The narrative of the proceedings on the occasion, ridiculous enough even if they had been genuine, becomes infinitely more absurd when read by the light of the real facts of the case. It was pretended that the Academy of Arcadians were to adjudge and decree the crown. And they were to make believe to subject the aspirant to a tremendously severe ordeal; on which it was supposed their judgment was to be based. In solemn Arcadian conclave accordingly it was arranged that the poetess should be called on to extemporise on twelve "subjects of science and art." And twelve experienced shepherds are gravely appointed by the conclave to propose themes on the following subjects:— 1. Sacred history. 7. Legislation. 2. Revealed religion. 8. Eloquence. 3. Moral philosophy. 9. Mythology. 4. Physical science. 10. Harmony. 5. Metaphysics. 11. The fine arts. 6. Heroic poetry. 12. Pastoral poetry. When poor Corilla should have produced a sufficient extempore poem on each of these subjects, she was to be declared worthy of the laurel–crown! Sacred history was assigned to Bishop Giovardi, who was "Dean of Arcadia." And the Archbishop of Apamea undertook revealed religion. Physical science was entrusted to the Pope's physician; the other subjects confided to equally able shepherds. Three days were appointed for the solemn trial; four poems per day being deemed as much as the poet or the audience could endure. And on each of these, four of the appointed twelve examiners were to hand in a theme in a paper carefully sealed, to show that it could not have been communicated previously to the candidate. And of course everybody pretended to consider this as proof perfectly conclusive on that point. The first examination was to take place at the house of Prince Gonzago di Castiglione; and all "the cream" of the Roman world was there. "The improvisatrice," says the record, "entered the saloon with some appearance of apprehension, seeing herself exposed to so arduous an ordeal, and to the judgment of the public. The signal was given to the violins to begin their harmonious sounds for the purpose of stirring up the poetess—_per iscuotere la poetessa_—and while everybody was expecting some well–considered exordium, she looked around as if lost and stupefied; and seeing at that moment one of her Arcadian friends enter, she burst into song imploring of him prompt and well–timed aid. Then as if repenting of the weakness, and disdaining all human assistance, she invoked the mighty name of God; which produced a tender commotion in the audience. Then blazing up into a wonderful estro of song, the poetess, continually changing her metre and rhythm, ran over all the varied scientific topics proposed to her with an inexhaustible vein of poesy." [Sidenote: THE FIRST DAY.]