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shrewd, accomplished of women," says Thackeray married, 1658, Ernst August, Bishop of Osnabrück, and brother of the Duke of Brunswick. This lady, called in our history books "the electress Sophia," is the direct ancestress of our present royal family. In 1672 her husband succeeded to the possession of Hanover, and to the electoral dignity. In 1714, a few weeks after his mother's death, her son, George Ludwig, succeeded Anne on the throne of Great Britain, as George I. This boorish, ungraceful prince recalled no suggestion of his bright mother, but seemed to have absorbed a terribly large infusion of the characteristics of his ungainly father. The English na tion specially settled the succession on Sophia and her Protestant descendants, while passing over the claims of all her brothers and sisters.

Her brother Edward, and his brother Philipp, were sent to Paris to "finish their education,” a plan which was not attended with happy results. They were probably glad enough to go, and to escape from the weary routine, from the intrigues, littlenesses, spites, of their mother's mock court in Holland.

Elizabeth does not seem to have been very successful in educating or in securing the love of her children. Her daughters, Elizabeth and Sophia, voluntarily left their mother to go to Kassel or to Heidelberg. In 1645 her son Edward married Anna, daughter of the Duke of Nevers, and turned Catholic; his apostacy being doubtless a serious sorrow to his mother. Karl Ludwig wrote very angrily to his recusant brother; but the life of Edward was thereafter lived apart from the main current of the career of his family. It is certain that Edward married in Paris, where he found favor and countenance, without his mother's knowledge or consent, and that this step and his perversion were a sore surprise to her. Philipp had a quarrel in the Hague with a certain debauched Sieur d'Epinay; and on the day following, January 20th, 1646, Philipp, assisted by his myrmidons, killed D'Epinay; for which offence he had to fly Holland. In 1655 Philipp was killed at the siege of Rethel.

In 1644, the noble Luise Juliane, the generous mother-in-law of Elizabeth, died. The conduct of Rupert and of Maurice in the civil wars had alienated the English government from Elizabeth Stuart, and, to some extent, she had become an object of dislike to the nation. During the late years of the Protectorate her

allowance from England seems to have been withheld.

One child only, her daughter Luise, remained to cheer the solitary mother. After some shadow of scandal, into the details of which history now vainly tries to pierce, Luise, one morning, was found to have left to have fled from her lonely mother; but a few lines informed the distracted Elizabeth—“I have gone to France, there to be reconciled to the true Church, and to enter a cloister." This was a heavy blow to the still fervently Protestant widow of Frederick. Luise became Abbess of Maubuisson; but hers was no austere, cloistered seclusion. She lived gaily, went to court in Paris; and had, as Söltl tells us, many children." Her conversion brought with it no retirement from the world, no asceticism of the cloister.

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Her last child having thus left her, Elizabeth could turn for comfort only to Lord Craven. We must now pass at a leap, and without regard to the tangle of petty events, to the Peace of Westphalia, which, in 1648, virtually concluded the Thirty Years' War, and settled, among so many other things, the question of the Palatinate.

The primary cause of that memorable peace was the thorough exhaustion of the combatants, and especially of the Catholic powers. Exhaustion only, inability to continue the conflict, could have constrained Rome, Spain, Austria, to grant toleration to German Protestants. The result of thirty years of wastefully wicked war; of a war in which oceans of blood were unnecessarily shed, and in which unspeakable human misery was caused, gave to Protestantism that for which it had contended at the beginning; and Catholic, Lutheran, Calvinist had to live together in mutual toleration, each belief holding its own as best it could in Germany. Henceforth the disciples of Loyola could not kill, oppress, or extirpate the followers of Luther or of Calvin; and worn and wasted Germany, which had been for so long the scene of civil war, the battlefield of ruin, was no more subject to the lust of Hapsburg universal dominion, or to the bloody tyranny of priestly rule.

Despite of angry protests, and of much "negotiation," Karl Ludwig could obtain no more than this - the restoration of the Lower Palatinate; while the Upper Palatinate remained annexed to Bavaria. Both Max and Karl Ludwig were electors; Bavaria being the eighth electorate, and ranking above Kurpfalz. The spirit

of Gustavus had been at work up to the close of the sad, long war. It is notice able that the Swedes were the strongest force then left in the field with power to fight. Wrangel (with whom was associated in command, Turenne) was the last Swedish general. He entirely overran Bavaria, and, that done, no barrier stood between his victorious army and the gates of Vienna. This crowning success induced Maximilian, and compelled the emperor, to agree, on equitable terms, to a peace. When Max demanded an armistice, he was, at first, held at Vienna as a Majestätsverbrecher, or traitor guilty of high treason; but it was soon seen that Max had not capitulated without very sufficient cause. He wished to stipulate that the Lower Palatinate, if he had to cede it, should remain Catholic; but to this the victors would not agree. To the last, Sweden did good service to Protestantism. When the terms of peace became known, the Catholics were furious; the Reformers were obstinate; but maugre all objections, necessity had dictated an enduring treaty. Maximilian of Bavaria died at Ingolstadt the 27th of September, 1651.

dignation at having to apply for her own
to her own son, and then the sense of her
necessities lends poignancy to her pite-
ous appeals. It seems that she received
1,000 guilders a month from Holland.
She writes to Karl Ludwig, August 23rd,
1655: "I do not ask you much. I pray
do this for me; you will much comfort
me by it, who am in so ill condition as it
takes all my contentment from me.
I am
making my house as little as I can so that
I may subsist by the little I have, till I
shall be able to come to you; which since
I cannot do because of my debts, which
I am not able to pay, neither the new nor
the old, if you do not as I desire I am
sure I shall not increase. As you love
me I do conjure you to give an answer."

In writing from the Hague to Prince Rupert on April 29th, year not given, she says (Bromley's "Royal Letters "), "The next week I hope to hear Louysa's justification against all her calumnies."

The years just preceding 1660, were times of trial for the poor ex-queen, who found herself in sore straits and without much hope of better times. The battle of Worcester was a very real fact; the Restoration was very uncertain. The And so, as Kurpfalz, though with sadly Stuarts were much dispersed over Europe. shorn territory, Karl Ludwig, the son of Rupert and Maurice were pursuing their the Winterkönig, returned to Heidelberg, adventurous careers as corsairs; and she and to his desolated, wasted, miserable was soon to lose Maurice, who was land. Even the great Library of Heidel- drowned at sea. Elizabeth's debts inberg had been transported to the Vatican.creased; and creditors became pressing. Karl Ludwig married, 22nd February, She was too poor to visit Rhenen. Wid1650, Karoline, daughter of the Landgraf owed, childless, friendless (but for Craven), Wilhelm V., of Hessen. On the 10th of and hopeless, her last years before the April, 1651, a son, Karl, was born to Karl Restoration must have been, even to her, Ludwig; and in 1652, he became the fa- sorrowful and lonely. ther of a daughter, Elizabetha Charlotta. When first he resumed residence in the Old Palace of the Palatinate, his sisters Sophia and Elizabeth were with him in Heidelberg. The new Palatine's marriage was not a success. He entered into an undisguised intrigue with the Horäulein, or maid of honor, Degenfeld, and his wife left him in indignation, and returned to her father in Kassel.

Karl Ludwig was the most hateful of the children of Frederick and Elizabeth. He withheld from his brother Rupert Rupert's inheritance. He would not allow his mother to come to Heidelberg, nor would he pay to her the money that was justly hers. He refused her her jointure, and would not give her her dower of Frankenthal. He was karg und geizig, mean and avaricious. There is something pathetic in Elizabeth's letters to Karl Ludwig. They express a mother's in


But the Restoration came, and her nephew sat upon the throne of Great Britain. Elizabeth desired at once to return to her native land, but Charles II. urged her not to think of coming to England. His comprehensive tenderness for women did not include any fondness for an aged aunt, impecunious, unfortunate, importunate. The money that he wanted to spend upon the female sex was required for Mrs. Palmer and others of that sort. Elizabeth was not to be deterred. had determined to return to England, and on May 17th, 1661, she landed at Margate, and travelled on to London. Her arrival was little noticed. Her old friends were all gone, and her popularity had vanished also. She had outlived the contemporaries of her youth, and a generation had arisen that knew her not. was slightly regarded, with an indolent curiosity, as the titular queen of a remote



country, which was all but unknown to Whitehall.

sess a touch, at least, of the poet; and we, in England, have been most successful in developing this ideal historian.

The England to which she returned was for Elizabeth a changed England. BeElizabeth can never have been beautitween her youth and her age stood the ful. Pepys, who may be credited with great shadow of the Protectorate, and the some critical judgment of female charms, mighty image of Cromwell separated her saw her in Holland when he went with brother and her nephew. Craven alone his patron to bring over Charles II., and remained ever tender, ever true. She records of the queen of Bohemia, that lived in Drury House, Drury Lane. From" she seems a very debonair, but a plain that mansion she removed to Leicester lady." Mr. Pepys hits the mark. Her House, Leicester Square, and there five pleasant, lively manner would last into days after her removal to the new dwell- her age, and the loss of youth would only ing, on February 13th, 1662, Elizabeth render the fact plainer. Four portraits of Stuart, dowager electress Palatine and her are known to us. The one by Hontitular queen of Bohemia, died. thorst, in the National Portrait Gallery, is German literature contains very many a performance of little mark or likelihood. works of authority and research about There are two at Hampton Court; one (No. the great Thirty Years' War, but no one 128) is a full length, also by Honthorst, historian has set his mark upon the sub-in which she is depicted in a dark dress ject. Germany separates in such matters more carefully than we do. She keeps poet and historian as things apart; we mix the two qualities and functions.

The great historian, resembling in that respect the poet or the dramatist, must, when depicting a personage, create a character. The hints of history are the equivalents, of the suggestions of imag ination. The historian must see clearly both outside and inside the person that he would portray, and must combine into an art-whole the complete portraiture, round and finished, of the hero or heroine of history. This task is the duty of every true historian, but it can, necessarily, be discharged but by few; since to fulfil it satisfactorily requires qualities which nearly rival those of the poet or creator. Carlyle is the one man in the domain of history who, through many absolute creations, really fulfils the ideal requirement; but yet another instance may be cited in Froude's picture of Mary Queen of Scots. In its higher aspects, history needs an imagination only just below that required by a great poet.

To piece out the imperfections of evidence; to read, by insight, the motives of action and the depths of character; to feel, by instinct, the passions that once fired a man or woman, long since dead, and but imperfectly depicted by the chronicler- these are difficulties which can only be overcome by a man of high and penetrating imagination, who possesses also a judicial power of criticism. It is given but to few to realize, with any objective force, the body, form, and presence; the true and living images of human beings that once existed; of times that are past. The great historian must pos

with a large ruff; the hair red, the face rather pointedly oval, with an expression of some shrewishness, caused, apparently, by sorrow. The mouth is thin and tightly compressed, and the expression is scarcely lovable. The other Hampton Court work (No. 765) is by Derick, a good painting, badly hung, and the youngest portrait of Elizabeth that is extant. The face is round, like that of James in youth, and the expression is happy. It is the princess Elizabeth, with all life opening in hope, when the young Count Palatine has crossed the sea to woo her for his bride. Honthorst was teacher of painting to the princess Louisa.

To the Royal Academy we owe those recent exhibitions of the works of the "old masters," which are the delight alike of the art critic and of the historical student. In the winter exhibition of 1880 appeared a portrait of Elizabeth (No. 127) by Mierevelt, which belongs to the highest class of portrait art, and which is the best existing portrait of the queen of Bohemia. It was painted in Holland, and represents Elizabeth at about the middle of her career. Beneath the veneer of femininity we recognize the ignoble features of James. The modelling of every feature resembles that of her father's face. He had very protruding eyes; they are seen, softened, in this portrait. The aspect is serious; the face is painted in repose, but is full of character, and the spectator feels that he stands in the presence of the true Elizabeth. Her hair is

red and the complexion is opaquely white. The lips are ugly, thin, and are closely compressed. The forehead is poor and narrow. Obstinacy, rather than firmness, is expressed. The shape of the face is

rows punished their errors and their deficient judgment; but neither duplicity nor treachery, even in such a distracted and immoral day, can be charged against them, nor can they be accused of cruelty or found guilty of tyranny. The impression that they leave, if thin, is pure. nature, if weak, was tender; her character, though shallow, was clear. They were nobly steadfast in the faith, and they resisted the temptations of interest to deny their religion.


oval, with a somewhat pointed chin. The dress is a study of a royal costume of the period. The portrait is full length, and gives the physiognomy of the whole figure. The bearing is that of a woman accustomed to play the queen; the hands are fine; and the totality of the being expressed agrees fully with all that we know, or can divine, of the superficial, though amiable character of the pleasure-loving but unfortunate daughter of the house of Stuart. This portrait is quite admirable and masterly. The face, in its still gravity, is not altogether lovable or attractive. tle, and accomplished carpet-knight. You retain an impression of shrewdness and vivacity, coupled with a mean intellect, and with a calculating heart.

Elizabeth and Frederick were light, trivial characters, and were, it must be admitted, somewhat shallow weaklings; but the romance of history may still regard with a certain tender interest their lives, their loves, and their misfortunes. Behind and around their careers stands the great portent of the Thirty Years' War, with all its crowd of historical figures, with all the turmoil of its important events.

To the general public in England, the Bohemian royal couple have subsided almost into mere names, vaguely realized through the mists of a by-flown time. They were set to sink or swim in a period, and among conflicting powers that were too terrible and too powerful for their small idiosyncrasies. Hence, in part, the pathos of their story. In India, in the country in which deadly snakes do most abound, the natives walk about with bare legs; and Frederick and Elizabeth had no armor that saved them from being easily bitten by the poison of ambition and the venom of vanity. Ag gression, to be successful, must be backed by mental power and by warrior prowess -they had neither. Ambition should be made of sterner stuff than that of which they were composed. Vanity impelled them into ambition; impotence reduced them to misfortune; but they bitterly expiated their faults, and their miscalculation of their own means or of the help of


James, owing to weak legs, had to lean upon the shoulders of men; Frederick and Elizabeth, owing to their want of mental and physical force for great enterprises, were compelled to depend upon the help of others, and they leant upon broken reeds - as on the German Protestant princes, the Union, James and Charles. Heavy losses and serious sor

Frederick was, at least, a gallant, gen

Elizabeth was graceful and gracious as princess and as queen. Their conjugal fidelity and true attachment render them models, as royal married lovers, in their dissolute century. They had vanity without ability, ambition without success. Their capacity, though but small, was equal to that of Ferdinand; was certainly superior to that of Philip II. Circumstance made the difference of success, and caused the revolution of their wheel of fortune. For many reasons we have thought it good to try to snatch them from a submerging oblivion, and to place on record a brief, if imperfect, picture of that English princess who was once queen of hearts and queen of Bohemia.


From The Fortnightly Review.

THE ANALYSIS OF HUMOR. THERE have been many attempts to define wit, but no one, at least to my knowl edge, has ever essayed a precise definition of humor.* This, however, is in reality less remarkable than it may at first sight appear. Wit, even in its later and transformed signification, is a word of respectable antiquity in the language. Humor, at least as used to denote that particular quality of ideas, or particular faculty of persons, which is now expressed by it, is a much later addition to our vocabulary. As long ago as Locke's day, to go no farther back, our modern signification of wit had been added to its older meaning of "cleverness," "intelligence," "ingenuity," etc. Wit," says Locke, "lies most in the assemblage of ideas, and putting those together with quickness and variety

*No. 42 of "The Spectator" purports to discuss the nature and composition of humor, but it will be seen that it is really a general disquisition on true and false provocatives of mirth, in which no attempt is made to discriminate between wit and humor.


seem to have accidentally and unconsciously stumbled on what appears much to resemble the very object we are seeking. It certainly looks as if Sydney Smith had at one time become very warm" in his search, as the language of the children's game has it; and that had he, in his extremely acute review of "Edgeworth on Irish Bulls," but carried his inquiry a single step farther, he would have lighted on the definition sought. Propounding to himself the question, "What is an Irish bull?" he answers it as follows: "We shall venture to say that a bull is an apparent congruity and real incongruity of ideas suddenly discovered. And if this account of bulls be just, they are (as might have been supposed) the very reverse of wit; for as wit discovers real relations that are not apparent, bulls admit apparent relations that are not real. The pleasure arising from wit proceeds from our surprise at suddenly discovering two things to be similar in which we suspected no similarity. The pleasure arising from bulls proceeds from our discovering two things to be dissimilar in which a resemblance might have been suspected." And he goes on to remark with perfect justice that "the stronger the apparent connection and the more complete the real disconnection of the ideas, the greater the surprise and the better the bull. The less apparent and the more complete the relations established by wit, the greater gratification does it afford."

wherein can be found any resemblance or | humor should ever have been formulated; congruity, thereby to make up pleasant inasmuch as the writer who has done pictures and agreeable visions to the most for the analysis of wit would himself fancy." The obvious imperfections of this definition were corrected by Addison, who observes that "every resemblance of ideas is not that which we call wit, unless it be such that gives delight and surprise to the reader." "These two properties," he adds, "seem essential to wit, more particularly the last of them. In order, therefore, that the resemblance of ideas be wit, it is necessary that the ideas should not lie too near to one another in the nature of things; for where the likeness is obvious it gives no surprise." Early, therefore, in the last century a definition which contains the substance of Sydney Smith's later analysis of the quality of wit had already been formulated. Humor, however, has only within the last two or three generations been stereotyped in its present meaning. Down till late in the eighteenth century it was indiscriminately employed in its modern and in an older and quite different sense; and it is not a little curious to reflect that many of the greatest masters of the humorous could not, in their own day, have been congratulated on their "humor" without great risk of misunderstanding. To Sterne or to Goldsmith it would have appeared but an equivocal compliment to be described as a humorist, a name which more often at that period connoted a foible than a gift. We find Sterne applying it to his friend Hall Stevenson in precisely the same apologetic spirit as Addison fifty years before had applied it to Sir Roger de Coverley: Whether this is a complete definition as a synonym, namely, for a whimsical even of wit itself-considered, that is to but harmless and well-meaning eccentric. say, in its emotional as distinguished "I have observed in several of my pa. from its intellectual effects, we will inpers," says Mr. Spectator, "that my quire hereafter; but accepting it provis friend Sir Roger, amidst all his good qual-ionally as accurate, let us examine the ities, is something of a humorist; and antithesis of which it forms a factor in that his virtues as well as imperfections the passage above quoted. Here, then, are as it were tinged with a certain extravagance, which makes them particularly his and distinguishes them from those of other men.' And in the same way writes Sterne to his friend Stevenson: "She (my wife) swears you are a fellow of wit, though humorous," where the dominance of the idea of eccentricity over the modern meaning of the word comes out with remarkable clearness. The philological history of the word "wit" has been marked by no such curious vicissitudes as this.

In one respect, however, it is somewhat singular that no precise definition of

the first point to be remarked is, that if the definition of wit has been correctly framed, it will follow that the bull cannot, by reason of its more limited extension, be the converse of wit. For though the essence of wit may be in the discovery of unsuspected similitudes under apparent dissimilitudes, it cannot be said that the bull is merely the disclosure of unsuspected dissimilitudes under apparent similitudes. The ideas which the maker of an Irish bull combines are something more than dissimilar: they are mutually exclusive. They are either contradictory in terms or physically incompatible in

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