opinion in a great measure, but the only || Preston.-(Here, it appeared as if every means allowed them to create a power in the community was uncertain and temporary. Her ladyship requested leave to introduce to their notice the fourth resolution "That it is the opinion of this meeting that effectual measures be taken for immediately carrying into effect the preceding resolutions." The Marchioness of Devizes briefly seconded the motion. At this stage of the proceedings, a middle-aged female, rather showily dressed, was observed to rise, and endeavour to address the company. Some coughing prevailed, but she did not notice it. The men, she observed, say that the schoolmaster's abroad, but we'll also shew them that the schoolmistress is on her travels: (much laughter, mingled with coughing) as I said to my husband before he made his last speech on the Reform Bill.(Hear from the Marchioness of Brambleberry.) No, it was not here, Ma'am, it was in our house at home.-(Laughter.) Suppose, says I, we ladies were to get up a House of Commons of our own, it's as likely a thing as not they'd return me for individual in the room was violently attacked with catarrh, shouts of laughter arose, and the speaker, after making many ineffectual attempts to be heard, at last sat down, muttering something about some people not knowing how to behave themselves.) All the resolutions had been carried unanimously, and after the Marchioness of Brambleberry had left the chair, a vote of thanks for the able and impartial manner in which she had filled that arduous office, was proposed by Lady Tankardville, seconded by the Countess of Growthinner, and carried with acclamations. After which, the meeting separated. A strong party of the constabulary force were at hand, and it was rumoured that a troop of horse were in readiness, in case of any commotion, as great fear existed on the part of the government, that a tumult would be attempted. happy to say that such precautions were entirely unnecessary, for the meeting passed off with as much quietness and decorum, as the most loyal of political associations. Not a window was broken! A WISH. I WOULD I had a wing, an eye, but most a taste as free, Methinks he seeks them just because they cannot prize his care. Just glancing up, one moment, from the brooks-their looking glasses. He whispers the proud Rose-" Ay, thou hast piercing thorns, no doubt, But only for the Butterflies, who flutter round about; Such coward fops may dread the scorn of her the sun admires, We are W*. I-leap into thy heart at once, and there I find no briars !" E'en weeds, let them shew ne'er so rude, he hath no wish to doubt 'em, I. H. THE LIVING ITALIAN CORINNA. WHO that has read Madame de Staël's works, does not feel interested by the name of the living Corinna? Who, that has travelled through Italy within the last fifteen years, has not heard of, or known the Improvisatrice Rosina Taddei? However, as all have not visited Italy, I think that a short account of this extraordinary genius cannot but be acceptable, especially to our fair readers. Francesco Taddei, the father of Rosina, was, in his youth, destined for the bar; but when, in the year 1795, the infamous Caroline of Austria, Queen of Naples, || with the aid of her favourite Acton, established the well-known Politico-Inquisi- || torial junta, for the extermination of all those who would not blindly submit to the despotism of their rulers, he suffered severe persecutions, and to avoid greater misfortune, voluntarily exiled himself from his native country, and retired into Tuscany. Here he applied his efforts to the attainment of the same profession, but his pecuniary resources failing, he could not perfect his studies, and in consequence engaged himself with a theatrical company. Possessing a person and cast of countenance allied to the comic, and endowed with a considerable portion of natural wit, his success as a comic actor was very remarkable, and he in time became the manager of an Italian strolling theatrical company. In this station he still remains. Rosina was from her infancy intended for the stage, and has acted both in tragedy and comedy. At the age of twelve years she began to give unequivocal proofs of an innate poetical talent, by|| frequently singing to her parents and friends extemporaneous poetry on domestic events. At this period Francesco granted her permission to read Metastasio and Tasso. This increased her passion for poetry, and she became the most of fourteen her father began to introduce her into the society of the different towns of which his company was performing, and before the age of sixteen Rosina was well known as an improvisatrice in seveIral capitals of Upper and Middle Italy. The friends of Francesco now advised him to carry his daughter into the city of the Seven Hills, there to give a fair trial to her genius. Rome at that epoch, after so long a war, was visited by numerous foreigners and travellers, who poured into that city from every quarter of the globe, to admire the ancient and modern monuments, and to witness the folly and inconsistency of the Roman bacchanalia. These circumstances offered a fine opportunity for bringing to the test the promising genius of the youthful improvisatrice, who accordingly arrived at Rome, accompanied by her parents, about the middle of January, 1817. Taddei was a countryman of mine, and had been recommended to me by the Marquis Parenti, president of the Labronian Academy at Leghorn. The first conversation I had with Rosina was sufficient to enable me to form my judgment of her abilities, and I easily perceived that she possessed all the qualities of a true improvisatrice; she spoke on all subjects with facility and eloquence, and her expressions and ideas bore the imprint of poetry: I therefore did all in my power to forward her projects, and to encourage her hopes. Prince Kounitz was then ambassador of the Emperor of Austria to the court of Pius VII. Being honoured by his intimate acquaintance, and knowing that he was a great patron of arts, sciences, and literature, I took the opportunity of speaking to him in favour of my interesting protegée. The prince generously offered to give a diplomatic evening ardent admirer of the Italian Improvisa- | party, for the purpose of her introductori. Knowing that a perfect knowledge tion, and assured me that he would himof history and mythology was indispen- || sable for the poet, she applied herself with the utmost eagerness and perseverance to these studies, and in a short time acquired a great proficiency. At the age self present to the assembly the young improvisatrice. The principal members of the Arcadia, and of the Accademia Tiberina, were also to be invited to this poetical rout. When I informed Rosina of the prince's intention, she became pale as death, and being naturally timid and diffident, was almost fainting at the idea of presenting herself before such a conspicuous meeting; but in conjunction with her parents, I raised her failing spirits, and on the appointed evening accompanied her to the Palace Braschi, which is a standing proof against pontifical spoliation and aggrandizement, and was then the residence of Prince Kounitz. The company was numerous and brilliant. Cardinals, Monsignori of all kinds, princes, ambassadors, princesses, and the flower of all the nobility and literati had collected in the magnificent drawing-rooms. The prince having introduced Rosina, several subjects, as it is the custom, were written on slips of paper by many of the guests, and thrown in an urn. The young and beautiful Princess Kounitz drew the first, which was-The meeting of Petrarch and Laura in the Elysian fields. Rosina advanced slowly and tremblingly towards the musician, who was to accompany her. She wore no ornaments on her person; her features, although not handsome, were regular and pleasing, and, from her extreme youth, highly interesting. Her dress consisted of a single white robe, her hair arranged in the Grecian style. Her large black eyes inspired sympathy and attention, and contrasted beautifully with the paleness of her face. After having remained for a few minutes, with her eyes fixed on the ground, as if in a deep meditation, she commenced in a sweet voice, addressing || an invocation to Laura, that as she had rendered Petrarch immortal, so she now would render her extemporaneous poetry acceptable to the auditors. She then rapidly descended into the Elysian fields, where, after having described the happiness and enjoyments of several of the fortunate inhabitants of those regions, she introduced the amorous Petrarch and his adored Laura. She painted the poet, restored to his youthful bloom, dressed in a white garment, and bearing on his head a laurel crown. He walked between Socrates and Ovid, and discovering Laura || at a certain distance, had left his companions to go to his mistress. It would be impossible to express in prose the beauty | of the poetical effusions with which Rosina described this interview. They were truly surprising for pathos, delicacy, and nature; and when she ended her song, she was enthusiastically applauded by all the company. The next subject drawn was-The Death of Narcissus, then Hannibal at the foot of the Alps, and lastly, Achilles swearing to revenge the death of his friend Patroclus. All of these were treated by Rosina with great success, and at the end she was again unanimously eulogized. Such was the admiration excited by her genius, that Prince Ghigi, and the Cavalier Odescalchi, desired her to honour with her presence an extraordinary meeting of the Accademia Tiberina, expressing their intention to elect her among the members of that learned society. Overjoyed at so triumphant a debût, I accompanied Rosina to her parents, and promised to be with her at the Accademia Tiberina. This took place three days afterwards, and her success was equal, if not greater than before; she was immediately admitted a member of the Tiberini, and engaged to attend the first meeting of the Arcadians, who were also anxious to choose her for one of the pastorelle of that colony. Being appointed as one of the Assessors of the Arcadia to grant her a pastoral name, according to the rules of that institution, I called her Licoris Parthenopea, and by this appellation she is now known to the Italian literati. Rosina metamorphosed into Licoris, obtained the greatest success she could wish for; her poetical genius had been tried and approved of, and she wanted nothing but exercise and study to render her name one of the most celebrated among the modern improvisatori. To this point of excellence she has fully attained, and during the last fifteen years she has been the main support of her family, has refused several advantageous matrimonial alliances, and has become a member of almost all the literary societies of her country. Her extemporaneous poems have been published in several volumes at Rome, Florence, Leghorn, Parma, Milan, and Turin, and the connaisseur in reading them, may easily perceive that Licoris has sung in Italy, for although her effusions are imprinted with natural colours, and adorned with beautiful descriptions, whenever freedom and independence are at stake, the poetess is almost always favourable to the despotism and absolutism of the Italian petty kings. About twelve months ago, having read an extemporaneous poem, delivered by Licoris a few months before at the court of Turin, in which she spoke very bitterly against the late French revolution, I wrote to her an expostulatory letter on her conduct, and received the following answer:-"I am scarcely permitted to sing even against freedom and independence. What would be my fate were I to advocate the cause of humanity, and unmask our despots and tyrants?" From this the English reader may form an idea of the present condition of unhappy Italy! I must not forget to mention that Rosina is well acquainted with the Greek, Latin, French, and English languages, and that, besides her extemporaneous songs, she writes good poetry, and literary essays for several Italian periodicals. F. M. M. TWO DAYS IN THE COUNTRY. HERR VON DROST was one of the richest and most accomplished of the youth of Germany. Dividing his time between company, the theatre, balls, concerts, his tailor, and his horse, he had reached his twenty-fifth year. Till now the passion of a day, and the despair of an evening, had been equally forgotten the next morning; but twenty-five is a dangerous age for the heart! The sun had risen brightly, and set brightly, and he had not left his room for a whole day. A whole day at home! He had not sent for a physician, and yet (how very strange!) he had staid at home. He laid the playbill on the table unread; walked hastily up and down the room, and became thoughtful. It was for the first time in his life. The valet looked at him suspiciously. "Had I only those two hours again in my possession," cried he, and threw himself on the sofa."I sit two hours by her side, and have not the courage to look at her, even once; I mutter a few unintelligible words, she asks me if I have said any thing; in my embarrassment I stammer out some silly remark on music, and a gigantic officer of the guards leads her away to the carriage." Drost ordered his dinner; alas! he could not order an appetite: it was removed untouched. He threw himself sleepless on the bed: "Could I but have those two hours back again!" he sighed, and went through the whole dictionary of love. Now, he knew very well what he should have said. Worn out, at length, || he fell asleep, and awoke horror-stricken from a dream-for he had stabbed the gigantic guardsman. It was again daylight: he ordered his horse. The English hunter pranced through the street where she lived; all the windows flew open. There was the house; a white figure moved in the window. His heart beat quick, both spurs were struck into his bay; the fiery animal reared and snorted. The people terrified, fled from the street. "Take care!" said a voice, which he knew to be hers. His blood rushed impetuously through his veins, and the wild animal he rode shot like an arrow by the house. He paced up and down his apartment; her voice resounded in his ears. But he had not once thanked her even by a glance-not once saluted her as he rode past. "I must rectify that," said he, impatiently; "it gives me an opportunity of writing. I can write, what I could not say to her," and he sat down. "Madam!" he wrote-but his ideas were all in confusion; he had to make excuses for his want of politeness, and to thank her for her anxiety. Excuses and thanks are two humiliating things. Twenty times he dipped his pen into the ink; his embarrassment encreased; he sat half an hour, and had scarcely written a syllable. He started up; “it is better that I should go,” said he; and he snatched up his hat. The movement brought him before his lookingglass. For the first time in his life, he stood melancholy, and embarrassed, before the mirror; he examined himself timidly. The ghost in the uniform, stood before him! He reckoned up his income to himself-his courage rose; the more he reckoned, the smaller grew the ghost. He was independent, young, and had a heart and hand to offer. In three minutes he was at her house. He entered with timidity; two immense boots rattled down the steps; and the next minute, Drost, with an oppressed heart, squeezed himself into a corner, to let the officer of the guards bustle by. He then, in a low, stifled voice, gave the servant his name. The folding doors flew open. "You threw us all in a terrible fright,” cried Julia, advancing towards him. Julia was the youngest daughter of Herr von Zetter, who possessed a fine house, fine horses, little property, and handsome daughters. She had just emerged from school, and had conquered five hundred hearts by her first danceDrost's among them. The ball was over; the elegant figures, attracted by gaiety, vanished with the music. But Drost could not forget the figure of the dancer. |