ferred to the aristocracy; with the Reform | sight than himself. Their success was, to a Bill it was shared with the people.

great extent, the result of their ignorance. Had not the British constitution, the British character, and the British purse possessed vast recuperative energies, our liberties, our virtue, and our credit, must have staggered, if not have fallen under the burden imposed on them by the Revolution. Fortunately for us we were strong enough to bear strong rem

But this was exactly the change to which Bolingbroke steadily shut his eyes. He had learned his political lesson before that change had been completed, and while its progress was still obscure; and he refused to go to school again. All the phenomena of the age, too, conspired to favor his mistake and to heighten the contrast he was so fond of draw-edies. During the process, those whose hands ing between the England of the Guelphs and were full, and who had no leisure to think the England of the Tudors and Plantagenets. about it were the best off. Such as were It was difficult to look at George the Second, compelled to be idle and to look on at the exand resist the force of Bolingbroke's appeal periment could not help perceiving the danto Queen Elizabeth: to look at Sir Robert ger and shuddering at the spectacle. BolingWalpole, the bad part of whose system lay broke would have fought manfully under the upon the surface, while the good of it re- new banner if once he had found himself in mained to be discovered, and not to sigh with harness; but lolling on his hay-cocks at DawBolingbroke over the memory of Walsingham ley, and fretting at his forced inaction, he and Burleigh. It was difficult, after the Whig gave way to political speculations which parminister had been nearly twenty years in take of the nature of day-dreams. He bepower, supported by organized corruption, lieved himself a second Cicero in exile, and to find a practical answer to the complaint gratified his taste by a great deal of fine writthat government, "by management," was as ing to prove that Walpole and his party were absolute, and might be made as irresponsible, re-enacting the part of Augustus, who only as government by prerogative: and that, in exercised absolutism more readily through Bolingbroke's own words, "liberty was be- the medium of a servile senate. But such ing undermined for fear it should be over-language as this was not natural to the man. thrown." It would be difficult even now, His brain was too strong, his intellect too but for the one fact which changes the whole masculine, not at once to have seen through complexion of the case, that underneath the the flimsiness of his own theories, had anyabuses of Walpole lay the germs of that sys- thing occurred to rouse him. As it was, tem which made England the arbitress of though not durable, his representations were Europe, while under the glories of Elizabeth very damaging at the moment to the men he lay the germs of that system which levelled most wished to injure. In their composition her for the time with the monarchy of Naples there can be no doubt he took great delight. or Sardinia. In the reign of George the Sec- In The Patriot King" it is difficult not to ond, moreover, the personal authority of the believe that his enthusiasm is often sincere, sovereign had undoubtedly sunk below that and that he believed in the possibility of realpoint, at which the public opinion of the day izing the vision he had conjured up. Plato's was willing to maintain it; and this fact, ideal State and Bolingbroke's ideal king are again, was calculated still farther to mislead in reality built upon one and the same hythe panegyrist of the old régime. Personal pothesis: that government among men is to hatred of Walpole gave reality and purpose be framed directly on the model of the divine to his visions; his lively imaginations read-government; that the highest wisdom and ily ministered to his passions; and thus, on all this class of subjects he was betrayed into fanciful flights of eloquence, on which, were he now alive, he would be the last man to rest his reputation.

goodness of which man is capable, are to be found, if we know how to find them, united in either one or some very few persons; that these are to be invested with absolute authority which mankind will always cheerfully His secluded mode of life aided to foster recognize; and that then at length we shall these illusions. But while so keen an intel- have the realization of the following picture: lect as Bolingbroke's was thus deceived, we "What, in truth, can be so lovely, what are not to suppose that the men who were so venerable, as to contemplate a king on opposed to him were gifted with more fore-whom the eyes of a whole people are fixed,

filled with admiration and glowing with affection, a king in the temper of whose government, like that of Nerva, things so seldom allied as empire and liberty are intimately mixed, co-exist together inseparably, and constitute one real essence? What spectacle can be presented to the view so rare, so nearly divine, as a king possessed of absolute power, neither usurped by fraud nor maintained by force, but the genuine effect of esteem, of confidence, and affection, the free gift of Liberty, who finds her greatest security in this power, and would desire no other if the prince on the throne could be what his people wish him to be-immortal? Of such, and of such a prince alone, it may be said with strict propriety and

truth

"volentes

Per populos dat jura, viamque affectat Olympo.'

"Civil fury will have no place in this draught; or if the monster is seen, he will be seen as Virgil describes him,—

666

et centum vinctus ahenis

Post tergum nodis, fremit horridus ore cruento.'

considers that governing men, the golden souls, are but few and far between; and that of these few, at least a moiety do not use their strength for good; that a complex government is, therefore, the one best adapted to the condition of humanity; and that truth and justice will be elicited rather by the collision of opposing forces than by the uniform action of one. Such was probably the opinion of Cicero. Such was certainly the opinion of that English statesman who most of

all resembled Cicero-Edmund Burke.

The style in which Bolingbroke commended these views to the world, was accepted in his own day as the finest production of the English language. And after all the changes of taste which a hundred years have witnessed, it continues to 'command admiration. His

fault is, that he is too diffuse, and, as it were, too rapid. He writes like one addressing the House of Commons, when carried away by his convictions. Few things that he has written would not be improved by condensation. But, on the other hand, his sentences “He must be seen, subdued, bound, chained, by themselves are often exquisitely finished; and deprived entirely of his power to do hurt. and his pages glitter with epigram. When In his place concord will appear, brooding he gives full play to his powers of sarcasm he peace and prosperity on the happy land; joy sitting in every face, content in every heart; tears an antagonist to pieces as if he were a people unoppressed, undisturbed, una- breaking him on the wheel. And he somelarmed; busy to improve their private property and the public stock; fleets covering the ocean, bringing home wealth by the returns of industry; carrying assistance or terror abroad by the direction of wisdom, and asserting triumphantly the right and the honor of Great Britain, as far as waters roll and as winds can waft them."

Set against this is the theory that the less we trust to individuals the better; and that the best form of government is that which works the most like an automaton; which

times, though rarely, rises to a strain of grave and earnest eloquence, in which he is for the moment what he would have had the world believe him always. As, however, it was the object of this essay to determine the position of Bolingbroke, not in English literature, but in English politics, we cannot enlarge on this topic, or give quotations in support of our opinion.

We have sketched the Statesman. At some other time, probably, we may recur to the Author.

THE old Orders seem dying out in Germany, "PICTURES from Pennsylvanian Life," being but new ones appear to spring up in their stead. poetry and prose in the Pennsylvanian idiom—a Thus, we find a ladies' establishment on the kind of mixed German and English-are forthRhine, where, according to the advertisement, coming in Philadelphia. We notice special "special attention is paid to French conversa- chapters entitled respectively, "Birth-announcetion," existing under the "direction" of "the ments," "6 Marriage-announcements,' "Allerlei Sisters of Christian Love, Daughters of the most vom Krieg, beim Dräfte [?];" "Von den BatBlessed Virgin Mary of the Immaculate Concep-tles,' "Vom Hehmkomme," "Speaches in tion," etc. Prosa," etc.-Reader; 8 Aug.

From Macmillan's Magazine. THE STORY OF SCHILLER'S REMAINS.

BY ANDREW HAMILTON.

OWING to his long illness and that of his wife, Schiller's finances were brought to the lowest ebb. Unable for mental toil, but depending on that toil for daily bread, the source of supplies was stopped for him, while expenditure had increased. At the time of his death he left his widow and children almost penniless.

tions of those who crossed his path in daily life.

In the early summer of 1805, Schwabe left Weimar on business. Returning on Saturday, the 11th of May, between three and four in the afternoon, his first errand, before he had seen or spoken to any one, was to visit his betrothed. She met him in the passage, not looking quite so cheerful as he expected. The reason was soon told. Schiller was dead. For two days already he

had lain a corpse: and that night he was to

Penniless, and for the moment, at least be buried. even in the Muses' favored city of Weimar- On putting further questions, Schwabe almost friendless, too. The duke and duchess stood aghast at what he learned. There was were absent; Goethe lay ill even Schiller's to be no public funeral; there was scarcely brother-in-law Wolzogen was away from even to be a decent private one. The cirhome. Frau von Wolzogen was with her sis- cumstances of the Schiller family were such ter, but seems to have been equally ill-fitted that every arrangement, connected with the to bear a share of the load that had fallen interment, had been planned at the least pos so heavily on the shoulders of the two poor sible cost. No friend seemed to have thought women. Heinrich Voss was the only friend of interfering. The funeral was to take place admitted to the sick-room; and, when all immediately after midnight, and in the utmost was over, it was he who went to the joiner's, stillness; there was to be no display, no reand-knowing the need of economy-or-ligious rite, and no convoy of friends. Beardered "a plain deal coffin." It cost ten ers had been hired to carry the remains to shillings of our money. the churchyard, and no one else was to attend.

The house in which Schiller spent his last years-its lowly roof is familiar to many who have stopped at Weimar-was, at that time, a sort of appendage to a larger house with which it was connected by a garden "no bigger than a tea-tray." But the poet was much in the garden: and, whenever any of the inmates of the adjoining house passed that way, he was sure to say some kind words to them over the railing. One of the daughters was at the time engaged to be married. Her betrothed, Carl Lebercht Schwabe, had in his student days in Jena, been one of an enthusiastic band of Schiller's admirers, who used on summer afternoons to march over in parties of ten or a dozen to witness the performance of a new tragedy in the Weimar theatre-marching back to Jena overnight. Having finished his studies and returned to his native town, where he got an appointment to some clerkship, Schwabe found in the house, or rather in the back-court, of his future parents-in-law, favorable opportunities of making the poet's personal acquaintance. Schiller's manner was always dignified and reserved, but abundantly mild; and he was above all things capable of tracing his mark deep in the affec

At that time, in Weimar, the tradesmen's guilds possessed, in rotation, the singular privilege of conducting funerals, receiving for their services payment that varied with the rank of the deceased. When Schiller died, it happened to be the turn of the guild of tailors; and the tailors accordingly were to carry him to his grave.

The young clerk's blood boiled at what he was told; regret, veneration, and anger were hard at work in him. He felt that all this could not go on; but to prevent it was difficult. There were but eight hours left; and the arrangements, such as they were, had already all been made.

However he went straight to the house of death and requested an interview with Frau von Schiller. She, very naturally, declined to see him. He then sent up his name a second time, begging urgently that he might be permitted to speak with her, and adding that he had come about the funeral of her husband. To which Frau von Schiller through the servant, replied, "That she was too greatly overwhelmed by her loss to be able to see or speak to any one; as for the funeral of her blessed husband, Mr. Schwabe

were far enough gone by when they used to sit in Rudolstadt and fancy themselves enchanted princesses waiting for the knight who was to come and set them free, till one winter forenoon two horsemen in mantles were actually seen riding up the street-their future husbands!

The coffin was carried down stairs and placed on the shoulders of the friends in waiting. No one else was to be seen before the house or in the streets. It was a moonlight night in May, but clouds were up. Unbroken silence and stillness lay all around. Occasionally pausing to change bearers or to rest, the procession moved through the sleeping city to the churchyard of St. James. Having arrived there they placed their burden on the ground at the door of the so-called Kassengewölbe, where the gravedigger and his assistant took it up.

must apply to the Reverend Oberconsistorial- | In the utter silence of the hour, deep sobs rath Günther, who had kindly undertaken were heard from the room adjoining that to see done, what was necessary; whatever in which the dead body was laid. For the the Herr Oberconsistorialrath should direct two poor women who mourned there, the days to be done she would approve of." With this message Schwabe hastened to Günther, and told him he had but half an hour before arrived in Weimar and heard of the terrible loss they had all sustained; his blood had boiled at the thought that Schiller should be borne to his grave by hirelings; he was sure that throughout Germany the hearts of all who had revered their national poet would beat indignant at the news; he was equally sure that in Weimar itself there was not one of those who had known and loved the departed who would not willingly re nder him the last office of affection; finally, he had been directed to his Hochwürden by Frau von Schiller herself. At first Günther shook his head and said, “It was too late; everything was arranged; the bearers were already ordered." Schwabe's manner was doubtless hurried and excited, not fitted to inspire con fidence; but one refusal did not daunt him. The Kassengewölbe was a public vault beHe offered to become responsible for the pay-longing to the province of Weimar, in which ment of the bearers, recapitulating his argu- it was usual to inter persons of the higher ments with greater urgency. At length the classes, who possessed no burying-ground of Herr Oberconsistorialrath inquired who the their own, the fee demanded each time being gentlemen were that had agreed to bear the a louis d'or. As Schiller had died without coffin. Schwabe was obliged to acknowledge securing a resting-place for himself and his that he could not at that moment mention a family, there could have been no more natusingle name; but he was ready to guarantee ral arrangement than to carry his remains to his Hochwürden that in an hour or two he this vault. It was a grim old building, should bring him the list. On this his Hoch-standing against the wall of the churchyard, würden consented to countermand the tailors. There was now some hard work to be done, and Schwabe rushed from house to house, obtaining a ready ascent from all whom he found at home. But some were out; on which he sent round a circular, begging those who would come to place a mark against their names. He requested them to meet at his lodgings "at half-past twelve o'clock that night; a light would be placed in the window to guide those who were not acquainted with the house; they would be kind enough to be dressed in black, but mourning-hats, crapes, and mantles he had already provided."

Late in the evening he placed the list in Günther's hands. Several appeared to whom he had not applied; in all upwards of twenty.

Between midnight and one in the morning, the little band proceeded to Schiller's house.

with a steep narrow roof, and no opening of any kind but the doorway which was filled up with a grating. The interior was a gloomy space of about fourteen feet either way. In the centre was a trap-door which gave access to a hollow space beneath.

As the gravediggers raised the coffin, the clouds suddenly parted, and the moon shed her light on what was earthly of Schiller. They carried him in-they opened the trapdoor-and let him down by ropes into the darkness. Then they closed the vault and the outer grating. Nothing was spoken or sung, The mourners were dispersing, when their attention was attracted by a tall figure in a mantle at some distance in the graveyard sobbing loudly. No one knew who he was; and for many years it remained curiously wrapped in mystery, giving rise to strange conjectures. But eventually it turned out to

have been Schiller's brother-in-law, Wolzo- | sorrow. On the Sunday afternoon, at three gen, who, having hurried home on hearing of o'clock, was held, in presence of a crowded the death, had arrived after the procession was congregation, the usual burial-service in already on its way to the churchyard. church. A part of Mozart's Requiem was performed, and an oration was delivered by Superintendent Vogt.

Thus we cannot say "rested "--but thus were at least put out of sight for many years the remains of Schiller. The dust of strangers had gone before him to the vault, and the dust of strangers followed him. The custom was to let down a coffin till it found bottom on something, and then to leave it; occasionally a little packing was done in the way of pushing the older inmates into the corners. When travellers came to Weimar and asked to see Schiller's grave, they were taken to the Jakobskirchof and shown the grim Kassengewölbe. Louis, afterwards King of Bavaria, was there in 1814; he wanted to see the coffin, and was told it could no longer be distinguished from the rest.

Twenty-one years elapsed, and much had changed in Weimar. Amongst other things our young friend Carl Schwabe had, in the year 1820, risen to be Bürgermeister, and was now a Paterfamilias and a man of much consideration in his native city. A leal-hearted Herr Bürgermeister, who, in the midst of many weighty civic affairs, could take a look backwards now and then to the springtime of his own life and the summer of German song, when all within himself and in the Fatherland had seemed so full of wonder and promise. Did he and his wife sometimes talk of the days of their wooing under the poet's eye, in the little garden? How much he had buried that night when he helped to carry Schiller to the tomb!

In the year 1826, Carl Schwabe being Mayor of Weimar, we must take another look at the Kassengewölbe. It seems that the bodies of those whose surviving friends paid a louis d'or for the privilege of committing them to the protection of that weather

hope of a blessed resurrection. It was the custom of Landschaftscollegium, or provincial board under whose jurisdiction this institution was placed, to clear out the Kassengewölbe from time to time-whenever it was found to be inconveniently crowded-and by this means to make way for other deceased persons and other louis d'or. On such occasions-when the Landschaftscollegium gave the order "aufzuräumen," it was the usage to dig a hole in a corner of the churchyard

Even at the time, these strangely" maimed rites" made much noise in Germany. The newspapers raised a shriek, and much,indignation was poured out on Weimar. And it is difficult altogether to acquit the town. Yet we cannot accuse it of indifference, for it is known that Schiller was personally more beloved than any of his contemporaries, and that, during the days which followed his death, each man spoke softly to his neigh-beaten structure were by no means buried in bor. Surely in higher quarters the zeal and energy were lacking which, at the last moment, prompted a young man of no great standing to take on his own shoulders the burden of redeeming his country from a great reproach. It has been said that respect for the wishes of the widow, who desired that" everything might be done as quietly as possible," restrained action. Alas! Frau von Schiller's desires on this head were dictated, as far as she was concerned, by stern necessity. The truth seems to be that then, then to bring up en masse the contents of as now, Schiller's countrymen lacked a cap- the Kassengewölbe-coffins, whether entire tain-somebody to take the initiative. The or in fragments, bones, skulls, and tattered constituted leaders of Weimar society were graveclothes-and finally to shovel the whole out of the way, and in their absence the worthy citizens were as helpless as sheep without either shepherd or collie. The court was away from home; and Goethe lay so ill that for some days no one ventured to mention Schiller's name in his hearing. It is believed that his friend lay already underground before Goethe knew that he was dead. The theatre was closed till after the funeral; and this was the only sign of public

heap into the aforesaid pit. Overhaulings of this sort did not take place at stated intervals, but when it chanced to be convenient; and they were hardly fair towards the latest occupants, who certainly did not get the value of their money.

In March, 1826, Schwabe was dismayed at hearing that the Landschaftscollegium had decreed a speedy clearing out" of the Gewölbe. His old prompt way of acting had