the world. At his death this vast dominion | charm of a famous name, and new armies was divided, and Ferghana, in Central Asia, came round his flag. While Sherbana ruled descended through various hands to Baber, in his paternal kingdom, he marched away who speedily emulated his great predeces- and conquered the important territory of sor's renown. It was he who built up the Kabul, and then Candahar, returning occaMogul throne in Hindostan, and this link, sionally to harass his enemy and rival. Graconnecting his history with our own, drew dually ascending eastward, he entered Sindh, Mr. Erskine into the study of those exciting and subdued it; then Moultan fell before his events and those wonderful periods in the arms, and the splendid region of India lay history of man on which he based the re- before him. Thus brought within reach of markable work suggestive of this article. what had been his nation's greatest ambition, Had he lived to complete it, there is little he half forgot the throne he had lost, and doubt that our literature would have been four times successively, at the head of a enriched by a book as are in its character, powerful host, he attacked the kings of Inand as interesting in its contents, as any we dia. As many times they drove his forces possess on the wild and brilliant story of back; but he invaded their frontiers once Eastern conquest and rule. As it is, the vol- more, and at last victoriously. From Umumes now published are masterpieces of balla he marched to Delhi; from Delhi to learning, of criticism, and of narrative. They Agra, and through the provinces around, explore passages of Indian history which until the family of Lodi rulers passed away had been neglected; they lead us past the for ever. Not even the Rajpoots could reprofound researches of the French (the Eng- sist his extending authority. Their cavalry lish had made none) into the original ar- was routed; their fortified cities were burnchives of Asia, and the result is, as we have ed; Baber left them prostrate and crossed said, a work which, for integrity and value, the Ganges, gradually increasing the circle has not often been exceeded. of his sway, and at last restoring himself for awhile to the possession of his ancient inheritance in Central Asia. At his death, in 1530, he left the character of an illustrious monarch, enterprising, ardent, frank, gifted with fine talents himself, and peculiarly sensible of merit in others. He was born while every neighboring throne was occupied by his relatives. Scarcely was he grown to manhood when not one of these remained; he was the sole remnant of his house, and yet he planted a brilliant and powerful dynasty. Humayun, his successor, with inferior qualities, inherited the same difficulties and perils. His empire had been acquired by his father only five years before, and the labor of conquest was still going on. The people and the chiefs were not unanimous in his favor. The kingdom around Persia, Samarcand, Bokhara, Hissa, Balk, and Hindostan itself, contained many daring spirits as piring to the throne. We therefore follow Humayun without astonishment, through infinite changes of fortune. We perceive him struggling with armed rivals on every side. After a long conflict, he broke the independence of Central India, and curbed the chiefs of Malwa and Guzerat, though these dominions were scarcely acquired before they were again wrested from him. He next conquered and lost Bengal, and at length fell from the throne of Hindostan, which saw itself once more under the Afghan race of kings. Humayun, at first, enjoyed a fluctuating author Passing on from the introductory pictures, representing the Tartar races rising in their own deserts and overflowing their natural frontiers, to the lives of Baber and his son Humayun, we follow the course of Tartar conquest in India. Baber was by his flatterers traced to a collateral lineage with Jenghiz Khan, so that the dynasty he founded in Hindostan was called the Mogul. The vicissitudes of this wonderful man's career may be rapidly recounted to show of what elements the history of such a conqueror consists. He first succeeded to the throne of the little kingdom of Ferghana, which, while still a youth, he had to defend against invaders on all sides. The neighboring territory of Samarcand, a rich and populous country, was then convulsed by domestic anarchy, and Baber interrupted its revolutions by suddenly taking possession of it. While thus engaged, his brother revolted at home, and, marching to quell him, a rebellion rose behind him, not only in his new dominions in Samarcand, but in Arbejan also, and he lost them both. The campaign restored him the latter, and the former he regained for a short time; but at that juncture a Tartar chief, named Sherbana, suddenly sprang to great power, and, for a while, the star of Baber was completely eclipsed. He had once to capitulate, and twice to escape from captivity. Nevertheless, his mighty spirit rose under these disasters; he had still the ity in Sindh, but was speedily a fugitive, and passed from the deserts into Persia, where he began to rise once more. He subdued several countries, while still an exile from his father's empire, and then determined again to seat himself in Agra, which purpose he accomplished only a short period before his death. to him. "Nobody will do this deed," said Ali Dost, a chief officer. "Thou," exclaimed Humayun, “what has come over thee? Go thou and do it." Jouher, the ewer-bearer, tells the sad story :-" Having received this order, we returned, and Gholam Ali said to the mirza (the emperor's brother), 'O mirza, would that Almighty God tore my tongue from the roots rather than that the words I speak should came from my mouth. But for the commands of princes there is no reThe orders are to lance your eyes.' 'Kill me at once,' said the mirza. Gholam Ali replied, None dares so far surpass his orders as to kill you.' He then proceeded to execute the work. Having folded a handkerchief, which he had in his hand, into a ball, to serve for a gag, the ferash (an inferior servant) thrust it into mirza's mouth as he struggled. They then held his hands, dragged him out of the pavilion, laid him on the ground, and struck the lance into his eyessuch was the will of God-fifty times, more or less. Like a brave man, he did not utter a single groan; but when a man sat down on his knees he said to him, 'Why do you sit on my knees? Will you not leave off?' Except this expression, he breathed not a complaint, but maintained a perfect manly firmness, till they poured some lemon juice and salt into his eyes. Being then tortured beyond endurance, calling on the name of God, he exclaimed aloud, O Lord! for the offences which I have committed in this world, surely, I have suffered retribution, and may now entertain hopes of my future salvation."" The history of Humayun is a wonderful and romantic story; but perhaps one of the most striking episodes in it relates to his brother, who, being faithless to his royal re-medy. lative, was pursued, assailed, and defeated. Nothing remained but to dispose of him. Now Baber's last command to Humayun was, that however any of his brothers might offend, he should never put one of them to death. Mr. Erskine proceeds to describe the catastrophe. "Though strongly urged on every side, Humayun obstinately persisted in refusing to imbrue his hands in his brother's blood; but he resolved, by depriving him of his eyesight, to render him unfit for public life. For this purpose he ordered the mirza's servants to be removed from about his person, and supplied their place by some of his own. He instructed his ewer-bearer, Jouher, from whom we have the detailed particulars of this event, to watch the interior of the tent, and on no account to yield to sleep for a moment. Jouher went on duty about af ternoon prayers, when the unhappy prince asked for a prayer carpet, and having received it, prostrated himself in prayer." (Vol. ii. p. 413.) He asks his guard what is to be done with him, and Jouher evaded a reply by saying, "His Majesty the emperor is most merciful." Thus the night passed away. Next morning, Humayun gave orders that his brother's eyes should be lanced, and set out on his march, giving orders that the victim should follow him when he had suffered his punishment. The servants, however, disputed about the task, each wishing to put it on another; at last, three of them gallopped after the emperor to appeal When Humayun met his sightless brother, he could not refrain from sobbing aloud, and loaded him with affectionate expressions. Such are the miserable acts by which power seeks to preserve itself against that envy which an unnatural elevation excites. Mr. Erskine's history abounds in such illustrations. It is a work, indeed, not often exceeded in interest, and it decides the reputation of its author. From Bentley's Miscellany. TERESA BANDETTINI, THE IMPROVISATRICE. AMONGST the many curious means to which Lucca had, occasionally, recourse in order to maintain an independence, disproportioned, it must be confessed, as the world goes, to her size or physical force, not the least curious, perhaps, were the talents of an Improvisatrice, which were crowned with the most complete success. Judging by my own experience, I am under the impression that the profession, if I may so call it, of an improvisatore or improvisatrice is very imperfectly understood, and greatly underrated by the generality of untravelled English, I think it may not therefore be misplaced to say a few words upon the earlier life and studies of one of the most celebrated of her class. Teresa Bandettini was born at Lucca somewhere about the year 1765, in the humblest ranks of life, and was another instance of the struggles against annihilation, which the unfostered spark of genius is generally compelled to make, before it finds or recognizes its proper sphere. For beneath the reach of moral cultivation, that spark which, however, brooks not repose, first manifested itself in her by a sort of grace in her movements, so far different from those of her companions, that at an early age she was admitted as a dancer at a minor theatre; and for some years her parents were not only content but proud to receive a miserable pittance for such an exercise of the talents of her who was destined to be crowned Poetess and Improvisatrice at the Roman Arcadia, to be the theme of the verses of Mazza, of Monti, and of Alfieri, and finally to save her country from what must have been a fatal surprise, by the respect and the prestige with which her name was surrounded. But, however satisfied were her mediocre parents, very different was it with herself, who still felt "that within which passeth show." Her introduction to the theatre gave her access to some books of poetry, and, fortunately for her, amongst them were Metastasio and Tasso. The healthful young appetite at once recognized and seized with avidity upon the congenial fare. She devoured all the poems which by any means she could procure; and her wakening soul thirsting still for more, and, like all young people, believing that what they desire is to be found somewhere in the world, if they only seek for it, she left Lucca and made her way to Florence. It is said that she had not been long there when, from reading poetry, she proceeded to attempt writing it, and, between such attempts, (which, however, were far from prefiguring her future greatness,) and the soul which she now began to throw into her dancing, she there received the name of the "Figurante Poetesca," or the poetical dancer. That her fame and name were still confined to the lowest circles is evident from two circumstances: firstly, that she was utterly unknown during that period to the celebrated Corilla Olimpica, that the most famous improvisatrice of the world, who was then at Florence; and secondly that, while there, she married a buffo dancer named Landrini, who became the bête noir of her after-life. Though worldly inexperience, however, caused her thus in one way to undervalue and throw herself away, conscious genius still whispered that she had not yet found its sphere; and away she went once more in search of it. This time she arrived at Bologna, and there, patronized by the Count Ludovico Savioli, author of the classical little work called "Amori," she seems to have made her first step upon that path which was at the opening covered with thorns destined, as she advanced, to disappear amongst clustering roses. She here wrote a little poem in four cantos, entitled, "The Death of Adonis ;" and, showing the manuscript to her patron, he returned her the poem not only elegantly printed at his own expense, but adorned with the first engravings of Francesco Rosaspina. This timely and delicate aid enabled her to abandon her early profession, so unworthy of her talents; and encouraged her to decide upon trusting her future fortunes, or at least, subsistence to extemporary recitation. I do not know exactly why she did not continue longer at Bologna; but she left it for Ferrara, where she had some very trifling suc 1 cess, through the indulgent protection of the | that disagreeable monotony and consequent poet Manzoni. From thence she went to weariness which must otherwise have been the Venice, then to Padua, still with only such result, especially as he laid down and adhersuccess as, while enabling her to supported to the rule never to allow more than one existence, was far from satisfying that thirst after fame which some one says is the inseparable companion of genius. From Padua, Teresa Bandettini went to Verona, and here there took place another sort of crisis in her fortunes, the reverse of that which befell her at Bologna. Verona was at that time the Athens of the North of Italy; many are the names both of men and women, dear to Italian literature, who were there assembled. But it was not that circumstance alone which made any literary or artistic success difficult there just then; there was yet another which exerted its baneful influence more directly upon the particular branch for which La Bandettini came to solicit their suffrages. Just before her arrival there had departed from amidst those brilliant circles one of those gifted beings, which, rare everywhere, are unknown in colder climes. The Duke Gasparo Mollo, young, handsome, rich, noble, with a voice of the most silvery sweetness and cultivated flexibility, and possessing the gift of singing extemporary poetry, had been for some time the attraction of all eyes, the delight of all ears, and, if all be true, the idol of too many hearts. Having received from nature these two latter, and peculiarly southern gifts; the talent of composing extemporary verses, and a soft delightfully musical voice for singing themwhich though no study can ever give, never can be carried to perfection without it,-his position in life enabled him to second them by such advantages as fall to the lot of few. Paesiello, Cimarosa, Zingarelli, and other musical composers, whose names are nearly as well known in England as in their native land, were his contemporaries, and the talents of each and all were put into requisition, in order to compose airs peculiarly adapted to the voice and powers of the noble amateur, who seems to have possessed besides the rarest and best of all gifts, and which, in fact, gives value to all others, namely, that of keeping within the rôle for which nature had qualified them. Feeling, or at least believing, that his talents did not extend to sublimity of conception, great powers of imagination, or even exuberance of fancy, he caused airs to be composed to suit the different metres of poetry then most in vogue; and by adapting his extemporary effusions to these varied airs and measures he contrived to prevent subject to be proposed for the exercise of his talent in the same evening. For instance -on one occasion he was given as a subject, the Creation of the World. After a few minutes given to reflection he decided upon dividing it into five parts; each part being of a different measure, and sung consequently to different airs. The first contained the description of the Almighty Father, surrounded by his angels, as he is represented by Michael Angelo in the Sistini Chapel at Rome, about to inspire Adam with the breath of life. The second division contained the surprise of Adam when he looked around him on Creation. The third, the creation of the Woman. The fourth, the dialogue between Adam and Eve. The fifth, the hymn of thanks of both to their Almighty Creator and with this variety in music and in measure, given by such a voice, it is easy to understand that even where he did not deserve applause, he never failed to excite delight; and that criticism itself was taken captive by his graceful tact and ingenuity. Nor was it the least proof of these latter qualities that, while doubly enjoying his success from the very consciousness that it was beyond his deserts, he prudently resolved to withdraw himself from its scene before his dazzled admirers should have time to cool into critics, and while unsated enthusiasm was sure for a time to increase by absence. Such was the predecessor whom Teresa Bandettini offered herself to replace, and such the moment selected or doomed for that offer. But before proceeding to the result, it is desirable to have some more precise idea of the attractions she had to oppose to his. She was at that time about twenty-six or twenty-seven years of age. In appearance she was one of those whom nature seems only to sketch out, leaving the outlines to be filled up according to the circumstances that may befall in after-life. For instance, she was of good stature, tall enough to have become a fine woman, when acknowledged genius, and its consequent triumphs, added dignity to the air of good society, to the carriage and movements already graceful from her early profession, yet not tall enough to have rescued her from utter insignificance had her circumstances continued adverse. Her features were fairly enough formed; but though her eyes were of the intensest black, large and well enlightened by benevolence, enabled him to recognize the kindred sparks, and to perceive that they were only prevented from blazing forth by the want of materials. He called upon her next day, and taking a beneficent advantage of his age, his rank, his literary and private character, and even of his per opened, it was not until cultivation drew | forth the latent fire from the depths of her soul that they became brilliant and expressive; and her well-carved mouth only assumed its smiling expression in reflecting that which the world so profusely lavished on her at last. When she made her appearance at Verona, none of these favorable circumstan-sonal misfortune, for he was blind-" Listen ces had taken place. She was a plain, poor, uneducated, inexperienced woman, without even the attraction of a superior voice, though after cultivation rendered it sufficiently agreeable, endeavoring to leave the miserable trade of a second or third-rate stage dancer, by the force of a talent which she declared herself to possess, but which the want of cultivation prevented from appearing; and as if to fill up the measure of her disadvantages, she was accompanied by a low, stupid, obtrusive husband, who during her or his whole life, in any circumstances, was seldom a moment absent from her side, or failed to throw the weight of his dullness into the sparkling gaiety of her conversation. Such was the person who, without presumption however, or even that self-confidence which for a time imposes on the many, but from the mere necessity of procuring the means of living—a motive in itself the last to propitiate those from whom those means are expected-offered herself to the fastidious society of Verona, to replace the gay, brilliant, handsome and accomplished cavalier who only asked sweet smiles and brilliant glances as the guerdon of his cultivated and elegant talents. Poor Teresa ! Mortified, abashed, and discouraged, she filed rather than withdrew from Verona; probably had she had the means of existing, however miserably, without further appeals to the public, that moment would have sealed her doom, and lost to Italy one of her brightest modern ornaments; but necessity though a rugged is a healthful and healthinspiring nurse. She went to Mantua, and there at once boldly announced an evening for exhibiting her talent as an Improvisatrice, with permission offered to any or every one present to propose a subject. The announcement was startling, and fortunately for her, and for all who ever after heard her, it attracted the attention of one of those guardian angels of man's earthly happiness, whose visits are indeed "few and far between," who, spying out the obstructions to it, occupy themselves in endeavoring to remove them. The Count Girolamo Murari sug- | gested a subject to the trembling aspirant. She handled it poorly, but his own genius, to me, Teresa," he said, "and take in good part what I am about to say. You are gifted with genius, but success in your present state is impossible, because your genius is of that kind which is obliged to offer the proof of its existence in treating of whatever subjects others may please to give you, and that cannot be done without information so general, as will enable you if not to treat every subject profoundly, at least to adorn, vary, sport with them so as to charm those whom you may not be able to enlighten. This general information is only to be acquired by deep and serious study, particularly since poetry is your gift, by studying the ancient classics, which will furnish you with inexhaustible mines from which to draw at your discretion. This has not been, is not yet, in your power to procure, but I have the opportunity of offering it to you. Come to my house with your husband, look upon it as your own, upon me as your father, give your mind into my keeping, and I shall feel myself more than recompensed by bestowing upon the world one such as you then will become." The gratitude with which such an invitation was received by a gentle amiable woman, full of talent and sensibility, in La Bandettini's position, must be left to the imagination of the reader. The time, the place, all was propitious to the good man's views; for there were just then residing at Mantua, Andrea, who had already commenced the publication of his celebrated "Storia della litteratura universale;" I Bettinelli, the poet, who was then in his seventy-third year, but who lived for seventeen years after 11 Bondi, who was at that moment occupied in a translation of Virgil more literal, if not so attractive, as that of Annibale Caro, who was said to have converted Virgil's gold into silver; and the Abbé Bazoli, author of a version of the Iliad and the Odyssey, who, though but an indifferent poet, was so learned, so good, so gentle and benevolent, that Murari selected him as the immediate preceptor of his protégé, while she had the advantage of a constant intercourse with all the others, as well as with whatever else Mantua had to boast of talent and erudition. Her |