The Continental Monthly, Vol. 2, No. 1, July, 1862. Various
the Abruzzi, where the pale, white walls
Of towns gleamed faintly on their purple sides.
The evening air was tremulous with sounds:
The thrilling chirp of insects, twittering birds,
Barking of shepherds' fierce, white, Roman dogs;
While from the narrow path, far down below,
We heard a mournful rondinella ring,
Sung by a home-returning mountaineer.
Then, as the daylight slowly climbed the hills,
And the soft wind breathed music to their steps,
O'er the old Roman watch-tower marched the stars,
In their bright legions—conquerors of night—
Shedding from silver armor shining light;
As once the Roman legions, ages past,
Marched on to conquest o'er the Latin way,
Gleaming, white-stoned, so far beneath our gaze.
Giula di Segni, 'mid the Volscians born,
Streamed in thy veins that fiery, Roman blood,
Curled thy proud lip, and fired thy eagle eyes.
Faultless in beauty, as the noble forms
Painted on rare Etrurian vase of old;
How life, ennobled by thy love, swept on,
Serene, above the mean and pitiful!
Stars! that still sparkle o'er old Segni's walls,
Oh! mirror back to me one glance from eyes
That yet may watch you from that Roman tower.
MR. BROWN BUYS A PAINTING
Caper's uncle, from St. Louis, Mr. William Browne, one day astonished several artists who were dining with him:
'My young men,' said he, 'there is one thing pleases me very much about you all, and that is, you never mention the word Art; don't seem to care any thing more about the old masters than I would about a lot of old worn-out broom-sticks; and if I didn't know I was with artists in Rome, the crib—no, what d' ye call it?'
'The manger?' suggested Rocjean.
'Yes,' continued Uncle Bill, 'the manger of art, I should think I was among a lot of smart merchants, who had gone into the painting business determined to do a right good trade.'
'Cash on delivery,' added Caper.
'Yes, be sure of that. Well, I like it; I feel at home with you; and as I always make it a point to encourage young business men, I am going to do my duty by one of you, at any rate. I shan't show favor to my nephew, Jim, any more than I do to the rest. And this is my plan: I want a painting five feet by two, to fill up a place in my house in St. Louis; it's an odd shape, and that is so much in my favor, because you haven't any of you a painting that size under way, and can all start even. I'll leave the subject to each one of you, and I'll pay five hundred dollars to the man who paints the best picture, who has his done within seven days, and puts the most work on it! Do you all understand?'
They replied affirmatively.
'But what the thunder,' asked Caper, 'are those of us who don't win the prize, going to do with paintings of such a size, left on our hands? Nobody, unless a steamboat captain, who wants to ornament his berths, just that size, and relieve the tedium of his passengers, would ever think of buying them.'
'Well,' replied Uncle Bill, 'I don't want smart young men like you all, to lose your time and money, so I'll buy the balance of the paintings for what the canvas and paints cost, and give two dollars a day for the seven days employed on each painting. Isn't that liberal?'
'Like Cosmo de Medici,' answered Rocjean; 'and I agree to the terms in every particular, especially as to putting the most work on it! There are four competitors—put down their names. Légume, you will come in, won't you?'
'Certainly I will, by Jing!' answered the French artist, who prided himself on his knowledge of English, especially the interjections.
'Then,' continued Rocjean, 'Caper, Bagswell, Légume, and I, will try for your five hundred dollar prize. When shall we commence?'
'To-day is Tuesday,' replied Uncle Bill; 'say next Monday—that will give you plenty of time to get your frames and canvases. So that ends all particulars. There are two friends of mine here from the United States, one, Mr. Van Brick, of New York, and the other, Mr. Pinchfip, of Philadelphia, whom I think you all met here last week.'
'The thin gentleman with hair very much brushed, be Gad?' asked Légume.
'I don't remember as to his hair,' answered Uncle Bill, 'but that's the man. Well, these two I know will act as vampires, and I am sure you will be pleased with their verdict. Monday after next, therefore, we will all call, so be ready.'
The four artists took the whole thing as a joke, but determined to paint the pictures; and at Caper's suggestion, each one agreed, as there was a play of words in the clause, 'most work on it,' to puzzle Uncle Bill, and have the laugh on him.
On the day appointed to decide the prize, Uncle Bill, accompanied by Messrs. Van Brick and Pinchfip, called first at Légume's studio; they found him in the Via Margutta, (in English, Malicious street,) in a light, airy room, furnished with a striking attention to effect. On his easel was a painting of the required size, representing Louis XV. at Versailles, surrounded by his lady friends. By making the figures of the ladies small, and crowding them, Légume managed to get a hundred or two on the canvas. A period in their history to which Frenchmen refer with so much pleasure, and with which they are so conversant, was treated by the artist with professional zeal. The merits of the painting were carefully canvassed by the two judges. Mr. Pinchfip found it exceedingly graceful, neat, and pretty. Mr. Van Brick admired the females, remarking that he should like to be in old Louis's place. To which Légume bowed, asserting that he was sure he was in every way qualified to fill it. Mr. Van Brick determined in his mind to give the artist a dinner, at Spillman's, for that speech.
Mr. Pinchfip took notes in a book; Mr. Van Brick asked for a light to a cigar. The former congratulated the artist; the latter at once asked him to come and dine with him. Mr. Pinchfip wished to know if he was related to the Count Légume whom he had met at Paris. Mr. Van Brick told him he would bring his friend Livingston round to buy a painting. Mr. Pinchfip said that it would afford him pleasure to call again. Mr. Van Brick gave the artist his card, and shook hands with him:…and the judges were passing out, when Légume asked them to take one final look at the painting to see if it had not the most work on it. Mr. Van Brick instantly turned toward it, and running over it with his eye, burst into an uncontrollable fit of laughter.
'If the others beat that, I am mistaken,' said he. 'Look at there!' calling the attention of Uncle Bill and Mr. Pinchfip to a fold of a curtain on which was painted, in small letters,
'I say, Browne,' continued Mr. Van Brick, 'he is too many for you; and if the one who puts 'most work' on his painting is to win the five hundred dollars, Légume's chance is good.'
'Very ingenious,' said Mr. Pinchfip, 'very; it is a legitimate play upon words. But legally, I can not affirm that I am aware of any precedent for awarding Mr. Browne's money to Monsieur Légume on this score.'
'We will have to make a precedent, then,' spoke Van Brick, 'and do it illegally, if we find that he deserves the money. But time flies, and we have the other artists to visit.'
They next went to Bagswell's studio, in the Viccolo dei Greci, and found him in a large room, well furnished, and having a solidly comfortable look; the walls ornamented with paintings, sketches, costumes, armor; while in a good light under its one large window, was his painting. They found he had left his beaten track of historical subjects, and in the genre school had an interior of an Italian country inn—a kitchen-scene. It represented a stout, handsome country girl, in Ciociara costume, kneading a large trough of dough, while another girl was filling pans with