played him a much worse trick. He had cautioned her to use the safe word 'No' to every request which might be made to her in his absence, and here is the result:-] "When I was about half way home on my return, I dined in a pretty large town, at a table d'hote. The company happened to be in a jovial mood, and many a pleasant anecdote excited their mirth. One of the company at last gave the following story. There lately took place in (he named the town where I lived) a strange and funny event. An adventurer, who wanders up and down the world, and gives himself out for a baron, lately arrived there, and took a ride one morning to view the neighbouring country. On passing a genteel enough house, he saw, at the window, a beautiful woman. He wished to have a little chat with so charming a creature. Accordingly he stopped his horse, and asked, Can you tell me, fair lady, how far I am still from -.' The question was answered by No. "You surely can tell me the name of the village I see,' (pointing to it.) Again the answer was No. In short, she answered a score of his questions and more with the same little word. The stranger was struck, and thought to himself, The lady must either be dumb, all to that dd single word, or some mystery must be lurking in this. He gave his questions now a different shape, and said, 'You are not, Ma'am, displeased, that I am free enough to speak to you?' No, said she. Perhaps you will not take it ill that I dismount a little here?' No. Then, without further ceremony, he alighted, and walked, booted and spurred as he was, into the house. "Here the cunning blade, by further questioning, made her understand his wishes. It is scarcely necessary to add, that the lady continued to give the same answer to every question, and that No, in her mouth, was at last equivalent to Yes, in the mouth of any other woman.' It is equally unnecessary to say, that, while all the rest of the company were laughing, I sat upon thorns. The country-house, the beauty and simplicity of its inhabitant, her parrot-like repetition of the same word-in short, every thing answered and fully convinced me, that this story could refer to no one but to my wife. The last words of it pierced my heart like a dagger. Fortunately no one at table remarked my confusion, for all eyes were fixed on the recorder of my shame, who now continued in the following manner. Hitherto, gentlemen, this adventure, as a love affair, might be half and half excused; but now it begins to be very dishonourable for the soi-disant baron. The villain was not satisfied with seducing the wife of an honest man; he at last persuaded the stupid goose of a woman to run away with him.' "Now I was perfectly thunderstruck, and ran out of the room, as if all hell had been at my heels. Posthorses,' cried I to the people of the house, with a terrible voice, and locked myself up in my room till they were got ready. At every post-house I paid the post-boys double their dues, who gallopped full speed till I arrived at Rosa's abode. The door was shut and locked. With the post-boy's assistance I got it thrown open. Trembling all over, I tottered in, and found the house musty and void. Even the old dragon was gone. All the apartments were emptied-every coffer and press broken up: I now was a beggar. "O wretch that I am,' exclaimed I, it is decreed by fate, as I now clearly perceive, that all the women I approach, whether clever or dull, are to make me their sport and their dupe. What now is left, but to fly to some desert, and never again to see one of their odious faces ?" "I am inclined," continued Jannes," to read straight forward now to the end of my manuscript, if you have no objection."-" I would like much to hear it," said Jambres; "as for the Editor there, he is enjoying a very comfortable nap."] Jannes, (reading.) "While I thus gave vent to my grief and my rage, I observed, in a corner of the room, a letter addressed to myself. In a moment I opened it. It was from an old rich relation of mine, who resided in Russia, and whom I had forgotten for years. In the letter, I was invited to come to him as soon as I could, as he would wish to see me once more before his death, which, from his age and infirmities, could not be distant.' He added, that I should not travel so far for nothing; that he meant to make me the heir of all he possessed.' In my cruel situation, it may well be supposed that I read this letter with the highest delight. I set out without delay, and begged my way, like a pilgrim, to the place where my cousin resided, which lay 150 miles beyond Petersburgh. I soon was a rich man again, for my old relation died, in my arms, not many weeks after my arrival, and I found myself in possession of an ampler fortune than I had ever had. "I resolved to live and die in the Russian town where I was, and remain a hermit as much as possible, at least to the women. I got myself dressed in the Russian fashion, and let my beard grow untouched by a razor. It soon surpassed all the beards of the country, and at length flowed over my girdle. "I took a poor boy into my service, and had him instructed in all those household concerns which commonly fall to the women. He swept my rooms, cooked my victuals, and washed my linen. Every thing, in which it was indispensably necessary that women should have a hand, was transacted by my trusty Jacob, and was moreover to be done out of doors. No such dangerous creature was to pass the threshold of my house. When I saw a woman I closed my eyes, and I shut my ears against the voice of the Syrens. 66 By these measures, invariably strict, I lived in peace and satisfaction for thirty years. I was now a grey haired man of sixty, and I firmly believed that, without meeting any more of the storms of life, I should get into the port of repose. "But no. At last I was suddenly awaked, one night, out of sleep by thundering raps. Ijumped outof bed, and ran to the window, where I saw my dwelling surrounded by soldiers, who, in the Empress's naine, commanded me to open my door. Jacob opened and let them in. They made me their prisoner, dragged me away, put me in chains, and shoved me into a vehicle, which stopped not either by night or by day, till it reached St Petersburgh. Here I was thrown into a dungeon, where being left in solitude for eight days, I had time to review the events of my life. I found myself clear of even the smallest act against the laws of the land, and, therefore, it was quite incomprehensible to me, by what I had merited fetters and chains. I was carried out of my prison, at last, to be tried. My judge said in a menacing tone, Confess your crimes! I begged as a favour to know what was laid to my charge. Aha!' he replied, with a devilish grin, we must help then to set you a going, you villain? You'll wait long for that! We shall give you three days more for reflection: when these are expired, if you do not confess, we shall give you the knout.' "I was now carried back to my prison, and the third day after was again brought into court. Will you not yet make confession?' said the same tyrannical judge. What shall I confess?' I answered, with tears in my eyes, 'Heaven knows I am innocent of all possible crimes. Yes, yes,' said the man on the bench, that is the usual song of such pretty birds as you. Stay, we shall soon teach you to sing in a different strain. Away with the fellow, and give him the knout, till he confess to a hair his criminal deeds. Two fellows tried the strength of their arms upon me for some minutes. I suffered the pain in silence. The hard-hearted man, by whose order I was so cruelly used, stood by all the while; but I did not deign to beg him to spare me. At last he ordered the flagellants to stop, and to lead me back to my prison. Here I passed six terrible. months in dreadful uncertainty as to my fate. I at times asked the jailor who brought me my water and bread, what at last they would do with me?" He always gave me for answer, He could not inform me, for in the courts there was now no question of me.' At last he one day appeared at an unusual hour, with unusual speed threw open the door of my prison, and said to me quite out of breath, Come along, you are now to appear before Prince Potemkin' That awful name made ine tremble: I walked, more dead than alive, surrounded by soldiers, to the palace of the prince. They conducted me into a gala-saloon, in which a brilliant assembly was met. A multitude of gentlemen, with stars and ribbons, crowded around me. At their head was a lady of dazzling beauty. She smiled in my face, stroaked my beard with her hand white as snow, and said with the voice of an angel, O what a fine, what a venerable beard!' On this the prince (whom I easily knew by the homage universally done him) made me a slight and gracious motion with his hand, and said, 'Now you may go you are free!' was so much admired is not of the number; she is a weak and a coldhearted creature.' And how is that to be proved?' asked I, a little offended; as for me, old fop that I am, I was almost in love with her.' "The proof is the easiest thing in the world,' said the Count. The following history of your arrest and imprisonment will prove it at once :--About seven months ago, a young man of rank dined with Potemkin. He was just returned from a tour through the Russian provinces, and was entertaining the company with what he had seen on his travels. Among other things of equal importance, he mentioned a man he had seen with a beard which was frightfully long; he talked of it as of one of the wonders of the world, and the lady you so much admire pertly cried out, O how I should like to behold that beard of all beards!' This wish raised a complaisant laugh among the great folks at table; on which Potemkin, the lady's admirer, expressed a desire to hear more about Longbeard. The prince, in compliance, drew out of his pocket his tablets, read aloud the name of your town, and, with all due gravity, added, 'It is there he lives. It is true I don't know his name; one cannot, however, mistake; his beard would point the man out among millions of men.' "Full of amazement I left the saloon; the guard that had conducted me to the gate had vanished. The sacred feeling of recovered liberty poured new force into my frame. With the vigour of a youth I hastened down stairs, and suddenly heard myself called by my name. With terror I looked back and saw behind me a Russian officer, whom I had already remarked in the prince's saloon, 'Do you not recollect me?' said he, and gave my hand a most friendly squeeze. I stared a moment in his face, and then I assured him, I did not recollect I had ever seen him before. And yet we have seen one another very close,' he replied, much closer than I could have wished.' I thought and thought; he remained a stranger to me. Hem!' said he, smiling, ‘have you really forgotten Count Ossek? Ossek!' cried I, and fell on his neck! Is it possible? How are you here?' A short time after our duel,' said he, I entered into the Russian service, and many a bloody fight I have had with the Turks.' And I with the women,' said I. O! since the story you know, how barbarously "The haughty favourite now sent I have been used by the sex! They for a secretary, whom he enjoined to at last brought it so far, that I was draw up an order forthwith, and send forced to avoid them as serpents, as it in haste to the commandant of the vipers! But yet to-day I am a little town. The order ran thus: 'On readreconciled with the odious sex. At ing these presents, you will straightlast I have seen for once a good-na- way take up and send off to Peterstured and compassionate woman! The burgh the man with the longest beard young, the beautiful lady, who stroak- in your place.' After that time, neied my beard with such kindness, ap- ther the Taurian prince nor the lady peared to me an angel of Heaven. I thought more of the matter. It was am sure I owe my deliverance to her.' not till to-day that it again occurred 'My poor friend there you are sadly to the latter at table. mistaken,' said the Count, with a smile of compassion; it is to that very angel you owe the knout, and all you have now undergone.' That jest is too cruel,' said I; ‘O let me go to the grave with the pleasing belief, that one good woman is still to be found upon earth.' My dear but singular friend,' Count Ossek replied, 'there are thousands, and thousands, and thousands again of excellent wo men, of women whom one might adore; but she by whom your beard 'How is that then?' said she to the prince; Did not your highness once mean to show me a man with a beard amazingly long?' That moment the prince sent for the secretary to whom he had given the commission, and roared, as he came, with a terrible voice, 'Have you not had my orders to have the man with the beard brought to town?' Yes, your highness,' answered the other, and he has been for six months in prison, but refuses still to confess the crime he committed. It was not thought proper to trouble your highness with questions about it. The precognition and all the proceedings are lying in chancery. Let the writings be brought,' said the prince; and let the fellow himself appear, as soon as dinner is over.' "The register of process went 'all round the table: when it came to me, I observed with consternation, that you, my dear Limbach, were the unfortunate prisoner; all the rest is known to yourself. What think you now of the lady? Can a person who exposes a worthy man to imprisonment for sport,-who then coolly gazes at him, as at a wild beast for show,-who does not say a word to apologize for the sufferings she has caused, can we call such a silly creature good-natured? Has she a compassionate heart? Can we call her an angel of Heaven? No, she is a monster, she is destitute of all the finer feelings of the soul.' "I stood silent, and sunk in a deep reverie on my wonderful fate, which was spun by the hands of the women. The Count roused me, as from a dream, and said, Don't dwell any longer upon it,—the thing is now over. Come to my house, my old honest friend. Refresh yourself there as long as you please, after all your hardships in prison, and, when you are in spirits, do me the favour to write me your life.' "I accepted my friend's invitation, passed several comfortable weeks in his house, and, to please the generous Ossek, have become my own biographer. I am now about to set out on my return to and heartily rejoice at the thought of seeing my good Jacob again. "The worthy man never saw him more. When he arrived at the door of his house, a neighbour, with his face turned away, and with tears in his eyes, gave him the key, and quietly disappeared, without stopping to speak. Limbach went in and found the house as deserted and bare, as thirty years before he had found that of Rosa. Jacob, Jacob,' he cried in all the apartments. No Jacob appeared. In the mean time, some of the neighbours had, from curiosity, come in. He asked them if they knew what was become of his servant. "O he is gone! My Jacob No, gone! Dead do you mean? not dead, he ran off! Good people, do not say so of my Jacob, he never could treat me so ill.' It is perfectly true; he ran off and took with him all he could carry away.' 'O Jacob, Jacob, on whose faith and honesty I could have built a second Petersburgh. How is it possible? it cannot be! how is it possible? Yes, indeed, as we tell you; an infamous woman seduced him.' 'A woman!!" said Limbach; and fell to the ground, as if struck by a thunderbolt, and never rose more.' Whenever Jannes had stopt reading, we awoke with "What were you say. ing about the old professor of astronomy?" Jannes. O! he is gone to bed an hour since. Editor. Well, then, we had better all follow his example. day Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund Stands tip-toe on the misty mountain-tops. The crowds below are now dispersed, and you can get to your own garrets without molestation. Ah! it was just on such a morning as this that we saw, as we were taking our early rounds, poor Porteous dangling at the dyester's door! The streets were as quiet, and the dawn of day as serene. We remember it as well as yesterday, though it is nearly a century ago. Aye, aye-fugit hora sine mora,—sie transit gloria mundi. Go home now, you dogs; but come and give us some more German stories another evening. ITALIAN LITERATURE. No. II.-The Alcestis of Alfieri. THE Alcestis of Alfieri is said to have been the last tragedy he composed, and is distinguished to a remarkable degree by that tenderness, of which his former works present so few examples. It would appear as if the pure and exalted affection by which the impetuosity of his fiery spirit was ameliorated during the latter years of his life had impressed its whole character on this work, as a record of that domestic happiness in whose bosom his heart at length found a restingplace. Most of his carlier writings bear witness to that "fever at the core," that burning impatience of restraint, and those incessant and untameable aspirations after a wider sphere of action, by which his youth was consumed; but the poetry of Alcestis must find its echo in every heart which has known the power of domestic ties, or felt the bitterness of their dissolution. The interest of the piece, however, though entirely domestic, is not for a moment allowed to languish, nor does the conjugal affection, which forms the main-spring of the action, ever degenerate into the pastoral insipidity of Metastasio. The character of Alcestis herself, with all its lofty fortitude, heroic affection, and subdued anguish, powerfully recalls to our imagination the calm and tempered majesty distinguishing the masterpieces of Greek sculpture, in which the expression of mental or bodily suffering is never allowed to transgress the limits of beauty and sublimity. The union of dignity and affliction impressing more than earthly grandeur on the countenance of Niobe, would be, perhaps, the best illustration of this analogy. The following scene, in which Alcestis announces to Pheres, the father of Admetus, the terms upon which the oracle of Delphos has declared that his son may be restored, has seldom been surpassed by the author, even in his most celebrated productions. It is, however, to be feared that little of its beauty can be transfused into translation, as the severity of a style so completely devoid of imagery must render it dependent for many incommunicable attractions upon the melody of the original language. To keep that fearful secret from thine ear, Phe. Through my curdling veins race, The cherish'd hope and glory of my age; And, unimpair'd by time, within my breast, High, holy, and unalterable love, In what suspense, what agony of fear, Alc. Death hath his rights, Of which not e'en the great Supernal Powers 3 T |