the tail of a comet; this is attributed to the motion of that body during the period necessary to complete the figure. The more intense the light, the greater the rapidity of the operation; and an image obtained by the comparatively feeble light of the moon

BALTHAZAR COZZA.

THE Condition of Europe in the latter part of the 14th century was lamentable, and the nations resounded from end to end with wars and rumours of wars. The countries were harassed by bands

the light of day.

On the 7th ult., M. Arago made a verbal report on this discovery to the Academy of Sciences at Paris, to the published accounts of which we are indebted for our information on this very interesting subject. It appears that the attempt to fix the representations of the camera is not new. Sir Humphrey Davy, and other scientific men, made, some years ago, many experiments with this object in view; they even operated with some success on nitrate of silver, which was found to be the substance most sensibly affected by light, but they could not succeed in permanently fixing the impression. M. Daguerre acknowledges that the first idea of his process was given to him fifteen years ago by M. Nieps, of Chalons-sur-Saône, but in so imperfect a state, that it has cost him long and persevering labour to bring it to its present comparative perfection.

All the uses to which the Daguerotype may be applied, in the furtherance of art and science, can scarcely yet be ascertained, but several are already obvious. Many interesting experiments on the nature and properties of light have already been made, and some unexpected results obtained. Its use to the traveller who desires to procure faithful pictures of the works of art or nature is evident; and it will prove especially serviceable to him in the countries of the tropics, where it is to be expected that one or two minutes will suffice to produce the result, for which eight or ten minutes are required at Paris.

To the artist it will prove the most useful auxiliary in the study of chiaro oscuro. The beautiful manner in which the surface of different objects is distinguished, will probably lead to great improvements in art. The representations of the same statue in marble and plaster of Paris are recognised instantly, although the light and shade on each are precisely the same.

The objects represented by the solar microscope are indelibly fixed by this instrument, affording the student of natural history an opportunity of examining at his leisure, objects hitherto beheld but for a few minutes at a time. Every day some fresh advantage gained by this astonishing invention, will be made manifest : it is yet in its infancy, but we shall watch its progress, and at some future day we hope to lay before our readers further details of the results produced by its agency.

TRANSLATION OF AN EXTEMPORE ARAB SONG.

Оn, she was beauty's self, and shone in matchless symmetry. When shall I hear news of her? how support her absence and her loss? My hopes are but as the fantastic dreams of night: yet with this hopelessness my love does but increase, even as a star shines the brightest in the blackest night. Oh! Mabrookah ! thy head sinks too with sorrow at losing him whose thoughts are still of thee-but as the desert bird drops and smooths its wing, but to display the richness of its plumage, so will thy silent grief but cause thee to appear with increased charms! Vain and cruel delusion! At the moment of the possession of earthly happiness to doom us to melancholy despair, was as if the traveller should draw to the brink of the well, and then see the wished-for draught snatched from his thirsty lips.

when not in the service of any sovereign, did not hold themselves disgraced by warring upon their own account; by whom the pillage of a town was held an honourable achievement, and who acknowledged no lord but their own chief, no law but their sword. Such was the celebrated Geoffry Tête-Noire in France; such, save that he carried on his depredations by sea, instead of on shore, was the hero of our tale.

Born of a noble, but impoverished family, Balthazar Cozza early sought to restore its fortunes by maritime adventure. His talents seemed particularly fitted for command; and but a short time from his first setting his foot on board a galley, Balthazar was acknowledged as a leader. He was daring and successful, and was feared;

he

grew rich, and he was respected.

Such was the man who was chosen by the Anjevine party to proceed on an embassy to Louis of Anjou, king of Sicily, to beseech him to hasten to the rescue of his kingdom. Balthazar lost no time in preparing his galleys, adorning them with every ornament, and supplying them with every luxury fitted to support and grace the dignity of his office. His mainsail was of purple, and embroidered with the arms of Naples, beneath which was placed the scutcheon of the Cozzas. A few days saw his two gallant vessels proudly approach the shores of Provence, giving notice from afar of their coming, by the glitter of their purple sails, the fluttering of their gala banners, and the dash of their hundred oars, falling in regular cadence with the chant of the mariners. His mission was successful. Louis, without loss of time, made ready an armament to carry succour to his partisans.

This voyage was an epoch in the life of Cozza. He had hitherto lived almost without an aim. He had warred and taken spoil; he had enjoyed riches, the fruit of his labours; but where was this erratic life to lead? Was there no nobler ambition than the thirst for gold? He now became familiar with the courts of kings, he saw the splendour of the Sovereign Pontiff, and his breast was filled with the thirst of power. To will and to do had hitherto been the same with the adventurous corsair, and the ambitious man cast his eyes around him to discover by what path he might best achieve his object. To subdue an island of the seas, and reign a monarch there, might be an easy task, but such a state could not sustain itself against more powerful neighbours, and to any other throne his way was barred; royal blood alone might aspire to any regal throne in Europe. But there was another throne more powerful than that of the kings of earth, to which the road was open. Why should he not aspire to the Papal Chair? The times were favourable for the attempt; the Church was rent by schism, and already two Popes divided the patrimony of St. Peter; and if two, why should there not be three? ay, a third, who might give laws to his opponents? Clement, who had been raised up to oppose the violence of Urban, was now but thirty-six years of age. He owed his elevation to his talents; why

should Cozza fear success?

Before Louis of Anjou quitted Provence, Clement VII. bestowed his benediction on the galley which was to transport the king of Sicily to Naples, and Balthazar assisted at the ceremony. How profound was the reverence of king, court, and people! how low they bowed beneath the outstretched finger of the pontiff, as he blessed them! how all were humbled before his eye! Balthazar from that moment was resolved; and from that moment all his energies were directed to the attainment of that

triple crown, which he was determined should be his.

had lasted almost a whole year? His resolution was irrevocable, and he would not have hesitated to sacrifice a mere woman, even

had she been his wedded wife. But no divorce was necessary to restore his liberty; Clotilda was not his wife, she was but his mistress-his slave.

During one of his cruises in the Grecian Archipelago, he disembarked at Cerigo under pretext of commerce, and whilst there, he beheld a young girl, fair and beautiful as the goddess whose votaries, in ancient days, erected her fane in that voluptuous isle. He was young, handsome, and violent; he gained her love, and bore Clotilda far away from a tender mother, and a betrothed bridegroom.

The poor Greek arrived at Naples, where she outshone, in her native grace and elegant attire, both the first among the Neapolitan ladies, and those Spanish dames who had come from Sicily, whither they had followed the House of Arragon. Clotilda became celebrated; there was no woman who did not envy her; none who believed that she herself was so deeply beloved. She had sacrificed all to the valiant pirate-all !—her mother, and her country; she had forgotten all in the indulgence of one overpowering delight, the love of Balthazar.

Could Cozza quit her? he who had, before her eyes, stabbed the friend of his boyhood, on the bare suspicion that he ventured to love her? He could. He went straight to Clotilda, without suffering the least trace of the emotions which had agitated him, but over which he had triumphed, to appear in his countenance. He would not debase himself by dissembling.

"Clotilda," said he, "I come to request a great sacrifice." "A sacrifice, Balthazar ! Am I not altogether yours? Have you not a right to command me? Must I renounce this splendid life, which is but ill fitted for the poor daughter of the gardener of Cerigo? Do you need the numberless jewels which your love, more inventive than woman's fancy, has bestowed on me? Take these necklaces of zechins and bezants with which you have encircled my throat; these bracelets whose value equals the revenue of a province, and whose sparkling brilliants would be worthy ornaments even in the crown of Clement."

"The crown of Clement! Do you know, Clotilda, what word you have spoken?"

"A very simple word. If I knew, Balthazar, anything more sacred or more beautiful than that crown, I would have named it, to show you at what rate I prize the presents you have heaped upon me."

"You are right, Clotilda; that crown, that triple crown, is splendid."

"Doubtless, Balthazar; but what connexion can there be between it and the sacrifice you expect from your slave?” "Clotilda, we must part."

"We must part!" cried Clotilda, rising with precipitation and seizing the hand of Balthazar Cozza, who with a troubled countenance could scarcely look upon his slave. "We must part! Oh never! You cannot wish it. You have some journey to perform, and you will leave me at Naples; then you will return to me?"

"A journey! Yes. I go to Bologna, but I shall not return." "Is it indeed so? You leave me for ever, Balthazar, for ever? The example of kings has corrupted you. You should not imitate the conduct of men whom you despise. Ladislas repudiated Constance of Clermont to make room for another; and you, the servant of Louis of Anjou, drive me away, to avoid owning me as your wife. Alas! you should rather imitate the king of Sicily and Naples in his tenderness for Yoland of Arragon, than the ungrateful and perfidious Ladislas."

"No more of this useless passion, and unnecessary reproach. We must separate; I have said it, and you well know no power can move me. Speak no more of the example of Ladislas. There is no resemblance between the cases; Constance was his wife,-you are not mine, Clotilda.”

"Barbarian, why did you not kill me when you forced me from my mother at Cerigo?"

"Listen, Clotilda; I shall soon be twenty-five years old, and I am but an adventurer. This life without splendour, grandeur, or excitement, wearies me, and makes me miserable. Riches, and even thy love, no longer suffice for me. I need power and a great part in the world. The schism which prevails in the west offers me an opportunity of achieving my desire. I aspire to the throne of St. Peter; that throne is still far above me, and I am not yet upon its lowest step; but when once I have placed my foot there, I shall mount rapidly. To any one of those vain and debauched women whom we see around us, I might say, 'To-morrow I enter into the church, and you shall be my mistress,' and all would answer, 'Be you priest, doctor, bishop, cardinal, or Pope, I will be your mistress.' But you, Clotilda, I know well; I love you very truly; I honour too much your greatness of soul, the nobility and chastity of your heart, to hold such language. Your lot is to lament and to quit me. Take one of my ships, load it with every thing of value belonging to you, and return to Cerigo. You are free!"' Clotilda had fallen back upon her couch of cushions; she wept no more; she kept silence for a moment, and then, in a tone of voice in which sweetness was blended with and yet overcame pride, she replied:

"You are the lord, and I your slave submit; I will obey you. I deserve this cruel punishment from Heaven for the weakness with which I have loved you, when I ought rather to have killed myself than to have fled with you. No, I shall not curse you, but I shall weep for you, for you will be even more miserable than I; I shall pray to God for you, and however unlikely it may seem that a prelate, a prince of the church, or a pontiff, should stand in need of the aid of a poor woman, yet I shall be always with you when my assistance is wanting. I shall accept the gifts with which your tenderness has loaded me, but I shall not carry them to Cerigo, for I can never return to that island, where shame would overwhelm me as I stepped upon the shore. As for you, take care lest your foot slip upon the dangerous steps which lead to the thrones of the popes of Rome and Avignon."

Clotilda threw herself upon her knees before Balthazar, and carried his hand to her lips and then to her forehead, in token of respect; then rising, she saluted him coldly:

"Adieu," she said; "you will not see me again, until misfortune comes upon you."

Balthazar hesitated, and made one step towards her to take her hand, which she drew back with dignity. His resolution, shaken for a moment, was restored, and he departed.

II. CARDINAL.

Two days after Balthazar had taken leave of Clotilda, he mounted on horseback in the court of his palazzo, and departed for Bologna, attended by an old domestic.

Before he left the house where he had passed so many happy hours, whilst yet the fever of ambition was but a vague desire, the future prince of the church longed for one last look upon the woman whose reproaches, when he sacrificed her to his selfish feelings, had been so gentle. He drew near the balcony, where Clotilda had been accustomed to appear whenever he went forth on a hunting party, or to the court ceremonies which had often taken place during the last month, since Louis II. of Sicily had taken possession of the throne. He forced his horse to caracole, and bade his servant sound the trumpet in token of adieu. All his servants were there, he was encircled by his friends, loud cries were uttered, a thousand good wishes were expressed, but no one appeared in the balcony. The thick curtain of tapestry was not raised. Cozza would have bartered all the warm wishes which were lost in the air around him, for one last look of Clotilda. She, shut up in her oratory, wept and prayed. It was in vain that Balthazar sought her behind the blinds, where love, stronger than reason, might perhaps have led her. He was obliged to depart without seeing her, without bearing her blessing with

him.

Clotilda had foretold misfortune, and he could not shake off a certain apprehension when he recalled the words she had spoken

in a sadly prophetic tone, announcing the cruel disgraces in store for him. Was it only deceived love, which had dictated those menaces to the unhappy Greek? or was Clotilda really acquainted with the destiny she predicted to her lover, by one of those mysterious revelations which are sometimes permitted by Heaven? To escape these thoughts, and these disturbing doubts, Balthazar put his horse to his speed, and in a few minutes had cleared the environs of Naples. He then breathed more at ease, and slackening his pace, he waited until his servant, who was mounted on a mule, came up.

The man who accompanied Balthazar was an old adventurer, whom Cozza had attached to himself from the first day he set foot on board a galley. He was devoted to his master, whom he served with a blind obedience, which permitted no remark which could imply a doubt of his zeal; for once he was discontented, and had already suffered his displeasure to appear so plainly as not to be misunderstood by Cozza. When he came up to his master, who was waiting for him at the top of a hill from whence he could command a view of the beautiful bay of Naples, he exclaimed, "At what a rate you ride, my noble lord! they will say you are running away."

"I shall ride more gently now, Gennaro; but I felt obliged to quit Naples quickly, lest love should have detained me." "Well, was that so great an evil?”

"Love leads to nothing; the road to Bologna leads to honour, to glory."

"Honour! glory! glory, my lord, at Bologna? I cannot understand it. Has the sea reached Bologna during the thirty years I

have been absent?"

"Know that I quit the world for a few short years. I shall then return, a reverend and learned doctor, and I hope--" "Oh the devil! it is the church which tempts you perhaps you hope to become a cardinal?"

"And why not a cardinal, Gennaro? was not the Candiote Philargus, the poor beggar who was succoured by a friar-minor, afterwards the preceptor to the son of Galeas Visconti? Is he not

now a cardinal?”

"Yes; but a corsair

A corsair like myself is as worthy as the soldier whom Gregory has invested with the purple, and whom we have seen appear successively as a canonical doctor, captain, and lastly a professor at Montpellier."

"I have nothing to say against it; but for my own part, I would much rather make the sea tremble beneath my galleys; what do I say! I would rather sail in peace, on board the heaviestladen merchant-man, than sit in the councils of a pope. You must admit that, in the midst of the diabolical schisms which distract the church, the position of a cardinal is very little to be envied?"

"So much the better; this perpetual inquietude, this war of stratagems and intrigues, this violent agitation, are what make the life of a cardinal so desirable in my eyes."

"Yes, but still many ugly events have occurred. I was at Genoa not many years ago, when Urban VI., the late Pope, returning from Nocera, where he had taken refuge, seized the bishops and cardinals and put them to the torture, and only because they wished to desert a man whose cruelty and violence had caused him to be deposed by the whole college. Five of these red hats were put to death for complaining of such treatment. And on the other hand, is it likely to go well with these popes themselves? the christian kings will desert them, and then-"

"The pope will still remain, is it not so? well, the object is to be that pope-"

"And you would be he, noble lord? It may be so. And why not?" added Gennaro, ironically: "Saint Peter was a sailor too, and if a mere fisherman could become head of the church, why should not a corsair follow his example?"

The conversation, the tone of which began to be displeasing to

Balthazar, here ceased, and the same subject was not renewed. After some days' journey, during which Balthazar studiously avoided pronouncing the name of Clotilda, although his thoughts often wandered towards the woman whom he had so cruelly abandoned, our two travellers arrived at Bologna. There Balthazar seriously applied himself to study. He had intelligence, determination, reputation, fortune; the art to seduce and to persuade. Before two years had expired he took the degree of doctor in both civil and canon law, and already he saw himself drawing nearer to the papal throne. As he was setting out for Rome, some of his friends inquired whither he was going. "To the pontificate," was his reply.

This was his constant aim, in which he was determined to succeed. Balthazar was as wily as he was courageous; he presented himself before Boniface IX., also a Neapolitan, and with whose family he was acquainted; this induced him to embrace the party of Boniface rather than that of Clement. He was soon admitted into the intimacy of his sovereign, who in reward of his devotion decorated him with the purple.

In secret and in silence Clotilda had followed the footsteps of Balthazar. She had watched over him at Bologna, and now watched over him at Rome, ever ready to give that aid her forebodings told her would one day be required.

On the day on which Balthazar received his investiture, the crowd which pressed around the gates of his holiness, awaiting the benediction of the new cardinal, opened a passage to a female, clothed in a foreign garb, and covered with a long veil, who knelt devoutly, received the benediction, and as she rose exclaimed

"Your misfortunes have begun, Balthazar! God protect you." Two persons only recognised that prophetic voice, which interrupted the pious silence of the bystanders with such ill-omened words. Balthazar calmly repressed the eager zeal of Gennaro, who was hastening to seize the offender; he himself assisted Clotilda to rise, and as he did so whispered,

"My guardian angel is very imprudent; does she not know that there are convents and dungeons in Rome?" Then in a paternal voice he added:

"Go, my child, I thank you. If God calls us to martyrdom, we will bless his decrees. His will be done."

III. POPE.

The new cardinal, deacon of Saint Eustatia, was sent by Boniface, in quality of a legate, to Bologna. This town had striven to throw off the papal authority, but Cozza, by the energy with which he combated the anti-Roman faction, restored it to obedience; and during the nine years in which he exercised the sovereignty under Boniface, and his successors Innocent VII. and Gregory XII., he maintained order.

The schism still continued in all its violence. Gregory and Benedict XIII., each nominated by their respective parties, both refused to lay down the pontifical power, and to restore union by a joint election by the colleges of cardinals, at Rome and Avignon. The interference of kings was of no avail, and recourse was at last had to a council.

On the 20th June, 1409, the fathers assembled at Pisa, elected Peter of Candia, the same beggar whom Galeas Visconti had made bishop of Milan, and Pope Innocent VII. a cardinal.

Peter of Candia, who assumed the name of Alexander V., did not reign long; his pontificate lasted only ten months and eight days. Balthazar Cozza, who governed Alexander, kept him at Bologna; he never quitted him, dictated all his acts, and in fact exercised all the power of the popedom, which he hoped soon to possess in his own person.

Alexander had hardly closed his eyes before the cardinal of Saint Eustatia began to take his measures. He was desirous of being elected, and perhaps the moment was a favourable one, since all the Roman cardinals were at Bologna, and he was governor of the city in which the conclave was about to be held. The opposition which he foresaw, was not easily to be overWith some electors he employed flattery, with others

come.

in the castle of the palatine? He was forty-seven years old, with an imagination still ardent; he was disenchanted from those wild ideas of ambition, which had been his ruin: did his heart re-open to love; did his thoughts return to Clotilda? No! A philosopher and a christian, he occupied himself in the composition of touching elegies, in Latin verse of great elegance, in which he sang of his eclipsed grandeur. He was resigned, but did not wearily pine for past hours of happiness, which he only regretted as a poet.

He still sighed after liberty, and that liberty the Emperor was willing to accord, for a ransom of thirty thousand crowns.

He

had been despoiled of everything, and Gennaro had but ten pieces of base Florentine money; but the angel was still present. Clotilda, who had never regarded the fortune Balthazar left her otherwise than as a deposit, paid the ransom; and Cozza left his prison ignorant what hand had broken his chains. He was not informed of it till six months afterwards, when he rejoined his illustrious friend Cosmo de Medici, at Florence.

He there found Martin V. He threw himself at his feet, acknowledged him as sovereign pontiff, and confessed to him all the errors of his ambitious soul. Martin, moved even to tears, raised, embraced him, and created him Deacon of the Sacred College. Balthazar Cozza passed his last years tranquilly in making verses. But the conflict had been great, the shock had been such that he fell sick. But the torments he endured were softened by the cares, the prayers, the touching exhortations, of a nun, who had obtained permission to wait upon the poor Cardinal. This sister, whose black veil completely concealed her figure, and who was called Bridget,-the name of the Saint canonized at Constance,-did not make herself known to the sick man until the eve of his death. Alas! when she removed her veil, Cozza could scarcely recognize in those emaciated features the lovely Greek, who had been the admiration of Naples, and who had watched over him from Bologna to Heidelberg. The last words of Balthazar were "Angel that thou art, pray for me."

Clotilda closed the eyes of the Cardinal, and not long after Gennaro, who had remained so faithful to the fortunes of Cozza, and who had so deep an admiration for the daughter of Cerigo, assisted at the funeral solemnities of the nun, who died of grief; died—chaste in an age of horrible depravity, died, because Balthazar had left her for a throne which crumbled beneath his feet. She might have become the mistress of a Cardinal or a Prince; she preferred to be the wife of the Corsair Balthazar, and he sacrificed her to his ambition. John XXIII. did not suspect that when he made a saint at Constance, he made a martyr at Florence.

ANCIENT COLONIES.

Ir was an Italian religious usage, in times of severe pressure from war or pestilence, to make a vow of a sacred spring, (ver sacrum,) that is, to consecrate all the creatures born in the next spring. When twenty years had elapsed, the cattle were sacrificed or redeemed; the youth were sent forth. A vow of this kind was made by the Romans in the second year of the second Punic war: but it extended only to their flocks and herds. Such vows, the tradition runs, led to the sending out the Sabine colonies; sacred animals were charged by the gods to whom any of them were dedicated to guide them on their way. One colony was led by a woodpecker, the bird of Mamers, into Picenum, then peopled by Pelasgians or Liburnians; another by an ox into the land of the Opicans: this became the great Samnite people. The Hirpinians were guided by a wolf.

All the Sabellians, but especially the Marsians, practised divination, principally from the flight of birds. The Marsians also boasted of being able to charm serpents, and of having magical cares for their bites; and to this day the jugglers, who are wont to handle those reptiles familiarly, as one of the chief tricks they exhibit to the populace of Rome and Naples, come out of the same country, from the Lago di Celano, in the Abruzzo.-Niebuhr's History of Rome.

TRANSMIGRATION OF POETIC IDEAS.

What do you think of this idea, picked out of an old book :"A worthy poet is the purest essence of a worthy man?" Here it is in poetry.

"Poet and saint! to thee at once is given,

The two most sacred names in earth and heaven." "The particles of poetry," says Mr. Keightley, "like those of matter, are in eternal circulation, and forming new combinations." Thus, an Eastern poem commences:

"When the sun from the fish to the ram doth return, Spring's banner waves high on the breeze of the morn." And Moore, in his "Lalla Rookh," undoubtedly without any knowledge of the Eastern song, sings,

"And day, with his banner of radiance unfurl'd,
Shines into the mountainous fortal that opes
Sublime from that valley or bliss to the world."