached to
  the end of the spear. The spade is driven into the ground, and after
  releasing the catch which holds it in position during its descent, it
  is drawn up at right angles to the spear by the chain, carrying the
  material with it. Milroy's excavator is similar, but instead of having
  only one spade it generally has eight, united to the periphery of an
  octagonal iron frame fixed to a central vertical rod. When these eight
  spades are drawn up by means of chains, they form one flat table or
  tray at right angles to the central rod. In operation the spades hang
  vertically, and are dropped into the material to be excavated; the
  chains are then drawn up, and the table thus formed holds the material
  on the top, which is lifted and discharged by releasing the spade.
  This apparatus has been extensively used both in Great Britain and in
  India for excavating in bridge cylinders.

  The clam shell dredger consists of two hinged buckets, which when
  closed form one semi-cylindrical bucket. The buckets are held open by
  chains attached to the top of a cross-head, and the machine is dropped
  on to the top of the material to be dredged. The chains holding the
  bucket open are then released, while the spears are held firmly in
  position, the buckets being closed by another chain. Bull's dredger,
  Gatmell's excavator, and Fouracre's dredger are modifications with
  improvements of the clam shell dredger, and have all been used
  successfully upon various works.

  Bruce & Batho's dredger, when closed, is of hemispherical form, the
  bucket being composed of three or four blades. It can be worked by
  either a single chain or by means of a spear, the latter being
  generally used for stiff material. The advantage of this form of
  dredger bucket is that the steel points of the blades are well adapted
  for penetrating hard material. Messrs Bruce & Batho also designed a
  dredger consisting of one of these buckets, but worked entirely by
  hydraulic power. This was made for working on the Tyne. The excavator
  or dredger is fixed to the end of a beam which is actuated by two
  hydraulic cylinders, one being used for raising the bucket and the
  other for lowering it; the hydraulic power is supplied by the pumps in
  the engine-room. The novelty in the design is the ingenious way in
  which the lever in ascending draws the shoot under the bucket to
  receive its contents, and draws away again as the bucket descends. The
  hydraulic cylinder at the end of the beam is carried on gimbals to
  allow for irregularities on the surface being dredged. The hydraulic
  pressure is 700 lb. per sq. in., and the pumps are used in connexion
  with a steam accumulator.

  An unloading apparatus was designed by Mr A. Manning for the East &
  West India Dock Co. for unloading the dredged materials out of barges
  and delivering it on the marsh at the back of the bank of the river
  Thames at Crossness, Kent. A stage constructed of wooden piles
  commanded a series of barge beds, and the unloading dredger running
  from end to end of the stage, lifted and delivered the materials on
  the marsh behind the river wall at the cost of 1 d. per cub. yd.

_Dredging on the River Scheldt below Antwerp._--This dredging took place
at Krankeloon and the Belgian Sluis under the direction of L. Van
Gansberghe. At Melsele there is a pronounced bend in the river, causing
a bar at the Pass of Port Philip, and just below the pass of Lillo there
is a cross-over in the current, making a neutral point and forming a
shoal. After dredging to 8 metres (26.24 ft.) below low tide, in clay
containing stone and ferruginous matter, a sandstone formation was
encountered, which was very compact and difficult to raise. A suction
dredger being unsuited to the work, a bucket-ladder dredger was
employed. The dredging was commenced at Krankeloon in September 1894 and
continued to the end of 1897. A depth of 6 metres (19.68 ft.) was
excavated at first, but was afterwards increased to 8 metres (26.24
ft.). The place of deposit was at first on lands acquired by the State,
2.17 m. above Krankeloon, and placed at the disposal of the contractor.
The dredgings excavated by the bucket-ladder dredger were deposited in
scows, which were towed to the front of the deposit ground and
discharged by a suction pump fixed in a special boat, moored close to
the bank of the river. The material brought by the suction dredger in
its own hull was discharged by a plant fixed upon the dredger itself. In
both instances the material was deposited at a distance of 1640 ft. from
the river, the spoil bank varying in depth from 2 to 7 metres. The water
thrown out behind the dyke with the excavated material returned to the
river, after settlement, by a special discharge lock built under the
dyke. After 1896 the material was delivered into an abandoned pass by
means of barges with bottom hopper doors or by the suction dredger. One
suction dredger and three bucket-ladder dredgers were employed upon the
work, and a vessel called "Scheldt I." used for discharging the material
from the scows. Four tugboats and twenty scows were also employed.

  The largest dredger, "Scheldt III.," was 147.63 ft. long by 22.96 ft.
  wide by 10.98 ft. deep, and had buckets of 21.18 cub. ft. capacity.
  The output per hour was 10,594 cub. ft. This dredger had also a
  complete installation as a suction dredger, the suction pipe being 2
  ft. diameter. The fan of the centrifugal pump was 5.25 ft. diameter,
  and was driven by the motor of the bucket ladder. The three bucket
  dredgers worked with head to the ebb tide. They could also work with
  head to the flood tide, but it took so long a time to turn them about
  that it was impracticable. The work was for from 13 to 14 hours a day
  on the ebb tide. The effective daily excavation averaged 4839 cub.
  yds. Each dredger was fitted with six anchors. The excavated cut was
  164 ft. wide by 6.56 ft. deep. "Scheldt III." was capable of lifting a
  mass 9.84 ft. thick. The suction dredger "Scheldt II." was of the
  multiple type, and is stated to be unique in construction. It can
  discharge material from a scow alongside, fill its own hopper with
  excavations, discharge its own load upon the bank or into a scow by
  different pipes provided for the purpose, and discharge its own load
  through hopper doors. The machinery is driven by a triple expansion
  engine of 300 i.h.p. working the propeller by a clutch. Owing to the
  rise and fall in the tide of 23 ft. the suction pipe is fitted with
  spherical joints and a telescopic arrangement. The vessel is 157.5 ft.
  by 28.2 ft. by 12.8 ft. The diameter of the pump is 5.25 ft. The wings
  of the pump are curved, the surface being in the form of a cylinder
  parallel to the axis of rotation, the directrix of which is an arc of
  a circle of 2.62 ft. radius with the straight part beyond. The suction
  and discharge pipes are 2 ft. diameter. A centrifugal pump is provided
  for throwing water into the scows to liquefy the material during
  discharge. The dredger, which is fitted with electric lights for work
  at night, is held by two anchors, to prevent lurching backwards and
  forwards; it can work on the flood as well as on the ebb tide, and can
  excavate to a depth of 42.65 ft., the output depending upon the nature
  of the material. With good material it can fill its tanks in thirty
  minutes. To empty the tanks by suction and discharge upon the bank
  over the dyke takes about fifty minutes, depending upon the height and
  distance to which the material requires to be delivered. The daily
  work has averaged eighteen hours, ten trips being made when the
  distance from the dredging ground to the point of delivery is about 1
  m. When the dredged material is discharged into the Scheldt, a
  quantity of 5886 cub. yds. has been raised and deposited in a day, the
  mean quantity being 4700 cub. yds. When the distance of transportation
  is increased to 2½ m., six voyages were made in a day, and the day's
  work amounted to 3530 cub. yds.

_Gold Dredgers._--Dredgers for excavating from river beds soil
containing gold are generally fitted with a screen and elevator.

[Illustration: FIG. 2.--Diagram showing Action of Lobnitz Gold Dredger.]

They have been extensively designed and built by Messrs Lobnitz & Co.
(fig. 2) and also by Messrs Hunter & English.

  The writer is indebted to the _Proceedings_ of the Institution of
  Civil Engineers, and especially to the paper of Mr J. J. Webster
  (_Proc. Inst. C.E._ vol. 89), for much valuable information upon the
  subject treated. He is also indebted to many manufacturers who have
  furnished him with particulars and photographs of dredging plant.
       (W. H.*)


Plate I.

[Illustration: FIG. 3.--Barge-loading dredger, "St Austell," constructed
for the British Government by Wm. Simons & Co.]

[Illustration: FIG. 4.--Stern-well hopper-dredger "La Puissante," by Wm.
Simons & Co. Length 275 ft., breadth 47 ft., depth 19 ft.]

[Illustration: FIG. 5.--Dredger constructed for the Lake Copais Co. by
Hunter & English.]

[Illustration: FIG. 6.--Light-draught dredger, with delivery apparatus
working round an arc of 210°, by Hunter & English.]

[Illustration: FIG. 7.--Twin-screw sand-pump dredger, "Kate," built for
the East London Harbour Board by Wm. Simons & Co.]

[Illustration: FIG. 8.--Twin-screw hopper-dredger, "Percy Sanderson,"
built for the European Danube Commission by Wm. Simons & Co.]

[Illustration: FIG. 9.--Twin-screw grab-dredger, "Miles K. Burton,"
built for the Mersey Docks and Harbour Board by Wm. Simons & Co.]

[Illustration: FIG. 10.--Hopper-dredger, "David Dale," with buckets of
54 cub. ft. capacity (see fig. 11) built for the North Eastern Railway
Company by Lobnitz & Co.]


Plate II.

[Illustration: FIG. 11.--BUCKETS OF 5 AND 54 CUBIC FEET CAPACITY
COMPARED.

The latter, the largest ever made, were for the hopper-dredger "David
Dale" (Plate I. fig. 10), built by Lobnitz & Co.]

[Illustration: FIG. 12.--MODEL OF ROCK-CUTTING DREDGER, "DEROCHEUSE."

Built for special work on the Suez Canal by Lobnitz & Co. Length 180
ft., breadth 40 ft., depth 12 ft.]


2. MARINE BIOLOGY

The naturalist's dredge is an instrument consisting essentially of a net
or bag attached to a framework of iron which forms the mouth of the net.
When in use as the apparatus is drawn over the sea-bottom mouth
forwards, some part of the framework passes beneath objects which it
meets and so causes them to enter the net. It is intended for the
collection of animals and plants living on or near the sea-bottom, or
sometimes of specimens of the sea-bottom itself, for scientific
purposes.

Until the middle of the 18th century, naturalists who studied the marine
fauna and flora relied for their materials on shore collection and the
examination of the catches of fishing boats. Their knowledge of
creatures living below the level of low spring tides was thus gained
only from specimens cast up in storms, or caught by fishing gear
designed for the capture of certain edible species only. The first
effort made to free marine biology from these limitations was the use of
the dredge, which was built much on the plan of the oyster dredge.

  [Illustration: FIG. 13.--Otho Frederick Müller's Dredge (1770).]

  _The Oyster Dredge._--At first naturalists made use of the ordinary
  oyster dredge, which is constructed as follows. The frame is an iron
  triangle, the sides being the round iron "arms" of the dredge, the
  base a flat bar called the shere or lip, which is sloped a little, not
  perpendicular to the plane of the triangle; an iron bar parallel to
  the base joins the arms. The net is fastened to the parallel bars and
  the portion of the arms between them, and consists of two parts: that
  attached to the shere is of round iron rings linked together by
  smaller ones of wire lashings, that attached to the upper bar is of
  ordinary network. Where these two portions of the bag meet a wooden
  beam is fastened. In use the frame is towed forward by its apex: the
  shere passes below oysters, &c., which pass back on to the iron
  netting. The length of each side of the triangular frame is about 6
  ft., the width of the shere 3 in. and the height of the mouth just
  under a foot. The rings vary in size, but are usually some 2½ in. in
  diameter. The weight is about 60 lb. This dredge was soon abandoned:
  its weight was prohibitive for small boats, from which the naturalist
  usually worked, its wide rings allowed precious specimens to fall
  through, and its shallow net favoured the washing out of light objects
  on hauling through the moving water of the surface. Moreover, it
  sometimes fell on its back and was then useless, although when the
  apex or towing point was weighted no great skill is needed to avoid
  this.

  Otho Müller used a dredge (fig. 13) consisting of a net with a square
  iron mouth, each of whose sides was furnished with a thin edge turned
  slightly away from the dredge's centre. As any one of these everted
  lips could act as a scraper it was a matter of indifference which
  struck the bottom when the dredge was lowered. The chief defect of the
  instrument was the ease with which light objects could be washed out
  on hauling, owing to the size of the mouth. However, with this
  instrument Müller obtained from the often stormy Scandinavian seas all
  the material for his celebrated _Zoologia Danica_, a description of
  the marine fauna of Denmark and Norway which was published with
  excellent coloured plates in 1778; and historical interest attaches to
  the dredge as the first made specially for scientific work.

  _Ball's Dredge._--About 1838 a dredge devised by Dr Ball of Dublin was
  introduced. It has been used all over the world, and is so apt for its
  purpose that it has suffered very little modification during its 70
  years of life. It is known as Ball's dredge or more generally simply
  "the dredge."

  [Illustration: FIG. 14.--Ball's Naturalist's Dredge.]

  Ball's dredge (fig. 14) consists of a rectangular net attached to a
  rectangular frame much longer than high, and furnished with rods
  stretching from the four corners to meet at a point where they are
  attached to the dredge rope. It differs from Müller's dredge in the
  slit-like shape of the opening, which prevents much of the "washing
  out" suffered by the earlier pattern, and in the edges. The long edges
  only are fashioned as scrapers, being wider and heavier than Müller's,
  especially in later dredges. The short edges are of round iron bar.

  Like Müller's form, Ball's dredge will act whichever side touches the
  bottom first, as its frame will not remain on its short edge, and
  either of the long edges acts as a scraper. The scraping lips thicken
  gradually from free edge to net; they are set at 110° to the plane of
  the mouth, and in some later patterns curve outwards instead of merely
  sloping. All dredge frames are of wrought iron.

  The thick inner edges of the scrapers are perforated by round holes at
  distances of about an inch, and through these strong iron rings about
  an inch in diameter are passed, and two or three similar rings run on
  the short rods which form the ends of the dredge-frame. A light iron
  rod, bent to the form of the dredge opening, usually runs through
  these rings, and to this rod and to the rings the mouth of the
  dredge-bag is securely attached by stout cord or strong copper wire.
  Various materials have been used for the bag, the chief of which are
  hide, canvas and netting. The hide was recommended by its strength,
  but it is now abandoned. Canvas bags fill quickly with mud or sand and
  then cease to operate: on the other hand wide mesh net fails to retain
  small specimens. Probably the most suitable material is hand-made
  netting of very strong twine, the meshes half an inch to the side, the
  inter-spaces contracting to a third of an inch across when the twine
  is thoroughly soaked, with an open canvas or "bread-bag" lining to the
  last 6 in. of the net. A return to canvas covering has latterly
  occurred in the small dredge called the mud-bag, trailed behind the
  trawl of the "Albatross" for obtaining a sample of the bottom, and in
  the conical dredge.

  The dimensions of the first dredges were as follows: Frame about 12
  in. by about 4 in.; scraping lips about 2 in. wide; all other iron
  parts of round iron bar 5/8 in. diameter; bag rather more than 1 ft.
  long. These small dredges were used from rowing boats. Larger dredges
  were subsequently made for use from yawls or cutters. The mouth of
  these was 18 by 5 in., the scraping lips about 2 in. wide and bag 2
  ft. deep; such a dredge weighs about 20 lb. The dredge of the
  "Challenger" had a frame 4 ft. 6 in. by 1 ft. 3 in. and the bag had a
  length of 4 ft. 6 in.; the "Porcupine" used a dredge of the same size
  weighing 225 lb. Doubtless the size of Ball's dredge would have
  grown still more had it not been proved by the "Challenger" expedition
  that for many purposes trawls could be used advantageously instead of
  dredges.

_Operation of the Dredge from Small Vessels._ For work round the coasts
of Europe, at depths attainable from a row-boat or yawl, probably the
best kind of line is bolt-rope of the best Russian hemp, not less than
1½ in. in circumference, containing 18 to 20 yarns in 3 strands. Each
yarn should be nearly a hundredweight, so that the breaking strain of
such a rope ought to be about a ton. Of course it is never voluntarily
exposed to such a strain, but in shallow water the dredge is often
caught among rocks or coral, and the rope should be strong enough in
such a case to bring up the boat, even if there were some little way on.
It is always well, when dredging, to ascertain the approximate depth
with the lead before casting the dredge; and the lead ought always to be
accompanied by a registering thermometer, for the subsequent haul of the
dredge will gain greatly in value as an observation in geographical
distribution, if it be accompanied by an accurate note of the bottom
temperature. For depths under 100 fathoms the amount of rope paid out
should be at least double the depth; under 30 fathoms, where one usually
works more rapidly, it should be more nearly three times; this gives a
good deal of slack before the dredge if the boat be moving very slowly,
and keeps the lip of the dredge well down. When there is anything of a
current, from whatever cause, it is usually convenient to attach a
weight, varying from 14 lb. to half a hundredweight, to the rope 3 or 4
fathoms in front of the dredge. This prevents in some degree the lifting
of the mouth of the dredge; if the weight be attached nearer the dredge
it is apt to injure delicate objects passing in.

In dredging in sand or mud, the dredge-rope may simply be passed through
the double eye formed by the ends of the two arms of the dredge-frame;
but in rocky or unknown ground it is better to fasten the rope to the
eye of one of the arms only, and to tie the two eyes together with three
or four turns of rope-yarn. This stop breaks much more readily than the
dredge-rope, so that if the dredge get caught it is the first thing to
give way under the strain, and in doing so it often alters the position
of the dredge so as to allow of its extrication.

The dredge is slipped gently over the side, either from the bow or from
the stern--in a small boat more usually the latter--while there is a
little way on, and the direction which the rope takes indicates roughly
whether the dredge is going down properly. When it reaches the ground
and begins to scrape, an experienced hand upon the rope can usually
detect at once a tremor given to the dredge by the scraper passing over
the irregularities of the bottom. The due amount of rope is then paid
out, and the rope hitched to a bench or rowlock-pin. The boat should
move very slowly, probably not faster than a mile an hour. In still
water or with a very slight current the dredge of course anchors the
boat, and oars or sails are necessary; but if the boat be moving at all
it is all that is required. It is perhaps most pleasant to dredge with
a close-reefed sail before a light wind, with weights, against a very
slight tide or current; but these are conditions which cannot be
commanded. The dredge may remain down from a quarter of an hour to
twenty minutes, by which time, if things go well, it ought to be fairly
filled. In dredging from a small boat the simplest plan is for two or
three men to haul in, hand over hand, and coil in the bottom of the
boat. For a large yawl or yacht, and for depths over 50 fathoms, a winch
is a great assistance. The rope takes a couple of turns round the winch,
which is worked by two men, while a third hand takes it from the winch
and coils it down.

It is easier to operate a dredge from a steam vessel than a sailing
boat, but if the steamer is of any size great care should be taken that
the dredge does not move too rapidly.

Two ingenious cases of dredging under unusual conditions are worthy of
mention, one case from shore, one from ice. In the Trondligem Fjord,
Canon A. M. Norman in 1890 worked by hauling the dredge up the
precipitous shores of the fjord. The dredge was shot from a boat close
to the shore, to which after paying out some hundreds of fathoms of line
it returned. The dredge was then hauled from the top of the cliffs up
whose side it scraped. Hitches against projecting rocks were frequent
and were overcome by suddenly paying out line for a time. The dredge was
lifted into a boat when it reached the surface of the sea. The other
case occurred during the Antarctic expedition of the "Discovery."
Hodgson dropped loops of line along cracks which occasionally formed in
the ice. The ice always joined up again, but with the line below it; and
a hole being cleared at each place at which the end of the line emerged,
the dredge could be worked between them.

The dredge comes up variously freighted according to the locality, and
the next step is to examine its contents and to store the objects of
search for future use. In a regularly organized dredging expedition a
frame or platform is often erected with a ledge round it to receive the
contents of the dredge, but it does well enough to capsize it on an old
piece of tarpaulin. There are two ways of emptying the dredge; we may
either turn it up and pour out its contents by the mouth, or we may have
a contrivance by which the bottom of the bag is made to unlace. The
first plan is the simpler and the one more usually adopted; the second
has the advantage of letting the mass slide out more smoothly and
easily, but the lacing introduces rather a damaging complication, as it
is apt to loosen or give way. Any objects visible on the surface of the
heap are now carefully removed, and placed for identification in jars or
tubs of sea-water, of which there should be a number secured in some
form of bottle basket, standing ready. The heap should not be much
disturbed, for the delicate objects contained in it have already been
unavoidably subjected to a good deal of rough usage, and the less
friction among the stones the better.

_Examination of the Catch. Sifting._--The sorting of the catch is
facilitated by sifting. The sieves used in early English expeditions
were of various sizes and meshes, each sieve having a finer mesh than
the sieve smaller than itself. In use the whole were put together in the
form of a nest, the smallest one with the coarsest mesh being on top. A
little of the dredge's contents were then put in the top sieve, and the
whole set moved gently up and down in a tub of sea water by handles
attached to the bottom one. Objects of different sizes are thus left in
different sieves. A simple but effective plan is to let the sieves of
various sized mesh fit accurately on each other like lids, the coarsest
on top, and to pour water upon material placed on the top one. In the
United States Bureau of Fisheries ship "Albatross" these sieves are
raised to form a table and the water is led on them from a hose: the
very finest objects or sediments are retained by the waste water
escaping from a catchment tub by muslin bags let into its sides. Any of
these methods are preferable to sifting by the agitation of a sieve hung
over the side, as in the last anything passing through the sieve is gone
past recall.

_Preservation of Specimens._--The preservation of specimens will of
course depend on the purpose for which they are intended. For
microscopic observation formaldehyde has some advantages. It can be
stored in 40% solution and used in 2%, thus saving space, and it
preserves many animals in their colours for a time: formalin
preparations do not, however, last as well as do those in spirit. The
suitable fluids for various histological inquiries are beyond the scope
of the present article; but for general marine histology Bles' fluid is
useful, being simple to prepare and not necessitating the removal of the
specimen to another fluid. It is composed of 70% alcohol 90 parts,
glacial acetic acid 7 parts, 4% formaldehyde 7 parts.

The scientific value of a dredging depends mainly upon two things, the
care with which the objects procured are preserved and labelled for
future identification and reference, and the accuracy with which all the
circumstances of the dredging--the position, the depth, the nature of
the ground, the date, the bottom-temperature, &c.--are recorded. In the
British Marine Biological Association's work in the North Sea, a
separate sheet of a printed book with carbon paper and duplicate sheets
(which remain always on the ship) is used for the record of the
particulars of each haul; depth, gear, &c., being filled into spaces
indicated in the form. This use of previously prepared forms has been
found to be a great saving of time and avoids risk of omission. Whether
labelled externally or not, all bottles should contain parchment or good
paper labels written with a soft pencil. These cannot be lost. The more
fully details of reference number of station, gear, date, &c., are given
the better, as should a mistake be made in one particular it can
frequently be traced and rectified by means of the rest.

_Growth of Scope of Operations._--At the Birmingham meeting of the
British Association in 1839 an important committee was appointed "for
researches with the dredge with a view to the investigation of the
marine zoology of Great Britain, the illustration of the geographical
distribution of marine animals, and the more accurate determination of
the fossils of the Pliocene period." Of this committee Edward Forbes was
the ruling spirit, and under the genial influence of his contagious
enthusiasm great progress was made during the next decade in the
knowledge of the fauna of the British seas, and many wonderfully
pleasant days were spent by the original committee and by many others
who from year to year were "added to their number." Every annual report
of the British Association contains communications from the English, the
Scottish, or the Irish branches of the committee; and in 1850 Edward
Forbes submitted its first general report on British marine zoology.
This report, as might have been anticipated from the eminent
qualifications of the reporter, was of the highest value; and, taken
along with his remarkable memoirs previously published, "On the
Distribution of the Mollusca and Radiata of the Aegean Sea," and "On the
Zoological Relations of the existing Fauna and Flora of the British
Isles," may be said to mark an era in the progress of human thought.

The dredging operations of the British Association committee were
carried on generally under the idea that at the 100-fathom line, by
which amateur work in small boats was practically limited, the zero of
animal life was approached--a notion which was destined to be gradually
undermined, and finally overthrown. From time to time, however, there
were not wanting men of great skill and experience to maintain, with Sir
James Clark Ross, that "from however great a depth we may be enabled to
bring up mud and stones of the bed of the ocean we shall find them
teeming with animal life." Samples of the sea-bottom procured with great
difficulty and in small quantity from the first deep soundings in the
Atlantic, chiefly by the use of Brooke's sounding machine, an instrument
which by a neat contrivance disengaged its weights when it reached the
bottom, and thus allowed a tube, so arranged as to get filled with a
sample of the bottom, to be recovered by the sounding line, were eagerly
examined by microscopists; and the singular fact was established that
these samples consisted over a large part of the bed of the Atlantic of
the entire or broken shells of certain foraminifera. Dr Wallich, the
naturalist to the "Bulldog" sounding expedition under Sir Leopold
M'Clintock, reported that star-fishes, with their stomachs full of the
deep-sea foraminifera, had come up from a depth of 1200 fathoms on a
sounding line; and doubts began to be entertained whether the bottom of
the sea was in truth a desert, or whether it might not present a new
zoological region open to investigation and discovery, and peopled by a
peculiar fauna suited to its special conditions.

In the year 1867, while the question was still undecided, two testing
investigations were undertaken independently. In America Count L. F. de
Pourtales (1824-1880), an officer employed in the United States Coast
Survey under Benjamin Peirce, commenced a series of deep dredgings
across the Gulf Stream off the coast of Florida, which were continued in
the following year, and were productive of most valuable results; and in
Great Britain the Admiralty, on the representation of the Royal Society,
placed the "Lightning," a small gun-vessel, at the disposal of a small
committee to sound and dredge in the North Atlantic between Shetland and
the Faröe Islands.

In the "Lightning," with the help of a donkey-engine for winding in,
dredging was carried on with comparative ease at a depth of 600 fathoms,
and at that depth animal life was found to be still abundant. The
results of the "Lightning's" dredgings were regarded of so great
importance to science that the Royal Society pressed upon the Admiralty
the advantage of continuing the researches, and accordingly, during the
years 1869 and 1870, the gun-boat "Porcupine" was put under the orders
of a committee consisting of Dr W. B. Carpenter, Dr Gwyn Jeffreys, and
Professor (afterwards Sir Charles) Wyville Thomson, one or other of whom
superintended the scientific work of a series of dredging trips in the
North Atlantic to the north and west of the British Islands, which
occupied two summers.

In the "Porcupine," in the summer of 1869, dredging was carried down
successfully to a depth of 2435 fathoms, upwards of two miles and a
half, in the Bay of Biscay, and the dredge brought up well-developed
representatives of all the classes of marine invertebrates. During the
cruises of the "Porcupine" the fauna of the deep water off the western
coasts of Great Britain and of Spain and Portugal was tolerably well
ascertained, and it was found to differ greatly from the fauna of
shallow water in the same region, to possess very special characters,
and to show a very marked relation to the faunae of the earlier Tertiary
and the later Cretaceous periods.

In the winter of 1872, as a sequel to the preliminary cruises of the
"Lightning" and "Porcupine," by far the most considerable expedition in
which systematic dredging had ever been made a special object left Great
Britain. H.M.S. "Challenger," a corvette of 2306 tons, with auxiliary
steam working to 1234 h.p., was despatched to investigate the physical
and biological conditions of the great ocean basins.

The "Challenger" was provided with a most complete and liberal
organization for the purpose; she had powerful deck engines for hauling
in the dredge, workrooms, laboratories and libraries for investigating
the results on the spot, and a staff of competent naturalists to
undertake such investigations and to superintend the packing and
preservation of the specimens reserved for future study. Since the
"Challenger" expedition the use of wire rope has enabled far smaller
vessels to undertake deep sea work. The "Challenger," however, may be
said to have established the practicability of dredging at any known
depth.

_Operating Dredges and Trawls in deep Seas._--Dredging operations from
large vessels in deep seas present numerous difficulties. The great
weight of the ship makes her motion, whether of progress or rolling,
irresistible to the dredge. The latter tends to jump, therefore, which
both lowers its efficiency and causes it to exert a sudden strain on the
dredge rope.

The efficiency or evenness of dredging was secured, therefore, by the
special device of fastening a heavy weight some 200 or 300 fathoms from
the dredge end of the dredge rope. This was either lowered with the
dredge or sent down after by means of a "messenger," a ring of rope
fixed round, but running freely on, the dredge rope. The latter plan was
used on the "Challenger"; the weights were six 28 lb. leads in canvas
covers: their descent was arrested by a toggle or wooden cross-bar
previously attached to the rope at the desired point. When, however, the
rope used is of wire this front weight is unnecessary.

  The possibility of sudden strain necessitates a constant watching of
  the dredge rope, as the ship's engines may at any moment be needed to
  ease the tension by stopping the vessel's way, and the hauling engines
  by paying out more rope. The use of accumulators both renders the
  strain more gradual and gives warning of an increase or decrease;
  indeed they can be calibrated and used as dynamometers to measure the
  strain. One of the best forms of accumulator consists of a pile of
  perforated rubber disks, which receive the strain and become
  compressed in doing so. The arrangement is in essence as follows. The
  disks form a column resting on a cross-bar or base, from which two
  rods pass up one on each side of the column. Another cross-bar rests
  on the top disk, and from it a rod passes freely down the centre
  perforation of disks and base. Eyes are attached to the lower end of
  this rod and to a yoke connecting the side rods at the top: a pull
  exerted on these eyes is thus modified by the elasticity of the
  dredge. In the "Porcupine" and other early expeditions the accumulator
  was hung from the main yard arm, and the block through which the
  dredge rope ran suspended from it. In more recent ships a special
  derrick boom is rigged for this block, and a second accumulator is
  sometimes inserted between the topping lift by which this is raised
  and the end of the boom.

  The margin of safety of steel wire rope is much larger than is that of
  hempen rope, a fact of importance both in towing in a rough sea and in
  hauling. Galvanized steel wire with a hempen core was first used by
  Agassiz on the "Blake." He states that his wire weighed one pound per
  fathom, against two pounds per fathom of hempen rope, and had a
  breaking strain nearly twice that of hempen rope, which bore two tons.
  Thus in hauling the wire rope has both greater capability and less
  actual strain. It has also the advantages of occupying a mere fraction
  (1/9) of the storage space needed for rope, of lasting much longer,
  and its vibrations transmit much more rapid and minute indications of
  the conduct of the dredge.

  Wire rope is kept wound on reels supplied with efficient brakes to
  check or stop its progress, and an engine is often fitted for winding
  it in and veering it out. From the reel it passes to the drum of the
  hauling engine, round which it takes some few turns; care is taken by
  watching or by the use of an automatic regulator (Tanner) that it is
  taken at a rate equal to that at which it is moving over the side.
  From the hauling engine it passes over leading wheels (one of which
  should preferably be a registering wheel and indicate the amount of
  rope which has passed it), and so it reaches the end of the derrick
  boom.

The dredge is lowered from the derrick boom, which has been previously
trained over to windward so that its end is well clear of the ship,
while the ship is slowly moving forward. The rope is checked until the
net is seen to be towing clear, and then lowered rapidly. Where a weight
is used in front of the trawl Captain Calver successfully adopted the
plan of backing after sufficient line had been paid out: the part of the
rope from weight to surface thus became more vertical, while the shorter
remainder, previously in line with it, sank to the bottom without change
of relative position of weight and dredge. The ship was then ready for
towing. When no front weight is used the manoeuvre is unnecessary.

There should be a relation maintained between speed of vessel onward and
of rope downward, or a foul haul may result owing to the gear capsizing
(in the case of a trawl), or getting the net over the mouth (in a
dredge). The most satisfactory method of ensuring this relation seems to
be so to manage the two speeds that the angle made by the dredge rope is
fairly constant. This angle can be observed with a simple clinometer.
The following table abridged from Tanner most usefully brings together
the requisite angles with other useful quantities.

  +----------+----------------+---------+---------------+---------------+
  | Depth of | Speed of ship  |Length of|Angle of dredge|Angle of dredge|
  |  water.  | while shooting |  rope   |  rope while   |  rope while   |
  |          |dredge or trawl.|required.|lowering trawl.|dragging trawl.|
  +----------+----------------+---------+---------------+---------------+
  | Fathoms. |     Knots.     | Fathoms.|               |               |
  |    100   |       3        |   200   |       60      |      55       |
  |    200   |       3        |   400   |       60      |      55       |
  |    400   |       3        |   700   |       60      |      52       |
  |    600   |       2¾       |  1000   |       55      |      50       |
  |    800   |       2½       |  1200   |       50      |      44       |
  |   1000   |       2½       |  1500   |       50      |      40       |
  |   1500   |       2¼       |  2166   |       50      |      40       |
  |   2000   |       2        |  2670   |       45      |      35       |
  |   3000   |       2        |  4000   |       40      |      35       |
  +----------+----------------+---------+---------------+---------------+

The speed of towing, always slow, may be assumed to be approximately
correct if the appropriate angle is maintained. Hauling should at first
be slow from great depths, but may increase in speed as the gear rises.

  For further details of deep-sea dredging, especially of the hauling
  machinery and management of the gear, the special reports of the
  various expeditions must be consulted. Commander Tanner, U.S.N., has
  given in _Deep Sea Exploration_ (1897) a very full and good account of
  the equipment of an exploring ship; and to this book the present
  article is much indebted.

_Modifications and Additions to the Dredge._--From 1818, when Sir John
Ross brought up a fine Astrophyton from over 800 fathoms on a sounding
line in Baffin's Bay, instances gradually accumulated of specimens being
obtained from great depths without nets or traps. The naturalists of the
"Porcupine" and other expeditions found that echinoderms, corals and
sponges were often carried up adhering to the outer surface of the
dredge and the last few fathoms of dredge rope. In order to increase the
effectiveness of this method of capture a bar was fastened to the bottom
of the dredge, to which bunches of teased-out hemp were tied. In this
way specimens of the greatest interest, and frequently of equal
importance with those in the dredge bag, were obtained. The tangle bar
was at first attached to the back of the net. From the "Challenger"
expedition onward it has been fixed behind the net by iron bars
stretching back from the short sides of the dredge frame which pass
through eyes in their first ends (fig. 15). The swabs are thus unable to
fold over the mouth of the dredge. Rope lashings to the lips of the
dredge are sometimes added, and a weight is tied to the larger bar to
keep it down.

[Illustration: FIG. 15.--Deep-sea Dredge, with Tangle Bar.]

Occasionally the tangle bar is used alone (Agassiz), and one form
(Tanner) has two bars, stretching back like the side strokes of the
letter A from a strong steel spring in the form of an almost complete
circle. The whole is pulled forward from a spherical sinker fastened in
front of the spring apex; and should the apex enter a crevice between
rock masses, the side bars are closed by the pressure instead of
catching and bringing up. This is said to be a very useful instrument
among corals.

  _The Blake Dredge._--In the soft ooze which forms the bottom of deep
  seas the common dredge sinks and digs much too deeply for its ordinary
  purpose, owing partly to its chief weight bearing on the frame only,
  partly to its everted lips. To obviate these defects Lieutenant
  Commander Sigsbee of the "Blake" devised the Blake dredge. Its novel
  features were the frame and lips. The former was in the form of a
  skeleton box; that is, a rectangle of iron bars was placed at the back
  as well as the front or mouth of the net and four more iron bars
  connected the two rectangles. The lips instead of being everted were
  in parallel planes--those, namely, of the top and bottom of the net.
  The effect of this was to minimize digging and somewhat spread the
  incidences of the weight. Another advantage was that the net being
  constantly distended by its frame, and, moreover, protected top and
  bottom by an external shield of canvas, quite delicate specimens
  reached the surface uninjured. The dredge weighed 80 lb. and was 4
  ft. square and 9 in. deep.

  _Rake Dredges._--These are devices for collecting burrowing creatures
  without filling the dredge with the soil in which they live. Holt
  used, at Plymouth, a dredge whose side bars and lower lip were of
  iron, the latter armed with forward and downward pointing teeth which
  stirred up the sand and its denizens in front of the dredge mouth. The
  upper lip of the dredge was replaced by a bar of wood. The bag was of
  cheese-cloth or light open canvas, and the whole was of light
  construction. The apparatus was very useful in capturing small
  burrowing crustacea. The Chester rake dredge is a Blake dredge in
  front of which is secured a heavy iron rectangle with teeth placed
  almost at right angles to its long sides and in the plane of the
  rectangle. Each of these instruments has a width along the scraping
  edge of about 3 ft.

  _Triangular and Conical Dredges._--Two other dredges are worthy of
  mention. The triangular dredge, much resembling Müller's but with a
  triangular mouth, and hung by chains from its angles, is an old
  fashion now not in general use. It is, however, very useful for rocky
  ground. At the Plymouth marine laboratory was also devised the conical
  dredge (1901), the circular form being the suggestion of Garstang.
  This dredge (fig. 16) was intended for digging deeply. It is of
  wrought iron, and of the following dimensions: diameter of mouth 16
  in., length 33 in., depth of ring at mouth 9 in. Its weight is 67
  lb. As at first used the spaces between the bars are closed by wire
  netting; if used for collecting bottom samples it is furnished with a
  lining of strong sail-cloth.

  [Illustration: FIG. 16.--Conical Dredge being hoisted in.]

  Its weight and the small length of edge in contact with the ground
  cause this dredge to dig well, and enable the user to obtain many
  objects which though quite common are of rare occurrence in an
  ordinary dredge. Thus on the Brown Ridges, a fishing-ground west of
  Holland, although _Donax vittalus_ is known from examination of fish
  stomachs to be abundant, it is rarely taken except in the conical
  dredge: the same is true of _Echinocyamus pusillus_, which is in many
  parts of the North Sea abundant in bottom samples and in no ordinary
  dredgings. With the sail-cloth lining the conical dredge fills in
  about 10 minutes on most ground, and no material washing out of fine
  sediment occurs on hauling. In shallow seas such as the North Sea
  commercial beam and other trawls are now used as quantitative
  instruments in the estimation of the fish population, especially of
  the _Pleuronectidae_.

  _Use of Small Trawls for Dredging._--Although these trawls do not here
  concern us, certain adaptations of small beam trawls for biological
  exploration are of such identical use with the dredge, and differ from
  it so little in structure and size, that they may be here described.

  A small beam trawl was first used from the "Challenger" (fig. 17). It
  was sent down in 600 fathoms off Cape St Vincent, the reason for its
  use being the frequency with which the dredge sank into the sea-bottom
  and there remained until hauling. The experiment was entirely
  successful. The sinking of the net was avoided, the net had a much
  greater spread than the dredge, and in addition to invertebrates it
  captured several fish. After this the trawl was frequently used
  instead of the dredge. Indeed tangle bar, dredge and trawl form a
  series which are fitted for use on the roughest, moderately rough and
  fairly firm, and the softest ground respectively, although the dredge
  can be used almost anywhere.

  [Illustration: From Sir Charles Wyville Thomson's _Voyage of the
  "Challenger."_ By permission of Macmillan & Co., Ltd

  FIG. 17.--Trawl of the "Challenger."]

  The frame of the "Challenger" trawl consisted of a 15 ft. wooden beam
  which in use was drawn over the sea-bed on two runners resembling
  those of a sledge, by means of two ropes or bridles attached to eyes
  in the front of the runners or "trawl heads." A net 30 ft. long was
  suspended by one side to the beam by half-a-dozen stops. The remainder
  of the net's mouth was of much greater length than the beam, and was
  weighted with close-set rolls of sheet lead; it thus dragged along the
  bottom in a curve approximately to a semicircle, behind the beam. The
  net tapers towards the hinder end, and contains a second net with open
  bottom, which, reaching about three-quarters of the way down the main
  net, acts as a valve or pocket. Both heels (or hinder ends) of the
  trawl heads and the tail of the net were weighted to assist the net in
  digging sufficiently and to maintain its balance--an important point,
  since if the trawl lands on its beam the net's mouth remains closed,
  and nothing is caught.

  The main differences of this trawl from the dredge are the replacement
  of scraping lip by ground rope, the position of this ground rope and
  the greater size of the mouth. The absence of a lip makes it less
  effective for burrowing and sessile creatures, but the weighted ground
  rope nevertheless secures them to a very surprising extent. The
  position of the ground rope is an important feature, as any free
  swimming creature not disturbed until the arrival of the ground rope
  cannot escape by simply rising or "striking" up. This and the greater
  spread make the trawl especially suitable for the collection of fishes
  and other swiftly moving animals. The first haul of the "Challenger"
  trawl brought up fishes, and most of our knowledge of fish of the
  greatest depths is due to it.

  A tendency to return to the use of the small beam trawl for deep-sea
  work has lately shown itself. That used by Tanner on the "Albatross"
  has runners more heart-shaped than the "Challenger's" instrument; the
  net is fastened to the downward and backward sloping edge of the
  runner as well as to the beam, being thus fixed on three sides instead
  of one; and a Norwegian glass float is fastened in a network cover to
  that part of the net which is above and in front of the ground rope in
  use, to assist in keeping the opening clear. These floats can stand
  the pressure at great depths, and do not become waterlogged as do cork
  floats. The largest "Albatross" trawl has a beam 11 ft. long, runners
  2 ft. 5 in. high, and its frame weighs 275 lb.

  _Agassiz or Blake Trawl._--This is generally considered to possess
  advantages over the preceding, and is decidedly better for those not
  experts in trawling. Its frame (fig. 18) consists of two iron runners
  each the shape of a capital letter D, joined by iron rods or pipes
  which connect the middle of each stroke with the corresponding point
  on the other letter. The net is a tapering one, its mouth being a
  strong rope bound with finer rope for protection till the whole
  reaches a thickness of some 2 in. It is fastened to the frame at four
  points only, the ends of the curved rods, and thus has a rectangular
  opening.

  [Illustration: From Alexander E. Agassiz's _Three Cruises of the
  "Blake."_ By permission of Houghton, Mifflin & Co.

  FIG. 18.--Agassiz or Blake Trawl.]

  The chief advantage of this frame is that it does not matter in the
  least which side lands first on the bottom; it is to the other trawls
  what Ball's dredge is to an oyster dredge. The course can also be
  altered during shooting or towing the Blake trawl with far greater
  ease than is the case with others. An Agassiz trawl very successful in
  the North Sea has the following dimensions: length of the connecting
  rods and therefore of the mouth 8 ft., height of runners and of mouth
  1 ft. 9 in., extreme length of runners 2 ft., length of net 11 ft. 3
  in., weight of whole trawl 94 lb., 63 of which are due to the frame.

It is instructive to note how closely our knowledge of bottom-living
forms has been associated with the instruments of capture in use. As
long as small vessels were used in dredging, the belief that life was
limited to the regions accessible to them was widely spread. The first
known denizens of great depths were the foraminifera and few echinoderms
brought up by various sounding apparatus. Next with the dredge and
tangles the number of groups obtained was much greater. As soon as
trawls were adopted fish began to make their appearance. The greatest
gaps in our knowledge still probably occur in the large and swiftly
moving forms, such as fish and cephalopods. As we can hardly hope to
move apparatus swiftly over the bottom in great depths, the way in which
improvement is possible probably is that of increasing the spread of the
nets; and a start in this direction appears to have been made by Dr
Petersen, who has devised a modified otter sieve which catches fish at
all events very well, and has been operated already at considerable
depths.

Of the economy of quite shallow seas, however, we are still largely
ignorant. Much as has been learnt of the bionomics of the sea, it is but
a commencement; and this is of course especially true of deep seas. The
dredge and its kindred have, however, in less than a century enabled
naturalists to compile an immense mass of knowledge of the structure,
development, affinities and distribution of the animals of the sea-bed,
and in the most accessible seas to produce enumerations and
morphological accounts of them of some approach to completeness.
     (J. O. B.)



DRELINCOURT, CHARLES (1595-1669), French Protestant divine, was born at
Sedan on the 10th of July 1595. In 1618 he undertook the charge of the
French Protestant church at Langres, but failed to receive the necessary
royal sanction, and early in 1620 he removed to Paris, where he was
nominated minister of the Reformed Church at Charenton. He was the
author of a large number of works in devotional and polemical theology,
several of which had great influence. His _Catechism_ (_Catéchisme ou
instruction familière_, 1652) and his _Christian's Defense against the
Fears of Death_ (_Consolations de l'âme fidèle contre les frayeurs de la
mort, 1651_) became well known in England by means of translations,
which were very frequently reprinted. It has been said that Daniel Defoe
wrote his fiction of Mrs Veal (_A True Relation of the Apparition of Mrs
Veal_), who came from the other world to recommend the perusal of
_Drelincourt on Death_, for the express purpose of promoting the sale of
an English translation of the _Consolations_; Defoe's contribution is
added to the fourth edition of the translation (1706). Another popular
work of his was _Les Visites charitables pour toutes sortes de personnes
affligées_ (1669). Drelincourt's controversial works were numerous.
Directed entirely against Roman Catholicism, they did much to strengthen
and consolidate the Protestant party in France. He died on the 3rd of
November 1669.

Several of his sons were distinguished as theologians or physicians.
Laurent (1626-1681) became a pastor, and was the author of _Sonnets
chrétiens sur divers sujets_ (1677); Charles (1633-1697) was professor
of physic at the university of Leiden, and physician to the prince of
Orange; Peter (1644-1722) was ordained a priest in the Church of
England, and became dean of Armagh.



DRENTE, a province of Holland, bounded N. and N.E. by Groningen, S.E. by
the Prussian province of Hanover, S. and S.W. by Overysel, and N.W. by
Friesland; area, 1128 sq. m.; pop. (1900) 149,551. The province of
Drente is a sandy plateau forming the kernel of the surrounding
provinces. The soil consists almost entirely of sand and gravel, and is
covered with bleak moorland, patches of wood, and fen. This is only
varied by the strip of fertile clay and grass-land which is found along
the banks of the rivers, and by the areas of high fen in the
south-eastern corner and on the western borders near Assen. The surface
of the province is a gentle slope from the south-west towards the
north-east, where it terminates in the long ridge of hills known as the
Hondsrug (Dog's Back) extending along the eastern border into Groningen.
The watershed of the province runs from east to west across the middle
of the province, along the line of the Orange canal. The southern
streams are all collected at two points on the southern borders, namely,
at Meppel and Koevorden, whence they communicate with the Zwarte Water
and the Vecht respectively by means of the Meppeler Diep and the
Koevorden canal. The Steenwyker Aa, however, enters the Zuider Zee
independently. The northern rivers all flow into Groningen. The piles of
granite rocks somewhat in the shape of cromlechs which are found
scattered about this province, and especially along the western edge of
the Hondsrug, have long been named _Hunebedden_, from a popular
superstition that they were "Huns' beds." Possibly the word originally
meant "beds of the dead," or tombs.

Two industries have for centuries been associated with the barren heaths
and sodden fens so usually found together on the sand-grounds, namely,
the cultivation of buckwheat and peat-digging. The work is conducted on
a regular system of fen colonization, the first operation being directed
towards the drainage of the country. This is effected by means of
drainage canals cut at regular intervals and connected by means of cross
ditches. These draining ditches all have their issue in a main drainage
canal, along which the transport of the peat and peat-litter takes place
and the houses of the colonists are built. The heathlands when
sufficiently drained are prepared for cultivation by being cut into sods
and burnt. This system appears to have been practised already at the end
of the 17th century. After eight years, however, the soil becomes
exhausted, and twenty to thirty years are required for its
refertilization. The cultivation of buckwheat on these grounds has
decreased, and large areas which were formerly thus treated now lie
waste. Potatoes, rye, oats, beans and peas are also largely cultivated.
In connexion with the cultivation of potatoes, factories are established
for making spirits, treacle, potato-meal, and straw-paper. Furthermore,
agriculture is everywhere accompanied on the sand-grounds by the rearing
of sheep and cattle, which assist in fertilizing the soil. Owing to the
meagreness of their food these animals are usually thin and small, but
are quickly restored when placed on richer grounds. The breeding of pigs
is also widely practised on the sand-grounds, as well as forest culture.
Of the fen-colonies in Drente the best known are those of Frederiksoord
and Veenhuizen.

Owing to the general condition of poverty which prevailed after the
French evacuation in the second decade of the 19th century, attention
was turned to the means of industry offered by the unreclaimed
heath-lands in the eastern provinces, and in 1818 the Society of Charity
(_Maatschappij van Weldadigheid_) was formed with Count van den Bosch at
its head. This society began by establishing the free agricultural
colony of Frederiksoord, about 10 m. N. of Meppel, named after Prince
Frederick, son of William I., king of the Netherlands. An industrious
colonist could purchase a small farm on the estate and make himself
independent in two years. In addition to this, various industries were
set on foot for the benefit of those who were not capable of field work,
such as mat and rope making, and jute and cotton weaving. In later times
forest culture was added, and the Gerard Adriaan van Swieten schools of
forestry, agriculture and horticulture were established by Major van
Swieten in memory of his son. A Reformed and a Roman Catholic church are
also attached to the colony. To this colony the Society of Charity later
added the adjoining colonies of Willemsoord and Kolonie VII. in
Overysel, and Wilhelminasoord partly in Friesland. The colony of
Veenhuizen lies about 7 m. N.W. of Assen, and was founded by the same
society in 1823. In 1859, however, the Veenhuizen estates were sold to
the government for the purpose of a penal establishment for drunkards
and beggars.

Owing to its geographical isolation, the development of Drente has
remained behind that of every other province in the Netherlands, and
there are few centres of any importance, either agricultural or
industrial. Hence the character and customs of the people have remained
peculiarly conservative. Assen is the chief town. In the south Meppel
and Koevorden absorb the largest amount of trade. Hoogeveen, situated
between these two, owes its origin to the fen reclamation which was
begun here in 1625 by Baron van Echten. In the following year it was
erected into a barony which lasted till 1795. The original industry has
long since moved onwards to other parts, but the town remains a
prosperous market centre, and has a considerable industrial activity.
Extensive fir woods have been laid out in the neighbourhood. Zuidlaren
is a picturesque village at the northern end of the Hondsrug, with an
important market. The railway from Amsterdam to Groningen traverses
Drente; branch lines connect Meppel with Leeuwarden and Assen with
Delfzÿl.

_History._--The early history of Drente is obscure. That it was
inhabited at a remote date is proved by the prehistoric sepulchral
mounds, the _Hunebedden_ already mentioned. In the 5th and 6th centuries
the country was overrun by Saxon tribes, and later on was governed by
counts under the Frankish and German kings. Of these only three are
recorded, Eberhard (943-944), Balderic (1006) and Temmo (1025). In 1046
the emperor Henry III. gave the countship to the bishop and chapter of
Utrecht, who governed it through the burgrave, or châtelain, of
Koevorden, a dignity which became hereditary after 1143 in the family of
Ludolf or Roelof, brother of Heribert of Bierum, bishop of Utrecht
(1138-1150). This family became extinct in the male line about 1232, and
was succeeded by Henry I. of Borculo (1232-1261), who had married the
heiress of Roelof III. of Koevorden. In 1395 Reinald IV. (d. 1410) of
Borculo-Koevorden was deposed by Bishop Frederick of Utrecht, and the
country was henceforth administered by an episcopal official
(_amptman_), who was, however, generally a native. With its popularly
elected assembly of twenty-four Etten (_jurati_) Drente remained
practically independent. This state of things continued till 1522, when
it was conquered by Duke Charles of Gelderland, from whom it was taken
by the emperor Charles V. in 1536, and became part of the Habsburg
dominions.

Drente took part in the revolt of the Netherlands, and being a district
covered by waste heath and moor was, on account of its poverty and
sparse population, not admitted into the union as a separate province,
and it had no voice in the assembly of the states-general. It was
subdued by the Spaniards in 1580, but reconquered by Maurice of Nassau
in 1594. During the years that followed, Drente, though unrepresented in
the states-general, retained its local independence and had its own
stadtholder. William Louis of Nassau-Siegen (d. 1620) held that office,
and it was held later by Maurice, Frederick Henry, William II. and
William III., princes of Orange. At the general assembly of 1651 Drente
put forward its claim to admission as a province, but was not admitted.
After the deaths of William II. (1650) and of William III. (1702) Drente
remained for a term of years without a stadtholder, but in 1722 William
Charles Henry of the house of Nassau-Siegen, who, through the extinction
of the elder line, had become prince of Orange, was elected stadtholder.
His descendants held that office, which was declared hereditary, until
the French conquest in 1795. In the following year Drente at length
obtained the privilege, which it had long sought, of being reckoned as
an eighth province with representation in the states-general. Between
1806 and 1813 Drente, with the rest of the Netherlands, was incorporated
in the French empire, and, with part of Groningen, formed the department
of Ems Occidental. With the accession of William I. as king of the
Netherlands it was restored to its old position as a province of the new
kingdom.



DRESDEN, a city of Germany, capital of the kingdom of Saxony, 71 m.
E.S.E. from Leipzig and 111 m. S. from Berlin by railway. It lies at an
altitude of 402 ft. above the Baltic, in a broad and pleasant valley on
both banks of the Elbe. The prospect of the city with its cupolas,
towers, spires and the copper green roofs of its palaces, as seen from
the distance, is one of striking beauty. On the left bank of the river
are the Altstadt (old town) with four old suburbs and numerous new
suburbs, and the Friedrichstadt (separated from the Altstadt by a long
railway viaduct); on the right, the Neustadt (new town), Antonstadt, and
the modern military suburb Alberstadt. Five fine bridges connect the
Altstadt and Neustadt. The beautiful central bridge--the Alte or
Augustusbrücke--with 16 arches, built in 1727-1731, and 1420 ft. long,
has been demolished (1906) and replaced by a wider structure. Up-stream
are the two modern Albert and Königin Carola bridges, and, down-stream,
the Marien and the Eisenbahn (railway) bridges. The streets of the
Alstadt are mostly narrow and somewhat gloomy, those of the Neustadt
more spacious and regular.

On account of its delightful situation and the many objects of interest
it contains, Dresden is often called "German Florence," a name first
applied to it by the poet Herder. The richness of its art treasures, the
educational advantages it offers, and its attractive surroundings render
it a favourite resort of people with private means. There are a large
number of foreign residents, notably Austro-Hungarians and Russians, and
also a considerable colony of English and Americans, the latter
amounting to about 1500. The population of the city on the 1st of
December 1905 was 516,996, of whom 358,776 lived on the left bank
(Altstadt) and 158,220 on the right (Neustadt). The royal house belongs
to the Roman Catholic confession, but the bulk of the inhabitants are
Lutheran Protestants.

Dresden is the residence of the king, the seat of government for the
kingdom of Saxony, and the headquarters of the XII. (Saxon) Army Corps.
Within two decades (1880-1900) the capital almost at a single bound
advanced into the front rank of German commercial and industrial towns;
but while gaining in prosperity it has lost much of its medieval aspect.
Old buildings in the heart of the Altstadt have been swept away, and
their place occupied by modern business houses and new streets. Among
the public squares in the Altstadt must be mentioned the magnificent
Theaterplatz, with a fine equestrian statue of King John, by Schilling;
the Altmarkt, with a monument commemorative of the war of 1870-71; the
Neumarkt, with a bronze statue of King Frederick Augustus II., by E. J.
Hähnel; the Postplatz, adorned by a Gothic fountain, by Semper; and the
Bismarckplatz in the Anglo-American quarter. In the Neustadt are the
market square, with a bronze equestrian statue of Augustus the Strong;
the Kaiser Wilhelmplatz; and the Albertplatz. The continuous Schloss-,
See- and Prager-Strasse, and the Wilsdruffer- and König Johann-Strasse
are the main streets in the Altstadt, and the Hauptstrasse in the
Neustadt.

The most imposing churches include the Roman Catholic Hofkirche, built
(1739-1751) by C. Chiaveri, in rococo style, with a tower 300 ft. high.
It contains a fine organ by Silbermann and pictures by Raphael Mengs and
other artists, the outside being adorned with 59 statues by Mattielli.
On the Neumarkt is the Frauenkirche, with a stone cupola rising to the
height of 311 ft.; close to the Altmarkt, the Kreuzkirche, rebuilt after
destruction by fire in 1897, also with a lofty tower surmounted by a
cupola; and near the Postplatz the Sophienkirche, with twin spires. In
the Neustadt is the Dreikönigskirche (dating from the 18th century) with
a high pinnacled tower. Among more modern churches may be mentioned: in
the Altstadt, the Johanneskirche, with a richly decorated interior; the
Lukaskirche; and the Trinitatiskirche; and in the Neustadt, the Martin
Luther-Kirche and the new garrison church. Apart from the chapels in the
royal palaces, Dresden contains in all 32 churches, viz. 21 Evangelical,
6 Roman Catholic, a Reformed, a Russian, an English (erected by Gilbert
Scott) with a graceful spire, a Scottish (Presbyterian), and an American
(Episcopal) church, the last a handsome building, with a pretty
parsonage attached.

Of secular buildings, the most noteworthy are grouped in the Altstadt
near the river. The royal palace, built in 1530-1535 by Duke George (and
thus called Georgenschloss), was thoroughly restored, and in some
measure rebuilt between 1890 and 1902, in German Renaissance style, and
is now an exceedingly handsome structure. The Georgentor has been
widened, and through it, and beneath the royal apartments, vehicular
traffic from the centre of the town is directed to the Augustusbrücke.
The whole is surmounted by a lofty tower--387 ft.--the highest in
Dresden. The interior is splendidly decorated. In the palace chapel are
pictures by Rembrandt, Nicolas Poussin, Guido Reni and Annibale Caracci.
The adjoining Prinzen-Palais on the Taschenberg, built in 1715, has a
fine chapel, in which are various works of S. Torelli; it has also a
library of 20,000 volumes. The Zwinger, begun in 1711, and built in the
rococo style, forms an enclosure, within which is a statue of King
Frederick Augustus I. It was intended to be the vestibule to a palace,
but now contains a number of collections of great value. Until 1846 it
was open at the north side; but this space has since been occupied by
the museum, a beautiful Renaissance building, the exterior of which is
adorned by statues of Michelangelo, Raphael, Giotto, Dante, Goethe and
other artists and poets by Rietschel and Hähnel, and it contains the
famous picture gallery. The Brühl palace, built in 1737 by Count Brühl,
the minister of Augustus II., has been in some measure demolished to
make room for the new Ständehaus (diet house), with its main façade
facing the Hofkirche; before the main entrance there is an equestrian
statue (1906) of King Albert. Close by is the Brühl Terrace, approached
by a fine flight of steps, on which are groups, by Schilling,
representing Morning, Evening, Day and Night. The terrace commands a
view of the Elbe and the distant heights of Loschwitz and the Weisser
Hirsch, but the prospect has of late years become somewhat marred, owing
to the extension of the town up the river and to the two new up-stream
bridges. The Japanese palace in the Neustadt, built in 1715 as a summer
residence for Augustus II., receives its name from certain oriental
figures with which it is decorated; it is sometimes called the Augusteum
and contains the royal library. Among other buildings of note is the
Hoftheatre, a magnificent edifice in the Renaissance style, built after
the designs of Semper, to replace the theatre burnt in 1869, and
completed in 1878. A new town hall of huge dimensions, also in German
Renaissance, with an octagon tower 400 ft. in height, stands on the
former southern ramparts of the inner town, close to the Kreuzkirche. In
the Altstadt the most striking of the newer edifices is the
Kunstakademie, constructed from designs by K. Lipsius in the Italian
Renaissance style, 1890-1894. The Albertinum, formerly the arsenal,
built in 1559-1563, was rebuilt 1884-1889, and fitted up as a museum of
oriental and classical antiquities, and as the depository of the state
archives. On the right bank of the Elbe in Neustadt stand the fine
buildings of the ministries of war, of finance, justice, the interior
and education. The public monuments of Dresden also include the Moritz
Monument, a relief dedicated by the elector Augustus to his brother
Maurice, a statue of Weber the composer by Rietschel, a bronze statue of
Theodor Körner by Hähnel, the Rietschel monument on the Brühl Terrace by
Schilling, a bust of Gutzkow, and a statue of Bismarck on the promenade.
In the suburbs which encircle the old town are to be noted the vast
central Hauptbahnhof (1893-1898) occupying the site of the old
Böhmischer railway station, the new premises of the municipal hospital
and the Ausstellungs-Halle (exhibition buildings).

The chief pleasure-ground of Dresden is the Grosser Garten, in which
there are a summer theatre, the Reitschel museum, and a château
containing a museum of antiquities. The latter is composed chiefly of
objects removed from the churches in consequence of the Reformation.
Near the château is the zoological garden, formed in 1860, and
excellently arranged. A little to the south of Dresden, on the left bank
of the Elbe, is the village Räcknitz, in which is Moreau's monument,
erected on the spot where he was mortally wounded in 1813. The mountains
of Saxon Switzerland are seen from this neighbourhood.

_Art._--Dresden owes a large part of its fame to its extensive artistic,
literary and scientific collections. Of these the most valuable is its
splendid picture gallery, founded by Augustus I. and increased by his
successors at great cost. It is in the museum, and contains about 2500
pictures, being especially rich in specimens of the Italian, Dutch and
Flemish schools. The gem of the collection is Raphael's "Madonna di San
Sisto," for which a room is set apart. There is also a special room for
the "Madonna" of the younger Holbein. Other paintings with which the
name of the gallery is generally associated are Correggio's "La Notte"
and "Mary Magdalene"; Titian's "Tribute Money" and "Venus"; "The
Adoration" and "The Marriage in Cana," by Paul Veronese; Andrea del
Sarto's "Abraham's Sacrifice"; Rembrandt's "Portrait of Himself with his
Wife sitting on his Knee"; "The Judgment of Paris" and "The Boar Hunt,"
by Rubens; Van Dyck's "Charles I., his Queen, and their Children."

Of modern painters, this magnificent collection contains masterpieces by
Defregger, Vautier, Makart, Munkacsy, Fritz von Uhde, Böcklin, Hans
Thoma; portraits by Leon Pohle, Delaroche and Sargent; landscapes by
Andreas and Oswald Achenbach and allegorical works by Sascha Schneider.
In separate compartments there are a number of crayon portraits, most of
them by Rosalba Carriera, and views of Dresden by Canaletto and other
artists. Besides the picture gallery the museum includes a magnificent
collection of engravings and drawings. There are upwards of 400,000
specimens, arranged in twelve classes, so as to mark the great epochs in
the history of art. A collection of casts, likewise in the museum, is
designed to display the progress of plastic art from the time of the
Egyptians and Assyrians to modern ages. This collection was begun by
Raphael Mengs, who secured casts of the most valuable antiques in Italy,
some of which no longer exist.

The Japanese palace contains a public library of more than 400,000
volumes, with about 3000 MSS. and 20,000 maps. It is especially rich in
the ancient classics, and in works bearing on literary history and the
history of Germany, Poland and France. There are also a valuable cabinet
of coins and a collection of ancient works of art. A collection of
porcelain in the "Museum Johanneum" (which once contained the picture
gallery) is made up of specimens of Chinese, Japanese, East Indian,
Sèvres and Meissen manufacture, carefully arranged in chronological
order. There is in the same building an excellent Historical Museum. In
the Grüne Gewölbe (Green Vault) of the Royal Palace, so called from the
character of its original decorations, there is an unequalled collection
of precious stones, pearls and works of art in gold, silver, amber and
ivory. The objects, which are about 3000 in number, are arranged in
eight rooms. They include the regalia of Augustus II. as king of Poland;
the electoral sword of Saxony; a group by Dinglinger, in gold and
enamel, representing the court of the grand mogul Aurungzebe, and
consisting of 132 figures upon a plate of silver 4 ft. 4 in. square; the
largest onyx known, 6-2/3 in. by 2¼ in.; a pearl representing the dwarf
of Charles II. of Spain; and a green brilliant weighing 40 carats. The
royal palace also has a gallery of arms consisting of more than 2000
weapons of artistic or historical value. In the Zwinger are the
zoological and mineralogical museums and a collection of instruments
used in mathematical and physical science. Among other collections is
that of the Körner museum with numerous reminiscences of the
Goethe-Schiller epoch, and of the wars of liberation (1813-15), and
containing valuable manuscripts and relics. Founded by Hofrath Dr Emil
Peschel, it has passed into the possession of the city.

_Education._--Dresden is the seat of a number of well-known scientific
associations. The educational institutions are numerous and of a high
order, including a technical high school (with about 1100 students),
which enjoys the privilege of conferring the degrees of doctor of
engineering, doctor of technical sciences, &c., a veterinary college, a
political-economic institution (Gehestiftung), with library, a school of
architects, a royal and four municipal gymnasia, numerous lower grade
and popular schools, the royal conservatorium for music and drama, and a
celebrated academy of painting. Dresden has several important hospitals,
asylums and other charitable institutions.

_Music and the Theatres._--Besides the two royal theatres, Dresden
possesses several minor theatres and music halls. The pride of place in
the world of music is held by the orchestra attached to the court
theatre. Founded by Augustus II., it has become famous throughout the
world, owing to the masters who have from time to time been associated
with it--such as Paër, Weber, Reissiger and Wagner. Symphony and popular
concerts are held throughout the year in various public halls, and,
during the winter, concerts of church music are frequently given in the
Protestant Kreuz- and Frauen-Kirchen, and on Sundays in the Roman
Catholic church.

_Communications and Industries._--Dresden lies at the centre of an
extensive railway system, which places it in communication with the
chief cities of northern and central Germany as well as with Austria and
the East. Here cross the grand trunk lines Berlin-Vienna,
Chemnitz-Görlitz-Breslau. It is connected by two lines of railway with
Leipzig and by local lines with neighbouring smaller towns. The
navigation on the Elbe has of recent years largely developed, and, in
addition to trade by river with Bohemia and Magdeburg-Hamburg, there is
a considerable pleasure-boat traffic during the summer months. The
communications within the city are maintained by an excellent system of
electric trams, which bring the more distant suburbs into easy connexion
with the business centre. A considerable business is done on the
exchange, chiefly in local industrial shares, and the financial
institutions number some fifty banks, among them branches of the Reichs
Bank and of the Deutsche Bank. Among the more notable industries may be
mentioned the manufacture of china (see CERAMICS), of gold and silver
ornaments, cigarettes, chocolate, coloured postcards, perfumery,
straw-plaiting, artificial flowers, agricultural machinery, paper,
photographic and other scientific instruments. There are several great
breweries; corn trade is carried on, and an extensive business is done
in books and objects of art.

_Surroundings._--The environs of the city are delightful. To the north
are the vine-clad hills of the Lössnitz commanding views of the valley
of the Elbe from Dresden to Meissen; behind them, on an island in a
lake, is the castle of Moritzburg, the hunting box of the king of
Saxony. On the right bank of the Elbe, 3 m. above the city, lies the
village of Loschwitz, where Schiller, in the summer of 1786, wrote the
greater part of his _Don Carlos_: above it on the fringe of the Dresdner
Heide, the climatic health resort Weisser-Hirsch; farther up the river
towards Pirna the royal summer palace Pillnitz; to the south the
Plauensche Grund, and still farther the Rabenauer Grund.

_History._--Dresden (Old Slav _Drezga_, forest, _Drezgajan_,
forest-dwellers), which is known to have existed in 1206, is of Slavonic
origin, and was originally founded on the right bank of the Elbe, on the
site of the present Neustadt, which is thus actually the _old_ town. It
became the capital of Henry the Illustrious, margrave of Meissen, in
1270, but belonged for some time after his death, first to Wenceslaus of
Bohemia, and next to the margrave of Brandenburg. Early in the 14th
century it was restored to the margrave of Meissen. On the division of
Saxony in 1485 it fell to the Albertine line, which has since held it.
Having been burned almost to the ground in 1491, it was rebuilt; and in
the 16th century the fortifications were begun and gradually extended.
John George II., in the 17th century, formed the Grosser Garten, and
otherwise greatly improved the town; but it was in the first half of the
18th century, under Augustus I. and Augustus II., who were kings of
Poland as well as electors of Saxony, that Dresden assumed something
like its present appearance. The Neustadt, which had been burned down in
the 17th century, was founded anew by Augustus I.; he also founded
Friedrichstadt. The town suffered severely during the Seven Years' War,
being bombarded in 1760. Some damage was also inflicted on it in 1813,
when Napoleon made it the centre of his operations; one of the
buttresses and two arches of the old bridge were then blown up. The
dismantling of the fortifications had been begun by the French in 1810,
and was gradually completed after 1817, the space occupied by them being
appropriated to gardens and promenades. Many buildings were completed or
founded by King Anthony, from whom Antonstadt derives its name. Dresden
again suffered severely during the revolution of 1849, but all traces of
the disturbances which then took place were soon effaced. In 1866 it was
occupied by the Prussians, who did not finally evacuate it until the
spring of the following year. Since that time numerous improvements have
been carried out.

  See Lindau, _Geschichte der Haupt- und Residenzstadt Dresden_ (2
  vols., Dresden, 1884-1885); Prölss, _Geschichte des Hoftheaters in
  Dresden_ (Dresden, 1877); Schumann, _Führer durch die königl.
  Sammlungen zu Dresden_ (1903); Woerl, _Führer durch Dresden_; Daniel,
  _Deutschland_ (1894).


BATTLE OF DRESDEN. The battle of Dresden, the last of the great
victories of Napoleon, was fought on the 26th and 27th of August 1813.
The intervention of Austria in the War of Liberation, and the consequent
advance of the Allies under the Austrian field-marshal Prince
Schwarzenberg from Prague upon Dresden, recalled Napoleon from Silesia,
where he was engaged against the Prussians and Russians under Blücher.
Only by a narrow margin of time, indeed, was he able to bring back
sufficient troops for the first day's battle. He detached a column under
Vandamme to the mountains to interpose between Schwarzenberg and Prague
(see NAPOLEONIC CAMPAIGNS); the rest of the army pressed on by forced
marches for Dresden, around which a position for the whole army had been
chosen and fortified, though at the moment this was held by less than
20,000 men under Gouvion St Cyr, who retired thither from the mountains,
leaving a garrison in Königstein, and had repeatedly sent reports to the
emperor as to the allied masses gathering to the southward. The battle
of the first day began late in the afternoon, for Schwarzenberg waited
as long as possible for the corps of Klenau, which formed his extreme
left wing on the Freiberg road. At last, about 6 p.m. he decided to wait
no longer, and six heavy columns of attack advanced against the suburbs
defended by St Cyr and now also by the leading troops of the main army.
Three hundred guns covered the assault, and Dresden was set on fire in
places by the cannonade, while the French columns marched unceasingly
over the bridges and through the Altstadt. On the right the Russians
under Wittgenstein advanced from Striesen, the Prussians under Kleist
through the Grosser Garten, whilst Prussians under Prince Augustus and
Austrians under Colloredo moved upon the Moczinski redoubt, which was
the scene of the most desperate fighting, and was repeatedly taken and
retaken. The attack to the westward was carried out by the other
Austrian corps; Klenau, however, was still far distant. In the end, the
French defences remained unshaken. Ney led a counter-attack against the
Allies' left, the Moczinski redoubt was definitely recaptured from
Colloredo, and the Prussians were driven out of the Grosser Garten. The
_coup_ of the Allies had failed, for every hour saw the arrival of fresh
forces on the side of Napoleon, and at length the Austrian leader drew
off his men to the heights again. He was prepared to fight another
battle on the morrow--indeed he could scarcely have avoided it had he
wished to do so, for behind him lay the mountain defiles, towards which
Vandamme was marching with all speed.

[Illustration: Emery Walker sc.]

Napoleon's plan for the 27th was, as usual, simple in its outline. As at
Friedland, a ravine separated a part of the hostile line of battle from
the rest. The villages west of the Plauen ravine and even Löbda were
occupied in the early morning by General Metzko with the leading
division of Klenau's corps from Freiberg, and upon Metzko Napoleon
intended first to throw the weight of his attack, giving to Victor's
infantry and the cavalry of Murat, king of Naples, the task of
overwhelming the isolated Austrians. The centre, aided by the defences
of the Dresden suburbs, could hold its own, as the events of the 26th
had shown, the left, now under Ney, with whom served Kellermann's
cavalry and the Young Guard, was to attack Wittgenstein's Russians on
the Pirna road. Thus, for once, Napoleon decided to attack both flanks
of the enemy. His motives in so doing have been much discussed by the
critics; Vandamme's movements, it may be suggested, contributed to the
French emperor's plan, which if carried out would open the Pirna road.
Still, the left attack may have had a purely tactical object, for in
that quarter was the main body of the Prussians and Russians, and
Napoleon's method was always to concentrate the fury of the attack on
the heaviest masses of the enemy, i.e. the best target for his own
artillery. A very heavy rainstorm during the night seriously affected
the movements of troops on the following day, but all to Napoleon's
advantage, for his more mobile artillery, reinforced by every horse
available in and about Dresden, was still able to move where the Allied
guns sank in mud. Further, if the cavalry had to walk, or at most trot,
through the fields the opposing infantry was almost always unable to
fire their muskets. "You cannot fire; surrender," said Murat to an
Austrian battalion in the battle. "Never," they replied; "you cannot
charge us." On the appearance of Murat's horse artillery, however, they
had to surrender at once. Under such conditions, Metzko, unsupported
either by Klenau or the main army beyond the ravine, was an easy victim.
Victor from Löbda drove in the advanced posts and assaulted the line of
villages Wolfnitz-Töltschen; Metzko had to retire to the higher ground
S.W. of the first line, and Murat, with an overwhelming cavalry force
from Cotta and Burgstädl, outflanked his left, broke up whole
battalions, and finally, with the assistance of the renewed frontal
attack of Victor's infantry, annihilated the division. The Austrian
corps of Gyulai arrived too late to save it. A few formed bodies escaped
across the ravine, but Metzko and three-fourths of his men were killed
or taken prisoners.

Meanwhile Ney on the other flank, with his left on the Pillnitz road and
his right on the Grosser Garten, had opened his attack. The Russians
offered a strenuous resistance, defending Seidnitz, Gross Döbritz and
Reick with their usual steadiness, and Ney was so far advanced that
several generals at the Allied headquarters suggested a counter-attack
of the centre by way of Strehlen, so as to cut off the French left from
Dresden. This plan was adopted, but, owing to various misunderstandings,
failed of execution. Thus the Allied centre remained inactive all day,
cannonaded by the Dresden redoubts. One incident only, but that of great
importance, took place here. The tsar, the king of Prussia,
Schwarzenberg and a very large headquarter staff watched the fighting
from a hill near Räcknitz and offered an easy mark to the French guns.
In default of formed bodies to fire at, the latter had for a moment
ceased fire; Napoleon, riding by, half carelessly told them to reopen,
and one of their first shots, directed at 2000 yards range against the
mass of officers on the sky-line, mortally wounded General Moreau, who
was standing by the emperor Alexander. A council of war followed. The
Allied sovereigns were for continuing the fight; Schwarzenberg, however,
knowing the exhaustion of his troops decided to retreat. As at Bautzen,
the French cavalry was unable to make any effective pursuit.

The forces engaged were 96,000 French, Saxons, &c., and 200,000
Austrians, Russians and Prussians. The French losses were about 10,000,
or a little over 10%, those of the Allies 38,000 killed, wounded and
prisoners (the latter 23,000) or 19%. They lost also 15 colours and 26
guns.



DRESS (from the Fr. _dresser_, to set out, arrange, formed from Lat.
_directus_, arranged, _dirigere_, to direct, arrange), a substantive of
which the current meaning is that of clothing or costume in general, or,
specifically, the principal outer garment worn by a woman (see COSTUME).
The verb "to dress" has various applications which can be deduced from
its original meaning. It is thus used not only of the putting on of
clothing, but of the preparing and finishing of leather, the preparation
of food for eating, the application of cleansing and healing substances
or of bandages, &c., to a wound, the drawing up in a correct line of a
body of troops, and, generally, adorning or decking out, as of a ship
with flags. In the language of the theatre the "dresser" is the person
who looks after the actor's wardrobe and assists him in the changing of
his costumes. For the printer's use of "dresser" see TYPOGRAPHY.



DRESSER, in furniture, a form of sideboard. The name is derived from the
Fr. _dressoir_, a piece of furniture used to range or _dresser_ the more
costly appointments of the table. The appliance is the direct descendant
of the credence and the buffet, and is, indeed, a much more legitimate
inheritor of their functions than the modern sideboard, which, as we
know it, is practically an 18th-century invention. It developed into its
present shape about the second quarter of the 17th century, and has
since then changed but little. As a piece of movable furniture it was
made rarely, if at all, after the beginning of the 19th century until
the revival of interest in what is called "farmhouse furniture" at the
very beginning of the 20th century led in the first place to the
construction of many imitation antique dressers from derelict pieces of
old oak, and especially from panels of chests, and in the second to the
making of avowed imitations. The dresser conformed to a model which
varied only in detail and in ornament. Its simple and agreeable form
consisted of a long and rather narrow table or slab, with drawers or
cupboards beneath and a tall upright closed-in back arranged with a
varying number of shallow shelves for the reception of plates; hooks for
mugs were often fixed upon the face of these shelves. Towards the end of
the 17th century small cupboards were often added to the superstructure.
The majority of these dressers were made of oak, but when, early in the
Georgian period mahogany came into general use, they were frequently
inlaid with that wood; holly and box were also used for inlaying, most
frequently in the shape of plain bands or lines. A peculiarly effective
combination of oak and mahogany is found in the dressers, as in other
"farmhouse furniture," made on the borders of Staffordshire and
Shropshire. The excellence of the work of this kind in that district and
in the country lying west of it may perhaps explain the expression
"Welsh dresser," which is now no more than a trade term, not necessarily
suggestive of the place of origin, and applied to all dressers of this
type. They are most frequently found in the houses of small yeomen and
substantial farmers, into which fashion penetrated slowly. The dresser
is now most familiar as necessary plenishing of the kitchen, in which it
is invariably a fixture. In form it is essentially identical with the
movable variety, but it is usually much larger, is made of deal or other
soft wood, and the superstructure has no back.



DREUX, a town of north-western France, capital of an arrondissement in
the department of Eure-et-Loir, 27 m. N.N.W. of Chartres by rail. Pop.
(1906) 8209. It is situated on the Blaise, which at this point divides
into several arms. It is overlooked from the north by an eminence on
which stands a ruined medieval castle; within the enclosure of this
building is a gorgeous chapel, begun in 1816 by the dowager duchess of
Orleans, and completed and adorned at great cost by Louis Philippe. It
contains the tombs of the Orleans family, chief among them that of Louis
Philippe, whose remains were removed from England to Dreux in 1876. The
sculptures on the tombs and the stained glass of the chapel windows are
masterpieces of modern art. The older of the two hôtels-de-ville of
Dreux was built in the early 16th century, chiefly by Clément Métezau,
the founder of a famous family of architects, natives of the town. It is
notable both for the graceful carvings of the façade and for the fine
staircase and architectural details of the interior. The church of St
Pierre, which is Gothic in style, contains good stained glass and other
works of art. The town has a statue of the poet Jean de Rotrou, born
there in 1609. Dreux is the seat of a subprefect. Among the public
institutions are tribunals of first instance and of commerce, and a
communal college. The manufacture of boots and shoes, metal-founding and
tanning, are carried on, and there is trade in wheat and other
agricultural products and poultry.

Dreux was the capital of the Gallic tribe of the _Durocasses_. In 1188
it was taken and burnt by the English; and in 1562 Gaspard de Coligny,
and Louis I., prince of Condé, were defeated in its vicinity by Anne de
Montmorency and Francis, duke of Guise. In 1593 Henry IV. captured the
town after a fortnight's siege. It was occupied by the Germans on the
9th of October 1870, was subsequently evacuated, and was again taken, on
the 17th of November, by General Von Tresckow. In the 10th century Dreux
was the chief town of a countship, which Odo, count of Chartres, ceded
to king Robert, and Louis VI. gave to his son Robert, whose grandson
Peter of Dreux, younger brother of Count Robert III., became duke of
Brittany by his marriage with Alix, daughter of Constance of Brittany by
her second husband Guy of Thouars. By the marriage of the countess
Jeanne II. with Louis, viscount of Thouars (d. 1370), the Capetian
countship of Dreux passed into the Thouars family. In 1377 and 1378,
however, two of the three co-heiresses of Jeanne, Perronelle and
Marguerite, sold their shares of the countship to King Charles V.
Charles VI. gave it to Arnaud Amanien d'Albret, but took it back in
order to give it to his brother Louis of Orleans (1407); later he gave
it back to the lords of Albret. Francis of Cleves laid claim to it in
the 16th century as heir of the d'Albrets of Orval, but the parlement of
Paris declared the countship to be crown property. It was given to
Catherine de' Medici (1539), then to Francis, duke of Alençon (1569); it
was pledged to Charles de Bourbon, count of Soissons, and through him
passed to the houses of Orleans, Vendôme and Condé.



DREW, the name of a family of American actors. JOHN DREW (1827-1862) was
born in Dublin and made his first New York appearance in 1846. He played
Irish and light comedy parts with success in all the American cities,
and was manager of the Arch Street theatre in Philadelphia. He visited
England in 1855, and Australia in 1859, and died in Philadelphia. His
wife, LOUISE LANE DREW (1820-1897), was the daughter of a London actor,
and in 1827 went to America, appearing as the Duke of York to the elder
Booth's Richard III., and as Albert to Edwin Forrest's William Tell.
After this she starred as a child actress, and then as leading lady. She
had been twice married before she became Mrs Drew in 1850. From 1861 to
1892 she had the management of the Arch Street theatre in Philadelphia.
In 1880 she toured with Joseph Jefferson in his elaborate revival of
_The Rivals_, playing Mrs Malaprop to perfection. She had three
children, John, Sidney and Georgiana, wife of Maurice Barrymore
(1847-1905), and mother of Lionel and Ethel Barrymore, all actors. The
eldest son, JOHN DREW (b. 1853), began his stage career under his
mother's management in Philadelphia as Plumper in _Cool as a Cucumber_,
on the 22nd of March 1873; and after playing with Edwin Booth and
others, became leading man in Augustin Daly's company in 1879. His
association with this company, and with Ada Rehan as the leading lady,
constituted a brilliant period in recent stage history, his Petruchio
being only one, though perhaps the most striking, of a series of famous
impersonations. In 1892 he left Daly's company, and began a career as a
"star."



DREW, SAMUEL (1765-1833), English theologian, was born in the parish of
St Austell, in Cornwall, on the 6th of March 1765. His father was a poor
farm labourer, and could not afford to send him to school long enough
even to learn to read and write. At ten he was apprenticed to a
shoemaker, and at twenty he settled in the town of St Austell, first as
manager for a shoemaker, and in 1787 began business on his own account.
He had already gained a reputation in his narrow circle as a keen
debater and a jovial companion, and it is said that he had several
smuggling adventures. He was first aroused to serious thought in 1785 by
a funeral sermon preached over his elder brother by Adam Clarke. He
joined the Methodists, was soon employed as a class leader and local
preacher, and continued to preach till a few months before his death.
His opportunities of gaining knowledge were very scanty, but he
strenuously set himself to make the most of them. It is stated that an
accidental introduction to Locke's great essay determined the ultimate
direction of his studies. In 1798 the first part of Thomas Paine's _Age
of Reason_ was put into his hands; and in the following year he made his
first appearance as an author by publishing his _Remarks_ on that work.
The book was favourably received, and was republished in 1820. Drew had
begun to meditate a greater attempt before he wrote his _Remarks on
Paine_; and, encouraged by the antiquary John Whitaker, he published his
_Essay on the Immateriality and Immortality of the Soul_ in 1802. This
work made the "Cornish metaphysician," as he was called, widely known,
and for some time it held a high place in the judgment of the religious
world as a conclusive argument on its subject. A fifth edition appeared
in 1831. Drew continued to work at his trade till 1805, when he entered
into an engagement with Dr Thomas Coke, a prominent Wesleyan official,
which enabled him to devote himself entirely to literature. In 1809 he
published his _Essay on the Identity and General Resurrection of the
Human Body_, perhaps the most original of his works, which reached a
second edition in 1822. In 1814 he completed a history of Cornwall begun
by F. Hitchins. In 1819 he removed to Liverpool, being appointed editor
of the _Imperial Magazine_, then newly established, and in 1821 to
London, the business being then transferred to the capital. Here he
filled the post of editor till his death, and had also the supervision
of all works issued from the Caxton Press. He was an unsuccessful
competitor for the Burnett prize offered in 1811 for an essay on the
existence and attributes of God. The work which he then wrote, and which
in his own judgment was his best, was published in 1820, under the title
of _An Attempt to demonstrate from Reason and Revelation the Necessary
Existence, Essential Perfections, and Superintending Providence of an
Eternal Being, who is the Creator, the Supporter, and the Governor of
all Things_ (2 vols. 8 vo). This procured him the degree of M.A. from
the university of Aberdeen. Among Drew's lesser writings are a _Life of
Dr Thomas Coke_ (1817), and a work on the deity of Christ (1813). He
died at Helston in Cornwall on the 29th of March 1833. He was a man of
strong mind, honourable spirit and affectionate disposition, energetic
both in speech and in writing.

  A memoir of his life by his eldest son appeared in 1834.



DREWENZ, a river of Germany, a right-bank tributary of the Vistula. It
rises on the plateau of Hohenstein in East Prussia, 5 m. S.W. of the
town of Hohenstein. After passing through the lake of Drewenz (7 m.
long), it flows S.W. through flat marshy country, and forms, from just
below the town of Strassburg to that of Leibitsch, a distance of 30 m.,
the frontier between Prussia and Russian Poland. After a course of 148
m. it enters the Vistula from the right, a little above the fortress of
Thorn. It is navigable only for rafts. Lake Drewenz is connected with
Elbing (and so with the Baltic) by the navigable Elbing-Oberland Canal.



DREXEL, ANTHONY JOSEPH (1826-1893), American banker, was born in
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, on the 13th of September 1826. He was the
son of Francis M. Drexel (1792-1863), a native of Austrian Tirol, who
emigrated to America in 1817, and, after some years spent as a
portrait-painter, became a banker and the founder of the house of Drexel
& Company. Anthony, who entered his father's counting-house in 1839,
eventually, with his brothers Francis and Joseph, succeeded to the
control of the business, and organized the banking houses of Drexel,
Morgan & Company, New York, of which his brother Joseph W. (1833-1888)
was long the resident head, and of Drexel, Harjes & Company, Paris. In
1864 he joined his friend George W. Childs in the purchase of the
Philadelphia _Public Ledger_, and with him in 1892 founded the Printers'
Home for union men at Colorado Springs. In 1891 he founded, and endowed
with $2,000,000, the Drexel Institute of Art, Science and Industry in
Philadelphia, the buildings for which he constructed at a cost of
$750,000. This institution provides technical instruction for both night
and day classes and public lecture courses, and has a good museum and a
library of 35,000 volumes. Drexel died at Carlsbad, Germany, on the 30th
of June 1893.



DREYFUS, ALFRED (1859-   ), French soldier, of Jewish parentage, the
scandal of whose condemnation for treason and subsequent rehabilitation
convulsed French political life between 1894 and 1899, and only ended in
1906, was born in Mülhausen, Upper Alsace, removing to Paris in 1874.
After going through the usual course of military instruction with
credit, he became a sous-lieutenant in the artillery in 1882, and was
promoted captain in 1889; and, after passing through the _École de
Guerre_ with distinction, he was appointed to the general staff. His
name was, however, unknown to the general public till he was arrested on
the 15th of October 1894 on a charge of selling military secrets to
Germany, condemned, publicly degraded (January 4, 1895), and transported
(March 10) to the Ile du Diable, French Guiana. The story of the
subsequent proceedings in this celebrated case is told in the article
ANTI-SEMITISM, and need not here be repeated. It was not till 1899 that
the unfortunate prisoner was brought back to France for retrial by
court-martial, and even then, so strong was the anti-Semitic and
military prejudice, he was again found guilty "with extenuating
circumstances" at Rennes (September 9), though ten days later he was
"pardoned" by President Loubet. It was not till the Cour de Cassation
ordered a further investigation, and on the 12th of July 1906 decided
that his conviction had been based on a forgery and that Dreyfus was
innocent, that the agitation came to a final conclusion. He was then
restored to his rank in the army and promoted major. But the
anti-Semitic and anti-Dreyfusard spirit in certain French circles could
not easily be quelled even then; and on the occasion of the translation
of the remains of Emile Zola (Dreyfus's determined champion) to the
Pantheon on the 4th of June 1908, Major Dreyfus was shot at and wounded
by a fanatical journalist named Gregori, who was subsequently acquitted
by a Paris jury of the charge of attempted murder, his own plea being
that he had merely intended a "demonstration."

  See Dreyfus's own _Five Years of my Life_ (1901), and literature cited
  under ANTI-SEMITISM.



DRIBURG, a town and spa of Germany, in Prussian Westphalia, pleasantly
situated on the Aa and the railway Soest-Höxter-Berlin. Pop. 2600. It
has an Evangelical and a Roman Catholic church and some glass
manufactures. It is celebrated for its saline-ferruginous springs,
discovered in 766, and since 1779 largely frequented in summer. In the
vicinity are the ruins of Iburg, a castle destroyed by Charlemagne in
775, and bestowed by him upon the bishopric of Paderborn.



DRIFFIELD (officially Great Driffield), a market town in the Buckrose
parliamentary division of the East Riding of Yorkshire, England, 19½ m.
N. by W. from Hull, the junction of several branch lines of the North
Eastern railway. Pop. of urban district (1901) 5766. It is pleasantly
situated at the foot of the Wolds, and is connected with Hull by a
navigable canal. The church of All Saints is of various dates from
Norman onwards. The town is the centre of a rich agricultural district,
and large markets and fairs are held. There are works for the
manufacture of oil-cake. Driffield is of high antiquity, and numerous
tumuli are seen in the vicinity, while there is an excellent private
antiquarian museum in the town.



DRIFT (from "drive"), a verb or noun used in various connexions with the
sense of propelled motion, especially (but not necessarily) of an
aimless sort, undirected. Thus it is possible to speak of a snow-drift,
an accumulation driven by the wind; of a ship drifting out of its
course; of the drift of a speech, i.e. its general tendency. The word is
also used in some technical senses, more immediately resulting from the
action of driving something in. But the most important technical use of
the word is in geology, as introduced by C. Lyell in 1840 in place of
"Diluvium." The earlier geologists had been in the habit of dividing the
Quaternary deposits into an older Diluvium and a younger Alluvium; the
latter is still employed in England, but the former has dropped out of
use, though it is still retained by some continental writers. The
Alluvium was distinguished from Diluvium by the fact that its mammalian
fossils were representatives of still living forms, but it is a matter
of great difficulty to separate these two divisions in practice. "The
term drift is now applied generally to the Quaternary deposits, which
consist for the most part of gravel, sand, loam or brickearth and clay;
it naturally refers to strata laid down at some distance from the rocks
to whose destruction they are largely due; but, although applied to
river deposits, the word drift is more appropriately used in reference
to the accumulations of the Glacial period.

"The occurrence of stones and boulders far removed from their parent
source early attracted the attention of geologists, but for a long
period the phenomena, now known as of glacial origin, were unexplained,
and the drifts were looked upon as little more than 'extraneous
rubbish,' the product of geological agents, quite distinct from those
which helped to form the more 'solid' rocks that underlie them." (See H.
B. Woodward, _The Geology of England and Wales_, 2nd ed., 1887.) The
conception of an underlying "solid" geological structure covered by a
superficial mantle of "drift" is still retained for certain practical
purposes; thus, the Geological Survey of Great Britain issues many of
the maps in two forms, the "Solid Edition," showing the "solid geology,"
which embraces all igneous rocks and the stratified rocks older than
Pleistocene, and the "Drift Edition," which shows only such older strata
as are unobscured by drift.

In writing and in conversation the geological expression "drift" is now
usually understood to mean Glacial drift, including boulder clay and all
the varieties of sand, gravel and clay deposits formed by the agency of
ice sheets, glaciers and icebergs. But in the "Drift" maps many other
types of deposit are indicated, such, for instance, as the ordinary
modern alluvium of rivers, and the older river terraces (River-drift of
various ages), including gravels, brickearth and loam; old raised sea
beaches and blown-sand (Aeolian-drift); the "Head" of Cornwall and
Devon, an angular detritus consisting of stones with clay or loam;
clay-with-flints, rainwash (landwash), scree and talus; the "Warp," a
marine and estuarine silt and clay of the Humber; and also beds of peat
and diatomite.

  See GLACIAL PERIOD; PLEISTOCENE; BOULDER CLAY. (J. A. H.)



DRILL. (1) A tool for boring or making holes in hard substances, such as
stone, metal, &c. (an adaptation in the 17th century from the Dutch
_dril_ or _drille_, from _drillen_, to turn, bore a hole; according to
the New English Dictionary the word is not to be connected with the
English "thrill"). The word _drillen_ was used in Dutch, German and
Danish, from the 17th century for training in military exercises and was
adopted into English in the same sense. The origin of the application
seems to be in the primary sense of "to turn round," from the turning of
the troops in their evolutions and from the turning of the weapons in
the soldiers' hands. Drill is, formally, the preparation of soldiers for
their duties in war by the practice or rehearsal of movements in
military order and the handling of arms, and, psychologically, the
method of producing in the individual soldier habits of self-control and
of mechanically precise actions under disturbing conditions, and of
rendering the common instinctive will of a body of men, large or small,
amenable to the control of, and susceptible to a stimulus imparted by
its commander's will.

(2) A furrow made in the soil in which seed may be sown, and a machine
used for sowing seed in such furrows (see SOWING). The word is somewhat
doubtful in origin. It may be the same as an obsolete word "drill," to
trickle, flow in drops, also a small stream or flow of water, a rill,
and is possibly an altered form of "trill."

(3) In zoology, the native name of a large short-tailed west African
baboon, _Papio leucophaeus_, closely allied to the mandrill (q.v.), but
distinguished by the absence of brilliant blue and scarlet on the jaws
of the fully adult males.

[Illustration]

(4) The name of a fabric made in both linen and cotton, and commonly
bleached and finished stiff. The word is a shortened form of "drilling,"
from the German _drillich_, or "three-threaded," and is so named because
the weave originally used in its construction is what is termed the
three-leaf twill, nine repeats of which appear in the accompanying
figure, while immediately below the design is an intersection of all the
nine threads with the first pick. It is essentially a warp-faced fabric;
that is, the upper surface is composed mostly of warp threads. In the
figure it will be seen that two out of every three threads appear on the
surface, and, by introducing a greater number of threads per inch than
picks per inch, the weft is made to occupy a still more subordinate
position so far as the upper surface of the cloth is concerned. Although
the weave shown is still extensively used in this branch, there are
others, e.g. the 4-thread and the 5-thread weaves, which are employed
for the production of this cloth. Large quantities of drill are shipped
to the Eastern markets and to other sub-tropical centres, from which it
is sold for clothing. In temperate climates it forms a satisfactory
material for ladies' and children's summer clothing, and it is used by
chefs, hairdressers, provision merchants, grocers, buttermen, painters
and decorators, &c., while many of the long jackets or overalls, such as
those worn by many mill and factory managers, are made from the same
material.



DRINKING VESSELS.[1] The use of special vessels for drinking purposes
may fairly be assumed to have had a natural origin and development. From
a practical point of view it would soon be found desirable to provide
vessels for liquids in addition to those serving to hold food. As in
many other commonplace details of modern life, we must turn to the
primitive races to understand how our present conditions were reached.
In almost all parts of the world many of the products of nature are
capable of serving such purposes, with little or no change at the hands
of man; in tropical and sub-tropical climates the coco-nut and the gourd
or calabash require but little change to adapt them as the most
convenient of drinking utensils; the eggs of the larger birds, such as
the ostrich or the emu, shells, like the nautilus and other univalves,
as well as the deeper bivalves, are equally convenient. Such natural
objects are in fact used by the uncivilized tribes of Africa, America
and Polynesia, as well as, in some cases, by the white races who have
intruded into those parts of the world, and adopted some of the native
habits. In Paraguay, for example, the so-called "Paraguay tea," an
infusion of the _yerba maté_ (_Ilex paraguayensis_), is drunk through a
tube from a small gourd held in the hand, and often handsomely mounted
in silver or even gold. In the same way, as we shall see, civilized man
has adopted nearly all the natural forms that were found convenient by
the savage, altering and adorning them in accordance with the taste of
the time or country where they were used.

Another line of development, however, has been found to be the natural
outcome of the human mind. Nothing could form a more practical drinking
cup than the half of a coco-nut shell or part of a gourd. Such cups,
however, in the countries where the plants producing them are common,
would be easily obtained, and every one, rich or poor, could possess one
or more. In order, therefore, to distinguish the chief's possessions
from those of his inferiors, his cup is often made with great labour,
from some more intractable material, wood or stone, though in
practically the same form as that of the natural object.


  Early drinking cups.

Among European races in medieval times the same lines have been
followed, though for different reasons. Human ingenuity, though perhaps
originally inspired by natural forms, is apt to turn aside into more
artificial channels. The invention of the potter's art (see CERAMICS),
where the plastic nature of the raw material renders it capable of
infinite changes of form, gave rise to types of vessels having no
obvious or necessary relation to the productions of nature. In Britain
and in northern Europe generally, the interments of the races of the
Neolithic and Bronze Ages have furnished vessels of pottery of a
beaker-like form, to which the name of "drinking-cups" has been given.
It must be confessed that the evidence for attributing such a use to
them is slender, and mainly consists of the fact that their thin lips
would render them better adapted for the purpose than the other pottery
vessels found with them, some of which, on equally slight grounds, have
been called food vessels. The general use and acceptance of the term by
two generations of archaeologists is, however, an adequate reason for a
passing mention in this place. In the later prehistoric times of Europe
vessels of gold, bronze and other materials, including amber, were made,
sometimes of elegant forms, and would seem to have been used as drinking
vessels; still, this is again an assumption, though a fairly probable
one. A small gold cup with handle was found in a barrow at Rillaton,
Cornwall; one of amber of a similar form was found at Hove, and a third
of shale near Honiton. All of these doubtless may be referred to the
Bronze Age.


  New forms found by Schliemann.

Schliemann found many drinking vessels in his exploration of the
superimposed cities of Troy. A pretty form is that found in the first
city. It is of clay, and closely resembles an early Victorian tea cup on
a high foot. This form is of interest, as Schliemann discovered the same
both at Tiryns and Mycenae, five from the latter site being of gold,
while the type also occurs from Ialysus in Rhodes in association with
bronze swords. This Trojan cup was found at a depth of 50 ft. below the
present surface and about 18 ft. below the stratum of what Schliemann
claimed to be the Homeric Troy. In his second city appears a different
type of ware, somewhat fantastic in form, one vessel being in the form
of a sow, while others foreshadow the _crater_ and _amphora_ of later
and more familiar Greek wares.

But the drinking vessel to which Schliemann draws most attention is the
tall cup of a trumpet form furnished with two earlike loop handles. This
curious and original type occurs also in the Third (or Homeric), Fourth
and Sixth Cities, with little if any change. Schliemann devotes some
pages to the discussion of the form, in which he sees the [Greek: depas
amphikypellon][2] of Homer, which has been more usually understood to
mean an hour-glass shaped cup, in which the distinguishing feature was
two cups, not two handles. He applies the same term to a drinking vessel
of a very different form, found with several others in the Third City.
This is a sauce-boat shaped vessel[3] of gold, made with a lip for
pouring or drinking at either end, and with two loop handles. This
equals those previously mentioned in originality of form; with it were
found others of gold, silver and electrum (i.e. 4 parts of gold to 1 of
silver). Of these three were shaped like 18th-century coffee cups but
wanting handles. In the Sixth City appear forms more nearly approaching
those of later times, particularly prototypes of the _cantharus_ and
_scyphus_.

These discoveries in the various strata of Troy may be taken as the
analogues in the Mediterranean and hither Asia of the later Stone and
Bronze Ages of northern Europe, with an allowance of some centuries of
greater antiquity for the former.

It is not proposed in this article to deal with the ceramic and metallic
drinking vessels of the Greeks and Romans, of what is generally known as
the classical period (see CERAMICS and PLATE). It may be mentioned,
however, that both on the Rhine and in various places in Britain,
notably at Castor in Northamptonshire and in the New Forest, were
factories where large numbers of _pocula_ or drinking cups were made;
those made on the Rhine and at Castor bearing legends to indicate their
use. Many of these are to be seen in the British Museum and in the
Wallraf-Richartz Museum in Cologne.


  Gothic and Scandinavian types.

After the decline of Roman power, the Gothic and Scandinavian races who
replaced the Romans in central and northern Europe brought with them
their own forms and types of drinking vessels. These, from about the 4th
century, replaced the well-known Roman vessels. The northern barbarians
were as great drinkers as fighters, and their literature recites with
equal zest the richness of their drinking cups as the power and deadly
qualities of their arms. Fortunately the practice of burying with the
dead warrior all his property, or at least as much of it as he would be
supposed to need, has preserved to our day the actual vessels in use by
the pagan northmen who pervaded northern Europe from the 4th century
onward. Saxon graves in Britain have furnished great numbers of drinking
cups and horns, in many cases quite unbroken. From the remains, of which
the chief series are in the British and Liverpool Museums, we can learn
a great deal to amplify the references in literature. The richest single
interment that has yet been found was within the present churchyard at
Taplow. Here under a huge mound lay buried a Saxon chieftain surrounded
by his belongings; arms defensive and offensive, his drinking cups, and
even his game of draughts. The drinking vessels consisted of five cows'
horns and four glass cups. The former were of great size, 2 ft. long,
richly mounted at the mouth and at the point with silver bands embossed
and gilt. The glasses also were of great size and of a type familiar in
Saxon interments. Each was of a trumpet shape, with a small foot, while
the sides were ornamented with hollow pointed tubes bent downwards, and
open on the inner side, so that the liquid would fill them. Such a plan
is most unpractical, and it must have been very difficult to keep the
vessels clean. Glasses of this uncommon form have not been found
elsewhere than in Saxon graves, either in England or in the north of the
continent. Other types are perhaps nearly as characteristic, though of
simpler construction. One of these is a simple cone of glass, sometimes
quite plain, at others ornamented with an applied spiral glass thread,
or more rarely with festoons of white glass embedded in the body of the
vessel. A third form is a plain cup or bowl widely expanded at the mouth
and with a rounded base, so that it could only be set down when empty,
in fact a true "tumbler." This feature is in fact a very common one in
the drinking vessels of the Saxon race. There are many other varieties,
plain cylindrical goblets, generally with ornamental glass threads on
the outside, and a more usual type has a rounded body somewhat of the
shape of an orange with a wide plain mouth. Many of all these classes
were found in the famous cemetery known as the King's Field at Faversham
in Kent (the relics from which are now in the British Museum), at
Chessel Down in the Isle of Wight, and in the cemetery within the
ancient camp on High Down, near Worthing. In Belgium, France and Germany
the same types occur, and even as far north as Scandinavia, where they
are found in association with Roman coins of the 4th century. On the
continent, however, additional types are found that do not occur in
Britain--one of these is a drinking glass in the form of a hunting horn
with glass threads forming an ornamental design on the outside. From the
wide distribution of these types, it seems certain that they sprang
originally from a common centre, and the slender evidence available on
the subject seems to point to that centre having been somewhere on the
lower Rhine. Although glass seems to have been popular and by no means
rare as a material for drinking vessels, other materials also were used.
A large number of the smaller pottery vessels would serve such a
purpose, and in one grave at Broomfield in Essex two small wooden cups
were found which, from their small size and thinness, were no doubt used
for liquid.

Of the later Saxon domestic utensils nothing remains, the habit of
burying such objects with the dead having ceased on the gradual
introduction of Christianity through the country. Manuscripts are our
only resource, and they are not only of great rarity, but in the main
rudely and conventionally drawn in their details. In those of the 9th to
the 11th century various simple forms are seen, some resembling our
modern tumbler in shape, others like a dice box. Horns as drinking
vessels certainly retained their popularity at all times, surviving
especially among the northern nations, and many of the vessels of this
form were no doubt actual horns, though horn-shaped vessels were often
made of other materials. Until we come to the 13th and 14th centuries
there is an absolute dearth of the actual objects used in domestic life.
And here we begin with plate used in the service of the church.


  Church vessels.

The drinking vessel possessing the most unbroken history is doubtless
the chalice of the Christian Church.[4] Like other ceremonial objects it
was no doubt differentiated from the drinking cups in ordinary use by a
gradual transition, and in the early centuries it is unlikely that it
differed either in form or material from the ordinary domestic vessel of
the time. Figures of such vessels, apparently with a symbolic intention,
are found upon early Christian tombstones, and it has been contended
that the vessel indicated the grave of a priest. While this may be the
case, the similarity of the vessel represented to the ordinary
non-liturgical form renders the conclusion somewhat weak. Among objects
found under conditions which lend colour to their specific use as
chalices are the bottoms of glass vessels found inserted in plaster in
the Catacombs at Rome; but here again the Jesuit Padre Garrucci was
unable to find any evidence to support such a conclusion. It is not in
fact until the 6th century that the sacred vessel would appear to have
assumed a definite form. From about that time date the lost golden
chalices of Monza, representations of which still exist in that city;
and the famous chalice of Gourdon in the Bibliothèque Nationale in Paris
is probably of about the same time. All of these are two-handled with a
vase-shaped body and supported on a high foot; and thus quite unlike the
more recent medieval types. Two glass vases of exactly this two-handled
form are in the Slade collection at the British Museum, and may well
have been chalices. Another chalice, in the same collection, of the 6th
or 7th century, was found with a silver treasure at Lampsacus on the
Hellespont. It is of silver, with a cylindrical body and small expanding
foot; with it were found a number of silver spoons and dishes, the
former inscribed with the names of Apostles, Greek hexameters and lines
from Virgil's Eclogues. No doubt the whole was the treasure of a
monastery, buried and never reclaimed. So far as evidence exists for the
form of the chalice, the vase-shape with two handles seems to have been
mainly succeeded by a goblet with straight sides and without handles;
these latter in great part disappeared. Then came the rounded cup-shaped
bowl as seen in the well-known Kremsmünster chalice. An interesting
silver vessel, probably a chalice, found at Trewhiddle in Cornwall, is
in the British Museum. It is of plain semi-oviform shape, and dates from
the 9th century. The 13th century chalice was usually a broad somewhat
shallow cup, on a conical base, and squat in its general lines as
compared with those of later date. These gradually became taller, and
with a bowl smaller in proportion, following the tendency of the civil
vessels towards more elegant lines. Both civil and religious vessels
eventually carried this tendency to an extreme point, so that in the
17th century the continental chalices and standing cups had lost all
sense of true artistic proportions; the bowl of the chalice had greatly
shrunk in size while the foot had become huge and highly elaborate, both
in general form and in ornamental details. In Britain chalices ceased to
be used in the English church in the reign of Edward VI., and were
replaced by communion cups. These were much plainer in make, recalling
in their outlines the goblet form of about a thousand years earlier, the
sides of the bowl being concave, or nearly straight, as opposed to the
convexity of the chalice, while the paten was reversed over the mouth
and so arranged as to form a closely fitting cover. With the beginning
of the 17th century English communion cups again followed the civil
fashion in adapting the outline of the Venetian drinking glass, a shape
which has survived to our own days.

The materials of which chalices were made in the early centuries seem to
have been as various as those of ordinary vessels. Glass was undoubtedly
a favourite substance, perhaps from its lending itself readily to
scrupulous cleanliness; but wood, horn, ivory and similar materials were
undoubtedly in use, and were from time to time condemned as improper by
the Fathers of the Church. Pewter was in common use, and it was not an
unusual practice in the 12th and 13th centuries to place sacramental
vessels, of this or more precious metal, in the grave of an
ecclesiastic. Bronze was also used, and the Kremsmünster chalice is of
that metal, which was a favourite one in the Celtic church. But gold or
silver chalices were no doubt always preferred when they could be
obtained.

It may be mentioned here that it was a common practice in the 16th
century and later in England for laymen to make gifts to the church of
vessels of an entirely domestic character for use in the service. Many
of these from their associations, and in the character of the designs
upon them, were entirely unsuited for such purposes, and in our own
time, when a healthy desire has sprung up for the proper investigation
of such matters, many such unsuitable vessels have been withdrawn from
use. Domestic plate, however, being much more highly appreciated by
collectors, there has been a regrettable tendency on the part of the
holders of such pieces to sell them to the highest bidders; the tendency
is to be deplored, for while they remain the property of the church,
they are a national asset; if sold by auction, there is a great
probability of their going abroad.


  Medieval vessels for common uses.

  Mazers.

It would seem fairly certain that the ordinary drinking vessel of
medieval times was, like the trenchers of wood, turned on the lathe. Of
these the commoner varieties have entirely disappeared, having become
useless from distortion or other damage. Such as have come down to our
own time owe their preservation to the added refinement of a silver
mount. Vessels of this kind are known as _mazer_ bowls, a word of
uncertain origin, but undoubtedly, in the medieval sense, indicating
wood of some more or less valuable kind, and not improbably, in the 16th
century, maple or a wood of that appearance. Spenser in the "Shepherd's
Kalendar" speaks of "a mazer ywrought of the maple warre." Although such
vessels are mentioned in the inventories and other contemporary records
as far back as the 12th century, no example is known to exist of an
earlier date than the 14th century, of which date there are two in the
possession of Harbledown hospital. This type of drinking vessel was in
common use in well-to-do households until the 16th century, when a
change of fashion and the greater luxury and refinement dictated the
adoption of more elegant and complex forms. The ordinary mazer was a
shallow bowl (see PLATE, Plate II.) about 6 in. in diameter, with a
broad expanding rim of silver gilt often engraved with a motto in black
letter or Lombardic capitals, at times referring to the function of the
cup, such as:--

  "In the name of the Trinity
   Fille the Kup and drinke to me."

or,

  "Potum et nos benedicat Agios."

Within the bowl, in the centre is often found a circular medallion
called a "print" with some device upon it, engraved and filled with
enamel. The reason of this addition may conceivably be found in the fact
that such bowls were sometimes made from the lower half of a gourd or
calabash, in the centre of which would be a rough projection whence the
fibres of the fruit had diverged. A rarer form of mazer has the
characters just mentioned and in addition is mounted upon a high foot,
bringing it nearer to the category of standing cups or "hanaps." The
famous Scrope mazer belonging to York Minster (early 15th century)
stands upon three small feet. Of the hanap type examples are in the
possession of Pembroke College, Cambridge (the Foundress' Cup), and All
Souls' College, Oxford, the former an exceedingly fine specimen, of the
third quarter of the 15th century. The form dictated originally by the
simple wooden cup was at times carried out entirely in silver, or even
in stone, mazer-like cups being found either entirely in metal or with
the main portion made of serpentine or some other ornamental stone. An
example of the former from the Hamilton Palace collection, as well as
several ordinary mazers, are to be seen in the British Museum. The types
above described are of English origin, with the exception of that made
entirely of silver, which is thought to be French. Most of the
continental forms differed from the English, and were more elaborately
finished. One of the finest is that which belonged to Louis de Male,
last count of Flanders. It is an exceedingly thin, shallow bowl of
fine-grained wood, with a cover of the same make. The latter is
surmounted by a silver figure of a falcon holding a shield in its mouth
with the arms of the count. The foot is of silver with lozenge-shaped
panels inserted, bearing in enamel the arms of the count. A German form
of the 16th century consisted of a depressed sphere of wood for the
bowl, with a silver rim, and a cover formed of a similarly shaped
sphere, called in France a "creusequin." Such mazers were furnished in
addition with a short metal handle turned up at the end, a feature
unknown in the English types. All of these again are to be seen in the
British Museum series.


  Hanaps.

Although the use of wooden vessels more or less elaborately mounted was
continued well into the 16th century as a fashion, many other materials
of far greater value were in use among the wealthy long before that
time. Crystal, agate and other hard stones, ivory, Chinese porcelain, as
well as more ordinary wares, were all in use, as well as the precious
metals. The inventories of the 14th and 15th centuries are full of
entries showing that such precious cups were fairly common. Of gold cups
of any antiquity naturally but few remain; the intrinsic value of the
metal probably is a sufficient explanation. One of the most important in
existence is however preserved in the British Museum, viz. the royal
gold cup of the kings of England and France. It is of nearly pure gold
with a broad bowl and a high foot, the cover pyramidal. The whole is
ornamented with translucent enamels of the most perfect quality, and
with a little damage in one part, absolutely well preserved. The
subjects represented on it are scenes from the life of St Agnes, in two
rows, one on the cover and one outside the bowl; on the foot are the
symbols of the four Evangelists, and around the base a coronal of leaves
alternating with pearls; the cover originally had a similar adjunct, but
it has unfortunately been cut away. This is the only piece of royal
plate of the treasures of the kings of England and France that now
remains, and its history has been traced from the time it was made,
about the year 1380, to the present time. It was made by one of the
goldsmiths of the luxurious Duc de Berri, the brother of Charles V. of
France, no doubt to offer as a gift to the king, whose  birthday was
St Agnes' day. It was, however, never presented, probably owing to the
death of Charles V. in 1380. The duc de Berri was not on friendly terms
with his nephew Charles VI., but on their being reconciled he presented
the young king with this cup. The troubles of his reign led to the
invasion of France by Henry V. of England, and the ultimate appointment
of his brother, John, duke of Bedford, as regent. The necessities of the
half-insane Charles doubtless caused this cup and other valuables to
pass into the possession of the regent in exchange for ready money, for
it appears in the duke of Bedford's will, under which it passed into the
treasury of Henry VI. There it remained and appears in all subsequent
royal inventories up to the time of James I. This monarch, whose motto
was "Beati pacifici," received with joy the embassy sent from Spain in
the year 1610 to conclude the first treaty of peace with England since
the Armada, and showered upon the envoy, Don Juan de Velasco, constable
of Castile, the most lavish and extravagant gifts. The constable, in
fact, was so impressed by the warmth of his reception that he printed an
account of his embassy, and from this work the main story of the cup has
eventually been traced. On his return to Spain the constable, a piously
disposed man, presented this cup, with many other valuable gifts, to the
convent of Santa Clara Medina de Pomar at Burgos, of which his sister
was Superior. Although it was a domestic vessel, a "hanap" in fact, the
constable elected that it should be consecrated and made use of as a
chalice at great festivals. And so it continued to be used from the
early years of the 17th century until about the year 1882, when the
convent having fallen upon evil times, it was decided to sell this
precious relic. A priest from the Argentine being at the time in Burgos,
it was confided to him to sell in Paris, and he deposited the sum of
£100 by way of security. This was all that the unfortunate nuns at
Burgos ever received in return for their chalice, for they never saw the
priest again. He took the cup to Paris, arriving in the month of
September, when the majority of the well-to-do are away from town. After
many failures to dispose of it, he ultimately succeeded in selling it to
Baron Jerome Pichon for the sum of about £400, practically its weight in
gold. The baron, after vainly trying to resell it at various sums from
£20,000 downwards, eventually parted with it to Messrs Wertheimer of
Bond Street for £8000, and that firm very liberally ceded it to Sir
Wollaston Franks for the same sum, and it was finally secured by a
subscription for the British Museum.


Plate I.

[Illustration: FIG. 1.--ROMAN GLASS CUP. With representation of a
chariot race. Found at Colchester.]

[Illustration: FIG. 2.--TEUTONIC GLASS CUP. From a grave at Selzen,
Rhenish Hesse.]

[Illustration: FIG. 3.--SAXON GLASS "TUMBLER."]

[Illustration: FIG. 4.--FRANKISH GLASS DRINKING HORN. Bingerbrück.]

[Illustration: FIG. 5.--SAXON COW'S HORN. Mounted in silver. Taplow.]

[Illustration: FIG. 6.--SAXON TRUMPET-SHAPED DRINKING VESSEL. With
hollow tubular ornamentation.]

[Illustration: FIG. 7.--THE ROYAL GOLD ENAMELLED HANAP. Made about
1380.]

[Illustration: FIG. 8.--SARACENIC ENAMELLED GOBLET. With French silver
mountings. Fourteenth century.]


Plate II.

All the objects represented on these two plates are in the British
Museum.

[Illustration: FIG. 1.--VENETIAN GLASS GOBLET. With enamelled
decoration. Fifteenth century.]

[Illustration: FIG. 2.--ENGLISH "BLACKJACK." With initials of Charles I.
and date 1646.]

[Illustration: FIG. 3.--THE ROCHESTER MAZER. Presented by Brother Robert
Peacham. Sixteenth century.]

[Illustration: FIG. 4.--CHINESE CUP. Carved from rhinoceros horn.
Eighteenth century.]

[Illustration: FIG. 5.--ENGLISH GLASS TANKARD. Bearing the Arms of Lord
Burleigh.]

[Illustration: FIG. 6.--COCO-NUT CUP. German, about 1600.]

[Illustration: FIG. 7.--SWISS "TANZENMANN." Seventeenth century.]

[Illustration: FIG. 8.--A GLASS "YARD OF ALE" (English). Eighteenth
century.]

Such is the story of one of the most remarkable "hanaps" in existence.
The word "hanap" is translated by Cotgrave in his French dictionary of
1660 as "a drinking cup or goblet," and probably was intended to mean
what would be called a standing cup, that is, raised on a foot, to
distinguish it from a bowl of the mazer class. Such vessels were chiefly
used to ornament the dinner table or sideboard, in the way that
loving-cups are now used at civic banquets, where, almost alone in fact,
the ancient ceremonial of the table is still observed to some extent;
and the loving-cup is the direct descendant of the hanap of the middle
ages.


  Nefs.

Of all the ornaments of the table in medieval times the most conspicuous
was probably the "nef." This was in the form of a ship (_navis_), as its
name implies, and originally was designed to hold the table utensils of
the host--knives, napkins, and at times even the wine. Some of the later
examples which alone survive are carried out with the greatest
elaboration, the sails and rigging being carefully finished and with a
number of figures on the deck. The reason for the existence of such an
article of table furniture was doubtless the fear of poison. As in
course of time this became less, the nef changed its character, and
became either a mere ornament, or sometimes was capable of being used as
a drinking vessel. The former, however, was much more common, and the
number of nefs that can be practically used as drinking cups is small.


  16th-century types.

In the 15th and 16th centuries the shapes, decoration and materials of
drinking vessels were almost endless. A favourite object to be so
adapted was an ostrich egg, and many can be seen in museums in elaborate
silver mounts; coco-nuts were also used in the same way, and Chinese
and other Oriental wares then of great variety, were often turned into
cups and vases by ingeniously devised silver mounting. The use of
drinking vessels either formed of actual horns or of other materials was
common in the 15th and 16th centuries, especially in the north. They
were usually provided with feet so as to serve as standing cups, and
some of them were mounted with great richness. An excellent example is
the famous drinking-horn in the possession of Queen's College, Oxford,
dating from the 14th century. The medieval beliefs about "griffins'
claws" still survived to this late date, and a horn cup in the British
Museum bears the inscription "Ein Greifen Klau bin ich genannt, In Asia,
Africa wohl bekannt." Another horn, probably that of an ibex, is in the
same institution, and has a silver mount inscribed "Gryphi unguis divo
Cuthberto dunelmensi sacer." The elegant natural curve of the horn adds
greatly to the charm of the vessel. In Germany the ingenuity of the
silversmith was turned in the direction of making vessels in the forms
of animals, at times in allusion to the coat of arms of the patron.
Stags, lions, bears and various birds are often found; the head
generally removable so as to form a small cup Switzerland and south
Germany had a special type, in the form of the figure of a peasant,
generally in wood, carrying on his back a large basket, which edged with
silver formed the drinking cup. This type is only found in wine-growing
districts, the basket being used for carrying grapes. In Germany such
cups are called "Buttenmann," in Switzerland "Tanzenmann." The royal and
princely museums of Germany contain great numbers of such vessels, the
Green Vault in Dresden in particular, while a good number are to be seen
in our own great museums. A curious fancy, combining instruction with
conviviality, was to make cups in the form of a globe, terrestrial or
celestial, which are still useful as showing the state of geographical
or astronomical knowledge at the time. Several of those made in the 16th
century are still in existence, one in the British Museum, a second at
Nancy, and others are in Copenhagen and Zurich and in private
collections. The upper half of the globe is removable, leaving the lower
as the drinking cup. Ivory both from the beauty of its colour and the
evenness of its structure has been a favourite material for drinking
vessels at all times, and would seem to have been continuously used from
the earliest period, whether derived from Asia or Africa, while the
semi-fossil mammoth ivory of Siberia has not been neglected. In general,
however, the vessels made from this material presented no essential
differences of form from those in wood, until the art of lathe-turning
attained great perfection, when a wide field was opened for ingenuity
and even extravagance of form. The most remarkable examples of the
possibilities of this kind of mechanical skill are seen in the
productions of the Nuremberg turners of the 17th century, whose
elaborate and entirely useless _tours de force_ comprise among many
other things standing cups of ivory sometimes 2 ft. high, exemplifying
every eccentricity of which the lathe is capable. Peter Zick (d. 1632)
and his three sons were celebrated for such work. Several pieces,
doubtless from their hands, are in the British Museum.


  Glass cups.

The use of glass cups was not common in England until the 16th century,
Venice having practically the monopoly of the supply. A silver-mounted
glass goblet which belonged to the great Lord Burghley is, however, in
the British Museum, where there is also a very large series of Venetian
drinking glasses of various kinds, clear and lace glass as well as some
of the 15th-century goblets with enamelled designs, now of the greatest
rarity. The relations of Venice with the East were of so intimate a
character that the earlier forms of Venetian glasses were nearly
identical with those of the Mahommedan East.

A common type of Arab drinking glass resembled our modern tumbler (a
beaker), but gradually expanding in a curve towards the mouth, and often
enamelled. The enamelled designs were at times related to the purpose of
the vessel, figures drinking and the like, but more commonly bore either
a mark of ownership, such as the armorial device of an emir, or some
simple decorative design. This simple form probably has its origin in
the horn cup made from the base of a cow's horn and closed at the
smaller end. The later forms in the late 15th century and after,
followed the fashion in other materials, and were raised on a tall foot,
so that from the 16th century onwards the type of wine glass has hardly
changed, except in details. An interesting variety in one detail is seen
in the German fashion of providing an elaborate silver stand into which
the foot of such an ordinary-shaped glass was made to fit. Frequently,
as might be expected, such stands are found without glasses, and their
use then seems difficult to explain.

Another characteristic German type is the "wiederkom," a vessel more
conspicuous for capacity than for its artistic qualities. It is usually
a cylindrical vessel of green glass often holding as much as a quart,
elaborately enamelled with coats of arms and views of well-known places;
and at times when the cup was a wedding gift the figures of the bride
and bridegroom are seen upon it.

A very fanciful kind of cup was known in England as a "yard of ale," a
long tube of glass generally shaped like a coach horn, but ending
sometimes in three prongs as a trident, the opening in the latter being
at the end of the handle, which was about a yard in length.

Small silver cups were often made in dozens with various devices,
differing in each, such as the signs of the zodiac, the occupations of
the months, or figures of the classical gods and goddesses, engraved
upon them.

The tankard came into fashion in the 16th century, a practical, but
seldom graceful object. At first some attempt was made, by shaping the
sides, to attain to some artistic quality, but usually the tankard from
the late 16th century to the present time is found with straight sides,
either vertical or contracting towards the top, which is of course
always furnished with a hinged lid.


  17th and 18th century types.

A material that has one obvious merit, that of being practically
unbreakable, is leather, and drinking cups were often made of it. The
flagon called a "black jack" is the best-known, and examples are very
common, mostly of the 17th and 18th centuries. A quaint fashion was to
have a leather cup made in the form of a lady's shoe; this, however, was
confined to Germany and might be thought in somewhat questionable taste.

In the 17th and 18th centuries a great impetus was given to the
production of curious drinking vessels in pottery. In England at various
potting centres a great number of cups called "tygs" were made:
capacious mugs with several handles, three or four, round the sides, so
that the cup could be readily passed from one to the other. Many of
these have quaint devices and inscriptions upon them. Another favourite
plan is to make a jug with open-work round the neck and a variety of
spouts, one only communicating with the liquid. These "puzzle jugs" no
doubt caused a good deal of amusement when attempted by a novice, who
would inevitably spill some of the contents.

The horn of the rhinoceros is much favoured by the Chinese as a material
for drinking cups often of a somewhat archaic form. The dense structure
of the horn is well adapted for the purpose, and its beautiful amber hue
makes the vessel a very agreeable object to the eye. The usual form is
of a boat shape on a square foot, and the carved decoration is often
copied from that of the bronze vessels of the earlier dynasties. Others
are treated in a freer and more naturalistic manner, the bowl being
formed as the flower of the magnolia, and the entire horn, at times more
than 2 ft. in length, is utilized in carrying out the design. One of
this kind is in the Victoria and Albert Museum. Cups of the former type
are commonly found imitated in ivory-white porcelain, and are known as
"libation cups." Rhinoceros horn is held by the Chinese to be an
antidote against poison, a belief shared by other nations.


  Tea and coffee cups.

There is but little to be said about the vessels used in the drinking of
tea and coffee. In Europe the type has practically remained unchanged
since the introduction of tea and coffee drinking, except that in the
18th century the tea-cups imported from China had no handles, and were
generally thinner than the coffee cups. In Japan there is a ceremonious
way of drinking tea, known as _Cha no yu_. Here powdered green tea is
used; the party assembles in a small pavilion in a garden, and the tea
is made in accordance with a rigid etiquette. The infusion is stirred
with a whisk in a rudely fashioned bowl, holding about a pint, and
passed from one guest to another. The bowls are of very thick pottery,
never of porcelain, and the most valued kind is that made in Korea. In
the drinking of rice spirit (saké) in Japan small wide shallow cups are
used, made generally of porcelain, but sometimes of finely lacquered
wood. Both kinds are usually ornamented with elaborate and sometimes
allusive designs.


  Savage utensils.

Among savage races the most peculiar drinking ceremony is that of kava
drinking in Polynesia, principally in the Fijian, Tongan and Samoan
groups. The best description of the process is given in Mariner's
_Tonga_. The principal vessel is usually a large bowl, sometimes
measuring 2 or 3 ft. in diameter, cut from a solid block of wood. It has
four short legs and an ear at one side to which a rope of coco-nut fibre
is generally attached. The liquid is prepared in this bowl and ladled
out in small cups often made of coco-nut shells, and these are handed
round with great ceremony. Both the bowl and the cups become coated in
the inside with a highly polished layer, pale blue in colour; but this
beautiful tint fades when the vessel is out of use, and it is therefore
very rarely seen in specimens in Europe. The kava itself is prepared
from the root of a tree of the pepper family (_Piper methysticum_); the
root is cut into pieces of a convenient size, and these are given to
young men and women of the company, who masticate them, and the lumps
thus shredded are placed in the large bowl, water is poured over them,
and the mass is strained with great care by wringing it in strips of the
inner bark of the _hibiscus_. The liquor is slightly intoxicating.

If the Polynesian method of preparing kava as a drink is distasteful to
our ideas, the favourite drinking bowl of the old Tibetans is even more
so. Friar Odoric (14th century), quoted by Yule, describes how the
Tibetan youth "takes his father's head and straightway cooks and eats
it, and of the skull he makes a goblet from which he and all his family
always drink devoutly to the memory of the deceased father." This
recalls Livy's account of the Boii in Upper Italy, who made a drinking
vessel of the head of the Roman consul Postumus. Among the Tibetans
skulls are still used, but generally for libations only; for this
purpose great care is exercised in the selection of the skull, and the
"points" of a good skull are well understood by the Lamas.
     (C. H. RD.)


FOOTNOTES:

  [1] The verb "to drink" is Common Teut.; cf. Ger. _trinken_, &c.

  [2] See PLATE, Plate I.

  [3] See PLATE, Plate I.

  [4] For two illustrations see PLATE, Plate II.



DRIPSTONE, in architecture, a projecting moulding weathered on the upper
surface and throated underneath so as to form a drip. The term is more
correctly applied to a string course. When carried round an arch its
more correct description would be a hood (q.v.). When employed inside a
building it serves a decorative purpose only.



DRISLER, HENRY (1818-1897), American classical scholar, was born on the
27th of December 1818, on Staten Island, New York. He graduated at
Columbia College in 1839, taught classics in the Columbia grammar school
for four years, and was then appointed tutor in classics in the college.
In 1845 he became adjunct professor of Latin and Greek there, in 1857
was appointed to the new separate chair of Latin language and
literature, and ten years later succeeded Dr Charles Anthon as Jay
professor of Greek language and literature. He was acting president in
1867 and in 1888-1889, and from 1890 to his retirement as professor
emeritus in 1894 was dean of the school of arts. He died in New York
City on the 30th of November 1897. Dr Drisler completed and supplemented
Dr Anthon's labours as an editor of classical texts. His criticisms and
corrections of Liddell and Scott's _Greek-English Lexicon_, of which he
brought out a revised American edition in 1846, won his name a place on
the title-page of the British edition in 1879, and in 1870 he published
a revised and enlarged edition of Yonge's _English-Greek Lexicon_. He
was ardently opposed to slavery, and brilliantly refuted _The Bible View
of Slavery_, written by Bishop J. H. Hopkins of Vermont, in a _Reply_
(1863), which meets the bishop on purely Biblical ground and displays
the wide range of Dr Drisler's scholarship.



DRIVER, SAMUEL ROLLES (1846-   ), English divine and Hebrew scholar, was
born at Southampton on the 2nd of October 1846. He was educated at
Winchester and New College, Oxford, where he had a distinguished career,
taking a first class in Literae Humaniores in 1869. He was awarded the
Pusey and Ellerton scholarship in 1866, the Kennicott scholarship in
1870 (both Hebrew), and the Houghton Syriac prize in 1872. From 1870 he
was a fellow, and from 1875 also a tutor, of New College, and in 1883
succeeded Pusey as regius professor of Hebrew and canon of Christ
Church. He was a member of the Old Testament Revision Committee
(1876-1884) and examining chaplain to the bishop of Southwell
(1884-1904); received the honorary degrees of doctor of literature of
Dublin (1892), doctor of divinity of Glasgow (1901), doctor of
literature of Cambridge (1905); and was elected a fellow of the British
Academy in 1902. Dr Driver devoted his life to the study, both textual
and critical, of the Old Testament. Among his numerous works are
commentaries on Joel and Amos (1897); Deuteronomy (1902); Daniel (1901);
Genesis (1909); the Minor Prophets, Nahum to Malachi (1905); Job (1905);
Jeremiah (1906); Leviticus (1894 Hebrew text, 1898 trans. and notes);
Samuel (Hebrew text, 1890). Among his more general works are: _Treatise
on the Use of the Tenses in Hebrew_ (1892); _Isaiah, his Life and Times_
(1893); _Introd. to the Literature of the Old Test._ (1897, ed. 1909);
_Sermons on Subjects connected with the Old Testament_ (1892); _The
Parallel Psalter_ (1904); _Heb. and Eng. Lexicon of the O.T._ (in
collaboration, 1906); _Modern Research as illustrating the Bible_
(1909); articles in the _Ency. Brit._, _Ency. Bibl._ and Hastings'
_Dict. of the Bible_.



DRIVING (from "to drive," i.e. generally to propel, force along or in, a
word common in various forms to the Teutonic languages), a word used in
a restricted sense for the art of controlling and directing draught
animals from a coach or other conveyance or movable machine to which
they are harnessed for the purpose of traction. This has been an
occupation practised since domesticated animals were first put to this
use. In various parts of the world a number of different animals have
been, and still are, so employed; of these the horse, ox, mule and ass
are the most common, though their place is taken by the reindeer in
northern latitudes, and by the Eskimo dog in arctic and antarctic
regions. The driving of each of these requires special skill, only to be
acquired by practice combined with knowledge of the characteristics
peculiar to the several animals employed. The most accomplished driver
of spirited horses would probably be in difficulties if called upon to
drive sixteen or twenty dogs in an arctic sledge, or a team of oxen or
mules drawing the guns of a mountain battery; and the adept in either of
these branches of the art might provoke the compassion of a farmer from
Lincolnshire or Texas by his attempts to manage a pair of Clydesdale
horses in the plough or the reaping machine.

Under all these different conditions driving is a work of utility, of
economic value to civilized society. But from very early times driving,
especially of horses, has also been regarded as a sport or pastime. This
probably arose in the first instance from its association with battle.
In the earliest historical records, such as the Old Testament and the
Homeric poems, the driver of the chariot fills a place of importance in
the economy of war; and on his skill and efficiency the fate of kings,
and even of kingdoms, must often have depended. The statement in the
Book of Kings that Jehu the son of Nimshi was recognized from a distance
by his style of driving appears to indicate that the warrior himself on
occasion took the place of the professional charioteer; and although it
would be unsafe to infer from the story that the pleasure derived from
the occupation was his motive for doing so, the name of this king of
Israel has become the eponym of drivers. Among the Greeks at an equally
early period driving was a recognized form of sport, to the popularity
of which Horace afterwards made allusion. Racing between teams of horses
harnessed to war-chariots took the place occupied by saddle-horse
racing and American trotting races (see HORSE-RACING) in the sport of
modern times. The element of danger doubtless gave pleasurable
excitement to chariot racing and kept alive its association with
incidents familiar in war; just as at a later period, when the
institution of chivalry had given the armed knight on horseback a
conspicuous place in medieval warfare, the tournament became the most
popular sport of the aristocracy throughout Europe.

This element of danger cannot be said to enter usually into the
enjoyment of driving at the present day. Though accidents occasionally
happen, the pastime is practically unattended by serious risk; and the
source of the pleasure it affords the driver must be sought in the skill
it requires, combined with the love of the horse which is common to
sportsmen, and of exercise of power. The art of driving as practised
to-day for pleasure without profit, and without the excitement of
racing, is of quite modern development. Oliver Cromwell, indeed, met
with a mishap in Hyde Park while driving a team of four horses presented
to him by the count of Oldenburg, which was the subject of more than one
satirical allusion by contemporary royalist writers; but two things were
needed before much enjoyment could be found in driving apart from
utility. These were the invention of carriages on springs, and the
construction of roads with smooth and solid surface. The former did not
come into general use till near the end of the 18th century, and it was
about the same period that the engineering skill of Thomas Telford and
the invention of John London Macadam combined to provide the latter. The
influence on driving of these two developments was soon apparent.
Throughout the 18th century stage-coaches, ponderous unwieldy vehicles
without springs, had toiled slowly over rough and deeply rutted tracks
as a means of communication between different parts of Great Britain;
but those who made use of them did so as a matter of necessity and not
for enjoyment. But by the beginning of the 19th century the improvement
in carriage-building and road-construction alike had greatly diminished
the discomfort of travel; and interest in driving for its own sake grew
so rapidly that in 1807 the first association of amateur coachmen was
formed. This was the Bensington Driving Club, the forerunner of many
aristocratic clubs for gentlemen interested in driving as a pastime.

In modern driving one, two or four horses are usually employed. When a
greater number than four is put in harness, as in the case of the state
equipages of royal personages on occasions of ceremony, the horses are
not driven but are controlled by "postillions" mounted on the near-side
horse of each pair. When two horses are used they may either be placed
side by side, in "double harness," which is the commoner mode of driving
a pair of horses, or one following the other, in a "tandem." Four
horses, or "four-in-hand," are harnessed in two pairs, one following the
other, and called respectively the "leaders" and the "wheelers"--the
same terms being used for the two horses of a tandem.

Though it is a less difficult accomplishment to drive a single horse
than a tandem or four-in-hand, or even a pair, it nevertheless requires
both knowledge and the skill that practice alone confers. The driver
should have some knowledge of equine character, and complete familiarity
with every part of the harness he uses, and with the purpose which each
buckle or strap is intended to serve. The indefinable quality known in
horsemanship as "good hands" is scarcely less desirable on the box-seat
than in the saddle. It is often said to be unattainable by those who do
not possess it by nature; but though this may be true to some extent,
"good hands" are partly at least the result of learning the correct
position for the arm and hand that holds the reins. The reins are held
in the left hand, which should be kept at about the level of the lowest
button of the driver's waistcoat, and near the body though not pressed
against it. The driving hand should never be reached forward more than a
few inches, nor raised as high as the breast. The upper arm should lie
loosely against the side, the forearm horizontal across the front of the
body, forming a right angle or thereabouts at the elbow-joint, the
wrist very slightly bent inwards, and the back of the hand and knuckles
facing outwards towards the horses. In this position the three joints of
the arm form a kind of automatic spring that secures the "give" to the
movement of the horse's mouth which, in conjunction with firmness, is a
large part of what is meant by "good hands." But this result is only
obtained if the reins be also held with the proper degree of bearing on
the bit. What the proper degree may be depends greatly on the character
of the horses and the severity of the bit. Pulling horses must be
restrained by a strong draw on their bits, such as would bring other
animals to a standstill. But under no circumstances, no matter how
sluggish the horses may be, should the reins be allowed to lie slack;
for if this is done the horse receives no support in the event of a
sudden stumble, and no control if he shies unexpectedly. The driver
should therefore always just "feel his horse's mouth" as lightly as
possible; he then has the animal well under control in readiness for
every emergency, while avoiding such a pull on the mouth as would cause
a high-spirited horse to chafe and fret. Well-broken carriage horses
should always be willing to run into their bits, and those that draw
back when lightly held in hand should be kept up to the bit with the
whip.

These principles are common to all branches of the art of driving,
whether of one, two or four horses. When they are observed no great
difficulty confronts the coachman who is content with single or double
harness, provided he has acquired the eye for pace and distance, and the
instinctive realization of the length of the carriage behind him,
without which he may suffer collision with other vehicles, or allow
insufficient room in turning a corner or entering a gateway. For before
he can have had the practice by which alone this knowledge is to be
gained, the beginner will have learnt such elementary facts as that his
horses must be held well in hand going down hill and given their heads
on an ascent, and that on no account should the horse's mouth be
"jobbed" by the driver jerking the reins; he will also have learnt a
good deal about the character and temperament of the horse, on which so
much of the art of driving depends, and which can best be studied on the
box-seat and not at all in the library. If he has pursued this study
with any degree of insight, he will have learnt further to be sparing in
the use of the hand-brake with which most modern carriages are provided.
This apparatus is most useful in case of emergency, or for taking weight
off the carriage on a really steep descent; but the habit which too many
coachmen fall into of using the brake on every trifling decline should
be avoided. Its effect is that the horses are continually doing
collar-work, and are thus deprived of the relief which ought to be given
them by occasional light pole or shaft work instead.


  Tandem and four-in-hand.

When the ambition of the amateur coachman leads him to attempt a tandem
or four-in-hand he enters on a much more complex department of the art
of driving. In the first place he has now four reins instead of two to
manipulate, and the increase of weight on his hand, especially when four
horses are being driven, requires considerable strength of wrist to
support it without tiring. It is of the first importance, moreover, that
he should know instinctively the position in his hand of each of the
reins, and be able automatically and instantaneously to lay a finger on
any one of them. The driver who has to look at his reins to find the
off-side leader's rein, or who touches the near-side wheeler's in
mistake for it, is in peril of a catastrophe. It is therefore essential
that the reins should be correctly disposed between the fingers of the
left hand, and that the driver should as quickly as possible accustom
himself to handle them automatically. This is somewhat more difficult in
driving tandem than in driving four-in-hand, because in the latter case
there is greater spread of the reins in front of the hand than with
tandem, where the reins lie much more nearly parallel one above the
other. The actual holding of the reins is the same in both cases. The
coachman should be careful to take the reins in his hand before mounting
to the box-seat, as otherwise his team may make a start without his
having the means to control them. It is customary to hitch the reins,
ready for him to take them, on the outside terret (the ring on the pad
through which the rein runs) of the wheeler--the off-side wheeler in
four-in-hand. Standing on the ground beside the off-side wheel of his
carriage, ready to mount to the box-seat, the coachman, after drawing up
his reins till he almost feels the horses' mouths, must then let out
about a foot of slack in his off-side reins, in order that when on his
seat he may find all the reins as nearly as possible equal in length in
his hand. He mounts with them disposed in his right hand precisely as
they will be in his left when ready to start. The leaders' reins should
be separated by the forefinger, and the wheelers' by the middle finger.
The near-leader's rein will then be uppermost of the four, between the
forefinger and thumb; then between the forefinger and middle finger are
two reins together--the off-leader's and the near-wheeler's in the order
named; while at the bottom, between the middle and third fingers, is the
off-wheeler's rein. It will be found that held thus the reins spread
immediately in front of the hand in such a way that each several rein,
and each pair of reins--two near-side, two off-side, two wheelers' or
two leaders'--can be conveniently manipulated; and the proficient driver
can instinctively and instantaneously grasp any of them he chooses with
his right hand without having to turn his eyes from the road before him
to the reins in his hand. Having seated himself on the box and
transferred the reins, thus disposed, from the right to the left hand,
the coachman should shorten them till he just feels his wheelers' mouths
and holds back his leaders sufficiently to prevent them quite tightening
their traces; then, when he has taken the whip from its socket in his
right hand, he is ready to start. This is an operation requiring careful
management, to secure that leaders and wheelers start simultaneously;
for if the leaders start first they will be drawn up sharp by their
bits, or, what is worse, if their reins have not been sufficiently
shortened they will jump into their collars and possibly break a
swinging bar, and in either case they will be fretted and disconcerted
and will possibly in consequence either kick or rear; if the wheelers
start before the leaders they will ram the swinging bars under the tails
of the latter, with results equally unfortunate. The worst possible
method of starting is suddenly to give the horses their heads and use
the whip. But no positive rule can be laid down, for it is just one of
those points which depend largely on familiarity with the horses forming
the team. Horses even moderately accustomed to the work will generally
start best in obedience to the voice, and their attention may
simultaneously be aroused by gently feeling their mouths. When once
started the driver should at once see that his team is going straight.
If the leaders and wheelers are not exactly on the same line, this or
that rein must be shortened or lengthened as the case may require; and
it is to be noticed that as the near-wheeler's and off-leader's reins
lie together between the same fingers, a simultaneous shortening or
lengthening of these two reins will usually produce the desired result.
With rare exceptions, reins should be shortened or lengthened by pushing
them back or drawing them forward with the right hand from in front of
the driving hand, and not from behind it. As soon as the team is in
motion the leaders may be let out till they draw their traces taut; but
draught should be taken off them on falling ground or while rounding a
corner. Good drivers touch the reins as little as possible with the
whip-hand, and nothing is less workmanlike than for a coachman to act as
if he were an angler continually letting out or reeling in his line. In
rounding a corner a loop of an inch or two of the leaders' rein on the
side to which the turn is to be made is taken up by the right hand and
placed under the left thumb. This "points the leaders," who accordingly
make the required turn, while at the same time the right hand bears
lightly on the wheelers' rein of the opposite side, to prevent them
making the turn too sharply for safety to the coach behind them. As soon
as the turn is made--and all this applies equally to the passing of
other vehicles or obstacles on the road--the driver's left thumb
releases the loop, which runs out of itself, and the team returns to the
straight formation. A circumstance useful to bear in mind is that the
swinging bars are wider than the maximum width of the coach;
consequently the driver knows that wherever the swinging bars can pass
through with safety--and as they are before his eyes the calculation is
easy--the coach will safely follow.


  The use of the whip.

A necessary part of driving four horses or tandem is the proper use of
the whip. The novice, before beginning to drive, should acquire the
knack--which can only be learnt by practical instruction and
experiment--of catching up the thong of the whip on to the stick by a
flick of the wrist. With practice this is done almost automatically and
without looking at the whip. It is not merely an ornamental
accomplishment, but a necessary one; for in no other way can the whip be
kept in constant readiness for use either on wheelers or leaders as the
need of the moment may dictate. The point of the thong is confined in
the whip-hand when striking the wheelers (which should be done in front
of the pad), and is released for reaching the leaders. Considerable
dexterity is required in using the whip on the leaders without at the
same time touching, or at all events alarming or fretting, the wheelers.
The thong of the whip should reach the leaders from beneath the swinging
bar; and proficient "whips" can unerringly strike even the near leader
from under the off-side bar without disturbing the equanimity of any
other member of the team. This demands great skill and accuracy; but no
coachman is competent to drive four horses until he is able to touch
with the whip any particular horse that may require it, and no other.

Essential as is proficiency in the use of the whip when driving four
horses, it is even more imperative for the driver of tandem. For in
four-in-hand the leaders act in some measure as a restraint upon each
other's freedom of action, whereas the leader in tandem is entirely
independent and therefore more difficult to control. If he takes it into
his head to turn completely round and face the driver, there is no
effectual means of preventing him. It is here that a prompt and accurate
use of the whip is important. A sharp cut with the thong of the whip on
the side to which he is turning will often drive the leader back into
his place. But it must be done instantaneously, and the driver who has
got his thong coiled round the stick of his whip, or who cannot make
certain of striking the horse on precisely the desired spot, will miss
the opportunity and may find his team in a sad mess, possibly with
disastrous results. If the leader, in spite of a stroke from the whip at
the right moment and on the right spot, still persists in turning, the
only thing to be done is to turn the wheeler also; and then when the
tandem has been straightened, to turn the horses back once more to their
original direction. For this reason it is never safe to harness a tandem
to a four-wheeled vehicle; because if it should be necessary to turn the
wheeler sharply round, the fore-carriage would probably lock and the
trap be overturned. Of comparatively recent years a great improvement
has been effected in the harnessing of a tandem by the introduction of
swinging bars similar to those used in four-in-hand. Formerly the
leading traces in tandem drew direct from tugs on the wheeler's hames,
or less frequently from the stops on the shafts. This left a
considerable length of trace which, when draught was taken off the
leader, hung slack between the two horses; with the result that either
of them might get a leg over the leading trace, with dangerous
consequences. In the more modern arrangement short traces attached to
the wheeler's tugs hold a bar, which is kept in place by a few inches of
chain from the kidney-link on the wheeler's collar. This bar is
connected by short traces or chains with a second bar to which the
leader's true traces are hooked in the usual way, allowing him a
comfortable distance clear of the bar precisely as in four-in-hand. The
leader thus draws as before from the wheeler's tugs; but the length of
trace is broken up by the two swinging bars, and as these are prevented
from falling low by their attachment to the wheeler's collar, the danger
from a too slack leading trace is reduced to a minimum; though care is
needed when the leader is not pulling to prevent the bar falling on his
hocks.

Expert tandem driving, owing to the greater freedom of the leader from
control, is a more difficult art than the driving of four horses, in
spite of the fact that the weight on the hand is much less severe; but
the general principles of the two are the same. In Great Britain,
however, the coach-and-four is the more popular. It is more showy than
tandem; it keeps alive the romantic associations of the days when the
stagecoach was the ordinary means of locomotion; and a coach, or "drag,"
accommodates a larger party of passengers to a race-meeting or other
expedition for pleasure than a dogcart. But for those whose means do not
permit the more costly luxury of a four-horse team, a tandem will be
found to make all the demand on skill and nerve which, in combination
with the taste for horses, makes the art of driving a source of
enjoyment.

  See Donald Walker, _British Manly Exercises: in which Riding, Driving,
  Racing are now first described_ (London, 1834); Fuller, _Essay on
  Wheel Carriages_ (London, 1828); William Bridges Adams, _English
  Pleasure Carriages: their Origin, History, Materials, Construction_
  (London, 1837); _The Equestrian: A Handbook of Horsemanship,
  containing Plain Rules for Riding, Driving and the Management of the
  Horse_ (London, 1854); a Cavalry Officer, _The Handy Horse Book; or
  Practical Instruction in Driving and the Management of the Horse_
  (London, 1865-1867, 1871-1881); H. J. Helm, _American Roadsters and
  Trotting Horses_ (Chicago, 1878); E. M. Stratton, _The World on
  Wheels_ (New York, 1878); J. H. Walsh ("Stonehenge"), _Riding and
  Driving_ (London, 1863); James A. Garland, _The Private Stable_ (2nd
  ed., Boston, 1902); the Duke of Beaufort, _Driving_ (The Badminton
  Library, London, 1889), containing a bibliography; F. H. Huth, _Works
  on Horses and Equitation: A Bibliographical Record of Hippology_
  (London, 1887).     (R. J. M.)



DROGHEDA, a municipal borough, seaport and market town, on the southern
border of Co. Louth, Ireland, in the south parliamentary division, on
the river Boyne, about 4 m. from its mouth in Drogheda Bay, and 31½ m.
N. by W. from Dublin on the Great Northern main line. Pop. (1901)
12,760. It occupies both banks of the river; but the northern division
is the larger of the two, and has received greater attention in modern
times. The ancient fortifications, still extant in the beginning of the
19th century, have disappeared almost entirely, but of the four gateways
one named after St Lawrence remains nearly perfect, consisting of two
loopholed circular towers; and there are considerable ruins of another,
the West or Butler Gate. Among the public buildings are a mansion-house
or mayoralty, with a suite of assembly rooms attached; and the Tholsel,
a square building with a cupola. St Peter's chapel formerly served as
the cathedral of the Roman Catholic archbishopric of Armagh; and in the
abbey of the Dominican nuns there is still preserved the head of Oliver
Plunkett, the archbishop who was executed at Tyburn in 1681 on an
unfounded charge of treason. There was formerly an archiepiscopal palace
in the town, built by Archbishop Hampton about 1620; and the Dominicans,
the Franciscans, the Augustinians, the Carmelites and the knights of St
John have monastic establishments. Of the Dominican monastery (1224)
there still exists the stately Magdalen tower; while of the Augustinian
abbey of St Mary d'Urso (1206) there are the tower and a fine pointed
arch. At the head of the educational institutions there is a classical
school endowed by Erasmus Smith. There is also a blue-coat school,
founded about 1727 for the education of freemen's sons. The present
building was erected in 1870. Benjamin Whitworth, M.P., was a generous
benefactor to the town, who built the Whitworth Hall, furnished half the
funds for the construction of waterworks, established a cotton factory,
and is commemorated by a statue in the Mall. The industrial
establishments comprise cotton, flax and flour mills, sawmills,
tanneries, salt and soap works, breweries, chemical manure and
engineering works. The town is the headquarters of the valuable Boyne
salmon-fishery. A brisk trade is carried on mainly in agricultural
produce, especially with Liverpool (which is distant 135 m. due E.) and
with Glasgow. Many works of improvement have been effected from time to
time in the harbour, the quays of which occupy both sides of the river,
the principal, 1000 yds. in length, being on the north side. Here is a
depth of 21 ft. at the highest and 14 ft. at the lowest tides. The tide
reaches 2½ m. above the town to Oldbridge; and barges of 50 tons burden
can proceed 19 m. inland to Navan. The river is crossed by a bridge for
ordinary traffic, and by a fine railway viaduct. The town is governed
by a mayor, 6 aldermen and 18 councillors.

In the earliest notices the town of Drogheda is called Inver-Colpa or
the Port of Colpa; the present name signifies "The Bridge over the
Ford." In 1152 the place is mentioned as the seat of a synod convened by
the papal legate, Cardinal Paparo; in 1224 it was chosen by Lucas de
Netterville, archbishop of Armagh, for the foundation of the Dominican
friary of which there are still remains; and in 1228 the two divisions
of the town received separate incorporation from Henry III. But there
grew up a strong feeling of hostility between Drogheda _versus Uriel_
and Drogheda _versus Midiam_, in consequence of trading vessels lading
their cargoes in the latter or southern town, to avoid the pontage duty
levied in the former or northern town. At length, after much blood had
been shed in the dispute, Philip Bennett, a monk residing in the town,
succeeded by his eloquence, on the festival of Corpus Christi, 1412, in
persuading the authorities of the two corporations to send to Henry IV.
for a new charter sanctioning their combination, and this was granted on
the 1st of November. Drogheda was always considered by the English a
place of much importance. In the reign of Edward III. it was classed
along with Dublin, Waterford and Kilkenny as one of the four staple
towns of Ireland. Richard II. received in its Dominican monastery the
submissions of O'Neal, O'Donnell and other chieftains of Ulster and
Leinster. The right of coining money was bestowed on the town, and
parliaments were several times held within its walls. In the reign of
Edward IV. the mayor received a sword of state and an annuity of £20, in
recognition of the services rendered by the inhabitants at Malpus Bridge
against O'Reilly; the still greater honour of having a university with
the same privileges as that of Oxford remained a mere paper distinction,
owing to the poverty of the town and the unsettled state of the country;
and an attempt made by the corporation in modern times to resuscitate
their rights proved unsuccessful. In 1495 Poyning's laws were enacted by
a parliament held in the town. In the civil wars of 1641 the place was
besieged by O'Neal and the Northern Irish forces; but it was gallantly
defended by Sir Henry Tichbourne, and after a long blockade was relieved
by the Marquess of Ormond. The same nobleman relieved it a second time,
when it was invested by the Parliamentary army under Colonel Jones. In
1649 it was captured by Cromwell, after a short though spirited defence;
and nearly every individual within its walls, without distinction of age
or sex, was put to the sword. Thirty only escaped, who were afterwards
transported as slaves to Barbados. In 1690 it was garrisoned by King
James's army; but after the decisive battle of the Boyne (q.v.) it
surrendered to the conqueror without a struggle, in consequence of a
threat that quarter would not be granted if the town were taken by
storm.

Drogheda ceased to be a parliamentary borough in 1885, and a county of a
town in 1898. Before 1885 it returned one member, and before the Union
in 1800 it returned four members to the Irish parliament.

From the close of the 12th century, certainly long before the
Reformation and for some time after it, the primates of Ireland lived in
Drogheda. Being mostly Englishmen, they preferred to reside in the
portion of their diocese within the gate, and Drogheda, being a walled
town, was less liable to attack from the natives. From 1417 onwards
Drogheda was their chief place of residence and of burial. Its proximity
to Dublin, the seat of government and of the Irish parliament, in which
the primates were such prominent figures, induced them to prefer it to
_Ardmacha inter Hibernicos_. Archbishop O'Scanlain, who did much in the
building of the cathedral at Armagh, preferred to live at Drogheda, and
there he was buried in 1270. Near Drogheda in later times was the
primates' castle and summer palace at Termonfeckin, some ruins of which
remain. In Drogheda itself there is now not a vestige of the palace,
except the name "Palace Street." It stood at the corner of the main
street near St Lawrence's gate, and its grounds extended back to St
Peter's church. The primates of the 15th century were buried in or near
Drogheda. After the Reformation five in succession lived in Drogheda and
there were buried, though there is now nothing to fix the spot where any
of them lies. The last of these--Christopher Hampton--who was
consecrated to the primacy in 1613, repaired the ruined cathedral of
Armagh. He built a new and handsome palace at Drogheda, and he repaired
the old disused palace at Armagh and bestowed on it a demesne of 300
acres.



DROIT (Fr. for "right," from Lat. _directus_, straight), a legal title,
claim or due; a term used in English law in the phrase _droits of
admiralty_, certain customary rights or perquisites formerly belonging
to the lord high admiral, but now to the crown for public purposes and
paid into the exchequer. These _droits_ (see also WRECK) consisted of
flotsam, jetsam, ligan, treasure, deodand, derelict, within the
admiral's jurisdiction; all fines, forfeitures, ransoms, recognizances
and pecuniary punishments; all sturgeons, whales, porpoises, dolphins,
grampuses and such large fishes; all ships and goods of the enemy coming
into any creek, road or port, by durance or mistake; all ships seized at
sea, salvage, &c., with the share of prizes--such shares being
afterwards called "tenths," in imitation of the French, who gave their
admiral a _droit de dixième_. The _droits of admiralty_ were definitely
surrendered for the benefit of the public by Prince George of Denmark,
when lord high admiral of England in 1702. American law does not
recognize any such _droits_, and the disposition of captured property is
regulated by various acts of Congress.

The term _droit_ is also used in various legal connexions (for _French
law_, see FRANCE: _law_), such as the _droit_ of angary (q.v.), the
_droit d'achat_ (right of pre-emption) in the case of contraband (q.v.),
the feudal _droit de bris_ (see WRECK), the _droit de régale_ or ancient
royal privilege of claiming the revenues and patronage of a vacant
bishopric, and the feudal droits of seignory generally.



DROITWICH, a market town and municipal borough in the Droitwich
parliamentary division of Worcestershire, England, 5½ m. N.N.E. of
Worcester, and 126 m. N.W. by W. from London by the Great Western
railway. Pop. (1901) 4201. It is served by the Bristol-Birmingham line
of the Midland railway, and by the Worcester-Shrewsbury line of the
Great Western. It stands on the river Salwarpe, an eastern tributary of
the Severn. There is connexion with the Severn by canal. There are three
parish churches, St Andrew, St Peter and St Michael, of which the two
first are fine old buildings in mixed styles, while St Michael's is
modern. The principal occupation is the manufacture of the salt obtained
from the brine springs or _wyches_, to which the town probably owes both
its name and its origin. The springs also give Droitwich a considerable
reputation as a health resort. There are Royal Brine baths, supplied
with water of extreme saltness, St Andrew's baths, and a private bath
hospital. The water is used in cases of gout, rheumatism and kindred
diseases. Owing to the pumping of the brine for the salt-works there is
a continual subsidence of the ground, detrimental to the buildings, and
new houses are mostly built in the suburbs. In the pleasant well-wooded
district surrounding Droitwich the most noteworthy points are Hindlip
Hall, 3 m. S., where (in a former mansion) some of the conspirators in
the Gunpowder Plot defied search for eight days (1605); and Westwood, a
fine hall of Elizabethan and Carolean date on the site of a Benedictine
nunnery, a mile west of Droitwich, which offered a retreat to many
Royalist cavaliers and churchmen during the Commonwealth. Droitwich is
governed by a mayor, 4 aldermen and 12 councillors. Area, 1856 acres.

A Roman villa, with various relics, has been discovered here, but it is
doubtful how far the Romans made use of the brine springs. Droitwich
(_Wic_, _Salturic_, _Wich_) probably owed its origin to the springs,
which are mentioned in several charters before the Conquest. At the time
of the Domesday Survey all the salt springs belonged to the king, who
received from them a yearly farm of £65, but the manor was divided
between several churches and tenants-in-chief. The burgesses of
Droitwich are mentioned in the Domesday Survey, but they probably only
had certain franchises in connexion with the salt trade. The town is
first called a borough in the pipe roll of 2 Henry II., when an aid of
20s. was paid, but the burgesses did not receive their first charter
until 1215, when King John granted them freedom from toll throughout the
kingdom and the privilege of holding the town at a fee-farm of £100. The
burgesses appear to have had much difficulty in paying this large farm;
in 1227 the king pardoned twenty-eight marks of the thirty-two due as
tallage, while in 1237 they were £23 in arrears for the farm. They
continued, however, to pay the farm until the payment gradually lapsed
in the 18th century. In medieval times Droitwich was governed by two
bailiffs and twelve jurats, the former being elected every year by the
burgesses; Queen Mary granted the incorporation charter in 1554 under
the name of the bailiffs and burgesses. James I. in 1625 granted another
and fuller charter, which remained the governing charter until the
Municipal Reform Act. King John's charter granted the burgesses a fair
on the feast of SS. Andrew and Nicholas lasting for eight days, but
Edward III. in 1330 granted instead two fairs on the vigil and day of St
Thomas the Martyr and the vigil and day of SS. Simon and Jude. Queen
Mary granted three new fairs, and James I. changed the market day from
Monday to Friday.



DRÔME, a department in the south-east of France, formed of parts of
Dauphiné and Provence, and bounded W. by the Rhone, which separates it
from Ardèche, N. and N.E. by Isère, E. by Hautes-Alpes, S.E. by
Basses-Alpes, and S. by Vaucluse; area 2533 sq. m.; pop. (1906) 297,270.
Drôme is traversed from east to west by numerous rivers of the Rhone
basin, chief among which are the Isère in the north, the Drôme in the
centre and the Aygues in the south. The left bank of the Rhone is
bordered by alluvial plains and low hills, but to the east of this zone
the department is covered to the extent of two-thirds of its surface by
spurs of the Alps, sloping down towards the west. To the north of the
Drôme lie the Vercors and the Royans, a region of forest-clad ridges
running uniformly north and south. South of that river the mountain
system is broken, irregular and intersected everywhere by torrents. The
most easterly portion of the department, where it touches the mountains
of the Dévoluy, contains its culminating summit (7890 ft.). North of the
Isère stretches a district of low hills terminating on the limits of the
department in the Valloire, its most productive portion. The climate,
except in the valleys bordering the Rhone, is cold, and winds blow
incessantly. Snow is visible on the mountain-tops during the greater
part of the year.

The agriculture of the department is moderately prosperous. The main
crops are wheat, which is grown chiefly on the banks of the Isère and
Rhone, oats and potatoes. Large flocks of sheep feed on the pastures in
the south; cattle-raising is carried on principally in the north-east.
Good wines, among which the famous Hermitage growth ranks first, are
grown on the hills and plains near the Rhone and Drôme. Fruit culture is
much practised. Olives and figs are grown in the south; the cultivation
of mulberries and walnuts is more widely spread. In the rearing of
silkworms Drôme ranks high in importance among French departments. The
Montélimar district is noted for its truffles, which are also found
elsewhere in the department. The mineral products of Drôme include
lignite, blende, galena, calamine, freestone, lime, cement, potter's
clay and kaolin. Brick and tile works, potteries and porcelain
manufactories exist in several localities. The industries comprise
flour-milling, distilling, wood-sawing, turnery and dyeing. The chief
textile industry is the preparation and weaving of silk, which is
carried on in a number of towns. Woollen and cotton goods are also
manufactured. Leather working and boot-making, which are carried on on a
large scale at Romans, are important, and the manufacture of machinery,
hats, confectionery and paper employs much labour. Drôme exports fruit,
oil, cheese, wine, wool, live stock and its manufactured articles; the
chief import is coal. It is served by the Paris-Lyon railway, and the
Rhone and Isère furnish over 100 m. of navigable waterway. The canal de
la Bourne, the only one in the department, is used for purposes of
irrigation only. Drôme is divided into the arrondissements of Valence,
Die, Montélimar and Nyons, comprising 29 cantons and 379 communes. The
capital is Valence, which is the seat of a bishopric of the province of
Avignon. The department forms part of the académie (educational
division) of Grenoble, where its court of appeal is also located, and of
the region of the XIV. army corps.

Besides Valence, the chief towns of the department are Die, Montélimar,
Crest and Romans (qq.v.). Nyons is a small industrial town with a
medieval bridge and remains of ramparts. Suze-la-Rousse is dominated by
a fine château with fortifications of the 12th and 14th centuries; in
the interior the buildings are in the Renaissance style. At St Donat
there are remains of the palace of the kings of Cisjuran Burgundy;
though but little of the building is of an earlier date than the 12th
century, it is the oldest example of civil architecture in France. The
churches of Léoncel, St Restitut and La Garde-Adhémar, all of Romanesque
architecture, are also of antiquarian interest. St Paul-Trois-Châteaux,
an old Roman town, once the seat of a bishopric, has a Romanesque
cathedral. At Grignan there are remains of the Renaissance château where
Madame de Sévigné died. At Tain there is a sacrificial altar of A.D.
184.



DROMEDARY (from the Gr. [Greek: dromas, dromados], running, [Greek:
dramein], to run), a word applied to swift riding camels of either the
Arabian or the Bactrian species. (See CAMEL.)



DROMORE, a market town of Co. Down, Ireland, in the west parliamentary
division, on the upper Lagan, 17½ m. S.W. of Belfast by a branch of the
Great Northern railway. Pop. of urban district (1901) 2307. It is in the
linen manufacturing district. The town is of high antiquity, and was the
seat of a bishopric, which grew out of an abbey of Canons Regular
attributed to St Colman in the 6th century, and was united in 1842 to
Down and Connor. The town and cathedral were wholly destroyed during the
insurrection of 1641, and the present church was built by Bishop Jeremy
Taylor in 1661, who is buried here, as also is Thomas Percy, another
famous bishop of the diocese, who laid out the fine grounds of the
palace. Remains of a castle and earthworks are to be seen, together with
a large rath or encampment known as the Great Fort. The town gives its
name to a Roman Catholic diocese.



DROMOS (Gr. for running-place), in architecture, the name of the
entrance passage leading down to the beehive tombs in Greece, open to
the air and enclosed between stone walls.



DRONE, in music[1] (corresponding to Fr. _bourdon_; Ger. _Summer_,
_Stimmer_, _Hummel_; Ital. _bordone_), the bass pipe or pipes of the
bagpipe, having no lateral holes and therefore giving out the same note
without intermission as long as there is wind in the bag, thus forming a
continuous pedal, or drone bass. The drone consists of a jointed pipe
having a cylindrical bore and usually terminating in a bell. During the
middle ages bagpipes are represented in miniatures with conical
drones,[2] and M. Praetorius[3] gives a drawing of a bagpipe, which he
calls _Grosser Bock_, having two drones ending in a curved ram's horn.
The drone pipe has, instead of a mouthpiece, a socket fitted with a
reed, and inserted into a stock or short pipe immovably fixed in an
aperture of the bag. The reed is of the kind known as beating reed or
_squeaker_, prepared by making a cut in the direction of the
circumference of the pipe and splitting back the reed from the cut
towards a joint or knot, thus leaving a flap or tongue which vibrates or
beats, alternately opening and closing the aperture. The sound is
produced by the stream of air forced from the bag by the pressure of the
performer's arm causing the reed tongue to vibrate over the aperture,
thus setting the whole column of air in vibration. Like all cylindrical
pipes with reed mouthpiece, the drone pipe has the acoustic properties
of the closed pipe and produces a note of the same pitch as that of an
open pipe twice its length. The conical drones mentioned above would,
therefore, speak an octave higher than a cylindrical drone of the same
length. The drones are tuned by means of sliding tubes at the joints.

The drones of the old French _cornemuse_ played in concert with the
_hautbois de Poitou_ (see BAGPIPE), and differing from the shepherd's
_cornemuse_ or _chalémie_, formed an exception to this method of
construction, being furnished with double reeds like that of the oboe.
The drones of the musette and of the union pipes of Ireland are also
constructed on an altogether different plan. Instead of having long
cumbersome pipes, pointing over the shoulder, the musette drones consist
of a short barrel containing lengths of tubing necessary for four or
five drones, reduced to the most compact form and resembling the rackett
(q.v.). The narrow bores are pierced longitudinally through the
thickness of the barrel in parallel channels communicating with each
other in twos or threes, and so arranged as to provide the requisite
length for each drone. The reeds are double reeds all set in the wooden
stock within the bag. By means of regulating slides (called in English
_regulators_ and in French _layettes_), which may be pushed up and down
in longitudinal grooves round the circumference of the barrel, the
length of each drone tube can be so regulated that a simple harmonic
bass consisting of the common chord is obtainable. In the union pipes
the drones are separate pipes having keys played by the elbow, which
correspond to the sliders in the musette drone and produce the same kind
of harmonic bass. The modern Egyptian arghool consists of a kind of
clarinet with a drone attached to it by means of waxed thread; in this
case the beating reed of the drone is set in vibration directly by the
breath of the performer, who takes both mouthpieces into his mouth,
without the medium of a wind reservoir. Mersenne gave very clear
descriptions of the construction of cornemuse and musette, with clear
illustrations of the reeds and stock.[4] There are allusions in the
Greek classics which point to the existence of a pipe with a drone,
either of the arghool or the bagpipe type.[5] (K. S.)


FOOTNOTES:

  [1] For the "drone," the male of the honey bee, see BEE. The musical
   sense, both for the noise made and for the instrument, comes from the
   buzzing of the bee.

  [2] British Museum, Add. MS. 12,228 (Italian work), _Roman du Roy
    Meliadus_, 14th century, fol. 221 b., and Add. MS. 18,851, end 15th
    century (Spanish work illustrated by Flemish artists), fol. 13.

  [3] _Syntagma musicum. Theatrum instrumentorum_, pl. xi. No. 6.

  [4] _L'Harmonie universelle_ (Paris, 1636-1637), t. ii. bk. 5, pp.
    282-287 and p. 305.

  [5] Plato, _Crito_, 54; Aristophanes, _Acharnians_, 865, where some
    musicians are in derision dubbed "bumblebee pipers." See BAGPIPE;
    also Kathleen Schlesinger, "Researches into the Origin of the Organs
    of the Ancients," _Intern. mus. Ges._ vol. ii. (1901), Sammelband ii.
    pp. 188-202.



DRONFIELD, an urban district in the north-eastern parliamentary division
of Derbyshire, England, 6 m. S. of Sheffield, on the Midland railway.
Pop. (1901) 3809. It lies on the small river Drone, a tributary of the
Rother, in a busy industrial district in which are numerous coal-mines,
and there are iron foundries and manufactures of tools and other iron
and steel goods. The church of St John the Baptist, with a lofty spire,
is a good example of Decorated work, with Perpendicular additions.



DROPSY (contracted from the old word _hydropisy_, derived from the Gr.
[Greek: udrôps]; [Greek: udôr], water, and [Greek: ôps], appearance),
the name given to a collection of simple serous fluid in all or any of
the cavities of the body, or in the meshes of its tissues. Dropsy of the
subcutaneous connective tissue is termed _oedema_ when it is localized
and limited in extent; when more diffuse it is termed _anasarca_; the
term _oedema_ is also applied to dropsies of some of the internal
organs, notably to that of the lungs. _Hydrocephalus_ signifies an
accumulation of fluid within the ventricles of the brain or in the
arachnoid cavity; _hydrothorax_, a collection of fluid in one or both
pleural cavities; _hydropericardium_, in the pericardium; _ascites_, in
the peritoneum; and, when _anasarca_ is conjoined with the accumulation
of fluid in one or more of the serous cavities, the dropsy is said to be
general (see also PATHOLOGY).

Dropsy (excluding "epidemic dropsy," for which see below) is essentially
a symptom and not a specific disease, and is merely an exaggeration of a
certain state of health. Fluid, known as lymph, is continually passing
through the capillary walls into the tissues, and in health this is
removed as fast as it is exuded, in one or more of three ways: part of
it is used in the nutrition of the tissues, part is returned to the
general circulation by the veins, and part by the lymphatics. Any
accumulation constitutes dropsy and is a sign of disease, though not a
disease in itself. The serous effusions due to inflammation are not
included under the term dropsy. A dropsical fluid varies considerably in
composition according to its position in the body, but varies only
slightly according to the disease which has given rise to it. Its
specific gravity ranges between 1008 and 1018; the mineral salts present
are the same and in about the same proportion as those of blood, nor do
they vary with the position of the exudation. The quantity of albumin,
however, depends much on the position of the fluid, and slightly on the
underlying disease. In oedema the fluid contains only traces, whereas a
pleural or peritoneal effusion is always highly albuminous. Also an
effusion due to heart disease contains more albumin than one due to
kidney disease. In appearance it may be colourless, greenish or reddish
from the presence of blood pigment, or yellowish from the presence of
bile pigment; transparent or opalescent or milky from the presence of
fatty matter derived from the chyle. The membrane from which the
dropsical fluid escapes is healthy, or at least not inflamed, and only
somewhat sodden by long contact with the fluid--the morbid condition on
which the transudation depends lying elsewhere.

The simplest cause of dropsy is purely mechanical, blood pressure being
raised beyond a certain point owing to venous obstruction. This may be
due to thrombosis of a vein as in phlegmasia dolens (white leg),
retardation of venous circulation as in varicose veins, or obstruction
of a vein due to the pressure of an aneurism or tumour. Cardiac and
renal dropsy are more complicated in origin, but cardiac dropsy is
probably due to diminished absorption, and renal dropsy, when
unassociated with heart failure, to increased exudation. But the
starting point of acute renal dropsy, of the dropsy sometimes occurring
in diabetes, and that of chlorosis is the toxic condition of the blood.
For accounts of the various local dropsies see HYDROCEPHALUS; ASCITES;
LIVER, &c.; general dropsy, or dropsy which depends on causes acting on
the system at large, is due chiefly to diseases of the heart, kidneys or
lungs, occasionally on lardaceous disease, more rarely still on diabetes
or one of the anaemias.

Broadly speaking, 50% of cases of general dropsy are due to disease of
the heart or aorta, and 25% to renal troubles. The natural tendency of
all diseases of the heart is to transfer the blood pressure from the
arteries to the veins, and, so soon as this has reached a sufficient
degree, dropsy in the form of local _oedema_ commences to appear at
whatever may be the most depending part of the body--the instep and
ankle in the upright position, the lower part of the back or the lungs
if the patient be in bed--and this tends gradually to increase till all
the cavities of the body are invaded by the serous accumulation. The
diseases of the lungs which produce dropsy are those which obstruct the
passage of the blood through them, such as emphysema and fibrosis, and
thus act precisely like disease of the heart in transferring the blood
pressure from the arteries to the veins, inducing dropsy in exactly a
similar manner. The dropsy of renal disease is dependent for the most
part on an excess of exudation, due largely to an increase of arterial
and cardiac tension. This in its turn produces arterial thickening and
cardiac hypertrophy, which, if the case be sufficiently prolonged,
brings about a natural removal of the fluid. In kidney cases, in the
absence of cardiac disease, the dropsy will be found to appear first
about the loose cellular tissue surrounding the eyes, where the vessels,
turgid with watery blood, have less efficient support. The dropsy of
chlorosis is very similar to renal dropsy, a toxic condition of blood
being present in both; also other forms of anaemia, as also hydraemia,
tend to produce or assist in the production of dropsical effusions.

For the treatment of dropsy the reader is referred to the articles on
the several diseases of which it is a symptom. Briefly, however, tapping
of the abdomen or puncture of the legs are constantly resorted to in
severe cases. Dehydration by diet is very valuable under certain
circumstances when the dropsy is other than renal. And there is the
routine treatment by drugs, purgative, diaphoretic and diuretic as the
symptoms of the case may demand.

It may be well to mention that there are certain affections which may be
termed _spurious dropsies_, such as _ovarian dropsy_, which is only a
cystic disease of the ovary; _hydrometria_, dropsy of the uterus, due to
inflammatory occlusion of the os uteri; _hydronephrosis_, dropsy of the
kidney, due to obstruction of the ureter, and subsequent distension of
these organs by serous accumulations; other hollow organs may also be
similarly affected.

Having no known relation to the preceding is _epidemic dropsy_, the
first recorded outbreak of which occurred in Calcutta in the year 1877.
It disappeared during the hot weather of the following year, only to
recur over a wider area in the cold months of 1878 to 1879, and once
again in the cold of 1879 to 1880. Since then only isolated cases have
been recorded in the immediate neighbourhood of Calcutta, though
epidemics have broken out in other places both by land and sea. At the
end of 1902 an outbreak occurred in the Barisal gaol, Bengal, in which
nearly one-third of the cases ended fatally. Dropsy was an invariable
feature of the disease, and was either the first symptom or occurred
early. The lower limbs were first affected, trunk and upper limbs later
in severe cases, the face very rarely. It was accompanied by pyrexia,
gastro-enteritis, deep-seated pains in limbs and body, and burning and
pricking of the skin. Various rashes appeared early in the attack, while
eczema, desquamation and even ulceration supervened later. Anaemia was
very marked, giving rise in Mauritius to the name of acute anaemic
dropsy. The duration of the disease was very variable, the limits being
three weeks and three months. Death was often sudden, resulting chiefly
from cardiac and respiratory complications. The cause of the disease has
remained obscure, but there is reason to suppose that it was originally
imported from the Madras famine tracts.



DROPWORT, in botany, the common name for a species of _Spiraea_, _S.
filipendula_ (nat. ord. _Rosaceae_), found in dry pastures. It is a
perennial herb, with much divided radical leaves and an erect stem 2 to
3 ft. high bearing a loose terminal inflorescence of small white
flowers, closely resembling those of the nearly allied species _S.
Ulmaria_, or meadowsweet.

Water Dropwort, _Oenanthe crocata_ (nat. ord. _Umbelliferae_), is a tall
herbaceous plant growing in marshes and ditches. The stem, which springs
from a cluster of thickened roots, is stout, branched, hollow and 2 to 5
ft. high; the leaves are large and pinnately divided, and the flowers
are borne in a compound umbel, the long rays bearing dense partial
umbels of small white flowers. The plant, which is very poisonous, is
often mistaken for celery.



DROSHKY (Russ. _drozhki_, diminutive of _drogi_, a wagon), a light
four-wheeled uncovered carriage used in Russia. Properly it consists of
two pairs of wheels joined by a board. This forms a seat for the
passengers who sit sideways, while the driver sits astride in front. The
word _Droschke_, however, is applied especially in Germany to light
carriages generally which ply for hire.



DROSTE-HÜLSHOFF, ANNETTE ELISABETH, FREIIN VON (1797-1848), German poet,
was born at the family seat of Hülshoff near Münster in Westphalia on
the 10th of January 1797. Her early mental training was largely
influenced by her cousin, Clemens August, Freiherr von Droste zu
Vischering, who, as archbishop of Cologne, became notorious for his
extreme ultramontane views (see below); and she received a more liberal
education than in those days ordinarily fell to a woman's lot. After
prolonged visits among the intellectual circles at Coblenz, Bonn and
Cologne, she retired to the estate of Ruschhaus near Münster, belonging
to her mother's family. In 1841, owing to delicate health, she went to
reside in the house of her brother-in-law, the well-known scholar,
Joseph, Freiherr von Lassberg (1770-1855), at Schloss Meersburg on the
Lake of Constance, where she met Levin Schücking (q.v.); and there she
died on the 24th of May 1848. Annette von Droste-Hülshoff is, beyond
doubt, the most gifted and original of German women poets. Her verse is
strong and vigorous, but often unmusical even to harshness; one looks in
vain for a touch of sentimentality or melting sweetness in it. As a
lyric poet, she is at her best when she is able to attune her thoughts
to the sober landscape of the Westphalian moorlands of her home. Her
narrative poetry, and especially _Das Hospiz auf dem Grossen St Bernard_
and _Die Schlacht im Loener Bruch_ (both 1838), belongs to the best
German poetry of its kind. She was a strict Roman Catholic, and her
religious poems, published in 1852, after her death, under the title
_Das geistliche Jahr, nebst einem Anhang religiöser Gedichte_, enjoyed
great popularity.

  Annette von Droste-Hülshoff's _Gedichte_ were first published in 1844
  during her lifetime, and a number of her poems were translated into
  English by Thomas Medwin. The most complete edition of her works is
  that in 4 vols. edited by E. von Droste-Hülshoff (Münster, 1886). The
  _Ausgewählte Gedichte_ were edited by W. von Scholz (Leipzig, 1901).
  See Levin Schücking, _Annette von Droste-Hülshoff, ein Lebensbild_
  (2nd ed., Hanover, 1871)--her letters to L. Schücking were published
  at Leipzig in 1893; also H. Hueffer, _Annette von Droste-Hülshoff und
  ihre Werke_ (Gotha, 1887), and W. Kreiten, _Annette von
  Droste-Hülshoff_ (2nd ed., Paderborn, 1900).



DROSTE-VISCHERING, CLEMENS AUGUST, BARON VON (1773-1845), German Roman
Catholic divine, was born at Münster on the 21st of January 1773. He was
educated in his native town and entered the priesthood in 1798; in 1807
the local chapter elected him vicar-general. This office he resigned in
1813 through his opposition to Napoleon, but assumed it again after the
battle of Waterloo (1815) until a disagreement with the Prussian
government in 1820 led to his abdication. He remained in private life
until 1835, when he was appointed archbishop of Cologne. Here again his
zeal for the supremacy of the church led him to break the agreement
between the state and the Catholic bishops which he had signed at his
installation, and he was arrested by the Prussian government in November
1837. A battle of pamphlets raged for some time; Droste was not
re-installed but was obliged to accept a coadjutor. His chief works
were: _Über die Religionsfreiheit der Katholiken_ (1817), and _Über den
Frieden unter der Kirche und den Staaten_ (1843).

  See Carl Mirbt's article in Herzog-Hauck, _Realencyk. für prot. Theol._
  v. 23.



DROUAIS, JEAN GERMAIN (1763-1788), French historical painter, was born
at Paris on the 25th of November 1763. His father, François Hubert
Drouais, and his grandfather, Hubert Drouais, were well-known portrait
painters; and it was from his father that he received his first artistic
instruction. He was afterwards entrusted to the care of Brenet, an
excellent teacher, though his own pictures did not take high rank. In
1780 David, who had just returned from Rome, opened a school of painting
in Paris, and Drouais was one of his earliest and most promising pupils.
He adopted the classical style of his master, and gave his whole time to
study--painting during the day, and spending a great part of every night
in designing. For weeks together it is said that he never left his
studio. In 1783 he was admitted to compete for the great prize of
painting offered by the Academy, the subject being the "Widow of Nain."
After inspecting the works of his fellow-competitors, however, he lost
hope and destroyed his own canvas, but was consoled by the assurance of
his master David that had he not done so he would have won the prize.
Next year he was triumphantly successful, the "Woman of Canaan at the
Feet of Christ," with which he gained the prize, being compared by
competent critics with the works of Poussin. He was carried shoulder
high by his fellow-students through the streets to his mother's house,
and a place was afterwards found for his picture in the Louvre. His
success making him only the more eager to perfect himself in his art, he
accompanied David to Rome, where he worked even more assiduously than in
Paris. He was most strongly influenced by the remains of ancient art and
by the works of Raphael. Goethe, who was at Rome at the time it was
finished, has recorded the deep impression made by his "Marius at
Minturno," which he characterizes as in some respects superior to the
work of David, his master. The last picture which he completed was his
"Philoctetus on the Island of Lemnos." He died on the 15th of July
1788. A monument to his memory was erected by his fellow-students in the
church of Santa Maria in the Via Lata.



DROUET, JEAN BAPTISTE (1763-1824), French Revolutionist, chiefly noted
for the part he played in the arrest of Louis XVI. at Varennes, was born
at Sainte-Menehould. He served for seven years in the army, and
afterwards assisted his father, who was post-master of his native town.
The carriages conveying the royal family on their flight to the frontier
stopped at his door on the evening of the 21st of June 1791; and the
passengers, travelling under assumed names, were recognized by Drouet,
who immediately took steps which led to their arrest and detection on
reaching Varennes. For this service the Assembly awarded him 30,000
francs, but he appears to have declined the reward. In September 1792 he
was elected deputy to the Convention, and took his place with the most
violent party. He voted the death of the king without appeal, showed
implacable hostility to the Girondins, and proposed the slaughter of all
English residents in France. Sent as commissioner to the army of the
north, he was captured at the siege of Maubeuge and imprisoned at
Spielberg till the close of 1795. He then became a member of the Council
of Five Hundred, and was named secretary. Drouet was implicated in the
conspiracy of Babeuf, and was imprisoned; but he made his escape into
Switzerland, and thence to Teneriffe. There he took part in the
successful resistance to the attempt of Nelson on the island, in 1797,
and later visited India. The first empire found in him a docile
sub-prefect of Sainte-Menehould. After the second Restoration he was
compelled to quit France. Returning secretly he settled at Macon, under
the name of Merger and a guise of piety, and preserved his incognito
till his death on the 11th of April 1824.

  See G. Lenotre, _Le Drame de Varennes_ (Paris, 1905).



DROWNING AND LIFE SAVING. To "drown" (a verb used both transitively and
intransitively, of which the origin, though traced to earlier forms, is
unknown) is to suffer or inflict death by submersion in water, or
figuratively to submerge entirely in water or some other liquid. As a
form of ancient capital punishment, the method of drowning is referred
to at the end of this article, but the interest of the subject is mainly
associated with rescue-work in cases of accident.

Death from drowning is the result of asphyxia, due to the stoppage of a
supply of fresh air to the lungs. There is a certain amount of
stationary air in the lungs, and into this is diffused oxygen from the
fresh air taken in, while the carbonic acid which it has taken from the
blood through the walls of the capillaries is driven out. This process
of exchange is ever proceeding, the whole of it being regulated from the
nervous centre at the base of the brain. When a person gets under water
and cannot swim, there is a natural tendency to struggle, and in the
efforts to respire water is drawn into the windpipe and cough is brought
on. This expels the air from the lungs with the water which threatened
to suffocate him, and as further efforts are made to respire more water
is taken in and has to be swallowed. Meanwhile, the oxygen in the lungs
is gradually diminishing, the quantity of carbonic acid is increasing,
and at length the air in the lungs becomes too impure to effect an
exchange with the blood. Then the blood passing into the heart becomes
venous and the heart begins to send out venous instead of arterial blood
to all parts of the body. Immediately a dull, sickening pain becomes
apparent at the base of the neck, and insensibility rapidly ensues. This
arises from the affection of the respiratory nerve centre. In a short
space of time the face becomes dark and congested through the veins
being gorged with blood, and the heart ultimately ceases to beat.

When a person unable to swim falls into the water, he usually rises to
the surface, throws up his arms and calls for help. This, with the water
swallowed, will make him sink, and if the arms are moved above the head
when under water, he will, as a natural consequence, sink still lower.
The struggle will be prolonged a few seconds, and then probably cease
for a time, allowing him to rise again, though perhaps not sufficiently
high to enable him to get another breath of air. If still conscious, he
will renew his struggle, more feebly perhaps, but with the same result.
As soon as insensibility occurs, the body sinks altogether, owing to the
loss of air and the filling of the stomach with water. There is a
general belief that a drowning person must rise three times before he
finally sinks, but this is a fallacy. The question whether he rises at
all, or how often he does so, entirely depends upon circumstances. A man
may get entangled among weeds, which prevent his coming to the surface,
or he may die through heart failure from the shock or fright of entering
the water.

[Illustration: FIG. 1.--1st Release Method.]

On seeing a person struggling in the water in danger of drowning, no
time should be lost in going to his assistance, for he may sink at once,
and then there is danger of missing the body when searching under water
for it, or it may get entangled among weeds and then the rescuer's task
is rendered doubly dangerous. Before diving in to the rescue the boots
and heavy clothing should be discarded if possible, and in cases where a
leap has to be made from a height, such as a bridge, high embankment,
vessel or pier, or where the depth of the water is not known, it is best
to drop in feet first. Where weeds abound there is always danger of
entanglement, and therefore progress should be made in the direction of
the stream. When approaching a drowning man there is always the danger
of being clutched, but a swimmer who knows the right way to deal with a
man in the water can easily avoid this; but if through some mistake he
finds himself seized by the drowning person, a necessary thing for the
swimmer to do is to take advantage of his knowledge of the water and
keep uppermost, as this weakens the drowning person and makes the effort
of effecting a release much easier than would otherwise be the case. To
the Royal Life Saving Society in England is due the credit of
disseminating, throughout the entire world, the ideas of swimmers, based
on practical experience, as to the safest methods which should be
adopted for release and rescue, and their methods, as well as the
approved ones for resuscitation, are now taught in almost every school
and college.

[Illustration: FIG. 2.--2nd Release Method.]

If the rescuer be held by the wrists, he must turn both arms
simultaneously against the drowning person's thumbs, and bring his arms
at right angles to the body, thus dislocating the thumbs of the drowning
person if he does not leave go (fig. 1). If he be clutched round the
neck he must take a deep breath and lean well over the drowning person,
at the same time placing one hand in the small of his back, then raise
the other arm in line with the shoulder, and pass it over the drowning
person's arm, then pinch the nostrils close with the fingers, and at the
same time place the palm of the hand on the chin and push away with all
possible force. By the firm holding of the nose the drowning person is
made to open his mouth for breathing, and as he will then be under
water, choking ensues and he gives way to the rescuer, who then gains
complete control (fig. 2). One of the most dangerous clutches is that
round the body and arms or round the body only. When so tackled the
rescuer should lean well over the drowning person, take a breath as
before, and either withdraw both arms in an upward direction in front of
his body, or else act in the same way as when releasing oneself when
clutched round the neck. In any case one hand must be placed on the
drowning man's shoulder, and the palm of the other hand against his
chin, and at the same time one knee should be brought up against the
lower part of his chest. Then, with a strong and sudden push, the arms
and legs should be stretched out straight and the whole weight of the
body thrown backwards. This sudden and totally unexpected action will
break the clutch and leave the rescuer free to get hold of the drowning
person in such a manner as to be able to bring him to land (fig. 3).

[Illustration: FIG. 3.--3rd Release Method.]

[Illustration: FIG. 4.--Easiest method of carrying a person not
struggling.]

There are several practical methods of carrying a person through the
water, the easiest assistance to render being that to a swimmer attacked
by cramp or exhaustion, or a drowning person who may be obedient and
remain quiet when approached and assured of safety. Then the person
assisted should place his arms on the rescuer's shoulders, close to the
neck, with the arms at full stretch, lie on his back perfectly still,
with the head well back. The rescuer will then be uppermost, and having
his arms and legs free can, with the breast stroke, make rapid progress
to the shore; indeed a good pace can easily be made (fig. 4). In this,
as in the other methods afterwards described, every care should be taken
to keep the face of the drowning person above the water. All jerking,
struggling or tugging should be avoided, and the stroke of the legs be
regular and well timed, thus husbanding strength for further effort. The
drowning person being able to breathe with freedom is reassured, and is
likely to cease struggling, feeling that he is in safe hands.

[Illustration: FIG. 5.--1st Rescue Method.]

When a drowning person is not struggling, but yet seems likely to do so
when approached, the best method of rescue is to swim straight up, turn
him on his back, and then place the hands on either side of his face.
Then the rescuer should lie on his back, holding the drowning man in
front of him, and swim with the back stroke, always taking care to keep
the man's face above water (fig. 5). If the man be struggling and in a
condition difficult to manage, he should be turned on his back as
before, and a firm hold taken of his arms just above his elbows. Then
the man's arms should be drawn up at right angles to his body and the
rescuer should start swimming with the back stroke (fig. 6). He should
take particular care not to go against the current or stream, and
thereby avoid exhaustion. If the arms be difficult to grasp, or the
struggling so violent as to prevent a firm hold, the rescuer should slip
his hands under the armpits of the drowning person, and place them on
his chest or round his arms, then raise them at right angles to his
body, thus placing the drowning person completely in his power. The
journey to land can then be made by swimming on the back as in the other
methods (fig. 7). In carrying a person through the water, it will be of
much advantage to keep his elbows well out from the sides, as this
expands the chest, inflates the lungs and adds to his buoyancy. The legs
should be kept well up to the surface and the whole body as horizontal
as possible. This avoids a drag through the water, and will considerably
help the rescuer. In some cases it may happen that the drowning person
has sunk to the bottom and does not rise again. In that event the
rescuer should look for bubbles rising to the surface before diving in.
In still water the bubbles rise perpendicularly; in running water they
rise obliquely, so that the rescuer must look for his object higher up
the stream than where the bubbles rise. It is also well to remember that
in running water a body may be carried along by the current and must be
looked for in the direction in which it flows. When a drowning person is
recovered on the bottom, the rescuer should seize him by the head or
shoulders, place the left foot on the ground and the right knee in the
small of his back, and then, with a vigorous push, come to the surface.

[Illustration: FIG. 6.--2nd Rescue Method.]

[Illustration: FIG. 7.--3rd Rescue Method.]

When the rescuer reaches land with an insensible person, no time should
be lost in sending for a medical man, but in the meantime an attempt to
induce artificial respiration may be made. The first recorded cases of
resuscitating the apparently drowned are mentioned in the notes to
William Derham's _Physico-Theology_, as having occurred at Troningholm
and Oxford, about 1650. In 1745 Dr J. Fothergill read a paper on the
subject before the Royal Society. It dealt with the recovery of a man
dead in appearance by distending the lungs by Mr William Tossack,
surgeon in Alloa, in 1744. In 1767 several cases of resuscitation were
reported in Switzerland, and shortly after a society was formed at
Amsterdam for recovery of the apparently drowned, and to instruct the
common people as to the best manner of treating them when rescued, and
to reward the people for their services. In 1773 Dr A. Johnson suggested
the formation of a similar society in England, and Dr Thomas Cogan
translated the memoirs of the Amsterdam society. Dr William Hawes
secured a copy and tried to form a society. There was, however, a strong
prejudice against the idea, but he publicly offered rewards to persons
who, between Westminster and London Bridges, should rescue drowning
persons and bring them to certain places on shore in order that
resuscitation might be attempted. In this way he was instrumental in the
saving of several lives, and paid the rewards out of his own pocket,
until his zeal brought him sympathy and the Royal Humane Society was
founded. This was in 1774. The system then in vogue was a means of
inducing artificial respiration by inserting the pipe of a pair of
bellows into one nostril and closing the other. Air was forced into the
lungs and then expelled by pressing the chest, thus imitating
respiration. Dr Hawes used for his resuscitation work a kind of cradle,
in which the subject was placed, and then raised over a furnace.
Bleeding, holding up by the heels, rolling on casks, &c. were at various
times resorted to. Simple means are often as effective as the official
ones. In 1891 a subject was restored in Australia by being held over a
smoky fire, which is the native method of restoring life; while a few
years back, at an English riverside town, a patient was saved by the
placing of a handkerchief over his mouth and the alternate blowing into
and drawing air out of the lungs until natural breathing was restored.

One of the oldest methods of resuscitation was that of Dr Marshall Hall
(1790-1857), introduced in 1856. In this method the operator takes his
place at the patient's left side, and places a roll of clothing or
pillow (which must be the same length as that used in the previous
methods), so that it may be in position under the chest when the patient
is turned over. The assistant at the head pays particular attention to
the patient's arms, that they may not be laid upon or twisted at the
wrists, elbows, hands or shoulders. The patient is then turned face
downwards, with the body reclining over the pillow, the operator makes a
firm pressure with the hand upon the back, between and on the shoulder
blades, he then pulls the patient slowly up on to the side towards
himself. Once in position, the operator pushes the patient back again
until the face is downward, when the pressure on the back is to be
repeated. These three movements must be continued at the rate of about
fifteen times a minute, until natural breathing has been restored.

Then came the methods of Dr H. R. Silvester and Dr Benjamin Howard, of
New York.

When using the Silvester method, or, for the matter of that, any other
method, the first thing to do is to send for medical assistance. Dr
Silvester recommended that the patient should not be carried face
downwards or held up by his feet. All rough usage should be avoided,
especially twisting or bending of limbs, and the patient must not be
allowed to remain on the back unless the tongue is pulled forward. In
the event of respiration not being entirely suspended when a person is
lifted out of the water, it may not be necessary to imitate breathing,
but natural respiration may be assisted by the application of an
irritant substance to the nostrils and tickling the nose.
Smelling-salts, pepper and snuff may be used, or hot and cold water
alternately dashed on the face or chest. Provided no sign of life can be
seen or felt or the heart's action heard, promotion of breathing, _not_
circulation must be the first aim and effort. Lay the patient flat on
his back, with the head at a slightly higher level than the feet. Remove
all tight clothing about the neck, chest and abdomen, and loosen the
braces, belts or corsets. The operator taking his place at the head,
with an assistant on one side, will turn the patient over until he is
lying face downwards, his head resting upon one arm. He should then,
after the assistant has given one or two sharp blows with the open hand
between the shoulder blades, wipe and clear the mouth, throat and
nostrils of all matter that may prevent the air from entering the lungs,
using a handkerchief for this purpose. This being done, the patient
should be turned upon his back, the tongue pulled forward and kept in
position by means of a dry cloth, handkerchief or piece of string tied
round the jaw. Every care must be taken not to let it fall back into the
mouth and thus obstruct the air passages. When this work has been
accomplished (it should only last a few seconds) the operator at the
head should lift the patient, handling the head and shoulders very
carefully, in order that the assistant may place a roll of clothing or
pillow under the shoulder blades. The roll being placed in position, the
operator will lean forward and grasp the arms below the elbows. He will
then draw the patient's arms steadily upwards and outwards, above the
head, until fully extended in line with the body. Having held the arms
in this position for about one second, the operator will carry them back
again and press them firmly against the side and front of the chest for
another second. By these means an exchange of air is produced in the
lungs similar to that effected by natural respiration. These movements
must be repeated carefully and deliberately about fifteen times a
minute, and persevered in. When natural respiration is once established,
the operator should cease to imitate the movements of breathing, and
proceed with the treatment for _the promotion of warmth and
circulation_.

Friction over the surface of the body must be at once resorted to, using
handkerchiefs, flannels, &c., so as to propel the blood along the veins
towards the heart, while the operator attends to the mouth, nose and
throat. The friction along the legs, arms and body should all be towards
the heart and should be continued after the patient has been wrapped in
blankets or some dry clothing. As soon as possible, the patient should
be removed to the nearest house and further efforts made to promote
warmth by the application of hot flannels to the pit of the stomach, and
bottles or bladders of hot water, heated bricks, &c. to the armpits,
between the thighs and to the soles of the feet. If there be pain or
difficulty in breathing, apply a hot linseed meal poultice to the chest.
On the restoration of life, a teaspoonful of warm water should be given;
and then, if the power of swallowing has returned, very small quantities
of wine, warm brandy and water, beef tea or coffee administered, the
patient kept in bed, and a disposition to sleep encouraged. The patient
should be carefully watched for some time to see that breathing does not
fail, and, should any signs of failure appear, artificial respiration
should at once be resumed. While the patient is in the house, care
should be taken to let the air circulate freely about the room and all
overcrowding should be prevented.

In the Howard method there are only two movements; its knowledge is said
to be necessary in case the patient's arm be in any way injured, or a
more vigorous method than the "Silvester" deemed necessary, _but care
should be exercised not to injure the patient by too forcible pressure_.
The patient is laid on his back, the roll is larger than that used in
the Silvester method, and is placed farther under the back in order that
the lower part of the chest may be highest. After adjusting the roll,
the operator kneels astride of the patient, while his assistant goes to
the head, lifts the patient's arms beyond the head, and holds them to
the ground, cleans the mouth and nose, and attends to the tongue. The
operator, with his fingers spread well apart, taking care that the
thumbs do not press into the pit of the stomach, grasps the most
compressible part of the lower ribs, and with both hands applies
pressure firmly by leaning over the patient; then he springs back,
lifting his hands off the patient. Artificial respiration is thus
effected, and continued at the rate of about fifteen times a minute.
When natural breathing has been restored, the treatment is the same as
in the Silvester method.

These methods have now been superseded by the Schäfer method, which has
been taken up by the Royal Life Saving Society, a body instituted in
1891 for the promotion of technical education in life saving and
resuscitation of the apparently drowned. The Schäfer method has much to
recommend it, owing to its extreme simplicity and the ease with which
the physical operations necessary to carry on artificial respiration may
be performed, hardly any muscular exertion being required. It involves
no risk of injury to the congested liver or to any other organ, and as
the patient is laid face downwards, there is no possibility of the air
passages being blocked by the falling back of the tongue into the
pharynx. The water and mucus can also be expelled much more readily from
the air passages through the mouth and nostrils.

It was due to the happy selection of Professor E. A. Schäfer, as
chairman of a committee appointed by the Royal Medical & Chirurgical
Society for the investigation of the methods in use for resuscitation of
the apparently drowned, that the new method was devised. This committee
made many experiments upon the cadaver but failed to arrive at any
definite conclusion by that means. The necessity then appeared of
thorough investigation of the subject by experiments upon animals, so
that the phenomena attendant upon drowning might be better known, and
the various methods of resuscitation properly tried. These experiments
were made in Edinburgh by Professor Schäfer, with the co-operation of
Dr P. T. Herring, and the results obtained were embodied in the report
of the committee, which was presented to the Royal Medical and
Chirurgical Society in 1904, and published as a supplement to volume 86
of the _Transactions_ of the society. As the direct outcome of these
experiments, Professor Schäfer was led to believe that a pressure method
of resuscitation was not only simpler to perform but also more
efficacious than any other. This conclusion was put to the test by
measurements of the results obtained upon the normal human subject by
the various methods in vogue; from these measurements, which were
published in the _Proceedings_ of the Royal Society of Edinburgh in
December 1903, it appeared that when such pressure is exerted in the
prone position the highest degree of efficiency as well as simplicity is
obtained. The description of this method was communicated to the Royal
Medical and Chirurgical Society, and was published in the following year
(1904) in volume 87 of the _Transactions_ of the society.

Thus it came about that by investigating the phenomena of drowning, and
the means of resuscitation in dogs, and by applying the results obtained
to man, the method which the society now advocates as the best was
arrived at. In the experiments referred to, it was found necessary to
drown 38 dogs, all but two of which were from first to last in a
complete state of anaesthesia, the two exceptions having been simply
drowned without anaesthesia. It is important that the public should
understand that the evolution of a method which will probably be the
means of saving thousands of lives has resulted from the painless
sacrifice of less than 40 dogs, a number which would doubtless in any
case have been destroyed by drowning or some other form of suffocation,
but without the benefit of the anaesthetics which were employed in the
experiments.

[Illustration: FIG 8..--Schäfer method of treatment of the apparently
drowned. Position A.]

[Illustration: FIG. 9.--Schäfer method of treatment of the apparently
drowned. Position B.]

Professor Schäfer describes the method as follows:--Lay the subject face
downwards on the ground, then without stopping to remove the clothing
the operator should at once place himself in position astride or at one
side of the subject, facing his head and kneeling upon one or both
knees. He then places his hands flat over the lower part of the back (on
the lowest ribs), one on each side (fig. 8), and then gradually throws
the weight of his body forward on to them so as to produce firm pressure
(fig. 9)--which must not be violent, or upon the patient's chest. By
this means the air, and water if any, are driven out of the patient's
lungs. Immediately thereafter the operator raises his body slowly so as
to remove the pressure, but the hands are left in position. This forward
and backward movement is repeated every four or five seconds; in other
words, the body of the operator is swayed slowly forwards and backwards
upon the arms from twelve to fifteen times a minute, and should be
continued for at least half an hour, or until the natural respirations
are resumed. Whilst one person is carrying out artificial respiration in
this way, others may, if there be opportunity, busy themselves with
applying hot flannels to the body and limbs, and hot bottles to the
feet, but no attempt should be made to remove the wet clothing or to
give any restoratives by the mouth until natural breathing has
recommenced.

In his paper read before the Royal Society of Edinburgh in December 1903
Professor Schäfer gave the following table of the relative exchanges of
air under different methods:--

  +------------------------------+--------+---------------+--------------+
  |                              | Number | Amount of air |Amount of air |
  |      Mode of Respiration.    |  per   | exchanged per |exchanged per |
  |                              | minute.|  respiration. |   minute.    |
  +------------------------------+--------+---------------+--------------+
  | Natural respiration (supine) |  13    |     489 c.c.  |   6.460 c.c. |
  | Natural      "    (prone)    |  12.5  |     422  "    |   5.240  "   |
  | Prone (pressure), "Schäfer"  |  13    |     520  "    |   6.760  "   |
  | Supine (pressure), "Howard"  |  13.6  |     295  "    |   4.020  "   |
  | Rolling (with pressure),     |        |               |              |
  |   "Marshall Hall"            |  13    |     254  "    |   3.300  "   |
  | Rolling (without pressure),  |        |               |              |
  |   "Marshall Hall"            |  12    |     192  "    |   2.300  "   |
  | Traction (with pressure),    |        |               |              |
  |   "Silvester"                |  12.8  |     178  "    |   2.280  "   |
  +------------------------------+--------+---------------+--------------+

These experiments all tend to show that by far the most efficient method
of performing artificial respiration is that of intermittent pressure
upon the lower ribs with the subject in the prone position or face
downward. It is also the easiest to perform, requiring practically no
exertion, as the weight of the operator's body produces the effect, and
the swinging forwards and backwards of the body some thirteen times a
minute, which alone is required, is by no means fatiguing, and has the
further great advantage that it can be effectively carried out by one
person.

  See Taylor, _Medical Jurisprudence_; "Description of a simple and
  efficient method of performing artificial respiration in the human
  subject, especially in cases of drowning," by E. A. Schäfer, F.R.S.
  (vol. 87, _Medico-Chirurgical Society's Transactions_); "The relative
  efficiency of certain methods of performing artificial respiration in
  man," by E. A. Schäfer, F.R.S. (vol. 23, part i. _Proceedings of the
  Royal Society of Edinburgh_); _A Method for the Treatment of the
  Apparently Drowned_, by R. S. Bowles (London, 1903); _Handbook of
  Instruction_, Royal Life Saving Society (London, 1908).     (W. HY.)

_Penal Use of Drowning._--As a form of capital punishment, drowning was
once common throughout Europe, but it is now only practised in
Mahommedan countries and the Far East. Tacitus states that the ancient
Germans hanged criminals of any rank, but those of the low classes were
drowned beneath hurdles in fens and bogs. The Romans also drowned
convicts. The Lex Cornelia ordained that parricides should be sewn in a
sack with a dog, cock, viper and ape, and thrown into the sea. The law
of ancient Burgundy ordered that an unfaithful wife should be smothered
in mud. The Anglo-Saxon punishment for women guilty of theft was
drowning. So usual was the penalty in the middle ages that grants of
life and death jurisdiction were worded to be "_cum fossa et furca_"
(i.e. "with drowning-pit and gallows"). The owner of Baynard's Castle,
London, in the reign of John, had powers of trying criminals, and his
descendants long afterwards claimed the privileges, the most valued of
which was the right of drowning in the Thames traitors taken within
their jurisdiction. Drowning was the punishment ordained by Richard
Coeur de Lion for any soldier of his army who killed a fellow-crusader
during the passage to the Holy Land. Drowning was usually reserved for
women as being the least brutal form of death-penalty, but occasionally
a male criminal was so executed as a matter of favour. Thus in Scotland
in 1526 a man convicted of theft and sacrilege was ordered to be drowned
"by the queen's special grace." In 1611 a man was drowned at Edinburgh
for stealing a lamb, and in 1623 eleven gipsy women suffered there. By
that date the penalty was obsolete in England. It survived in Scotland
till 1685 (the year of the drowning of the Wigtoun martyrs). The last
execution by drowning in Switzerland was in 1652, in Austria 1776, in
Iceland 1777; while in France during the Revolution the penalty was
revived in the terrible _Noyades_ carried out by the terrorist Jean
Baptiste Carrier at Nantes. It was abolished in Russia at the beginning
of the 18th century.



DROYSEN, JOHANN GUSTAV (1808-1884), German historian, was born on the
6th of July 1808 at Treptow in Pomerania. His father, Johann Christoph
Droysen, was an army chaplain, in which capacity he was present at the
celebrated siege of Kolberg in 1806-7. As a child young Droysen
witnessed some of the military operations during the War of Liberation,
for his father was pastor at Greifenhagen, in the immediate
neighbourhood of Stettin, which was held by the French during the
greater part of 1813. The impressions of these early years laid the
foundation of the ardent attachment to Prussia which distinguished him,
like so many other historians of his generation. He was educated at the
gymnasium of Stettin and at the university of Berlin; in 1829 he became
a master at the Graue Kloster (or Grey Friars), one of the oldest
schools in Berlin; besides his work there he gave lectures at the
university, from 1833 as _privat-dozent_, and from 1835 as professor,
without a salary. During these years he was occupied with classical
antiquity; he published a translation of Aeschylus and a paraphrase of
Aristophanes, but the work by which he made himself known as a historian
was his _Geschichte Alexanders des Grossen_ (Berlin, 1833, and other
editions), a book which still remains probably the best work on the
subject. It was in some ways the herald of a new school of German
historical thought, for it shows that idealization of power and success
which he had learnt from the teaching of Hegel. It was followed by other
volumes dealing with the successors of Alexander, published under the
title of _Geschichte des Hellenismus_ (Hamburg, 1836-1843). A new and
revised edition of the whole work was published in 1885; it has been
translated into French, but not into English.

In 1840 Droysen was appointed professor of history at Kiel. He was at
once attracted into the political movement for the defence of the rights
of the Elbe duchies, of which Kiel was the centre. Like his predecessor
F. C. Dahlmann, he placed his historical learning at the service of the
estates of Schleswig-Holstein and composed the address of 1844, in which
the estates protested against the claim of the king of Denmark to alter
the law of succession in the duchies. In 1848 he was elected a member of
the Frankfort parliament, and acted as secretary to the committee for
drawing up the constitution. He was a determined supporter of Prussian
ascendancy, and was one of the first members to retire after the king of
Prussia refused the imperial crown in 1849. During the next two years he
continued to support the cause of the duchies, and in 1850, with Carl
Samwer, he published a history of the dealings of Denmark with
Schleswig-Holstein, _Die Herzogthümer Schleswig-Holstein und das
Königreich Dänemark seit dem Jahre 1806_ (Hamburg, 1850). A translation
was published in London in the same year under the title _The Policy of
Denmark towards the Duchies of Schleswig-Holstein_. The work was one of
great political importance, and had much to do with the formation of
German public opinion on the rights of the duchies in their struggle
with Denmark.

After 1851 it was impossible for him to remain at Kiel, and he was
appointed to a professorship at Jena; in 1859 he was called to Berlin,
where he remained till his death. In his later years he was almost
entirely occupied with Prussian history. In 1851 he brought out a life
of Count Yorck von Wartenburg (Berlin, 1851-1852, and many later
editions), one of the best biographies in the German language, and then
began his great work on the _Geschichte der preussischen Politik_
(Berlin, 1855-1886). Seven volumes were published, the last not till
after his death. It forms a complete history of the growth of the
Prussian monarchy down to the year 1756. This, like all Droysen's work,
shows a strongly marked individuality, and a great power of tracing the
manner in which important dynamic forces worked themselves out in
history. It was this characteristic quality of comprehensiveness that
also gave him so much influence as a teacher.

Droysen, who was twice married, died in Berlin on the 19th of June 1884.
His eldest son, Gustav, is the author of several well-known historical
works, namely, _Gustav Adolf_ (Leipzig, 1869-1870); _Herzog Bernhard von
Weimar_ (Leipzig, 1885); an admirable _Historischer Handatlas_ (Leipzig,
1885), and several writings on various events of the Thirty Years' War.
Another son, Hans Droysen, is the author of some works on Greek history
and antiquities.

  See M. Duncker, _Johann Gustav Droysen, ein Nachruf_ (Berlin, 1885);
  and Dahlmann-Waitz, _Quellenkunde der deutschen Geschichte_ (Leipzig,
  1906).     (J. W. HE.)



DROZ, ANTOINE GUSTAVE (1832-1895), French man of letters, son of the
sculptor J. A. Droz (1807-1872), was born in Paris on the 9th of June
1832. He was educated as an artist, and began to exhibit in the Salon of
1857. A series of sketches dealing gaily and lightly with the intimacies
of family life, published in the _Vie parisienne_ and issued in book
form as _Monsieur, Madame et Bébé_ (1866), won for the author an
immediate and great success. _Entre nous_ (1867) was built on a similar
plan, and was followed by some psychological novels: _Le Cahier bleu de
Mlle Cibot_ (1868); _Autour d'une source_ (1869); _Un Paquet de lettres_
(1870); _Babolein_ (1872); _Les Étangs_ (1875); _L'Enfant_ (1885). His
_Tristesses et sourires_ (1884) is a delicate analysis of the niceties
of family intercourse and its difficulties. Droz's first book was
translated into English under the title of _Papa, Mamma and Baby_
(1887). _Un Été à la campagne_, a book which caused considerable
scandal, was erroneously attributed to him. He died on the 22nd of
October 1895.



DROZ, FRANÇOIS-XAVIER JOSEPH (1773-1850), French writer on ethics and
political science, was born on the 31st of October 1773 at Besançon,
where his family had furnished men of considerable mark to the legal
profession. His own legal studies led him to Paris in 1792; he arrived
on the very day after the dethronement of the king, and was present
during the massacres of September; on the declaration of war he joined
the volunteer _bataillon_ of the Doubs, and for the next three years
served in the Army of the Rhine. Receiving his discharge on the score of
ill-health, he obtained a much more congenial post in the newly-founded
_école centrale_ of Besançon; and in 1799 he made his first appearance
as an author by an _Essai sur l'art oratoire_ (Paris, Fructidor, An
VII.), in which he acknowledges his indebtedness more especially to Hugh
Blair. Removing to Paris in 1803, he became intimate not only with the
like-minded Ducis, but also with the sceptical Cabanis; and it was on
this philosopher's advice that, in order to catch the public ear, he
produced the romance of _Lina_, which Sainte-Beuve has characterized as
a mingled echo of Florian and _Werther_. Like several other literary men
of the time, he obtained a post in the revenue office known as the
_Droits réunis_; but from 1814 he devoted himself exclusively to
literature and became a contributor to various journals. Already
favourably known by his _Essai sur l'art d'être heureux_ (Paris, 1806),
his _Éloge de Montaigne_ (1812), and his _Essai sur le beau dans les
arts_ (1815), he not only gained the Monthyon prize in 1823 by his work
_De la philosophie morale ou des différents systèmes sur la science de
la vie_, but also in 1824 obtained admission to the Académie Française.
The main doctrine inculcated in this last treatise is that society will
never be in a proper state till men have been educated to think of their
duties and not of their rights. It was followed in 1825 by _Application
de la morale à la philosophie et à la politique_, and in 1829 by
_Économie politique, ou principes de la science des richesses_, a
methodical and clearly written treatise, which was edited by Michel
Chevalier in 1854. His next and greatest work was a _Histoire du règne
de Louis XVI_ (3 vols., Paris, 1839-1842). As he advanced in life Droz
became more and more decidedly religious, and the last work of his
prolific pen was _Pensées du Christianisme_ (1842). Few have left so
blameless a reputation: in the words of Sainte-Beuve, he was born and he
remained all his life of the race of the good and the just.

  See Guizot, _Discours académiques_; Montalembert, "Discours de
  réception," in _Mémoires de l'Académie française_; Sainte-Beuve,
  _Causeries du lundi_, t. iii.; Michel Chevalier, Notice prefixed to
  the _Économie politique_.



DRUG, a district and town of British India, in the Chhattisgarh division
of the Central Provinces. The district was formed in 1906 out of
portions of the districts of Bilaspur and Raipur. It has an area of 3807
sq. m., and the population on that area in 1901 was 628,885, showing a
heavy decrease in the preceding decade, owing to the famines of 1897 and
1900. The district is a long narrow tract, with lofty ridges of gravel
in the centre and north, but otherwise consisting of open rolling
country. The Tendula and Seonath are the principal rivers. Rich black
soil covers a large part of the district, and rice, wheat and other
crops are grown. The main line of the Bengal-Nagpur railway passes
through the district. Drug, the capital of the district, is on the
railway, 685 m. from Bombay, and had in 1901 a population of 4002.
Bell-metal-founding and cotton-weaving are carried on.



DRUG (from Fr. _drogue_, a word common in Romance languages, cf. Span.
and Ital. _droga_; the origin of the word is obscure, but may possibly
be connected with Dutch _droog_, dry), any organic and inorganic
substance used in the preparation of medicines, by itself or in
combination with others, and either prepared by some method or used in a
natural state (see PHARMACOLOGY and PHARMACOPOEIA). In a particular
sense "drug" is often used synonymously for narcotics or poisonous
substances, and hence "to drug" means to stupefy or poison. The word is
also applied to any article for which there is no sale, or of which the
value has greatly depreciated--a "drug in the market."



DRUIDISM, the name usually given to the religious system of the ancient
inhabitants of Gaul and the British Islands. The word Druid (Lat.
_druida_) probably represents a Gaulish _druid-s_, Irish _drúi_, gen.
sing. _drúad_. On the analogy of Irish _súi





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