the ocean, and the mighty chain of her wealth shall be broken, with which she has so long bound the European world to her chariot-wheels, and mustered the nations, from the banks of the Tagus to the banks of the Don, to march beneath the banner of her coalitions, that then there will be no unworthy descendant to catch her mantle; and that the rich treasure of her institutions and character, instead of becoming the unrescued prey of Huns and Vandals, and whatever uncouth name of barbarism laid waste of old the refinements of the world, will be preserved, upheld, and perfected in the western world of promise.

SECTION XXVIII.

WALLENSTEIN-COUNT TERTSKY.....S. T. Coleridge.

Wallenstein. Ir there were yet a choice! if yet some milder

Way of escape were possible-I still

Will choose it, and avoid the last extreme.

Count. Desir'st thou nothing further? Such a way Lies still before thee. Send this Wrangel off,

Forget thou thy old hopes, cast far away

All thy past life; determine to commence

A new one. Virtue hath her heroes too,

As well as Fame and Fortune. To Vienna

Hence to the Emperor-kneel before the throne;
Take a full coffer with thee-say aloud,

Thou did'st but wish to prove thy fealty;

Thy whole intention but to dupe the Swede.

Wal. For that too 'tis too late. They know too much

I should but bear my own head to the block.

Count. Art thou in earnest? I entreat thee! Canst thou
Consent to bear thyself to thy own grave,
So ignominiously to be dried up?
Thy life, that arrogated such an height,
To end in such a nothing! To be nothing,
When one was always nothing, is an evil

That asks no stretch of patience, a light evil :
But to become a nothing, having been-

Wal. Show me a way out of this stifling crowd,
Ye Powers of Aidance! Show me such a way

As I am capable of going. I

Am no tongue-hero, no fine virtue-prattler;
I cannot warm by thinking; cannot say
To the good luck that turns her back upon me,
Magnanimously: "Go; I need thee not."
Cease I to work, I am annihilated.
Dangers nor sacrifices will I shun,
If so I may avoid the last extreme;
But ere I sink down into nothingness,
Leave off so little, who began so great,
Ere that the world confuses me with those
Poor wretches, whom a day creates and crumbles,
This age and after ages speak my name

With hate and dread; and Friedland be redemption
For each accursed deed!

Count.
What is there here, then,
So against nature? Help me to perceive it!
O let not superstition's nightly goblins
Subdue thy clear bright spirit! Art thou bid
To murder?-with abhorr'd accursed poniard,
To violate the breasts that nourished thee?
That were against our nature, that might aptly
Make thy flesh shudder, and thy whole heart sicken,
Yet not a few, and for a meaner object

Have ventured even this; ay, and performed it.
What is there in thy case so black and monstrous ?
Thou art accused of treason-whether with

Or without justice is not now the question—
Thou art lost if thou dost not avail thee quickly

Of the power which thou possessest-Friedland! Duke!
Tell me, where lives that thing so meek and tame,
That doth not all his living faculties

Put forth in preservation of his life?
What deed so daring, which necessity
And desperation will not sanctify?

Wal. Once was this Ferdinand so gracious to me:
He loved me; he esteemed me; I was placed
The nearest to his heart. Full many a time

We, like familiar friends, both at one table

Have banqueted together. And is't come to this?

Count. So faithfully preserv'st thou each small favour, And hast no memory for contumelies?

Must I remind thee, how at Regenspurg

This man repaid thy faithful services?
All ranks and all conditions in the empire

H

Thou hadst wronged, to make him great,-hadst loaded on thee,

On thee, the hate, the curse of the whole world.
No friend existed for thee in all Germany,

And why? because thou hadst existed only

For the Emperor. To the Emperor alone

Clung Friedland in that storm which gathered round him, At Regenspurg in the Diet-and he dropped thee!

He let thee fall! He let thee fall a victim

To the Bavarian, to that insolent!
Deposed, stript bare of all thy dignity
And power, amid the taunting of thy foes,
Thou wert let drop into obscurity.
Say not, the restoration of thy honour
Has made atonement for that first injustice.

No honest good-will was it that replaced thee,

The law of hard necessity replaced thee,

Which they had fain opposed, but that they could not.
Wal. Not to their good wishes, that is certain,

Nor yet to his affection I'm indebted

For this high office; and if I abuse it,

I shall therein abuse no confidence.

Count. Affection! confidence!—They needed thee.
Necessity, impetuous remonstrant!

Who not with empty names, or shows of proxy,
Is served, who'll have the thing, and not the symbol,
Ever seeks out the greatest and the best,

And at the rudder places him, e'en though

She had been forced to take him from the rabble-
She, this necessity, it was that placed thee

In this high office; it was she that gave thee
Thy letters patent of inauguration.

For, to the uttermost moment that they can,
This race still help themselves at cheapest rate
With slavish souls, with puppets! At the approach
Of extreme peril, when a hollow image
Is found a hollow image and no more,
Then falls the power into the mighty hands
Of nature, of the spirit giant-born,
Who listens only to himself, knows nothing
Of stipulations, duties, reverences,
And, like the emancipated force of fire,
Unmastered scorches, ere it reaches them,
Their fine-spun webs, their artificial policy.

Wa 'Tis true! they saw me always as I am

Always! I did not cheat them in the bargain.
I never held it worth my pains to hide

The bold all-grasping habit of my soul.

Count. Nay rather-thou hast ever shown thyself A formidable man, without restraint;

Hast exercised the full prerogatives

Of thy impetuous nature, which had been
Once granted to thee. Therefore, Duke, not thou,
Who hast still remained consistent with thyself,
But they are in the wrong, who fearing thee,
Intrusted such a power in hands they feared.
For, by the laws of spirit, in the right
Is every individual character

That acts in strict consistence with itself.
Self-contradiction is the only wrong.

Wert thou another being, then, when thou
Eight years ago pursuedst thy march with fire
And sword, and desolation, through the circles
Of Germany, the universal scourge,

Didst mock all ordinances of the empire.
Then was the time to break thee in, to curb
Thy haughty will, to teach thee ordinance.
But no! the Emperor felt no touch of conscience,
What served him pleased him, and without a murmur
He stamped his broad seal on these lawless deeds.
What at that time was right, because thou didst it
For him, to-day is all at once become
Opprobrious, foul, because it is directed
Against him. O most flimsy superstition!

Wal. I never saw it in this light before.
'Tis even so. The Emperor perpetrated
Deeds through my arm, deeds most unorderly.
And even this prince's mantle, which I wear,
I owe to what were services to him,

But most high misdemeanours 'gainst the empire.

Count. Then betwixt thee and him (confess it Friedland!)

The point can be no more of right and duty,

Only of power and the opportunity.

That opportunity, lo! it comes yonder,

Approaching with swift steeds; then with a swing

Throw thyself up into the chariot seat,

Seize with firm hand the reins, ere thy opponent
Anticipate thee, and himself make conquest
Of the now empty seat.

The constellations stand victorious o'er thee,

The planets shoot good fortune in fair junctions,
And tell thee, "Now's the time!" The starry courses
Hast thou thy life-long measured to no purpose?
The quadrant and the circle, were they playthings?
The zodiacs, the rolling orbs of heaven,

Hast pictured on these walls, and all around thee
In dumb, foreboding symbols hast thou placed
These seven presiding Lords of Destiny-
For toys? Is all this preparation nothing?
Is there no marrow in this hollow art,
That even to thyself it doth avail
Nothing, and has no influence over thee
In the great moment of decision?-

Wal. Send Wrangel to me-1 will instantly
Dispatch three couriers.

It is his evil genius and mine.

Our evil genius! It chastises him

Through me, the instrument of his ambition;
And I expect no less, than that revenge

E'en now is whetting for my breast the poniard.
Who sows the serpent's teeth, let him not hope
To reap a joyous harvest. Every crime
Has, in the moment of its perpetration,
Its own avenging angel-dark misgiving,
An ominous sinking at the inmost heart.
He can no longer trust me. Then no longer
Can I retreat-so come that which must come-
Still destiny preserves its due relations,
The heart within us is its absolute

Vicegerent.

SECTION XXIX.

DR. OLLAPOD-SIR CHARLES CROPLAND..... George Colman.

Ollapod. SIR CHARLES, I have the honour to be your slave. Hope your health is good. Been a hard winter here-Sore throats were plenty ; SO were wood-cocks. Flush'd four couple, one morning, in a half-mile walk, from our town, to cure Mrs. Quarles of a quinsy. May coming on soon, Sir Charles. Hope you come to sojourn. Shouldn't be always on the wing-that's being too flighty. Do you take, good sir, do you take?