ing the "Inamorata," who had hardly changed her place, to close the evening "con quella canzone che le andava più al genio," a request resisted by none but with difficulty, and least of all by those whose food is poetry and music. So said the disciple of Fea, but the lady seemed to be of a different opinion. She rose reluctantly, and, with a complaining glance towards her mother, sate down slowly before the piano; and raising her large black eyes to Heaven, which were still full of that languor and melancholy which Guido casts into all his heads, without excepting even his Herodias, and then throwing them down with all her curls upon the instrument, where she remained pausing for some time, she began with a trembling amongst the notes, and at last broke out in the air and words so well known in the neighbourhood of Rome, "O Roma, Roma, non sei più come era prima," which will hardly bear a translation into any language the simplicity of which is less musical than that of the Italian. She sung this with a strange intermixture of personal feeling: the great majority of the company were admirers of things as they are, but there is no Roman who unconsciously has not at times some vague yearnings after the past. In the present instance it was peculiarly observabie: personal afflictions seemed blended at this moment with the gloomiest fortunes of a fallen country; there was scarcely one present who had not a grievance and a pain to bind up with the silent wrongs and misfortunes of Italy. I saw the Abbate at first whispering his neighbours something about the ancient Næniæ, and the ruins of Carthage, and the perishing of the very site of Troy; but an influence of a more home and powerful nature soon fell upon him-he listened attentively with his hands crossed and his head bent down, and walked away with "Giace l'alta Cartago" to the other end of the room, while the rest of his companions remained silent in a ring round the piano some time after the canzone had altogether ceased. The first word almost which was spoken was the "Felicissime Notte!" the beautiful evening farewell of the Italian; and after "many thanks for their entertainment," a peculiarly Roman fashion, I found the company gradually dropping off; my countrymen were amongst the first who had retired, anxious as usual to avoid each other, and, not feeling myself particularly well armed for a tête à tête with any of the remaining party, I thought it more judicious as soon as possible to imitate their example. I had scarcely opened the door of the anti-chamber, when I perceived by the moonlight, half-way down the staircase, the three-cornered hat of the Abbate, and his long arms in violent agitation, and heard him engaged at the highest pitch of his voice in a stormy debate with his neighbour on the extent of Rome anterior to Aurelian, and whether we were than standing in the ancient Via Lata, or not. I had not yet read Nardini, nor disputed with Nibby, nor walked with Rè, and, wishing to preserve my neutrality as long as I could, I glided by the combatants with haste into the modern street, and took the way through the Fontana Trevi, by the Piazza degli Apostoli, to my own habitation. In my way through these narrow lanes, contrasting so strongly with the squares and Fora," both of the ancient and modern city, and lighted only with a gloomy kind of twilight from the reflection of the moon on the upper part of the opposite houses, I had full time to ruminate on the circle which I had just left. I could not help remarking a very striking difference between these " evenings," and those to which a stranger is generally introduced in his wanderings in the North. The two classes are there so demarcated one from the other, that there is hardly any neutral territory distinguishable on which they might occasionally come into parley and contact. They stand like enemies in perpetual observation, and habit and etiquette, like a sanitary cordon, are ever present to prevent the possibility of communion and contagion. The result is, that they form, toto cœlo, separate and often opposed communities-their domestic government, manners, and ideas are those of a state within a state; they belong often to different periods of civi lization, and never can recognize, but in its first principles, the same code of thought or action. In free countries these anomalies are still more conspicuous: the very functions attached to the different orders of the state, and the privileges connected with their exercise, imply a much greater necessity for nicely graduating their different ranks. The upper classes in the North, from education and habit, have contracted a certain "ad unguem" delicacy of manner and mind, lying frequently between fastidiousness and effeminacy; but the middle orders on whom the real and stern interests of life generally fall, in commercial countries in particular, where they work in some manner for the world at large, are proportionably narrow, rude, and exclusive. In Italy commerce is a secondary consideration; and in Rome it may almost be said not to exist at all, or, if it occasionally appear, it is in connexion with the Arts, the great staple of the city, and contributes rather to increase than diminish the ruling passion of the inhabitants. The result is obvious: the very ranks, which in other countries are most removed from all elegant occupation, are here more or less tinged with a peculiar character of intellectual pre-eminence; the conversation of the lowest circles is more or less coloured with allusions to the very wide range of topics which every department of the Arts must necessarily embrace; and this, from its frequency and opportunity of indulgence, becomes at last a manière d'être, -the natural growth of their mind and climate, and not an affectation borrowed from the class immediately above them. With this natural enjoyment of refined pleasures, there is conjoined a certain dislike for all the more ordinary occupations of life, abundance of indolence, and a perfect apathy for most of those general principles of morals and politics, the taste for which belongs so eminently to all classes, high or low, in England. The "dulce otium ac pene omni negolio pulchrius" is the short and expressive creed of their philosophy; and in no country has philosophy a more contented sect for her worshippers. There is less exertion than with the French, less reserve than with us, and as much social pleasure and kindness perhaps as with either. "Urbanity" combines. both, it is the appanage of all ranks, and you meet it even in the peasant. These reflections carried me insensibly to the Trevi, the sound of whose waters falling through the "friendly stillness" of the night, and audible at a great distance, immediately arrested my attention. It was like the rushing of a cataract on the heart of a luxurious city. I approached it sideways, and soon stood before it. Madame de Stael places her Corinna near, and Lord N. sees her figure in the water; this is possible in summer. When I saw it, it was in all the turbulence and confusion of a natural phenomenon. The Fontana is a compilation of excellence and defect: a Castellum Aquæ, (the termination of the Palazzo Poli,) a reservoir below, into which seems to burst the whole of the unrivalled " Aqua Virgo," through rocks and fragments tempestuously cast together, a figure of Neptune, with his accompanying Tritons; these are the elements of the composition. The original conception is grand, and of that clear and comprehensive style which belongs exclusively to the republic and the early empire. Nothing could be nobler than heaping thus this scene of Nature in a city, and then striking through it a fierce and bold passage for the crowding waters. The accompaniments are in part well imagined, and as ill-executed. The Neptune is a good applica tion of the Athenian fable, but the style in which it is translated is feeble, modern, and mannered-the Tritons and their horses, flung at random with little propriety over the rocks, are of as starved and sickly a temperament as if they had been intended for the Academie de Musique. The Castellum Aquæ, in partnership with a palace, is absurd; it is bringing the desert into a drawing-room. As to the ornaments, nothing can be more washy; The palace, as may be conceived, suffered materially from the connexion. It was notorious for its damp and decay, until purchased, together with the dukedom, by the Duke of Bracciano (Torlonia) for his eldest son, and restored to something like former magnificence on his marriage. the stucco-looking style of the Corinthian architecture, the incrustations, the windows, the fritter and meagreness of all the parts, are only worse than the two side-statues. They throw an appearance of incongruity over the whole. A Castellum Aquæ should be as severe as the "opus quadratum" of the Capitol, particularly with such a base; if ornament is to be tolerated, let trophies like those of Marius be appended. Any thing is better than the finery of a palace, and the inscriptions and taste of a modern Pope. The square, if so it must be called, is a ragged disorderly club of houses which should be got rid of; the enormous length of the palace would have furnished with beauty and advantage one whole side. As it is, it is of little moment; every thing is forgotten in the waters-they overcome every absurdity and defect, and are the only idea which remains of the Fountain. I hurried my steps through the remaining streets, and at last reached the Propaganda. It was twelve o'clock, not a stir in the whole city; watched and watchers had gone to sleep; dogs and carriages had ceased their noises, and the same stars which had shone out on Romulus and Cæsar, still looked down with undiminished glory on the follies and vanities of their successors. THE BURIAL OF WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR. A very remarkable account is given in Sismondi's Histoire des Français (vol. iv. p. 481) of the circumstances attending the death and burial of William the Conqueror. It is thus concluded-" Enfin le corps étoit déjà deposé dans la fosse, et avant qu'on le recouvrit de terre, Gislebert, Evêque d'Evreux, prononçait son panégyrique, lorsqu'un Normand, nommé Ascelin, se leva du milieu de la foule, et s'écria à haute voix, Cet homme dont vous venez de prononcer l'éloge, vous allez l'enterrer dans une terre qui est à moi. Ici même étoit ma maison paternelle, et il l'enleva à mon Père contre toute justice, sans jamais la lui payer, pour y bâtir cette Eglise. Je vous interdis, au nom de Dieu, de couvrir le corps du Ravisseur, avec une terre qui m'appartient.' Cette protestation frappa de componction les Seigneurs et les Evêques qui l'entendirent; ils firent immédiatement autour du cercueil une collecte pour racheter d'Ascelin, le place même où son Souverain seroit enterré; ils lui promirent que plus tard on le compenseroit pour la perte de son heritage, et ils lui tinrent parole; car le fait qu'il avait rappelé était de notorieté publique." LOWLY upon his bier The royal Conqueror lay; Down the long minster's aisle Crowds mutely gazing stream'd; Altar and tomb the while Through mists of incense gleam'd. And by the torch's blaze The stately priest had said High words of power and praise They lower'd him, with the sound He hath conquer'd regions wide, 66 But he shall not slumber there! By the violated hearth Which made way for you, proud shrine; Hath borne for me and mine; "By the house e'en here o'erthrown, Soft slumbers in the grave? Which we cherish'd many a year, "The land that I have till'd, Hath been wet by weeping eyes Where no wrong against him cries." Shame glow'd on each dark face Of those proud and steel-girt men, A little earth for him Whose banner flew so far! -And a peasant's tale could dim The name, a nation's star! One deep voice thus arose From a heart which wrongs had riven Oh! who shall number those That were but heard in Heaven? F. H. SPECIMENS OF A DICTIONARY OF LOVE AND BEAUTY. NO. II. Abou-Joseph, and Abelard and Eloisa. ABOU-JOSEPH was chief-justice, or chancellor, under the caliph Haroun Al Raschid. We introduce him here, like a crow among our pigeons and birds of paradise, to show the very different eye with which Haroun regarded his own loves, and those of his friend Giafar. The chancellor's conduct will edify us too. Haroun conceived a passion for one of the slaves of his brother Ibrahim, and offered thirty-thousand dinars, or crowns of gold, for her. Ibrahim was not unwilling to oblige his brother, but unfortunately had made a vow never to sell or give her to any body. Seeing, however, the caliph's violent inclination, who insisted upon having her at whatever price, he consulted Abou-Joseph upon what was to be done. The following was the chancellor's opinion:-" Here is perjury to be avoided. You must half give her, and half sell her." Ibrahim, delighted with this expedient, despatched her instantly to his brother the caliph, who on his part lost no time in paying for half of the lady, On the other the sum that he had promised for the whole enchantress. hand, Ibrahim, charmed at being delivered from a dilemma so embarrassing, made over the money on the spot to the chancellor. Another obstacle, however, presented itself. Haroun might receive the lady as a slave; but, as she had been his brother's mistress, he could not accept her in the like capacity, till she had passed through the hands of a third person. The law, which raised the difficulty, was called upon to get rid of it. They consulted Abou-Joseph. AbouJoseph advised, that the lady should be married to one of the slaves of the royal household, on condition of his divorcing her immediately after the ceremony. The marriage was solemnized without delay; but the slave, enamoured of his new spouse, would not hear of the divorce, though ten thousand dinars were offered to propitiate him. Behold dilemma the third, and Abou-Joseph again called upon to help out the caliph. It may be wondered, why the prince that put his viziers and friends to death, and was in the habit of ordering heads to be cut off, did not get rid of his rival after the same fashion. But ceremony must be attended to. Law, if possible, must be observed in committing injustice. The greatest despots, for obvious reasons, are willing to unite the forms of law with the violations of decency; as Henry the Eighth (who would have made an excellent caliph) did among us. The Barmecides were destroyed in due course of law; and with similar decorum, Abou-Joseph was called upon to find out a law for what was illegal in the caliph's wishes. He was not at a loss. The slave, who refused to give up his wife, was still a slave; and Haroun was his master, and had a right to make a present of him. The chancellor pronounced, that a woman cannot be the wife of her slave. "Give the man," said he, " to his wife, and she will be his wife no longer." The man was given, and the lady received back. Haroun, in his gratitude, then made a present to the chancellor of the ten thousand pieces of gold he had offered to the man; and the lady, who was pleased to belong to a great prince instead of his slave, begged his acceptance of a like sum, in order to evince hers. "Thus," remarks D'Herbelot, "this dexterous lawyer made fifty thousand pieces of gold in a single night." Another anecdote of this chancellor is worth picking up, as we go. It shows, that however great the fortune he realized, and the subtleties that helped him to it, there have been judges to whom he might have set an example in the article of modest acquirement. Having confessed one day his inability to settle a question that was brought before him, he was reprehended for getting so rich, while he was so incompetent to his office. "Excuse me," said the judge; "I am paid for what I really do if I were paid for what I do not, all the treasures of the kingdom would not remunerate me." : We have used the word Love in speaking of the caliph's passion. *The authority of a caliph was religious as well as civil. He was Commander of the Faithful in a priestly as well as princely sense. Henry had theology, pomp, luxury, and the taste for decapitation; and he declared himself God's vice-gerent upon earth, and Head of the Church. Furthermore, he kept a buffoon; and like Haroun, had a pet casuist for chancellor, who was at hand to extricate him from those little informalities and agreeable remorses of conscience, which he indulged in by way of sauce to his appetite. |