The Press. — London, England, 1856-04-19 00:00:00

376 0 the ivhole work is the description of the 00era and the Gasoine at Florence, which evinces pictorial power Of a high ord,..r. though there is a tone in Mr. Jarves's remarks upon dress and equipage which betrays a want of familiarity with the innate refinement of Euro pmn gentlemen. His undisguised preference of America is diverting but not discreditable:— The world goes to the Opera as to a reunion. There they pay their visits, chat, laugh, partake of refreshments, turn their backs up to the stage—in short, almost drown by their conversation the music. The opera is nothing; the assemblage of fashion everything. A box, then, at the Pergola is really an economical atKiir, as it saves the ex pause of society under one's roof; it is a must amusing one, from the variety of ranks, nations, and toilets there represented. The En..;lish astonish there, as everywhere, with their brilliant colours, forests of plumes, and biz irre mcurcies; the Russians with their mines of precious stifles ; the Germans with their fair hair and brilliant • .mplexions; the Fl•xentines Ly their princely jewels, 1. se., and velvets, drawn from their imperishable here ditary stores; the French eclipse all by their matchless elegance, seemingly so simple and unstudied ; while the. A nericaus please all from their rarity and general good taste. The theatre is so constructed that while one half of the audience of the Loxes cm, if they choose, look toward the sage, the other half are necessarily turned toward the im• perial box, which is quite a hall of itself. Of course the architect never contemplated in his design the spectacle as the main object of the edifice. It is merely an auxiliary. If an opera, it attracts attention only from novelty or the harmony of particulad strains. But the ballet, which is introduced between the acts of the opera, rivets the atten tion of all. It is strange, but true, that a Florentine au• dience prefers poor dancing to good music. While the American, Miss Maywood, was with them, they had a legitimate excuse for their passion, for a more elastic, un tiring, and, the Italians say, graceful danseuse never ap peared on any boards. They exalt her above Cerito, Ellsler, and even Taglioni. But what carried them away nightly into a tempest of applause was the perfection of her time. The music and her limbs moved in such entire accord as to seen but one impulse. " Braves and encores" thundered over the house. Hands, feet, anti bpi were all in violent commotion in all quarters. No elo quence could have excited the susceptible Florentines to half such a pitch of - furore " as her legs. Bouquets as large Ls wine barrels were precipitated upon the stage, tb-ir numerous ribbons flattering gaily in the sir as they fell, like the pennants from a masthead. She fairly staggered under tneir weight. On one occasion, the prima donna, having vainly essayed to carry off a monster bouquet, greet fully drew it behind the scenes by its rib- bons, courtesying as she backed across the stage, amid the sheers of the spectators. At Msvwood's benefit it took three carriages to carry away the floral avalanche tumbled at her feet. All hail to Maps cod of the twinkling ankles. We were never supposed to know that American young ladies had those appendages. We were inclined to believe them an exception to the general law of nature, like the Manx cats ; and we can readily believe the Florentine "furore" to have been excited to the highest pitch by this elegant specimen of the latest novelty in legs. From the Opera we proceed to the Cast:hie • Just look at that carriage full of balky English ! heavy dames those, and dressed as most English women dress, so as to conceal beauty and exaggerate defect. The daughters are pretty enough, but see how unamiable they look—a thunder-cloud gathering before the sun. Turn your eyes a b.t and detect the cause. They ere miserable unless they can outdo their neighbours, the llaahawaya. At this moment they are undergoing the agonies of a defeat, fur Lord Twaddle, with his toot cendescenclingly placed upon the Ilashawaya* carriage -step, is ailing saucy things to the mother, and flirting desperately with the youngest of the girls. Nature has no charms tor such persons. Theit kappiness is made up of bows, beaus, and badinage. Just beyond them is that lair-haired Scotch clan, who so admir ably represents the pride and beauty of their country. They come as regularly as the sun to the Cascine, and hold ihewselves as coldly distant as the moon. Whose is that sweet face next to a mamma that looks worthy of such a ihughter? With what becoming elegance they are dressed! They are Americans, and the girl is to inherit a fortune of a =Won, it is said, but she looks as retiring and unassuming as if she hal never seen cite life. How unlike that dark beauty near her! She's Italian, not yet sixteen, but married at fourteen. At twelve she pro *and herself libelee end tired of the world of fashion. Like Merle Antoinette, she should retire to the country and play at milkmaid to recruit her exhausted seusi• Wades. • • • • • • • Among a 3 many lions of the first magnitu le. there was an cessation of curiosity. My friend hal barely time to dispose of one before I probed him upon another. His inernory was a perfect epitome of the life s Wan the life about as. I picked out a couple of the most distinguished appearance. The gentleman was driving a faultless span of black horses. He was one of the finest specimens of refined manly beanty I had ever seen. perfect to a nicety in his costume, with that unesaitgerced tone in both his mental and physical aspect that marks the polished man of the woritl. 'flit. Lady beside Aim was his equal in these *specie ; pale, nnanimatett, and delicate even beyond the American standard of (.-male loveliness. Their tiger " was the model of his species. 1 looked in vain for a Loop ole for criticism, and at last triumphantly exclaimed' THE PRESS. " There's my pattern for a family turnout. Count D'Orsay might rival, but could not excel, the chaste style of their entire appearance. Then, ton, tleir faces interest me prodie,riuusly. They seem so well matched. Who are they ?" • • • • • • • If the Italians needs must have masters, I am glad that they send them such tldelooking specimens of the warrior tribe as we find here. Their uniform does much for them, still it would be difficult to find more well•made, good•look ing men elsewhere. There trots by the Prince L---, the Austrian general in-chief, a genuine St George. He looks like a hard foe and a dare-devil friend. A chivalrous, gallant soldier all account him. There are more reasons than grow out of politics why the jealous Italians should hate their handsome conquerers. Mr. Jarves must have felt happy when he had finished the whole of this deseription, which occupies fourteen pages. Within that space he has insulted the Britisher, landed the Yankees, gratified his love for tawdry display. complimented the agents of despotism, and denounced the vices of aristocrats. At Easter the author was at Rome. Here at least his national inquisitiveness has been of great service to his readers. He saw every thing, and took note of everything. Here is his account of the Pope washing the pilgrims' feet:— The squeeze to see the washing of the feet and feeding of the pilgrims is equal to that to hear the " Miserere." Thirteen priests are the selected recipients of this act of Papal hutnility. They are all dresed in loose white gowns, with caps of the same materials on their heads. The ob ject of this custom is to give the Pontiff the opportunity of learning and practising a lesson of humility." The lesson of humility is studied in the following manner: — A throne for the Pope is first placed in the hall, with the until tokens of sovereign rank. A large retinue of nobles and ecclesiastics assist his Holiness. Two hold the Pope's train, a third bears a towel to wash his hands, while two clerics of the chamber aid him in his own ablu tions, after his labours on the pilgrims. The pilgrims. alas priests, are seated un a high bench. Tho right foot, having been previously made most scrupulously clean, is left bare. The Pope changes his uniform for a less splendid one, and, after being duly incensed, a fine cloth, trimmed with lace, is tied upon him. Attended by his master of ceremonies and deacons, he humbly proceeds to the washing A sub•deacun lifts the foot ; the Pontiff kneels, and sprinkles it with water from a silver basin. He then rubs it with the laced cloth, kisses it, and goes on to the next. A nosegay and towel, and a gold and silver medal. are given to each pilgrim. This lesson of humility lasts about two minutes. We pref►r Mr. Jarves's chapter upon Venice to any other portion of his work. He here displays a warm imagination and a ready sytn pithy will] what is great and noble, however at variance with his own prejudices. The follow ing passages are written with great power:— All is not lost, however. The architecture retains a pot , Lion of its adamantine hues, which time and the restorer still respect. Jasper, porphyry, serpentine, those precious stones which Venetians, in their love for their city and feeling for the beautiful, so lavishly wrought into their palaces and churches in harmonious combinations and deep meaning, still faintly throw their shadows over the waters, which lovingly give back their hues. Changed though the outer form may be, and weakened the force of man's works, yet the same warm sun, as it sinks behind the far off hills, bathes dome and tower in trembling purple mist, lighting up with golden brightness sea and sky, while soft, vapoury, variegated clouds. warm and tender, brilliant with nature's loveliest hues, arch the heavens in almost imper ceptible gradation from their sinking source of beauty in the west. Toward this the eye wanders in an terial per spective, deeper and deeper into space, and flailing no end save as night slowly shrouds the glories that fo'low the son iu its course to ulad.len other hearts. Nearer by, and lower down, the long reaches of the great canals let the eye into shorter perspectives; shadowed watet and palace re flecting; soft streams of hazy, twinkling brightness ; deep, luminous shadows, a mingled horizon of sea and city blend ing into each other, and wrapped in one tender robe of harmonising with the Imes of heaven's painting. Toward the Adriatic, tte long, low line of the Lilo lies like a thread upon the water. Beyond, the setting aim glacces upon white sails that, ghostlike, seem to have no bodies, for the hulls of the vessels are covered by the inter• veiling land. Between the Lido and Venice rise nitinerons sunlit islands, their white walls sparkling in gulden light, heightened by an occasional bit or deep green, trout the few trees that grow thereupon. But what words can re flect that beautiful sheet of water between the Guide-ea ant the Ducal Palace, on which is mirrored all this lovel•l -ness ? He then continues : The snintuer's eve brings with it a goodly company of worshippers, who repose in sensnons delight on its tur face, spell-bound by the enchantment. From many gondolas music steals loving over the waters, caressing and caressed by the zephyr that hears it harmoniously on its wings. The general silence best proclaims the sooth ing romance of the scene Occasionally a chorus of youth ful voices breaks forcibly upon the ear in some well-known Venetian strain, now rising loudly on the still air, then dying away amid the intricacies o: distant canals. Time lights from the Piazza San Marco, iv; night shuts in the scene come out brightly and joyfully ia the distance. Towering far above all other objects, dark, stern, and ma jestic, is the tower of St. Mark's, the noblest beacon•pile SATURDAY, reared by modern man. Below it rise the clustered domes and forest of shafts of the cathedral ; a Christian thought in ()Ilona' form and colour; pi egnant with the spoils of Paganism, written all over with the story of the new revs. latton—the world's creation and man's redemption; eternal and legible as enduring precious material can m. ke them ; the faith of Venice pictured fur all time, and gathered into one fantastic and yet glorious edifice, em blematic in the richness and variety of its decorations of all the races of men, their artistic triumphs and their garnered knowledge, who are yet to come up to the new Jerusalem, and sit in peace within its sanctuary. Who can tread the wavelike mosaic floor of this venerable church, as it rises and falls like the swell of the sea, and not feel that its toundatious are indeed laid upon the sands of the deep ? And he thus dwells on the inspiration of her touching story : Venice existed as a State nearly fourteen hundred years. The common associations with her name are those derivid throng t the poet toil novelist. They are, unfortunately, connected chiefly with her vices and her crimes. We think of Venice and the Bridge of Sighs —wore of her lamp dungeons than her lovely palaces—her tortures than her festivals—her crimes than her piety; while, as we glit:s over her waters, our eyes shuitletingly turn from the bosom of thst canal into which no fishermen was allowed to cast his net from fear that dead men might rise and tell tales. Venice to the popular mind was a vast political inquisition, retnorseless as the grave in her state craft, and in her private lite lull of selfish luxury, treachery, and prostitution. This was not the Venice of medimval ages. Had it been, the spoiler would have laid his hand upon her long before. Her polity nes not a perfect one. It generated weaknesses. Wealth anal pride, as they ever do, cankered her heart. But for a thousand years her bones were seuml, while for centuries her strength wits the bulwark of Christendom. She had character ; a noble and vicious compound, it is true, but the mingled devotion and enterprise that kept her for so long a period in the van of civilisation leavened her whole system with faith and energy. Catholic herself, she resisted the Popes as successfully as she did the Turks. Devout, hut not fanatic, the State, and not the Church, ruled within her borders. Sne was as successful in repelling the interdicts of the Roman pontiffs as in checking the spread of Moharnmedauism. Unlike Spain, the Inquisition took not root in her soil. The tree spirit of commerce could ill brook such a nightmare upon its energies. Liberal and just in her policy, Jew, Greek, and Gentile lived, trafficked, and worshipped in security beneath the shadow of her lion-wtngs. 11'hile all Italy wts convulsed with civil wars and the dissensions of rival families, Venice always presented a firm said united front to her enemies. Without and within she was ever a unity. Nobles and people have loved Venice as no other country has been loved. The individual was merged into the nation. From the time that the first settlers, flying before Al.tric to the mother island of Tercello, saw in the distance the bkv reddened with the fI trues of their late homes on the mainland, until Bontyarte deposed their last do._:e, the Venetians have ever been animated with a fanatic love of country. Patriotism iu them was a passion, narrowed to a selfish policy, which sacrificed citizen or stranger alike to its own end, governed at times wisely, hut often mis directed, until, in contact with stronger selfishness, it fell shivered to the ground like a thing of glass. Altogether this volume is above the average of travellers' tales ; and though, as the realer may see, not free from strung national peculi arities, it displays mind, character, and con siderable style. Memoirs of the Court, Aristocracy, and Diplomacy of Austria. By Dr. E Vehse. Translated from the German by Franz Demn,ler. London: Longmans. THE title of this work (like the heading of a chapter in flousehoN Words) is decidedly the best part of it. It has a stimulating, piquant sound, and the names of such eminent bibliopolists attached to it appear to give to it additional pretensions. We were caught by its advertisement, but not at all by its contents. Before noticing the character of this historical compilation, garnished with flimsy anecdotes of worse than doubtful authenticity, we must say a few words upon its subject. For many reasons Austria is, at the present day, a most int erestiag subject for the political obsei ver It has a memorable history ;it has much present Tamer. Its organisation is re markable ; the physical comfort of its popula tion has been carefully provided for; de utilitarian principle has long been employed in its public departments, and its Execu tive has been one of the most poundal which Europe has ever seen. The force with which it has acted in European affair 4, under extra ordinary changes, is most striking. Nur is it any detraction from its intlueace to say that Austria is only thf name for a conglomeration of States. The strange variety of its com ponent parts, and their adhesiveness to one monarchy, are amongst the reasons why states men and diplomatists pay such attention to