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638 &t)e lit aftCY* [Saturday,
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IIOI'K. Long years ago, when light was f...
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tfjrt &rta. ?
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Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software. The text has not been manually corrected and should not be relied on to be an accurate representation of the item.
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Sketches From Life. By Harriet Martineat...
vided for from the building of the barn . One day there was the washing ; and four times a-week she was baking oat bread from six in the morning till noon , as the oven and the grate were not large enough to accomplish more in a batch . It was all she could do to bake enough before-dinner for two days' consumption . At half-past seven the whole band of men had their breakfast ; huge bowls of porridge , milk , and bread in various forms . At ten , large baskets were filled with luncheon—bread and cheese , and bottles of beer—which were sent out to the men . At noon all came in to dinner .
and a prodigious dinner it always was , to meet their prodigious appetites . At two , the afternoon lunch , like that of the morning , was sent out to them . At four , they came in to tea , which was a substantial meal . And at seven , there was a supper , very like the dinner . Besides this , the men were always dropping in to light their pipes , to beg a mug of beer , or to give Rosa something or other to do ; so that , as her father said , her business seemed to be never ending . After supper she sat down to mend stockings or other clothes ; but she did not get on very well , for it was difficult to keep awake . Her
father chose to be present at that hour , whenever it was possible , and it was his time for reading the newspaper , whenever he had the chance of seeing one . The rustle of the paper , and the whisper of his lips as he read , were the only sounds heard , except when Tom was snoring with his head on the table . The labourers sat on their benches , kicking or pinching one another , when in danger of tumbling off . One and another stumbled away to bed ; but some were always left on the watch for the old farmer ' s exit , in hopes of a little fun to finish the day with . Sometimes they got it , and sometimes not . Now and then Rosa would make a clearance , and hurry her father away , and then sit down again for a gossip , or even condescend to a little romping ,
if it was without too much noise . More beer would be drawn , a little of which would be spirted into somebody ' s face . Some one would ask when the dancing-master was coming his rounds , and then they would stand up to practise , grimacing curiously in the attempt to tread softly with their heavy clogs . One time with another the stockings got mended ; and Rosa ' s father might fairly ask his old brother whether any young woman could do more than Rosa did . Her uncle smiled , and said so valuable a } r oung woman would be much sought in marriage , even without her fortune ; but he found he must not touch on that subject . Her father shook his head more dolefully than ever , and said he could not hear anything of that sort ; he could never part with Rosa .
The uncle , who knew something of life , suspected that this had £ one too far . Rosa ' s pertness and disrespect in speaking' of her father , and a certain gloom and hurry in her face and manner , which struck him this evening , suggested that there might be an attachment . She was six-ami-twenty ; she was probably courted ; and she might well be tired of the toils for which her father praised her so proudly . Her uncle determined to watch , during the few days of his visit ; The first business was to see the new barn . It was a most solid , satisfactory edifice , —built as if to stand a thousand years . ( To be continued . )
Sketches From Life. By Harriet Martineat...
AT THE OPERA . I want to say a word to you about a new publication , a volume of mystic thought , set forth in twelve designs , bearing this title : Chorea Sancti Viti ; or , Steps in the Journey of Prince Legion . By W . B . Scott . The sight of that volume affected me sfrangely , withdrawing as it did the veil thick-folded over the once beaming countenance of youth , recalling the days of hope , of labour , of intense ambition ;
when the future seemed so plastic to an energetic will ; when Fame , with the far-off sunshine round her brows , beckoned us up the steep ascent of Art , and the mystery of Life was then pressing for an answer which was never to be given—days of pure study , youthful hope , and youthful confidence Some thirteen years were pushed aside , and once more I was sitting beside the grave and highminded Scott , in his low-roofed study , crammed with books , casts , wood-blocks , sketches , and papers . There we spent so many elevating hours ,
14 Talking of lovely things that conquer Death ;" striving to assist the struggling new birth of thought—to become clearer to each other and to ourselves . He was at that period a wood-engraver by profession ; but a poet , a philosopher , and artist by ambition . The wood-blocks gave him bread ; art gave occupation to his soul ; reverie sweetened life ; hope beautified it . He led a lonely life ; but he led it like a noble soul . To see him , to know him , was an influence not to be forgotten . Sad he was ; or should I not say , grave ? Nature
had given him a melancholy soul , which made him incline to the mystic thinkers ; and although by nature I was as strongly repelled from mysticism a- he was attracted to it , yet the force of sympathy , the ever-probing curiosity , the chance that some light might be found there , and , above all , the admiration I felt for him , made me , too , plunge into those waters . I had then the twofold ambition of philosopher and poet . We read together , argued together , told each other all our mngnificent schemes , admired each other with unfeigned sincerity , were certain of each other ' s success !
Among our plans there was one to this effect Scott had conceived a series of designs of the great typical events of life . I was filled with thoughts as he unfolded the scheme to me , and proposed to wiite a poem illustrative of the designs . Our fortunes lay apart . I left England and solaced many long winter nights by the composition of my Life-Journey of Prince Legion . 1 have the fragment still , and read it not a year ago : it is detestable ! When Scott ' s volume came to me
and I saw there the Designs , and read in the Preface a brief allusion to the time when ( hey were composed and read also the doubt whether " the subject proved as genial to me as the opera criticism wherein I now disport myself , " I felt as if the past were suddenly opened , and a voice of wail and of warning sadly called to me , . saying " Is this the goal of so much effort ? is this the crown you strove for ? is this Ihe consummation of those exalted hopes ? "
To read Plotinus , to write tragedies , to plan Prince Legions , to feel your bosom swelling with a divine afflatus , to give up days and nigli ' s to . study and all to arrive at Criticism ! In those days Meditation was a severe delight , and with Leopardi I could have exclaimed—4 < Dolei ^ simo , po . ssente Dominator di \\\' \\ profunda mente ; Terribile ma caro Dnno del ei < : l ; consorte Ai lugubri mili giorni l ' ensier die innan / i a me hi spesso torni . "
Hut now the austere luxury of sustained thought and study must be given up for operas and bad play . s ! Sic transit ! Thus pass away illusions , hopes , ambitions ! The boy . starts impetuous on his career , resolved to be crowned in the Capitol ; midway he discovers that he is bald , commonplace , and gouty . He meant to be a hero ; lie finds himself Mr . Smith . Instead of convulsing the world , be has outraged IMalthns and can ' t \ u \ . y his butcher . Why then should I despond ? What to me are youthful hopes destroyed i * I at least am not , bold , — I am not Mr . Smiili , — I haven ' t grieved the Reverend Mr . Mall bus , — I have no butcher unpaid , and if I write Criticisms instead of lOpies , who shall say that I am not more worthily occupied ? I will heed no remonstrances ; for there is (« iulia Grisi'a image hovering before me , and insisting
that I pay rightful homage to its irresistible beauty . What a woman she is ! I have seen her anytime this last fifteen years play Norma aa nobody can play it ; and on Saturday I went to see her again , and was almost as enraptured as the first time I saw her . In extraordinary beauty of person and carriage she of course surpasses every one else ; her arms are more eloquent than their faces ; her face is as grand and beautiful as that of almost any woman I ever saw . It is this superb person of hers which makes her Norma unapproachable ; she is Norma , and the oftener you see her in it , the more astonished you feel .
Poor little Signora Morra , who made her debut as Adalgisa , was overpowered by the terrible Norma —she was as a straw blown to the corner by the tempest of Grisi ' s passion ; and I cannot tell you whether she was good or indifferent , so completely was she in the shade . Grisi fills the scene . There is no one else on the stage when she is there ! Her singing of Oh nort tremare was as terrific as ever , in mi man alfin tro sei as agonizing , and Qua ) cor tradisti as reproachfully tender . Tamberlik—the only Pollio who makes anything of the part—sang with exquisite feeling ; and in the finale , I am not ashamed to say , they both brought the tears into my eyes .
On Tuesday we had the Prophele for the second time this season . Far be it from me to withdraw my allegiance from such genius as that of Viardot ; but , pursuing my old plan of uttering what I really think , and leaving " consistency" to take care of itself , I must confess that every time I see her in the Pro - phete she pleases me less . At first the effect was beyond expression ; but subequent performances have left me somewhat cold . It will always be regarded as an artistic representation ; but there is something about it which prevents the recurrence of those emotions it at first produced ; probably that something is the disclosure of an
over-elaboration which calls attention to the means instead of fixing it on the end . To use my favourite illustration , Viardot never drops the Mask , but she studiously exhibits herself as masked ; she is always doing something instead of being- it . Grisi here stands in curious contrast . She always employs the same gestures , the same looks , and the same effects : see her once play a part , and you see her always ; yet there is such breadth in her style , such a complete abandonment of her whole being to the character , that it is always effective . One reason of this difference may probably lie in the artistic method of the two actresses : Viardot proceeds by elaboration of details , and these details once known , their production seems mechanical .
In making this remark I must not be supposed to express any doubt of her extraordinary powers . If she is less thrilling when her method is known , the immense influence exercised at first must not be overlooked ; probably the very exaltation of one ' s expectations causes the disappointment ; we expect -so much , that not meeting with it we ieel thwarted . Now , with Mario I did not expect
to be much pleased on Tuesday ; the doubt as to his state of health prevented great exjrectation . Yet he was triumphant . His voice has nearly recovered its resonance and delicacy , and in the grant ! burst of the second act , be was as fine as possible . The great scene of the third act he played more expressively than ever : his face is a book wherein one may read the hurrying emotions of that terrible scene .
TIIALBERG'S FLOIUNBA summoned me on Thursday en grand costume , of criticism to her Majesty ' s Theatre It had been long talked of , and curiosity was stimulated to an unusual pitch . A composer I had never thought him ; the pianoforte works bearing his name being trivialities nothing but his playing could cover . Hut perhaps he knew that ; perhapn he did not care to " throw away" genius upon pianoforte music— 'he . left ; that , to Hee . thoven and the classical
dogs—( juicn Siibe - -who knows ? Let us not prejudge him ; let Florin da be heard . It in a fin < : subject , full of" . situation , " though wanting in th « . simplicity requisite in a grand opera ; but you shall judge , for here in the " plot " a . s reported by oflieial authority :- — " At the moment , when the opera commences , Set til , th (! impregnable fortress that . bars tins entrance of the Moora to Sp . iin , is besieged by their clue . ' . ]\ lunu / . / . a . The ( Jovernor of ttet . ta is Count . Juli « ' »» un old noble of high military fame and of the . sternest honour—the father of Florinda . To corrup t thin holder of the key of Spain in Muduzki ' h « -lii « -f" 1 *<> 1 »«_ » and this he trusts to do by convincing him that ho ' ¦ ill-UHed and neglected by tho young King , J todciu-,
638 &T)E Lit Aftcy* [Saturday,
638 & t ) e lit aftCY * [ Saturday ,
Iioi'k. Long Years Ago, When Light Was F...
IIOI'K . Long years ago , when light was fading fast , Alone I paced the solitary sand , And with tho lessening sail and waning mnst Fled down the sunset to the . morning land . Then wander'd lonely with the wandering light , Through moonlight meadows or by wintering trees , Or stood among the stars on Home dim height , When ( iod was passing by me on the breeze .
Fur off , far off , I Haw tho ( sternal nicies , Far off , far off , I hoard tho angel ' s song ; I saw the . suiiH that set , tho kuuh that rise , Whore opening heuveuH tv > opening heavens belong . I clasp'd my hands , tho tears foil thick an rain , I he ud ghid voices calling me from far , I knew what terror , what majestic pain ,
And what delight in them : wild longings an ; . " I crime from <« od , " 1 said , " to ( Jod I go ; I help to ring the world ' s melodious chime ; I know life ' s loveliest mysteries , and I know Her music and her universal rhyme . " Long hours , loved hours , in quiet dreams I lay , Thro'Sleop ' sbrightair . Ood ' Hdarling , I was borne ; But ah ! I said , those dreams may pass away , I with blank eyes may wake and » eo tho morn . M .
Tfjrt &Rta. ?
tfjrt & rta . ?
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Citation
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Leader (1850-1860), July 5, 1851, page 18, in the Nineteenth-Century Serials Edition (2008; 2018) ncse2.kdl.kcl.ac.uk/periodicals/l/issues/cld_05071851/page/18/
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