unto death.  And Otto von Meran, the princely profligate, is one of Grillparzer’s boldest creations—­not bad by nature, but utterly irresponsible; crafty, resourceful, proud as a peacock and, like a monkey in the forest, wishing always to be noticed.  He cannot bear disregard; contempt makes him furious; and a sense of disgrace which would drive a moral being to insanity reduces him to a state of stupidity in which, doing good deeds for the first time and unconsciously, he gradually acquires consciousness of right and wrong.  It is Bancbanus who brings about this transformation in the character of Otto, who holds rebellious nobles and populace in check, who teaches his master how to be a servant of the State, and who, by saving the heir to the throne and praying that he may deserve the loyalty shown his father, points forward to the better day when feudalism shall give way to unselfish enlightened monarchy.

[Illustration:  GRILLPARZER’S ROOM IN THE HOUSE OF THE SISTERS FROeHLICH]

This play, a glorification of patriotic devotion and, in spite of the self-repressive character of the hero, as full of stirring action as any German historical play whatever, was presented on the twenty-eighth of February, 1828, and was received with applause by high and low.  The emperor caused a special word of appreciation to be conveyed to the poet.  How great was Grillparzer’s astonishment, therefore, when, on the following day, the president of police summoned him and informed him that the emperor was so well pleased with the play that he wished to have it all to himself; wherefore the dramatist would please hand over the manuscript, at his own price!  Dynastic considerations probably moved the emperor to this preposterous demand.  The very futility of it—­since a number of copies of the manuscript had already been made, and one or the other was sure to escape seizure—­is a good example of the trials to which the patience of Austrian poets was subjected during the old regime.  Grillparzer was at this time depressed enough on his own account, as his poems Tristia ex Ponto bear witness.  This new attempt at interference almost made him despair of his fatherland.  “An Austrian poet,” he said, “ought to be esteemed above all others.  The man who does not lose heart under such circumstances is really a kind of hero.”

Grillparzer was not a real hero.  But in the midst of public frictions, personal tribulations, apprehension that his powers of imagination were declining, and petulant surrenders to discouragement, he kept pottering along with compositions long since started, and by 1831 he had completed two more plays, A Dream is Life and Waves of the Sea and of Love.