Gentz, "lies not in the influence of this or that man, or of this or that party. It is to be found wholly in the absolute want of a central bond, and the excessive mediocrity of those who direct its chief branches." The emperor, invested with the prerogative and the disposition of an absolute monarch," yet blind to everything not within the range of stupid routine, could neither govern himself nor abide the thought of setting some one else in his place." Under such auspices, instead of the advantages offered by peace being sedulously turned to account for making

the Austrian population complains are evils that have been deliberately and of set purpose imposed upon them, from mistaken and noxious principles of policy embraced by their governors with the inveterate obstinacy of obtuse prejudice and narrow-mindedness. To the fact of this misgovernment on principle we have here the testimony of a man who, though shrewd enough to feel uneasy misgivings as to the eventual result, was yet himself so much under the prevailing influence of ultra-conservative passions and fears, that, in spite of his protesting monitor within, he consented to go along with Met-good the defects that had been recognized ternich in all the fatal windings of a policy which he describes with a distinctness that is at once his own condemnation and our instruction.

during the war, the government of the mon archy was left at the mercy of hap-hazard. The department, according to Gentz, which was least badly administered was the foreign The peace for which Gentz had sighed and office. Yet even here his praise is a very qualilabored being once signed, the French forces fied one. "Foreign affairs are not exactly quickly evacuated Vienna, and the emperor badly off in the hands of Count Metternich," returned to his capital amidst the hearty ac- he says. "He considers himself lucky, which clamations of a people still loyally attached is an excellent quality. He has talents, to its rulers, and whose loyalty was stimu- knows how to deal with men, and makes lated by the joyous feeling of recent libera- much personal exertion. But he is light, tion from the thraldom of a hated foreign fond of dissipation, and presumptuous." conqueror. Here was one of those lucky There had been but one voice as to the moments when monarch and people are necessity of at once reforming the army; brought by events and a common lot into a yet "the war-office remained in a state of utbond of intimate fellow-feeling with each ter anarchy." Marshal Bellegarde, who had other; moments full of favorable auspices, been intrusted with its duties, stayed away if men are but wise enough to secure them. on various pretexts; but really, as was surOf the manner in which they were used, mised, with the view" of being able to say the undimmed clearness of Gentz's mental that everything had been organized without vision has written down a curious confession, his concurrence." Thus the direction was as, sitting with his note-book before him in in the hands of some "ancient councillors the closing moments of 1810, he anxiously and a few generals,-either thorough nonenreviewed in thought what had been done tities, or worse than nonentities, the victims during this year of favorable chances, and of crotchets,-who did all they could to dewhat he then saw the men around him bus-stroy the stuff and spirit of the army." But ily engaged in doing. The dark coloring of the most important article in this indictment the picture cannot be charged to the artist's against the Austrian Government, and which, dark humor. At the moment when Gentz brought into connection with the now pendso unfavorably judged the condition and ing suit of rights between the Hungarian prospects of the Austrian empire, although people and the Austrian Government, is a somewhat suffering in bodily health, he en- piece of convicting evidence against the latjoyed a degree of consideration and confi- ter, is the one in which Gentz, without at dence in influential circles that must have been all sceming to disapprove thereof, declares flattering to his vanity. So great, indeed, the policy which the imperial cabinet had was the esteem entertained for his capacities, resolved to adopt towards that people. Let that in the capital question of regulating the it be remembered that at this moment the great money difficulties of the State the min-house of Hapsburg had had to thank chiefly ister of finance had made Gentz the particular confidant of his plans.

"The misfortune of this State," so writes

the loyalty of the Hungarians for its escape from destruction. In Hungary, the flying emperor had found a welcome sanctuary;

and there the appeals of his distress for suc- ing sections are undoubtedly those writcor had met with hearty response. With ten during the Congress of Vienna, where the same chivalrous loyalty which had so Gentz was intrusted with the duty of drawgallantly supported Maria Theresa in her ing up the procotols; and during the Condirest need, the Hungarian people, forget-gress of Karlsbad in 1819, where he lent ting many grievances, had again eagerly risen to defend their king against the invaders. In Hungary alone, of all the Austrian crownlands, had there been shown any general resolution to rise in support of the dynasty. Well aware of the great value attaching to Hungary, Napoleon vainly sent thither emissaries with tempting proposals, and even offered the crown to Count Festetics. That magnate acted but in the sense of all his countrymen, when he indignantly rejected their instigations to treason. Never, therefore, had a dynasty more reason to be deeply thankful to its subjects than, in 1809, the house of Hapsburg to the Hungarians, who, generously forgetful of their many grounds for complaint against it, had come forward with unwavering loyalty in behalf of its sorely menaced throne. Yet the only one clear, distinct, and deliberate idea, which, on the incontrovertible evidence of Gentz, in this record already written in 1810, was impressed upon the imperial government by the experience of the foregoing crisis, was the absolute necessity of making the subjugation of Hungary the corner-stone of its domestic policy. Hungary was loyal, but its loyalty was one strictly guarded by prescriptive liberties. The imperial government, restored to authority and power, was penetrated with the conviction, that to hold effectively for the future what had been so luckily won back, it was indispensable to break down and sweep away all such trammels as free rights might set in the way of arbitrary and absolute authority. "The conquest of Hungary," writes Gentz, "is felt to be the primary condition of all substantial reform; thus is it spoken of on every occasion : "words full of fatal import, to which contemporary events are now appending so striking a comment as to dispense with all need of further illustration.

without compunction the assistance of his powerful intellect to the unholy establishment in Germany of that wretched, wicked, and jealously stifling government, with which Prince Metternich and the German sovereigns repaid the people for their outburst of generous devotion in 1813. It is only with feelings of profound disgust that one can contemplate the abnegation of all noble and righteous principles in political policy steadily proclaimed by a man so brightly gifted by nature, as he slowly followed in the track of Prince Metternich's diplomacy. Step by step we see Gentz, under this malignant influence, stripping himself of all sense of higher duty, and looking upon the government of his fellow-creatures in a spirit of shocking cynicism and revolting depravity, as a matter of mere personal interest and personal amusement. "The aspect of public affairs is lugubrious," he could write, "through the mediocrity and silliness of almost all the actors; but as none of the blame rests with me, the full knowledge of all these wretched proceedings, and of those mean beings who rule the world, far from afflicting me, causes me amusement, and I enjoy the spectacle as if it were given for my private pleasure." A politician of this depravity, and so wholly dead to generous emotions, was worthy to have his talents employed in dealing the most cold-blooded and criminal blows at freedom and right. Also it is an appropriate ending to this shameless calendar of unblushing confessions, that the last entry should be one of delight at the share taken in what is joyously called "the greatest and worthiest result of that result contemporary deliberations; being the termination of the German Diet, which strangled the hopes of the German people, and proclaimed the asseverations of German sovereigns to have been lies, on the 14th December, 1819: "a day," which Gentz, in his diabolic cynicism, marks down with The length at which we have already dwelt capital letters, "as weightier far than even upon this remarkable book obliges us to pass Metternich found after his own heart, and in that of Leipzig." Such were the men whom by the consideration of its remaining portion, whose hands were left the destinies of revivwhich, though abounding in much that is in- ing Austria and youthful Germany. Without teresting, and too often painfully interest- compunction did they set about their work; ing, is less exhaustive and complete in its the upshot of their deliberate doings is now matter. The most valuable of the remain-pretty clear to everybody's eyes.

CHAPTER III. THE PRODIGAL SON.

Mr. Hadfield glared upon him with fierce, wild eyes.

"Don't whine," he said. "Be true to your nature. You were bold enough years back; there was no hypocrisy then-no canting nor shamming, but open, shameless speaking. It was bad enough, but it was better than lying. Do you remember it ? " "I do, father."

"Seven years ago! Open that Bible— look at the beginning of it-turn to the

THE old man shook very much, yet it seemed that he did so almost as much from anger as from age or illness. Indeed, he appeared to have acquired a sudden accession of force to enable him to play the part he had probably proposed to himself in the interview with his son. The paroxysms of temper in which, as Mr. Fuller had hinted, the invalid occasionally permitted himself to indulge during his illness, might be taken as so many evidences of strength fly-leaves-an old, old book that has been -purchased, however, at the cost of much subsequent prostration and exhaustion. But he had now nerved himself for an encounter which he had looked forward to as likely to be one of violence and passion; he was prepared to meet a son who had treated him with, as he conceived, the most rebellious defiance, and he appeared determined to re-assert his authority, and punish a grievous and shameful offence with all the severity that was possible, without regard to the sufferings his exertions might subsequently entail upon himself.

years and years in this family-that contains many, many entries of the births and marriages and deaths of the Hadfields. Stop there at that blotted page-there! That was blotted out by me, with this right hand, seven years ago, one fine November morning when you turned your back upon your father's house. See, there is a date affixed to it and my signature. Your name was written there, and the date of your birth-Wilford George Saxon Carew Hadfield,' born so and so. Not a letter is now traceable; I blotted it out when I cast you off as a son of mine; I placed my hand upon the book, and I cursed you with all my heart and soul; I kissed the book, and prayed to Heaven that my curse might be brought to pass. Do you hear, sir ? ”

Wilford hid his death-white face in his hands. Mr. Hadfield paused for breath a few minutes, and then resumed,

"Seven years have passed, and you have come back again-to see me, it may be, for the last time. I am an old man. If I recover from this sickness—and the doctors hint that it is likely to go hard with mebut if I recover now, I can expect to live in any case but a short time longer. The Hadfields have been a long-lived race, but I feel that I am very old and weak and broken. I am not the man I have been, I am not long for this world-I know it, and I don't shrink from the knowledge. Well, you are

He seemed bewildered at the old man's here-come back like the Prodigal of whom words and manner.

Steenie read to us to-night. Have you come
back now as he did? Are you penitent
as he was? Have you suffered as he
had?"

"Father, I am very, very sorry-
"Bah!"

been passed. In sorrow? in suffering? or
in the most shameful profligacy and sin ?"
Wilford cowered, and turned away.
"Seven years! A long apprenticeship to
serve with the Devil. You may well be
tired of the service-glad to come back to
England, to Grilling Abbots, for a change.
Perhaps, too, your money has run out
your poor mother's money. She had power
to will it to you, and she did will it to you.
I could not have stayed it, or I would. It
was yours when you were twenty-one. You
have had it-yes-and spent it. Has it all
gone ?"

ter.

"It has."

you looked to be fêted and caressed, for the church bells to be set ringing, and tar barrels lighted, and oxen roasted whole. That was the plan you had laid out for yourself. To each of us you had assigned our parts of homage and affection and regard for you. We were to welcome with acclamations one who had brought shame and dishonor upon our race."

Wilford darted a strange glance of suspicion at his father. He bit his lips till the blood came, but he said nothing.

"To be greeted like the Prodigal on his return, you must have suffered like the Prodigal. Have you been in want? Have

The old man gave a wild shriek of laugh- you been compelled to toil for your bread?

"I knew it." And then he added, with a triumphant air of discovery, "Another reason for coming back. Your money spent, you were pressed to come back home to try and get more to wring it from me by whining, or to borrow it of Steenie. Borrow?-another word for robbing the poor lad's wife and children. Wasn't this so ? " I "Father," said Wilford, solemnly, "I came back because I learnt that you were very ill-because there was a fear that if I was ever to receive your pardon, it could only be now. I am penitent, and pained, and very, very sorry. Do I deserve the harsh treatment I still receive at your hands? Granted that I have deserved punishment for the past, is it to be without end? For years I have been severed from my home. Is that to count for nothing? If I come back like the Prodigal, am I received as he was? Was his penitence spurned? Was a deaf ear turned to his prayer? There is duty owing from the child to the parent: is there none from the parent to the child ? "

Have you herded with swine, and been
fain to eat of their husks?
Have you
been like to perish with hunger? Is it
for these reasons you come home, poor and
penitent, to be as a hired servant, and to
have bread enough and to spare? No!
You have lived proudly and defiantly
enough-the first part of the Prodigal's
career, not the second. You have wasted
your substance, you have rioted, you have
spared yourself no enjoyment, your life has
been a list of pleasures. Profligate, gam-
bler, yes, and—I see it now, I did not know
it before, I own-drunkard!”

Wilford hid his trembling hands in his bosom. With his eyes bent on the ground, he spoke in a low faltering voice.

"I desire to make no excuse for myself. It may be that my life has been thoughtless, wasteful, wicked. I will urge no apologies for my conduct, though perhaps some could be found, and valid ones. Let me only say that when I learnt of your illness, it was my first impulse to return to England, with deep sorrow in my heart, with great contrition for the past, with earnest desire to amend in the future, and to deserve that pardon which I did hope you would be prevailed upon to extend to me. It seems good to you to believe that the seven years, the years of my separation from home, have been happily spent by me. Pray be undeceived. I have been most miserable; more truly wretched than I at one time believed was possible for man to be. If I have thus been driven again to madness and folly and sin, it has been indeed in a futile quest of forgetfulness. It seems to me that there "Or you'd not have come back? No, are things even harder to bear than want

"I like this better than whining," the old man said, in calmer tones. "There is a flavor about this of the old insolence and daring and shamelessness. It is infamous, but it is truthful, it is real. The hypocrite doesn't suit you. You don't play the part well. The frank scoundrel is more adapted to your kind of ability. And it requires so very little talent; it is so very easy to do. But I thank you for throwing off the mask." "These are very cruel words, father. Heaven knows I never thought to hear such from you again."

of bread, that some pangs are more painful for what he imagined would be the ripe than even the pangs of hunger. Father, if moment for his so doing. you ever believed me, believe me now; if you ever cared for me, for God's sake open your heart to me now-pity and forgive me."

"When I blotted your name out of that book, when I cursed you heart and soul, and prayed that you might feel my curse, and that these eyes might never look upon There was something very plaintive about your face again, I made a new will. These the tone of his voice as he said these words, estates are not entailed, as you know; if and sank on his knees at the bedside. The you have raised funds, therefore, expecting old man was visibly moved by them, almost after my death to get money to pay back in spite of himself; and yet he seemed to what you have borrowed, you have aided be possessed by a craving for some further indirectly in a fraud. Money of mine will acts of conciliation and humiliation on the never find its way into the pockets of your young man's part. How he had pampered creditors. I made a new will, by which I and humored and indulged in every way his bequeathed all the property I have in the eldest son as a child! How cold and harsh world to my second son Stephen, and his and cruel he was to him as a man! How children. On my death a small annuity he seemed to enjoy keeping him at arm's will become payable to you under your length, torturing him with taunts and accu- mother's settlement, - my interest in it sations. Perhaps he knew that something ceases with my life, but no halfpenny of of his own nature was in the heart of his mine will accrue to you. Stephen will beson-the same proneness to violence and come the owner of the Grange, and of all passion, the same unbending pride and fatal the Hadfield estates. As he never has obstinacy. He had summoned the young brought, so I am sure he never will bring, man to his bedside, be it said, with the full dishonor upon my name; his children will intention of ultimately pardoning him, and inherit after him, and his children's chilrestoring him to favor, and to his place in dren. To you, and to child of yours, no the household as the next inheritor of the single acre of this land will ever belong. Hadfield estates. Yet he had determined As your name is blotted out of that Bible, that before this should be, a severe lesson so is it blotted out of my will. So it will should be read to him, his imperious tem- die out of men's recollection, and be as per should be humbled, his obstinacy should though it had never been. You have lived be conquered. A man of strong affection disgracefully, you will die obscurely and really, he had yet succeeded in making this forgotten. So much as to my will and its entirely subservient to his pride, and to his provisions. But now you have come back resolution to assert himself as the head of his family. He was bent upon subduing utterly his son. Much Wilford had already done-more, perhaps, than he was himself you have done during your long absence aware of towards pacifying his father's wrath, towards winning back his favor. But the more the old man was able to exact, the more a love of exaction seemed to grow upon him. He could fix no limit to his desire for the conquest of his son. The more he felt his power, the more he was inclined to exert it. Each time the thought came to him that now, surely, he Wilford moved uneasily. He grew very might stay his hand, and extend his forgive- hopeless and wretched. He seemed quite ness, came a half-crazy longing for further crushed by the unexpected obduracy of his dominion over, for further concession on the father. He had looked for a different repart of, his rebeillous son. His conduct ception. Whatever wrong he had done in was very wanton, and cruelly vindictive. the past, he had hurried home full of affecHis excuse must be that in the end he had tion for his father-very sad and broken, pre-arragned to yield, and was only waiting and yet reliant upon a few kind words to

you are here-penitent, you say, and suffering; a roué, a gambler, but still penitent and suffering. Let me ask you, then, what

from home that I should remove my curse, that I should rewrite your name in that book, that I should re-invest you in your position as my eldest son and lawful heir, that I should make a new will? I am still strong enough—a few words on a scrap of paper would do it. Tell me, what have you done?"