arranged, and can think of no one so capa- | at the same time assuring him all resistance ble of executing that task as her young and on the part ofhis men will be vain, for that handsome protege. That the lady should he himself has a far stronger troop under his feel no scruples in this business is at least intelligible; but that the baron should offer no objections to an arrangement likely to lead to something more than a mere catalogue of books, is somewhat staggering; yet never was there more bat eyed indifference than he manifests on the occasion.

own command, lying in wait just by and prepared to attack on the slightest signal. Of this he convinces the officer by taking him to the spot where his myrmidons are posted, on which the other submits to necessity, and surrenders up Werner. The personage who makes his appearance thus mysteriously and melodramatically, is no other than Nicolas Barenklau,or Bearspaw, himself, who although it has not been mentioned by us, has already figured in the novel under a different character namely, that of an Hungarian noble, enthusiastically enamoured of Henrietta. Notwithstanding he is aware that in Paul he has a powerful rival in her affections, this Nicolas

among other good offices, it was he who had caused the purse to be conveyed into Paul's bundle at the village inn. It should also be known that he is the brother of the Countess R., and that banished from his native country for political offences, he has made himself captain of a very numerous and formidable band of smugglers in the vicinity of Breslaw.

While the task itself gets on very slowly the consequences of it develope themselves rapidly; since Paul quickly becomes what the baron has only the reputation of being. This amour, however, does not prevent him from seeking private interviews with Adelaide Neuperg, who, with her mother and intended husband, General Braun, happens at this juncture to be at Vienna. These clandestine is romantically generous towards him, for, meetings are discovered, and Baroness Neuperg and the general apply to Seckendorff to remove Werner, but the minister only orders him to be put under arrest for a few days. It is not long, however, before Seck. endorff himself, discovering the familiarity existing between him and the countess, becomes Werner's most determined persecutor. The lovers instantly seek to save themselves by The success of Nicolas' plan for Werner's flight but are intercepted, and Seckendorff liberation, proves however of no avail, for he endeavors to prevail on the emperor (Charles is shortly after retaken by some of Frederick VI.) to have Paul imprisoned for life, and William's spies, and conducted to Berlin. kept to labor in one of the fortresses; urging, His arrival there is particularly opportune, among other accusations, that he had en- for the exultation the king feels at obtaining deavored to inveigle Adelaide Neuperg from so fine an addition to his collection of human her relations, and had been guilty of great specimens, entirely cures him of a fit of hy. violence towards General Braun. All he pochondria, in which he announced to his can obtain is, that Paul is sentenced to serve family and ministers his intention to abdicate in the ranks as a common soldier. At this and resign the crown to his eldest son "Fritz." juncture, Seckendorff proceeds as ambassa- Paul is forthwith, not only taken into favour, dor to Prussia, and has instructions to raise but treated also with unusual familiarity, and from among the Austrians a picked compa- appointed a sort of governor to the crownny of the tallest men, as a present the most prince, of whose conduct it is his duty to likely to conciliate the good will of Frederick make daily report to the king. For a while William; this monarch, though the very re- he discharges this office with tolerable exacverse of prodigal in every other respect, being titude; but as he grows more intimate with well known to have spared neither pains nor "Fritz," he becomes also less accurate in his cost in collecting warriors of gigantic stature, reports, and conceals from the father all that for which purpose he retained agents in other would irritate him against the son. He even countries besides his own dominions. Little abets the prince's attempt to escape, which imagining that he shall thereby be instrumen- being frustrated, he has nothing left but to tal in advancing Paul's fortunes, Baron, now effect his own, and at length makes his way Count Seckendorff, causes him to be enroll- to Holland. In the interim his father and ed in this new corps, giving strict injunctions Henrietta, who have been residing for some to have him sharply watched, lest he should time at Berlin, are filled with the utmost anxattempt to escape on the route, for the marchiety for his fate, when the Hungarian sudden. lies through Silesia and passes the neighbor. ly makes his appearance before them. hood of Breslaw. On ariving at a village in promises to discover and protect Paul, which that district, the captain of the troop received generosity obtains for him Henrietta's consent a visit in quarters from a stranger who offers to become his wife, especially as it is accom. him a considerable sum of money on condi-panied by the greater generosity of offering tion of his giving up Paul, threatening to to resign her hand should the disclosure of send a bullet through his head if he refuses; his history, which he now relates, make her

He

desirous of retracting her promise. As we must abridge our analysis of events, we shall only say that we afterwards find the count and his wife, and also the Countess R. and Werner, inhabiting a castle belonging to the latter, in the environs of Ofen, which the countess and her brother have fortified, and made the strong-hold of the insurgent Hungarian party. In the new character she here plays, which is certainly very different from that of a gay woman of fashion at Vienna, the countess shows no ordinary resolution. And if she has a good deal of an amazon's spirit in her composition, she has also something of Helosia's, though arising less from passion than family pride, as will be evident from the following extract.

We have only to premise that the governor of Ofen and his companions have just been secured as prisoners in the countess's castle.

"The dinner over, it was agreed that Werner, as being the most competent person among then for such a task, should immediately draw up a full report of the whole transaction, in the German language, in order that it might be forthwith dispatched to the Austrian Cabinets-Rath. He accordingly proceeded to the countess's closet, whither he was almost immediately followed by Matilda herself, under the pretence of giving him instructions in respect to the exact particulars that ought to be stated.

sent moment, the lovers had neither thoughts nor wishes in regard to what time might have in store for them.

"About an hour afterwards Paul returned

to the assembled male-contents, and read aloud the document which he had drawn up. *** As soon as the Countess was able to speak again with Paul quite alone she renew. ed their late conversation, endeavouring to reassure and convince him of the probabil ity of their enterprize being crowned with

success.

"Dearest Matilda, 'replied he,' as I stated to the Cabinets-Rath, this is already the twelfth war which Hungary has declared against Austria. Austria herself does not require to be told so; but I wish to impress the fact forcibly upon yourself and all your partizans, with the view of convincing you iess the struggle, and consequently how unhow fruitless are your exertions, how hopelawful your resistance.'

“ Unlawful, do you say?' exclaimed the Countess, with evident dissatisfaction, and in a tone of reproach.

"The term unlawful displeases you I find Matilda; nevertheless it appears to me a very mild one. Yet why should we now enter into such discussions; and quarrel about matters like these? Of what importance can it be, whether I sincerely approve or not what has been done, so long as my whole soul, all my wishes, my very existence are centred in you alone? Do you doubt my readiness to die for you, even could I thereby gratify only "So Paul,' exclaimed the countess, after the slightest of your wishes? But truce to they had embraced in a style very unusual at all reflections on affairs that have nothing political conferences, 'the die is at length cast!' whatever to do with our feelings towards "And it is now my duty,' returned he, 'to each other. In all other places you are the submit implicitly to your orders, and to leader of the Hungarian insurgents, and myshare your destiny.' self no more than your adjutant and secreta"Yet I plainly discern by your counten-ry,-the vassal who owes you unqualified ance that this business does not meet your obedience,-strict fidelity to your friends approbation.'

"Consult your own bosom, Matilda, and when you shall have put the question fairly to yourself, tell me if you feel justified in becoming the instigator of a rebellion?'

"What! Paul, and do you, too, like our oppressors, stigmatize our exertions in the defence of our holiest rights, by the opprobrious name of rebellion?'

"When subjects demand to have their rights restored to them, with weapons in their hands, it certainly does not look much unlike open insurrection.'

"But you yourself have both seen and heard what are their intentions towards me.' "And you knew that we were all ready to defend you to the very last. But now the die as you observe is thrown. All therefore, I have to pray for is, that it may be my fate to breathe my last upon your bosom.'

A long and impassioned kiss was the reply to this speech. In one moment, the letter to the Cabinets Rath, the affairs of Hungary, and the future, with its gloomy shadows of danger and bloodshed, and suffering, were all forgotten. Entranced in the full rapture of the pre.

and counsellors. Elsewhere I cheerfully perform all your mandates, and am ready to lay down my life in your service. But here you are my own Matilda -mine by all the ties of rapturous love. Here I breathe only the most devoted passion,-feel only the transport of being beloved with a fervour equal to my own. Here I have no other thought, no wish beyond Matilda. Did you fully participate in these feelings, you would not have your mind engaged with thoughts of Austria and the dangers that menace us thence.

"And is it from you Paul, that I am forced to hear this! Ungrateful man! Is it thus that you pretend to judge of a woman's feelings?-of that depth of tenderness and pas sion that fills her breast? Who knows how soon I may have cause to reproach you with infidelity or indifference towards me! But never will you experience any change of sentiment on my part.'

"Matilda, what an idea! Can you then really allow yourself to imagine —.'

แ 'Enough, Paul. You are a man; men have hearts and feelings differently framed from ours; and so far you are to be excused.

But you men have no idea of the enthusiasm, torment yourself by fancying the possibility of love, save in enjoyment. Devoted as you of my becoming estranged. Why not then fancy yourselves to be, let but some fresh consent to what would effectually set both of conquest present itself, and you are ready to us quite at ease on that point. Were you to pursue it instantly, without the slightest com- agree to even a secret marriage between punction: nay, perhaps, immediately after- us wards return to your former object, and breathe out protestations of unchangeable attachment.'

You

"That subject again!' exclaimed the Countess in a tone of displeasure, at the same time disengaging herself from his arms. 'What "And you women,' returned Paul, with singular and cold beings you men are. some warmth, are incapable of judging of the never know when to be satisfied. What is it intenseness and impetuosity of feeling which you want, Paul? What is it you would fain animates us men. Nature has bestowed on persuade me to do? Were I not fully convinyou less susceptibility-passions not only less ced that your solicitation arises merely out of energetic, but more transient. To feed your the prejudices in which you have been vanity by seeing a swarm of admirers flutter- brought up, I should begin to suspect that it ing round you, this is the triumph dearest to was dictated by interested and ambitious moa woman's soul. Ever cager to catch at emp- tives, if not by somethng worse. Hear my rety toys and painted baubles, she has little ply. Hitherto I have always put a stop to sympathy for the sincere homage of the your importune and idle request, either by heart she neither values nor comprehends, jesting or caresses; but now, when our oppobut treats it with incredulous levity. Nay, sition to Austria opens a new career to us, instead of endeavoring to repair the mischief when, perhaps within a brief week, either she has wrought, by compasionating the vic- you or myself may fall in the contest with tim of her cruel thoughtlessness, she leaves our foes, I am compelled to tell you decidhim to his fate, and to despair.' edly, and without reserve, that a marriage be"And pray, Paul, whom are you describ-tween us is impossible. My person, my love, ing, a woman, or a monster? Or are you of opinion that picture at all resembles me?' "Oh! no, no! Pardon me, Matilda, my own enchanting Matilda, I entreat you to pardon me.'

"Away with these reproachful forebodings. Is it possible that you can doubt the continuance of the passion I entertain for you? Is it possible that I can ever become changed towards you? Even could I cease to love, were any traitor feeling of inconstancy to harbour itself in my bosom, should I not still remain bound to you by every sacred tie, both of honour and gratitude, as strongly as by the most passionate love?'

"Paul,' replied the Countess, with an expression of seriousness, 'little do you comprehend either the sentiment of love, or the heart of a woman. If you can feel that you are capable of remaining attached to me out of gratitude alone, you are already estranged from me in your soul-already become more than indifferent. Love asks not gratitude in return, but equal love. There is no other sentiment which can make up for the want of it, or its place. To my love for you I have sacrificed all. All I seek in repayment isyour gratitude?—the word chills me:-your life? No, your love. It is this, and this alone, that can satisfy me.'

my actions, are my own; for them I am res. ponsible to no one: but my name, Paul, that belongs to my country and iny ancestors. Believe me, I am actuated neither by ambition, nor by selfishness. No, it is a duty even superior to that of love; a duty towards the laws of my conntry; towards the honour of my forefathers. And should you, Paul, ever have to choose between the claims of your country and those of love, sacrifice the latter to the former, and discharge your duty to your fatherland, though at the cost of all besides.'

"Both continued for some minutes in silence. A feeling perfectly new, and for which he could not account, took possession of Paul. It was astonishment at the loftiness of spirit displayed by the Countess; yet it served rather to chill him. Nor could he help confessing to himself, that it is better for a woman to remain a woman; and that it would have been infinitely more flattering to him, had the Countess, after so many more important sacrifices prevailed upon herself to sacrifice her haughty pride to her passion."

The castle is besieged next day by the Austrian General Braun, and after a dreadful resistance taken by assault. The count loses his life, and both his sister and Werner are wounded; the former mortally. The "Paul took advantage of this moment of high-wrought passion and tenderness, to scene now changes to Berlin, where Freder. touch upon a matter of deep interest to them ick II. has just succeeded to the throne; his both. Frequently before now had he ventur- character and mode of living are delineated ed to open the subject to Matilda, but on each at considerable length, with anecdotes of occasion had been able to obtain no other re- many of his associates, including Voltaire; ply than kisses, which cut short his argu--all which makes a gap in the story. Af ments. Yet, brought up in the rules of strict ter serving some time in the Hungarian morality, he could not help, notwithstanding Guards of Maria Theresa, to whom he had all the felicity he experienced in their mutual love, feeling disquieted when he reflected that been recommended by the countess, who is it had not received the sanction of the church. related to have expired in the princess' arms, "Dearest Matilda,' said he, "you often Werner arrives at Berlin, where he is ta

ken into the closest favour by the king, his, selves the passive playthings of circumstanformer companion, and becomes his constant ces. Of artistical power this romance, tamilitary associate during the Seven Years' ken generally, exhibits a very mediocre War. The various adventures he now en- grade; it being a novel merely of incident counters we shall pass over altogether, con- and anecdote, with scarcely any attempt at tenting ourselves with stating that he at either character or passion. Indeed, the length falls into the hands of the Russians at hero boasts no particular merit, unless that the battle of Zorndorff, and is carried prison- of being "a respectable tall youth," so freer to St. Petersburg. He is, however, not quently put forward by advertising footmen. only treated with all the consideration due to Nevertheless, he cannot be charged with bethe high military rank he has now attained, ing too perfect-one of those faultless but is noticed in the most flattering manner monsters of propriety whose very excellence by the Empress Elizabeth, and by the grand- renders them intolerable bores. In truth, duke and his consort, afterwards Catherine his good qualities are mixed with consideraII., who is here described in all the lustre ble alloy; for nothwithstanding the pious of youthful beauty. The grand-duke being education he has received, he is decidedly a a warm admirer of Fredrick, the death of libertine in practice, if not in principle; and the empress causes a termination of hostili- his criminal errors in this respect are very ties, and Paul returns to his former master. gratuitously paraded by the author, not only Fast verging towards the mature age of fif- in scenes that are quite parasitical to the ty, a period of life when a man is quite unfit story, but in situations of such imminent for service as the hero of a novel, nothing hazard, that none but a debauchee would remains for him but to retire to the chateau of yield to temptation at such time. Thus, Blankenthal, which has been bestowed up just after being liberated by Nicholas, when on him by Frederick, and there settle tran- pursuing his way without knowing in what quilly for the remainder of his days. To be direction he is journeying, he is offered an so disposed of, however, without previously asylum for the night by a poor widow; in qualifying by undergoing the ceremony of return for which charitable act, he unscrumatrimony would be contrary to all legiti- pulously corrupts the honour of her daughmate precedent. Accordingly, he is married, but at the pains of no longer courtship than a mere meeting and explanation; for on his arrival at Blankenthal he is startled at beholding the Adelaide of his first love restored to him unchanged, in the budding beauty between girlhood and womanhood. This fair vision turns out to be the daughter of Adelaide and General Braun, who, both her parents being dead, is residing with at sister of her father's at Blankenthal. The result, which has already been announced, is summed up in a couple of pages; and the romance concludes with Werner's obtaining for a bride one to whose mother he would willingly have united himself full fifteen years before his second Adelaide was born!

For this very extraordinary and unexpected conclusion the author comprises his apology in the single word sudba (fate!) We should rather ascribe it to the perplexity into which he had brought himself by his own want of dexterity; for he seems to have written without any settled plan, trusting entirely to the chapter of accidents for filling up his narrative, as well as disposing of his actors. Besides this, he seems to have composed his story equally at random in an. other respect, and without sentiment or instructive tendency of any kind, unless we can bring ourselves to fancy it was his intention to show fate, and not conduct, as the arbiter of human destiny, and men them.

ter. To say the least, all this is in very bad taste: for, in the first place, such conduct. bespeaks a hardened profligacy at variance with the general character, and almost destroys our sympathy for the fugitive; in the next, this and other scenes of a similar description serve only to disgust the decent reader, without satisfying the more depraved.

Although justly dissatisfied with Zotov's romance for the reason just mentioned,and for its defective story and want of connected interest, we must confess that it engaged our attention from beginning to end. Yet even here we have some misgivings as to its power,and suspect that had it not been in the Russian language and the production of a Russian author we might possibly have laid it aside as mediocre if not tedious. In fact it is less attractive than it would have been had the story and actors likewise belonged to Russia, since as far as they are concerned it reads like an imitation, if not exactly a translation, from the German. Unless they display very superior talent we have no great predilection for works of fiction, either dramatic or narrative, the scene of which is laid in a different country from the writer's own. Whatever ability may be shown in the general conception, there is always something that unpleasantly reminds us, from time to time, that the author is not at home; that, even where costume is tolerably adhered to, betrays the constraint produced by an imper

fect acquaintance, and imparts to the whole on the boards full forty years. It is a thou the sickly feebleness of an exotic. Rather sand pities we should be so exceedingly than such transplantations we would have thin-skinned and so readily take alarm at the translations; the debilitation produced by character. It it time for us to understand least indication of what looks like living transfusion from one language to another be- that really faithful delineation does not con. ing-for those who cannot read the originals, sist in copying merely the broader and more preferable to the selection of a foreign sub- palpable traits, but in exhibiting also much ject. Few of our readers require to be told that shall be specific both in mode and phywhat strange work French authors make siognomy, and at the same time bear the when they lay the scene of their novels in stamp of nationality; so as to produce a this country, and undertake to represent make us say to ourselves, we have met some strong impression by its graphic power, and English society, manners, and feelings. The Italian dramatists, whenever they at- the system we ought to adopt, as conformaone whom this exactly resembles. Such is tempt the same are a degree more absurd, ble to nature and really instructive. But we, frequently giving us the most farcical cari- on the contrary, seem to have converted the catures, or else pictures only not contradic. theatre into an empty rattle for grown up tory to truth because destitute of the slightest babies, forgetting that it ought to be a school attempt at it. If truth be occasionally reach- where an audience may be tutored while ed, it is but by accident and in one or two they go only to be amused." casual features, with which all the rest is out of keeping.

A writer in the Sovremennik, (one of the publications whose title is perfixed to this article,) is nearly of the same opinion as ourselves; for in speaking of the present state of the drama, where opera and ballet reign paramount, he says,

Much of this would apply to other countries as well as Russia, for the comedy which reflects the actual habits and interests of society has been expelled from the stage to take refuge in novels. Whether this change be not ascribable to that which has taken place in the habits of society itself, is a question for whose solution we may refer to what was said on the subject of the drama in our 36th Number. Certain it is that even those who do show any power and talent in writing for the stage resort to other times and other lands for subjects. Had M. Zotov not played truant after a similar fashion, but sought his materials on native ground, he would have produced a more interesting story, simply because bearing less resemblance to one of stale pattern and foreign manufacture.

"Most heartily do I pity the condition of our Russian actors, who live amidst a fresh and active population, exhibiting such diversified shades of character and manners; yet instead of having to look at them for models, are obliged to personate beings whom they never encountered off the stage. What can they possibly make of the fantastic heroes it is their lot to represent; creatures who are neither Frenchmen nor Germans, but mere puppets, vulgar counterfeits of humanity, destitute both of physiognomy and emotion. How can it be expected that talent should We should therefore unquestionably deeither display itself or be nourished in such cide in preference for the historical romance a school? We are Russians: for heaven's from which a specimen of considerable sake then give us Russian characters. Let length is introduced in the Sovremennik. us behold our own follies, our own foi- Its title is "Prokopious Liapunov, or the bles, our own perversities. Drag these on the stage that they may there meet with the Times of the Interregnum," and its author is ridicule they so well merit. And the autho- a lady who has previously appeared before rity of ridicule is most powerful: while it the public as a novelist in her Kniaz takes from offenders neither life nor proper- Skopin Shuisky," to which this new roty, it punishes by humbling, and making mance is intended as a sequel. Not having them feel like a haunted hare with the dogs seen the former work we can judge of her just behind her. We, however, have so drill talent only by the portion here introduced; ed ourselves by the pattern of French and but if we may estimate the whole from this other exotic scenes that we are now positive-detached fragment, we should not scruple to ly scared at the idea of producing any thing strictly our own. Should any one make the say that it possesses strong interest, and exattempt and set before us a well drawn re- hibits much dramatic power. The most semblance of character such as we are ac- prominent character in the scenes selected, customed to, we instantly ask if it be not a is the Princess Catherine Gregorievna Skopersonal satire, and for whom it is intended; pin Shuisky, who, resembling Lady Macand this merely because it is not one of those beth,in order to pave the way for her husband hackneyed theatrical tyrants, bribe-taking judges, or other stale worn-out personages to the throne, has removed Prince Michael which authors now grown toothless, parade by poison. The better to elude suspicion before us just as they do their eternal she pays a formal visit of condolence to the figuranti-some of whom must have capered prince's mother and widow, the latter of

VOL. XXI.

6