fell into his hands, by way of fair
reprisals for the robbery of the whole Palatine library at Heidelberg, had been
since transferred (as it thus appeared) to the Landgrave, by purchase or as
presents; and on either footing argued a correspondence with the Emperor's
enemies, which hitherto he had strenuously disavowed. The picture-gallery, it
was very probable, had been collected in the same manner. It contained little
else than portraits, but these were truly admirable and interesting, being all
recent works from the pencil of Vandyke, and composing a series of heads and
features the most remarkable for station in the one sex, or for beauty in the
other, which that age presented. Amongst them were nearly all the Imperial
leaders of distinction, and many of the Swedish. Maximilian and his brother
officers took the liveliest pleasure in perambulating this gallery with Paulina,
and reviewing with her these fine historical memorials. Out of their joint
recollections, or the facts of their personal experience, they were able to
supply any defective links in that commentary which her own knowledge of the
Imperial court would have enabled her in so many instances to furnish upon this
martial register of the age.
    The wars of the Netherlands had transplanted to Germany that stock upon
which the camps of the Thirty Years' War were originally raised. Accordingly a
smaller gallery, at right angles with the great one, presented a series of
portraits from the old Spanish leaders and Walloon partisans. From Egmont and
Horn, the Duke of Alva and Parma, down to Spinola, the last of that
distinguished school of soldiers, no man of eminence was omitted. Even the
worthless and insolent Earl of Leicester, with his gallant nephew - that ultimus
Romanorum in the rolls of chivalry - was not excluded, though it was pretty
evident that a Catholic zeal had presided in forming the collection. For
together with the Prince of Orange, and Henri Quatre, were to be seen their vile
assassins - portrayed with a lavish ostentation of ornament, and enshrined in a
frame so gorgeous as raised them in some degree to the rank of consecrated
martyrs.
    From these past generations of eminent persons, who retained only a
traditional or legendary importance in the eyes of most who were now reviewing
them, all turned back with delight to the active spirits of their own day, many
of them yet living, and as warm with life and heroic aspirations as their
inimitable portraits had represented them. Here was Tilly, the little corporal,
now recently stretched in a soldier's grave, with his wily and inflexible
features. Over against him was his great enemy, who