Continental Monthly Volume 1 Issue 3 by Various

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This was the section which they selected for their homes, distant some
eighty-five miles from New York, along the west shores of the Hudson,
and extending from six to ten miles in the interior. It was called _New
Paltz_, and its patent obtained from Gov. Andreas; twelve of their
brethren were religiously selected by the emigrants as the _Patentees_,
and known by the appellation of the '_Duzine_,' or the twelve patentees,
and these were regarded as the patriarchs in this little Christian
community. A list of the original purchasers has been preserved, and
were as follows: Louis Dubois, Christian Dian, since Walter Deyo,
Abraham Asbroucq, now spelt Hasbrouck, Andros Le Fever, often Le Febre
and Le Febore, John Brook, said to have been changed into Hasbrouck,
Peter Dian, or Deyo, Louis Bevier, Anthony Cuspell, Abraham Du Bois,
Hugo Freir, Isaac Dubois, Simon Le Fever.

A copy of this agreement with the Indians still exists, and the
antiquarian may find it among the State records at Albany. It is a
curious document, with the signatures of both parties, the patentees'
written in the antique French character, with the hieroglyphic marks of
the Indians. A few Indian goods--kettles, axes, beads, bars of lead,
powder, casks of wine, blankets, needles, awls, and a 'clean
pipe'--were the insignificant articles given, about two centuries ago,
for these lands, now proverbially rich, and worth millions of dollars.
The treaty was mutually executed, according to the records from which we
quote, on the 20th of May, 1677.

The patentees immediately took possession of their newly-acquired
property, their first conveyances being three wagons, which would be
rare curiosities in our day. The wheels were very low, shaped like
old-fashioned spinning-wheels, with short spokes, wide rim, and without
any iron. The settlers were three days on their way from Kingston to New
Paltz, a distance of only sixteen miles. The place of their first
encampment is still known by the name of '_Tri Cor_,' or three cars, in
honor of these earliest conveyances. Soon, however, they selected a more
elevated site, on the banks of the beautiful Walkill, where the village
now stands. Log houses were erected not far apart, for mutual defence,
and afterwards stone edifices, with port-holes, some of which still
remain.

* * * * *

MACCARONI AND CANVAS.

INTRODUCTION.

Rome is the cradle of art,--which accounts for its sleeping there.

Nature, however, is nowhere more wide awake than it is in and around
this city: therefore, Mr. James Caper, animal painter, determined to
repose there for several months.

The following sketches correctly describe his Roman life.

ARRIVAL IN ROME.

It was on an Autumn night that the traveling carriage in which sat James
Caper arrived in Rome; and as he drove through that fine street, the
Corso, he saw coming towards him a two-horse open carriage, filled with
Roman girls of the working class (_minenti_). Dressed in their
picturesque costumes, bonnetless, their black hair tressed with flowers,
they stood up, waving torches, and singing in full voice one of those
songs in which you can go but few feet, metrically speaking, without
meeting _amore_. And then another and another carriage, with flashing
torches and sparkling-eyed girls. It was one of the turnouts of the
_minenti_; they had been to Monte Testaccio, had drank all the wine they
could pay for; and, with a prudence our friend Caper could not
sufficiently admire, he noticed that the women were in separate
carriages from the men. It was the Feast Day of Saint Crispin, and all
the cobblers, or artists in leather, as they call themselves, were
keeping it up bravely.

'Eight days to make a pair of shoes?' he once asked a shoemaker. 'Si,
Signore, there are three holidays in that time.' Argument unanswerable.

As the carriages rolled by, Caper determined to observe the festivals.

The next day our artist entered his name in his banker's register, and
had the horror of seeing it mangled to 'Jams Scraper' in the list of
arrivals published in the _Giornale di Roma_. For some time after his
arrival in Rome, he was pained to receive cards, circulars, notices,
letters, advertisements, etc., from divers tradesmen, all directed to
the above name. In revenge, he here gives them a public airing. One firm
announces,--

'Manafactury of Remain Seltings, Mosaiques, Cameas, Medalls, Erasofines,
&c.' (Erasofines is the Roman-English for crucifixes.) And on a slip of
paper, handsomely printed, is an announcement that they make 'Romain
Perles of all Couloueurs'--there's color for you!

A tailor, under the head of '_Ici un parle Francais_,' prints, 'Merchant
_and_ tailor. Cloths (clothes?) Reddy maid, Mercery Roman; Scarfs, etc.'

Another, 'Roman Artickles Manofactorer'--hopes to be 'honnoured with our
Custom, (American?), and flaters himsself we will find things to our
likings.' Everything but the English, you know--that is not exactly to
our liking. Another, from a lady, reads,--

_A VENTRE!_

_une Galerie decomposee de 300 d'Anciens Maitres, et de l'ecole romaine
peintres sur bois, sur cuivre et sur toit, &c._

_Ventre_ for _Vendre_ is bad enough, but a 'gallery of decomposed old
masters and of Roman school painters on wood and on the roof,' when it
was intended to say 'A gallery composed of 300 of the old masters--' But
let us leave it untranslated; it is already _decomposee_.

A SHORT WALK.

Mr. Caper having indignantly rejected the services of all professors of
the guiding art or 'commissionaires,' slowly sauntered out of his hotel
the morning after his arrival, and, map in hand, made his way to the
tower on the Capitoline Hill. Threading several narrow, dirty streets,
he at last went through one where in one spot there was such a heap of
garbage and broccoli stumps that he raised his eyes to see how high up
it reached against the walls of a palace; and there read, in black
letters,

_Immondezzaio_;

literally translated, A Place for Dirt. On the opposite wall, which was
the side of a church, he saw a number of black placards on which were
large white skulls and crossbones, and while examining these, a
bare-headed, brown-bearded, stout Franciscan monk passed him. From a
passing glance, Caper saw he looked good-natured, and so, hailing him,
asked why the skulls and bones were pasted there.

'Who knows?' answered the monk. 'I came this morning from the Campagna;
this is the first time in all my life I have been in this magnificent
city.'

'Can you tell me what that word means up there?' said Caper, pointing to
_immondezzaio_.

'Signore, I can not read.'

'Perhaps it is the name of the street, maybe of the city?'

'It must be so,' answered the priest, 'unless it's a sign of a lottery
office, or a caution against blasphemy up and down the pavement. Those
are the only signs we have in the country, except the government salt
and cigar shops.' ... He took a snuff-box from a pocket in his sleeve,
and with a bow offered a pinch to Mr. Caper. This accepted, they bid
each other profoundly farewell.

'There goes a brick!' remarked the traveler.

Arrived at the entrance-door to the tower of the Capitoline Hill, James
Caper first felt in one pocket for a silver piece and in the other for a
match-box, and finding them both there, rang the bell, and then mounted
to the top of the tower. Lighting a _zigarro scelto_ or papal cigar, he
leaned on both elbows on the parapet, and gazed long and fixedly over
the seven-hilled city.

'And this,' soliloquized he, _is_ Rome. Many a day have I been kept in
school without my dinner because I was not able to parse thee idly by,
_Roma_--Rome--noun of the first declension, feminine gender, that a
quarter of a century ago caused me punishment, I have thee now literally
under foot, and (knocking his cigar) throw ashes on thy head.

'My mission in this great city is not that of a picture-peddler or art
student. I come to investigate the eating, drinking, sleeping
arrangements of the Eternal City--its wine more than its vinegar, its
pretty girls more than its galleries, its _cafes_ more than its
churches. I see from here that I have a fine field to work in. Down
there, clambering over the fallen ruins of the Palace of the Caesars, is
a donkey. Could one have a finer opportunity to see in this a moral and
twist a tail? From those fallen stones, Memory-glorious old
architect--rears a fabric wondrously beautiful; peoples it with eidolons
white and purple-robed, and gleaming jewel-gemmed; or, iron armed,
glistening with flashing light from polished steel--heroes and slaves,
conquerors and conquered; my blood no longer flows to the slow, jerking
measure of a nineteenth-century piece of mechanism, but freely, fully,
and completely. Hurrah, my blood is up! dark, liquid eyes; black,
flowing locks; strange, pleasing perfumes are around me. There is a rush
as of a strong south wind through a myriad of floating banners, and I am
borne onward through triumphal arches, past pillared temples, under the
walls of shining palaces, into the Coliseum....

'Pray, and can you tell me--if that pile of d----d old rubbish--down
there, you know--is the Forum--for I do not--see it in Murray--though
I'm sure--I have looked very clearly--and Murray you know--has
everything down in him--that a traveler....

'A commercial traveler?' ... interrupted Mr. Caper, speaking slowly, and
looking coolly into the eyes of the blackguard Bagman.... 'The ruins you
see there are those of the Forum. Good morning.'

MODERN ART.

'Lucrezia Borgia at the Tomb of Don Giovanni! You see,' said the artist,
'I have chosen a good name for my painting, ... and it's a great point
gained. Forty or fifty years ago, some of those fluffy old painters
would have had Venus worshiping at the shrine of Bacchus.'

'Whereas, you think it would be more appropriate for her to worship
Giove?' ... asked Capar.

'No _sir_!... I run dead against classic art: it's a drug. I tried my
hand at it when I first came to Rome. Will you believe me, I never sold
a picture. Why that very painting'--pointing to the Borgia--'is on a
canvas on which I commenced The Subjugation of Adonis.'

'H'm! You find the class of Middle Age subjects most salable then?'

'I should think I did. Something with brilliant colors, stained glass
windows, armor, and all that, sells well. The only trouble is,
ultramarine costs dear, although Dovizzelli's is good and goes a great
ways. I sold a picture to an Ohio man last week for two hundred dollars,
and it is a positive fact there was twenty _scudi_ (dollars) worth of
blue in it. But the infernal Italians spoil trade here. Why, that fellow
who paints Guide's Speranzas up there at San Pietro in Vineulo is as
smart as a Yankee. He has found out that Americans from Rhode Island
take to the Speranza, because Hope is the motto of their State, and he
turns out copies hand over fist. He has a stencil plate of the face, and
three or four fellows to paint for him; one does the features of the
face, another the hand, and another rushes in the background. Why, sir,
those paintings can be sold for five _scudi_, and money made on them at
that. But then what are they? Wretched daubs not worth house-room. Have
you any thoughts of purchasing paintings?'

Caper smiled gently.... 'I had not when I first came to Rome, but how
long I may continue to think so is doubtful. The temptations' (glancing
at the Borgia) 'are very great.' ...

'Rome,' ... interrupted the artist, ... 'is the cradle of art.'

A ROOM HUNT.

Caper, on his first arrival in Home, went to the Hotel Europe, in the
Piazza di Spagna. There for two weeks he lived like a _milordo_. He
formed many acquaintances among the resident colony of American artists,
and was received by them with much kindness. Some of the mercenary ones
of their number, having formed the opinion that he came there to buy
paintings, ignorant of his profession, were excessively polite;--but
their offers of services were declined. When Caper finally moved to
private lodgings in Babuino Street and opened a studio, hope for a
season bade these salesmen all farewell; they groaned, and owned that
they had tried but could not sell.

Among the acquaintances formed by Caper, was a French artist named
Rocjean. Born in France, he had passed eight or ten years in the United
States, learned to speak English very well, and was residing in Rome 'to
perfect himself as an artist.' He had, when Caper first met him, been
there two years. In all this time he had never entered the Vatican, and
having been told that Michael Angelo's Last Judgment was found to have a
flaw in it, he had been waiting for repairs before passing his opinion
thereon. On the other hand, he had studied the Roman _plebe_, the
people, with all his might. He knew how they slept, eat, drank, loved,
made their little economies, clothed themselves, and, above all, how
they blackguarded each other. When Caper mentioned to him that he wished
to leave his hotel, take a studio and private lodgings, then Rocjean
expanded from an old owl into a spread eagle. Hurriedly taking Caper by
the arm, he rushed him from one end of Rome to the other, up one
staircase and down another; until, at last, finding out that Rocjean
invariably presented him to fat, fair, jolly-looking landladies
(_padrone_), with the remark, 'Signora, the Signor is an Englishman and
very wealthy,' he began to believe that something was wrong. But Rocjean
assured him that it was not--that, as in Paris, it was Madame who
attended to renting rooms, so it was the _padrona_ in Rome, and that the
remark, 'he is an Englishman, and very wealthy,' were synonymous, and
always went together. 'If I were to tell them you were an American it
would do just as well--in fact, better, but for one thing, and that is,
you would be swindled twice as much. The expression "and very wealthy,"
attached to the name of an Englishman, is only a delicate piece of
flattery, for the majority of the present race of traveling English are
by no means lavish in their expenditures or very wealthy. In taking you
to see all these pretty women, I have undoubtedly given you pleasure, at
the same time I have gratified a little innocent curiosity of mine:--but
then the chance is such a good one! We will now visit the Countess ----,
for she has a very desirable apartment to let; after which we will
proceed seriously to take rooms with a home-ly view.'

The Countess ---- was a very lovely woman, consequently Caper was
fascinated with the apartment, and told her he would reflect over it.

'Right,' said Rocjean, after they had left; 'better reflect over it than
in it--as the enormous draught up chimney would in a short time compel
you to.'

'How so?'

'I have a German friend who has rooms there. He tells me that a cord of
firewood lasts about long enough to warm one side of him; when he turns
to warm the other it is gone. He has lived there three years reflecting
over this; the Countess occasionally condoles with him over the draught
of that chimney.'

'H'm! Let us go to the homely: better a drawn sword than a draught.'

They found a homely landlady with neat rooms in the via Babuino, and
having bargained for them for twelve _scudi_ a month, their labors were
over.

MACCARONICAL.

There was, when Caper first came to Rome, an eating-house, nearly
opposite the fountain Trevi, called the Gabioni. It was underground,--in
fact, a series of cellars, popularly conjectured to have been part of
the catacombs. In one of these cellars, resembling with its arched roof
a tunnel, the ceiling so low that you could touch the apex of the round
arch with your hand, every afternoon in autumn and winter, between the
hours of five and six, there assembled, by mutual consent, eight or ten
artists. The table at which they sat would hold no more, and they did
not want it to. Two waiters attended them, Giovanni for food, Santi for
wine and cigars. The long-stemmed Roman lamps of burnished brass, the
bowl that held the oil and wicks resembling the united prows of four
vessels, shedding their light on the white cloth and white walls, made
the old place cheerful. The white and red wine in the thin glass flasks
gleamed brightly, and the food was well cooked and wholesome. Here in
early winter came the sellers of 'sweet olives,' as they called them,
and for two or three cents (_baiocchi_) you could buy a plateful. These
olives were green, and, having been soaked in lime-water, the bitter
taste was taken from them, and they had the flavor of almonds.

But the maccaroni was the great dish in the Gabioni; a four-cent plate
of it would take the sharp edge from a fierce appetite, assisted as it
was by a large one-cent roll of bread. There was the white pipe-stem and
the dark ribbon (_fettucia_) species; and it was cooked with sauce (_al
sugo_), with cheese, Neapolitan, Roman and Milan fashion,
and--otherways. Wild boar steaks came in winter, and were cheap. Veal
never being sold in Rome until the calf is a two-year-old heifer, was no
longer veal, but tender beef, and was eatable. Sardines fried in oil and
batter were good. Game was plenty, and very reasonable in price, except
venison, which was scarce. The average cost of a substantial dinner was
from thirty to forty baiocchi, and said Rocjean, 'I can live like a
prince--like the Prince B----, who dines here occasionally--for half
that sum.'

The first day Caper dined in the Gabioni, what with a dog-fight under
the table, cats jumping upon the table, a distressed marchioness (fact)
begging him for a small sum, a beautiful girl from the Trastevere,
shining like a patent-leather boot, with gold ear-rings, and brooch, and
necklace, and coral beads, who sat at another table with a French
soldier--these and those other little _piquante_ things, that the
traveler learns to smile at and endure, worried him. But the dinner was
good, his companions at table were companionable, and as he finished an
extra _foglietta_ (pint) of wine, price eight cents, with Rocjean, he
concluded to give it another trial. He kept at giving it trials until
the old Gabioni was closed, and from it arose the Four Nations or
Quattre Nazione in Turkey Cock Alley (_viccolo Gallmaccio_), which, as
any one knows, is near Two Murderers' Street. (_Via Due Macelli_)

'Now that we have finished dinner,' spoke Rocjean, 'we will smoke: then
to the Caffe or Cafe Greco and have our cup of black coffee.'

AMERICA IN ROME.

It may be a good thing to have the conceit taken out of us--but not by
the corkscrew of ignorance; the operation is too painful. Caper, proud
of his country, and believing her in the front rank of nations, was
destined to learn, while in Rome and the Papal States, that America was
geographically unknown.

He consoled himself for this with the fact that geography is not taught
in the 'Elementary Schools' there;--and for the people there are no
others.

The following translation of a notice advertising for a schoolmaster,
copied from the walls of a palace where it was posted, shows the sum
total taught in the common schools:--

The duties of the Master are to teach Reading, Writing, the First
Four Rules of Arithmetic; to observe the duties prescribed in the
law '_Quod divina sapientia_;' and to be subject to the biennial
committee like other salaried officers of the department; as an
equivalent for which he shall enjoy (_godra_) an annual salary of
$60, payable in monthly shares.

(Signed)

IL GONFALONIERE ---- ----.

But what can you expect when one of the rulers of the land asserted to
Caper that he knew that 'pop-corn grew in America on the banks of the
Nile, after the water went down,--for it never rains in America'?

It was a handsome man, an advocate for Prince Doria, who, once traveling
in a _vetturo_ with Caper, asked him why he did not go to America by
land, since he knew that it was in the south of England; and gently
corrected a companion of his, who told Caper he had read and thought it
strange that all Americans lived in holes in the ground, by saying to
him that if such houses were agreeable to the _Signori Americani_ they
had every right to inhabit them.

The landlord of a hotel in a town about thirty miles from Rome asked
Caper if, when he returned to New York, he would not some morning call
and see his cousin--in Peru!

This same landlord once drew his knife on a man, when, accompanied by
Caper, he went to observe a saint's day in a neighboring town. The cause
of the quarrel was this--the landlord, having been asked by a man who
Caper was, told him he was an American. The man asserted that Americans
always wore long feathers in their hair, and that he did not see any on
Caper's head. The landlord, determined to stand by Caper, swore by all
the saints that they were under his hat. The man disbelieved it. Out
came the 'hardware' with that jarring cr-r-r-rick the blade makes when
the notched knife-back catches in the spring, but Caper jumped between
them, and they put off stabbing one another--until the next saint's day.

It was with pleasure that Caper, passing down the Corso one morning, saw
there was an Universal Panorama, including views of America, advertised
to be exhibited in the Piazza Colonna. 'Here is an opportunity,' thought
he, 'for the Romans to acquire some knowledge of a land touching which
they are very much at sea. The views undoubtedly will do for them what
the tabooed geographies are not allowed to do--give them a little
education to slow music.'

Accompanied by Rocjean, he went one evening to see it, and found it on
wheels in a traveling van, drawn up at one side of the Colonna Square.

'Hawks inspected it the other evening,' said Rocjean; 'and he describes
it as well worth seeing. The explainer of the Universal Panorama
resembles the wandering Jew, exactly, with perhaps a difference about
the change in his pockets; and the paintings, comical enough in
themselves, considering that they are supposed to be serious likenesses
of the places represented, are made still funnier by the explanations of
the manager.'

Securing tickets from a stout, showy ticket-seller, adorned with a
stunning silk dress, crushing bracelets, and an overpowering bonnet,
they subduedly entered a room twenty feet long by six or eight wide,
illuminated with the mellow glow of what appeared to be about thirty
moons. The first things that caught their eye were several French
soldiers who were acting as inspection guard over several rooms, having
stacked their muskets in one corner. Their exclamations of delight or
sorrow, their criticisms of the art panoramic, in short, were full of
humor and trenchant fun. But 'the explanator' was before them; where he
came from they could not see, for his footsteps were light as velvet,
evidently having 'gums' on his feet; his milk-white hair, parted in the
middle of his forehead, hung down his back for a couple of feet, while
his milk-white beard, hanging equally low in front, gave him the
appearance of a venerable billy goat. He was an Albino, and his eyes
kept blinking like a white owl's at mid-day. He had a voice slightly
tremulous, and mild as a cat's in a dairy.

'Gen-till-men, do me the playshure to gaze within this first hole. 'Tis
the be-yu-ti-fool land of Sweet-sir-land. Vi-yew from the some-mut of
the Riggy Cool'm. Day break-in' in the dis-tant yeast. He has a blan-kit
round him, sir; for it is cold upon the moun-tin tops at break of day.
[Madame, the stupen-doss irrup-tion of Ve-soov-yus is two holes from the
corner.]

'Gen-till-men, do me the play-zure to gaze upon the second hole. 'Tis
Flor-renz the be-yu-ti-fool, be the bangs off the flowin' Arno. 'Twas
here that--'

'No matter about all that,' said Caper; 'show off America to us.' He
slipped a couple of _pauls_ into his hand, and instantly the Venerable
skipped four moons.

'Gen-till-men, do me the play-zure to gaze upon this hole. 'Tis the
be-yu-ti-fool city of Nuova Jorck in Ay-mer-i-kay, with the
flour-ish-ing cities of Brook-lyn, Nuova Jer-sais, and Long Is-lad. The
impo-sing struc-ture of rotund form is the Gr-rand Coun-cill Hall
con-tain-ing the coun-cill chamber of the Amer-i-can nations.... [You
say it is the Bat-tai-ree? It may be the Bat-tai-ree.] _What is that
road in Broo-klin_? that is the ra'l-road to Nuova Or-lins di-rect.
_What is that wash-tub_? "Tis not a wash-tub--'tis a stim-boat. They
make the stim out of coal, which is found on the ground. _Is that the
Ay-mer-i-cain eagill_? 'Tis not; 'tis a hoarse-fly which has
in-tro-doo-ced hisself behind the glass. _Are those savages in Nuova
Jer-sais_? (New Jersey.) Those are trees.'

'Pass on, illustrious gen-till-men, to the next hole. 'Tis the
be-yu-ti-fool city of Filadelfia. The houses here are all built of
woo-ood. The two rivaires that cir-cum-vent the city are the Lavar
(Delaware?) and the Hud-soon. I do not know what is "a pum-king cart,"
but the car-riage which you see before you is a fi-ah engine, be-cause
the city is all built of woo-ood. The tall stee-ple belongs to the
kay-ker (Quaker) temple of San Cristo.'

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