The national era. [volume] (Washington [D.C.]) 1847-1860, 1853-02-24
VOL. VII.

are Murillo's delicious Andalusian mother a.
child-miscalled the Madonna and infant =
sus; and the grand and terrible Prometk,v, e
Salvador Rosa y"
In this palace, after her abdication and %,
version to Roman Catholicism, Queen Cb,;i
tina of Sweden, lived and died The roo,a !;
which the royal mad-woman breathed ber Ia.
now forms part of the picture gallery Stard
ing within il, could not feel quite cbeorG,I
and at peace but was troubled as by the ~
ence OF her imperious, stormy, wild. and reel
less spirit
Through the influence of friend who ,,..
with us, we were shown through the nr;va.'
apartments, which are on scale of da9,,,,o
agni6cence-gorgeous beyond descripton :
frescoes marbles, mosaics yelvets damo.L4
Turkish carpets, gold and silver. innumeralI1
luxurious decorations and costly knick .knarI"
Ii may give you an idea of the richness os IT.
apartments, to know that OF the Reoen,;or
Room of the Prince, the hangings of FlorepSOOuu
velvet woven with gold, cost no less than HI,
ty-six thousand dollars.
From this palace we went to the Monas,o.u
of st. Onofrio, where Tasso died. His tonob !,
shown in the chapel marked by a small slab e
white marble, bearing this simple inscription
Torqvdti Tassi Ossd" paw"
Into the cell he occupied, in which a mask
OF his face, taken after death, is Kept no wo-
man is allowed to enter, unless by special o,.
der OF a Cardinal. But we saw the remains of
the great poets favorite oak, and plfered from,
it certain relics as pious pilgrims to the shrinas
Of genius and greatness are bound TO do INV
portion Of which poetic plumber, am sorrv II
say, lost before reaching home. must con.
Tess that have usually little taste for relics I
cannot feel that shall ever need them 10 70.
call scenes of beauty or pleasure TO nv mind
or to touch my heart with the memory of the
noble dead
We beheld the sunset from Mount Janicp-
lum, which commands one Of the grandest and
ioveliest prospects in all Rome Oh. what
scene was that on which we gazed Those
glorious Alban hills were overflowed with sucb
Hoods of radiant coloring, that it seemed the
heavenly fountains of light and beauty must be
exhausted-that never again could such tide.
OF gold and molten amethyst pour upon them
from the munifcent skies and enwrap them
thus from summit to base Beneath ms CLEAN.
ed countless spires and domes. with the siyery
flash of fountains, and golden glimpses of the
ilber: while the vesper ringing of many bells
came hoatng up to us on the still and balmy
air. scene to I'LL painter alike with rapture
and despair-an hour for sweet poetic dream.
ing loving devotion, and purest aspiration At
such times, the religion of the soul and of the
heart chime most tremendously together-then
| dream alike of you and of heaven-of the
home have left and of that to which we all
hope to 60 If the thought of the hungry sea
now rolling between US, sweeps coldly over nv
heart am then consoled. oh inexpressibly, by
gazing upward into the infinite brightness and
remembering that land of eternal reunion,
"where there shall be no more sea-
January 9th.
have just returned from the academia di
Lingue, or Propagandist College, where have
witnessed a very curious sight, and been deeply
interested in listening without comprehendpg
saw there students from all the nations of the
earth, and heard speaking and chanting in
forty different languages. 1t was a strange
Babel-like scene, | assure you, and impressed
me more with the energy, vigilance power
and fostering care of the Church, than any
thing have yet seen.
For some time before the performance COM
menced, was occupied in regarding the faces
of the students, which furnished fine study of
physiOgnomy and national characteristics
There were all shades Of comprehension
the Ethiopian to the INCARCERATION the
American to the Burmese. But when they be-
gan speaking ] became quite absorbed in the
study Of sound saw the visage of the speaker
In his voice, and the strange, uncomprehended
words had power to conjure up for me scenes
of far and unknown lands, beautiful or bar
barrie. In the sweet sonorOus Persian had
most delight. There seemed something in it
luxuriously soft, and dreamily passionate
strange, and mysterious. The Turkish and
Arabic partake Of these indescribable qualities,
and the voices of the speakers in all these ORR
entail languages gave out something wild and
grand in the high tones, while their low tones
were like whisperings of hate or fear or like
Passion murmuring in sleep. The African
tongues are rude, warlike, and barbarc In
sound those of Northern Europe are cold,
strong and rugged while nothing can be more
mellow and tender, and delciously dreamy,
than those of the South.
am writing to you tonight my dear =,
by the light of a lamp, taken not long since
from the ruins of a tomb on the Appian way,
where it had been, tits said, for two thousand
years. How touching is the thought of its ten
der light struggling for while against the
warmth and brightness about the urn of the
beloved dead. What tears may have fallen on
II as the nhourner bore it slowly down the steps
OIL the tomb, to place 1T on its watch Of light.
never use 1t without losing myself in dreamy
oohJectores concerning the dead whose tomb it
once 1eebiy lliumlned. Perhaps that urn held
the ashes OF youthful poet, whose fine, asp-
ring spirit would have famed purely upward
toward ha -
but that it was ever fated to struggle vany
against the chill and heavy atmosphere of an
uncongenial world perhaps those of n Young
girl, whose heart burned itself away in the
weary night of hopeless love; perhaps those Of
a gentle mother, whose life, loving and serene,
filled with cheerful light some happy home
perhaps those OF brave young brother, whose
smile was warmth and brightness battling
away the chill of want and the shadows of
care perhaps those of child, whose sweet
love lit the darkness Of a widows heart for
little space. Ind then was extnguished forever
And so, without end, dream gives birth to
dream, and, more wonderful than Aladdin's
this lamp conjures up by its pale, Pickering
light visions of ancient home-liie, sad and
sweet and seem to hear death-hymns which
were sung and the gushing of tears which fell
TWO Thousand years ago.
This little relic, so mournfully and POLITICALLY
suggestive, is the gift Of Mr.. Crawford, whom
We have the honor to count among American
sculptors, though he is, believe, q native of
dear old Ireland trust may be pardoned
for saying that have found some of my great
est pleasures, of late, in the acquaintance have
formed with him and his lovely wife, and in
the society meet at his house. recognised
as soon as passed his threshold, the genia.l
atmosphere of a true home--breathing hapIi.
ness, refinement and gracious hospitality, and
| have ever met there a cordial and manly
courtesy, and gentle womanly kindness.
+ The society which we meet weekly at this
pleasant house is composed principally of art
lists and their families, and American residents
and tourists, and is always an of uniormal and
truly enjoyable character.
n 4 -..tAE