gue, and the effect
of the Dutch genre-paintings of Teniers or Jan Steen is admirably
reproduced in dramatic form. The slowly moving action, constantly
reverting to past incidents, makes a successful performance difficult;
the fate of this work on the stage has depended upon finding an actor
capable of bringing out all the possibilities in the part of Adam, who
is a masterpiece of comic self-characterization.

_Penthesilea_ is a work apart. Passionate, headlong, almost savage, is
the character of the queen of the Amazons, yet wonderfully sweet in
its gentler moods and glorified with the golden glow of high poetry.
Nothing could be further removed from the pseudo-classical manner of
the eighteenth century than this modern and individual interpretation
of the old mythical story of Penthesilea and Achilles, between whom
love breaks forth in the midst of mortal combat. The clash of passions
creates scenes in this drama that transcend the humanly and
dramatically permissible. Yet there is a wealth of imaginative beauty
and emotional melody in this tragedy beyond anything in Kleist's other
works. It was written with his heart's blood; in it he uttered all the
yearning and frenzy of his first passion for the unattainable and
ruined masterpiece _Guiscard_.

_Kitty of Heilbronn_ stands almost at the opposite pole from
_Penthesilea_. The pathos of Griselda's unquestioning self-abnegation
is her portion; she is the extreme expression of the docile quality
that Kleist sought in his betrothed. Instead of the fabled scenes of
Homeric combat, we have here as a setting the richly romantic and
colorful life of the age of chivalry. The form, too, is far freer and
more expansive, with an unconventional mingling of verse and prose.

The last two plays were born of the spirit that brought forth the War
of Liberation. In them Kleist gave undying expression to his ardent
patriotism; it was his deepest grief that these martial dramas were
not permitted to sound their trumpet-call to a humbled nation yearning
to be free. _Arminius_ is a great dramatized philippic. The ancient
Germanic chiefs Marbod and Arminius, representing in Kleist's
intention the Austria and Prussia of his day, are animated by one
common patriotic impulse, rising far above their mutual rivalries, to
cast off the hateful and oppressive yoke of Rome; and after the
decisive victory over Varus in the Teutoburg Forest, each of these
strong chiefs is ready in devoted self-deni