have it to this day. verified. We shall see whether his predictions were In the same year a circumstance occurred which shewed in curious way the depreciated state of the currency of France, as well as the poverty of the French Government. Mons. De P.— the Gallic minister in London, waited on the Home Secretary and requested his aid in a certain case of coining, winch he said was being carried on to a great extent. A contractor of several public buildings in Paris was then paying his workmen with halt-irane and trane pieces made at Birmingham of brass, and washed with silver, and he wanted the British Government to interfere and prevent the exportation of them. Lord S. replied that he had no such power, but would nevertheless put a stop to the thing somehow it he could find out the makers and shippers. Not being able to learn that, I was sent for and requested to trace the parties. I confess I set about the task with some reluctance, for I had not forgotten the "coachman's son;" however in the end I went to work, and alter fortnight of spying and peeping, hit upon an old house in Belton Street, Long Acre, which proved to be the receiving house for the base money previous to its being shipped. I there found twenty-seven barrels of brass pieces of francs and halt franes: they were very well made and might have deceived a practised eye. When we came to enquire into the extent of this trade at Bir mingham, the murder came out, and lo, we found that in mense quan tities of the same coms had been made and exported to the order of the French Government! They had been paying the troops &c., with them for some time, and nothing was said, but when a speculative contractor got a hint of it and followed their example, the case was altered, and the currency was to be protected. 'I he twenty seven barrels were seized and destroyed, but the French mi nister received a hint that his Government had better make it's own coin for the future. TO THE EDITOR OF THE CEYLON MAGAZINE. - SIR,-Should the accompanying translation from the Italian of one of Alfieri's select tragedies appear to you, to fall within the range of objects aimed at, in your interesting publication, you are entirely at liberty to transer it to your columns. It has been made in the pursuit of literary acquirements, and its publication therefore may in some small degree subserve the cause of literary taste and application. The distinguished author of the ori. ginal has handled a very difficult subject with wonderful power, delicacy, and address. The prosaic form of my English version and its being more. over as literal a rendering of the original as I could make it, lessens in some degree its attractions to the general reader, and obscures even to the more close observer the spirit and expression of the original. Some glimpses however, of these occasionally break forth, even through those disadvantages which, at the same time do not effect the general character of the tragedy as an effort of genius, in depicting the working of dark and malignant pas. THERE is nothing in history which is reported in a greater variety of ways, than what relates to the character of Philip 2nd of Spain, and the fortunes of Prince Charles, his unhappy sou by. his first wife, Mary, daughter of John 3d of Poland. Among these various traditions, the author of this Tragedy has undertaken to paint Ihilip such as not a few writers actually des cribe him, suspicious, ferocious and sanguinary-in a word the Tiberius of Spain-But as for Charles (of whom nearly all the historians say very little good) he has thought it necessary to bestow upon him, many endowments and virtues which he did not possess-Still leaving him however some defects and crimes, which Are generally attributed to him, such as favouring the people of the low countries in their rebellion against his father and the be ing enamoured of Philip's third wife Elizabeth or Isabella of France, daughter of Henry 2d, who had been at first actually betrothed to Charles, but afterwards wedded to Philip. Thus also the Poet has thought himself privileged to adopt th opinion of senie, that Charles was put to death by his Fatherand he has further et his own pleasure, caused Isabella to expire at the same time with Charles, though it is certain that she sur vived him many months, and died afterwards (at least such is the belief of many) a natural death. Philip afterwards married a fourth wife, Anna, daughter of the emperor Maximilian the 2d, by whom he had Philip 3d who suc ceeded him on the throne. His second wife had been Mary, daughter of Henry the 8th, -King of England, by whom he had no issue. Isabella. From wishes, fears, doubts, and guilty hopes, be my breast now freed ! Do I, the faithless consort of Philip dare to love the son of Philip! But who can behold him and not love him!--a brave and gen tle heart-a noble haughtiness!--a sublime genius-and under a graceful aspect, the most accomplished mind!-Ah! why hath na"ture and Heaven made thee thus !-Ah me!-What am I saying! Is it thus I am endeavouring to pluck out his sweet image from my inmost breast!-O! it such a passion should be ever đị vulged to mortal! O! if he were to suspect it !— He sees me ever sad it is true, but he sees that I avoid his presence, and he knows that all joyousness is banished from the Spanish Court. Who can read into my heart ?-Ah might be as little able to penetrate it as others are! Might I thus deceive and Ay from myself, as from others?-- Unhappy me! No solace remains to me but tears—and to shed them is a crime. But let me carry my sorrow to the inmost apartments; There more freely......... What do I behold!! Charles? —Ah, let me escape him! My every word and look may betray me! O Heaven let me escape him!! SCENE-2D. CHARLES & ISABELLA. Charles.-O! what do 1 behold!!—and what! O Queen!-Dost thou too avoid me! dost thou too fly from a man unhappy and op pressed? Isabella.-O Prince........ Chur--My father's court is (I know) unfriendly to me; what wonder is it if I read hatred, malice, and vile, ill-disguised envy imprinted upon every countenance, 1, who am obnoxious to the displeasure of my father and master? But thou, born under a less rigorous sky and with heart not yet corrupted beneath the influence of cruel airs prevailing here; shall I believe that under so sweetly majestic an aspect thou harbourest a soul averse to pity. Isa. Thou knowest the life I lead within these doors. The usages, strange to me, of an austere court, have not yet entirely expelled from my mind that sweet first love of natal soil which is so powertul within us! I know the trouble, and the unmerited wrongs which thou endurest; and, I commiserate thee! Char.-Dost thou commiserate me? O joy! now beho'd; such a word hath sprinkled with sweet oblivion all my care; and I too, participate in thy grief and I frequently lay aside my trouble, aud bewail thy hard fate and would that * * * * *! Isa.-I hope I shall have a less hard lot in time; my ills are not to be compared to thine; grief so severe thou should'st not then baye! Char.-Does my commiseration offend thee, when thine is life to me? 1sa.-Thou esteemest at too high a rate my commiseration! Char.-At too high? Ah! what sayest thou? and what-what affection is there which equals or exceeds the soft emotion of pity which every generous heart experiences in itself; which is able to repair the outrages of fortune, and does not allow any to be longer called unhappy who bring to their common griefs the solace of com mon tears. 1 Isa. What dost thou say?-yes! pity for thee! But O. Heaven! surely 1 am not a stepmother to ihee! I might venture to speak to the enraged Father for the innocent son, thou should'st see! * * * Char-And who dare so much! and if ever thou should'st dare, it becometh thee-O hard necessity! thou alone though innocent, are the occasion of my calamities-still nothing in my favor from thee! Isa.- the occasion of your trouble? Char.-Yes, my troubles have commencement altogether from that wretched day on which thou wast at once betrothed to me--and snatched away. Isa.-Alas what do you call to mind! that hope was too transient! Char.-In me it grew with my years, the better part of me; my father nourished it, yes that father whom it afterwards pleased to break the solemu bonds. Isa.-Well: Char-Subject and son of an absolute lord, I suffered, I was silent, 1. lamented but internally; his will was a law to my will, he became thy husband-and how much I have been torn ented in keeping silence and obeying, who can know dike myself !—From such virtue (and it was virtue and more than human) I went proud in heart, and at the same time sad; I kept my serious duties al ways fixed before my eyes, and if I was ever criminal even in thought, Heaven knows which sees the most inmost thoughts; I passed the days and long nights in lamentations; and to what pur pose? Hatred of me increases in my father's mind, as much as grief in my own, Isa.-Hatred is not conceived in the heart of a father,,believe it, bit suspicion certainly the crowd of courtiers which hateth thee and is so much the more provoked by thy contempt, as they are AA deserving of it, possibly has instilled suspicion within the paternal bosoin. Char.- Ah' thou knowest not what a father I have, and would to heaven that thou mayest never know-Thou knowest not the infamous windings of an impious court: an upright heart cannot believe or even imagine it more cruel than all the cruel ones he has around him. Philip is he who hates me, he gives the rule to this servile crowd, he, if even he perceives himself to be a father, is thus ex asperated. I however cannot therefore forget that I am his son, but if 1 should one day forget it and give a loose rein to repressed com> : plaints he should never hear me grieve, no never, either for honor snatched from me, nor for fame injured, nor for his own miuatural and unheard of paternal hatred; I should grieve for another loss! be took every thing away from me the day he took thee. Isa.-Prince! Rememberest thou so little that he is the lather and lord !! Char.-Ah! excuse the involuntary burst of a heart so full-till now I have never been able to open to thee my whole beart! Isa.--Thou should'st not open it to me, nor to hear Char.-Stop thee! alas, if thou hast heard a part of my misfortune, hear it all, it relieves me to speak. Char.-Alas! I shall say no more, but Ō how much then remains for me to speak, a last hope * * * Isa. And what hopes hast thou which are not criminal in thee! Char. The hope that thou dost not hate me! Isa. I ought to hate thee-and thou knowest it, if thou darest to love me! Char. Hate me then! Accuse me thyself before thy consort. Isa.-Art thou alone guilty? Chur-Art thou too therefore (guilty) in heart? Isa. Ah what do I say! Woe is me, either I have said too much, or others hast understood too much! Think alas! who I am! Think who thou art! We should deserve the anger of the King. I should hearken to thee, and thou shouldst persist! Char.-Ah! if thine heart were consumed as mine is, and pines away, didst thou behold the beloved object a thousand times a day, in another's arms, thou wouldst call it but a venial error to keep following the last good; to feed the eyes, and desire occasionally as I do, the brief innocent indulgence of a few words to a distressed heart! Isa. -Fly, alas! and forsake these fatal halls so long as I breathe, and may that be for but a short time. |