tion from Hamburg reached him, which at the
first aspect seemed to open out a future peculiarly suited to Lessing's
tastes and idiosyncrasies. An association of rich burghers had
conceived the idea of founding a national theatre, which, liberally
endowed, and thus removed from the region of pecuniary speculation,
could devote itself exclusively to the cultivation of high art, and
thus raise the national standard of taste. A dramatic critic and
adviser was to belong to the establishment, and this post was offered
to Lessing with a salary of 800 thalers. He accepted with alacrity, and
repaired to Hamburg in the confidence of having at last found a niche
well suited to his capacity. At the worst, he had nothing to lose and
everything to gain by this step, and he gladly turned his back on
Berlin, now distasteful to him. He hoped to throw himself once more
into dramatic labours, and to find himself in contact with the living
stage. Only too speedily his hopes were destined to disappointment. He
had not been long at Hamburg before, notwithstanding all his power of
illusion, he could not disguise from himself the fact that the project
that sounded so noble and disinterested really rested on no higher
basis than that of miserable stage cabals.

Before issuing the first number of his paper, the 'Hamburger
Dramaturgie,' a critical journal, which was to accompany the art of the
author and actor throughout the representations, he already knew that
the project begun with such high hopes must end in a miserable
_fiasco_. Still he set to work upon his journal undauntedly, determined
that it should, as far as it lay in his power, serve the purposes of
the drama and instruct the populace as to the full import and aim of
this noble art. The paper was a weekly one, the criticisms, therefore,
had the merit of being thoroughly thought out and digested, not written
like our modern theatrical criticisms under the very glare of the
foot-lights. Lessing analysed the plays and their performance; he
pointed out not only where, but why actors had erred; his sure
perception and accurate knowledge of stage routine made him an
invaluable guide to the performers. His criticisms, had they been
continued, would have laid the basis of a science of histrionics, but
unhappily for the world, the wretched vanity of the _artistes_, some of
whom he had ventured gently to condemn, caused him to desist from this
portion of his criticism. He confined himself sole