it out of the mechanism of the art, may claim to be regarded in some sort as genius. At least criticism is cognizant of no other phrase by which it can be so aptly described. This instinct-this involuntary grace-this fantastical inspiration, or whatever else it may be called, which enables the dancer to scatter about at will a dazzling variety of surprises, constitutes the artistic charm of Mademoiselle Ferraris. She appears unconscious of the difficulties she subdues, and performs her brilliant feats with an ease that seems to be independent of the physique, and elevates her motions into the region of the ideal. All this is very charming, and sets one speculating upon the mysteries of stage poetry, and wondering what it will lead us to at last. With the further aid of Carlotta Grisi and the Taglionis, and the pencil of Mr. Charles Marshall, whose chaste enthusiasm is visible in everything he does, we need not say that the sorceries of the ballet retain their old influence over the imagination of crowded audiences. THE TOMB OF LADY BLESSINGTON BY MRS. ROMER. σε Εὕδεις, ἀλλ ̓ οὐ σείο λελάσμενοί ἐσμεν ! "Thou sleepest, but we do not forget thee!" IT is too much the way of the world in this our civilized Europe to neglect the receptacles of the dead. Those loved ones even, whose dwellings, while living, were thronged by admiring friends, are deserted when laid in their last narrow home. The breath once gone,-the last sad offices performed,-the funeral pomp over,—and the sepulchre closed, all the requisites of affection and respect appear to have been fulfilled, and the spot that holds the dust once so doted upon, is for ever abandoned ! Witness the damp graves overgrown with rank nettles and thorns, the degraded tombstones, the illegible moss-covered epitaphs of our church-yards! Witness the dreary oblivion of our over-crowded vaults, where the eye of affection has never shed a tear, the hand of friendship never scattered a flower over the mouldering relics they enclose! It is not that the dead are forgotten-it is not that their memory has ceased to be dear and sacred to their surviving friends-but it is that the gay and the worldly-minded shrink from the dark images called forth by the aspect of the grave; they recoil from the idea of familiarizing themselves with the inevitable spot where they must one day lie in "cold obstruction's apathy;" they deem it fond folly to nourish grief by keeping before their eyes that which perpetually reminds them of the loss they have sustained, and thus they fly from the dwellings of the dead, and abandon what was once dearest to them to darkness and the worm. A tenderer and more reverent spirit prevails in the East. There the Cities of the Dead are the constant resort of the living. The tombs of friends and kindred are as carefully tended, as regularly visited as their habitations were while yet they were dwellers upon earth. The grave of a departed relative is a spot censecrated to sweet and solemn recollections, where the followers of Mohammed love to meditate and to pray. In the mausoleum of the Viceroys of Egypt carpets and cushions are spread around the various tombs it contains, and once in every week the wives and daughters of the dead repair thither and pass the greater part of the day in contemplation and self-communion. In the public cemeteries alms are distributed at the graves of the pious; even the winged wanderers of the air find refreshment there, for on each sepulchral stone a small receptacle is hollowed out to collect the dews of heaven, where the birds, as they flutter past, may slake their thirst. On each succeeding Sabbath fresh green branches adorn the headstones, and veiled mourners, seated by them, keep silent watch, in the fond belief that the lifeless of the tomb is conscious of their presence there.* occupant The loftier, purer character of our faith leads us to reject such fancies as gross superstitions; and yet there is something touching in them! We treasure a lock of hair-a glove—a ribbon-a flower, once worn by an absent loved one; why should we not more tenderly treasure the dust that has once been ennobled by enshrining the immortal spirit of a departed friend, nor deem it weakness to watch over those mouldering relics as fondly as though they were still conscious of our care? And surely if the enfranchised spirit is permitted to be cognisant of that which passes upon earth-if, from those blessed abodes whither it has winged its course, a care can be bestowed upon the earthly coil it has thrown off, or upon the creatures of clay who still toil and grovel here below, may we not suppose that it contemplates with pitying complacency the clinging tenderness which binds the hearts of the living to the ashes of the dead, the desperate affection with which we look our last upon the lifeless form which never more can respond to all our love and all our sorrow, and the fond fidelity which leads us to hover round the tomb that has for ever shut it from our view? I love to think that such may be the case; nor can I separate the idea, weak and idle though it may be, that the souls of the departed mourn over the neglect and abandonment of their earthly remains, as the first step towards forgetfulness of their memory. To me, the grave of a friend possesses an attraction which, although tinged with deepest sadness, is wholly distinct from the horror with which the imagination so often invests it. My heart yearns to look upon the last resting-place of those I have loved. I would shelter those sacred spots from the beating rain, screen them from the wintry winds, plant around them the flowers that were once preferred by their unconscious tenants, and inscribe over the entrance of every cemetery the beautiful line of Körner's: "Vergiss die treuen Tödten nicht!" "Forget not the faithful dead." It was in this spirit that, one day during my recent visit to Paris, I escaped from the busy idleness of that gay and ever-bustling city, to make a pilgrimage to the tomb of one whose surpassing qualities The Egyptian Mahommedans believe that for some time after death the body is conscious of its actual state, and of what is passing immediately around it. In this persuasion, mothers will remain days and nights near the graves of their recently buried children, in order that they may not feel terrified at being left alone. of mind, and heart, and person, had endeared her to all who knew her -whose brilliant career had been closed with awful suddenness-and whose lamented death has left a void in the circle over which she presided with such graceful urbanity, which no other can hope to fill. By a strange coincidence, it was precisely on that day, the year before, that she had paid me her farewell visit in London; little did either of us then foresee how and where that visit would be returned by me! The regret of parting was then softened by our mutual conviction that many meetings were in store for us in the new home she had chosen for herself in a foreign land. Alas! before many weeks had elapsed she was suddenly summoned to her eternal home! In the midst of health, and hope, and enjoyment, Death insidiously laid his icy grasp upon her; but so gently was the blow dealt, that neither sigh nor struggle marked her passage from life to immortality; and before her stunned friends could bring themselves to believe that her warm heart had indeed grown cold, the vaults of the Madeleine had received all that was left on earth of the once beautiful and gifted Marguerite Blessington. But not to remain there. A tomb was constructed for her, far from the crowded cemeteries of the capital, in a spot which she herself would have selected, could her wishes have been consulted. On the confines of the quiet village of Chambourcy, a league beyond St. Germain-en-Laye, a green eminence crowned with luxuriant chestnuttrees, divides the village church-yard from the grounds of the Duke de Gramont. On that breezy height, overlooking the magnificent plain that stretches between St. Germain and Paris, a mausoleum has been erected worthy of containing the mortal remains of her whom genius and talent had delighted to honour "Whom Lawrence painted, and whom Byron sung!" A pyramid composed of large blocks of white stone, and similar in form to the ancient monuments of Egypt, rises from a platform of solid black granite, which has been completely isolated from the surrounding surface by a deep dry moat, whose precipitous slopes are clothed with softest greenest turf. A bronze railing encloses the whole, within which has been planted a broad belt of beautiful evergreens and flowering shrubs; and beyond these the lofty chestnut trees wave in tender gloom," and form a leafy canopy to shelter that lonely tomb from the winds of heaven. Solid, simple, and severe, it combines every requisite in harmony with its solemn destination; no meretricious ornaments, no false sentiment, mar the purity of its design. The genius which devised it has succeeded in cheating the tomb of its horrors, without depriving it of its imposing gravity. The simple portal is surmounted by a plain massive cross of stone, and a door, secured by an open work of bronze, leads into a sepulchral chamber, the key of which had been confided to me. All within breathes the holy calm of eternal repose; no gloom, no mouldering damp, nothing to recall the dreadful images of decay. An atmosphere of peace appears to pervade the place, and I could almost fancy that a voice from the tomb whispered, in the words of Dante's Beatrice : "Io sono in pace! The light of the sun, streaming through a glazed aperture above the door, fell like a ray of heavenly hope upon the symbol of man's re demption-a beautiful copy, in bronze, of Michael Angelo's crucified Saviour which is affixed to the wall facing the entrance. A simple stone sarcophagus is placed on either side of the chamber, each one surmounted by two white marble tablets, encrusted in the sloping walls. That to the left encloses the coffin of Lady Blessington-that to the right is still untenanted; long may it remain so! The affection she most valued, the genius and talent she most admired, have contributed to do honour to the memory of that gifted woman. Her sepulchre is the creation of Alfred d'Orsay, her epitaphs are the composition of Barry Cornwall and Walter Savage Landor. Upon the two tablets placed over her tomb, are inscribed the following tributary lines: "In memory of Marguerite Countess of Blessington, who died on the 4th of June, 1849. In her lifetime she was loved and admired for her many graceful writings, her gentle manners, her kind and generous heart. Men famous for art and science, in distant lands, sought her friendship; and the historians and scholars, the poets, and wits, and painters of her own country, found an unfailing welcome in her ever hospitable home. She gave cheerfully, to all who were in need, help and sympathy, and useful counsel; and she died lamented by many friends. They who loved her best in life, and now lament her most, have reared this tributary marble over her place of rest. "Infra sepultum est "BARRY CORNWALL." Id omne quod sepeliri potest, Benefacta sua celare novit, ingenium non ita. Venit Lutetiam Parisiorum Aprili mense, "WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR." Her last resting-place will not be neglected! The eye of faithful affection watches over it as vigilantly as though the dust that sleeps within were conscious of his care. But lately a sentiment of exquisite tenderness suggested the addition of its most touching and appropriate * embellishment. A gentleman in the County Tipperary had been commissioned to send over to Chambourcy a root of ivy from Lady Blessington's birth-place to plant near her grave. He succeeded in obtaining an off-shoot from the parent stem that grows over the house in which she was born. It has been transplanted to the foot of the railing that surrounds her monument-it has taken root and spreadand thus the same ivy that sheltered her cradle will overshadow her tomb! * R. Bernal Osborne, Esq., M.P. Want of space compels us to omit notices of the following works, "M'Carthy's Poems,' ," "Baxter's Impressions of Central and Southern Europe," "Sir Arthur Bouverie," "Hylton House," "The Rev. Dr. Miley's History of the Papal States," "Capes's Sunday in London," "Sirr's Ceylon and the Cingalese," "Capt. Reid's Rifle Rangers," "Shillinglaw's Narrative of Arctic Discoveries," Curling's Gentlemen-at-Arms." 66 |