The examiner. [volume] (Louisville, Ky.) 1847-1849, 1849-02-17
From the Literary World.
Prologue 40 Lamartine's Forthcoming no.
nance OF "GsaPhael.''

From the Literary World.
Prologue 90 Lsmartine's Forthcoming Ra-
nance OF saPhael."
By the courtesy Of the Messrs. Harper
We have an opportunity of presenting TO
our readers, in advance Of the European
publication, the Prologue to a new work
from the pen of one, the movements of
whose mind have lately been study to the
whole world. Think what We may of his
wisdom aud his political stamina, Lamar
tine by his moderation, no less than his
enthusiasm, has won himself an honorable
position in the worlds affections. The
publication Of a Romance written in his
earlier days, will remind the world in its
melancholy grace, ;" Of that heart of hu.
manity (wisely cultured or the reversed
which beats under the robe of Office. I'm
hardened by the admiration or neglect Of
the people; surviving for ever in its old re
lstionships with mother, wife and child;
fastening its ''hooks Of steel, not on power
or station, but the fast mouldering monu-
ments Of memory and the affections.
PROLOGUE.
The real name Of the friend who wrote
these pages was not Raphael. We often
called him so in sport, because in his boy
hood he much resenbled youthful portrait
Of Raphael, which may be seen in the
Barbenni gallery at Rome, at the Pitu
palace in Florence, and the NJ useum Of the
Louvre. We had given him the name, too,
because the distinctive feature of this youths
character was his lively sense of the Beauti-
lul in nature and art; sense so keen, that
his mind was, 50 to speak, merely the
shadowing forth Of the ideal or material
Beauty scattered throughout the works of
God and Man. This feeling was the result
of his exquisite and almost morbid sensi.
bility--morbid, at least, until time had
somewhat blunted it, We would some
times, in allusion to those who, from their
ardent longings to revisit their country, are
called homesick, say that he was heaven
sick, and he would smile, ard say that we
were right.
This love Of the Beautiful made him
unhappy; in another situat ion it might have
rendered him illustrious> Had he held
pencil, he would have painted the Virgin of
"Foligno;' as a sculr tor. he would have
chiselled the Psyche" OF Canova; had he
known Ihe language in which sounds are
written, he would Fave noted the ethereal
lament Of the sea hfeeze signing among the
6bres Of Italian pines, or the breathing Of
sleeping girl who dreams Of one she will
not name; had be been a poet, he would
have written the address of "Job" to .'Je-
hOyah, the stanzas of "TasSo's Emunia, +"
the Moonlight talk Of "Shakspeare's Romeo
and Juliet, or Byron's portrait of'Haidee. -
lie loved the Good as well as the Beau
tiful, but he loved not virtue for its holiness,
he loved it Tor It's beauty He would have
been aspiring in Imagination, although he
was not ambitious by character. Had he
lived in those ancient republics, where men
attained their fall development through
liberty, as the free unfettered body develops
itself in pure air and open sunshine, be
would have aspired to every summit like
Cesar he would have spoken as Demos
themes, and would have died as Cato. But
his inglorious and obscure destiny confined
him, against his will, in speculative mac.
tion-he had wings TO spread, and no sur.
rounding air to bear them up. He died
young. straining his gaze into the future,
and ardently surveying the space over which
he was never TO travel.
Every one knows the youthful portrait OF
Raphael TO which I have alluded. II rep
resents youth Of sixteen, whose face is
somewhat Psied' BY the rays of Roman
sun, but ON whose cheek still blooms the
soft down Of childhood. A glancing ray
OF Light seems TO play on the velvet Of the