would never have been appointed to even the most insignificant professorship, the would-be dramatist would never have seen one of his plays produced, nor would the painter have sold any of his paintings. If their names had been Mayer or Durand or Smith, they would have been distanced by a large majority of their competitors. It is a matter of doubt whether any one of them, as a private citizen, would have been capable of supporting himself and founding and maintaining a family. We must even make some concessions to imagine them with their actual endowments, but of course, different training, as capable of making good tradesmen, grocers, petty government officials or non-commissioned officers. Some of them at least, are gifted with some social and personal attractions. They are handsome men. They have grace in conversation. They could turn the heads of wealthy heiresses, and make brilliant marriages, which also requires a certain talent. But many of them are without even these qualities, which, if somewhat unimportant, are yet agreeable. They are far from handsome, are weakly and predisposed to disease and too unintelligent to keep even the flattest society conversation afloat for even a short time, and too desperately commonplace to ever awaken the love of a true woman for their own selves alone.
Each one of these princes in his own country holds the same exalted position among his contemporaries: Frederick the Great, the same as Ferdinand VII of Spain, Joseph II, as Ferdinand of Naples, called Re Bomba, Leopold I, of Belgium, the same as Louis XV of France, or George IV of England. They are all equally sacred, equally privileged and equally infallible. Their names shine with the same lustre upon the decrees of State; their commands are equally powerful and receive the same obedience. Every one bows in reverence before
