omitted which could amuse the hours of Alexander, and testify the desire of his host-for such Napoleon was-to entertain him with honour. Little, then, did Napoleon dream that the frank-hearted youth who hung on every word he spoke would one day prove the most obstinate of all his enemies; nor was it for many a day after that he uttered in the bitter venom of disappointment, when the rugged energy of the Muscovite showed an indomitable front to the strength of his armies and was deaf to his attempted negotiations, 'Scrape the Russian, and you'll come down on the Tartar.'

Alexander was indeed the worthy grandson of Catharine, and however a feeling of personal regard for Napoleon existed through the vicissitudes of after-life, it is no less true that the dissimulation of the Russian had imposed on the Corsican; and that while Napoleon believed him all his own, the duplicity of the Muscovite had overreached him. It was in reference to that interview and its pledged good faith, that Napoleon, in one of his cutting sarcasms, pronounced him 'Faux comme un Grec du Bas Empire.'

Nothing troubled the happiness of the meeting at Erfurt. It was a joyous and a splendid fête, where amid all the blandishments of luxury and pleasure two great kings divided the world at their will. It was Constantine and Charlemagne, who partitioned the East and West between each other. The sad and sorrow-struck King of Prussia came not there as at Tilsit; nor the fair Queen of that unhappy kingdom, whose beauty and misfortunes might well have claimed the compassion of the conqueror.

Never was Napoleon's character exhibited in a point of view less amiable than in his relations with the Queen of Prussia. If her position and her personal attractions had no influence over him, the devoted attachment of her whole nation towards her should have had that effect. There was something unmanly in the cruelty that replied to her supplication in favour of her country, by trifling allusions to the last fashions of Paris and the costumes of

the Boulevard; and when she accepted the moss-rose from his hand, and tremblingly uttered the words, 'Sire, avec Magdebourg?' a more suitable rejection of her suit might have been found than the abrupt 'Non!' of Napoleon, as he turned his back and left her. There was something prophetic in her speech, when, relating the anecdote herself to Hardenberg, she added, 'That man is too pitiless to misfortune ever to support it himself, should it be his lot!'

But what mean all these reflections, Arthur? These be matters of history which the world knows as well or better than thyself. Que diable alliez-vous faire dans cette galère?' Alas! this comes of supping in the Speisesaal of the Kaiser,' and chatting with the great roundfaced Prussian in uniform at the head of the table; he was a lieutenant of the Guard at Tilsit, and also at Erfurt with despatches in 1808; he had a hundred pleasant stories of the fêtes, and of the droll mistakes the bodyguard of the Czar used to fall into by ignorance of the habits and customs of civilised life. They were Bashkirs, and always bivouacked in the open street before the Emperor's quarters, and spent the whole night chanting a wild and savage song, which some took up as others slept; and when day broke the whole concluded with a dance, which, from the description I had of it, must have been something of the most uncouth and fearful that could be conceived. Napoleon admired those fellows greatly, and more than one among them left Erfurt with the cross of the Legion at his breast.

Tired and weary as I was, I sat up long past midnight, listening to the Prussian who rolled out his reminiscences between huge volumes of smoke in the most amusing fashion. And when I did retire to rest, it was to fall into a fearful dream about Bashkirs and bastions, half-moons, hot shot, and bomb-proofs, that never left me till morning broke.

"The Rittmeister von Otterstadt presents his compli

ments,' said the waiter, awakening me from a heavy sleep-'presents his compliments—'

"Who?' cried I, with a shudder.

"The Rittmeister von Otterstadt, who promised to show you the fortress.'

'I'm ill, seriously ill,' said I; 'I should not be surprised if it were a fever.'

'Probably so,' echoed the immovable German, and went on with his message. 'The Herr Rittmeister regrets much that he is ordered away on court-martial duty to Entenburg, and cannot have the honour of accompanying you before Saturday, when

'With Heaven's assistance, I shall be out of the visible horizon of Erfurt,' said I, finishing the sentence for him.

Never was there a mind so relieved as mine was by this intelligence; the horrors of that two days' perambulations through arched passages, up and down flights of stone steps, and into caves and cells of whose uses and objects I had not the most remote conception, had given me a night of fearful dreams, and now I was free once more. Long live the King of Prussia, say I, who keeps up smart discipline in his army; and I fervently trust that courtmartial may be throughly digested and maturely considered; and the odds are in my favour that I'm off before it's over.

What is it, I wonder, that makes the inhabitants of fortified towns always so stupid? Is such the fact? first of all, asks some one of my readers. Not a doubt of it; if you ever visited them and passed a week or two within their walls, you would scarcely ask the question. Can curtains and bastions, fosses and half-moons, exclude intelligence as effectually as they do an enemy? Are batteries as fatal to pleasure as they are to platoons? I cannot say; but what I can and will say is, that the most melancholy days and nights I ever passed have been in great fortresses. Where the works are old and tumbling, some little light of the world without will creep in through

the chinks and crevices, as at Antwerp and Mainz; but let them be well looked to-the fosses full, no weeds on the ramparts, the palisades painted smart green, and the sentry-boxes to match-and God help you!

There must be something in the humdrum routine of military duty that has its effect upon the inhabitants. They get up at morning by a signal-gun, and they go to bed by another; they dine by beat of drum, and the garrison gives the word of command for every hour in the twenty-four. There is no stir, no movement; a patrol or a fatigue party are the only things you meet, and when you prick up your ears at the roll of wheels, it turns out to be only a tumbrel with a corporal's guard! Theatres can scarcely exist in such places; a library would die in a week; there are no soirées, no society. Billiards and beer form the staple of officers' pleasures in a foreign army, and certainly they have one recommendation-they are cheap.

Now, as there was little to see in Erfurt, and still less to do, I made up my mind to start early the next day, and push forward to Weimar-a good resolution as far as it went; but then, how was the day to be passed? People dine at one in Germany, or if they wish to push matters to a fashionable extreme, they say 'two.' How is the interval till dark to be filled up, taking it for granted you have provided some occupation for that? Coffee and smoking will do something, but except to a German they can't fill up six mortal hours. Reading is out of the question after such a dinner; riding would give you apoplexy; sleep alone is the resource. Sleep, 'that wraps a man as in a blanket,' as honest Sancho says; and sooth to say one is fit for little else. And so, having ordered a pen and ink to my room, as if I were about to write various letters, I closed the door-and my eyes within five minutes after, and never awoke till the bang of a 'short eighteen' struck six.

CHAPTER XXXIV

A PLAY BY COMMAND

'WHICH is the way to the theatre?' said I to an urchin who stood at the inn door, in that professional attitude of waiting which your street runners in all cities can so well assume; for holding a horse and ringing a bell are accomplishments, however little some people may deem

them.

'The theatre?' echoed he, measuring me leisurely from head to foot, and not stirring from his place.

'Yes,' said I; 'they told me there was one here, and that they played to-night.'

'Possibly,' with a shrug of the shoulders, was the reply, and he smoked his short pipe as carelessly as before.

'Come, then, show me the way,' said I, pulling out some kreutzers; 'put up that pipe for ten minutes, and lead on.'

The jingle of the copper coin awakened his intelligence, and though he could not fathom my antipathy to the fumes of bad tobacco, he deposited the weapon in his capacious side-pocket, and with a short nod bade me follow him.

Nowhere does nationality exhibit itself so strikingly as in the conduct and bearing of the people who show you the way in different cities. Your German is sententious and solemn as an elephant. He goes plodding along with his head down and his hands in his pockets, answering your questions with a sulky monosyllable, and seeming annoyed when not left to his own meditations. The Frenchman thinks, on the contrary, that he is bound to be agreeable and entertaining; he is doing the honours of La Grande Nation, and it rests upon him that you are not to go away discontented with the politeness of 'the only civilised people of Europe.' Paddy has some of