Présentation de l'éditeur
Rome is well acquainted with tbe Piazza Barberina, in the great square, with the beautiful fountain where the Tritons empty the spouting conch-shell, from which the water springs upwards many feet. Whoever has not been there, knows it, at all events, from copper-plate engravings; only it is a pity that in these the house at the corner of the Via Felice is not given, that tall corner-house, where the water pours through three pipes out of the wall down into a stone basin. That house has a peculiar interest for me ;it was there that I was bom. If I look back to my tender youth, such a crowd of bright remembrances meet me, that I scarcely know where to begin; when I contemplate the whole drama of my life, still less do I know what I should bring forward, what I should pass over as unessential, and what points may suffice to represent the whole picture. That which appears attractive to me may not be so to a stranger I will relate truly and naturally the great story, but then vanity must come into play, the wicked vanity, the desire to please. A lready, in my childhood, it sprung up like a plant, and, like the mustaid-seed of the gospel, shot forth its branches towards heaven, and became a mighty tree, in which my passions builded themselves nests. One of my earliest recollections points thereto. I was turned six years old, and was playing in the neighborhood of the church of the Capuchins, with some other children, who were all younger than myself.
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