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diff --git a/11235-h/11235-h.htm b/11235-h/11235-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ae20501 --- /dev/null +++ b/11235-h/11235-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,1408 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Transitional//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-transitional.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> +<head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; +charset=UTF-8" /> + + <title>The Mirror of Literature, Issue 399.</title> + + <style type="text/css"> + <!-- + body {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + p {text-align: justify;} + blockquote {text-align: justify;} + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 {text-align: center;} + pre {font-size: 0.7em;} + + hr {text-align: center; width: 50%;} + html>body hr {margin-right: 25%; margin-left: 25%; width: 50%;} + hr.full {width: 100%;} + html>body hr.full {margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 0%; width: 100%;} + + .note, .footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + + span.pagenum {position: absolute; left: 1%; right: 91%; font-size: 8pt;} + + .poem {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; margin-bottom: 1em; text-align: left;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem p {margin: 0; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem p.i2 {margin-left: 1em;} + .poem p.i8 {margin-left: 8em;} + + .figure {padding: 1em; margin: 0; text-align: center; font-size: 0.8em; margin: auto;} + .figure img {border: none;} + .figure p + --> + </style> +</head> +<body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 11235 ***</div> + + <hr class="full" /> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page321" name="page321"></a>[pg 321]</span> + + <h1>THE MIRROR<br /> + OF<br /> + LITERATURE, AMUSEMENT, AND INSTRUCTION.</h1> + <hr class="full" /> + + <table width="100%" summary="Banner"> + <tr> + <td align="left"><b>Vol. XIV. No. 399.]</b></td> + <td align="center"><b>SUPPLEMENTARY NUMBER.</b></td> + <td align="right"><b>[PRICE 2d.</b></td> + </tr> + </table> + <hr class="full" /> + +<h2> +Verona</h2> + +<div class="figure" style="width: 100%;"> + <a href="images/399-1.png"><img width="100%" src="images/399-1.png" +alt="Verona." /></a> + </div> + +<h3> +SPIRIT OF THE ANNUALS FOR 1830.</h3> + +<p> +Fair and gentle readers, we present you with a kaleidoscopic view of +some of these elegant trifles—the very <i>bijouterie</i> of art and +literature—in picture outmastering each other in gems of ingenuity, and +in print, exalting a thousand beautiful fancies into a halo of harmony +and happiness for the coming year. We call these "trifles," but in the +best sense of the term—ay, the air-plants of literature, whose light +flowers and fancies shoot up and entwine with our best affections, and +even lend a charm to the loveliest of their objects. +</p><p> +We commence with</p> + +<h3> +The Gem,</h3> +<p> +almost the "youngling of the flock," which contains the original of the +annexed Engraving, by W.J. Cooke, +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page322" name="page322"></a>[pg 322]</span> + appended to which is the following +illustrative sketch:—</p> + +<h3> +VERONA.</h3> +<h4> +<i>By Mrs. Maria Callcott</i>.</h4> + +<p> +The drawing from which our engraving is made, is one of the relics of +the late Mr. Bonington, whose early death has caused such great and just +regret to the lovers of painting. It represents one of those ancient +towers, and one of those magnificent palaces, (the Maffei Palace), which +distinguish the city of Verona, and, by their peculiar character mark it +both as the ancient Gothic capital of northern Italy, and as one of the +great principalities of the middle ages. +</p><p> +Verona is indebted to nature for part of the charms it possesses for a +traveller. It is nearly surrounded by the broad and rapid Adige: the +hills towards the Tyrol have a majestic character, which, as they +approach the city, is softened by vineyards, and fields, and gardens, +between agreeable villas or groves of cypress. The dress of the people +is picturesque; their habits are cheerful, and their manners kindly. +</p><p> +Besides all this, there is scarcely a city, even in Italy, to which we +attach a more romantic interest than to Verona. Under its ancient Gothic +name of Bern, it is the scene of many of the Teutonic tales which are +woven into the Book of Heroes, and the song of the Nibelung. The poets +and novelists of the middle ages have also laid the scenes of many of +their enchanting tales in this beautiful city; and our own Shakspeare +has brought Verona so home to every English reader, that we feel almost +to have a right of possession in the place. +</p><p> +Originally a city of the Rhetians, Verona became a Roman colony about +the time of Julius Caeser, who caused its inhabitants to be enrolled +among the number of Roman citizens. Its most flourishing periods under +the empire were the reigns of Vaspasian and of Hadrian, when various +temples, and other public buildings, of which some fragments still +remain, were erected, and the magnificent ampitheatre, which is still +used for scenic representations, was built. It was under the reign of +Trajan, that Verona received its first Christian Bishop, Euprepius; and +in that of Dioclesian, that its martyrs, Fermus and Rusticus, suffered. +The conquest of the city by Constantine, and the fearful battle fought +in its immediate neighbourhood between Stilicho and Attila, produced +little change in the condition of Verona, which continued to partake of +the general fortunes of the empire, until the reign of Theodoric the +Great. +</p><p> +After the invasion of Italy by the Ostrogoths, under Theodoric, and his +victory over Odoacer, which ensured him the sovereignty of the country, +from the Alps to Calabria, about the year 493, he fixed his capital at +Verona, or, as it was called by the Goths, Bern:<a id="footnotetag1" name="footnotetag1"></a><a href="#footnote1"><sup>1</sup></a> there he built a +magnificent palace, which communicated, by a continued portico, +with principal gate of the city. He renewed the Roman walls and +fortifications, repaired the aqueducts, and constructed commodious +baths and other public buildings.<a id="footnotetag2" name="footnotetag2"></a><a href="#footnote2"><sup>2</sup></a> +</p><p> +After the death of Theodoric, A.D. 526, in the 37th year of his reign, +the disturbed reigns of his daughter Amalasontha and her son Athalaric +were an earnest of the distractions that Verona suffered, in common with +the rest of Italy, till the taking of the city by Charlemagne, when a +short period of tranquillity was enjoyed. Yet there a part of the great +family tragedy, which secured his possession of the empire, was acted. +He found in the town the widow and children of his brother Carloman, and +they were sacrificed to his security. His eldest son, Pepin Hunchback, +died at Verona, and was buried in St. Zeno's church, which he had +founded. The present magnificent temple stands nearly on the site of +Pepin's humbler foundation; and the great stone, now shown in the court, +called the tomb of King Pepin, is very possibly that of Charlemagne's +son. +</p><p> +During the disastrous period that followed, Verona underwent all the +evils that its situation (at the very entrance to Italy from Germany) +was so peculiarly calculated to draw upon it. The invasions of the +Othos, the wars of the Guelfs and Ghibelines, the struggles of the +people against oppression, and between the oppressors for power, from +time to time distressed the city and robbed the citizens. Yet the very +struggle for freedom and power ensured a portion of the former to the +people, who were courted by all parties; and Verona became rich by the +visits of her masters, and of such as courted her assistance. But it was +in the thirteenth century that she became the queen of northern Italy, +under the reign of the Scaligers, or della Scalas, who, from simple +citizens, were raised, by their valour, their humanity, and the free +choice of the people, to the sovereignty of the state. +</p><p> +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page323" name="page323"></a>[pg 323]</span> +During one hundred and twenty-seven years, ten princes of that +illustrious house reigned in Verona. The first six were men of +extraordinary talent, and, for the time in which they lived, of +extraordinary virtue. They not only enlarged the boundaries of the +Veronese, but subjected several distant cities. Albert della Scala added +Trent and Riva, Parma and Reggio, Belluno and Vicenza, to his dominions; +and Can Grande conquered Padua, Trevigi, Mantua, and Feltre. It is his +body that is laid in the plain sarcophagus over the door of the little +church of St. Mary of the Scaligers, only adorned with the figure of a +knight on horseback, of nearly the natural size, above it. The other +tombs, on which it looks down, are those of his successors: they are +gorgeous in ornament, and form a conspicuous group among the picturesque +buildings of the city; but they are built over the ashes of men under +whom their family and state declined, until the Visconti of Milan, +having overcome the princes, built the citadel, and fortified Castello +San Pietro. +</p><p> +We must not omit to state that under Bartolomeo, the third of the +Scaligers, that tragic end was put to the rivalry of the great families, +Capelletti and Montecchi, which served Bandello as the foundation of one +of his most popular novels, and Shakspeare as the plot of Romeo and +Juliet. The tomb now shown as that of Juliet, is an ancient sarcophagus +of red granite: it has suffered from the fire which, burnt down the +church where it was originally placed. +</p><p> +The Visconti did not long rule in Verona: about the year 1405, the +Veronese placed themselves under the protection of Venice, whose good +and ill fortune they partook of, until the period of the French +Revolution, when, in 1796, the Venetian Republic ceased to exist. In +1798, the German army occupied Verona, and thought itself secure behind +walls which had stood against Catinat, and which had been improved and +strengthened by Prince Eugene; but, in 1801, it fell into the hands of +the French, and became part of the kingdom of Italy. The events of 1814 +placed the Veronese under the dominion of Austria; and, in 1822, this +ancient capital of the North of Italy was the scene of a congress, +wherein the divisions of Europe were remodelled, and its proportions +changed in a manner that it is to be hoped will, in the end, conduce to +its prosperity. Never had such a royal meeting taken place since the +days of Theodoric, whose companions were princes from every nation on +earth. +</p><p> +But they looked on the ruins of Verona. The Roman Amphitheatre is, +perhaps, the least injured of all the public buildings. On the walls, +the four bridges, the castles, and even the churches, the havoc of mines +and the disfiguring effects of bullets are every where visible. The +poverty that war leaves behind is to be seen in the neglected state of +the public buildings, the substitution of gilded and silvered wood for +the sacred golden candlesticks of the altar, and the destruction or +disappearance of pictures of great price. Yet enough remains to show +that Verona once partook of the riches, the polish, the luxury of +Venice. There are relics of her schools, and fragments of her beautiful +architecture. From the Gothic times to the present, we may trace, +step by step, the improvements and variations of public and private +buildings. The majestic San Zeno is at the head of the churches: there +is nothing but what is ancient, and nothing new or incongruous offends +the eye. The Cathedral still preserves one of Titian's most precious +works. In the portico are two figures in high relief, of white marble: +on the sword of one is the word Durindarda; is this the effigy of +Charlemagne's Orlando? The ancient church of San Fermo, restored in +1319, offers some of the earliest pictures after the first dawn of the +revival of painting, by Stefano da Zevio. To the church of St. George, +beyond the Adige, one of the great works of Paolo Veronese, which do so +much honour to himself and to his native city, has been restored, after +having been carried to Paris. Indeed, there is not one of the many +churches of Verona which is not interesting on account of its antiquity, +the works of art contained in it, or its story; and the public squares +and lordly palaces, and the towers that once served as watch-towers to +the proud nobles who guarded them, all force the spectator to look back +with wonder and admiration to the times when a sentiment of political +independence could produce such monuments of glory, even in the midst +of war and in a petty state. +</p> +<hr/> +<p> +The preceding extract has occupied so much space, that we can give +little more than an enumeration of the other contents of the <i>Gem</i>. +Among the prose, we have been most pleased with Walter Errick, a +touching tale, by the Hon. Mrs. Norton, (author of Sorrows of Rosalie;) +and the Mining Curate, by +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page324" name="page324"></a>[pg 324]</span> + Mr. Carne; both of which, however, terminate +somewhat too gloomily. Next is the Man and the Lioness, by Lord +Nugent—not a "Lioness" of Exeter 'Change, but a cook and housekeeper to +a country gentleman, by all around called <i>the Lioness</i> a name, "in +the strictest sense, <i>de guerre</i>." Knowing the noble author's +<i>forte</i> in gastronomy, we are almost induced to think the cook, or +<i>Lioness</i> a portrait from life. With respect to the name, his +lordship observes "it might have had some reference to those ample and +bushy ringlets, of a colour which by the friends of the wearer, is +generally called bright auburn, and which, on those high days when Mrs. +Grace was wont to stalk forth from her solitude, swelled around a +sanguine countenance, in volume, in texture, and in hue, not unlike the +mane of that awful animal." To our view, Mrs. Grace is a sort of Mrs. +Subtle, but who, with better luck than the housekeeper in the play, +marries the old gentleman, and after an odd adventure at a masquerade, +buries him in the Abbey Church, Bath. It is pleasantly told, and there +are in it many genuine touches of humour. Miss Mitford has next Little +Miss Wren, a beautiful trifle for old and young; and last is the Count +of Trionto, as deep a piece of Italian romance as need accompany one of +Mr. Martin's designs. +</p><p> +The poetical pieces, which are numerous, are of a less lugubrious cast +than usual. Mr. Kenney, the playwright, has a rustic plaint:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p> Dear Tom, my brave free-hearted lad,</p> +<p class="i2"> Where'er you go, God bless you!</p> +<p> You'd better speak than wish you had,</p> +<p class="i2"> If love for me distress you.</p> +<p> To me they say, your thoughts incline,</p> +<p class="i2"> And possibly they may so;</p> +<p> Then, once for all, to quiet mine,</p> +<p class="i2"> Tom, if you love me, say so.</p> +</div></div> +<p> +—All this is mighty pleasant for a plaint, and just such as Mr. Kenney +would write on one of the garden-seats of the Tuileries, or in the +green-room of the little theatre in the Haymarket. The lines on a young +collegian and his "dearest Lily," are equally playful:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p> Farewell to the hound and the cover,</p> +<p class="i2"> Farewell to the heath and the glen!</p> +<p> But when <i>Term</i> and the <i>Little-go's</i> over,</p> +<p class="i2"> He'll be with you, dear Lily again.</p> +</div></div> +<p> +—But these are hardly polished enough for the <i>Gem</i>. In another +vein, Dr. Bowring has some fine stanzas "to GOD," from the Dutch. A few +lines by the unfortunate John Keats strongly tell his frenzied hours. A +Legend of the Mirror has too much chivalry to belong to our lists, but +is very pretty. The Lone Old Man, by the Hon. Mrs. Norton, has all the +pathos of her best compositions. Still, the most striking of the poetry +are the Tichborne Dole, a ballad of rare antique beauty, by Lord +Nugent—and a Highland Eclogue, by the Ettrick Shepherd—both which are +too long for extract. +</p><p> +In its Illustrations, the <i>Gem</i> is more than usually fortunate, and +their selection and execution is honourable to the taste and talent of +R. Cooper, Esq. R.A. The Frontispiece, Rose Malcolm, from his pencil, +by C. Rolls, is extremely beautiful. Wilkie's Saturday Night is ably +engraved by J. Mitchell; and Tyre, by S. Lacy, from a picture by T. +Creswick contended for our choice with Verona, which we have adopted. +Three or four of the plates have much fun and humour: the Stolen +Interview, after Stephanoff—an old lady being asleep at noonday in an +easy chair, her daughter profits by the nap to return the attentions +of her devoted admirer at the open door; the girl's expression is +admirable. Another, the Coquette, after Chalon, is engraved in a light, +sprightly style by Humphreys; a beautiful French flirt, at her toilet, +is repelling with her fan—that wand of coquetry—a French Abbe on +bended knee, whilst her other hand is rapturously seized by a second +suitor, just peeping from behind a screen: if such be</p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p> A sample of the <i>old régime</i>,</p> +<p> I hope the new one's better.</p> +</div></div> +<p> +Another pretty piece of intrigue—a girl stealing an opened love-letter +from a fair one dozing on a sofa, and a third advancing on tiptoe from +the door of the room, is highly creditable to Mr. Smirke, the painter, +and A.W. Warren, the engraver. Among the more elaborate plates is an +exquisite creation of Howard's pencil, the Infant Bacchus engraved +by J.C. Edwards; and last, though not least in effect, is Trionto, +a mountain wild and chaos of storm, from a drawing by Martin; but +the engraving hardly approaches the design. +</p><p> +There is much novelty in the present <i>Gem:</i> the prints, prose, and +poetry sparkle most characteristically, and are just such as the title +of the work would lead one to expect to find in it; which is a rare +merit among new books. +</p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page325" name="page325"></a>[pg 325]</span></p> + + +<h2> +Friendship's Offering.</h2> + +<p> +We believe the editor of the present volume to be Mr. Thomas Pringle, +of whose taste and fitness for the task, we spoke in our "Spirit of the +Annuals" for 1829. It contains five or six striking prose articles, and, +we think, fewer poetical pieces than the former volume. Among the tales +entitled to special mention, as evincing considerable talent and more +than the ordinary interest of mere sketches—are Il Vesuviano, a +Neapolitan Story—the Voyage Out, by Mrs. Bowdich—the Lover's Leap, +a Highland Legend, by Leigh Ritchie—a tale of the White Bristol, +(30 pages) from the powerful pen of Mr. Banim—the Fords of Callum, +by the Ettrick Shepherd—Mourad and Euxabeet, a Persian Tale, by Mr. +Fraser—and Whatever betide—for the right, a tale of Old London—the +titles of which will give the reader some idea of the rich and varied +contents of the prose department. The Outline of a Life, by Mr. Kennedy +has all the "fitful fancy" of his earlier productions, but the piece +selected by us for quotation, is</p> + +<h3> +LUCIFER.</h3> +<h4> +<i>By J.A. St. John</i>.<a id="footnotetag3" name="footnotetag3"></a><a href="#footnote3"><sup>3</sup></a></h4> + +<p> +In an ancient chronicle of Arezzo, which still remains in manuscript +in the church of St. Angelo, in that city,<a id="footnotetag4" name="footnotetag4"></a><a href="#footnote4"><sup>4</sup></a> there is found the very +extraordinary story of the painter Spinello Aretino, to which Lanzi +alludes briefly, in his History of Painting in Italy. No farther notice +has, I believe, been taken of it by any other writer whatever, although +it appears to me to be singularly well calculated to gratify or to +excite the curiosity of those who love to pry into the mysteries of +human nature, and to mark the strange avenues by which mortals sometimes +approach the gates of death. +</p><p> +When Spinello first arrived at Arezzo, he took lodgings in the house +of an artist, who, although he possessed no great share of genius, had +contrived to amass considerable wealth. This artist was no other than +Bernardo Daddi, whose son, also named Bernardo, afterwards became the +pupil of Spinello, and almost eclipsed his father's reputation. Besides +this son, Bernardo had several other children, and among the rest a +daughter named Beatrice, then just verging upon womanhood. With this +daughter it was to be expected that Spinello would immediately be in +love; but our young artist had left behind him, in his native village, +a charming girl, to whom he was in a manner betrothed; and he was the +last man in the world to look upon another with a wandering heart. He, +therefore, lived in the same house, and ate at the same table with +Beatrice, without even discovering that she was beautiful; while they +who merely caught a glance of her at church, or as she moved, like a +vision, along the public walk, pretended to be consumed with passion. +</p><p> +Fathers, whether their children are beautiful or not, are often desirous +of preserving an image of them during their golden age, when time, like +the summer sun, is only ripening the fruit he will afterwards wither, +and cause to drop from the bough. Bernardo was possessed by this desire; +and as he never dreamed that any pencil in Arezzo, but his own, could +reproduce upon canvass the lovely countenance of Beatrice, he spent, as +from his opulence he could now afford to do, a considerable portion +of his time in painting her portrait. The girl, however, who was not +greatly addicted to meditation and could not read, for books had not +then come into fashion, grew melancholy during these long sittings, +and her father perceived it. At first no remedy presented itself. He +endeavoured, indeed, to converse with her a little in his uncouth way; +but he had not cultivated the art of talking, and quickly exhausted his +topics. He next introduced his son Bernardo, the junior of Beatrice by +one year, whose efforts at creating amusement, being constrained and +unnatural, for he came against his will, were little more successful +than his own. At length the idea of engaging the services of his lodger, +with whom he had observed that Beatrice sometimes laughed and chatted +of an evening, occurred to him, and he forthwith mentioned the subject +to Spinello. The young man entertained a very strong affection for +Bernardo, who, if he wanted genius, was far from being destitute of +amiable and endearing qualities; and therefore, notwithstanding that he +felt it would greatly interfere with his studies, and trench upon his +time, he immediately determined to comply with the old man's desires. +</p><p> +The next morning saw Spinello installed in his new office. Beatrice was +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page326" name="page326"></a>[pg 326]</span> +seated like a statue in an antique chair with her arms crossed upon her +bosom, her eyes fixed upon vacancy, and her features screwed in spite +of herself, into an expression of weariness and impatience. By degrees, +however, as Spinello conversed with her, now of one trifle, then of +another, her eyes involuntarily wandered to that portion of the room in +which the young dialectician sat involved in shadow, and exerting all +his eloquence and ingenuity to awaken her attention. The experiment +succeeded. Spinello was entreated to be present the next day, the day +following, and, in fact, every day, until the portrait was completed, +or, at least, nearly so. He gazed, as I have said, upon the face of +Beatrice, and would sometimes spend a moment in examining the inanimate +representation of it, and in instituting a comparison between it and +the original; until one day forgetting in his idolatry of loveliness +the respect due to old age, he snatched the pencil from the hand of +Bernardo, and with singular ardour and impatience exclaimed—"Let me +finish it!" Without uttering a word, the old man, awed by the vehemence +of his manner, yielded up the pencil; and Spinello proceeded, as if in +a dream, to embody upon the canvass the idea of beauty which inhabited +his soul. +</p><p> +Spinello, thus entrapped by his own enthusiasm, could do no other than +proceed with the portrait. Though infinitely desirous not to wound the +feelings of Daddi, he perceived at once that it would be necessary +to recast the whole design of the piece to change the style of +colouring—in a word, to paint a new picture. Daddi, who loved his +child still more than his art, and wished to preserve and transmit to +posterity a likeness of her, by whomsoever painted, was not offended, +though he was a little hurt, by this freedom, and without murmur or +objection allowed Spinello to accomplish his undertaking in whatever +manner he pleased. The young man went to work with a satisfaction and +alacrity he had never before experienced; and the image of Beatrice, +passing into his soul, to be thence reflected, as from one mirror upon +another, on the canvass, shed the light of Paradise over his fancy—as +the musk-deer perfumes the thicket in which it slumbers. +</p><p> +Though this picture is greatly celebrated in Italy, and especially +at Arezzo, I shall not pause to describe it minutely. Beatrice is +represented as reclining, in a chaste and thoughtful attitude, on an +antique couch at the foot of a pillar: flowers and flowering shrubs +appear to shed their perfume around; and a spreading tree, with a vine +loaded with grapes climbing up its trunk and branches, stretches over +her. In the back ground the sky only, and a few dusky trees, appear. +The design, it will be perceived is meagre enough, but the execution +is incomparably beautiful; and it may be safely affirmed, that if +immortality upon earth was all that Bernardo coveted for his child, +his prayer has been granted. A thousand pens have been employed in +celebrating this picture, and Italian literature must perish ere +Beatrice be forgotten. +</p><p> +I shall not pretend to say by what means, since it was not by words, +Spinello discovered that he was beloved by Beatrice: but assuredly the +discovery gave him considerable pain. The form of Beatrice would rise up +both in his sleeping and waking dreams before his fancy, among his most +cherished associations; and her features, although he observed it not, +mingled themselves, as it were, with the elements of every picture he +painted. +</p><p> +While this was the state of his mind and feelings, Spinello was engaged +to paint his famous picture of the "Fall of the Angels," for the church +of St. Angelo at Arezzo. The design of this great work, which has been +celebrated by Vasari, Moderni, and other writers on Italian art, was +at once magnificent and original; and the countenance and figure of +Lucifer, upon which the artist appeared to have concentrated all the +rays, as it were, of his genius, were conceived in a manner fearfully +sublime. Spinello disdained the vulgar method of binding together, by +an arbitrary link, all the attributes of ugliness, which artists have +generally pursued when they would represent the greatest of the fallen +angels; and, after meditating long upon the best mode of embodying +the principle of evil, determined to clothe it with a certain form of +beauty, though of a kind not calculated to delight, but on the contrary +to awaken in the soul all those feelings of uneasiness, anxiety, +apprehension and terror, which usually slumber in the abysses of our +nature, and are disturbed only on very extraordinary occasions. +</p><p> +From the moment in which he began to delineate this miraculous figure, +a singular change seemed to have taken place in his whole nature. His +imagination, like a sea put in motion by the wind, appeared to be in +perpetual agitation. He was restless and uneasy when +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page327" name="page327"></a>[pg 327]</span> + any other +occupation kept him away from his picture. As his health was good, and +his frame vigorous though susceptible, this state of excitement was at +first rather pleasing than otherwise. He indulged himself, therefore, +with those agitating visions, as they may be called, which the +contemplation or recollection of his Lucifer called up before his mind. +At length, however, the idea of the mighty fallen angel, whose form he +had delighted to clothe with terror and sublimity, began to present +itself under a new character to his mind; and instead of being a subject +to be fondled, as it were, and caressed by the imagination, seemed as +it approached maturity to manifest certain mysterious qualities, which, +engendered terror and apprehension rather than delight. +</p><p> +Spinello's <i>studio</i> now began to be a place of torture to him, and +he turned his eyes towards the amusements of the world, which he had +hitherto shunned and scorned. He frequented the society of other young +artists, with whom he often strolled into the woods, or rather groves, +for which this portion of Etruria was always remarkable, sometimes +traversing or descending the Val d'Arno, at others roaming about the +ruins, or visiting the site of Pliny's Tuscan Villa. On returning in +high spirits from one of these excursions, he learned by the letter of a +friend that the object of his first love had proved unfaithful, and been +united in marriage to another. This event, though it had no connexion +whatever with his former cause of uneasiness, threw a new gloom over his +imagination, in the midst of which the figure of Lucifer, dilating, like +an image in the mists of the desert, to superhuman dimensions, stood up +to scare and torment him afresh. +</p><p> +The unhappy young man, wounded in his feelings, and haunted by the +shadow of his own idea, now fled to Beatrice for relief; and her tone +of thinking, which had in it something of the Stoic cast, united with +a manner at once playful and dignified, delighted him exceedingly. They +conversed together on many occasions for whole hours; and the trains of +thought which at such times swept like glorious pageants through his +mind, followed too rapidly to allow of the existence of melancholy. +Sometimes, indeed, Spinello would observe that when he gazed in rapture, +rather than in passion, upon the face of Beatrice, a certain something, +like a ray of light, or a spark of fire fallen upon an altar, would +penetrate his soul, and kindle a sudden and fierce pain; but it usually +passed quickly away, and was forgotten. By degrees, however, its +recurrence became more frequent, and the pain it inflicted more intense; +and consequently there soon mingled a considerable portion of uneasiness +in his intercourse with his fair and beautiful friend. +</p><p> +At length the picture was completed, and placed in the church of St. +Angelo, above the altar; and Spinello felt relieved, as if the weight of +the whole universe had been removed from his spirit. He now chatted with +Bernardo, or with his pupil, and the other young artists of Arezzo; or +enjoyed the passionate and almost solemn converse of Beatrice, who from +a lively, laughing girl, had now been transformed, by some hidden +process of nature, into a lofty-minded, commanding woman. +</p><p> +His constant and almost devotional application to his great picture +had considerably shattered his nerves, and he felt his natural +susceptibility so much increased, that, although it was now summer, the +horrible idea which had so long haunted him soon returned; and a cloud +spread itself over his imagination, which all the hurricanes that vex +the ocean could not have blown away. To dissipate this unaccountable +sadness, he wandered forth alone, or with Beatrice, over the sunny +fields; but he felt, as he wandered, that his heart was a fountain which +sent forth two streams,—the one cool, delicious, healing, as the rivers +of Paradise; the other dark, bitter, and burning, like the waters of +hell; and they gushed forth alternately, accordingly as his thoughts +communicated with the recollection of his own picture, or with the +landscapes around him, painted in celestial colours by the hand of God. +Beatrice, who walked by his side, was herself a mystery. To feel the +pressure of her hand, to hear her breathe, to listen to the music of her +voice, was a bliss unspeakable; and there was a sovereign beauty in her +countenance which seemed to cast forth rays of joy and gladness upon +every thing around her, as the sun lights up with smiles the cool +waves of the morning. Yet Spinello felt that as often as this fragment +of Paradise, as it might justly be termed, was turned towards him, +lightnings appeared to gleam from it which dismayed and withered his +soul. At such moments a piercing cold darted through his frame; and when +it passed away, a tremor and shivering succeeded, which withered all +his energies. In fact, whether in the society of Beatrice or +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page328" name="page328"></a>[pg 328]</span> + not, +Spinello now found that the terrible form of Lucifer, which his genius +had created, was ever present with him, standing, as it were, like a +mighty shadow, between him and the external world, and eclipsing the +glory of earth and heaven. +</p><p> +The summer passed away in this manner, and autumn drew near; and as the +glories of the sun became dimmer, the figure of Lucifer appeared to +increase in dimensions and brilliancy, and acquired more power over +the imagination of Spinello. Tortured by an enemy who appeared to +have passed by some dreadful process into the very core of his being, +Spinello felt his energies and his health departing from him; while his +imagination, into which every faculty of his mind appeared to be fast +melting, increased in force and volume, as a wintry torrent is increased +by the waters of every neighbouring streamlet. At length it occurred to +him that perhaps this demon of his fancy, which he was well convinced +was an unreal phantom, yet could not banish, might possess no +resemblance to the figure his pencil had produced; and might disappear, +or at least be reduced to the condition of ordinary ideas, by a +comparison with the bodily representative of his original conception. +This thought presented itself to his mind one night in October, as he +lay tossing about in sleepless agony upon his bed. He instantly started +up, dressed, threw on his cloke, which the coolness of the night, windy +and dark, rendered necessary; and seizing a lighted torch, issued forth +towards the church. +</p><p> +The holy edifice stood in those days, when Arezzo was but a small place, +at some little distance from the dwellings of the citizens, and was +surrounded by a thick grove of sycamores mingled with pine trees. +The townsfolk had long retired to rest, and the streets were empty and +desolate. Not even the shadow of a monk flitted by him as he passed, +with his torch flaring in the wind, and casting an awful and almost +magical light upon the houses, painted, according to the fashion of +the time and country, in broad stripes of deep red and white. As he +approached the church, the wind, whistling through the pine branches, +which swung to and fro, and flapped against each other, like the wings +of the fabled Simoorg, or of some mighty demon struggling with the +blast, sounded like numerous voices issuing from the black roof of +clouds above him, and shrieking as he passed. At length he entered the +church, which in those times stood open day and night to the piety of +the people, and drew near the altar. Upon the walls on both sides were +suspended rude images of the Saviour carved in wood, and blackened by +time, and numerous antique scripture pieces by Giotto, Cimabue, and +other fathers of the art, which seemed to start into momentary existence +as Spinello's torch cast its red light upon them. At every step, his +heart beat violently against his side, and appeared as if it would mount +into his throat and choke him. But his courage did not fail, and he +ascended the Mosaic steps of the chancel, and, with his torch in one +hand, climbed up upon the altar and lifted his eyes towards the picture. +As he stood on tip-toe on the altar and passed his torch along the wall, +the mighty ranks of the fallen angels, in headlong flight before the +thunderbolts of heaven, seemed to emerge from the darkness, with the +awful form of Lucifer in the extreme rear reluctantly yielding even to +Omnipotence itself, while blasting lightnings played about his brow and +eyes, that flashed with the fires of inextinguishable fury. On first +casting his eyes over his picture, a feeling of self-complacency and +pride stole over the soul of the artist. But as he continued to gaze +with a kind of idolatry at the work of his own hands, his imagination +became excited by degrees, and life appeared to be infused into the +figure of the gigantic demon. In spite of the singular beauty of the +features, which looked like those of an archangel, the face before him +appeared to be but a mask, beneath which all the passions of hell were +struggling, gnawing, and stinging, and devouring the heart of their +possessor. "The baleful eyes, that witnessed huge affliction and +dismay," appeared to flame in the obscure light, like the fabled +carbuncle of the Kaianian king; and the mighty limbs seemed to make an +effort to free themselves from the canvass, and spring forth upon the +floor of God's temple. As this idea rushed upon the mind of Spinello, +the wind, moaning through the aisles, and multiplied by the echoes, +sounded like the voices of wailing and desolation, which, the +imagination may suppose, mingled in dismal concert when the spirits fell +from heaven; and the artist, overpowered by the crowd of horrors which +fastened like hungry vultures upon his fancy, sprang from the altar, +and, stumbling in his haste, extinguished his torch. His imagination, +now wrought up to a frenzied pitch by the awful scene, distinguished +in every moan of the blast +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page329" name="page329"></a>[pg 329]</span> + the shrieks of a fallen spirit; and the +wind, as if to increase his misery, raised its voice and swept through +the sacred building with tremendous power, howling, and shrieking, and +gibbering as it passed. The demoniac excitement of the moment now became +too great to be endured. Spinello sunk upon the ground, struck his +forehead against an angle of the altar, and fainted away. How long he +remained in this condition, he could never conjecture; but when he +recovered his senses, all around him appeared like the illusion of a +dream. The wind had died away, the darkness had disappeared, the moon +had risen, and was now throwing in its mild and beautiful light through +the long windows upon the checkered pavement; and, rising from the +ground, he crawled out of the church and reached his lodgings. +</p><p> +The next day he was too unwell to leave his bed; and Bernardo, with his +whole family, who loved the young man, and were anxious to discover and +remove the cause of his misery, came to see and console him. Beatrice +was the first who entered; and when Spinello heard the sound of her +footsteps, which he could most accurately distinguish, a beam of joy +visited his heart, a tear of delight trembled in his eye, and he blessed +her fervently. When he lifted his eyes to her countenance, however, the +vision of the preceding night seemed to be renewed, and the hated form +of Lucifer, with all his infernal legions, swept before his fancy. +Ignorant of what was passing through his mind, and with a heart yearning +towards him with more than a sister's love, Beatrice approached his bed; +and, kneeling down beside it, took hold of his hand which was stretched +out languidly towards her. She felt that it was burning with fever, and +that his whole frame was at that moment agitated in a fearful manner. He +spoke not a word; but turned away his face, as if by a desperate effort +to recover his composure, while he held her hand with a convulsive +grasp. She saw his chest heave, and his eyes roll awfully, as he +gradually turned towards her. And at length, finding it was vain to +struggle any longer to conceal his feelings, he threw himself upon +his face, pressed her trembling hand to his lips, and burst into a +passionate and uncontrollable flood of tears. Beatrice, surprised +and overcome by the scene, hid her own face in the clothes and wept +with him; while her father, her mother, and the whole family, stood +motionless upon the floor of the apartment, transfixed with sorrow +and oblivious of every other consideration. +</p><p> +By degrees the young man recovered his composure, as persons generally +do after shedding tears, and his heart seemed to be relieved. Beatrice +also experienced the same change; and her father, a humane and +compassionate old man, supposing that love might have some share in the +misery of his lodger, after motioning his whole family to leave the +room, drew near the bed, and inquired of Spinello whether his affection +for Beatrice had any share in his present unhappiness; and whether her +hand, for her heart he perceived was already his, would make any change +in the state of his mind. At this new proof of the old man's love, +Spinello could scarcely contain himself. For the moment Lucifer left +him, while visions of delight and joy painted themselves upon his fancy. +To reveal to Bernardo, however, or to any other human being, the real +cause of his misery, would, he was fully persuaded, expose him to the +suspicion of insanity. His expressions of gratitude, though few and +brief, were vehement and sincere; and his mind becoming wholly occupied +with this new idea, his fever soon left him; and in a few days he was +again able to breathe the balmy air, with his future bride by his side. +</p><p> +His health still appeared, however, to be but feeble; and the benefit of +change of residence being understood in those times as well as in our +own, Spinello was counselled to remove for a season to some sea-port +town on the coast of Naples. Through mere chance, and not from any +classical predilection, he chose Gaëta, anciently Cajeta, whither +Laelius and Scipio used to retire from the politics of Rome, to amuse +themselves with picking up shells upon the sand. To render the excursion +more pleasant and profitable, Bernardo determined to accompany his +intended son-in-law, and to make Beatrice also a partner of the journey; +and their preparations being soon completed, they departed in good +spirits, and in due time arrived at the place of their destination. +</p><p> +Lodgings were taken in the neighbourhood of the town, near the beach; +and the lovers, now comparatively happy, daily strolled together along +the margin of the Tyrrhene sea, which, rolling its blue waves in +tranquil succession towards the shore, broke in soft murmurs at their +feet. +</p><p> +They had now been some months at Gaëta, when Beatrice was suddenly +called home by her mother, who had been seized with a dangerous illness. +Her +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page330" name="page330"></a>[pg 330]</span> + father of course accompanied her on her return: but Spinello, in +spite of his entreaties and remonstrances, was compelled to remain where +he was; as Beatrice, who feared that Arezzo might recall all his gloomy +ideas, peremptorily insisted that he should never return, but settle at +Gaëta, or remove to Naples. He therefore submitted, but with a heavy +heart; and saw his guardians, as it were, depart from him, and leave +him to himself. +</p><p> +What he seemed to fear when they left him, soon came to pass. With +solitude Lucifer returned; and he now presented himself so frequently, +and in such awful colours to Spinello's mind, that the little fabric of +health which had been reared with so much care, was quickly thrown down, +while visions of horror swept over the ruins. His health, which now +declined more rapidly than ever, was soon irrecoverably destroyed; his +frame wasted visibly away; and as his body grew weaker, his visions +increased in horror, until at length the intellect tottered upon its +basis, and almost gave way beneath their intolerable pressure. In +a few weeks he was shrunk to a skeleton, while his eyes shone with +preternatural brilliancy; so that the people of the house where he +lodged, were terrified at his appearance and avoided his looks. For his +own part, he was scarcely conscious, of the existence of the external +world, every thing around him appearing like the creations of a +dream—mere shadows with whom he could have no sympathy. There seemed, +in fact, to be but two beings in the universe—himself and Lucifer; and +he felt that he was engaged in a struggle which must terminate the +existence of the one or the other. When he succeeded in freeing himself +for a moment from the fangs of this vision, and could repel it to some +little distance from his mental eye, he perceived, as distinctly as +possible, its illusory nature, and wondered at the power it exerted over +his imagination. If, however, he obtained a momentary respite of this +kind, it was not, as in the case of Prometheus (whose vulture was of the +same brood as his demon), by night, but at sunrise, when the god of the +Magi stepped, as it were, upon his throne to receive the homage of the +earth. The hour of repose, as night is to the fortunate and the happy, +was to him the hour of torture; and he daily lingered about the +sea-shore, anxiously watching the setting sun, and trembling more and +more as the glorious luminary approached the termination of his career +and disappeared behind the purple waves. As soon as darkness descended +upon the earth, Lucifer, if absent before, invariably alighted with +it, and stood beside his victim, who clapping his hands upon his eyes, +would fly with a howl or a shriek towards the habitations of men. +</p><p> +At length he became convinced that his last hour drew near; and he +blessed God that his struggle was about to terminate. As soon as this +idea took possession of his mind, he grew a little more tranquil; and, +excepting when he thought of Beatrice, awaited the final hour with +a kind of satisfaction. In this pious mood of mind, he one evening +wandered to his usual haunt on the seaside. The sun had set—the +moon and all the stars were in heaven—and the earth and the sea +were sleeping in the silver light. He set him down on a lofty rock +overhanging the sea, which was deep and still in that part; and with the +waves on his left, and the earth in all its loveliness on his right, he +raised his eyes towards heaven, and was absorbed in devotion. At that +moment, a face of unutterable beauty presented itself in the bright +moonlight before him. With a single glance, he discovered it was that +of Lucifer, but softened to angelic loveliness. Uttering a wild and +piercing shriek, he started from it towards the edge of the precipice. +Beatrice for it was she—instantly caught him by the hand to drag him +back; and pronounced his name. The words and the touch dissipated his +illusion; and with the rapidity of lightning revealed to his mind the +fatal secret of his misery. He now saw that, having been occupied with +thoughts of her when he painted his picture, he had lent a portion of +her beauty to the fallen archangel; and hence the pain her looks had +occasionally inflicted on him. While this conviction darted into his +mind, he was already falling over the precipice; but he still grappled +at the rock, and made desperate efforts to recover himself. Beatrice, +also, finding that he was going and drawing her after him, for she still +held him by the hand, caught hold of a tuft of grass which grew on the +edge of the cliff and grasped it convulsively. In this situation they +hung for an instant, suspended over the abyss; but the grass-tuft by +which she clung gradually gave way; and in another instant a sullen +plunge in the deep waters below told that the loves and miseries of +Spinello and Beatrice were ended. +</p><p> +<i>Note</i>.—The passage of Lanzi, to which I referred at the +commencement, is as follows:— +</p><p> +"The 'Fall of the Angels,' still remains in St. +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page331" name="page331"></a>[pg 331]</span> + Angelo, at Arezzo, +in which Lucifer is represented so terrible, that it afterwards haunted +the dreams of the artist, and, deranging both his mind and body, +hastened his death. Bernardo Daddi was his scholar."—<i>History of +Painting in, Italy</i>, vol. i. p. 65. <i>Roscoe's Translation</i>. +</p> +<hr/> +<p> +First in the poetry is the Bechuana Boy, an affecting narrative, by Mr. +Pringle, as may be implied from one verse:</p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p> He came with open aspect bland,</p> +<p class="i2"> And modestly before me stood,</p> +<p> Caressing with a kindly hand</p> +<p class="i2"> That fawn of gentle brood;</p> +<p> Then meekly gazing in my face</p> +<p class="i2"> Said in the language of his race,</p> +<p> With smiling look yet pensive tone—</p> +<p class="i2"> "Stranger—I'm in the world alone."</p> +</div></div> +<p> +The Irish Mother to her Child, a Song, by Mr. Banim, has great force and +feeling, with the date 1828, significantly appended to this stanza:</p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p> Alas! my boy, so beautiful! alas! my love, so brave!</p> +<p> And must your manly Irish limbs still drag it to the grave?</p> +<p> And thou, my son, yet have a son, foredoomed a slave to be?</p> +<p> Whose mother, too, must weep o'er him the tears I weep o'er thee.</p> +</div></div> +<p> +Here, too is an exquisite snatch—on Memory:</p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p> Fond Memory, like a mockingbird,</p> +<p> Within the widow'd heart is heard,</p> +<p> Repeating every touching tone</p> +<p> Of voices that from earth hath gone.</p> +</div></div> +<p> +Queen Catharine's Sorrow is a ballad of mournful minstrelsy. Next is +the Bard's Address to his youngest Daughter, by Mr. Hogg—beginning</p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p> Come to my arms, my dear wee pet!</p> +<p> My gleesome, gentle Harriet!</p> +</div></div> +<p> +with all the sweetness and affection of shepherd love. The Poet's Oak, +by Allan Cunningham, is a beautiful finish to the volume, which is +altogether equal to any of its compeers. +</p><p> +The Illustrations, twelve in number, may challenge comparison with those +of any similar work. Lyra, the frontispiece, after Wood, by T.A. Dean, +is one of the loveliest creations of art; Vesuvius, after Turner, by +Jeavons, is a most elaborate picture of that sublime spectacle of +Nature; Echo, from Arnald's picture in the last exhibition, is finely +executed by Goodall; and with still greater fidelity, Wilkie's Reading +the News, is engraved by H. Robinson; but spirited and finished as +it is, we must object to the quantity of smoke from the joint on +the baker's board, and more especially from the pie; besides which, +the bakehouse must be at some distance. The picture has a pleasant +accompaniment, by Mr. Charles Knight. Catharine of Arragon, and Mary +Queen of Scots and the Commissioners of the Scottish Church, are so +purely historical as almost to tell their own tale; the first, after +Leslie, by W. Humphreys, is in every line a lesson. The remainder of the +plates are of unequal merit, and the elegantly embossed plum-colour +leather binding is even an improvement on that of last year. +</p> +<hr/> + +<h3> +The Amulet.</h3> + +<p> +This has always been with us a favourite work, and we rejoice to say +that the present is equal to any of its predecessors. It is more +sprightly than its title implies, and even less sombre than the +<i>Friendship's Offering</i>; and the interest of most of the prose +articles is far from perishable. Two of them by Dr. Walsh—Are there +more worlds inhabited than our globe?—and the First Invasion of +Ireland,—are excellent papers, though too <i>azure</i> for some who +have not the philosophical mind of Lady Mary S——d. Among the Tales, +the Two Delhis; Annie Leslie, by Mrs. S.C. Hall; the Glen of St. Kylas, +by Mr. Carne; the Anxious Wife, by the Editor; a Tale of Pentland, by +the Ettrick Shepherd; and the Austral Chief, by the Rev. Mr. Ellis,—may +be read and re-read with increasing interest, which is not a general +characteristic of "Annual" sketches. Our extract is one of the most +buoyant pieces in the volume—</p> + +<h3> +A CASTLE IN THE AIR.</h3> +<h4> +<i>By Miss Mitford</i>.<a id="footnotetag5" name="footnotetag5"></a><a href="#footnote5"><sup>5</sup></a></h4> + +<p> +"Can any one tell me of a house to be let hereabouts?" asked I, this +afternoon, coming into the room, with an open letter in my hand, and an +unusual animation of feeling and of manner. "Our friends, the Camdens, +want to live amongst us again, and have commissioned me to make +inquiries for a residence." +</p><p> +This announcement, as I expected, gave general delight; for Mr. Camden +is the most excellent and most agreeable person under the sun, except +his +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page332" name="page332"></a>[pg 332]</span> + wife, who is even more amiable than her amiable husband: to regain +such neighbours was felt to be an universal benefit, more especially to +us who were so happy as to call them friends. My own interest in the +house question was participated by all around me, and the usual +enumeration of vacant mansions, and the several objections to each (for +where ever was a vacant mansion without its objection?) began with zeal +and rapidity. +</p><p> +"Cranley Hall," said one. +</p><p> +"Too large!" +</p><p> +"Hinton Park?" +</p><p> +"Too much land." +</p><p> +"The White House at Hannonby—the Belvidere, as the late people called +it?" +</p><p> +"What! is that flourishing establishment done up? But Hannonby is too +far off—ten miles at least." +</p><p> +"Queen's Bridge Cottage?" +</p><p> +"Ay, that sweet place would have suited exactly, but it's let. The +Browns took it only yesterday." +</p><p> +"Sydenham Court?" +</p><p> +"That might have done too, but it's not in the market. The Smiths intend +to stay." +</p><p> +"Lanton Abbey?" +</p><p> +"Too low; grievously damp." +</p><p> +By this time, however, we had arrived at the end of our list; nobody +could remember another place to be let, or likely to be let, and +confessing ourselves too fastidious, we went again over our catalogue +<i>raisonée</i> with expectations much sobered, and objections much +modified, and were beginning to find out that Cranley Hall was not so +very large, nor Lanton Abbey so exceedingly damp, when one of our party +exclaimed suddenly, "We never thought of Hatherden Hill! surely that is +small enough and dry enough!" and it being immediately recollected that +Hatherden was only a mile off, we lost sight of all faults in this great +recommendation, and wrote immediately to the lawyer who had the charge +of letting the place, whilst I myself and my most efficient assistant, +sallied forth to survey it on the instant. +</p><p> +It was a bright cool afternoon about the middle of August, and we +proceeded in high spirits towards our destination, talking, as, we went, +of the excellence and agreeableness of our delightful friends, and +anticipating the high intellectual pleasure, the gratification to the +taste and the affections, which our renewed intercourse with persons so +accomplished and so amiable, could not fail to afford; both agreeing +that Hatherden was the very place we wanted, the very situation, the +very distance, the very size. In agreeing with me, however, my companion +could not help reminding me rather maliciously how very much, in our +late worthy neighbours, the Norrises' time, I had been used to hate and +shun this paragon of places; how frequently I had declared Hatherden +too distant for a walk, and too near for a drive; how constantly I had +complained of fatigue in mounting the hill, and of cold in crossing +the common; and how, finally, my half yearly visits of civility had +dwindled first into annual, then into biennial calls, and would +doubtless have extended themselves into triennial marks of remembrance, +if our neighbours had but remained long enough. "To be sure," added he, +recollecting, probably, how he, with his stricter sense of politeness, +used to stave off a call for a month together, taking shame to himself +every evening for his neglect, retaining 'at once the conscience and the +sin!' "To be sure, Norris was a sad bore! We shall find the hill easier +to climb when the Camdens live on the top of it." An observation to +which I assented most heartily. +</p><p> +On we went gaily; just pausing to admire Master Keep, the shoemaker's +farming, who having a bit of garden ground to spare, sowed it with wheat +instead of planting it with potatoes, and is now, aided by his lame +apprentice, very literally carrying his crop. I fancy they mean to +thrash their corn in the woodhouse, at least there they are depositing +the sheaves. The produce may amount to four bushels. My companion, a +better judge, says to three; and it has cost the new farmer two superb +scarecrows, and gunpowder enough for a review, to keep off the sparrows. +Well, it has been amusement and variety, however! and gives him an +interest in the agricultural corner of the county newspaper. Master Keep +is well to do in the world, and can afford himself such a diversion. +For my part, I like these little experiments, even if they be not over +gainful. They show enterprise: a shoemaker of less genius would never +have got beyond a crop of turnips. +</p><p> +On we went—down the lane, over the bridge, up the hill—for there +really is a hill, and one of some steepness for Berkshire, and across +the common, once so dreary, but now bright and glittering, under the +double influence of an August sun, and our own good spirits, until we +were stopped by the gate of the lawn, which was of course locked, and +obliged to wait until a boy should summon the +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page333" name="page333"></a>[pg 333]</span> + old woman who had charge +of the house, and who was now at work in a neighbouring harvest-field, +to give us entrance. +</p> +<hr/> +<p> +——— the aged portress (Dame Wheeler, Susan's grandmother) had given +us admittance, and we soon stood on the steps in front of the house, in +calm survey of the scene before us. Hatherden was just the place to like +or not to like, according to the feeling of the hour; a respectable, +comfortable country house, with a lawn before, a paddock on one side, a +shrubbery on the other; offices and a kitchen garden behind, and the +usual ornaments of villas and advertisements, a greenhouse and a +veranda. Now my thoughts were <i>couleur de rose</i>, and Hatherden was +charming. Even the beds intended for flowers on the lawn, but which, +under a summer's neglect, were now dismal receptacles of seeds and +weeds, did not shock my gardening eye so much as my companion evidently +expected. "We must get my factotum, Clarke, here to-morrow," so ran my +thoughts, "to clear away that rubbish, and try a little bold +transplanting; late hollyhocks, late dahlias, a few pots of lobellias +and chrysanthemums, a few patches of coreopsis and china-asters, and +plenty of scarlet geraniums, will soon make this desolation flourishing. +A good gardener can move any thing now-a-days, whether in bloom or not," +thought I, with much complacency, "and Clarke's a man to transplant +Windsor forest without withering a leaf. We'll have him to-morrow." +</p><p> +The same good disposition continued after I entered the house. And when +left alone in the echoing empty breakfast-room, with only one shutter +opened, whilst Dame Wheeler was guiding the companion of my survey to +the stableyard, I amused myself with making in my own mind, comparisons +between what had been, and what would be. There she used to sit, poor +Mrs. Norris, in this large airy room, in the midst of its solid handsome +furniture, in a great chair at a great table, busily at work for one of +her seven small children; the table piled with frocks, trousers, +petticoats, shirts, pinafores, hats, bonnets, all sorts of children's +gear, masculine and feminine, together with spelling books, copy books, +ivory alphabets, dissected maps, dolls, toys, and gingerbread, for the +same small people. There she sat a careful mother, fretting over their +naughtiness and their ailments; always in fear of the sun, or the wind, +or the rain, of their running to heat themselves, or their standing +still to catch cold: not a book in the house fit for a person turned of +eight years old! not a grown up idea! not a thought beyond the nursery! +One wondered what she could have talked of before she had children. Good +Mrs. Norris, such was she. Good Mr. Norris was, for all purposes of +neighbourhood, worse still. He was gapy and fidgetty, and prosy and +dosy, kept a tool chest and a medicine chest, weighed out manna and +magnesia, constructed fishing-flies, and nets for fruit-trees, turned +nutmeg-graters, lined his wife's work-box, and dressed his little +daughter's doll; and had a tone of conversation perfectly in keeping +with his tastes and pursuits, abundantly tedious, thin, and small. One +talked down to him, worthy gentleman, as one would to his son Harry. +These were the neighbours that had been. What wonder that the hill was +steep, and the way long, and the common dreary? Then came pleasant +thoughts of the neighbours that were to be. The lovely and accomplished +wife, so sweet and womanly; the elegant and highly-informed husband, so +spirited and manly! Art and literature, and wisdom and wit, adorning +with a wreathy and garlandy splendour all that is noblest in mind and +purest in heart! What wonder that Hatherden became more and more +interesting in its anticipated charms, and that I went gaily about the +place, taking note of all that could contribute to the comfort of its +future inhabitants. +</p><p> +Home I came, a glad and busy creature, revolving in my mind the wants of +the house and their speediest remedies—new paper for the drawing-room; +new wainscoting for the dining parlour; a stove for the laundry; a lock +for the wine-cellar; baizing the door of the library; and new painting +the hall;—to say nothing of the grand design of Clarke and the +flower-beds. +</p><p> +So full was I of busy thoughts, and so desirous to put my plans in train +without the loss of a moment, that although the tossing of apples had +now resolved itself into a most irregular game of cricket—George Copley +being batting at one wicket, with little Sam Roper for his mate at the +other;—Sam, an urchin of seven years old, but the son of an old player, +full of cricket blood, born, as it were, with a bat in his hand, getting +double the notches of his tall partner—an indignity which that +well-natured stripling bore with surprising good humour; and although +the opposite side consisted of Susan Wheeler bowling at one end, her old +competitor of the ragged +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page334" name="page334"></a>[pg 334]</span> + jacket at the other, and one urchin in trousers, +and one in petticoats, standing out; in spite of the temptation of +watching this comical parody on that manly exercise, rendered doubly +amusing by the scientific manner in which little Sam stood at his +wicket, the perfect gravity of the fieldsman in petticoats, and the +serious air with which these two worthies called Susan to order whenever +she transgressed any rule of the game:—Sam will certainly be a great +player some day or other, and so (if he be not a girl, for really +there's no telling) will the young gentleman standing out. In +spite, however, of the great temptation of overlooking a favourite +divertisement, with variations so truly original, home we went, hardly +pausing to observe the housing of Master Keep's wheat harvest. Home +we went, adding at every step a fresh story to our Castle in the Air, +anticipating happy mornings and joyous evenings at dear Hatherden;—in +love with the place and all about it, and quite convinced that the hill +was nothing, the distance nothing, and the walk by far the prettiest +in the neighbourhood. +</p><p> +Home we came, and there we found two letters: one from Mr. Camden, sent +per coach, to say that he found they must go abroad immediately, and +that they could not therefore think of coming into Berkshire for a year +or more; one from the lawyer, left in charge of Hatherden, to say, that +we could not have the place, as the Norrises were returning to their old +house forthwith. And my Castle is knocked down, blown up—which is the +right word for the demolishing such airy edifices? And Hatherden is as +far-off, and the hill as steep, and the common as dreary as ever. +</p><p> +We have already quoted the most striking of the poetical pieces, at page +283. Allan Cunningham has some spirited lines, My Native Vale; and the +Ettrick Shepherd, a touching Lay of the Martyrs. Archdeacon Wrangham, +one of the most elegant and classical scholars of the day, has +translated twenty-three beautiful verses on the Spider, from Pignotti, +besides a few other little garnishing pieces. The Brothers, a Sketch, +by the Hon. Mrs. Norton, is full of sweet simplicity; and some Stanzas, +which follow, by Mr. Crofton Croker, are gems of affection. Thoughts on +Flowers, by H.G. Bell, breathe the same sweet and touching spirit; and +the Banks of the Dove, written by M.T. Sadler, Esq. on leaving his +"native village in early youth," are not only interesting as gems of +talent which has since ripened into literary distinction in honourable +public service, but will delight every admirer of genuine feeling. +</p><p> +The Engravings are nearly all of first-rate excellence. The +frontispiece, the Minstrel of Chamouni, after Pickersgill, by J.H. +Robinson, in effect, spirit, and finish, cannot be surpassed. But how +shall we describe the Crucifixion, engraved by Le Keux, from a drawing +by Martin: how can we speak of the light shedding over the Holy City +and "Calvary's wild hill," the crucified MESSIAH, the living stream, +and the thousands and tens of thousands that cluster on this "earthly +throne"—the magnificent architectural masses—the vivid light streaming +in the distance; and the warlike turmoil of helmet heads, spears and +floating banners that aid the shout of blood in the foreground: this +must suffice. The First Interview between the Spaniards and Peruvians, +after Briggs, by Greatbach, is a triumph of art; Wilkie's Dorty Bairn +is excellent; the Fisherman's Children, after Collins, by C. Rolls, is +exquisitely delicate; and the Gleaner, by Finden, after Holmes, has +a lovely set of features, which art and fashion may court in vain. +But we have outrun our tether, and must halt here. +</p> +<hr/> + +<h3> +The Literary Souvenir.</h3> + +<p> +From the <i>Amulet</i> we turn to Mr. Watts's <i>El Dorado</i> of poetry +and romance in superb crimson silken sheen and burnished gold edges. +Rich as the exterior unquestionably is, it but accords with the rare +treasures which it envelopes. We first indulged our early custom of +"looking at the pictures," but must, as sober middle-aged persons ought +to do—begin at the beginning. Passing over the Advertisement, in which +the editor makes some judicious observations on the remuneration of +British artists, &c. the first tale is the Love-Draught, in the best +style of the author of "Highways and Bye-ways," with many fine touches +of Irish humour and sentiment. We next notice a Village Romance, by Miss +Mitford, with a host of pretty facts and feelings; and a Calabrian Tale, +the Forest of Sant Eufemia, by the author of "Constantinople in 1829:" +it is the longest, and perhaps the best story in the volume, +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page335" name="page335"></a>[pg 335]</span> + and brings +the author's descriptive powers into full play in the stirring scenes +of brigand life. Next is The Last of the Storm, a tale of deep and +thrilling interest, by Mr. Banim. Of the same description is our prose +extract—</p> + +<h3> +THE CONFESSION.</h3> +<h4> +<i>By John Galt, Esq.</i></h4> + +<p> +My furlough had nearly expired; and, as I, was to leave the village the +next morning to join my regiment, then on the point of being shipped off +at Portsmouth, for India, several of my old companions spent the evening +with me, in the Marquess of Granby. They were joyous, hearty lads; but +mirth bred thirst, and drinking begot contention. +</p><p> +I was myself the soberest of the squad, and did what I could to appease +their quarrels. The liquor, however, had more power than my persuasion, +and at last it so exasperated some foolish difference about a song, +between Dick Winlaw and Jem Bradley, that they fell to fighting, and so +the party broke up. +</p><p> +Bradley was a handsome, bold, fine fellow, and I had more than once +urged him to enlist in our corps. Soon after quitting the house, he +joined me in my way home, and I spoke to him again about enlisting, +but his blood was still hot—he would abide no reason—he could only +swear of the revenge he would inflict upon Winlaw. This led to some +remonstrance on my part, for Bradley was to blame in the dispute; till, +from less to more, we both grew fierce, and he struck me such a blow +in the face, that my bayonet leaped into his heart. +</p><p> +My passion was in the same moment quenched. I saw him dead at my feet—I +heard footsteps approaching—I fled towards my father's house—the door +was left unbolted for me—I crept softly, but in a flutter, to bed—but +I could not sleep. I was stunned;—a fearful consternation was upon +me;—a hurry was in my brain—my mind was fire. I could not believe +that I had killed Bradley. I thought it was the nightmare which had so +poisoned my sleep. My tongue became as parched as charcoal: had I been +choking with ashes, my throat could not have been filled with more +horrible thirst. I breathed as if I were suffocating with the dry dust +into which the dead are changed. +</p><p> +After a time, that fit of burning agony went off;—tears came into my +eyes;—my nature was softened. I thought of Bradley when we were boys, +and of the summer days we had spent together. I never owed him a +grudge—his blow was occasioned by the liquor—a freer heart than his, +mercy never opened; and I wept like a maiden. +</p><p> +The day at last began to dawn. I had thrown myself on the bed without +undressing, and I started up involuntarily, and moved hastily—I should +rather say instinctively—towards the door. My father heard the stir, +and inquired wherefore I was departing so early. I begged him not +to be disturbed; my voice was troubled, and he spoke to me kindly and +encouragingly, exhorting me to eschew riotous companions. I could make +no reply—indeed I heard no more—there was a blank between his blessing +and the time when I found myself crossing the common, near the place +of execution. +</p><p> +But through all that horror and frenzy, I felt not that I had committed +a crime—the deed was the doing of a flash. I was conscious I could +never in cold blood have harmed a hair of Bradley's head. I considered +myself unfortunate, but not guilty; and this fond persuasion so pacified +my alarms, that, by the time I reached Portsmouth, I almost thought +as lightly of what I had done, as of the fate of the gallant French +dragoon, whom I sabred at Salamanca. But ever and anon, during the +course of our long voyage to India, sadder afterthoughts often came upon +me. In those trances, I saw, as it were, our pleasant village green, +all sparkling again with schoolboys at their pastimes; then I fancied +them gathering into groups, and telling the story of the murder; again, +moving away in silence towards the churchyard, to look at the grave of +poor Bradley. Still, however, I was loth to believe myself a criminal; +and so, from day to day, the time passed on, without any outward change +revealing what was; passing within, to the observance or suspicions +of my comrades. When the regiment was sent against the Burmese, the +bravery of the war, and the hardships of our adventures, so won me +from reflection, that I began almost to forget the accident of that +fatal night. +</p><p> +One day, however, while I was waiting in an outer room of the colonel's +quarters, I chanced to take up a London newspaper, and the first thing +in it which caught my eye, was an account of the trial and execution of +Dick Winlaw, for the murder of Bradley. The dreadful story scorched my +eyes;—I read it as if every word had been fire—it +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page336" name="page336"></a>[pg 336]</span> + was a wild and +wonderful account of all. The farewell party at the Granby was +described by the witnesses. I was spoken of by them with kindness and +commendation; the quarrel between Bradley and Winlaw was described, as +in a picture; and my attempt to restrain them was pointed out by the +judge, in his charge to the jury, as a beautiful example of loving old +companionship. Winlaw had been found near the body, and the presumptions +of guilt were so strong and manifold, that the jury, without retiring, +found him guilty. He was executed on the common, and his body hung in +chains. Then it was that I first felt I was indeed a murderer—then +it was that the molten sulphur of remorse was poured into my bosom, +rushing, spreading, burning, and devouring; but it changed not the +bronze with which hardship had masked my cheek, nor the steel to +which danger had tempered my nerves. +</p><p> +I obeyed the Colonel's orders as unmoved as if nothing had happened. +I did my duty with habitual precision,—my hand was steady, my limbs +were firm; but my tongue was incapable of uttering a word. My comrades +as they came towards me, suddenly halted, and turned aside,—strangers +looked at me, as if I bore the impress of some fearful thing. +I was removed, as it were, out of myself—I was in another state +of being—I was in hell. +</p><p> +Next morning we had a skirmish, in which I received this wound in the +knee; and soon afterwards, with other invalids, I was ordered home. We +were landed at Portsmouth, and I proceeded to my native village. But in +this I had no will nor choice; a chain was around me, which I could not +resist, drawing me on. Often did I pause and turn, wishing to change my +route; but Fate held me fast, and I was enchanted by the spell of many +an old and dear recollection, to revisit those things which had lost all +their innocence and holiness to me. +</p><p> +The day had been sultry, the sun set with a drowsy eye, and the evening +air was moist, warm, and oppressive. It weighed heavily alike on mind +and body. I was crippled by my wound,—the journey was longer than my +strength could sustain much further,—still I resolved to persevere, for +I longed to be again in my father's house; and I fancied were I once +there, that the burning in my bosom would abate. +</p><p> +During my absence in India, the new road across the common had been +opened. By the time I reached it, the night was closed in,—a dull, +starless, breezeless, dumb, sluggish, and unwholesome night; and those +things which still retained in their shapes some blackness, deeper +than the darkness, seemed, as I slowly passed by, to be endowed with +mysterious intelligence, with which my spirit would have held communion +but for dread. +</p><p> +While I was frozen with the influence of this dreadful phantasy, I saw +a pale, glimmering, ineffectual light rising before me. It was neither +lamp, fire, nor candle; and though like, it was not yet flame. I took +it at first for the lustre of a reflection from some unseen light, +and I walked towards it, in the hope of finding a cottage or an +alehouse, where I might obtain some refreshment and a little rest. +I advanced,—its form enlarged, but its beam became no brighter; +and the horror, which had for a moment left me when it was first +discovered, returned with overwhelming power. I rushed forward, but soon +halted,—for I saw that it hung in the air, and as I approached, that it +began to take a ghastly and spectral form! I discerned the lineaments +of a head, and the hideous outlines of a shapeless anatomy. I stood +rivetted to the spot; for I thought that I saw behind it, a dark and +vast thing, in whose hand it was held forth. In that moment, a voice +said,—"It is Winlaw the murderer; his bones often, in the moist summer +nights, shine out in this way; it is thought to be an acknowledgment +of his guilt, for he died protesting his innocence."—The person who +addressed me was your Honor's gamekeeper, and the story I have told, +is the cause of my having desired him to bring me here. +</p><p> +(<i>To be concluded in the next Supplement</i>.) +</p> +<hr/> +<p> +We have also received for notice Two Religious Annuals—the <i>Iris</i> +and <i>Emmanuel</i>; both which shall appear in our Second Supplement to +be published within two or three weeks. +</p><p> +Two Juvenile Annuals—<i>the Keepsake</i> and <i>Forget-me-not</i>, have +likewise the same claim on our attention. These works, with two or three +others not yet published, will form another sheet of interesting +extract. +</p><p> +We thank the Correspondent who has forwarded to us a notice of <i>The +Sylph</i>, a Musical Annual, which justice to ourselves and the public +forbids us to insert, as we have not yet seen the work in question and +are consequently unable to judge of the writer's criticism. Humble and +unheeded as our opinions of New Works may be, we are always ready to +prove that no undue influence is used in the adjudication of their +merits. This has uniformly been our maxim, and our success is the best +criterion of its policy. +</p> +<hr class="full" /> + +<blockquote class="footnote"> +<a id="footnote1" name="footnote1"></a> +<b>Footnote 1</b>: +<a href="#footnotetag1">(return)</a> +<p>See Gibbon's "Decline and Fall," chap. 39, for the general + conduct of Theodoric in Italy.</p> +</blockquote> + +<blockquote class="footnote"> +<a id="footnote2" name="footnote2"></a> +<b>Footnote 2</b>: +<a href="#footnotetag2">(return)</a> +<p>Tiraboschi, book i.</p> +</blockquote> + +<blockquote class="footnote"> +<a id="footnote3" name="footnote3"></a> +<b>Footnote 3</b>: +<a href="#footnotetag3">(return)</a> +<p>We have abridged this tale to suit our limits, though we trust + not at the expense of the interest of the author. The style is + rich and tender, and well suited to this class of works, + although we cannot help thinking some of the details + unnecessarily protracted. In the volume it occupies 22 pages.</p> +</blockquote> + +<blockquote class="footnote"> +<a id="footnote4" name="footnote4"></a> +<b>Footnote 4</b>: +<a href="#footnotetag4">(return)</a> +<p>Vide Catal Manuscript. Sanct Ang. No. 817. 4to. Rom. 1532.</p> +</blockquote> + +<blockquote class="footnote"> +<a id="footnote5" name="footnote5"></a> +<b>Footnote 5</b>: +<a href="#footnotetag5">(return)</a> +<p>This ingenious lady is the most indefatigable of all + lady-writers of the present day. Her "Sketches" will soon reach + the famed "One Thousand and One." At this moment too, our + favourite authoress is engaged on two tragedies for the patent + theatres—one <i>Inez de Castro</i>, which has been poetized in + half-a-dozen forms of late, and is even in the <i>Amulet</i> + before us: the subject and title of the second tragedy is + <i>Otho</i>: both will probably be of a melo-dramatic cast, which + founded the success of <i>Rienzi</i>. If it should be so, the fault + will not rest with the fair authoress, the managers, or admirers + of the pure drama; we need not add where the blame lies.</p> +</blockquote> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 11235 ***</div> +</body> +</html> + diff --git a/11235-h/images/399-1.png b/11235-h/images/399-1.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..1d54fd4 --- /dev/null +++ b/11235-h/images/399-1.png |
