Mr. Hazlitt, the apostle of freedom. in particular, who in his clouded moments has much of his manner, has thus loved to designate him. This is certainly a saving clause, with nothing to disturb its effect but the circumstance of its utter falsity. The philosopher's independence, like his sentiment, was purely a factitious feeling. It was not the healthy, progressive growth of reason, but the forced production of sophistry. It could stoop to be the slave of the most effeminate, demoralizing vices, and-to adopt a sportsman's phrase-was begot by Irritability out of Selfishness and Egotism. Far different is the nature of the true apostle of liberty. The materials of his magnanimity originate with himself; they are beams reflected from the sunny purity of his own heart, and are mixed up with, and give a tone and coloring to, his most To be the true astrifling actions. serter of public freedom, the man himself must be free. No unworthy suspicions, no rash misanthropy, no prurient fancies, no truckling to sensuality, simply because it is clothed in the borrowed robes of sentiment,' TO A LADY, ON THE DEATH OF HER SON.* BY BERNARD BARTON. THE world, the heartless world, may deem What soothing thoughts must yield relief, But lightly of a loss like thine, And think it a romantic dream For such an one in grief to pine: The object of its love and care. For was he not, though on him fell A cloud that wrapt his soul in night, That could thy heart to earth unite? By helplessness but made more dear; Unwept by Nature's mournful tear. But when the bitterness of grief Hath been allowed its sacred claim, And fan a purer, holier flame! Or effort, love like thine would make? The wants and claims of such a Son: His spirit fled where all is peace! And who may tell how bright the ray Of light and life from Heaven may fall On minds which, in their mortal clay, Seem'd bound in dark Affliction's thrall? The unfortunate subject of these verses had lived, or existed, from childhood to manhood, To some the death of such a sufferer may seem to claim little sympathy. But the heart of a mother is naturally bound up in that of her child, especially an only one; and no common void must be caused by the removal of such an object of years of anxious solicitude. in a state of most pitiable mental and bodily infirmity. 47 ATHENEUM, VOL. 1, 3d series. Think not that He who governs all, Whose power and love no bounds can know, Would one into existence call To suffer helpless, hopeless woe. With humble hope to Him entrust Thy mourn'd one; in strong faith that He Can call forth from his slumbering dust One who on earth seemed vainly given, A form of light to welcome thee cona. THE POPE'S PROMISE. It was St. John's Eve: the summer sun was sinking behind the distant hills, while his last beams glittered on the lofty spires and towers of Marcerata, one of the oldest towns in Italy, and formerly the metropolis of AnThe uncommon beauty of the evening had tempted forth most of its younger inhabitants, who were seen in detached groups along the high road, or in the fields, enjoying the fresh air. The wealthier females rode forth, attended by cavaliers well dressed and gallantly mounted, while the happier peasants were dancing on the level plains without the town, to the merry notes of the pipe and tabor. The streets were deserted, the sounds of labor had ceased, and the voice of joy alone mingled with the chiming of the convent bells, which announced the hour of evening prayer. Yet Pietro Ariano was still hard at work at his stall-Pietro, who was reckoned the best singer and the best dancer in Marcerata, and who was withal, though only a poor shoemaker, as handsome and as well grown a young man as any in the Pope's dominions. Pietro's little domicile stood just without the town, by the road side, and his stall fronted a long low latticed window that commanded a fine view of the adjacent country, and within the shade of which the young follower of St. Crispin was seated, busily plying his awl. His present fit of industry appeared more like an act of imperative duty than choice: his bent brow expressed both impatience and fatigue, and he flung his various implements from side to side with a sullen and dissatisfied air, glancing wistfully from time to time towards the open plains, and muttering imprecations against every fresh party of pleasure that passed his stall. His wife, a lovely dark-eyed young woman, was earnestly engaged in binding the fellow shoe to that which Ariano held half finished in his hand; and she beguiled the lingering hours by singing, in a sweet voice, an old ditty, to amuse the infant that smiled upon her knee; while from under her long dark eyelashes she watched the perturbed countenance of her husband. As the sun gradually declined in the horizon, Pietro's patience sank with it, and before the glorious luminary had totally disappeared, its last remaining spark was utterly extinguished; and, casting down his implements of labor, he exclaimed, in a hasty tone-"Now, by the mass! not another stitch will I set in slipper or shoe to-night were it to please the Pope !-Ha! 'tis a beautiful evening; and the merry tinkling of that guitar has called forth all my dancing wishes, and my legs, in idea, have been in motion for the last two hours. What say you, my pretty little Francesca," he continued, unconsciously assuming a gayer tone, and slapping his wife briskly on the shoulder, will you put your boy to bed, and join with me the merry group yonder?" The young woman shook her head, and looked up into his face with an arch smile-"No, no, Pietro! not till you have performed the promise you made to the handsome young friar last night."-Ariano sullenly resumed his work. "Ay, keep my promise, forsooth, and be repaid by promises for my labor! Oh, these monks are liberal pa trons, who are too spiritual to attend to any temporal wants but their own, To convert neats' leather into shoes and sandals, for their accommodation, is as difficult a task as bringing over so many Turks and heretics to the true faith; and they are more nice to fit withal, than the vainest damsel that ever sported a smart foot and ankle. They live on the general contributions of the public, and take good care to want for nothing that can be obtained by way of extortion. O, 'tis a dainty life!" he continued, plying his awl, in despite of his recent vow, with increasing energy, whilst inveighing against his principal employers, a rich community of Franciscan monks, who belonged to the noble monastery whose august towers formed the leading feature in the beautiful landscape before him, "O, 'tis a dainty life! whose very motto is laziness.' They are the hooded locusts that devour the substance of the land, and receive a patent from the Pope, heaven bless him! to live in idleness. Would that my father had made me a member of this holy community, instead of binding me to his own unprofitable trade !” "If that had been the case, Pietro, I should never have shared your poverty and your labors," said Francesca, with a glance of reproachful tenderness. "Il Diavolo!" exclaimed Pietro, laughing; "you would have been much better off. A monk's mistress, let me tell you, ever carries her head higher than an honest man's wife." “Hush! hush! Pietro, is it right for a Christian man to utter such impious invectives against these holy monks ?" "Now, by all the saints and angels whom they pretend to worship!" returned Ariano, "if I live and flourish, the boy you hold upon your knee shall be one of these sleek hypocrites. Who knows what preferment he may arrive at ? Several bishops have risen from no higher origin. Ha! what say you to that, my little advocate for celibacy? Have I not well provided for your son?" "You are very profane to-night, Pietro, and speak more like a swaggering man-at-arms than a poor artizan. Besides, I am sure the handsome young padre is no hypocrite. I never saw such a bright eye glance from beneath a monk's cowl." "Ha! art thou again thinking of him, Francesca? He is a stranger in Marcerata, but I warrant him a very wolf in lamb's clothing." The color mounted to Francesca's brow, and she called out in a hasty voice-"Stint in thy foolish prate, Pietro! the young friar is even now before us!" Ariano was utterly confounded when he beheld the padre leaning against the stall; and he felt not a doubt that the stranger had heard the whole of his intemperate conversation with his wife: nor was he wrong in his conjecture. The handsome young man, whose noble deportment and graceful figure set off his monastic habit, and whose bright, laughter-loving dark eyes ill accorded with a monk's cowl, had been for some time a silent spectator of the scene. Felix Peretti was highly amused with the abuse that Ariano had so unceremoniously levelled against his holy order, for which he felt little respect himself, and as a child of fortune, from his youth upwards, considered only as a step towards further advancement. "How now, Signor Scarpettáro! is it your ordinary custom to close the labors of the day by abusing your betters? Are the shoes which you promised should be completed for my journey to Loretto, finished?" No," returned Pietro; "they yet want a full hour's work for their completion, and I have just made a vow never to pursue my handicraft by candle-light to please any man. must e'en perform the journey, reverend padre, as many better and holier men have done before you, barefooted." So you "Do you make it a point of conscience, Ariano, to fulfil one promise by breaking another? I cannot commence a long and fatiguing pilgrimage without the aid of the Apostle's fully, and drawing forth a leathern horses. Oblige me in this instance, Pietro, and I will put up a private mass for the repose of your evil temper, and the restoration of that goodly virtue in man, patience!” "As to my temper!" returned the Scarpettaro fiercely, "no one has any right to complain of that but my wife, and if she speaks truly, she will inform you, father, that, when I am not fatigued with working over hours for monks and friars, I am the best tempered fellow in Marcerata." The padre cast a sly glance at the dark eyed Francesca, from beneath his cowl, and something like a provoking smile sat ready to break forth into a hearty laugh, upon his rosy lips. Well, friend Pietro, far be it from me, sworn as I am to peace, to rouse the evil spirit into action. Resist the devil,' says holy writ, and he will flee from you!' But a truce to all further colloquy; I see you are putting the finishing stroke to the disputed articles: tell me how much I stand indebted to you for them?" "You cannot stand my debtor," said Ariano, recovering his good humor, when he found he had completed his job, "till you have tried on the shoes, and then I fancy you will stand in my debt." Father Felix laughed heartily at this sally; and, seating himself carelessly on the edge of the stall, with a very dégagée air, proceeded to draw on the shoes. "By our Lady of Loretto!" said Francesca, who was earnestly watching all his movements, "it were a thousand pities that such a white and well shapen foot should have to contend with the sharp flints and briars." Pietro's brow contracted into a frown, and, turning abruptly to the padre, he asked him how the shoes fitted him? "My feet, much better than the price will my purse. What am I to pay you for them ?" "Three testoons. And the cheapest pair of shoes that ever was made for the money." purse from the folds of his monastic gown, calmly took it by one of the tassels of divers colors by which it was ornamented at each end, and emptied the contents on the board. A few pieces of money rolled, one after the other, on to the stall; and the hollow sound emitted by their coming thus unceremoniously in contact with each other, spoke the very language of poverty. The young friar counted them deliberately over; then, turning to Ariano, without the least embarrassment, explained the state of his finances-" Signor Scarpettáro, in these few pieces of money, you behold all my worldly riches: I want one julio to make up the sum you demand for the shoes, which luckily will give you an opportunity of performing a good work at a very small expense; for, you perceive, I have not wherewithal to satisfy your exorbitant charge." "Exorbitant charge!" reiterated Pietro." Now, by St. Crispin! may I suffer the pains of purgatory if I take one quartrini less. What! after having worked so many hours over my usual time, to be beaten down in the price of the article. Give me the shoes, thou false friar! and pursue thy way barefooted. A monk! and moneyless, quotha. You have doubtless emptied that capacious pouch at some godless debauch, or poured its contents into a wanton's lap." "Now, out upon you for a profligate reprobate, and vile Scarpettáro!” returned the monk. "Do you think it so difficult a task for a priest to keep his vows? Or do you imagine that we cheat our consciences as easily as you do your customers! My purse contains only eight julios; how then can you reasonably expect me to pay you nine? I must, therefore, remain your debtor for the odd coin." "And when do you purpose to pay me?" "When I am Pope," returned Peretti, laughing, "I will pay you both principal and interest." "God save your Holiness!" said "If I wait for my money till Father Felix shook his head thought- Pietro. that period arrives, the debt will still be owing at the day of judgment. Or, stop-I will bequeath it to my children of the tenth generation, to buy them an estate in the moon. A Pope! Young father, you must shroud those roguish eyes under a deeper cowl, and assume a more sanctified visage, and carry a heavier purse withal, before you can hope to obtain the Papal Crown!" "When I stoop, Ariano, to pick up St. Peter's keys, I shall not forget to pay my old debts. So, fare thee well, thou second Thomas à Didimus, and God be with thee, and with thee, pretty Francesca; and may he render the burthen thou bearest in thy arms the blessing and support of thy future years." So saying, he stooped, and, pretending to salute the sleeping infant, contrived to imprint a kiss upon the white band that held him. Francesca blushed all over; and Pietro, bidding his Holiness remember his promise, called Francesca to him, and bade the friar good night. His wife obeyed the summons, but she looked after the handsome Felix till a turning in the road hid him from her sight. Years glided on in their silent course, and the name of the young friar, and his visit to Marcerata, were forgotten by Pietro Ariano and his wife. Poverty, and the increasing cares of a large family, tamed the vivacity of the Scarpettáro's spirits: he no longer led the dance, or joined in the song, but was forced, by hard necessity, to work both by night and day at his trade, to supply his numerous offspring with bread. Francesca's smooth brow was furrowed by the hand of time, and she had long yielded the palm of beauty to other and younger females. Her son, on whom Father Felix had bestowed his blessing, was early dedicated to a monastic life, and had risen, by transcendant abilities, from the rank of under assistant to the sacristan, to be one of the head members of the monastery of St. Francis. The young Antonio possessed ambition, which made him as pire to the highest ecclesiastical honors; but he had no friends among his wealthier brethren, who beheld in the son of the poor Scarpettaro of Marcerata an object of fear and envy. However, he was the pride and delight of his parents, whose poverty he greatly alleviated, but could not wholly remove. One morning, while Pietro was taking the measurement of the smartest little foot in Marcerata, and the pretty village beauty was cautioning him not to make her slippers too large, a sudden exclamation from his wife made him raise his head, as a dignified ecclesiastic entered the house, and demanded if his name were Pietro Ariano? The Scarpettaro answered in the affirmative. Then, you are the man I seek. Pietro Ariano, I command you, in the name of the Pope, the pious and blessed Sixtus the Fifth, to repair instantly to Rome, and attend his pleasure at the palace of the Vatican." Pietro was petrified with terror. The implements he had just been using fell from his nerveless grasp, and his limbs were assailed by a universal shivering fit, as if under the influence of an ague. "Alas!" he exclaimed, "what is the nature of my crime?" "That is best known to your own conscience," returned the stranger. "Then, the Lord have mercy upon me! I am a sinner, and, what is still worse, a dead man! Like Daniel, I am cast into the lion's den, and there is none to deliver me. Ah, wretch Why did I live to witness that I am! this day?" "Oh, Pietro! my unhappy husband!" said Francesca, hiding her face in her garments, and weeping bitterly: "I knew long ago into what trouble your intemperate speeches would bring you. Are you not now convinced of the folly of meddling with matters that did not concern you? Did I not tell you, when you would rail at the holy monks, you were casting yourself upon a two-edged sword? You will be sent to the Inquisition, and burnt for a heretic, and I shall lose you forever!" |