the low cunning of the fox, and exults over it. Since he wanted to ruin or sell Venice, why not do it openly, with the bold ferocity of a Selim I. or a Nadir Shah? Let us not hope and say to ourselves, he was born an Italian, and will one day deliver his mother country. No, he will not! His natural disposition is that of a tyrant, and a tyrant has no country." In 1800 Foscolo brought forth his celebrated "Ultime Lettere di Jacopo Ortis," originally called "Lettere di Due Amanti." They are presumed to be based on an unhappy attachment of the author for a damsel of noble lineage, of Pisa; and the lady herself, who was alive in 1853, admitted that a few lines addressed in the book by Teresa to Jacopo, had really been written by her. But after the commencement the novel assumes, to a certain extent, the colour of Goethe's "Werther," which tinges, however, only the love portion of the story. The great attraction of these remarkable letters consists in their political strictures and their patriotic sentiments, in the living picture of the extraordinary epoch in which they were penned, in the sarcastic exposure of the republican fanatics of the times, in the pungent satire on contemporary society, in the hatred against injustice, oppression, and hypocrisy, and in the lofty, though almost hopeless aspirations towards a higher order of things. The "Letters of Ortis" are as objectionable as. "Werther" in their moral tendency; yet Jacopo has more redeeming points than his German prototype. Teresa is more interesting than Lolotte; and the gloomy and unreasonable murmurs of Jacopo against the dispensations of Providence are less selfish and more generous than the maudlin sentimentality of Werther. In "Werther" the catastrophe is produced by love; whilst Ortis gives way under a tumult of feelings, wishes, and disappoint ment, until he breaks down under their accumulated load. When Ortis, imbued with the doctrines of Paganism, hints at suicide as the only means of escaping from the surrounding misery, the reply he receives from the old man he meets by the fountain, shows that the author's mind had not altogether lost. sight of eternal truth. The language of Ortis is impassioned, but natural, and well suited to the times. If Göethe has written a more dramatic and more artistic story, Foscolo has produced a more philosophical-a profounder work, and one of far higher scope and more extended bearing. During the year 1802 General Bonaparte, having summoned together at Lyons a meeting of Italian deputies to propose a new Constitution for the Cisalpine Republic, Ugo Foscolo was requested by some of the authorities to write an address to the first Consul, with an exposition of the state of the country and the wishes of the people-a most useless proceeding, even had it been carried out, seeing how little Bonaparte attended to the wishes of anyone but himself. But the intended address ("Orazione a Bonaparte"), assumed the shape of a Phillipic, drawing an eloquent picture of the malversations, oppressions, and injuries of every description, which the Italians had suffered at the hands of the French since 1796. Foscolo did not forget Venice, and the following sentences referred to it: "I hear the voice of Italy cry aloud. The shadow of my name still hovered over the sea-girt city, the last legatee of the proud destinies of Rome. Time, the arbiter of events — the policy of powerful nations--and perhaps the vices of its government, overthrew the venerable commonwealth; but future generations will hear, amidst the ruins of its palaces and halls, the plaintive echo repeating the name of Bonaparte." The oration ended by entreating the first Consul to be the saviour of the Italian Republic-the founder of its real, and not nominal independence, from which he would derive more glory than by any mere conquest of arms. It was written in a somewhat pedantic, classical style, and might have been composed by Tacitus. Foscolo spared no one. He was no deceiving or deceived partisan; no eulogist of factious despotism or popular license. He was, in a political sense, a new Cato the Censor-fearless and incorruptible. When the nature of the document transpired, its presentation was stopped, and the "Orazione" was afterwards printed at Milan. It forms an important memorial of the age: and Foscolo proved himself as inexorable as Dante. Such men as he, though not strong enough in troublous times to rule the storm, are most useful in checking violence, in exposing hypocrisy, and in opposing the ever-existing disposition of mankind to follow headlong the designing and the ambitious. Foscolo lived quietly at Milan, for about three years, on his slender literary gains; for though he seems to have received a small income from property in the Ionian Islands, he no doubt spent it all, and more, in providing for the education of a younger brother, and in assisting some members of the family, During this time he studied, he wrote, he gambled, and he made love. When he won at the faro-table, he purchased horses, furnished sumptuous apartments, and gave costly entertainments. When the wheel of fortune turned round, and the last feather from his back was plucked, he sold off all, down to his clothes and his books, and he hid himself in a garret. He was a great admirer of female beauty, and he was always in love, though not always with the same person. Black hair, large eyes, and coral lips had a wondrous influence over the eccentric patriot, and the not always amiable man of letters. In an age and in a land of licensed gallantry, in a city where "free love was by no means unknown, Foscolo's reputation as a successful author appears to have gained him a fair amount of success with women; for he was far from being prepossessing in his personal appearance. He was somewhat below the middle size in person, but active and muscular. His complexion was sandy; his hair thick and of a fiery auburn; his grey eyes were deep set, and had quick, darting glances; his features were irregular; his cheek-bones high; and his lips thick and protruding. Moreover, he wore bushy whiskers, meeting under the chin; and mostly his looks were gloomy, dark, and forbidding, at any rate, towards strangers. It is related that a FrenchInan once observed to him: "Vous etes bien laid, monsieur." "À faire peur," was Foscolo's retort, fixing intently his eyes on the speaker, who prudently held his tongue. On another occasion a foreigner with whom Foscolo was to have breakfasted, pretended not to recognise the poet when the latter arrived at the appointed restaurant's, and greeted him with the flattering words, 86 Oh, I beg your pardon! I did not know you. I thought it was an ourang-outang!" The utterer of this sorry joke paid a full penalty for it, for the indignant author challenged him to a duel, and shattered his knee with a bullet. An Italian army having been formed, and Napoleon having declared war against England in 1805, Foscolo returned to the service, and was appointed captain in the staff of General Teuliè. The Italian forces, under the command of General Pino, were ordered to Boulogne, for the purpose of taking part in the conquest of Great Britain. Whilst the French were contemplating the chalk cliffs of Albion from their camp, Foscolo became acquainted with an English lady, at St. Ömer, and began to study our language and literature, and even to translate Sterne's "Sentimental Journey." Foscolo was not destined to invade England, at least on that occasion; and on the camp at Boulogne being broken up, he received leave of absence, and returned to Milan. There, to revive the study of military science among his countrymen, he published a new and splendid edition, with numerous notes, of the works of Montecuccoli, the celebrated Italian military chief of the seventeenth century. Owing to the high price fixed for the book, which was dedicated to General Caffarelli, the minister of war, few copies were sold at the time; but afterwards, a cheaper edition was brought out, and met with a fair sale. At the same time he wrote his first "Ode-alle Grazie, entitled "Venere," which was one of his minor, but not least elegant poems. him to captivate the eyes, the ears, and the hearts of the youthful auditors. His house was a sort of Lyceum, and when he who was boisterous in conversation met with interlocutors who vociferated as loudly as himself, it was-according to his biographer, Pecchio-like the cave of Eolus. Then, towards evening, he would walk to the theatre, and sit there, like a crouching lion, at the feet of his Omphale, a handsome and witty lady of Brescia. Here it was that he penned what may be considered his masterpiece, the poem entitled, "I Sepolcri." A law had been promulgated, directing all burials to take place without the towns, instead of following the injurious custom of burying the dead under the pavement of the churches. The atmosphere afterwards often became poisoned thus, and it was no uncommon occurrence for persons to faint during prayers. This judicious hygienic measure was injudiciously carried out and tyrannically enforced. No inscriptions were allowed over the tombstones, which were all to be exactly similar, and no visitors were to be admitted to the cemeteries. Foscolo's ardent imagination took fire at what he considered a sacrilege against poetical as well as religious feelings. However, he says himself, After a time, he retired to Brescia, a fine town, situate in a pleasant and healthy country, at the foot of the mountains, and not far from the Lake of Garda. Brescia, best known in our days for its bombardment by Marshal Haynau, has produced more literary men than any other city in Lombardy. Its inhabitants are lively, intelligent, and active, and its young men are fine and hardy, and make excellent soldiers. Foscolo took up his residence in a small countryhouse, a short distance from Brescia. He spent his whole day, from morning till evening, in the study of philosophy and classical poetry, and in composing and revising his own productions. His house was frequented by men of all parties and of all ranks-all admired him, though, probably, all did not like him. Even the clergy, notwithstanding his doubtful reputation, respected him. He pos- Strangling the incense fumes, and kneeled sessed the art of electrifying the minds of youth. His abrupt sentences scattered broadcast, his moral apothegms, which he held forth in a stentorian or a sepulchral voice, the air of power he undoubtedly possessed, enabled Non sempre i sassi sepolcrali ai tempi rendered which lines, according to Campbell's Not in wise times the cemeteries dank Were laid beneath the churches floors, and gorged Till the belieyers shuddered at the stench, in terror. In his short poem, Foscolo, after deprecating the obnoxious law which forbade a name to the grave, turns round and reproaches the Lombard Sardanapalus (Prince Belgiojaso) for revelling in luxury on the banks of the Ticino, squandering his wealth on singers and dancinggirls, whilst leaving without inscription the remains of good Parini. He then proceeds to describe the various rites by which ancient nations honoured the dead, and relates his own impressions when he stood in Santa Croce, the Italian Pantheon, in the presence of the tombs of Macchiavelli, Michael Angelo, and Galileo, and, in a splendid apostrophe, he extols the Tuscan Athens for the care she bestowed on the only remaining glories of Italy-the dust of her mighty dead. Little did he foresee then, that this day he would be brought from far-off England to lie side by side with the gigantic geniuses of his country. At Brescia, also, Foscolo published a version of the first book of Homer, which he dedicated to Vincenzo Monte, his rival, who had already brought out some books of his own translations of the "Iliad." Besides the superiority of our author over Monti as a scholar, he had the advantage of being familiar with modern Greek from his infancy. It is said that Foscolo understood the harmony of Homer's poetry better than any man then living; a rather surprising gift, considering that he possessed not the slightest ear for music, and could not distinguish a tarantella from an operatic overture. He completed his version of the Greek poet, which is, perhaps, the best in the Italian language, whilst that of Monti remains unfinished. Foscolo, until the year 1808, had been allowed to retain the rank and the full pay of a captain in the army, whilst he had unlimited leave, and was permitted to rove whither he listed, and to follow his own avocations. Prince Eugene had great regard for his literary reputation, and, moreover, was not sorry to keep him away, for his turbulent, restless, and irascible nature ren dered him but ill fitted for the strict discipline of military exigencies. In fact, the Prince was wont to say, that the three poets in his army-Foscolo, Gasparénetti, and Ceroni-gave him more trouble than all the other officers. At this period, however, Foscolo was placed on half-pay, and was appointed to the vacant chair of eloquence at the University of Pavia. Every one in those days was expected to burn incense at the shrine of the Great Jove; and Count Vaccari, his friend, warmly recommended to him to say something laudatory of Napoleon in his inaugural address. Whatever expressions he might use to that effect would no more compromise him than the expressions of humble and obedient service at the end of a letter, constitute a pledge on the part of the writer. Foscolo listened in grim silence. To the promise, if he complied, of the Legion of Honour, he coldly replied, "It is better to deserve a decoration without receiving it, than to receive it without deserving it." Even the entreaties of a beautiful Milanese lady, who was present, were of no avail; and for once soft accents and lustrous black eyes, usually so influential with him, were quite powerless. The new professor took for the subject of his introductory lecture, the origin and objects of literature. He went through a vast field of metaphysical speculation and science, discussing the origin of words and speech, the progress of early society, the combined effect of the physical laws of the world, and the moral nature of man, the corruption of eloquence by the thetoricians, and the necessity of freeing literature from the trammels of grammarians and sophists. When he came to discant on the noble office and sacred duties of literature, the orator rose to the loftiest key of eloquence. In his peroration, he recommended his auditors, "to study the lives of Dante, Macchiavelli, Galileo, and Tasso, to learn from the history of those illustrious men, how they kept alive the sacred fire of genius, through persecutions, torments, and exile, in the depth of dungeons, and in the midst of domestic poverty, to bend over their tombs, to inquire how they became both great and unfortunate, and how they were supported, in their trials, by their love of country, of fame, and truth, so as to enable them to bequeath to posterity the rich legacy of their works and the benefit of their example." Not a word about prince, emperor, or government. Whether it be owing to his stubborn love of freedom, or to the boldness of his speculative theories, it is certain that after he had delivered two more lectures, the chair of eloquence was suppressed at Pavia, and soon after also at Bologna and at Padua. Napoleon probably feared the effects of national eloquence on the Italian youth. We find soon after this, Foscolo, in a letter without date, apparently addressed to one of the ministers at Milan, complaining of the financial loss entailed upon him by the abolition of his professorial chair; previous to his last appointment, he having been in receipt of 6000 francs a year, and sundry gifts besides. Now not only had he spent his ready cash in securing the lease of a house at Pavia, and in other matters necessary to his position, but he had incurred debts which he did not know how to meet; a not uncommon position with him, by the way. The trifling compensation that had been made to him, had scarcely been enough to defray the cost of his black suits, and he was compelled to ask some pecuniary assistance, to be enabled at least to satisfy his creditors. Whether this appeal met with any response we are unable to say. Foscolo for a time retired to Borgo Vico, a delightful retreat near the Lake of Como, where he enjoyed Not By "Salamini" the author meant the natives of Salamis, who followed Ajax to Troy; by "Salamini," a portion of the audience understood, or chose to understand the diminutive of Salame, the Italian for sausage, and a slang term for a low fellow. only "Ajace" was damned, but his enemies discovered that Agamemnon was but another name for Napoleon; and Ajax, who could not obtain the arms of Achilles, was in reality General Moreau. The supposition was absurd, but it was sufficient to cause much annoyance to the poet, who thereupon left Milan, and proceeded to Florence. In that city he completed his two remaining odes, "Alle Grazie ;" and also he finished and published his translation of Sterne's "Sentimental Journey." This work is characterised by a perfect ease and freedom of style, by the great fidelity with which every thought and allusion is rendered, and by the happy conversion of the quaint, satirical playfulness of |