ticular, the change from a state of discomfort
to one of comfort--or _vice versa_ unluckily, but with that we have
nothing immediately to do--applies to all. In actual life you are hot,
tired, bored, headachy, "spited with fools," what not. A change of
atmosphere, a bath, a draught of some not unfermented liquor, the sight
of a face, what not again, nay, sometimes a mere shift of clothing, will
make you cool, satisfied, at peace. In dreams you have generally to
wake, to shake off the "fierce vexation," and to realise that it _is_ a
dream; but the relief comes sooner or later. If anybody wants to
experience this change from discomfort to comfort in the book-world of a
single author, I cannot commend anything better than the perusal, with a
short interval--but there should be some--of _Consuelo_ after _Lelia_.
We may have some things to say against the later novel; but that does
not matter.

[Sidenote: Much better in parts.]

It opens with no tricks or _tours de force_; in no atmosphere of
darkened footlights and smell of sawdust; but in frank and free
novel-fashion, with a Venetian church, a famous maestro (Porpora), a
choir of mostly Italian girls, and the little Spanish gipsy Consuelo,
the poorest, humblest, plainest (as most people think) of all the bevy,
but the possessor of the rarest vocal faculties and the most
happiness-producing-and-diffusing temper. There is nothing in the least
milk-soppy or prudish about Consuelo, though she is perfectly "pure";
nor is there anything tractified about her, though she is pious and
generous. The contrast between her and her betrothed, the handsome but
worthless Anzoleto, also a singer, is, at first, not overworked; and one
scene--that in which, when Consuelo has got over the "scraggy" age and
is developing actual beauty, she and Anzoleto debate, in the most
natural manner, whether she _is_ pretty or not--is quite capital, one of
the things that stick in one's memory and stamp the writer's genius, or,
at any rate, consummate talent.

[Sidenote: The degeneration.]

This happy state of affairs continues without much deterioration, though
perhaps with some warnings to the experienced, for some two hundred
pages. The situations and the other characters--the Professor Porpora
himself; Count Zustiniani, _dilettante_, _impresario_ and of course
gallant; his _prima donna_ and (in the story at least) first mistress,
La Corilla; her extravagances and seduction of the handsome Anzoleto;