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was spectator of his death, he did not pity those who were at peace; his compassion belonged to the living alone, and as he rose from his prayer he exclaimed, "My beloved mother, what profound sorrow will the news thou art about to hear cause thee!" He looked upon the living multitude around him, and saw that the hard-visaged partisans of the usurper wept; he heard the sobs of his oppressed and conquered subjects; so he drew his glove from his hand and threw it among the crowd, in token that he still held his cause good, and submitted his head to the axe.

During many years after those events, Lostendardo enjoyed wealth, rank, and honour. When suddenly, while at the summit of glory and prosperity, he withdrew from the world, took the vows of a severe order in a convent, in one of the desolate and unhealthy plains by the sea-shore in Calabria; and after having gained the character of a saint, through a life of self-inflicted torture, he died murmuring the names of Corradino, Manfred, and Despina.

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THERE is a religion in literature as well as in love,—both of a very Pagan description. They abound in superstitions. We

e gaze upon the portrait of a favourite mistress or a favourite author, worshipping the memory of her kisses and his pages, till it becomes downright idolatry. With what ardent devotion we perform many a pilgrimage to our Lady—not of Loretto! and what a thrill in our bosoms, and how thankful are our hearts, when we approach, as towards some sainted shrine, the dwelling of " one who was great through mortal days, and died of fame unshorn!" Are we not in a blessed state when we find ourselves in his own garden, his own bed-room, his own parlour? Then if, according to a good custom, everything or something remains the same as when The lived there, they are precious relics working miracles in your imagination. That antique chair in Shakespear's house! A man cannot sit in it five minutes without fancying his modern dress is rapidly metamorphosing itself into ruff, jerkin, doublet, and hose; and in this visionary attire, how easy to persuade oneself that Shakespear "has just stepped -out, and will be back again immediately!" As for his tomb, telling me in very plain prose that he is certainly dead and 2. buried, I look upon it as an insolent piece of matter-of-fact. A poet can have no grave, except in the eyes of those he personally loved; and if they must rear him a monument, let it be an evergreen bower, it will last their time, and is a more graceful, and a more appropriate memorial than their

cold marble. We know of Milton's living in too many places, and want to know which he liked best. One of his houses is in the hands of a man worthy to be its owner;-I wonder why I did no more, than peep in at a window. A visit to Burns' cottage should not be missed. Go and be surrounded by the scenes of his youth, his joy, his hope, when his days were glorious as his imagination. And that part of Ayrshire is so beautiful! Go, I say, and be like one of his own poems, "with pleasance of the breathing fields - yfed." The worst is, the cottage is not in its original simple state, being altered and enlarged for the accommodation of visitors. Still there is a charm about it; for it was there, as Keats expresses it in one of his unpublished sonnets, written under the very roof,

"Where thou didst dream alone on budded bays,
Happy, and thoughtless of thy day of doom!"

I was asked to go into his house at Dumfries, the abode of his wretchedness, his despair. I do not exactly understand such a taste; it seems very Presbyterian. Owing to this want of taste for the miserable, I never went into Collins' house at the corner of the Cloisters of Chichester Cathedral. How melancholy it looks! There seems contagion in its very walls and window sashes. Often have I stood before it, and before Flaxman's monument to his memory, with as little desire to pass the threshold, as to enter his grave. The statu quo position of all sorts of furniture in Garrick's house at Hampton Court is too much for Garrick; besides, it is in obedience to his last Will and Testament. Dr. Johnson's bed-room in Thrale's villa at Streatham was worth seeing, till an auction spoiled it. The bow window looked into the garden; the paper and curtains, at his own request, were of a gay pattern, for the Doctor could not bear any addition to his own gloom; and there were the two desks, fixtures on each side of the

window, on which he wrote his "Lives of the Poets." As extremes are sure to meet, it is quite a natural transition from the "great Moralist," who left the world's morals as he found them, to the Visionary, as he is called, who really" did our state some service;" from the Court Pensioner, who humbly wrote "The False Alarm," and "Taxation no Tyranny," to the independent Citizen of Geneva, who chose rather to earn a hard livelihood as a copier of music, than receive a favour either from a Louis or a George. Come with me, reader, to Les Charmettes.

There are many other houses where Rousseau lived, which his admirers may visit as they please, but give me this, and this alone, for here only was he happy. Among these grand mountains, in this beautiful valley, he passed that period of his life, when, generally speaking, the character is stamped for ever. This was his school. As for the extraordinary finish to his education, which Madame de Warens was pleased to bestow, that is neither your affair nor mine; nor do I perceive the place is a jot the worse for it. But it was wrong! Grant it was so; yet are we to consider those six previous years he lived under her roof as nothing? "Then is Bohemia nothing!" Let the praise that is justly her due be freely allowed, especially as, in her after life, neither sex can offer an apology for her conduct. Her previous history says much in her favour. She was young, handsome, and accomplished, beloved by a host of friends, and enjoying an ample fortune, which she used nobly. Yet friends, fortune, and country, she relinquished for conscience' sake, and retired to Savoy on a precarious stipend from the King of Sardinia, It was then that Rousseau, at the age of sixteen, destitute of every thing, came recommended to her protection. She received him into her house, clothed him, supplied him with all the means in her power to obtain masters for the cultivation of his

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