THE QUARANTINE. BY CAPTAIN MEDWIN. Be it known to all travellers that there is, or was, a steam-boat to Civita Vecchia from Marseilles. I had passed the winter there, if winter it can be called, for the myrtle, indigenous to that coast, never loses its flowers, in bud or blossom, and the orange and the citron, and many of the most delicate of the tropical productions were growing in the open air. The carnival was drawing to a close, and I was anxious to reach Rome in time for the offices and ceremonies of the Settimana Santa, -to hear the Miserere in the Sistine Chapel, to receive the Benedicite in the Great Square of St. Peter's, to behold the illumination of that greatest of temples, and the fire-works on St. Angelo. Another cause for my departure was, that I had become tired of green peas, excuse my being so unsentimental as to name them, and, for these reasons, you will think me very confidential, — I embarked on board this steamer for Genoa. - It was the month of April. I basked in the sunshine, and inhaled with delight the genial breeze, as we ran along the shore. The deck was covered with flowers; and it seemed to me that the pilgrim voyage from the Pyræum to Delphi could not have been a more continual fête. And now the dark blue waves of the Mediterranean glittered in the distance, whilst the water, placid as that of a lake, appeared to fly behind the vessel. In front that key to the two seas, the stupendous rock of Gibraltar, presented itself; whilst to the right those of Tetuan and Ronda lifted their aërial summits into the clouds. There is not on the face of the whole world a spot that in sublimity can match with this, uniting, as it does, in one point of view, outlines so varied and picturesque ; exciting emotions so profound, and reviving recollections so heroic. For we behold, on either hand, two continents, where civilization and barbarism meet; two quarters of the globe the most dissimilar, and hostile to, each other. As we rounded the peninsula of Gibraltar the giant mountains of Africa developed themselves, and the last rays of the setting sun gleamed on the old ramparts of Tarifa. Further off could be descried Algesiras and its smiling plains, where was fought the celebrated battle of Rio Salado, in which Don Alfonsc annihilated the innumerable armies of the Moors; where, and at Las Novas di Toledo, was decided the question whether the cross should triumph over the crescent, or all Europe bow to the Mahomedan yoke. But, without here indulging in any further reflections, which, after those of Gibbon, would be trite and superfluous, I will introduce you to one of our party, our "pars maxima rerum.” The lady was of a certain age, which means no age, or any age; one of those old maids who, to the astonishment of foreigners, swarm about the Continent, without either servant or protector, singly, as in this instance, or in twos or threes, in innumerable others. I had fallen in with her more than once during my Swiss tour, and we passed the night together I mean no scandal - in a cowhouse on the Grimsal, the wretched accommodation of its solitary inn having been pre-engaged by a large family; so that our faces, at least, were familiar to each other. Speaking of Switzerland, she had traversed almost every pass on the Alps; slept among the snows, and crossed fissures in the avalanche on a single plank: exploits that obtained for her among the guide the name of the "Cheval Anglaise." Pierre Terraz told me he had once saved her from congelation by the animal magnetism of one of his legs, a strange mode of keeping up the vital heat, and a hint taken from the practice of the brigands of Calabria — vide "Tales of a Traveller." Only think of putting into the same sentence a brigand and a spinster, necessitas non habet leges, without the e. It is an applicable adage; and, I hope, if she sees this mention of hers, she will not be so much offended as Henry Quatre's queen was, when the cotton-spinners at Dijon presented her with a pair des bas-to cover what queens should not be supposed by their subjects ever to have-legs. Mauvaise honte was a feeling to which you may suppose our maiden lady was a stranger. Her height and figure, happily by no means common among our country women, rendered her sex, to outward appearance, extremely problematic; she was scraggy withal; her small sunken eyes, of a sombre hue, were tinged with circles even deeper in colour; and her complexion, either from exposure to the weather, spleen, or excess of bile in the rete mucosum, was about as dark as that of a Chichi, or Anglo-Asiatic. This will not be thought a flattering likeness. All I can say is, that none of our party would have thought the portrait overcharged, or wanting in fidelity; and, if it were, caricature is pardonable in some cases. There are wrongs- Let me keep my temper. Morning had just dawned when Genoa rose out of the sea, and its coast in the distance seemed spotted with luminous points that grew more distinct at every revolution of the wheels, till her palaces, domes, spires, villas, and convents, with the barrier of her fortresses in the horizon, were revealed to sight. She may well be called the Superba; and Alfieri was for once a poet when he thus addressed her : "O, thou who sitt'st in haughtiest majesty, Glassing thyself in the Ligurian sea, And towering from thy curved shores to the sky, In moles and palaces proud, which Italy, Though great and fair, boast not to rival. Why In thought, mind, conduct, somewhat worthier thee?" It was only the beginning of the sonnet that suggested itself to the mind. We were soon doomed to learn the truth of the two last lines of the apostrophe from sad experience. And now the boat entered between the two Moles; gigantic outworks of the time when she was queen of the Mediterranean. I had never visited that magnificent city; and, as Madame de Staël exclaimed with enthusiasm," Demain je m'éveillerai en Rome!" so, as I gazed on the glorious spectacle, I said to myself, " In half an hour I shall be there." I was well acquainted with the convulsive scenes of which that republic had been the arena. The struggles for power of the Adorne and Fregose, its Guelphs and Ghibellines. Here stood the Doria Villa, with its terraces, quarries of marble; its frescos, painted by Perin del Vaga, one of Raphael's most distinguished pupils. To the left I saw the San Pier D'Arena, through which old Andrea fled after the death of his nephew Jiannettino. On the hill to the right was pointed out to me the site of La Inviolata, the palace of his rival, the princely Fieschi. I visited, in thought, the D'Arena, where he sank in all his armour, on crossing a plank to a mutinous galley; and the gate against which was nailed the head of the Brutus of the conspiracy, Verrina. I walked in idea through these streets of marble palaces. The Balbi, Nuova, Novissima, and Carlo Felice, entered the splendid churches of San Lorenzo and San Sirio. Just as I was indulging in all these reveries the harbour-master came on board. I did not acquaint you, as I should have done, that the cholera had broken out at this time in England, and thence extended itself to some of the sea-ports on the south of France. I imagine it is owing to the ravages which the plague has made in Italy, especially at Genoa, that the quarantine laws are there enforced with a rigour unknown in any other part of the world. The first inquiry this officer made was for the list of the passengers, in order to identify it with the passports. We were marshalled on the deck, and of course the vieille demoiselle appeared among us. The lady had the precedence, and our inquisitor, addressing her, "Lassez passer librement, Mademoiselle Pigou et son domestique." "Dove é il domestico?" asked the harbour-master. "I had no servant," said the lady, with embarrassment. "She had no servant!" exclaimed the captain in alarm. She had no servant !" echoed the passengers all, with one breath, in consternation. The servant might well be missing, since he was a mere nominis umbra,—not even his ghost could have been raised,-no servant of her's ever came on board. Either vanity or thoughtlessness had led her to falsify her passport. "The domestico, then, died on the passage," said the officer, trembling lest he should have caught the infection,-" died of the cholera. Produce the servant, or go into quarantine," added he, addressing the captain. It was in vain that we all asserted the truth. Entreaties, threats were of no avail. He ordered that we should immediately be set on shore at the lazaretto, and that the vessel should be moored in the quarantine ground, under the Lanterna. At this moment I no longer wondered at the surprise of Iphigenia. In barbarous times, our ancient virgin would certainly have met with the fate of Arion, without a chance of being saved by a dolphin. As it was, the captain's curses were loud, and our own not less deep, though less vigorously expressed. Behold us, then, landed at the Place of Dolour. The spot chosen for the lazaretto makes it certainly not the most desirable or sanatory of residences. It stands in a swamp below the ramparts, but separated from them first by the general Campo Santo, or cemetery, and nigh by a deep drain, always full of back-water in a state of putrescence, that washes the side of the prison. In front is the beach, whose accumulated shingles have attained such a height as almost to exclude the sea-breeze, and consequently the fetid odours of the ditch have no chance of being neutralized by ventilation. Owing to the arrival of several vessels from the Barbary coast, the lazaretto was so crowded, that only one room was vacant, or rather, perhaps, our intemperate denunciations against the harbour-master had obtained for us as a penance the infliction of one general ward, like that of an hospital. I will endeavour to describe it. The apartment was about sixty feet long by forty wide. It had originally been white-washed; but time, and the mal-properté of its numerous sets of occupants, tobacco and other stains, not mentionable, made it difficult to guess what had been the original dye of the walls,—so that an artist (and there was one among us) might have found any colour that his canvass required. The brick floor had been innocent of water for some generations, and was covered with marks innumerable and indelible, that gave it the appearance of a tortoise's back, or a chess-board, without its regularity. There were three grated windows, of ample size, looking out into a narrow yard, bounded by lofty walls rising high above the roof of the building; and in the court was posted a sentinel who paraded in front, in order to remind the détenus of what they were. You may imagine our despair when we were shown into this barrack. We stared at each other in blank astonishment. But scarcely had we entered when we were visited by an upholsterer, who undertook to fit up our quarters, and soon commenced his operations. By means of wood and canvass, he contrived to cut the room unequally in two with a partition eight feet high, and behind it were ranged some iron bedsteads. Here was to be our dormitory. Outside this screen a salle à manger, as he dignified the place, was furnished with a table and some wooden chairs; whilst one of the corner windows was allotted to the cause of all our woes. Only speaking a few words of Italian, and her French not being very legitimate, Miss Pigou was heard storming at the top of her voice, and in high altercation with the concierge. "Where is my bed-room, Camera?" said the antiquated spinster. "Your bed-room!" replied the keeper with a sneer. "Signora quì," pointing to the corner. "I am not a signora," said the lady,—a “ragazza." "Che," said the man, with the most imperturbable effrontery, "una ragazza-you are all fellow passengers," and, eyeing her with attention, added, "There is no danger." "What a brute!" exclaimed the lady. "Sì," muttered the keeper, "é molto bruta.” "I will appeal to the ambassador," menaced Miss Pigou. "The ambassador has nothing to do with our quarantine laws: I am supreme here," said the man, and immediately turned on his heel. C'était beau cuir. If circumstances will not yield to you, says Lord Bacon, you must yield to circumstances,-so with us. We soon became reconciled to our situation:-we had books, a chess-board, and very agreeable society, composed of French and English. The term fixed for our detention was ten days, and the party promised to be an harmonious one. The restaurateur was a man of great promise. Our antiquated virgin ensconced herself in her corner; and we did not much regret the loss of her company. There is an anecdote told of Hoffman, that perhaps might not have been inapplicable had she joined our mess. Whenever it chanced that at dinner he was placed next to a bas bleu, he would tuck his napkin under his arm, whisk his plate off the table, and go and post himself as far as possible from her, looking wildly out of his little keen eyes, as though he had escaped being bit by an asp. This by the bye. We found the cook a distinguished artiste. He gave us little oysters, almost equal to those of Ostend. They are found imbedded in the rocks, and it must require a most experienced eye to detect them; red mullet en papillote-they proved, at least, if the Genoese are uomini senza fede, their sea is not senza pescé; quails, with their envelope of vine leaves, &c. The champagne and Burgundy were excellent in quality; and, after the cloth was removed, we proposed to pass the evening in recounting to each other our several adventures. THE LOST BATTLE. FROM THE FRENCH OF VICTOR HUGO. On Allah! who will give me back my terrible array ? Oh! they are dead !—their housings brave are trail'd amid their gore; |