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Croat, will see things at some future time in a different aspect from what they do now. The descendants of the betrayer of his daughter's husband to his enemies, will be the sufferers for the more than royal obstinacy of their predecessor. A salutary change of measures in Austria must unfortunately be a work of time. Come when it may, it will be hailed with pleasure by every friend to the interests of humanity. To that time we should have been inclined to leave this enviable Government, and Francis might have reposed for us in the bliss of his own folly, had he kept within the limits of his authority, until we could hail its arrival; but he has gone out of his limits, and, feeble as our censure of such a potent autocrat must be deemed (would that like the mouse in the fable we could gnaw the net that entraps his people), we shall perform our duty, however insignificant it may be. He honoured the New Monthly * some time ago by his special hatred in a splenetic exclusion of it from his dominions, wherein few can read their own language and very few indeed a foreign tongue; from which it may be gathered that the il est defendu did not arise from a fear of injury from its perusal, so much as from that imbecility which prompts inferior understandings to do things oftentimes from spite or caprice, which a mind of elevated character, equally hostile, would scorn to attempt if it could not effect more. But the act in question might not have been the Emperor's, but the result of the deliberations of that council, with Metternich at its head, which keeps him surrounded by political wisdom and foresight like a halo, that interferes with, insults, and bullies the weaker States of Germany into measures at which their rulers revolt, and is for ever projecting congresses for settling the affairs of nations with which it has no moral or political right to interfere. Be it master or man that advised the present powerless exhibition of spleen, it will lose him ground even among the advocates of arbitrary measures in this country, if we except perhaps his Grace of Buckingham. The injury attempted to be inflicted upon Lord Holland, who cannot fail to feel gratified at such a mark of animosity from the deadly foe of freedom and reason, is of so ridiculous a character in itself that were it not indicative that the spirit which dictated it wanted only the power to go much further, it might be passed over with a smile of utter contempt; but it developes the feeling with which this constitutional nation and the privileges which its subjects once conquered for themselves from their own oppressors, are regarded by the Holy Alliance, and, as such, it is too useful and important to be forgotten.
The three ladies, Bourke, Oxford, and Hutchinson, being travellers on the Continent, might, perhaps, approach the frontiers of the I lapsburgh empire. There might be some danger to the stagnant tranquility of the Austrian dominions, in case they passed the frontier, which remains to be explained, and which it is probable would have been explained had there been the slightest ground to justify it, or had the only facts which could be stated, not been too ludicrous to meet the eyes of the world, thereby exposing the Austrian Government to ridicule. As it stands, we must believe that the ladies in question, either by some joke at the intrigues of Metternich and his hoary gallantries, or a sneer at his arbitrary schemes and eternal congresses, or it
* See New Monthly Magazine in the small print of the number for June 1824 under the head ' Foreign Varieties."
may be at Francis himself, in the hearing of some of his spies, Of a little scandal in their correspondence at the post-offices, (where it is the honourable custom to violate all correspondence for the benefit of the high allied powers,) have caused the gates of the happy empire to be closed upon them. Whatever the real cause may be, the prohibition will shew us the nature of the Austrian Government. It exhibits tons the apprehension and cowardice of an arbitrary ruler with an army of half a million of men, spies innumerable, and a police only one degree removed from the Inquisition itself in severity, when three helpless females can thus arouse its vigilance. Thus the fear that lurks within is made glaring and palpable. Is this mighty prince, this haughty monarch, this holder in Gothic chains of the finest part of Italy, this king of the Romans, surrounded by whiskered hussars, filthy Croats, and most humanized pandours, to be so easily disturbed by two or three of the weaker sex? This is hardly credible; yet if it be not thus, there remains but one alternative how to characterize the act-— that it is the most mean, impotent, contemptible specimen of monarchical malice, that has appeared before society for a long time, even in these days of depreciated regality. That the chief of one of the first nations in Europe should issue such a decree is a proof of paltry spleen and narrow intellect unworthy a country Dogberry. In respect to Lady Morgan, it shews us how much the pen is dreaded by the most sanctified allies. Her writings had been before prohibited in Austria; and the right to prohibit books and their authors from entering his dominions by the sovereign of a Continental state, because they may record' the truth respecting hm, we will not dispute. He is accountable only to God for his actions; and all beings and things in his dominions were made for him, and breathe only by his sufferance! But we, who have different sentiments and a different belief upon this subject, can only learn from similar acts that the contempt so often attempted to be shewn for the truisms that have been published in this country by others, as well as Lady Morgan, respecting the Austrian Government, was all pretended:—that in reality it was cut to the quick; it writhed under the wounds inflicted by the free press, and its magnanimity was all pretended :—that the clank of the grinding chain of the Italian, the exactions and oppressions of the Austrian authorities, from the highest to the lowest, have become heard out of the country which they enslave, and have excited the commiseration of mankind.
Finally, the prohibition of Francis can be of no disadvantage to the objects of his enmity, while it exposes his own infirmity of mind, unless he supposes his royal censure of sufficient importance to cast a shadow over them in society, in which case his imperial majesty is altogether mistaken. The censure of an Emperor of Austria, or that of any sovereign, can only be current in this country, in proportion to its justice, and therefore goes for no more than that of a private individual. As royal favour is often bestowed without regard to talent or virtue, it would be singular, on the other hand, if its enmities were unexceptionable. In the eyes of the English people the present marks of royal resentment are ludicrous, and will tend to raise rather than depress those who come within the sphere of their operation. The ladies who are its object will laugh at the Austrian's expense, and be joined by their fair countrywomen. Lady Morgan, fmding how much more deeply than she expected she has struck home, will not avoid an opportunity of striking again. The noble peer, whose intrepid perseverance in the cause of civil freedom has excited the animosity of the Austrian satrap—the enlightened statesman and personal friend of his own sovereign, and an object of respect with the British people—well knows how to repay with interest this impotent decree;—i>e will know again bow to express sentiments friendly to liberty and inimical to despotism, whether Turkish or Austrian, in the senate of his country, however displeasing they may be to the House of Hapsburgh. Nor will the prohibition of entering the Austrian dominions, which offers sights most disgusting to any free man, turn him aside from his past course of conduct. Every individual with true English feeling will be of opinion he has received one of the highest compliments he can have offered him—the marked displeasure of a despot for the support of rational freedom in his native country.
BEAUTY S vICTORY.
Who hath not bent at Beauty's shrine—
Who hath not bowed to the look divine,
That conquers in love's triumphant war
The hand that may wield the scimitar i—
The frame of steel, and the helmed crest,
The iron heart, and the mail-clad brean,
That are proof to virtue and pity's sigh,
When were they not vanquish'd by Beauty's eye?
This knew the monarch whose power and skill
Upheld the Caliph's dominion still,
Where Cordova 'mid its green Eden lay,
And bask'd in the light of the noontide ray.
The captive ofZehra's witching smile,
He was caught in the snare of her beauty's wile;
Enhived in the cup of the loveliest flower
That ever grew in a southern bower.
Her eye was dark as a moonless sky
When no star gleams forth from its beacon high,
And it gave out piercing light,
Whence its lightning struck the sight.
The Caliph built for his favourite love
A city of comely array;
Rose over its towers grey—
Are bubbling in trie sunny air,
Sparkle and drop like dew;
And trees of the freshest hue;
And its ceilings with gems are starr'd .
Is a basin of adamant hard,
In which a quicksilver fountain plays,
But beauty like cherub infancy,
If pamper'd with too much care,
Good fortune is hard to bear;
Though her waywardness he might see;
To heighten his love's intensity;
That he never might enter there;
His victim, "she did not care,
* Abd&lzamin the Second of Cordova.
LETTERS FROM HOME.
My dear V.—You insist upon my telling you something of the "Eternal City." of which I have now been an inhabitant for some months; but what part of its motley garment, half modern, half antique, to choose for descanting upon, I know not, which has not already been worn threadbare by the countless tourists of all countries, sexes, and calibres, that have rolled hither in unceasing succession for the last ten years. Brooding over this important choice of an unsunned subject, as I strolled down the Corso (the Bond-street of Rome) my attention was caught by the vociferations of a man at the entrance to a kind of cellar under the Fiano palace, who was crying out Entrate 0 Signori, &c. "Walk in, gentlemen, it is going to begin." I entered, and found what I was in search of—an untouched subject to write to you about. On paying twenty-eight centimes (five sous and a half) I found myself at a Roman puppet-show; the smallness of the price of admission made me dread to meet with rather indifferent company, but I was agreeably surprised to perceive that twenty-eight centimes in this un-money-getting country were sufficiently important to keep out the canaille, and I accordingly took my place amongst a decent and respectable assemblage of Roman citizens. The inhabitants of Rome are perhaps the people in Europe who possess the keenest zest for fine and biting satire. Gifted with great clearness of perception, they seize with rapidity the most fine-drawn and remote allusions. Habituated for such a length of time to regard the evils that weigh upon them as inevitable as they arc interminable, they are no longer actuated by feelings of hatred or vengeance towards the Pope or his ministers; they desire not their " taking off," well aware that their places would be filled by successors equally onerous. They therefore confine their malice to laughing heartily at the expense of the magnates of the land, whenever the opportunity is afforded them, by the piquant dialogues between Pasquin and Marforio, or the not less sly and satirical performances of their favourite fantoccini. It is unnecessary to say that it would be hopeless to seek for an indulgence in this way at the regular theatres, all the pieces of which have undergone the clipping criticisms of the censor's scissors. It is only then at the puppet-theatre, where the pieces are improvised, that there is any chance of an indulgence in this their favourite pastime. This grave prefatory explanation was necessary to prevent your laughing at me, when I tell you that I passed a most delicious evening at a representation of the wooden and pigmy comedians of the palace Fiano. These actors are not more than a foot high, and the stage upon which they fret their little hour, is about twelve feet in breadth and four or five in height. What adds wonderfully to the illusion of the scene is, that the same just proportion is observed in the scenery and decorations, which, be it said en passant, are excellent. The doors, windows, archways, &c. are calculated with mathematical nicety to suit the fairy proportions of these 12-inch performers. The favourite personage with the Roman people at present, and whose adventures they never tire in witnessing, is Cassandrino. Cassandrino is a foppish old gentleman of fifty-five or sixty years of age, spruce in his person, brisk in his movements, his grey hairs