has been commonly imagined to that of all the European Princes of his time. We all know what the childhood and youth of Don Carlos—that cruel tormentor of the men and beasts about him, that hideous monster who had the birds brought in from his hunting excursions roasted alive, and delighted in mutilating the horses in his stables—were, before the fictions of poets and romance-writers cast a glamour over them.
Some people have regarded Ivan's propensity to confess his crimes, and even exaggerate them, to which I have already referred, as a sign of mania or neurosis. This, as it seems to me, is merely a symptom of the actor's temperament, frequent in the case of men who, having every other passion likewise, have that for showing themselves off, attracting onlookers' attention, even to their own disadvantage. Look at Luther, amongst the Tsar's own illustrious contemporaries. He carried his mania for this sort of thing beyond all the limits of decency. And, in this matter, Ivan proved how modern he was. None of the Sovereigns of ancient Russia had felt his need or possessed his gift of speaking, discussing, either vivâ voce or in writing, on the public square or between four walls, with a fugitive boïar or a foreign envoy, ceaselessly, unrestingly, without decency, too; for on these occasions he undresses his soul as he might undress his body; he strips it naked, he shows all his sores and all his warts, and cries, 'See how ugly I am!' He exaggerates them, writing to Kourbski, 'Though I am still alive, I am nothing in God's eyes, thanks to my vile actions, but a corpse, unclean and hideous. I have done worse than Cain, the first murderer; I have imitated Esau's shameful excesses; I have been like Reuben, who soiled his father's bed'’ Which does not prevent him from thinking and saying that the man to whom he confesses himself guilty of so many shameful acts is quite in the wrong as to the disagreement between them. But if he cannot make himself admired, he is quite willing to inspire horror, so long as people notice him and pay attention to him. Jean Jacques Rousseau must surely have been trained in the self-same school.
Though he generally appears in tragic parts, Ivan, as I have shown, does not object to play chief buffoon at his own Court. Any part will do for him, so long as he can be upon the stage. Now and then he mingles the two styles together. The aged Tchiéliadnine falls under suspicion of being a conspirator. The Tsar is not content with handing the traitor over to the executioner. He steps down from his throne, seats the astonished boïar upon it, bows to the ground, salutes him by the title of Tsar, and then thrusts his dagger into his heart. 'You were able to think of taking my place, but I am able to kill you!' Printz von Buchau recognises features of resemblance
