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the occupant of a throne, gave a cer- One of my most interesting acquainttain prestige to his name. Maximilian, ances at that period of my life was the crown prince of Bavaria at that time, Count Gonfalonieri, the friend and was the elder brother of Otho, king of companion in prison of Silvio Pellico, Greece, but very far in advance of that who wrote “Le mie Prigione.” We unsuccessful monarch in mental power had left our home in Greece for a few and a high range of thought. He was months one summer, and on board the a man of very pleasant manners, frank steamer which was conveying us from and unassuming ; but I believe we Athens to Venice we met the devoted owed it to the fact that we hailed from patriot, whose name was revered in les lles Britanniques that we had many Italy as that of one who bad suffered a opportunities of conversing with him, martyrdom in the effort to free his befor he was delighted to have a chance loved native land from the Austrian of speaking in English with any one. yoke. The remarkable volume in He knew the language thoroughly, which Silvio Pellico gave an account only, as it happened that the tutor from of his “Prisons" is still, we believe, whom he acquired it was a native of popular at the present day, and its Caledonia “ stern and wild,” he spoke striking records have lately been reit with the strongest possible Scottish produced in a cheap edition ; but at accent, and even made use of broad that time it was most highly appreScotticisms with most ludicrous effect. ciated, and the name of his companion I can never forget the dismay I experi- in captivity at once roused our strong. enced at the first speech he addressed est interest, for we knew all he had to me. Like most young people, I suffered, and the noble endurance and often amused myself with writing self-devotion with which he had fought verses, which were simply worthless, and agonized for that dear Italy to and defied all rules of versification. which had been given dono fatal della This propensity on my part had been beltâ. The strife .was over, the strug. mentioned by some indiscreet friend to gle ended, and he was an old man the prince, and when I was presented when we met him, whose white hair, to him at a court ball he met me with soft as silk, fell round a countenance the astounding remark, “I hear you still strikingly handsome, faded and have been a great poet from your worn as it was, and contrasting with earliest childhood I” I trust he was the sombre darkness of his eyes, where speedily undeceived; but the conver- the fire of enthusiasm still flashed forth sation having begun on this theme, at the slightest allusion to the political gave him the opportunity of talking condition of his native country. The about many of our real poets, with prevailing expression of his fine old whose works he appeared to be well face was, however, that of intense acquainted. Had Maximilian been in sadness; one poignant memory still his brother's place events might have pierced his heart with undying pain, in turned out very differently in Greece, the bitter recollection of that cruel but he was soon called to occupy his moment when, having been at length father's throne in Bavaria. His sub- released from his dungeon, he heard sequent history and that of his family that his idolized young wife had died were deeply sad. His own death re- during the period of his detention, and sulled from what appeared to be a that his jailers had not even had the most trilling accident; and the tragic humanity to apprise him of the fact. fate of bis eldest son and successor, To see her beautiful face light up with who was drowned in the dark lake, joy at his return, to be with her once into which he dragged his best friend again, had been the longing hope that along with him, will not have been alone brightened his dreary captivity, forgotten ; while the son who still lives and all the while she had been lying as titular king is well known to be a wrapped in the dust of death, and hopeless lunatic.

nothing remained to him but the tomb

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widely known for his numismatic stud-
ies, whereby he had made some re-
markable discoveries. His friend,
however, was wholly absorbed in his
devotion to the Orleans family, and
when we parted he asked me whether
I would undertake the task of posting
letters for him in England at frequent
intervals, addressed to his unfortunate
king at Claremont. He said that he
dared not risk its being known in Paris
that he was in correspondence with
the exiled royal family, and I imagine,
from hints he gave me, that he was
cherishing some secret plans on their
behalf. The posting of his letters was
an innocent enough proceeding, and so
I forwarded many missives to the poor
old king till death made his exile from
France hopeless and final.
My poor

stone that recorded the date of her de- | savant, with whom we were intimate. parture long before. I do not think He was a membre de l'Institut, and this cruel remembrance was ever absent from Count Gonfalonieri's mind night or day; but he seldom alluded to his mournful past in conversation with us, though he and I especially became great friends, and I enjoyed his society immensely. The evening before we were to land at Venice he came to me when I happened to be alone on deck, and after ascertaining that no one was within hearing he asked me if I would grant him a little favor. I was ready to do anything I could for the gentle, courteous old man, and begged him to tell me how I could serve him. Then he said, lowering his voice to a whisper, that he had certain compromising political documents with him which, if discovered by the custom-house officials, would consign him back to prison, and might even friend himself died soon after, a disendanger his life. He was a marked appointed and heartbroken man. man under suspicion, and everything he possessed would be carefully examined; but the luggage of a young English girl travelling simply for pleasure with her parents would scarcely be looked at, and even if these incriminat-brought him the honor and glory to ing papers were found among my letters, it would not be supposed they could be there for any revolutionary purposes, would I therefore consent to take charge of them and convey them safely on shore for him? I could restore them to him at the hotel. Of course I consented, and safely accomplished his commission, with no other result but a rather comical look of dismay on my father's kind face when I told him I was assisting in the plot, I sweet-tempered, a first rate musician, believed, of a secret society against the Italian government of the day. I never saw Count Gonfalonieri again after I restored his seditious papers to him, and he did not live long afterwards.

Among our acquaintances while we lived in Athens there was one whose name claims no public recognition, but whose subsequent fate might well have

which a willing and fearless performance of duty in face of certain death amply entitled him. He was a young English officer on leave from his regiment, in good circumstances, and highly connected, with the golden promise of a happy and successful life shining unclouded before him. He lives in my recollection as the very embodiment of light-hearted gaiety and enjoyment of existence. Frank and

and in every way a charming companion, he frequented our house constantly during his stay in the Greek capital, and then passed from the sphere of our knowledge to resume the work of A few years later, when we were his profession; but we heard of him settled in England, I had a somewhat soon again, when the Crimean war was similar mission to perform on behalf of at its height, as one of the six hundred a French gentleman who was a devoted who received the fatal order at Balaadherent of the exiled King Louis clava, which sent them to inevitable Philippe. We had made his acquaint-destruction. With the rest of his noble ance at Constantinople as the compan- comrades he, as Tennyson sang in his ion of Monsieur de Saulcy, a celebrated poem on the heroic action,

Asked not the reason why, man ; but there was nothing whatever
Theirs but to do and die,

in his words or manner to indicate that and, well knowing his doom, galloped he could have been the author of on to tlie field of death. A few hours poems such as that in wbich the verse later, when the desperate charge was occurs, over, he was found wounded in a most

I know not where His islands lift terrible manner, but perfectly calm and

Their fronded palms in air, uncomplaining ; with a great effort he

I only know I cannot drift took from within his tunic a pocket

Beyond His love and care. book containing bank-notes, and gave it to the officer bending over him, mur- He seemed to me a man devoted to muring, For the poor," and so ex- society, and especially to that which pired without another word.

was to be found in the ranks of the

upper ten thousand ; but perhaps I did The celebrities whom I came across not know him well enough to judge him after our return to England were for fairly. the most part men who had won their It was otherwise as regards Longfellaurels in literature. At the very first low, with whom I had a much shorter dinner-party to which I went I sat next acquaintance, but who impressed me as to a gentleman whose conversation was a man whose ardent spirit was on fire strikingly brilliant and witty ; I was with thoughts and feelings that had told that he was William Aytoun, who little enough to do with this workaday had written “ Lays of the Scottish Cav- world, and who was already soaring in aliers," and many other poems. I had imagination through those unknown read these with much enjoyment, and spheres to which he passed in reality soon found an opportunity of telling very soon after by the gates of death. him how greatly I admired them. He So it was also in the case of Turgenev, received my complimentary remarks in the Russian novelist, with whom I had silence, and then made a speech, with a long conversation only a very short the quaintest solemnity, which I found time before he was taken from this it rather difficult to answer. " It is world. He was a very picturesquevery fortunate for me," he said, “that looking man, with long, grey hair floatI can write verses; it is my only ing round his keen, intellectual face. chance of winning favor, because I am I was charmed with him, he was so so excessively ugly.” Involuntarily I gentle and sympathetic, and made no turned to look at him, critically, for the secret of the fact that he loved Enfirst time, and saw that he had stated gland and the English for qualities and an undoubted fact. His homely face, conditions of existence which he could with its large, rugged features, was not hope to find in the wide expanse of certainly such as he had described it; his native country. but his eyes were bright with lurking laughter, and his expression was so

Within the last few years so many amiable and kindly that no one would admirable accounts of what is called have thought of describing him with the Oxford Movement have been given the severity he had dealt to himself. I to the world that the subject has been met him often afterwards, and found exhausted to a degree which would him not only amusing and interesting render any reminiscence of the chief in conversation, but an admirable lit- actors therein superfluous and unwelerary critic, who gave me terse and come. I will therefore only briefly clear accounts of many books of the mention some of the notable actors in day.

it whom I saw. I heard Cardinal NewAnother poet with whom I spent a man preach the sermon which was his few days in a country-house was Wal- only public utterance in Oxford after ter Savage Landor. I found him a his secession to the Church of Rome. very courteous, agreeable old gentle. That startling step had been taken

can

never

many years before, and he had become in a lifetime. I said this to Canon old and worn, aud had a trying cough Liddon, and he answered: “It is so, which often interrupted his words ; and I know that I shall not live to but nevertheless he seized the oppor- finish it.” He proved right in this tunity to deliver in his old home a convictiou ; and it is thought that his highly controversial discourse, in which arduous task, much too exhausting for the claims of St. Peter, as he under his delicate state of healtlı, hastened stood them, were set forth with un- the end of his valuable life. With compromising vehemence. His voice these more recent celebrities my recwas never heard again in the city ords must close. which had loved him so well after that day. I heard Dr. Pusey preach sev- It seems strange to think that all eral times, but one of his sermons was those of whom I have written — who so characteristic of the man that I re- are still such vivid personalities to me member it with especial clearness ; he - should in truth have passed beyond began it in these words : “ My brethren, all human sight and knowledge ; but let us go down alive into the pit ;” and happily those memories thither indeed we did go, conducted by really die which are brightened with him with a minuteness of detail and a the fair lustre of noble qualities and descriptive realism which made a for- brilliant genius. eign lady who accompanied me declare emphatically that he must have visited the locality himself. A sermon by the gentle and poetic John Keble has left

From The Nineteenth Century. very little trace on my mind ; but it is

COLOR-MUSIC.1 otherwise with many eloquent addresses by which Henry Parry Liddon could THERE are many considerations that hold the attention of his hearers en- lend some plausibility to the fancy that chained during periods of unusual future times may see the birth of a length. The last time I saw him, I new art that shall appeal to the emohad an opportunity of estimating the tions through color alone, in the same herculean labor he had undertaken in way that music makes its appeal writing the “Life” of Dr. Pusey. At through sound. It is true that no the time when the unattached students mechanism, no instrument at present were admitted to Oxford, Dr. Pusey exists that can pass before our eyes strongly objected to the innovation, and notes and chords of color such as music he came to see me on the subject, as sends to our ears, nor, if this were be thought I could give him some possible, could our feelings at present information bearing upon it. Canon correspond to them, or give them Liddon wished to have a record of that meaning ; neither has the color-comconversation, and I sat with him in his poser yet come forward who can reveal room, where he took it down in writing. to us a new mode of expression, who Before I left him he said he should like can appeal to our emotions through a to show me the material which had fresh medium, perhaps with a delicacy been placed in his hands for the and keenness of sensation unknown “ Life." He took me up to a room in before. Christ Church, which was filled from Color seenis to have every element end to end with letters, papers, and necessary for exciting feelings as deep pamphlets of every description; they and as sympathetic as any that music were heaped in shelves on the walls, calls forth, if only the appeal can be they covered the floor, and there was made and understood. scarcely room to stand without tread- Already in some measure there is an ing ou them. They seemed to me to indicate an appalling amount of work, article was sent to me so long ago as April, 1893. — association of ideas with colors, as in from tint to tint could be incomparably the gay effect of bright hues and the more gradual and delicate than the sombre influence of dark; and the ex- change from note to note. But how perience of a sunset is witness to the far it would be possible or desirable to influence that color can exert, and the have scales of color, starting from difdepth of feeling it is capable of stimu- ferent points and with intervals belating

A SUGGESTION OF A NEW ART.

1 It is only fair to the author to state that this such as could hardly be accomplished Ed. Nineteenth Century.

tween the tints or colors, dependent on Is it possible to create an art that certain proportions between their reshall appeal to us in a kindred way to spective vibrations, I am not prepared music, and to educate our perceptions to guess. so that we may appreciate the melody One element of sound-music is cerand harmony of color as we now ap- tainly essential to color-music (if the preciate the melody and harmony of words may for clearness' sake be alsound ?

lowed), and that is the movement. In The analogy of color to sound is one a picture or in decoration, we can get a consideration that may lead us to think single chord of color, a pleasing combithat we can perhaps answer yes. nation enough in its way, but some

Objectively, and as a matter of phys- thing, it seems to me, incomparably ical science, the two are so far alike feebler than a moving, changing comthat both are wave motions, though of bination ; just as melody or barmony different kinds; the pitch of a sound is far more potent in its appeals to and the color of a light are both de- our emotions than the reiteration of a pendent on the number of vibrations ; single chord. It is this movement and violet light and high notes result from change that would constitute the new frequent vibrations ; red light and low art, if such there is to be, and if this notes from comparatively few vibra- be not possible or artistic, then colortions, and probably, though not of music cannot be, though much more necessity, they would arouse similar than this needed in conjunction with sensations. The thunder of a storm it. might conceivably be represented by At present no such use is made of low notes and red color, the lightning color as in music is made of sound ; in by high notes and violet light.

a picture, however important the colThe range of audible sound com- oring may be, it is subordinate, the prises about eleven octaves, the range picture is possible without it, aud of musical sound about seven; the monochromatic reproductions give in range of visible light is less than one considerable measure the idea of the octave ; the range of artistic color may, picture. But in music the sound is perhaps, be less, as is the case with essential, the art is impossible without sound; but the seemingly narrow lim- it; for though a musician can appreits of color to less than one octave is ciate a composition by reading the more verbal than real, for if we con- score, yet the real basis is the sound sider that the limits of musical sound that the musical symbols call to mind. lie between forty and four thousand But there seems every reason for vibrations in a second, while the limits thinking that color is capable, not only of visible light lie between four hun. of exciting our emotions, but of suggestdred and sixty millions of millions and ing ideas. Some attention has been paid six hundred and eighty millions of mil- of late to the association of colors and lions in the same time, it would seem sounds, which would seem to show that probable that a larger number of colors both are capable of stimulating thought, and tints could be appreciated by the and that certain colors arouse the same eye than notes by the ear, and that, ideas as certain sounds. At the Con. therefore, the variation producible by gress of Experimental Psychology in combination of colors is greater than 1892, Professor Gruber gave an account the variation possible by musical com- of such association, which he has been bination into chords, while the change studying for some years, saying that

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