strange as it seemed at the first look, became dearer and dearer, and at last took entire possession of me. For I entertained the idea of treating the story of Nausicaa as the subject of a tragedy.
It is impossible for me even to say what I should have been able to make of it, but I had quite settled the plan in my mind. The leading idea was to paint Nausicaa as an amiable and excellent maiden who, wooed by many suitors, but conscious of no preference, coldly rejected all advances, but falling in love with a remarkable stranger, suddenly alters her conduct, and compromises herself by an overhasty avowal of her affection, and consequently gives rise to a truly tragic situation. This simple fable might, I thought, be rendered highly interesting by an abundance of subordinate motives, and especially by the naval and insular character of the locality, and of the personages where and among whom the scene would be laid, and by the peculiar tone it would thence assume.
The first act began with the game at ball. The unexpected acquaintance is made: the scruple to lead him herself into the city is already the harbinger of her love.
The second act unfolds the characters of the household of Alcinous, and of the suitors, and ends with the arrival of Ulysses.
The third is devoted entirely to exhibiting the greatness and merits of the newcomer; and I hoped to be able, in the course of the dialogue (which was to bring out the history of his adventures), to produce a truly artistic and agreeable effect by representing the various ways in which this story was received by his several hearers. During the narrative, the passions were to be heightened, and Nausicaa's lively sympathy with the stranger to be thrown out more and more by conflicting feelings.
In the fourth act, Ulysses (off the scene) gives con-
