MARIE BASHKIRTSEFF,

ALL her life Marie Bashkirtseff (1860-1884) was a victim to a wild thirst for fame; through music, literature and art she sought successively to find a road to glory. Dying in the full flush of ardent womanhood, she received the long-coveted reward, only when she lay in her tomb. Her "Journal," published a few years after her death, is a striking revelation of inner self-almost as startling, though not so scandalous, as Rousseau's "Confessions." In this "Journal" the world has the confession (in the particular case of a fierce-spirited girl) of that universal self-esteem, vanity, and gnawing hunger for fame which lies deep in human nature itself. The petted child of a family of social distinction, idolized by her mother and aunt; a charming lady to whom the butterflyworld of fashion had few closed doors; a gifted-indeed, too gifted-woman; Marie Bashkirtseff's restless spirit yearned incessantly to achieve something grand, that would make the whole world bow at her feet. Nothing was fine enough for her. "The offspring of Tartar nobles, with savage instincts lying like half-tamed wild beasts in the background of her consciousness," is Mathilde Blind's summary of her character, adding: "She was descended from owners of lands and serfs, and the instincts of command, the pride of power, the love of all things splendid, became part of her inheritance."

Later, studying art in a Parisian studio, she fell under the influence of Jules Bastien-Lepage, head of the new impressionistic school. She seems to have had a hero-worship for him, and to have lost herself to an appreciable degree in her growing love of art; and yet throughout all preserved her imperious personality. As a painter she acquired considerable success in the handling of Paris street scenes and gamins, sympathetically and half-pathetically treated. But her lifelong dream was of a great religious picture, which should show the two Marys mourning, as deprived of support and consolation, before the tomb of Jesus.

The following extract is from "Marie Bashkirtseff. The Journal of a Young Artist." Translated by M. J. Serrano. Copyright, 1889, by O. M. Dunham.

EXTRACT FROM HER JOURNAL.

NICE, Wednesday, May 23, 1877.-Oh, when I think that we have only a single life to live, and that every moment that passes brings us nearer death, I am ready to go distracted! I do not fear death, but life is so short that to waste it is infamous. . . .

Ah, what a happy time youth is! With what happiness shall I look back, in times to come, on these days devoted to science and art! If I worked thus all the year round-but a day, or a week, as the chance may be! Natures so richly endowed as mine consume themselves in idleness.

I try to tranquillize my mind by the thought that I shall certainly begin work in earnest this winter. But the thought of my seventeen years makes me blush to the roots of my hair. Almost seventeen, and what have I accomplished? Nothing! This thought crushes me.

I think of all the famous men and women who acquired their celebrity late in life, in order to console myself; but seventeen years for a man are nothing, while for a woman they are equal to twenty-three for a man.

To go live in Paris, in the North, after this cloudless sky, these clear, calm nights! What can one desire, what can one hope for, after Italy! Paris-the heart of the civilized world, of the world of intellect, of genius, of fashion-naturally people go there, and remain there, and are happy there; it is even indispensable to go there, for a multitude of reasons, in order to return with renewed delight to the land beloved of God, the land of the blest, that enchanted, wondrous, divine land of the supreme beauty and magic charm, of which all that one could say would never equal the truth!

When foreigners come to Italy they ridicule its mean little towns and its lazzaroni, and they do this with some cleverness, and not without a certain show of reason. But forget for the moment that you are clever; forget that it is a mark of genius to turn everything into ridicule, and you will find, as I do, that tears will mingle with your laughter, and that you will wonder at all you see.

PERIOD VIII.

NINETEENTH CENTURY.

OLITICAL revolutions have strongly affected Italian literature throughout the greater part of the century. Alfieri adhered to the Classical school in form and endeavored to restore the

writers of the Greek tragedy. But the Roman

tic school speedily prevailed, though the unique genius of Leopardi resisted the change of form. During the time that Napoleon swayed the destinies of the peninsula, Ugo Foscolo and Vincenzo Monti, belonging to Lombardy, were the chief poets. Monti passed like a shuttlecock from party to party during the convulsions of the state. After having won the favor of the Papal court by graceful odes, he denounced the French Revolution in his powerful epic, "Bassevilliana," then he settled at Milan under Napoleon's patronage and lauded the emperor in his tragedies. Yet when the Austrians returned, he celebrated the expulsion of the French. Though his old age was embittered with controversies and poverty, he continued to give proof of his splendid lyric power. Ugo Foscolo was a consistent Republican and accepted exile in London rather than renounce his opinions. Though an original poet of merit, his mission was rather to introduce a better knowledge of Italian literature into England.

When Austria had established its power in Northern Italy, freedom of thought was suppressed, yet there was a group of notable literary men at Milan who have become known as

the School of Resignation. The greatest of these was Manzoni, who atoned for the infidelity of his early youth by the fervent Catholicism of his riper years. His poetic talents were devoted to sacred hymns, celebrating the Church festivals, and his dramatic ability was shown in spirited tragedies, but his real fame rests upon his masterly novel, "I Promessi Sposi," which is still regarded as the most characteristic Italian production of the century. "It satisfies us," said Goethe, "like perfectly ripe fruit." Though his life was prolonged fifty years after the publication of this great work, this modest valetudinarian practically accomplished nothing more of value, but endeavored to improve the diction of his masterpiece, by making it conform to Tuscan idiom. Some tragedies by the gentle Silvio Pellico, especially his "Francesca da Rimini," are still esteemed in Italy, but the world at large remembers him only by his pathetic narrative, "My Prisons," a searching revelation of Austrian despotism. Tommaso Grossi was a more versatile writer, best known by his satires and playful poems.

Hardly until 1825 did Florence, which had been the literary centre since the Renaissance, resume its former rank. Guerrazzi as a youth had enjoyed the friendship of Byron and was stirred to write historical novels on Italian themes in imitation of Sir Walter Scott's efforts for his native land. The grander genius of Niccolini recalled the events of his country's past in noble tragedies. Giuseppe Giusti, who possessed high genius as a lyrist, spent his force in political and social satires. He was the first of Italian satirists to reach and stir the hearts of the people. But great as were the merits of these writers, a greater still remains. Above them towered the unique melancholy Leopardi, doomed by ill health and adverse circumstances to spend his powers in unavailing remonstrances against the decrees of fate and the conventions of society. His poems are unsurpassed for refinement and beauty of form. His prose dialogues, written somewhat in imitation of Lucian, are devoted to the discussion of the inevitable misery of mankind, and are recognized examples of refined scholarly pessimism. While his writings show his determination to think ill of mankind as a whole; he had

tender affection for certain individuals. With his view of the utter uselessness of human effort, Leopardi gave no help to the patriotic aspirations of his countrymen.

Northern Italy has still continued to produce literary men. Verona was the birthplace of Aleardi; the border of Tyrol produced Prati; Dall' Ongaro belongs to Trieste, the Austrian seaport. In contemporary literature Giosue Carducci claims the foremost place as a lyric poet; Gabriele D'Annunzio shines as a poet, but is more widely known as a realistic, erotic novelist. Edmondo D'Amicis by his picturesque books of travel has become a general favorite. Poets and novelists of the present day have abandoned the political themes of the early century and cultivate with success artistic literature.

UGO FOSCOLO.

THE Letters of Jacopo Ortis, which has been styled the Italian "Sorrows of Young Werther," was the first notable work of Ugo Foscolo (1777-1827). Jacopo was no mere sentimental swain, but a patriot with whose love-pangs was mingled grief for the misfortunes of his country. Foscolo, although a native of the isle of Zante, with Greek blood in his veins, and the pride of Greek ancestry, was also of Venetian descent, and in spirit an ardent Italian. Upon the fall of the oligarchic Republic of Venice, he addressed an ode to Bonaparte as the liberator. When that general, instead of making Venice a free republic, turned her over to Austria by the treaty of Campo Formo (October 17, 1797), Foscolo was painfully shocked. Nevertheless he did not entirely abandon hope of redress for his country from France. He became a volunteer in the French army, and was present at both the battle of Trebbia and the defence of Genoa under Masséna. While recovering from a wound, he put into shape his "Jacopo Ortis," the hero of