knew with what heaviness of heart I write you! There are very few persons-no, I believe there is only one upon earth to whom I write with more emotion than to you." Santa-Rosa was right; we were scarcely able to see each other a few moments, on his way at Paris. It was permitted him to go to my house accompanied by a gendarme; and it was before this gendarme that we bade each other the adieus which were to be eternal. Doubtless neither he nor I had any distinct presentiment of this. On his part, he was sustained by the thought of accomplishing a duty; on my part, I was afraid of yielding to a kind of selfishness by retaining him in France, in the midst of the watchings and the tricks of the police; and yet a secret instinct filled up for me, with an inexpressible bitterness, this fatal hour, in which it seemed to me that I should lose him for ever. We exchanged scarcely any words, and I conducted him back in silence to the diligence, which bore him far from Soon he had left the France for which he was fitted, and was lost, as it were, in the immense desert of London, without fortune, without resource, without any real friend: he who knew how to live only to love or act. After the first moments of unquiet activity for the purpose of making for himself a supportable situation, the unfortunate soon fell into a profound melancholy, from which he escaped only soon to fall into it again; so that finally the ennui of this life, either solitary or dissipated, led him to the magnanimous and mournful resolution which placed him for a moment, with a certain éclat, upon the stage of the world, before he disappeared for ever. me. During the sojourn of Santa-Rosa in England, our correspondence did not cease to be intimate, serious, and tender, as it had always been; but it is necessarily very monotonous, singularly filled with affectionate sentiments, abortive projects, deceptive hopes; sad picture, which I cannot bear to describe, so I will only cite a few fragments of the letters of Santa-Rosa, in order to give an idea of his interior situation. "LONDON, November 26, 1822. It is however necessary that I should tell you the reasons of my silence, or rather that I should prove to you I have not ceased to think much of you er way of proving it would be to nts of three le gh an impu They wo tera I began, an not of impatien have been really afflicting to you. I spoke in them to you with a tone so melancholy of my dejection and my interior sadness, that it would have been cruelty to send them to you, persuaded as I am, as I always shall be, of the depth of your sentiment for me. Do not be too much alarmed; or rather I should say to you, who know and feel that all life is in interior existence, be believed myself undone. Good God! is not that seriously alarmed. I have had days in which I to feel one's self dying? At bottom, I have nothing with which to reproach England but the kind of life which I lead. To make calls; to of the city to the other; the necessity of learning receive them; insignificant coursings from one end English, and a decided repugnance to giving my self the trouble to learn it; a disquieting future, if I do not make practical use of my faculties; expenses much above my means, etc. My work the time, when I am able to think. I have already on the Congress of Verona occupies me almost all written many pages in my head on the walks of London. I hope this small work will be useful I shall write it in French; I shall get it translated I shall publish it here; then I shall send you into English without its costing me any thing, and copy of my manuscript, authorizing you to retrench and modify every thing that might frighten s Parisian bookseller. Despite of the moderation which will always guide my pen, it is impossible I shall put my name to this production, it will be to forget, while writing, that I am in England. As able, if it succeeds, to give me the commencement of a reputation which will quadruple the price of my works. I am going to commence the work s soon as the Congress of Verona shall have pa lished a declaration. This is necessarily the pot of departure. I am now going to speak to ye of the acquaintances which I have acquired London. "I put in the first rank Sir James Mackintos Whig member of Parliament, the brother-in-law Sismondi, and of Jeffrey, the principal editor d the Edinburgh Review. Information which ba appeared to me immense, and a very enlightened political philosophy, characterize Mackintosh, if I am able to judge. Moreover, his reputation in speaks French correctly rather than easily: be England is very advantageously established. He knows much of Paris. You know perhaps that be defended your revolution against Burke, and b voice is constantly raised in Parliament in favor d the cause of national independence and soc ameliorations. I have also made the acquaintan of Austin and his family. He is a young ad cate, obscure as yet, but a real thinker, and a de ciple of 'Bentham, with whom he and his wife an particularly acquainted. She is a person of cellent character, wonderfully learned for a we man, but none the less amiable. She is very ing to give me some lessons in English, by which I am little profited, in spite of the attraction which lessons from a lady of twenty-seven or eight, sad of a very agreeable figure, might offer. This young and amiable woman of whom Santa-Ro aks, has become one of the best writers of E work best known is that which she has dev an interesting acquaintance which I shall culti- | declaration in the name of the Italian corps, but vate with care. As to Bentham, the eccentricity without signature, in which with signal bad faith of his character and the difficulty of approaching|I I am accused of not having wished to take part in him are things known here. Bowring is his favorite; but of Bowring I have as yet seen very little. I hope soon to see Wilberforce and Brougham. I have received some invitations from several radicals; but it is not proper to show myself in very intimate connection with the extreme radical party." "December 10th, 1822. "I have received news from my wife. She and our children are exceedingly well; but my eldest, Theodore, disquiets me: he has need of instruction, of superintendence; he has need of his father, in a word, and yet it is impossible for me to call him after me. My feeble resources are being rapidly exhausted." "December 25th. How much cause I have to fear England! but I do not esteem it any the less for that." "February 12th, 1823. I do not at all think of Portugal or Spain, where Collegno has gone. My political principles by no means call me thither. this expedition through motives unworthy of me. I do not think it my duty to reply to an anony mous production. I own it is very sad. I shall never be wanting in that kind of courage which an upright man must have against calumny. That which afflicts me is, the evil which it does to a party that I do not prefer to my country and do not confound with my country, but to which I am nevertheless attached." No, I wish to accept nothing from any patron, and I have closed the list for ever. One can have only his intimate friend for a have been enrolled the last, in regard to the date; You but so far as affection is concerned you can have no second place: my heart very clearly tells me that. There is a very small number of persons that I love as well as you, although not in the same manner; I am sure that I love no one better than you. All that I owe to you costs me nothing, absolutely nothing. I believe if you had a million I might ask you for half of it without hesitation. I have finally left the dissipated life of London, and am established with Count Porro in a small "You speak to ine in terms of gentleness, and house, called here a cottage, at the extremity of I thank you for it; I love them much. It is just the city, as at Paris lodgings would be at Monta year since we were together at Arcueil. What rouge or at Chaillot. This is absolutely like the a sweet life I lived there! Only if I had not seen country: from my window I have a view of Reyou suffer. But perhaps what you cost me of gent Canal and the cottages built on the opposite grief in this respect only increased my feeling for bank. One would believe it to be a hundred you. This feeling will end only with my exist-leagues from a great city, and yet in twenty minence, and I hope with Socrates that it will next end in a long time." "April 14th, 1823. "I must scold you for not having yet sent me the first volume of Plato. I have read it at the house of Bossange. I came near opening my purse, although so thin, and paying the bookseller ten or twelve shillings in order to carry the book in my pocket and devour it at my ease. ed to me a species of affront not to have in my It seempossession this dear volume, the greater part of which I saw produced and matured. I have a real right to it. "I hope soon to go to the country. It is absolutely impossible for me to work in London. Calls to make and receive; several dinners during the week; half the day in the endless streets of London; many evenings at the table to see bottles opened which I do not touch; in short, I do nothing but read a little, make a few notes. I do not in reality work. But I swear to you I shall not continue this sort of life, and that I shall soon busy myself in some corner of Wales. "I have received and read with infinite pleasure the translation of Manzoni, by Fanriel; it is exquisite. The work of Manzoni on the unities has seemed to me perfect, and as it were has converted me. Adelchi pleases me less than Carmagnola, the merit of which increases in my eyes every time I read it; but the choruses of Adelchi are ravishingly beautiful. There has just been printed at Barcelona a utes one can be in Oxford street or in Hyde Park, in the midst of the most elegant promenaders. Our cottage belongs to Foscolo; I love it much, but of it a souvenir-I may say a tender souvenir; Arcueil will always be my favorite. I have kept sadness is mingled with it when I recollect how I saw you suffer. It is possible I may spend the coming autumn and even the winter in my cottage; I must have retirement and labor. If I can With the resources of my wife, and what I can procure a livelihood I shall send for my family. get here by working, our means of living will be sufficient. If my hopes deceive me in regard to tablish ourselves in Wurtemberg, since Switzerways of getting money, then we shall have to esland is closed to us." grieves me much that I must write articles for the I work constantly, but not with pleasure. It serious works. This is a great objection, I think; journals; they will hinder me from executing more but in the first place, the need of getting some money is imperious with me, and articles for the In the second place, it appears to me that when I journals are the only means of getting it at hand. shall get some exercise in it, this writing will take | Much have I desired happiness, and I have posonly half of my time, and I shall be able to give the other half to my old projects. "I have written you that I do not much please the English, and in general this is true enough; but there are nevertheless some persons upon whose friendship I think I can rely. I know, among others, a family of Quakers, (the Fry family,) which is engaged in commerce, and rich, one of the members of which, the mother of the family, Catherine Fry, is known in England by the care which she bestows on the prisoners of Newgate. I have passed some days with them in the country, and this family has made on me a pro found impression. sessed a great faculty for feeling it. I mourn the untowardness of my better destiny. Nevertheless I have a future: I have children, and their mother I love and esteem. My children will render me happy or unhappy. Besides, if I yield to my misfortunes, I do not fear the void, the horrible ob livion in which I will not and cannot believe, and which I repel now and for ever by my will, by my instinct, in default of positive demonstration. If I write I will put my conscience in my books, and I shall also have my country before my eyes. The remembrance of my mother will also be a divinity, which will command more than one sacrifice. This sentiment is one of the excitements of my interior existence. Good or bad, so it is. This all-powerful reason will not permit me to sympathize entirely with the new ways and the new era. "I have read the Parga of Berchet three times. The third part is a master-piece. In the other parts there are passages spun out to considerable length, yet they are wanting in interesting and necessary details. Berchet has just published two "Let me hope seriously to see you during the Italian romances; the first is written with much year 1824. Your passport will not be obstinatefervor and grace, but the second has a more seriously denied. Henceforth either I am deceived, or character; it is a morsel of poetry perfectly beauti- the French government will become still more ful. strengthened, which cannot but happen, unless great follies are committed. If you are watched, it must be seen that your whole life is devoted to philosophy. A passport then will not be refused to you, and I shall embrace you on the shores of England in spite of the eyes of gaping Englishmen. "Have you read Las-Casas ? In truth, it would be necessary to lose one's memory in order to put any confidence in what Napoleon tells us of his beautiful liberal projects. He saw that the tendency of our age after 1814 was towards liberty; and if he played his new part badly in 1815 that does not hinder him, in the manifesto which he addresses to posterity through Las-Casas, from making poetry for us upon what he pleased, and upon what he was about to undertake for liberty. But that which recommends Napoleon with me is his successors; they work night and day at the reputation of the man whom they overturned." "September 18th. 66 "I am very well, and continue to work. Dear friend, I must think of the desire which I have of pleasing you, by doing my duty, in order to surmount my dislike. I have received from Turin a letter which has done me good; I expect one with impatience from the Villa Santa-Rosa. I shall send in the coming spring for those poor creatures associated in my unfortunate destiny. You shall see them on their passage at Paris." "30th September. It wearies me to write articles for the jour nals. I could wish to contribute a little to the honor of this poor and unhappy country, to which I have sacrificed all the sweets of existence. The glorious example of Manzoni must inflame every Italian who has any heart or any talent. Berchet behaves well and appears to be quite happy. He has promised me to write a good number of ro mances similar to his last; if he keeps his word he will have created a new style." "18th October. "Yes, my friend, there must be in my interior life, in my affections, a certain superstition; what has just happened confirms me in this belief This 18th day of October, this day upon which I complete my fortieth year, and upon which I am shut up, invisible in my little heritage, meditating upon my misfortunes, upon my future, surrounding myself with my dearest recollections, with my sweetest friendships; this day, even at this moment, your letter of the 12th and your Plato are brought to me. Of the Roman race and of the Roman blood, I accept the augury, as was done in the times of Camilla and Ďentatus. I seize my pen immediately to answer you in this first delicious moment of life. Oh what a myste "I continue to labor in the same manner, earning my living at the expense of all my designs. At present I am writing an essay on Italian lit erature. Work has increased in my hands. How can I pass over certain men and certain epochs? In reviewing the adventurous lives of Giordano Bruno, of Campanella, and some others of this stamp, I have been forcibly reminded of you.rious and divine thing is the human heart! how This Florentine Platonism whence sprang a generous and valiant youth, that would have saved the country if such could have been, but they at least saved honor. We Italians of the nineteenth century have not even had this advantage. There are, my friend, thoughts that pursue a man all his life: you understand me, and you ought to pity me. How many times do I reproach myself, and at what price would I not purchase back those thirty days of a political career marked by so many errors. Forty years of my life have fled. much I deplore the doctrines of materialism! I was thinking of it when your Plato arrived. We both believe in what is good, in order. Philosophy is not knowing a great deal, but placing oneself high. In this respect alone I think myself a philosopher, notwithstanding my ignorance in so many things. Adieu: I leave you. To-day I be long entirely to myself, and it is only because I love you as I do, that I have written to you A dieu once more." [CONCLUDED IN NEXT NUMBER.] |