Page:The Lady's Book Vol. IX.pdf/204

 A LUCUBRATION, &c.

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It was immediately bruited abroad throughout Genoa that the famous Captain Gaston de Foix was that very night to wed the fair daughter of the Podesta; and hearts that sank with dread of sack and slaughter, beat joyously at the glad news. The citizens donned their holiday apparel, the houses shone with light, and the streets echoed with festal music. In the sumptu- ous palace of Spinola every thing breathed an air of princely splendour.

But the lady Julia was not a happy bride; in the very chamber in which she first listened to the voice of love, she sat, pale, sad and motionlets; decked with many a rare and costly gem, she awaited in mournful silence the coming of the bridegroom. She seemed to be looking out upon the bay; it may be she saw it not, for a tear slowly gathered in her large dark eye. Again that unknown cavalier stood before her; howor whence he came she wist not; her heart had in time past beat hurriedly as she heard his voice —now she listened sadly to his low and earnest tones. He urged immediate flight; escape was easy—a well manned galley lay waiting in the bay;—falling at her feet, he besought her with all the eloquence of love, to “shun these hated nuptials.”

With anguish on her fair features, she explained her father’s danger, resisting his persuasive words with a melancholy firmness. “Here,” said she, “we meet no more. Sayest thou I love not?—have this confession if thou wilt: the hour of parting bitterly reveals that my heart has too long and too fondly dwelt on thee.”

As she spoke, a firm and measured tread was heard; the lady shuddered with apprehension—her lover with a mysterious smile fondly clapsed her waist, and seemed madly determined to face the intruder. The Podesta entered; his daughter feared to look upon him as he spoke:

“Thou here, Count de Foix! Truly, thou wooest better for thyself than I for thee. By St. Jude, that wayward one this morning thought naught but ill of


 * thee.”

The lady, who had faintly struggled to disengage herself from her lover's arms, looked up blushing deeply, and murmured, “Art thou Gaston?”

“So men call me, dearest; and, wretched I were, were I not he—for,” added he, archly, “the Count Gaston must needs wed the Podesta’s daughter.”

NS. a, SE A LUCUBRATION,

ON THE SYMPATHIES OF THE MAJOR AND MINOR IN MUSIC, WITH THE PERSONAL AND MORAL PECULI- ARITIES OF WOMAN. BY CLEON.

It was in Germany, the land of fantastic theory, that the whimsical art of classifying characters by chords was first cultivated. It consists in discovering at a glance how far the appearance, manners, and qualities of individuals whom we encounter, may be assimilated to, and represented by the respective sounds of major and minor in music. To reduce to definite rules a system so purely imaginative, can hardly be attempted with success; but to assist the researches of those who may adopt its notions, a few remarks from an old votary of music, and observer of its sympathies with mortal conformation, may not be inapplicable.

The ear may be regarded as the high road to the head and the heart, and the ideas received with the one awaken corresponding emotions in the other. The full major chord, round, swelling, harmonious,

gratifies the sense with a sound to the melody of which nothing is wanting. The minor chord, wild, plaintive, and mysterious, fascinates the imagination by the very incompleteness of its wayward tone. To these musical expressions, the corresponding indi- viduals in human life will be the good-humoured, happy, smiling person, that at once conciliates our good will; and the pensive, romantic character, that attracts our interest and curiosity. To each division appertain peculiar charms or failings, which expe- rience and observation enable us to perceive and classify.

I would fain attempt from womankind,—that con- necting link between the nature of man and of angels, a portraiture of the major and minor variety.

The lady, then, who shall be considered to belong to the first of these classes, is a person of appearance more engaging than striking, and of manners peculiarly retiring and ferninine. Her fair hair is parted over her foreheadslike that of the Madonna; her laughing: large blue eye beams with mingled archness and good humour; the habitual smile of innocence and kindness of heart plays around her lips; and when she speaks, cheerfulness and gentleness are the handmaidens of her words, whether they be addressed in*social affa- bility to her friends, in joyous levity to the gay, in language of encouragement to her dependents, or in that of consolation to the afflicted. Her temper is even, and rarely excited; she is more framed for lasting attachment than addicted to ardent passion. Her virtues are of that sterling quality which are best fitted to adorn and endear the scenes of domestic life. The celestial purity of her soul is reflected in every lineament of her face, and each graceful move- ment of her person is characterised by mingled diffi- dence and dignity.

Let us now turn to the image my fancy draws of woman in the minor key. “Oh, what a form was there!"—a figure of fairy lightness; dark hair in many ringlets; soft black eyes; complexion dark and clear as the summer light of southern Europe; and a coun- tenance alternately lighted up with smiles and shaded by deep emotions: Her words are of poetry and ro- mance; her thoughts of love’s passion and constancy; her feelings all enthusiastic, whether for the friend that shares her intimacy, or the lover who will some day perchance with coldness requite her devotion. Music is in her soul and her voice,—not the light strain of joyous hours, but more soft, more sad, more voluptuous melody. She looks upon life less as the scene of active duties and quiet pleasures, than as a fitful state of alternate happiness and sorrow, depend- ent on the fantastic fluctuations in her own feelings and sensibilities. Her figure is the portraiture of the tragic muse, and wherever she appears, worshippers fall down before the beauteous vision.

Less by way of comparison than of contrast, [ will, on a few points, bring Major and Minor into juxta- position.

The first is more occasionally generous, the other more habitually benevolent. Major wins all hearts by the unvarying sweetness of her smiles and temper; Minor by the love-lighted gleams which, at times, only illuminate her expressive face. Major endears to us the scenes of every-day life; Minor is the being that haunted our most youthful dreams. Major is the one with whom we would placidly sail along the stream of existence; Minor the one with and for whom we could brave the stormiest waves of passion. Our love for Major is more durable and sincere; for Minor, more fervent and, alas! more fleeting. Major, in fine, is unvarying sunshine; Minor the beautiful beam of moonlight emerging on a sudden from a mass of clouds. The warmth of the first gladdens every hour of life, the brightness of the second illuminates its holiest epochs!