agreed to accompany him, and his preparations were soon made: a little trunk, a few books, a pair of pistols, and five-and-twenty florins, comprised all his worldly store.

"At ten o'clock at night, a chaise drove up to the darkest gate of the city, where an approved friend of Schiller's had the watch for the night." "Halt! Who goes there?" "Dr. Wolf and Dr. Ritter, travelling to Esslingen." The chaise drove unimpeded past the open windows of the guard-room, out of the gate, and the heart of the young fugitive beat high with the joy of freedom. At midnight, the friends reached a height, whence they looked back on the city, and at the end of a long avenue distinguished the castle of Solitude magnificently illuminated, and glittering like a fairy palace.

In the brilliant light, Schiller perceived and pointed out the abode of his parents; and a sigh for the mother he had left, checked the exulting sense of his deliverance. But this, and all other sorrows were now forgotten in the bright prospects which in his mind's eye he had seen opening before him. The theatre at Mannheim, which had profited so largely by the representation of the Robbers, would joyfully receive its author. Another play "Fiesko," was nearly ready, and would be brought out within the year; a free benefit, or a considerable salary, would soon banish all anxie'ties of a pecuniary nature.

In Mannheim, however, the cold touch of reality suddenly awakened him from these pleasant dreams. The director received the fugitive with polite astonishment, and recommended an immediate application to Duke Charles for pardon, ere the gracious humour belonging to a season of festivity should have passed away. Schiller obeyed, and indited an epistle, which, though humbly worded, implied a sufficient consciousness of his own value. He represented, that he had been driven to despair by the injunction to refrain from poetry; that he owed it to his own talents, and to the world, which had set some value on them, to continue a career which would lead to his own fortune, and reflect credit on his illustrious patron. That, since he was the first pupil of the ducal school who had ever drawn on himself the eyes of the world, he thought himself the more bound to cultivate such gifts as might confer distinction on it. That the command to abandon an occupation which, while it opened the way to fame and honour, promised to add so considerably to his income, had been severe enough to induce him to hazard this terrible step, in the hope of touching the heart of his "sovereign and

father." After two days of anxious expectation, an answer was received from the "sovereign and father," in the shape of a message, conveyed in a letter from General Augé, that his Highness being now, during the visit of his illustrious relatives, in a gracious humour, Schiller had better come back directly.

The fate however of Schubart* was full in his remembrance; so this invitation to return into the cage was not likely to be accepted; and notwithstanding the gracious humour of his sovereign, he did not deem it advisable to venture from his concealment

He employed the period of his seclusion in the completion of Fiesko, to the appearance of which he looked forward as to a second triumph. The day was appointed for the reading. Iffland and other celebrated actors were assembled round a large table, and after a short historical explanation, the young author began to read. His faithful friend Streicher, the companion of his flight from Stuttgart, listened, and eagerly awaited the applause that was to follow. The very first scene would be sure to be interrupted by bursts of admiration. But the first scene was read, and no symptom of approbation followed. The first act, and still a solemn silence. The second act was read; and then the company rose, and without saying a word about it, began to gossip of the news of the day. One of the players proposed to amuse themselves by shooting at a mark; but before they broke up, the manager drew aside the friend of the poet, and inquired if he could be certain that Schiller was indeed the author of the Robbers, as he could not believe it possible, that such miserable nonsense as he had just heard, could be the production of the same pen.

Cruelly disappointed and mortified, the friends returned home; and the vexation of the author naturally burst forth in invectives against the envy and stupidity of the players. He ended by declaring, that if his play were not accepted, he would turn actor himself, as, in fact," nobody could equal him in declamation."

On the following morning, the friendly Streicher waited on the manager, with whom the unlucky play had been left for his decision, and was agreeably surprised to hear, that on a

*Schubart, the German poet, then imprisoned in the fortress of Hohenasperg, where he was confined for ten years by the Duke of Wurtemberg, on account of some writings which had given offence. He was not released till 1787.

second reading, "Fiesko" had pleased much better; that many passages were decidedly superior to any in the Robbers, and that the bad impression made at first, was mainly attributable to Schiller's provincial accent, and detestable manner of reading. With the joyful message that the tragedy was accepted, the friend hastened back, and kindly refrained from disturbing Schiller's delusion concerning the excellence of his declamation.

It was not, however, deemed advisable to await the "happy event" of a second dramatic birth in Mannheim, as some fears were entertained, that since Schiller had not returned to Stuttgart on invitation, measures would be adopted to enforce compliance. The friends resolved, therefore, on proceeding as far as Frankfort, although the state of their finances admitted only of a pedestrian journey.

"

With scarcely as much as would suffice for their bare existence for a fortnight, they left Mannheim, probably sadder and wiser men than they entered it. They wandered on, through Darmstadt, to the neighbourhood of Frankfort, and there the strength of Schiller gave way; probably more from the effects of the agitation he had of late undergone, than from bodily fatigue. Il and exhausted, he sank on the ground, in a forest through which they were journeying, and fell asleep, while his true-hearted comrade kept watch over him. It is impossible to help contrasting the situation of these forlorn wanderers, with the reception which in London would have awaited a young "lion," who, at twenty years of age, had filled his country with his name. It was but a few years after, that Burns paid his triumphant visit to Edinburgh, and found himself the honoured guest of countesses and duchesses,-the "observed of all observers." Whether the ultimate result be in favour of the position of genius in our own country, does not appear quite so clear, if we compare the sad end of Burns with the close of Schiller's life; who, though to the last poor enough in this world's wealth, was rich in "honour, love, obedience, troops of friends," even before the period the poet has assigned to them, and which indeed, Schiller never reached.

-A rest of some hours restored to Schiller strength to enable him to reach Sachsenhausen, where the two wayfarers took tip their abode in a little public house. Here the young poet overcame his proud independence of spirit so far as to write to Von Dalberg and solicit the loan of a small sum till Fiesko should be produced; alleging, in addition to his present

necessity, the harassing recollection of a debt left behind him in Stuttgart, which he feared might involve some friends there in embarrassment.

After anxious watching of the post for some days, an answer was received from the wealthy baron, declining to afford any assistance, on the ground that as the tragedy of Fiesko was, in its present state, unfit for the stage, the security was insufficient, and he must see it rewritten before he could say anything further.

This was the second lesson in the world's severe school which the youthful poet had received, and he appears to have made some progress. There were no angry invectives this time. He continued for a few moments standing with the letter in his hand, and then, without one passionate word, informed his friend of their disappointment, and began the consultation as to what step was most advisable in their sent embarrassment.

pre

It was determined to return to Mannheim, where they could live cheaper than at Frankfort, and where, in case of the direst necessity, the tragedy might possibly bring something from the bookseller Schwan. The disinterested Streicher gave up his own plan of a professional journey to Hamburg, and applied a second time to his friends for as much as would enable them to leave the place where they were. A little incident had occurred also which led Schiller to hope for another momentary resource. Under his assumed name of Dr. Ritter he had entered a bookseller's shop in Frankfort, and carelessly enquired if the " notorious" piece of the Robbers sold well, and what people said of it. The answers to both questions were so flattering, that, in the exultation of his youthful vanity, he forgot the hazard thereby incurred, and made himself known. In his distress he now resolved to try what might be, in hard cash, the value of the compliments he had received, and returned to his admirer with a poem, Teufel Amor, in his hand, which he offered for five-and-twenty florins. The thrifty bookseller, however, not thinking it so decided a bargain as the poet imagined, would give no more than eighteen, and Schiller, indignant at this marketing, pocketed his poem, and returned empty-handed to his patient and sympathising companion.

Help soon after arrived, in the shape of thirty florins from Streicher's mother; and the two friends left Frankfort in the (market-boat, and took up their abode in the village of Oggersheim, where Schiller set to work vigorously to remodel his

second reading, "Fiesko" had pleased much better; that many passages were decidedly superior to any in the Robbers, and that the bad impression made at first, was mainly attributable to Schiller's provincial accent, and detestable manner of reading. With the joyful message that the tragedy was accepted, the friend hastened back, and kindly refrained from disturbing Schiller's delusion concerning the excellence of his declamation.

It was not, however, deemed advisable to await the "happy event" of a second dramatic birth in Mannheim, as some fears were entertained, that since Schiller had not returned to Stuttgart on invitation, measures would be adopted to enforce compliance. The friends resolved, therefore, on proceeding as far as Frankfort, although the state of their finances admitted only of a pedestrian journey.

With scarcely as much as would suffice for their bare existence for a fortnight, they left Mannheim, probably sadder and wiser men than they entered it. They wandered on, through Darmstadt, to the neighbourhood of Frankfort, and there the strength of Schiller gave way; probably more from the effects of the agitation he had of late undergone, than from bodily fatigue. Ill and exhausted, he sank on the ground, in a forest through which they were journeying, and fell asleep, while his true-hearted comrade kept watch over him. It is impossible to help contrasting the situation of these forlorn wanderers, with the reception which in London would have awaited a young "lion," who, at twenty years of age, had filled his country with his name. It was but a few years after, that Burns paid his triumphant visit to Edinburgh, and found himself the honoured guest of countesses and duchesses, the "observed of all observers." Whether the ultimate result be in favour of the position of genius in our own country, does not appear quite so clear, if we compare the sad end of Burns with the close of Schiller's life; who, though to the last poor enough in this world's wealth, was rich in "honour, love, obedience, troops of friends," even before the period the poet has assigned to them, and which indeed, Schiller never reached.

A rest of some hours restored to Schiller strength to enable him to reach Sachsenhausen, where the two wayfarers took tip their abode in a little public house. Here the young poet overcame his proud independence of spirit so far as to write to Von Dalberg and solicit the loan of a small sum till Fieso should be produced; alleging, in addition to his present