gifts, we say; shrunk into a strange
bankruptcy in the development of them. A stiff-backed, close-fisted old
gentleman, with mill-hopper chin,--with puckery much-inquiring eyes,
which have never discovered any noble path for him in this world. He is
a strictly orthodox Protestant; zealous about external points of moral
conduct; yet scruples not, for the Kaiser's shilling, to lie with energy
to all lengths; and fight, according to the Reichs-Hofrath code, for any
god or man. He is gone mostly to avarice, in these mature years; all
his various strengths turned into strength of grasping. He is now
fifty-four; a man public in the world, especially since he became the
Kaiser's man: but he has served various masters, in various capacities,
and been in many wars;--and for the next thirty years we shall still
occasionally meet him, seldom to our advantage.

He comes from Anspach originally; and has kindred Seckendorfs in office
there, old Ritters in that Country. He inherited a handsome castle and
estate, Meuselwitz, near Altenburg in the Thuringen region, from that
Uncle, Ernst of Saxe-Gotha's man, whom we spoke of; and has otherwise
gained wealth; all which he holds like a vice. Once, at Meuselwitz, they
say, he and some young secretary, of a smartish turn, sat working or
conversing, in a large room with only one candle to illuminate it: the
secretary, snuffing the candle, snuffed it out: "Pshaw," said Seckendorf
impatiently, "where did you learn to handle snuffers?" "Excellenz, in
a place where there were two lights kept!" replied the other. [_
Sechendorje Leben_ (already cited), i. 4.]--For the rest, he has a good
old Wife at Meuselwitz, who is now old, and had never any children;
who loves him much, and is much loved by him, it would appear: this is
really the best fact I ever knew of him,--poor bankrupt creature;
gone all to spiritual rheumatism, to strict orthodoxy, with unlimited
mendacity; and avarice as the general outcome! Stiff-backed,
close-fisted strength, all grown wooden or stony; yet some little well
of human Sympathy does lie far in the interior: one wishes, after all
(since he could not be got hanged in time for us), good days to his poor
old Wife and him! He both lisps and snuffles, as was mentioned; writes
cunningly acres of despatches to Prince Eugene; never swears, though a
military man, except on great occasions one oath, JARNI-BLEU,--which is
perhaps some flash-note version of CHAIR-DE-DIEU, like PARBLE