In the second part we follow Van Artevelde from his zenith of glory to his decline. The tarnishing influence of prosperity on his spirit, and its clear radiance again in adversity, are managed as the noble and well-defined conception of the character deserves. The boy king and his courtly, intriguing counsellors are as happily portrayed as Vauclaire and the fierce commonalty he ruled, or resisted with rope or sword, as the case might demand. The two loves of Van Artevelde are finely imagined, as types of the two states of his character. Both are lovely; the one how elevated! the other how pity-moving in her loveliness! On the interlude of Elena we must be allowed to linger fondly, though the author's self condemn our taste. We are no longer partial to the machinery of portents and presentiments. Wallenstein's were the last we liked, but Van Artevelde's make good poetry, and have historical vouchers. They remind us of those of Fergus Mac Ivor. We shall extract a speech of Van Artevelde's, in which a leading idea of the work is expressed. Father,-- So! with the chivalry of Christendom I wage my war,--no nation for my friend, Yet in each nation having hosts of friends. The bondsmen of the world, that to their lords Are bound with chains of iron, unto me Are knit by their affections. Be it so. From kings and nobles will I seek no more Aid, friendship, or alliance. With the poor I make my treaty; and the heart of man Sets the broad seal of its allegiance there, And ratifies the compact. Vassals, serfs, Ye that are bent with unrequited toil, Ye that have whitened in the dungeon's darkness, Through years that know not change of night nor day, Tatterdemalions, lodgers in the hedge, Lean beggars with raw backs, and rumbling maws, Whose poverty was whipped for starving you,-- I hail you my auxiliars and allies, The only potentates whose help I crave! Richard of England, thou hast slain Jack Straw, But thou hast left unquenched the vital spark That set Jack Straw on fire. The spirit lives; And as when he of Canterbury fell, His seat was filled by some no better clerk, So shall John Ball, that slew him, be replaced. Fain would we extract Van Artevelde's reply to the French envoy--the oration of the dying Van den Bosch in the market-place of Ypres, the last scene between the hero and the double-dyed dastard and traitor, Sir Heurant of Heurlee, and many, many more, had we but space enough. We have purposely avoided telling the story, as is usual in an article of this kind, because we wish that every one should buy and read Van Artevelde, instead of resting content with the canvas side of the carpet. A few words more, and we shall conclude these, we fear, already too prolonged remarks. We would compare Mr. Taylor with the most applauded of living dramatists, the Italian Alessandro Manzoni.