long and far through the unreal world, I arrived at lengh at the garden of Jolimont, where I saw my baby smiling in her mother's arms. I stooped forward to kiss her; she playfully retreated. A second and a third trial were made. Being seated on the box beside the driver, I nearly, in my dreaming eagerness, precipitated myself forward upon the horses, and awoke with an instinctive effort to recover my position. The domes and towers of Milan just at that moment rose before me, bathed in the ruddy light of the dawn; and the rich verdure of the plains on all sides was glittering with dew. On the right, far in the distance, were the towering Alps, rosy with the sun's first rays, and piercing the blue sky with a thousand luminous pinnacles. Not even Austrian despotism can deprive the Lombards of the enjoyment of such moments, though the pleasure must be dashed by the consciousness that, whatever may be their physical enjoyments, they still are slaves.

'Is it possible?" was my involuntary exclamation. "If you are surprised at that," said she, “you will be still more surprised when I add that my feelings are all Italian."

This little dialogue took place in front of a shop, out of which an officer soon came, flourishing a new whip, which he had just been purchasing. He looked at me with something like a scowl, and, saying a few words to her in German, from the tone of which I could not doubt she was his wife, walked off with her, though not before she had turned round and bowed to me twice.

It forms no part of my design to describe cities, or I had, meanwhile, forgotten the police-office and the churches, or palaces, or pictures. The guide-books do passport, which now, however, as the temptress was that. I went, of course, to the cathedral, and glanced gone, speedily made their way back into my memory. over all its curiosities. But I find nothing about them When I reached the important premises, I was informed in my memory, and therefore shall say nothing. I that, by some extraordinary accident, my passport was remember perfectly well that, on entering Lombardy, lost, or else had not been duly forwarded. In the my passport was taken from me, and forwarded to meantime, however, I might remain at Milan, for visitMilan, where I was told it would be delivered to me on ing which I, of course, had particular motives. I addemand. There is, of course, no living in any Austrian mitted that I had motives, and that they were very city without a passport; so, the very first morning after particular, but declined explaining them till my passmy arrival, I had no sooner breakfasted than I sallied || port should be found. It was quite immaterial. I was forth in search of the police-office, that I might obtain living under a paternal government, and would, doubtofficial permission to breathe the Emperor's air. There less, like to converse with one of my countrymen, who, are those among my countrymen who like well enough as great good luck would have it, was then in the the present state of things, and fancy that Italy never office. Though an Englishman does not travel to see was so happy as under the rule of the Teutonic barba- Englishmen, I had no objection; and the wily agent rians. For myself, I sighed for the turbulent repub- of Prince Metternich was forthwith brought face to lics of the middle ages, and would rather have seen a face with me. A man is never so bold or so politic capital in every village, and a frontier in every parish as when he has nothing to fear or conceal; and the boundary, and men armed to the teeth defending them, pains the worthy agent took to see farther into the than have witnessed the dead calm which, when I milestone than he who made it, amused me im passed through it, was brooding over Lombardy. It mensely. He was resolved to find out all about me, was like the sleep of death. and I was resolved he should not; and so we went on for an hour, at least, thrusting, and parrying, and beating about the bush. Nothing more contempt ible can be conceived than a government which experiences alarm at the passage of a humble foreigner through its dominions, who has no political mission, and who, however crafty or Jesuitical he might be, could really, in ninety cases out of a hundred, effect nothing. However defective our own institutions may be, they really deliver both us and our ministers from suspicions so humiliating. A man in Great Britain may come and go, and laugh and talk, and declaim to his heart's content against anything and everything, without exciting the slightest alarm. Freedom is our safety-valve, and we use it unsparingly; but under Austrian rule, the clucking of a turkeycock would alarm the authorities. Metternich would have trembled in his palace, and the Emperor would have felt insecure, if I had been suffered to pass through Lombardy without its having been ascertained who I was, how many wives and children I had left behind me, what was my object in travelling, what means of subsistence I possessed, and whether or not I meant, on my return, to parade my formidable beard and mustaches through the Lombardo-Venetian kingdom.

As I was proceeding towards the police-office, I met, under the piazza opposite the cathedral, a lady, whose face immediately made me forget my errand. She was so fair and beautiful, I took her to be a daughter of the North, and could not resist the temptation to speak to her. So, stepping forward, and taking off my hat in the politest manner imaginable, I inquired, in English, the way to the police-otice.

"Non capisco" was her reply.

I then apologised for addressing her in a foreign language, but said "I have mistaken you for an Englishwoman, you are so extremely beautiful."

"And are the English women so extremely beautiful?" inquired she.

"You may judge," said I, "since they are like you." "I suppose they flatter a great deal in England," observed she, with a smile, "and you have probably learned the art there."

"Nay, it is in your country that one learns to flatter; if, indeed, it be flattering to speak the truth.' "This is not my country," replied she. "I would it were!"

"Then you are a Frenchwoman ? " She shook her head.

Having cherished, all my life, a contempt for grandees || of infinite richness, sweetness, and power, it would rewho happen to have nothing but their position to re- quire a stoicism much more perfect than mine to remain commend them, I should have felt the greatest pos- indifferent. The Austrian lady whom I had met in the sible pleasure, could I by any means have accomplished morning, observing how completely I was absorbed by it, in making Metternich and his Emperor sleepless for Carlotta's singing, roused me from my reverie by ina month. Unluckily, I was too unimportant for that, quiring how long I had been in Italy. though they had, certainly, the benefit of my best wishes.

CHAPTER XII.

CARLOTTA.

"One day," I replied, as soon as I could collect my thoughts.

"Before you have been many days," said she, "you will be lost past recall. The women on this side of the Alps are syrens."

66

And on the other too," I answered.

"Well," she inquired, are you not very much obliged to me for providing you with companions so agreeable as you appear to think Carlotta and her

Through some letters of recommendation I had brought with me, I was invited to a musical soireé, where the company was chiefly made up of Germans and French, with a slight sprinkling of English people and Italians. One of the first persons I noticed on entering was my female friend of the piazza, who in-mother?" troduced to me an Italian lady and her daughter, who, I professed myself to be infinitely indebted to she said, were about to set out in a few days, by her. We then entered into a long conversation on Veterino, for Genoa. Few faces could exceed in in- operas, music, the great singers we had both heard, terest or beauty that of the young Italian lady. Strange and so on. She did not affect enthusiasm, but felt it, to say, she was very fair, and possessed a pearly clear- as I could easily perceive by the language she emness of complexion not always found in fair women.ployed. I experienced no enthusiasm, and did not affect Her eyes were of that amethystine blue, which is of it; but confessed, rather than boasted, that certain all colours the most beautiful. They seemed like little singers and kinds of music had very great charms fragments of the sky, and had all its infinite depth and for me. serenity. It was impossible to look at them without a certain fluttering of the heart. I preserved silence a little longer, perhaps, than was becoming; but at length observed that, as they were travelling towards Genoa, it would afford me very great pleasure to be permitted to accompany them. The mother replied, that nothing would be easier, as they did not intend taking all the carriage, but merely places for themselves. Having learned their address, and that of the owner of the carriage, it was agreed that I should call on them, and make my arrangements, in the morning. I have a very foolish habit of being contented with one person at a time; and, finding Carlotta (the only name by which, in these pages, I wish to designate her) extremely agreeable, I forgot altogether the rest of the company; and, had I been permitted, should have spent the whole evening in conversing with her. Our dialogue, however, was soon interrupted by Carlotta's being requested to sing. I hate singing in general, especially when a knot of women commence wailing, like so many lost spirits, around a pianoforte; but when a woman has a sweet voice, and knows how to use it, I could listen to her for ever. The pleasure of such moments is like few in this world, and comes back again and again upon the memory in after-years, renewing the delight of the moment, and investing it with all those delicate touches of melancholy which cling to whatever we have enjoyed. Carlotta, as she placed herself at the piano, threw back her massive dark brown ringlets, and raising slightly her large eyes, paused for a moment, as if to collect and summon up her powers. She then sang. To describe my sensations while her voice was pouring like nectar around me, would be impossible. The notes seemed to descend like drops of melody into an ocean of sound, which rolled and reverberated with infinite undulations over the soul. Had she not been beautiful, and possessed a seraph's voice, it would have signified little, as far as I was concerned. But when all that is lovely in countenance or expression, and all that is graceful in the female form, are added to a voice

At the table d'hote of the hotel where I lodged, I met two officers of the Indian army, with whom, for various reasons, I fraternized at once. They gave me letters of introduction to friends at Genoa and Leghorn, and promised, if they ever met me at Alexandria, as they fully expected, to ascend the Nile in my company, at least as far as Thebes, where they would turn off towards the Desert and Cosseir. In company with these gentlemen, I strolled about the city, after having early secured my place in the carriage, and saw such curiosities as Milan has to show-at least with one exception, "The Last Supper," by Leonardo da Vinci. I put off visiting this from hour to hour, and day to day; why, I know not, since, of all inanimate things, it was what I most wished to sec in Milan. Perhaps Carlotta's fascinations had something to do with it.

CHAPTER XIII.

DEPARTURE FROM MILAN,

At length we left Milan, early in the morning, the rich green plains being lighted up by a golden autumnal sun. There were six persons in the carriage, an Italian gentleman, with his wife and daughter, Madame B, Carlotta, and myself. We were accompanied by another carriage, larger than our own, filled inside and out with Swiss, who were proceeding to take service in the Neapolitan army. With these riffraffs of the Alps was a German, who figures in "Margaret Ravenscroft" under the name of Semler. We afterwards saw much of each other, but at starting had no further acquaintance than what one picks up at a table d'hote, for we had diued together ever since my arrival at Milan.

Madame B- was a woman of about thirty-six, handsome, but hard-featured, who, having neglected, apparently, to make the most of her beauty when young, was now determined to make up for it as fast as possible. She flirted indifferently with everybody; but got out of temper, and looked as fierce as a basilisk the moment one spoke to her daughter, whose person she seemed to look upon as nothing but a cage for her voice. At first she placed herself in the middle,

between me and Carlotta, with whom, therefore, I had situated; and I was sometimes permitted to visit him. to speak, when I spoke to her at all, across her mamma, There, one day, on a window-seat, I found a volume which was very awkward. But as the day grew hotter, || of Machiavelli's works, in which I immediately became Madame B's regard for her own comfort overcame interested. My uncle gave me the whole set, but cauall other considerations, and she asked me as a favour tioned me against carrying it to the college, since he t change places with her, as she wished to sit near assured me my preceptors would certainly take it away. the window for the sake of the air. I would have 'I'll tell you,' said he, what you shall do-you consented to sit in an oven, to oblige her; and, indeed, must have it bound like the mass-book, and take it for some hours during the middle of the day, I might with you occasionally to church. It will then be misas well have baked myself with Monsieur Chabot, as taken for a help to devotion; and while they are have sat where I did, scorched internally by the fire engaged in their unintelligible rhapsodies, or useless of Carlotta's eyes, and externally melted by the sun. ceremonies, you can improve your mind.'

The Italian patriarch, who sat opposite, was far more comfortable, because he had no flesh to lose, being little better than a walking anatomy. The sun and atmosphere had done their worst upon him. Brown as a mummy, with large, heavy, dark eyes, high cheekbones, and a mouth of enormous capacity, he had very much the air of a scarecrow.

"Of course, I carefully followed this advice, and read the works of the greatest of Italian writers over and over, till I became familiar with them all. One day, however, as one of the holy fathers was preaching on the Chinese mission, I happened to open my favourite volume at the commencement of the marriage of Belfegor, the caustic wit and dry humour of which pleased me so much that I forgot where I was, and smiled again

His wife had been handsome in her time; and the daugh. ter was so still, though she had reached, in single bless-and again with delight. edness, the alarming age of two-and-twenty, after which "An honest Jesuit, who observed my merriment,thought a woman regards her chances of felicity gone in Italy. it could hardly be excited by a book of devotion, and, apAs papa formed my vis-a-vis, I could not, ugly as he was,proaching me stealthily, like a cat, looked over my shoulavoid entering occasionally into conversation with him.der, and discovered the horrid truth. Then, stretching He illustrated strikingly the common adage, that one should never trust to appearances-since he could talk like an angel, and had a mind so stored with knowledge, and was of a temper so finely balanced, that, before we had travelled far, I could hardly tell whether he or Carlotta was the more fascinating person of the two.

What I had first mistaken for heaviness in his eyes, was an expression of extreme serenity. If he had ever known the storms of the passions, Time, with his vast wings, had now lifted him far above them, and placed him on that intellectual eminence where, as Lucretius expresses it, "a man may look down upon humanity, toiling, wandering, and fretting below." Strange to say, he had been in the army, where he had preserved, unabated, through many a campaign, his faith in Providence and his love of knowledge. Though he had married early in life, he had had but one child, whom he seemed to regard with extreme tenderness and affection. His wife was what the French call une femme nulle; that is, a woman of no character at all.

forth his long, bony hand, he seized upon the volume, as an eagle pounces upon a hare, and, thrusting it into his bosom, cast on me a menacing look, and returned to his place in the choir. Up to that moment I had been intended for the ecclesiastical profession; but, while my heart was boiling with indignation, I made up my mind, and, walking out of the church, went straight to my uncle's; and never entered the Jesuits' college again.

Love, I acknowledge, had something to do with my resolution. My uncle had a very charming daughter," said he, smiling, and turning towards his wife, who returned the smile; and propos ing for her hand, my offer was accepted, though the marriage was postponed for some time. Meanwhile, I entered the army, where I have risen to the rank of General. In due time I married; and you perceive," added he, turning to his wife, and then to his daughter, "the whole of my family."

You are more obliged to Machiavelli,” I observed, "than most persons. Through his aid you have escaped celibacy, and risen to honour and distinction." Signor Castrucci bowed.

I never could pretend to understand the art of flirtation, and, on the present occasion, most satisfactorily "And now," I inquired, "looking back from this demonstrated my ignorance. Instead of taking ad-distance of time, do you think that the notions you vantage of my position to ingratiate myself with Car- entertained of the Florentine statesman in your youth lotta, as any man of the world would have done, I were correct?" entered into a discussion with Signor Castrucci on Machiavelli," he replied, "was essentially a revothe character and writings of Machiavelli. At first,lutionary writer; he despised all the established considering in what country we were travelling, governments of his time, and laboured earnestly to he sedulously avoided politics; but, as conversation subvert them by propagating those principles of exbegot mutual confidence, we spoke out boldly ou pediency which render men indifferent respecting the the affairs of Italy, both past and present. On my means they employ to accomplish their ends; he referring to Machiavelli, he smiled, and said, "I will || esteemed liberty the greatest good that men can tell you an anecdote, from which you may perceive enjoy, and thought them justified in wading to it how early in life I became attached to that great through seas of blood. The princes and rulers of his author. I received my education under the Jesuits, time set no value on human life, which they sacrificed who, as you know, watch over their pupils with the in all ways to gratify their most despicable caprices. utmost strictness, allowing them to read no books but He therefore counselled the people to follow their exsuch as they themselves put into their hands. I had ample, and laboured all his life to undermine the senan uncle in the town, close to which our college was timent of respect for greatness which is one of the

most fatal weaknesses incident to human nature. To dissipate this feeling, he dwells on the crimes and follies of kings and princes, and seeks to overwhelm them beneath a load of contempt. No mau can rise from the perusal of Machiavelli with the same sentiment of loyalty with which he commenced it. His attack is conducted in the most insidious manner, for he often praises what he wishes you to hate; but is careful that his praise should be calculated to provoke your detestation."

green damps and immense patches disfigure the interior, and irresistibly lead us to associate humidity and darkness with everything beyond the grave. In Italy, the reverse is the case. Marble floors, richly-painted windows, magnificent altars, pictures, statues, columns, gilding, and whatever is bright and beautiful-the whole penetrated and almost rendered transparent by light-surround you on all sides, and produce a peculiar effect on your fancy. You do not need to mount in search of the skies--a little compartment of "Strange," interposed Carlotta, "that of so great a heaven seems to have descended for your use, and a man's life so little, comparatively, should be known." holy atmosphere murmurs and breathes around you. "Signora," replied Castrucci, "the lives of the Familiarity does not always breed contempt. Magreatest men the world has ever produced have been dame B put more confidence in me as our acquaintobscure, like his. We see the effects their genius pro-ance proceeded-allowed her daughter to take my arm, duced, but are unable to measure the productive force; just as, in our own country, we behold a mountain thrown up into the air by volcanic agency, but never perceive the power at work."

"I have read the history of Florence," observed Carlotta, "and what remains of the letters; but should like to know much more of the man who wrote them." We now entered into a literary conversation, in which Carlotta's mother, a woman of considerable knowledge, joined occasionally. To my great surprise, I found that the daughter had read extensively, was acquainted with Dante, Petrarch, Ariosto, Tasso, and Metastasio the last more especially-and could dissertate upon poetry and music like a professor. With all this, her manner was the most modest, gentle, and unassuming that could be conceived. She had, literally, no vanity, or concealed it with so exquisite an art that she might as well have been without it.

CHAPTER XIV.

THE CHURCH OF CERTOSA.

while she took the other, and conversed with me freely as we walked through the church. They forgot I was a heretic, and consequently gave full vent to those rapturous feelings which devout Catholics experience from time to time. Religion, in some persons, is an instinct-finest in the finest organizations. The soul, in such cases, seems to be an instrument so exquisite, and of so vast a compass, that it cannot yield forth all its music when played upon by anything but heaven. Carlotta's soul was one of these. Her exquisite sensibility, her fervid imagination, her impassioned heart, rendered her susceptible to the most delicate influences; so that religion easily became a want of her nature.

She invited me to kneel with her while she said her prayers. At that instant, from a gallery far above, we heard a burst of music, and numerous voices of women, chaunting the "Agnus Dei." And, oh the effect of music at such a moment! Angelic voices appeared to be hymning their Creator in the courts above. The sounds descended upon us Late in the afternoon, we turned off from the high-like showers of delight; and the Lamb of God, and road, to visit the conventual church of Certosa, the the Virgin, floated softly through the incensed atinterior of which we found to be one blaze of rich or- ||mosphere. Carlotta placed one of her hands on naments. Few things in a woman are so beautiful mine-the other was pressed against her bosom. as the feeling of devotion. Carlotta, I found, was We did not speak. It was a moment of more than overflowing with it. As we approached the church, earthly pleasure; and when the hymn had been through an avenue of noble trees, her manner, always chaunted, we rose from our knees, walked forth from modest and subdued, became much more strikingly so. the church, and returned to the carriage in perHer voice sank to a lower key; her animal spirits fect silence. But, through that silence what celeswere hushed; and her large blue eyes appeared to grow tial melodies appeared to roll! The soul was full moist with delight. How pleasant it is," said she of music, and therefore the ear needed none. Such to me, in a low, sweet voice, "to enter the house of was my brief visit to the church of Certosa. God! See, from the walls yonder, how the Holy Virgin smiles upon us! Ah! what rich tints tremble and glitter on the pavement! Must not heaven be something like this?"

We now pressed on, with unusual speed, towards Pavia, where we arrived in time for a late din

ner.

Here we lost sight, suddenly, of Signor Castrucci and his family. We took no leave of each And whatever we, here in the North, may say, other. He disappeared in the inn yard, hurried there is certainly something in the architecture, off, perhaps, by some friends, who would not allow ornaments, and brilliant light of southern churches him time for the ordinary politenesses of travelling; that kindles irresistibly the spirit of joy. The gloomy or he may have lived at Pavia, and forgotten us in his aisles, aspiring arches, fretted roofs, long casements, eagerness to visit home. Carlotta and her mother and profusion of shadow, in a Gothic edifice, may pro-retired to dine in a private room; and I was left duce a more powerful effect on our imagination, but with a rabble of Swiss, whose company would have it is not enlivening. On the contrary, it is akin to sor- been altogether insufferable but for the presence of row; and, as our climate itself is depressing, we ex-my friend Semler, whose kindness and generosity perience, in their fullest force, all those melancholy influences which tend to impart a sombre aspect to religion. We surround our sacred buildings with groves of yew-trees, and, in the country, permit grey and yellow lichens to spread themselves over the walls

VOL. XVI.-NO. CLXXXIX.

of character I have endeavoured to do justice to elsewhere. A good dinner is apt to soften the worst of tempers; it did so in the case of my Swiss companions, whose minds, however, like certain ancient Chinese vases, only showed more clearly the mon

2 X

setting sun, but a thousand times more bright by those glowing classical associatious which clothe every inanimate object in Italy, and i'mpart to it the accumulated beauty of two thousand years. The breath of the old Roman Republic seeined to breathe softly around us, rebuking Teutonic despotism, and whispering that a day of deliverance is at hand.

Next morning we were stirring with the dawn, and had already made some way when the sun rose. There is nothing so fleeting as those phenomena of nature which we denominate sunrise and sunset; and yet they sometimes paint themselves so vividly on our memories that the picture never wholly fades away, save with the crumbling of the canvas. The beauty of that morning I still remember distinetly. The sun rose out of an ocean of ruddy and saffron vapour, and shed over all the woods and copses, now moist and glittering with dew, a splendour and a gorgeousness of colouring which no art can imitate. The mystery of creation seems to be renewed every morning in the South, for, as the world emerges from darkness, it appears to put on the robes of a virgin, and to stand smiling in eternal innocence in the presence of its Creator. The deep blue of the overhanging sky completes the mighty || picture; and our imagination ascends its luminous arch to the very footstool of the throne of God.