nt better than they spoke or
acted. With the Marquis of Posa, he had a more genial task. This Posa,
we can easily perceive, is the representative of Schiller himself. The
ardent love of men, which forms his ruling passion, was likewise the
constant feeling of his author; the glowing eloquence with which he
advocates the cause of truth, and justice, and humanity, was such as
Schiller too would have employed in similar circumstances. In some
respects, Posa is the chief character of the piece; there is a
preeminent magnificence in his object, and in the faculties and
feelings with which he follows it. Of a splendid intellect, and a
daring devoted heart, his powers are all combined upon a single
purpose. Even his friendship for Carlos, grounded on the likeness of
their minds, and faithful as it is, yet seems to merge in this
paramount emotion, zeal for the universal interests of man. Aiming,
with all his force of thought and action, to advance the happiness and
best rights of his fellow-creatures; pursuing this noble aim with the
skill and dignity which it deserves, his mind is at once unwearied,
earnest and serene. He is another Carlos, but somewhat older, more
experienced, and never crossed in hopeless love. There is a calm
strength in Posa, which no accident of fortune can shake. Whether
cheering the forlorn Carlos into new activity; whether lifting up his
voice in the ear of tyrants and inquisitors, or taking leave of life
amid his vast unexecuted schemes, there is the same sedate
magnanimity, the same fearless composure: when the fatal bullet
strikes him, he dies with the concerns of others, not his own, upon
his lips. He is a reformer, the perfection of reformers; not a
revolutionist, but a prudent though determined improver. His
enthusiasm does not burst forth in violence, but in manly and
enlightened energy; his eloquence is not more moving to the heart than
his lofty philosophy is convincing to the head. There is a majestic
vastness of thought in his precepts, which recommends them to the mind
independently of the beauty of their dress. Few passages of poetry are
more spirit-stirring than his last message to Carlos, through the
Queen. The certainty of death seems to surround his spirit with a kind
of martyr glory; he is kindled into transport, and speaks with a
commanding power. The pathetic wisdom of the line, 'Tell him, that
when he is a man, he must reverence the dreams of his youth,' has
often been admired: tha