Continental Monthly, Vol. I, No. V, May, 1862 by Various

V >> Various >> Continental Monthly, Vol. I, No. V, May, 1862

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While the wine circulated freely, the eldest, of the unmarried girls,
named Eliza, began joking Caper about his being a heretic and 'a little
devil,' and asked him to take off his hat, to see if he had horns. Caper
told her he was as yet unmarried, ... and that among the Indians,
bachelors were never allowed to take their hats off before maidens.
'But,' said he, 'what makes you think I am a heretic? Wasn't I at Saint
Peter's yesterday, and at the confessionals?'

'Yes, you were at them like an old German gentleman I once knew,' said
Eliza. 'Some of his friends saw him one morning at the German
confessional-box, and knowing that he was a heretic, asked him what he
was doing there? '_Diavolo!_' said he, 'can't a man have a comfortable
mouthful of German, without changing religions?''

'For my part,' said Rita, the youngest sister, 'I only go to
confessional, because I _have_ to, and I only confess what I want to.'

'Bravo!' exclaimed Rocjean, 'I must _paint your portrait_.'

'_Benissimo!_ and who will paint mine?' asked Eliza.

'I will,' said Caper, 'but on condition that you let me keep a copy of
it.'....

Arrangements completed, Rocjean ordered more wine; and then the artist
in leather ordered more; then Caper's turn came. After this, the
party--which had been gradually growing jolly and jollier, would have
danced, had they not all had a holy horror of the prison of San Angelo.
The married sister, Dominica, was a full-blooded _Trasteverina_, in her
gala dress, and had one of those beautiful-shaped heads that Caper could
only compare to a quail's; her jet-black hair, smoothed close to her
head, was gathered in a large roll that fell low on her neck behind, and
held by a silver _spadina_ or pin, that, if occasion demanded, would
make a serviceable stiletto; her full face was brown, while the red
blood shone through her cheeks, and her lips were full and ripe. Her
eyes of deep gray, shaded with long black lashes, sparkled with light
when she was aroused. Her sisters resembled her strikingly, except Rita,
the youngest, whose face was of that singularly delicate hue of white,
the color of the magnolia-flower, as one of our American writers has it;
or like the white of a boiled egg next to the yolk, as Caper expressed
it. Be this as it may, there was something very attractive in this
pallor, since it was accompanied by an _embonpoint_ indicating any thing
but romantic meagerness of constitution.

Dominica had, without exaggeration, the value of a dozen or two pairs of
patent-leather boots hung on her neck, arms, fingers, ears, and bosom,
in the shape of furious-sized pieces of gold jewelry; and it was solid
gold. The Roman women, from the earliest days--from the time when
Etruscan artists made those ponderous chains and bracelets down to this
present date--have had the most unbridled love for jewelry. Do we not
know[D] that--

Sabina's garters were worth,... $200,000
Faustina's finger-ring,... 200,000
Domitia'a ring,... 300,000
Caeesonia's bracelet,... 400,000
Poppaea's earrings,... 600,000
Calpurina's (Caesar's wife) earrings,
'above suspicion,'... 1,200,000
Sabina's diadem,... 1,200,000

And after this, is it at all astonishing that the desire remains for it,
even if the substance has been plundered and carried off by those
_forestieri_, the Huns, Vandals, Goths, Visigoths, Norsemen, and other
heretics who have visited Rome?

While they were all busily drinking and talking, Caper had noticed that
the wine was beginning to have its effects on the large crowd who had
assembled at the Osterias and Trattorias around the foot of the Bacchic
mountain. Laughing and talking, shouting and singing, began to be in the
ascendant, and gravity was voted indecent.

'Ha!' said Rocjean, 'for one hour of the good old classic days!'

'What!' answered Caper, 'with those seventy thousand old Jews you were
preaching about the other day?'

'Never!--with the Bacchante. But here our friends are off: let us help
them into the carriage.'

As the sun went down, the _minenti_ began to crowd toward Rome. More
than one _spadina_ flashed in the hands of the slightly-tight maidens
who were on foot. Those of the men who had carriages, foreseeing the
inflammable spirit aroused, packed the women in by themselves, gave them
lighted torches, and cut them adrift, to float down the Corso; they
following in separate carriages.

* * * * *

'Ah! really, and pray, Mrs. Jobson, don't you think that it's--ah! a
beautiful sight; they tell me--ah! it's the peasants returning from
visiting the shrine of the--ah! Madonna--ah?'

'And I think it is _most_ charming, Mister Lushington; and I remember me
now that Lady Fanny Errol, poor thing, said it would be a _charming_
sight. And the poor creatures seem _much_ happier than our own lower
orders; they do, to be sure.'

* * * * *

'O Lord!' groaned Caper, as he overheard the above dialogue, 'allow me
to retire.'

CAPER 'STARTS' A MENAGERIE.

As an animal-painter, Mr. Caper was continually hunting up materials for
sketches. He made excursions into the Campagna, to see the long-horned
gray oxen and the hideous buffaloes; watching the latter along the
yellow Tiber, when, in the spring-time, they coquetted in the mud and
water. He sketched goats and sheep, tended by the picturesquely-dressed
shepherds and guarded by the fierce dogs that continually encircled
them. In four words, he studied animal-ated nature.

On his first arrival in Rome, he had purchased one of those sprightly
little _vetturo_ dogs, all wool and tail, that the traveler remarks
mounted on top of the traveling carriages that enter and leave Rome.
With a firm foothold, they stand on the very top of all the baggage that
may be piled on the roof of the coach; and there, standing guard and
barking fiercely, seem to thoroughly enjoy the confusion attendant on
starting the horses or unloading the baggage. They are seen around the
carriage-stands where public hacks are hired, and as soon as one moves
off, up jumps the _vetturo_ dog alongside the driver, and never leaves
the vehicle until it stops; then, if he sees another hack returning to
the city, he will jump into that, and be carried back triumphant. This
sounds like fiction; but its truth will be confirmed by any one who has
ever noticed the peculiarities of this breed of dogs, which love to
ride.

Caper kept this dog in his studio, and had already made several very
life-like studies of him. One morning, leaving his lodgings earlier than
usual, he met on the stairway of his house a countryman driving a goat
up-stairs to be milked; the Romans thus having good evidence that when
they buy goat's milk, they don't purchase water from the fountains. As
Caper was going out of the door that led into the street, he saw among
the flock of goats assembled there, a patriarchal old Billy, whose beard
struck him with delight. He was looking at him in silent veneration,
when the goats'-milk man came down-stairs, driving the ewe before him.
He asked the man if he would sell the patriarch; but found that he would
not. He promised, however, to lend him to Caper until the next day, for
a good round sum, to be paid when the goat was delivered at the studio,
which the man said would be in the course of an hour.

Our artist then went down to the Greco, where he breakfasted; and there
met Rocjean, who proposed to him to go that morning to the Piazza
Navona, as it was market-day, and they would have a fine chance to take
notes of the country-people, their costumes, etc. They first went around
to Caper's studio, where they had only to wait a short time before the
milk-man came, driving the old Billy-goat up-stairs before him. Caper
made him fast with a cord to a heavy table, the top of which was a vast
receptacle of sketch-books, oil-colors, books, and all kinds of odds and
ends.

Rocjean and he then strolled down to the Piazza Navona, where, while
walking around, Caper suddenly stumbled over the smallest and most
comical specimen of a donkey he had ever seen. The man who owned him,
and who had brought in a load of vegetables on the donkey's back,
offered to sell him very cheap. The temptation was great, and our animal
artist bought him at once for five _scudi_, alias dollars; but with the
understanding that the countryman would deliver him at his studio at
once. In twenty minutes' time, the donkey was climbing up a long flight
of stairs to Caper's studio, as seriously as if he were crossing the
_pons asinorum_. Once in his studio, Caper soon made arrangements to
have the donkey kept in a stable near by, when he was not sketching him.
This matter finished, Rocjean helped Caper pen him up in a corner of the
studio, where he could begin sketching him as soon as he had finished
portraying the billy-goat. The patriarch had made several attempts to
rush at the vetturo-dog; but the string held him fast to the table.
Rocjean mentioned to Caper that he ought to feed his menagerie, and the
porter being called and sent out for some food for the goat and donkey,
soon returned with a full supply.

Both artists now set to work in earnest; Caper with paints and brushes,
and Rocjean with crayons and sketch-book, determined to take the
patriarch's portrait while he was in a peaceful frame of body and
spirit.

With an intermission for luncheon, they worked until nearly four o'clock
in the afternoon, when Rocjean proposed taking a walk out to the Villa
Borghese, and as they returned, on their way to dinner, they could stop
in at the studio, and see that the donkey and goat were driven out to
the stable, where they could be kept until wanted again. Accordingly,
both artists walked out to the villa, and had only taken a short turn
toward the Casino, when they met a New-York friend of theirs, alone in a
carriage, taking a ride. He ordered the driver to stop, and begged them
both to get in with him, and after passing through the villa and around
the Pincio, to come and take dinner with him sociably in his rooms in
the Via Frattina. They accepted; and at ten o'clock that night, while
going home in a very happy frame of mind, it suddenly occurred to Caper
that his menagerie ought to have been attended to. Rocjean consoled him
with the reflection that, having the key in his pocket, they could not
possibly get out; so the former thought no more about it.

Early in the morning, having met as usual at the Greco, and breakfasted
together, Caper and Rocjean walked round to the former's studio. Before
they entered the door of the building, they noticed a small assembly of
old women surrounding the porter, and as Caper entered the passage-way,
they poured a broadside into him.

'_Accidente, Signore_, nobody around here has been able to sleep a wink
all night long. _Santa Maria!_ such yells have come from your studio,
such groans, such horrible noises, as if all the devils had broken
loose. We are going to the police; we are going to the _gendarmeria_; we
are going to--'

'Go there--and be hanged!' shouted Caper, breaking through the crowd,
and running up-stairs two steps at a time, he nearly walked into the lap
of a tall female model, named Giacinta, dressed in Ciociara costume, who
was calmly seated on the stair-case, glaring at another female model,
named Nina, who stood leaning against the door of his studio.

'Signor Giacomo, good morning!' said Giacinta, 'didn't you tell _me_ to
be here at nine o'clock?'

'To be sure I did,' replied he.

'Then,' continued she, 'what is _that person_ there taking the bread out
of my mouth for? _Cospetto!_'

'_Iddio giusto!_' cried Nina, 'hear her; she calls _me_, ME, a person! I
who have a watch and chain, and wear a hooped petticoat! _I_ take the
bread out of her mouth. I a person! I'm a lady, _per Bacco!_'

'Tace!' said Rocjean to Nina, 'or the Signore Giacomo will send you
flying. What do you want, Nina?'

'I only wanted to see if the Signore intended to paint the Lady Godeeva,
that he told me about the other day.'

'Wait till I open the studio-door, and get out of this noise. Those old
women down below, and you young ones up here, are howling like a lot of
hyenas. Here, come in!' ... As Caper said this, he unlocked the
studio-door and threw it open; the two models were close at his elbows,
while Rocjean drew to one side to let them pass in.

In the next minute, Caper, the two models, a he-goat, a dirty little
donkey, and a yelping dog, were rolling head over heels down-stairs, one
confused mass of petticoats and animals.

Rocjean roared with laughter; he could do nothing but hold his sides,
fearful of having an apopletic fit or bursting a blood-vessel.

The small donkey slid down-stairs on his back, slowly, gradually,
meekly; his long ears rubbing the way before him. But the billy-goat was
on his feet in an instant, and was charging, next thing, full force into
the knot of old women at the foot of the stairs, who, believing that
their last hour had come, and that it was old Nick in person, yelled
out,' 'Tis he; the devil! the devil!' and fled before the horns to come.

Giacinta was the first one on her legs, and after picking up the _caro_
Giacomo, _alias_ Caper, and finding he was not hurt, she then
good-naturedly helped Nina to arrange her tumbled garments.

Rocjean rushed to open the studio-windows, to air the room, for it had
not the odors of the Spice Islands in it. Caper hastened to pick up
paints, brushes, books, easel; but they were too many for him, and at
last, giving it up in despair, he sat down on a chair.

'_Well!_' said he, 'there _has_ been a HARD fight here! The dog must
have tackled the billy-goat; the goat must have upset this table, broken
his string, and pitched into that dirty little donkey; and the donkey
must have put his heels through that canvas; and all three must have
broken loose and upset us ... I say, Rocjean, send out for some wine;
_I_ am dry, and these girls are, I know.'

Peace was soon made. Nina was promised that she should sit for Lady
Godiva, as soon as the donkey was caught; for she was to be represented
seated on him instead of a horse. Giacinta posed for a _contadina_ at a
fountain. Rocjean passed round the wine, and helped put the studio in
order; and Caper, brush in hand, painted away, determining that under
any circumstances, he never would open another menagerie, until he was
able to pay a keeper to look after the animals.

* * * * *

FAIRIES.

Our fathers, when the race was young,
And therefore some say better,
With fresh simplicity, believed
In Dryad, Faun, and Satyr.
The Zephyrs breathed throughout the air,
And when the scene was fitting,
The Naiads combed their golden hair,
Beside the waters sitting.

And we ourselves in childhood loved
A faith so sweet as this is;
We felt the touch of rose-leaf palms,
And almost felt their kisses:
We tracked them through the shadowy grass,
Or when the evening glistened,
We lay in wait to see them pass,
And to their singing listened.

The hawthorn stretches wide its arms,
And all the woods are fragrant,
But Fancy walks in high-heeled shoes,
And is no more a vagrant.
No Satyrs from the greenwood peer,
No more we see at gloaming,
The Naiads sit, their golden hair
Beside the waters combing.

Alas! our early faith is cold,
And all things are so real!
Now, grown too wise, we shut our eyes,
And laugh at the ideal.
The charmed dusk still settles down
Upon the happy prairies;
But twilight's chiefest charm is flown,
For where are now the fairies?

* * * * *

JOHN BRIGHT.

The late misunderstanding between this country and Great Britain,
relative to Mason and Slidell, elicited a free expression of opinion
from the statesmen of the mother country, as to the contest now
proceeding in this country; and while we regretted to witness so many
proofs of the prejudice and jealousy which seem to hold possession of
the minds of our transatlantic cousins, we were gratified by the heroic
and brilliant defense of our cause by one so eminent in intellectual and
moral qualities as JOHN BRIGHT. The boldness and vigor of his efforts to
dispel the hostility of his compatriots toward America, and the masterly
ability with which he disarmed the weapons of our opponents, elicited
the respect of our people and have made his name one of veneration among
them. His position in our favor, amid the many discouragements which
beset him, justifies an attempt to lay before our readers an account of
his career and character, which, we doubt not, they will be interested
to hear.

John Bright, Member of Parliament for the great city of Birmingham, is
the son of respectable Quaker parents, and was born at Greenbank, near
Rochdale, in the year 1811. His family being largely interested in the
cotton manufacture, he was bred to a participation in this employment,
and is now the senior member of an extensive and enterprising firm, in
company with his brothers. It is hardly to be expected that one whose
early youth had been devoted to the restricted sphere of a
counting-room, would be remarkable for an extensive knowledge of men and
events, liberal opinions, freshness of intellect, and vigorous
brilliancy of declamation; and yet Mr. Bright has always manifested
superiority in these qualities. Known, while occupied exclusively in the
details of his proper avocation, for skill, promptness, and enterprise,
he has also been distinguished, since his sphere of usefulness has been
extended to the national councils, for the scope and accuracy of his
general information, the comprehensiveness of his mind, the richness of
his imagination, and the effective energy of his eloquence. He early
manifested an interest in politics, which was intensified by the
agitation of questions nearly affecting his own business interests. The
celebrated Anti-Corn-Law League, which was instituted in the time of
Lord Melbourne's ministry, by some eminent Whigs, for the purpose of
opposing the tariff erected by the corn-laws, excited his enthusiastic
cooeperation, and afforded him an early opportunity of entering political
life. The enlightened ideas of the Reformers had already effected a
glorious renovation in the machinery of the government; and the
regeneration of the commercial system was next to be accomplished, by a
successful resistance to the selfish restrictions imposed upon trade by
the landed proprietors. In such a cause, John Bright embarked in his
twenty-seventh year; and his subsequent career has been a consistent
adherence to the same views which marked his entrance into public
notice. He espoused with ardor the principles avowed by the League, and
leaving the management of his private interests in the hands of the
junior members of the firm, began to discuss them publicly, with great
force and effect. The League soon perceived the valuable acquisition
they had made in the young Quaker, and not only encouraged him to
exertion but gave him opportunities to appear before many important
assemblages. On the list of orators whom the League commissioned to go
into the agricultural districts to advocate their cause, Mr. Bright's
name soon became prominent. By the irresistible cogency and energetic
expression which characterized his speech before many thousands in Drury
Lane Theatre, his reputation became national, and printed copies being
distributed throughout England, a desire to hear him on the important
question of the day became every where manifest. He went about among the
farmers and gentry, instilling with ability the principles of free
trade, developing arguments with telling effect, and rapidly organizing
branches of the League throughout the kingdom. The distrust of the lower
classes, which was awakened in some degree against the nobles and nabobs
who sustained the League, did not operate against him, who, as a man
directly from the people, educated in the stern school of labor, and as
the daily witness of and sympathizer with the suffering of the poor, at
once elicited their confidence in his honesty and their respect for his
intellectual power. Political advantage, which might be sought by
life-long politicians and hereditary nobles, could, they well knew,
offer no inducement to nor corrupt the ingenuous principles of one who
showed so little respect to party distinction, and who was entirely
independent of great connections.

The statesmen with whom he acted, in favor of free trade, were unwilling
to be without so valuable an ally on the floor of the House of Commons;
and, in April, 1843, he was placed in nomination by his numerous friends
at Durham, for the seat to which that city was entitled.

On the first trial, he was defeated; but a new election for the same
city becoming necessary in the following July, he was returned, by a
gratifying majority, to represent a place noted for its conservative
proclivities. He continued the member for Durham until 1847.

His first efforts, after entering Parliament, were directed to the
repeal of the Corn-Laws, in which beneficent measure he cooeperated with
such men as Charles P. Villiers, brother of Lord Clarendon, Lord
Morpeth, now Earl of Carlisle, Lord John Russell, and his friend, Mr.
Richard Cobden. Sir Robert Peel, who was at that time Prime Minister,
had always adhered to the protective doctrines of Pitt and Wellington;
and it was mainly due to the clear and cogent reasoning of Bright and
his associates, that the illustrious statesman at the head of the
Treasury finally yielded, with a magnanimity never surpassed in the
annals of ministerial history, to the enlightened policy of free trade
in respect to corn. The distress which had for years resulted from the
stringent enactments of Lord Liverpool's government to the lower class,
was, by this patriotic sacrifice of the first minister, done away with;
and not least among those who contributed to the accomplishment of so
auspicious a result, we must reckon the subject of this sketch. The Tory
party, headed by such chiefs as Wellington and Lyndhurst, in the Lords,
and Stanley and Disraeli, in the Commons, made a stern and pertinacious
resistance to the repeal; and no one was more feared by the intellectual
giants of that party than was Bright. His severe wit, his plain, blunt
manner of exposing the defects of his opponents, and his impulsive and
overwhelming declamation, were hardly exceeded by the fluent exuberance
of Stanley and the keen sarcasm of the Hebrew novelist, Disraeli.

While he generally acted with the party of which Lord Russell and Lord
Landsdowne were the chiefs, he did not place himself supinely under the
dictation of the caucus-room. Professing to be bound by the precepts of
no faction, acting frequently with the conservatives, although oftener
with the liberals, independent of ministerial control, and disdaining to
attain power by the sacrifice of any principle, he was excluded from a
participation in the government, when those with whom he in general
sympathized succeeded to the administration in 1846. He early adopted
ultra-liberal views, and has always been known as the advocate of
universal suffrage, the separation of Church and State, and the
diminution of the influence of hereditary nobles; and although he could
not but be aware that many of his doctrines were repugnant to those of
his auditors, and a majority of his countrymen, he has not hesitated to
uphold and express them with great perseverance and ingenuousness.

Had he lived in the days of Russell and Sidney, he had perhaps shared
their fate, and paid the penalty of unpopular politics on the scaffold.
That bold spirit which he has ever manifested, exciting his great
talents in the advocacy of repugnant theories, would not have feared the
restraints which a ruder age encouraged despotic kings to put upon
freedom of political action. Luckily, he has been living in an age which
respects independent thought and proscribes the conscience of no man.
While he is certainly premature in his theories of equality, the
tendency of popular feeling is toward him rather than from him. Tory
policy to-day was Whig policy a century ago. Walpole would have
sustained the younger Pitt, and Derby and Lyndhurst will hardly dispute
the benefits of the reform of 1832.

Mr. Bright was returned to Parliament for Manchester, in 1847, and again
in 1852. This great town, which is the market for Rochdale, and
consequently in which he was well known, sent him to the Commons by a
handsome majority of eleven hundred. In the early session of 1857, Mr.
Cobden introduced a motion condemning the war into which the
administration had entered with China, on which the government was
defeated. Mr. Bright, though absent on account of ill-health, used his
influence in favor of the motion, by reason of which, on the appeal of
Lord Palmerston to the country, during the summer of that year, he was
defeated in his constituency by over five thousand votes; his successful
opponent, though agreeing with him in general, being a supporter of the
Chinese war.

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