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the Trevisano, and therefore had no cession to make; nor was it in a condition to exact anything. The conditions of peace were: 1. That the Lord of Padua should restore Cavarzeto and Maranzano to the republic, and demolish all the forts he had erected on the borders of the lagunes; that the limits between the principality of Padua and the possessions of the signory should be defined by arbitrators; and, finally, that Carrara should cease to pay all the contributions and taxes that had formerly been exacted from him. 2. That with respect to the Patriarch of Aquileia, all things should remain on the footing which they had occupied previous to the war. 3. That the King of Hungary should abandon his pretensions to the island of Pago, in the gulf of Fiume, agree to close his ports against all corsairs, and renounce salt-making on his coasts. For these concessions, the republic agreed to pay seven thousand ducats during several years, for historians differ as to the duration of this tribute. 4. Finally, relative to the Genoese, it was stipulated that both nations should renounce their commerce at the mouth of the Tanais, in order to avoid all subjects of discord; that each party should retain its conquests; that the island of Tenedos should be evacuated by the Venetians, in order to be held by the Count of Savoy, and that its fortifications should be demolished in two years; that at the end of that time its ultimate destination should be fixed, and that the sum of five hundred thousand ducats should be deposited by each party in the hands of the Florentines, as a security for the execution of the terms of the treaty.

When prisoners were exchanged, the Venetians, who had made 7,200, had only 3,380 to return 4,000 had perished in the dungeons of Venice. The Genoese, on the contrary, returned almost all theirs.

This peace put an end to the ravages which Zeno had for some time been inflicting on the Ligurian coast; but it was on the point of being broken by the obstinacy of the Venetian governor of Tenedos, who, not being able to persuade himself that the republic had really and sincerely renounced possession of that island, obstinately refused to give it up to the commissioners of the Count of Savoy. It was necessary to

a price on his head, to send an army to reduce him, to besiege him in form, and at last to admit him to a capitulation. They restored to him all his goods, and indemnified him for his losses. Houses and lands in Candia were assigned to those inhabitants of Tenedos who wished to transport themselves there; to others, who wished to leave the island, and settle at Constantinople, or elsewhere, they paid the value of their personal property. Tenedos was fatal to the Venetians; it had cost them more to surrender it, than it had to capture it. It remained for the government to discharge the debt due to those citizens who had manifested the most devotion to the republic during its dangers.

XXIX. Thirty heads of families were admitted to the great Council. As there can be no purer origin of nobility, I shall mention their names, some of which have since become illustrious. At their head was Giacomo Cavalli, the Veronese general, who during the siege of Chiozza, had commanded the land troops. The others were, Marco Storlado, artisan; Paolo Trivisano, citizen; Giovanni Garzoni; Giacomo Candolmiere, merchant; Marco Urso, artisan; Francisco Girardo, citizen; Marco Cicogna, apothecary; Antonio Arduino, wine merchant; Raffaini di Carresini, grand chancellor; Marco Paschaligo, citizen; Nicolo Paulo; Pietro Zeukary, grocer; Giacomo Trivisano, citizen; Nicolo Longo, artisan; Giovanni Negro, grocer; Andrea Vendramini, banker; Giovanni Arduino; Nicolo Tagliapietra, artisan; Giacomo Pizzamani, Candiote noble; Nicolo Garzoni; Pietro Penzino, artisan; Giorgio Calerge, Candiote noble; Nicolo Reynieri, artisan; Bartolomo Paruta, furrier; Luigi di Fornese; Pietro Lippomano, citizen; Donato di Porto, artisan; Paolo Nani, grocer; Francisco di Mezzo, artisan; Andrea Zusto, citizen.

When this promotion to the patriciate had been made, there were two descriptions of nobles in Venice. All those who had existed anterior to this decree, formed a class by themselves. Nevertheless, they distinguished among the latter the heroes which, by common consent, ascended to the time of the origin of the republic, and which were known by the name of tribunitian families.

On the 5th of June, 1382, Venice lost menace him, to treat him as a rebel, to put | Andrea Contarini, who died, exhausted by

age and by the fatigues of a long campaign by sea, of which he had shared all the perils. He was the first doge over whom a funeral oration was pronounced. Contarini, Pisani, and Zeno had had the good fortune, amid the great calamities of their country, to merit her everlasting gratitude. Ženo alone survived this disastrous war. When the question of giving a successor to Contarini came up, the public voice designated Zeno. His name was repeated and invoked by the people. The conclave of electors was formed. Two candidates were presented,--the one was Zeno, and the other was that Micheli Morosini, who during the war had tripled his fortune by his speculations. The suffrages of the electors were united on the latter. He was proclaimed Doge on the 10th of June, 1382, and reigned only four months.

Such was the "War of Chiozza," in the course of which were displayed all those high qualities for which the Italian race has long been renowned. The patriotism exhibited by the Venetians may be advantageously compared with that of the Athenians during the invasion of the Persians, though its consequences were less important to mankind, there being no comparison between Venice, however great as a commercial state, and however much she exceeded transalpine Europe in civilization, and that Ionic community which bore in its bosom that light which was to ulti

mately illumine the whole earth. Those persons who are continually reading history for the purpose of hunting up proofs of popular ingratitude towards national heroes and deliverers, would do well to read, in the way of corrective, the above chapter from the annals of Venice; for on no occasion has the vice of ingratitude been more signally displayed than in the treatment of Pisani and Zeno. To these men Venice owed her existence. The first, her government disfranchised and imprisoned, because of a disaster that happened as a consequence of its own folly, and restored him to freedom only when impelled so to do by the people's demands. The second may be regarded as the saviour of the republic, and certainly he had the highest merits in every way; yet the oligarchs passed him by, in spite of--perhaps because of his being the choice of the people and the soldiery, and placed the ducal crown on the head of a base miser, who had seen, in the apparent approaching ruin of his country, only the means of increasing his wealth. Had the American people rejected Washington, and conferred the Presidency on some contractor attached to the revolutionary army, they would have acted in the spirit of the aristocratical electors of Venice. The rejection of Zeno, and the promotion of Morosini, may be placed as an offset to the fine of Miltiades and the banishment of Cimon.-TRANSLAC. C. H.

TOR.

THE VENGEANCE OF EROS.

IMITATED FROM THEOCRITUS.

A WOOER very passionate once loved a cruel May—
Her form was fair beyond compare, but bitter was her way;
She hated him that loved her, and was unkind for aye,
Nor did she know how great the god, how perilous his bow,
How bitter are the shafts he sends on her that is his foe.
Whene'er they met, whene'er they spoke, immovable was she,
And gave him not a gleam of hope to soothe his misery.
No smile her proud lip had for him, no pleasant glance her eye;
Her tongue would find no word for him, her hand his hand deny.

But as a forest-dwelling beast far from the hunter flies,
So did she ever treat the wretch: dire scorn was in her eyes;
Her lips were firmly set at him, her face transformed with ire,
And anger paled her haughty brow that used to glow like fire.
Yet even so to look on she was fairer than before,

And by her very haughtiness inflamed her lover more;
Until so great a blaze of love he could no longer bear,
But went before her cruel door and wept his sorrows there,
And kissed the stubborn threshold, and cried in his despair-
"O savage girl and hateful! of no human birth art thou!
Stone-hearted girl, unworthy love! I come before thee now
To offer thee my latest gift-my death-for ne'er again
Would I incense thee, maiden, more, nor give thee any pain.
But whither thou hast sentenced me, I go, for there, they say,
For lovers is forgetfulness, a cure, a common way;
Yet not e'en that, the cure of all, my longing can abate.
I bid these doors of thine farewell, but well I know thy fate.
The rose like thee is beautiful--in time, it fades away;
And beautiful Spring's violet which withers in a day:
The lily is exceeding fair; it falls and wastes anon:

The snow is white; it hardens first, and then is quickly gone;
And lovely is the bloom of youth, but short-lived is its prime.
And thou shalt love as I have loved-'twill surely come-that time,
When thou shalt look within thyself and weep in bitter woe.
But grant me, love, this last request-one kindness now bestow :
When thou hast found me hanging dead before thy portal here,
0 pass not by my wretched corse, but stand and drop a tear,
And loose the cord, and wrap me up in garments of thine own,
And give one kiss, the first and last that e'er I shall have known.
And do not fear to kiss the dead-the dead lips will not move;
I cannot change to life again, though thou shouldst change to love.
And hollow out a tomb for me, my hopeless love to hide;
Nor go away till thou three times Farewell, my friend,' hast cried.
And if thou wilt, say also this, 'My friend was good and brave;'
And what I write upon thy wall write thou upon my grave!
'Love slew the man that lieth here; wayfarer pass not by,
But stop and say, A cruel May hath caused him here to lie.""

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The heartless fair came forth at morn, and there her lover hung.
She nothing said, nor wept a tear that he had died so young.
Her careless garments brushed the corse that hung before her path;
The wonted fountain tempted her, she sought the pleasant bath,
And braved the god whom she had spurned; for at that very place,
A marble Cupid tipped the wave high o'er a marble base.
The conscious statue toppled prone; the stream with blood was dyed;
The cruel girl's departing voice came floating on the tide.
Rejoice and triumph, ye that love! The god his wronger slew.
And love, all ye that are beloved! the god will have his due.

CARL BENSON.

LOUIS XIV. AND HIS COURT.

MISS PARDOE is not unknown in the literary world. First making her début as a novelist, then gracefully descending from the realms of romance to lead her readers through the enchanted domains of eastern travel, and now bending over the tomes of history that the silent past may rise in the freshness of present life under the power of her pen, if she has not achieved a permanent renown, at least, like the woman of sacred story, she hath done what she could.

As a novelist, Miss Pardoe's success was below her expectation. As a traveller, she did better, and with the lively powers of observation, the acute perceptions, the nice discrimination and ready wit of her sex, she unfolded to the Christian world more of the hidden mysteries of the social life of Mohammedism, than any writer has done since the days of Mary Wortley Montague. Beyond this, we wish that the series of our praise could be ascending, and that we could add, that as a historian our fair authoress had surpassed all that she had done before. Alas for our gallantry, that we cannot do this. In the scenic splendors of the court of the grand monarque; in the personal descriptions of fair women and brave men who revolved for nearly half a century around the most illustrious throne of Europe; in the gorgeous paraphernalia which attracted the attention of the world, blinding the eyes and stupefying the hearts of Christendom to the rottenness beneath; in the brilliant wit, the cultivated taste, the chivalrous demeanor, the haughty bearing, and the high self-esteem which sunk the nation in the court, and the court, as Louis himself styled it, in himself L'état, c'est moi!--no one can enter with more earnestness and eloquence than does Miss Pardoe. But this is not history. To represent the relations in which man exists and the influences to which he is subject with truth and clearness; to give facts, but to give them with all their attendant circumstances, showing both the causes from which they sprung

and the consequences to which they gave rise; to embrace at one view the field to be explored and to give to each point as well its relation to the whole as its own individual worth; is the great object and scope of historical writing. Endowed with the power of the artist, Miss Pardoe can conceive and paint the character of great men and great periods, but she lacks that soundness of judgment which can detect truth through the clouds of falsehood and prejudice. Ready to perceive and prompt to avail herself of prominent points in the characters she delineates, she yet fails to detect the motives of conduct, and finds in all semblances what seem to her to be the true exponents of the heart. Extensive in her reading without being thorough, quick to perceive facts but tardy in drawing from them correct conclusions, clear in her vision of what men did, but blind to the reasons which prompted them, vivid in her descriptions but misty in her narrative, acute but never deep, learned but never philosophical, Miss Pardoe's history is always biography, and her biography barely the lineaments of a single expression of the character.

The reign of the fourteenth Louis is still the court wonder of the world. Impoverished under the reign of his predecessor, so that its taste, wealth, and arms had become a bye-word in the world; scarcely resuscitating under the regency of Anne of Austria, who, governed by the astute and wily Mazarin, cared little for any glory to her people, save that which should first illustrate the greatness of her own cabal and perpetuate its power; France under the statesmanship of Louis XIV. rose to a summit of renown with a suddenness, a lustre, and an apparently inextinguishable life, unsurpassed in all ancient history, unequalled in all modern time. How far this is to be attributed to the wisdom of the ruler, how far to the energy of the people, must always remain matter of question. So much only is certain, that the measures of Louis XIV., from the time

when, banishing all usurpants of the first power from his councils, after the death of Mazarin, and wielding his sceptre under the government of his own will alone, to the hour when the nation arrived at the acme of its glory, sanctioned and enforced as they were by the energy and loyalty of an undivided public sentiment, contributed directly and constantly to the elevation and glory of his reign, and to the dignity power of his people. We do not propose to consider the philosophy of those measures, nor the results which followed them. A brief sketch of the times of the great king and of the principal events which happened at the French court during his reign, is all we can attempt in the present article.

and

The life of Louis XIV. is easily divided into three epochs. Governed during the first by his mother, during the second by his mistresses, and during the third by Madame de Maintenon, there seems never to have been a time through his whole life, when he was not a passive subject to the whims and caprices, or an earnest believer in the intelligence and policy, of the female sex. He wept with the bitterness of childhood when he first found himself at variance with his mother, though at the time he was nearly arrived at the maturity of manhood. He shut himself within his room, refusing all consolation, and resigning himself to the deepest melancholy, because his passion for Mademoiselle d'Hendecourt had not been returned with equal ardor. Passionately fond of jewels, for the possession of which he deemed no sacrifice too great, he submitted almost without a word to be defrauded of a crown of diamonds, lest the honor of a favorite mistress should be compromised in the robbery. And in his old age, when his unbroken will had acquired an iron strength by long years of success, and his haughty spirit would brook neither hindrance nor restraint from his ablest ministers, he daily sought the advice of Madame de Maintenon, listened to her counsels, and transacted no important business except in her presence, and when she was ill, in her bedchamber. It is but justice to his character to add to this, that, strongly bent as were all his predilections for the society, conversation and advice of the gentler sex, there was never a time, when, upon all bu

VOL. II. NO. V. NEW SERIES.

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siness of state, he did not entertain an independent opinion of his own, nor an occasion when he did not openly avow and earnestly enforce it.

Louis XIV. was born on the sixth day of September, 1638. For twenty-two years the beautiful Anne of Austria, his mother, had been the wife of Louis XIII., without issue. For this cause, and from the bitter jealousy with which the King had regarded her successive attachments to Monsieur, his brother, to Richelieu, and above all, to the gay and accomplished Buckingham, during his brief visit at the French court-attachments which seem to have been merely the sentimental flirtations common in that day-there had been no friendly intercourse between them for many years: They lived in separate palaces, held separate courts, and created around themselves separate attachments and interests. On the evening of the 5th of December, 1637, while returning from a visit to his old favorite, Mademoiselle de la Fayette, who had recently retired to a convent and assumed the name of sister Angelica, being overtaken by a sudden storm, Louis XIII. ordered his coachman to drive to the Louvre, where he immediately ushered himself into the presence of the Queen. He was received with undisguised astonishment and gratification, and, from that time until the death of Louis XIII. in 1643, Anne of Austria became alike the wife of the king and the queen of the nation.

The childhood of Louis XIV. was much of it passed in the midst of domestic dissension. The wars of the Fronde, commencing soon after the death of his father, and continuing through many years of the regency of Anne of Austria, desolated the fairest portions of the country. Mazarin, odious to the people from his foreign birth, and still more odious from his sordid avarice and oppressive taxation, attempting to incarcerate those members of parliament who were foremost in refusing to register the edicts of the regent, excited against himself a storm of civil commotion. In the shiftings of that body, vacillating between court influence and popular favor, François de Bachaumont, the epigrammist of the day, remarked in his place, that the parliament was like the schoolboys playing on the Boulevards with slings, (fronde ;)

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