284 PRÆTERITA-II

bonne. There they sate laughing and chattering, with the expression of perfect happiness on their faces, thinking no more of the Alpine heights behind them, or the city beneath them, than of Constantinople; while I, with every feeling raised, I should think to a great degree above theirs, was in a state of actually severe mental pain, because I could perceive materials of the highest pleasure around me, and felt the time hang heavy on my hands. Here is the pride, you perceive, good reader, and the sullens-dum pituita molesta est¹-both plain enough. But it is no lofty pride in which I say my “feelings” were raised above the French bonne’s. Very solemnly, I did not think myself a better creature than she, nor so good; but only I knew there was a link between far Soracte and me,-nay, even between unseen Voltur and me,-which was not between her and them;² and meant a wider earthly, if not heavenly, horizon, under the birth-star.

47. Meantime, beneath the hill, my mother knitted, as quietly as if she had been at home, in the corner of the great Roman room in which she cared for nothing but the cleanliness, as distinguishing it from the accommodation of provincial inns; and the days turned, and it was time to think of the journey to Naples, before any of us were tired of Rome. And simple cousin Mary, whom I never condescended to ask for either sympathy or opinion, was really making better use of her Roman days than any of us. She was a sound, plain, musician; (having been finished by Moscheles³); attended to the church orchestras carefully,

¹ [Horace, Epistles, i. 1, 108.]

² [Ruskin in his copy marked this passage as “needing note.” The meaning, of course, is not only that, looking out across the Campagna to Mount Soracte, he had the artistic perception to know that “its outline was good” (above, p. 272); but also that his feelings for the scene were akin to those of Byron-

“All, save the lone Soracte’s height display’d,

Not now in snow, which asks the lyric Roman’s aid

For our remembrance”-

(Childe Harold, iv. 74: see Vol. IX. p. 86 n.); and of Horace (nurtured beneath far distant and unseen Voltur, Odes, iii. 4)-“Vides ut alta stet nive candidum Soracte”-(Odes, i. 9).]

³ [Ignaz Moscheles (1794-1870), Bohemian pianist; settled in London, 1826-1848.]

[Version 0.04: March 2008]