"Nuremburg, September 13, 1846. I think Mrs. Trollope has been treated too severely for saying that she always felt more at ease on moving into a slave state. It no more follows from that, that she loved slavery, than that I am a Papist, or even a Puseyite, because moving from a Catholic to a Protestant town gives me a cold chill. I have been over this most picturesque and anti-papal town, and am come in with all my sympathies frozen up. Why does Protestantism lock up its churches? Passing through Donauwerth we looked in at the old monastery. The sacristan showed us over the church and the relics; the bit of the true cross, which, when stolen, was discovered by a light on the outside of the box; the miraculous image which, though fastened to the wall by two wooden pegs, resisted the efforts of six strong horses to move it. To be sure, if the horses were, as to blood and bone, such as a picture below the image represents them, the miracle seems moderate. But the old man believed all this; his heart was in it. He received our little Trinkgeld with a bow, put it into his pocket without counting the kreutzers, and called us back to look at a monument which was apart from what we had seen. Here we engage a valet de place to get the churches, &c. opened for us. They reminded me of a description in some melo-dramatic medical book, of a lady who died of disease of the heart just as she had completed her toilet, and was found before the glass, a corpse, dressed for a ball. The ruffian hand of the reformer had not been there. No German Knox in his zeal had cut the pictures or broken the images. The Madonna, in wood and embroidery, stood in the glass case above the altar. I never felt disposed to smile at this absurdity before. It is hallowed by the feelings which it excites and I do not envy those who can laugh when they see simple-minded women praying before the representation of her, who they think can best appreciate a woman's wants and sorrows. Here it has been kept, not from religion, not from love of art, but for a show, and is no more respected than a ragman's black doll. Well! we were allowed to walk about the churches as we pleased, but on making towards any door, the utmost vigilance was shown to put some one in our way lest we should get out without giving our voluntary contribution, which at the first church was received without motion of face or body. The fingers closed, it was counted and bagged. At the next church I tried the effect of a larger fee, and doubled the former, but finding it received in the same way, I did not repeat the extravagance. Through every church and every gallery it was the same, except at the royal chapel, which is Catholic. There we were neither watched nor hunted, and the woman who showed it was polite. I have observed the same over and over again, but never so strongly as to-day. The old gables are well worth looking at, and the young women- Oh! is it not time "the ports were opened" for religion and reverential feelings, as well as for corn? The mind ought to be fed as well as the body. If you take the duty off tea, why not off tombs? Education (now so seriously, so energetically put in motion) calls for liberal aid from the educated, and it will be a sin and a shame if the rulers of our two great ecclesiastical edifices do not open wide their doors to all comers! Here we leave the cathedrals. When, when shall any one be able in Westminster Abbey (or in St. Paul's, in the same spirit, allowing for the difference in the style of architecture) to breathe out from the pensive heart and mind, lines similar to the following, which had their birth in an English country cathedral, where the contemplative lounger found an open door? Never, till ALL may be unprohibited loungers. A poet would be disturbed, unless he submitted to be a reversed penny-a-liner, and paid for the privilege to compose and write! But what—as a last resource-if a copper subscription from the people were proposed to redeem our two vast and beautiful churches from their present unholy mortgage? It would fill !* *The attention of the benevolent is intreated towards the third quotation at the head of this earnestly-intended essay; the writer of which will head the subscription with a numismatical liberality. THE CATHEDRAL. I STEP from out the living air, from under Cut from the world, my being seems to freeze! White, cold, death-speaking slabs, crowd the gray walls, (Their suppliant palms upraised) of Queens and Kings- THE GRAVE ON THE LIDO. BY ANNA SAVAGE. The "Near the ancient Jewish cemetery on the Lido, but far removed from any other tomb, and lying close to the barren shores of the Adriatic, whose spray in stormy seasons must be often cast over it (fit tears for such a sepulchre!) stands a small, neglected grave. Its situation is inexpressibly saddening. spot seems selected by Despair; and yet Hope rises above it, for a contrite, though a broken heart, rests there. Surrounded by hillocks of drifted sea-sand, the little mound covering the poor nameless dead is edged with a broken row of stunted acacias, incrusted with sea-shells, and overgrown with nettles and other weeds-the haunt in summer of the lizard and the grasshopper. Above it stands a small stone cross, breathing of deep penitence and humility in the following pathetic inscription: PREGATE PER UN INFELICE CHE IMPLORA PACE E MISERICORDIA.-1843. Never did I cross the Lido to plunge into the Adriatic without visiting this solitary grave, and never linger beside it without profound emotion."-MS. Journal. Venice, September, 1846. Rest thee, poor weary one! thy spirit yearning Above the world's wild flood, where all was dark, From his wild harp, when Hope's sweet pinions languish, What flow'ring reed long rested on hath fail'd thee? What death-wing'd shaft, through Love's sweet shield, assail'd thee, Is there none left to tend the wildling blossom Peace to thee, weary one! if loved, how lonely! We must now read Adele's letter. "My dear Valerie, Of "The die is cast, and I have now a most difficult game to play. I have risked all upon it, and the happiness of my future life is at stake. But let me narrate what has passed since I made you my confidante. course you must know the day on which I was missing. On that day I walked out with him, and we were in a few minutes joined by a friend of his, who he introduced as Major Argat. After proceeding about one hundred yards farther we arrived at a chapel, the doors of which were open, and the verger looking out, evidently expecting somebody. 'My dear angel,' said the colonel, 'I have the licence in my pocket, I have requested the clergyman to attend, he is now in the chapel, and all is ready. My friend will be a witness, and there are others in attendance. You have said that you love me, trust yourself to me. Prove now that you are sincere, and consent at once that our hands as well as our hearts be united.' "Oh! how I trembled. I could not speak. The words died away upon my lips. I looked at him imploringly. He led me gently, for my resistance was more in manner than in effect, and I found myself within the chapel, the verger bowing as he preceded us, and the clergyman waiting at the altar. To retreat appeared impossible; indeed I hardly felt as if I wished it, but my feelings were so excited that I burst into tears. What the clergyman may have thought of my conduct, and my being dressed so little like a bride, I know not, but the colonel handed the licence to his friend, who took it to the clergyman while I was recovering myself. At last we went up to the altar, my head swam, and I hardly knew what was said, but I repeated the responses, and I was—a wife. When the ceremony was over, and I was attempting to rise from my knees, I fell, and was carried by the colonel into the vestry, where I remained on a chair trembling with fear. After a time the colonel asked me if I was well enough to sign my name to the marriage register, and he put the pen in my hand. I could not see where to sign, my eyes were swimming with tears. The clergyman guided my hand to the place, and I wrote Adele Chabot. The knowledge what the effect of this signature might possibly have upon my husband quite overcame me, and I sunk my head down upon my hands upon the table. "I will send for a glass of water, sir,' said the clergyman, leaving the vestry to call the verger or clerk, the lady is fainting." 6 "After he went out I heard the colonel and his friend speaking in low tones apart. Probably they thought that I was not in a condition to pay attention to them,-but I had too much at stake. Feb.-VOL. LXXIX. NO. CCCXIV. N "Yes,' replied the colonel, she has signed as you say, but she hardly knows what she is about. Depend upon it it is as I told you.' "I did not hear the major's reply, but I did what the colonel said. "It's all the better; the marriage will not be legal, and I can bring the parents to my own terms.' "All doubt was now at an end. He had married me convinced, and still convinced that I was Caroline Stanhope, and not Adele Chabot, and he had married me supposing that I was an heiress. My blood ran cold, and in a few seconds I was senseless, and should have fallen under the table had they not perceived that I was dropping over and ran to my support. The arrival of the clergyman with the water recovered me. My husband whispered to me that it was time to go, and that a carriage was at the door. I do not recollect how I left the church; the motion of the carriage first roused me up, and a flood of tears came to my relief. How strange is it, Valerie, that we should be so courageous and such cowards at the same time. Would you believe that when I had collected myself, that with a certain knowledge that my husband had deceived himself—a full conviction of the danger of my position when he found out his mistake, and that my future happiness was at stake-I felt glad that the deed was done, and would not have been unmarried again for the universe. As I became more composed I felt that it was time to act. I wiped away my tears and said, as I smiled upon my husband, who held my hand in his, "I know that I have behaved very ill, and very foolishly, but I was so taken by surprise.' 666 Do you think that I love you the less for showing so much feeling, my dearest?' he replied, no, no, it only makes you still more dear to me, as it convinces me what a sacrifice you have made for my sake.' "Now, Valerie, could there be a prettier speech, or one so apparently sincere, from a newly-married man to his bride, and yet recollect what he had said to his friend not a quarter of an hour before about having my parents in his power by the marriage not being legal. I really am inclined to believe that we have two souls, a good and an evil one, continually striving for mastery; one for this world, and the other for the next, and that the evil one will permit the good one to have its influence provided that at the same time it has its own or an equal share in the direction of us. For instance, I believe the colonel was sincere in what he said, and really does love me, supposing me to be Caroline Stanhope, with the mundane advantages to be gained by the marriage, and that these better feelings of humanity are allowed to be exercised and not interfered with by the adverse party, who is satisfied with its own Mammon share. But the struggle is to come when the evil spirit finds itself defrauded of its portion, and then attempts to destroy the influence of the good. He does love me now, and would have continued to love me if disappointment will not tear up his still slightly rooted affections. Now comes my task to cherish and protect it till it has taken firm root, and all that woman can do shall be done. I felt that all that I required was time. "Where are we going?' said I. "About twenty miles from London,' replied my husband, which, that is to-morrow, you shall decide upon our future plans.' after "I care not where,' replied I, with you place is indifferent, only do not refuse me the first favour that I request of you.' "Depend upon it I will not,' replied he. "It is this, dearest, take me where you will, but let it be three months before we return or come near London. You must feel my reason for making this request.' "I grant it with yours, and yours only. 6 pleasure,' replied he, for three months I am We will live for one another.' "Yes, and never let us mention any thing about future prospects, but devote the three months to each other." "I understand you,' replied the colonel, and I promise you it shall be so. I will have no correspondence even-there shall be nothing to annoy you or vex you in any way.' "For three months,' said I, extending my hand. 666 you Agreed,' said he, and to tell you the truth, it would have been my own feeling, had it not been yours. When strike iron, you should do it when it is hot, but when you have to handle it, you had better wait till it is cool; you understand me, and now the subject is dropped.' "My husband has adhered most religiously to his word up to the present time, as you will see by the date of this letter. We are now visiting the lakes of Cumberland. Never could a spot be better situated for the furtherance of my wishes. The calm repose and silent beauty of these waters must be reflected upon the mind of any one of feeling, which the colonel certainly does not want, and when you consider that I am exerting all the art which poor woman has to please, I do hope and pray to Heaven that I may succeed in entwining myself round his heart before his worldly views are destroyed by disappointment. Pray for me, dear Valerie-pray for one who loves you dearly, and who feels that the happiness of her whole life is at stake. "Yours, "ADELE." So far all goes well, my dear Adele, thought I, but we have yet to see the end. I will pray for you with all my heart, for you deserve to be happy, and none can be more fascinating than you, when you exert yourself. What is it in woman that I do not feel which makes them so mad after the other sex? Instinct, certainly, for reason is against it. Well, I have no objection to help others to commit the folly, provided that I am not led into it myself. Such were my reflections as I closed the letter from Adele. A few days afterwards I received a note from Mr. Selwyn, junior, informing me that his father had been made a puisne judge. What that was I did not know, except that he was a judge on the bench of some kind. He also stated his intention of calling upon me on the next day. "Yes," thought I, "to receive the music from Caroline. Of course she will return it to me when I give her a lesson to-day." I was right in my supposition. Caroline brought me a piece of music with a note, saying, "Here is the music belonging to Miss Selwyn, Valerie; will you take an opportunity of returning it to her? Any time will do; I presume, she is in no hurry," and Caroline coloured up when her eyes met mine. To punish her, I replied, "Oh, no, there can be no hurry; I shall be down at Kew in a fortnight or three weeks, I will take it with me then." |