I've loosened their tongues to-day. They where his Holiness was entertained, and will to-day talk so much about their Papa announced to all posterity that "Il sommo that Calvary will be forgotten!" Gra- Pontifice Pius IX., when visiting the ciously giving me his hand to kiss, I re- monks of Sopra Monte, on Sept. 13th, tired. 1852, attended by many illustrious Eminences, deigned to repose himself twice in this room, blessing and permitting the family of Cavaliere Tomaso Zuccone, the founder of this house, to kiss his sacred foot; and that in perpetual remembrance of this, he has had this marble placed in the wall."

The rinfresco having been duly served, ices, coffee, and biscuits were handed round and partaken of. His Holiness, having blessed the house, departed, one short quarter of an hour sufficing for this important event. And his Holiness, having spoken a benediction in the decorated chapel of the Redemptorists across the road, passed away like a magnificent

dream.

IV.

BUT it was no dream to Zuccone. Those two short quarters of an hour; the coming and going of the sovereign pontiff; were the turning-points in his life. He could think and talk of nothing

else.

But now observe this Zuccone, only on the very day of this illustrious visit, was an ignorant vine stripper. Poor he was born, but, partly by industry, and partly, it was said, by accident, he had made money and built this house. His children were ignorant, and bred to toil; his wife, a contadina, washed her own linen; and Zuccone himself had not apparently an idea beyond his vineyard and olive-grounds. Now, however, he is a cavaliere and a nobleman, and in this it is that consists the Freak of Fortune.

The very morning after the eventful 13th of September the half-witted hermit-priest of Maria della Rocca, meeting Zuccone, addressed him as il Signor CaIvaliere.

He was, in the first instance, almost before his Holiness had returned to Castel Gondolfo ; peremptory in his desire to purchase the chair which had been so much honoured that day. But money would not tempt me; the chair had ceased to be an ordinary chair, also to me. was resolute in retaining it; I have it still, and it is, in fact, that in which you are seated at this moment.

(I rose and looked at the chair, now covered with its faded old brown damask, but no way superior to any other piece of furniture in the room. It was, however, like Signora Giulia herself, rich in experiences, which its homely exterior would not have led one to expect. I reseated myself and she continued :)

"What is the meaning of that?" asked Zuccone, speaking gruffly, as was his

custom.

The poor old hermit, thinking that he had some way unwittingly done wrong, apologized; saying he thought he must be so, because he knew, when he was a boy, a mercante di campagna who, owing to a passing visit of Pius VII. to his house, became ennobled, both him and his family.

This was enough for Zuccone. He at once set off to an avocato, or lawyer, in Rome; who, scarcely investigating the matter, assured him that he, the simple vine-dresser, was ennobled by the papal visit, and raised to the rank of cavaliere.

The Arciprete, good man, swallowing Chis mortification and discomfiture, preached on the following Sunday a somesomewhat startling sermon; to me, at least; inasmuch as he spoke of the surprise which his Holiness and himself had prepared for the people of Monte del Never was there a more complete Caccia, dilating largely on the triumphal Freak of Fortune; but, as Fortune's faentry of Christ into Jerusalem. He said, vours are not always blessings, so was it ilikewise, that a marble tablet, commemo-in this case. From that day he was an rative of the great event, must be let into altered man. the external wall of Villa Zuccone, so that it might be read by all, and known to all future generations.

This was a hint to Zuccone, on whom nothing which could contribute to his greatness was lost. He, however, without regard either to the public or posterity, at once ordered this marble tablet at his own expense. It was inserted in the wall of the saloon which I occupied,

The

Fortunately the period for which we had taken the rooms in the villa soon expired, and we were spared the ludicrous annoyance of his bombastic airs. day we left he intimated to us that henceforth he should occupy the whole villa himself, though he would be happy to see us for a day or so as visitors. At the same time he informed us that his carretiere or carter, who took our lug

her; she had grown thin and heavyhearted; and, on the Friday in Carnival week, suddenly made her appearance in our rooms, looking anything but carnivalesque. She was come to ask me to go with her to buy damask table-linen, which her husband considered indispensable for their greatness. She shed tears over the silken-textured material; deploring that she could now neither starch nor iron, to say nothing of washing; and then over the thought of her poor little Pépina, who was so consumata, wasted away to

gage to Rome, would bring back some of the new furniture which he had ordered, all of which, he said, he had had emblazoned with the Zuccone arms. This was very amusing, as Zuccone, very soon after his greatness dawned upon him, had had himself announced to my husband in his studio in Rome as il cavaliere. My husband, ready for any joke, flattered him to the top of his bent, and there and then designed for him the Zuccone arms a big pumpkin vert on a field gules. So now the grand furniture, duly emblazoned, was to come back with the car-nothing; whilst the worthy Giacomo retiere who took our luggage.

Fioretti whose father was a sensible For more than a year we saw nothing man, adding vineyard to vineyard had more of the great Pumpkin family, for our been insulted in their own house, friend villa was not then built, and the following of the family as he had been for years, summer we spent in Germany. But the by Zuccone himself. And as to poor family greatness and dignity had not Belisario - here was another trouble! added to the happiness of Signora Mari- he had suffered all sorts of indignities at ana and her children. Young Belisario, the college; had run away, and was now taken from his labours in the vineyard at Monte del Caccia; had come whilst and olive-ground and his dignity as a his father was at the Carnival, who, thereconfrère of the Purgatorio, was sent to fore, knew nothing of it. But Belisario college in Rome. He wore a long cloak declared he would not go back; he would and a white cravat, and had his father's enlist for a soldier; do anything rather commands to perfect himself into a young than be made a fine gentleman of. Finally Roman gentleman. The poor little flut-came the grand trouble of all: Zuccone tering Pépina was torn from her mother's was an altered man; he spent and side and sent to a convent, to learn to speak French and to embroider; instead of working amongst the vines and olives, with every now and then a tender word or a loving glance over the rose-hedge from young Giacomo Fioretti, of the neighbouring vineyard. The union between these young people had been arranged between their mothers ever since Pépina was in swaddling-hands.

spared nothing; his only thought was to do as the nobility did; his vineyard and his olive-ground, which had hitherto been his pride, were now neglected; he walked about in his Sunday coat every day in the week, and did nothing, because he was il cavaliere!

It was not a merry Carnival to the poor Signora. Though she was allowed to visit her daughter in the convent, that only increased her trouble; for Pépina's eyes were red with weeping, and she could not tell her grief to her mother, because Sister Loretta would not leave them together for a minute. How, therefore, could it be a merry Carnival?

V.

It was not till the Carnival of the following spring that I agaiu saw the Cavaliere Zuccone, who now, in accordance with his superb notions, was here to make merry during the otto giorni del Paradiso as the Italians call the eight days of the Carnival. This he did by driving up and down the Corso in a handsome open carriage, pelting the AGAIN it was summer (said Signora grandees with confetti and the ladies Giulia, raising from her lap the letter with flowers, now considering himself which had first reminded her of this one of their class. Never did man make family history, and which she had been himself more ridiculous, yet flatter him-holding between her fingers all the time). self, at the same time, that he was the This letter is directed to the Benconopink of nobility. He smoked Havannah cigars; he wore a gold eye-glass; and wound up every night with the theatre and the masked ball. He was completely changed. No less so was the stout, good-tempered Mariana. The parting with her children, and, above all, her daughter, had been a great trouble to

sciuto Scultore Grünwald, in Rome. The writer, il cavaliere Zuccone, addressing him as the egregio signore, says that; regarding it as needful, considering his rank in life, to prepare his family tomb or monument; he desires to have his bust taken and executed in marble by the said egregio signore, hoping that five

hogsheads of his best wine, that is to say one of the most remunerative harvests of the vintage of 1846, would be consid-to.her husband. In spite of all these ered as an equivalent.

losses, and the growing shortness of My husband was so incensed by the money, he would not let any portion of arrogance and presumption of the writer the villa to the forestieri, who, as usual, that he threw the letter aside in indigna- when the summer heat becomes opprestion, and certainly would have taken no sive in Rome, flee out to the hills, and to notice of it, had not a little note, in the whom the handsome Villa Zuccone, sitpoorest of handwriting; which, however, uated on the very top of Monte del Caccia, I recognized as that of Signora Mariana; was always attractive. No; all the last been left at our house a day or two after-summer it had stood unoccupied, thou_h wards by the veritable Salvini, of noted more families than usual inquired after charcoal memory. This note entreated it. my husband as a Christian to take Zuccone's bust, seeing that things were going on very badly at the villa. Her husband, she said, had obstinately set his mind, not only on having it done, but done in their own house. Therefore she entreated them to send over some day and come with the good Signora, so that she might open her breaking heart to them for though forestieri she could trust them better than Italians, who were so treacherous.

Mariana loved to have forestieri in the villa, independently of the money they brought, because she was kind-hearted and socially inclined; and I fortunately hit upon the only argument with her husband that could have any weight wita him. The Roman princes Borghese, Sciarra, and many others, let apartments in their palaces; why, thea. should il cavaliere refuse? He consented, therefore; and, to the infinite satisfaction of poor Signora Marian, a Out of pity, therefore, to the poor heart-wealthy American family were located in broken wife, we went again to the Villa our apartment that very summer. Zuccone. And though we never saw the five hogsheads of wine, I always considered it especially fortunate that we did so, because it gave us the opportunity of purchasing the beautiful site upon which, the following year, we began to build our own villa-this pleasant country home where we now are, and which be- We never, as I have said, saw the five came such a source of interest and en-hogsheads of wine; but then events in joyment to my dear father as long as he lived.

My husband, in his good nature, not only modelled the bust of il cavaliere, but, according to his own wish, made him look twenty years younger than he was, and represented him in the uniform of the Guardia Nobile, or Papal Guard. So assiduous was the poor wife to make us comfortable that he modelled her also; not as she was then, with all those lines of anxiety and worry on her comely countenance; but as she had appeared two summers before, a fine type of the contadina, become, by good fortune, a signora.

Everything, as the poor woman said, had gone wrong with them since Holy Father's visit had made il cavaliere of her husband. Even the vine-disease, which had not hitherto been at all prevalent in that district, had nearly destroyed their whole vintage the last year. The olive-crop had also failed, and the last summer had been so dry that they had hardly any hay, which hitherto had been

In other respects, also, our visit was productive of good. We espoused the cause of young Giacomo Fioretti; we played dominoes with Fra Eustacio, Zuccone's director; and so, I believe, became instrumental in the final act of this little drama.

the Zuccone family wound themselves up very rapidly. Money worries, quarrels, and all kind of annoyances came down like an armed force on poor, foolish Zurcone, who fell that same autumn into fever, which carried him off in three days. On the last afternoon of his life, after Fra Eustacio had administered extreme unction, poor little Pépina, who had now been some days from the convent, was betrothed to good Giacomo.

The cavaliere was now dead and buried. You have seen his tomb in the church with its pompous Latin inscription, in which the visit of his Holiness is not omitted. The busts of himself and his wife were never put into mirble ; they remain, however, in their places of honour each on their respective pedestal, under the famous marble inscription which ennobles the saloon.

The Signora Mariana again washed her own linen, fed her fowls, and let the principal rooms in her house to forestieri; and, finally might once more be heard singing under the vine-covered pergala.

She had now good reason to be contented, for the family vineyards were again well cultivated. Giacomo Fioretti, to the comfort of her heart, undertook the stewardship. Belisario, influenced by the one good seed sown in his mind during his short and humiliating experience in the Roman college, went for a few years to study the improved management of the vine in Tuscany. He returned with a practical knowledge which soon made the vineyards of Zuccone and Fioretti; now well-fed and middle-aged men; the most famous on the southern side of Rome and for which, I am told, only this last year, in the competition amongst the vinegrowers, obtained no less than two gold medals.

Everything except the vague sentiment of favour which attends incipient royalty was against Charles. In the beginning of his reign he went to meet his bride, Henrietta Maria of France, and spent his first few days of wedded life at Canterbury. It was distressing to the English people that their king should marry a Papist. Henrietta, it is true, was French, and this, in the popular apprehension, was better than if she had been Spanish ; but in connection with the marriage negotiations, occasion had been found to offend and alarm the Protestant feeling of the nation. The English Court had engaged to furnish eight ships to the French king, and it was whispered that they were to be employed against RoAdmiral Pennington declared

It is now twenty years since the im-chelle. portant event occurred which made the that he would be hanged rather than greatness and the downfall of Zuccone serve against the Huguenots, and every the elder; but Holy Father still remem-man in the ships, with the exception of hers, with no little merriment, this one gunner, made off. Those ingenious Freak of Fortune. Only on the last Festa gentlemen who discourse on the continuof St. Peter and St. Paul, when I went to the Vatican to offer my homage to the great successor of St. Peter, he said to me, with that dry little laugh which all his familiars know so well:

"Ah, poor Cavaliere Tommaso! Let us hope we shall find him in paradiso!"

From The Contemporary Review.
CHARLES I. AND HIS FATHER.
IN TWO CHAPTERS.

BY PETER BAYNE.

II.

ity of the Church of England, and ask you to name a date for the English Reformation, might be assisted by these circumstances. When, in a fleet fitted out by Charles I., exactly one man could be found, from admiral to powder-monkey, who did not prefer the risks of disobedience and mutiny to fighting against French Protestants, the historical continuity of the old popish Church of England may be said to have been broken.

The presence of Henrietta at his side put the final touch to that distrust with which Charles was regarded by his subjects when he began to rule over them. The French princess played an important part in the eventful drama of the time. CHARLES STUART, who ascended the She was devoted to her Church, and the throne of England in the spring of 1625, harshness of English Protestantism was inherited peculiarities both physical and not likely to soften her popery. By her mental from his father. He was an ail-marriage treaty she was empowered to ing child, and exhibited indelible traces bring up her children in her own religion of James's tottering gait and stuttering until they were thirteen years old; and articulation. If Lilly can be trusted, though historians say that this was but a "the old Scottish lady, his nurse, used to formal concession on the part of the affirm that he was of a very evil nature English negotiators, we can judge even in his infancy," and his own mother whether the conscience, the confessor, predicted harm from his wilfulness. If or the womanly pride of Henrietta was he was his father's superior in dignity, likely to treat it as such. It is certain he ran into the opposite extreme of punc- that her sons Charles II. and James II. tiliousness. If James was offensively were Papists. She was naturally regardfamiliar, he surrounded himself with ed by the English and Irish Catholics as elaborate frostwork barriers of etiquette, the head of their party, and her daring and ticketed the rooms in Whitehall in intrigues in the popish interest brought the ratio of their accessibility to courtiers her life into extreme danger. She won of this rank and of that. Of the sagacity her husband's affections, and attained which lay beneath all his father's absurd- great influence over him. At first, inities he had not a trace. deed, he tried to assert his mastership,

and soon after his marriage turned the responsibility for the blood and substance whole bevy of the queen's attendant of his people, into the causes of the failFrench women out of England. Charles ure. But he liked Buckingham, and had was always apt to fly out into impotencies no idea of the process by which defeat of sudden rage. "Force them away," is converted into victory. Charles always he wrote to Buckingham, "driving them acted as if he believed that success or away like so many wild beasts until ye failure is a prize or a blank drawn in a have shipped them; and so the devil go lottery that a mere favourite is as with them." But, though wilful, Charles likely to succeed as a man of ability; and had no strength of will, and as his that, when one expedition collapses, the troubles thickened, and the soft brilliancy thing to be done is just to fit out another of Henrietta's youth deepened into the in the old way of routine. Buckingham gracious sadness of her matron beauty, has failed; well, let Denbigh, Buckingshe attained an ascendancy over him ham's brother-in-law, try it. Denbigh which at last became supreme. fails, bringing back the fleet with the Intense interest was at this time ex- imputation of having flinched from the cited in England by the siege of Ro- enemy; let it be Buckingham once more, chelle. Richelieu had in youth aspired then. A new expedition was accordingly to be a soldier, and although the patri- fitted out, and Buckingham was appointed monial bishopric drew him into the to the command. The popular party disChurch, he gave proof that, under his trusted this expedition as they had discardinal's hat, worked the genius of a trusted the other, and the land rang with great commander. Having shut up the execrations of the duke. These, acting Huguenots in their last city, he proceed-upon a sore point of personal grudge in a ed to reduce the town with the calculated weak and fanatical brain, inflamed John energy of one who, from the beginning, Felton into a monomaniac; and as Bucksees the end. A sea-wall of his devising ingham was about to embark at Portsstrode gradually across the mouth of the mouth in August, 1628, he stabbed him harbour to intercept approaching suc- to the heart. It remains, therefore, a cours. A cry rose from the Protestants of England as if Richelieu were at their own gates. Buckingham heard the appeal and answered it; but he did so, not as the sure and patient chief who is as The expedition sailed under command careful in preparation as prompt and bold of the Earl of Lindsay, but effected nothin fight, but as the spoiled child of royal ing. After one of the most heroic defavour. Unwarned by the failure of fences recorded in history, Rochelle Count Mansfeldt's expedition, he sailed surren lered. The embrace of Richelieu for Rochelle without securing an under- had closed round 15,000 Rochellers, the standing with the besieged. The Ro-last and bravest of the Huguenots of chellers could not forget the episode of France; 4,000 living skeletons confessed the ships. When Buckingham appeared that they could do no more. with his squadron in the offing, they re- During the three years of the new fused to admit him. He determined to attempt the Isle of Rhé. At first, because he encountered no force capable of meeting him in the field, he fancied he was carrying everything before him; but he had no conception of the art of war, and threw away time and men in attacking without the requisite ordnance the principal fort in the island. The French then came upon him in overwhelming numbers, and though he and his men fought bravely, two-thirds of the army of 7,000 perished, and he returned with the wreck of the expedition to England.

Amid the storm of indignation which greeted the duke on his return, Charles stood by him faithfully. This might have been to the credit of the king if he had first inquired, with a due sense of

matter of speculation whether the favourite had it in him to retrieve, by some splendid feat of genius, his own fame and the fortunes of his master.

reign over which we have been glancing, the Parliament of England had played no unimportant part on the stage of affairs. The historical describer has always to regret that he must treat events, not simultaneously and in vital connection with each other, as they occurred, but in succession. That old Mexican, or old Eygptian and Assyrian, method of writing history, in which it was painted on broad walls, was the right one. Here army meets army in shock of conflict; there the assailants enter the breach in a city wall; on the one hand. the king and his councillors meet in palaver; on the other the queen and her ladies look on with interest while lions crunch the heads of captives. It is impossible to transfer the panorama of