times, the harvest of this diligent sowing becomes manifest to the Nation and to all Nations.

"Strange as it sounds in the Republic of Letters, we are tempted to call Friedrich Wilhelm a man of genius ;-genius fated and promoted to work in National Husbandry, not in writing Verses or three-volume Novels. A silent genius. His melodious stanza, which he cannot bear to see halt in any syllable, is a rough fact reduced to order; fact made to stand firm on its feet, with the world-rocks under it, and looking free towards all the winds and all the stars. He goes about suppressing platitudes, ripping off futilities, turning deceptions inside-out. The realm of Disorder, which is Unveracity, Unreality, what we call Chaos, has no fiercer enemy. Honest soul, and he seemed to himself such a stupid fellow often: no tongue-learning at all; little capable to give a reason for the faith that was in him. He cannot argue in articulate logic, only in inarticulate bellowings, or worse. He must do a thing,

leave it undemonstrated; once done, it will itself tell what kind of thing it is, by-and-by. Men of genius have a hard time, I perceive, whether born on the throne or off it, and must expect contradictions next to unendurable,—the plurality of blockheads being so extreme! "

The character of such a King could evidently be summed up in a very different verdict from the decisive one of Macaulay; and it was of course the duty of an historian to give all due preponderance to the favourable side. But when we find Mr Carlyle casting all his weight into one scale as an indignant counterpoise to the former unjust state of the balance, till censure kicks the beam, we find ourselves still far, in the opposite direction, from a just estimate. A ruler who did so much to elevate his country, cannot be abruptly dismissed as brute and tyrant. But on the other hand, a "dumb poet,"

who makes a hell of his household, kicks ambassadors, drives his children to despair, and drinks himself into chronic delirium, is an equally anomalous character, neither does the epithet of "inarticulate man of genius by any means satisfy the case.

But the fact is that Frederick William was predestined by Mr Carlyle for a hero, and none of his elect can sin. It is not to be supposed that a member of the chivalrous order of St Thomas can have a weak point in his character. So, when he beats and starves his son, we are simply told "the poor youth has a bad time, and the poor father too!" Hence arises a new dilemma for our author, in trying to get his heroic theory fitted. There are now two heroes to be maintained in heroism, the filial and the paternal, but their relationship is decidedly unheroic. The paternal hero beats the filial with his rattancalls him frightfully disgraceful names-starves him, and keeps him short of money. The filial responds not unnaturally with fear, hatred, and suppressed revolt. Here is evidently something to be accounted for—a problem so difficult that most people would have been glad to let go one hero, leaving him to step back, at least with one leg, into the Stygian quagmire from which he had been so deftly dragged. But Mr Carlyle is of another temper, and is ready with a most astonishing device for supporting the heroic theory without abandoning his heroes.

It appears, therefore, that the paternal hero, the

sagacious ruler and wily diplomatist, is of a nature so simple and guileless, that an astute designing person can make him believe anything; and if he is instructed in a sufficiently artful manner to hate his children, the channels of natural affection are straightway dried up, and refilled from the sources of cruelty and aversion. Here, then, is a highly ingenious solution of the difficulty by which the designing individual who does the mischief suffers vicariously for the unnatural conduct of the paternal hero, and things go on, and even grow worse, without detriment to either of the heroic characters.

To this end we learn, then, that the double marriage projected between the English prince and princess, and Wilhelmina and Frederick, was for political reasons distasteful to the Emperor, who despatched a crafty emissary, Seckendorf, to Berlin, with instructions to gain the Prussian King's confidence, and then use his influence to avert the marriages. The Emperor at the same time gains over Grumkow, Frederick William's prime minister. These two, whom the historian forthwith designates as "the two Black-Artists," commence their magical practices at once; and as the diplomatists of the eighteenth century were never influenced by hidden motives, and always proceeded to their aim by the most open and public paths, the pair are never suspected by the guileless monarch to be exceptions, and operate with such success that we are told,

"for the next seven years a figure went about, not

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doubting it was Friedrich Wilhelm ; but it was in "reality Seckendorf-and-Grumkow much more. These "two, conjuror and his man, both invisible, have "caught their royal wild Bear; got a rope round his "muzzle ;-and so dance him about; now terrifying, "now exhilarating all the market by the pranks he 'plays."

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A strict logician-or indeed a person of merely plain common-sense-might here take occasion to inquire how far it was consistent with the heroic character to allow itself to be played upon with such singular facility by two Black Artists, and turned into a dancing-bear at their will; and might conclude that our adroit supporter of the heroic theory had merely shifted the dilemma by "logical hocus-pocus." Remembering, too, how it has been written that one of the characteristics of a hero is not to believe in "hearsays," but to see things for himself, we might conclude that in matters so affecting the relation between parent and child, this heroic attribute might be seasonably called into play. However, this never seems to occur to Mr Carlyle, who expends much virtuous and welldirected indignation on Seckendorf and Grumkow, expressing a sanguinary regret that they were not both "well hanged."

As an instance of how far Carlyle will go to serve a character of which he has a lofty opinion,

we will give a passage from his summary of the career of the Great Elector, Frederick's great-grandfather:

"Shortly after Friedrich Wilhelm, who had shone much in the battle, changed sides. An inconsistent, treacherous man? Perhaps not, O reader; perhaps a man advancing 'in circuits,' the only way he has; spirally, face now to east, now to west, with his own reasonable private aim sun-clear to him all the while?

"John Casimir agreed to give up the 'Homage of Preussen' for this service; a grand prize for Friedrich Wilhelm."(P. 349.)

That is all Mr Carlyle has to say about this proceeding. We have heard of this sort of spiral heroes before-men of tortuous veracity-principally in courts of justice; but we never before heard their circuitous proceedings justified with such contemptuous brevity. Henceforth let anybody who has a private reasonable aim know that, provided it remain sun-clear to him, he may advance towards it by any paths he finds most convenient, even if honour, faith, and honesty should be trampled under foot. Good news this for rascaldom-not such good news, we should think, for a moral Carlylist. If this is so, why does one of his "Latter-day Pamphlets " contain such tremendous abuse of the Jesuits, who say nothing worse-"spiral" moralists advancing towards a "sun-clear aim"? These are the obliquities which one would think must eventually destroy all confidence in Carlyle. Suppose, now,