advice, which was singularly akin to an order. I held to my remonstrance; but the next day I learned that one of the most distinguished men of letters of Germany, M. Schlegel, who for eight years had been good enough to take charge of the education of my sons, had just received the order not only to leave Geneva, but also Coppet. I was desirous to represent once more that in Switzerland the prefect of Geneva could give no orders [Geneva was then under French rule]: but I was told that if I liked better that this order should come from the French ambassador, I could so have it: that this ambassador would address himself to the landamman, and the landamman to the canton de Vaud, and the authorities of the canton would turn M. Schlegel out of my house. By forcing despotism to take this roundabout way, I should have gained ten days; but nothing more. I asked to know why I was deprived of the society of M. Schlegel, my friend, and that of my children. The prefect who was accustomed, like most of the Emperor's agents, to connect very gentle phrases with very harsh acts— told me that it was from consideration for me that the government removed from my house M. Schlegel, who made me unpatriotic. Truly touched by this paternal care on the part of the government, I inquired what M. Schlegel had done inimical to France: the prefect spoke of his literary opinions, and among other things, of a brochure by him, in which, comparing the "Phædra" of Euripides to that of Racine, he gave the preference to the former. It showed much delicate feeling in a monarch of Corsican birth to take sides in this manner about the finer details of French literature. But the truth was, M. Schlegel was exiled because he was my friend, because his conversation animated my solitude; the system was beginning to be worked that was to manifest itself more clearly, of making for me a prison of my soul, by depriving me of all the enjoyments of society and of friendship. ROME ANCIENT AND MODERN. (From "Corinne.") ONE of the most singular churches in Rome is St. Paul's: its exterior is that of an ill-built barn; yet it is bedecked within by eighty pillars of such exquisite material and proportion that they are believed to have been transported from an Athenian temple described by Pausanias. If Cicero said in his day, "We are surrounded by vestiges of history," what would he say now? Columns, statues, and pictures are so prodigally crowded in the churches of modern Rome, that in St. Agnes's, bas-reliefs turned face downward serve to pave a staircase; no one troubling himself to ascertain what they might represent. How astonishing a spectacle was ancient Rome, had its treasures been left where they were found! The immortal city would be still before us nearly as it was of yore; but could the men of our day dare to enter it? The palaces of the Roman lords are vast in the extreme, and often display much architectural grace; but their interiors are rarely arranged in good taste. They have none of those elegant apartments invented elsewhere for the perfect enjoyment of social life. Superb galleries, hung with the chefs-d'œuvre of the tenth Leo's age, are abandoned to the gaze of strangers by their lazy proprietors, who retire to their own obscure little chambers, dead to the pomp of their ancestors, as were they to the austere virtues of the Roman republic. The country-houses give one a still greater idea of solitude, and of their owners' carelessness amid the loveliest scenes of nature. One walks immense gardens, doubting if they have a master; the grass grows in every path, yet in these very alleys are the trees cut into shapes, after the fantastic mode that once reigned in France. Strange inconsistency - this neglect of essentials and affectation in what is useless! Most Italian towns, indeed, surprise us with this mania, in a people who have constantly beneath their eyes such models of noble simplicity. They prefer glitter to convenience; and in every way betray the advantages and disadvantages of not habitually mixing with society. Their luxury is rather that of fancy than of comfort. Isolated among themselves, they dread not that spirit of ridicule, which in truth seldom penetrates the interior of Roman abodes. Contrasting this with what they appear from without, one might say that they were rather built to dazzle the peas antry than for the reception of friends. 66 EDMUND CLARENCE STEDMAN. STEDMAN, EDMUND CLARENCE, an American poet and critic; born at Hartford, Conn., October 8, 1833. He studied at Yale College about two years. In 1854 he became editor of the Winsted 'Herald," in Litchfield County, Conn., which he conducted until 1855, when he removed to New York. In 1859 he became connected with the New York "Tribune." In 1860 he put forth his first volume, "Poems, Lyric and Idyllic," containing many pieces which had already appeared in periodicals. In the same year he became connected with the New York "World," and during the first two years of the Civil War he was the Washington correspondent of that journal. In 1864 he abandoned journalism as a profession, and became a stock-broker in New York, but was active in literary pursuits. His subsequent volumes of poems are "Alice of Monmouth, and Other Poems" (1864); "The Blameless Prince, and Other Poems" (1869). As a critic and historian of literature he has attained a foremost place. His principal works in this department are "The Victorian Poets" (1875-87); "The Poets of America" (1885); and, in conjunction with Ellen Mackay Hutchinson, "The Literature of the Republic" (1888-90); "The Nature and Elements of Poetry (1892); "A Victorian Anthology" (1895); the Complete Edition of Poe, edited with Professor Woodberry, 1895. His poems have been published in a volume called "A Household Edition" (1884), and in "Poems Now First Collected," 1897. PAN IN WALL STREET. Just where the Treasury's marble front To throng for trade and last quotations; Even there I heard a strange, wild strain By permission of Houghton, Mifflin & Co. |