The meadows with fresh streams, the bees with thyme,
The goats with the green leaves of budding Spring,
Are saturated not--nor Love with tears.--VIRGIL'S "Gallus".
Count Maddalo is a Venetian nobleman of ancient family and of great
fortune, who, without mixing much in the society of his countrymen,
resides chiefly at his magnificent palace in that city. He is a person
of the most consummate genius, and capable, if he would direct his
energies to such an end, of becoming the redeemer of his degraded
country. But it is his weakness to be proud: he derives, from a
comparison of his own extraordinary mind with the dwarfish intellects
that surround him, an intense apprehension of the nothingness of human
life. His passions and his powers are incomparably greater than those
of other men; and, instead of the latter having been employed in
curbing the former, they have mutually lent each other strength. His
ambition preys upon itself, for want of objects which it can consider
worthy of exertion. I say that Maddalo is proud, because I can find no
other word to express the concentred and impatient feelings which
consume him; but it is on his own hopes and affections only that he
seems to trample, for in social life no human being can be more
gentle, patient and unassuming than Maddalo. He is cheerful, frank and
witty. His more serious conversation is a sort of intoxication; men
are held by it as by a spell. He has travelled much; and there is an
inexpressible charm in his relation of his adventures in different
countries.
Julian is an Englishman of good family, passionately attached to those
philosophical notions which assert the power of man over his own mind,
and the immense improvements of which, by the extinction of certain
moral superstitions, human society may be yet susceptible. Without
concealing the evil in the world he is for ever speculating how good
may be made superior. He is a complete infidel, and a scoffer at all
things reputed holy; and Maddalo takes a wicked pleasure in drawing
out his taunts against religion. What Maddalo thinks on these matters
is not exactly known. Julian, in spite of his heterodox opinions, is
conjectured by his friends to possess some good qualities. How far
this is possible the pious reader will determine. Julian is rather
serious.
Of the Maniac I can give no information. He seems, by his own account,
to have been disappointed in love. He was evidently a very cultivated
and amiable person when in his right senses. His story, told at
length, might be like many other stories of the same kind: the
unconnected exclamations of his agony will perhaps be found a
sufficient comment for the text of every heart.
