pany going out from my windows. I saw then how true it was what Lord Hartigan's valet had saidthe ladies were few, and the gentleman so many, and they all clustering round my mistress, who looked like a queen in her velvet dress and furs, leading Master Harry by the hand, and Lord Frederick walking next her and all his love showing in his eyes. I saw all plain enough now, but I also saw what gave me a shudder. Last of all came two more, my master and Miss Acton. And her wicked eyes were gleaming, and her finger pointing towards my mistress; the master looking so gloomy and stern, and then she stopped and drew out of her pocket the letter. Yes, I saw it was the very letter my mistress had given me. She gave him this to read, and I saw his face contort, and then she drew him on, and I lost sight of them. I made a great vow then to myself that I would not go away if my mistress would accept my humble apology, but that I would stay and circumvent that wicked woman. I have been often and often glad I made that vow on my two bended knees.

Well, the Christmas afternoon got darker ́ and darker, and I fell to wondering they didn't come back, or that Croker didn't come to look for me. To be sure I had snubbed him pretty strong that ere morning, but then that was no reason he was to neglect me who was so soon to be his wedded wife. Well, I sat by the fire that Christmas-day getting crosser and crosser, and lonelier and lonelier, when suddenly I heard a great noise and a sound of crying and screaming, and a something came over me, and I opened the nursery door, and I trembled so I could hardly stand. Shall I ever forget it? Oh, my little darling, my golden-haired little angel! they had killed my sweet child, while I, his faithful nurse, had slept at her post. They carried him in and laid the poor little body on his bed, his beautiful hair all soaked in the water, and his little limbs all drenched and cold.

He never spoke again, my cherub, but lay like a lovely statue. The great doctor from London arrived in the middle of the night-we had telingramhed him; but everything had

been done, and he could do no good. They told me that Lord Frederick had done wonders, plunged into the water, and what not; but what was the good of that? They had not minded the darling child, and he had slipped in to his death. We were up all night, and for many and many a night, with my mistress. Poor little bright-haired Harry lay in his lonely grave long before the poor distracted mother came to her right sense; her punishment had been great, and her ravins awful to hear; her constant cry would be, "Give me my child!" The master was like one distracted; he had doated on the child--but that was as nothing to his love for the poor weak creature who, lying there, in her rambling way told all her story. It was easy to see how she had never done more than listen in her foolish vanity to a handsome gentleman, and his sweet sayins, and that wicked fiend, Miss Acton, had thought to make her own market out of the whole thing. It all came out now, and was as clear as mud. Croker had known the game that was playing all along, and often heard Lord Frederick and Miss Acton laughing at the way they had hoodwinked old Hodges. I didn't mind one bit being called old Hodges, only I did think Croker need not have laughed quite so much as he did-it was no time for levity; but it also comed out in a letter from Lord Frederick himself that Croker had behaved most beautiful, and had discharged his master on the head of the whole thing; and more, as Croker said to me, he couldn't do, for one gentleman is bound in honour to keep the secrets of another gentleman..

We made out, too, Miss Acton's game for Lord Frederick; he wrote the handsomest of letters, and told the whole story out of the face, and how Miss Acton had put him up to everything, thinking she would one day be Mr. Fraser's wife. Oh, it was a horrid business, and a regular conspiracy, to think everything would have gone in the way the wicked woman wished, only for my sweet child's death; and it was beautiful to think that angel saved his own mother from ruin and disgrace.

It was in the middle of the night she came to her senses, and called for

the master; she thought she was dying, and it was moving to hear her begging and praying for forgiveness and pardon, telling him how she had been tempted with false tales of his love being gone away from her, but how she had never, never cared for anyone but him, and had loved him then and always and for ever. Her words sent strength to the loving heart listening to her, and I crept away and had a good cry out by myself. Time takes the sting out of many things, and by degrees it came that we could speak a little of the lost child. By-and-by we had a full nursery, and there was many a golden head among them, but not one like his. Long before that came to pass Croker and I had been quietly married, and being pensioned off handsomely (for, after all, the gentry don't like those about them who knows too much), we set up a shop in the gro

cery and retail way, but we always went for Christmas to my old mistress. She was a fine handsome woman, and lived down her trouble well, and soon the quality came round her again. There were a power of stories set going by Miss Acton, but my Lord Frederick got his people to take her up, and his wife and she were the greatest of friends, and the last thing I heard of the family was that Lord Frederick's eldest son was to be married to Miss Fraser; but all I know is, that in all my troublesand they come to the poor and rich all alike—I never had such a sorrow as losing little Harry. There is a little grave in the old churchyard, and that spot is very dear to me, and in the summer time we often take the children there and tell them about him, and they love his memory dearly, and we all know there is an angel praying for us in Heaven.

IN the UNIVERSITY MAGAZINE for November, 1864, were presented several phases of Venetian life ancient and modern. To it we refer such of our readers as take an interest in the old sea-city, and wish to learn more about her ancient works and ways than can be afforded room in this article.

"Venice Preserved," the "Mer"Merchant of Venice," "Marino Faliero, and the "Two Foscari" have infused a melancholy interest about the old city into the breast of many a British reader. They have been lamenting the decay of the once powerful state, romantic in its annals as in all its belongings. They have bewailed its subjection to a foreign unsympathising power; and now they expect an improvement in the trade of Venice, an amelioration in the condition of all ranks of its people, a return of the old gaiety, and a revival of the drama. Whether the aspirations of our romantic Britons be fulfilled or not remains to be seen. Meantime they

and we must content ourselves with the work quoted below,* which gives a faithful and well drawn picture of the city and its people during the last days of Austrian rule. Mr. Howells discharged official duties under the foreign power, and abode some years in the city, and thus enjoyed advantages over the mere visitor of a few weeks or a few months.

It is a pity to be obliged to resign our early faith in the benevolent fairies, our trust in the endurance of youthful loves and friendships, and in a smaller way, to find that our sympathy for the noble prisoners whom stern power sent across Lord Byron's "Bridge of Sighs" to dread confinement was all sadly wasted. It seems none of the ancient victims to the displeasure of the dread TEN or the dread THREE ever crossed that famous bridge, which was not built till the end of the sixteenth century. It has since served merely as the passage from the court of justice in

the ducal palace for house-breakers, cut-purses, and other low-conditioned culprits to their place of detention on the other side of the little canal. The political offenders were kept in the dungeons under the palace, and instead of the damp or icy cachots with slime covered walls, and slippery reptiles creeping over the clammy floor, Mr. Howells found them "not indeed joyously light nor particularly airy, but their occupants could have suffered no extreme physical discomfort, and the thick wooden casing of the interior of the cells evinced at least the intention of the state, to inflict no wanton horrors of cold or damp."

Notwithstanding the vague terror which the traditions concerning the ancient oligarchy must have left in the public mind, and the mild character of the Austrian government, the Venetians of modern days intensely hated the order of things in which they found themselves. So secret committees took care to inscribe revolutionary sentiments on the walls, and when the authorities attempted to revive popular festivities they disturbed them by discharging petards in St. Mark's Place and other promenades. On one occasion at the performance of a solemn Mass and Te Deum in St. Mark's on the emperor's birthday, a petard was exploded in the middle of the congregation at the elevation of the Host!

An interesting addition to our literature will be a well written account of the political and social state of

Venice under the monarch of its own choice, written by some thoughtful foreigner resident there for a few years. The content, or discontent of the people, the amelioration of trade, or its reverse, the increase or diminution of the comforts of the middle and lower classes, and their relations with their governors, and all contrasted with their counterparts during the Austrian rule, will form a subject of much interest, and naturally induce the curious reader to examine the political scheme under

*

which the Ten, or the Three, or the Great Council kept the people in good order without the aid of a standing army. On this point some curious information was furnished to the English world by the author of "Zeluco" about a hundred years since.

"Many people are surprised that in a government so very jealous of its power as Venice there is no military establishment in the city to support the executive power, and repress strong and popular commotion.

An arbitrary prince is fond of a standing army, and loves to be surrounded by his guards, because he being the permanent fountain of honours and promotion, the army will be naturally much attached to him, and become on all occasions the Venice there is no permanent visible object blind instruments of his pleasure. But at to which the army can attach itself. The Doge would not be allowed the command of the garrison if there was one. State Inquisitors are continually changing, and before one set could gain the affections of the soldiers, another would be chosen. So that government could not be supported, but much more probably be overturned by a numerous garrison being established in Venice. It would not be difficult

The three

for a few rich and powerful nobles to corrupt the garrison, and gain over the commander to any ambitious plan of their own

for the destruction of the constitution.

"There is in reality an effective force to suppress any popular commotion at the command of the Senate and the Council of Ten. This force, besides the Sbirri, consists of a great number of stout fellows

who without any distinguishing dress are kept in the pay of the government, and are also the whole body of the gondoleers, the most hardy and daring of the common Venetians. This body of men are greatly attached to the nobility, from whom they have the most of their employment, and with whom they acquire a certain degree of familiarity by passing great part of their time shut up in boats in their company. Great numbers of these gondoleers are in the service of particular nobles, and there is no doubt that in case of any popular insurrection the whole would take the side of the nobility and senate against the people. In short, they may be considered as a kind of standing militia, ready to rise as soon as the government requires their services.

at the command of that council. There is

These

*

"Lastly, there is the Grand Council itself, which, in case of any violent commotion of the citizens and populace, could be armed directly from the small arsenal within the Ducal palace, and would prove a very formidable force against an unarmed multitude; for the laws of Venice forbid, under pain of death, any citizen to carry firearms, a law which is very exactly executed by the State inquisitors.

"It is almost impossible to conceive that all the different powers above mentioned could be engaged to act in favour of one man or a small combination of men without being detected by the vigilance of the inquisitors or the jealousy of those who were not in the conspiracy. If we suppose a majority of the nobles inclinable to any change in the form of the government, they have no occasion to carry on a secret plot. They may come to the Council Chamber, and dictate whatever alterations they think

proper."

In the days of the Baron Polnitz, the Boswell of all the Continental princes, and nobles, and cities of his day (first half of 18th century), the descendants of the famous 470 were not a whit better employed than they were in 1866 before the white uniforms vacated Venice. That amiable old gossip thus recorded their mode of life:

"The Nobles keep their constant circuits here (St. Mark's Piazza) as it were, and never stir from the Place but to Bed, for they pass their whole time in gambling at the Coffee-Houses, or in the PerukeMakers' shops. The number of their Nobles is not limited, and any body for laying down 100,000 ducats may purchase Nobility. These gentlemen compliment each other with the Title of Excellency, and 'tis what they all challenge from foreigners. Meantime some of these Excellencies go to the Shambles and to the Fish-Market, and carry home their meat or their fish under their Robes; and some are so very poor that they go a begging (in masks however)."

Owing to the large proportion of nobles and the limited bounds of the territory, seldom were the younger brothers of the nobility married. They lived in the paternal palace at free quarters, but the general tone of morality suffered. The Demi Monde of Dumas Fils enjoyed great honour and glory in consequence, and Polnitz

thus witnessed the working of the unhappy system :—

"I have seen Faustina the famous Singer and Stringuetta the noted courtezan come masked upon the square of St. Mark leaning on the shoulders of Noblemen, and every Man paying them as much Obeisance as if they had been Ladies of Great Importance. The same day that they appeared on the Square, there happened to be a skirmish between two Women masked, that were Rivals, who as soon as they knew one another, fell out, went to cuffs, tore off each other's masks, and at last knives were drawn, with which they cut one another so deeply, that one of 'em was left dead upon the spot.”

The taste for witnessing spectacles or taking active part in them has undergone a great change since the beginning of the reign of our George II., when Baron Polnitz was making and remaking his grand tour. St. Mark's Day was one of great festivity and display. After the nine confraternities had conducted the Doge to High Mass and home again, they performed the circuit of the square with images, and rich canopies, whose polls (as the Baron's translator spells the word) were of solid silver.

"The Procession is closed by a Man dressed in a Gown of red Damask, carrying a Poll with a moving Wheel at the end of it, which serves to support a gilt Lion surrounded with Laurel Branches and little Standards of divers Colours. The Lion turns round incessantly, and the man who carries it makes him leap and play a hundred gambols. He is surrounded with a Multitude of People, who cry out 'God bless St. Mark.' After the Proces

sion is over the Maskers go to see the Doge's Table, who entertains the Ambassadors and Senate at Dinner on a table in Form of a Horse-shoe, which is extravagantly adorned with Kickshaws, and Machines made of Starch, which are here called Triumphs. After dinner all assemble on the Square, and what surprised me, and if I may say it, made me laugh, was to see all the maskers fall on their knees at the sound of the Angelus. You would swear every body was in Rapture, yet every thing that goes before and that follows the stroke of the Bell, is not the most

devout."

Another ceremony which mightily

VOL. LXX.—NO. CCCCXX.

47

interested the people, and gave them an excuse for a holiday, was the election of a Doge for the fishermen called Nicoletti, from a church of St. Nicholas in their quarter. The elect, attired in red damask somewhat in the style of Punchinello, was presented to the Doge, and the two personages made speeches at each other. Though fun was mixed up in the business this sham Doge possessed some real power, decided disputes among his own subjects, and looked to the efficient supply of fish to the city. He enjoyed a decent salary and kept his place for life.

No one needs to be informed of the licence, and the splendour, and the enjoyment of the ancient carnival in Venice; but under the Austrians, according to Mr. Howells, "it was dead, and its shabby wretched ghost was a party of facchini (porters), hideously dressed out with masks, and horns, and women's habits, going from shop to shop, droning forth a stupid song, and levying tribute on the shopkeepers.

A like ill-fortune fell on the theatre in the latter days. Few of the houses remained open, and the Venetian ladies would not attend at all. The gentlemen resorted to the pit in order to give a desolate look to the boxes, and Mazzini's friends occasionally let off a bomb for the purpose of creating a sensation.

Very different was the appearance of these places a century and a half earlier though they had nothing but the ordinary framework of plays, dialogue, and bye-play, and all minor matters being left to the ability of the actors to find and develop as the play proceeded. Of course they had also their darling opera, which did not give much pleasure to the Honourable Joseph Addison on the occasion of his visit in 1699.

"The poetry of them (he remarked) is generally as exquisitely ill as the music is good. The arguments are often taken from some celebrated action of the ancient Greeks or Romans, which sometimes looks ridiculous enough, for who can endure to hear one of the rough old Romans squeaking through the mouth of an eunuch?

The opera that was most in vogue during my stay at Venice, was built on the follow ing subject. Cæsar and Scipio are rivals for Cato's daughter. She gives the preference to Cæsar, which is made the occasion of Cato's death. Before he kills him

What a capital incident for a burlesque! In the opera of St. Angela, a wicked king having an evil design on the virtue of a young lady, conveniently (for her) carried in his sash a case knife, which she of course effectively used for her defence.

The Harlequin of Addison's day was a different personage from the dancing, agile performer in our pantomimes. His part "was made up of blunders and absurdities; it was to mistake one name for another; to forget his errands, to stumble against queens, and to run his head against every post that stood in his way. This was all attended with something so comical in the voice and gesture, that no matter how sensible one might be of the folly of the part, he could not help laughing at it."

About the middle of last century and later, there were eight or nine theatres in the city, including the opera-houses, the inhabitants of Venice at the time amounting only to 150,000. The economy of payments was peculiar. You deposited a small sum at the pit-entrance, entered, looked about, and selected your place for the evening. If your choice fell on a pit-seat, you accosted what with some degree of irreverence may be called a pew-opener, and paid her the complement of a pit-seat. She unlocked the seat which till engaged had been fastened to the back of the chair, let it down, and there you were. Behind these scats which were fixed just in rear of the orchestra was an open place the resort of gondoliers and operatives generally, and between the acts, ladies in masks quitted the boxes, and, waited on by their platonic lovers, took turns in this back part of the pit when not crowded. It is to be feared that the mass of the people of Great Britain well need to take lessons in ordinary politeness from the same class on the Continent for another century. They have been our models for several centuries al