XXXIII. IN WHICH MRS. CLive Newcome's Carriage is ORDERED 363 BELISARIUS XXXV. IN WHICH BELISARIUS RETURNS FROM EXILE XXXVII. XXXVIII. XXXIX. 374 433 XLII. IN WHICH THE COLONEL SAYS "ADSUM" WHEN HIS NAME THE SHORTEST AND HAPPIEST IN THE WHOLE HISTORY SENTENCE IN the Case of the MarqUIS OF FARINTOSH MR. FREDERICK BAYHAM "SIR BARNES NEWCOME ON THE AFFECTIONS simplicity of the student's life there, the greatness and friendly splendour of the scenes surrounding him, the delightful nature of the occupation in which he is engaged, the pleasant company of comrades inspired by a like pleasure over a similar calling, the labour, the meditation, the holiday and the kindly feast afterwards, should make the art-students the happiest of youth, did they but know their good fortune. Their work is, for the most part, delightfully easy. It does not exercise the brain too much, but gently occupies it, and with a subject most agreeable to the scholar. The mere poetic flame, or jet of invention, needs to be lighted up but very seldom, namely, when the young painter is devising his subject, or settling the com position thereof.. The posing of figures and drapery; the dexterous VOL. II. 30 copying of the line; the artful processes of cross-hatching, of stumping, of laying on lights, and, what not; the arrangement. of colour, and the pleasing operations of glazing and, the. Hk are labours for the most part merely manual. These, with the smoking of a proper number of pipes, carry, the student through his day's work., If you pass his door you will very probably hear him singing at his easel. I should like to know what young lawyer, mathematician, or divinity scholar, can sing. over his volumes, and at the same time advance with his labour? In every city where Art is practised there are oft gentlemen who never touched a pencil in, their lives, but find the occupation and company of artists so agrees able that they are never out of the studios; follow one generation of painters after another sit by with perfect contentment while Jack is drawing his pifferaro, or Tom designing his cartoon, and years afterwards, when Jack is established in. Newman Street, and Tom a Royal Academician, shall still be found in their rophis; occupied now by fresh painters and pictures, telling the youngsters, their successors, what glorious fellows. Jack and Tom were. A poet must retire to privy places and meditate his rhymes in secret; a painter can practise his trade in the company of friends. Your splendid chef d'école, a Rubens or a Horace Vernet, may, sit with a secretary reading to him; a troop of admiring scholars watching the master hand;, or a company of court ladies and gentlemen (to whom he addresses a few kind words now and again) looking on admiringly; whilst the humblest painter, be he ever so poor, may have a friend watching at. his easel, or a gentle wife sitting by with her work in her lap, and with fond smiles, or talk or silence; cheering his labour. Amongst all ranks and degrees of painters assembled at Rome, Mr. Clive found companions and friends. The cleverest man was not the best artist very often the ablest artist not the best critic nor the best companion. Many a man could give no account of the faculty within him, but achieved success because he could not help. it; and did, in an hour and without effort, that which another could not effect with half a life's labour. There were young sculptors who had never read a line of Homer, who took on themselves,. never theless, to interpret and continue the heroic Greek art. There were young painters with the strongest natural taste for low humour, comic singing, and Cyder-Cellar jollifications, who would imitate nothing under Michael Angelo, and whose canvases teemed with tremendous allegories of fates, furies, genii of death and battle. There were long-haired lads who fancied the sublime lay in the Peruginesque manner, and depicted saintly personages with crisp draperies, crude colours, and haloes of gold-leaf. Our friend marked all these practitioners of Art with their various oddities and tastes, and was welcomed in the ateliers of all of them, from the grave dons and seniors, the senators of the French and English Academy, down to the jovial students who railed at the elders over their cheap cups at the "Lepre." What a gallant, starving, generous, kindly life, many of them led! What fun in their grotesque airs, what friendship and gentleness in their poverty! How splendidly Carlo talked of the marquis his cousin, and the duke his intimate friend! How great Federigo was on the subject of his wrongs, from the Academy at home, a pack of tradesmen who could not understand high art, and who had never seen a good picture! With what haughtiness Augusto swaggered about at Sir John's soirées, though he was known to have borrowed Fernando's coat, and Luigi's dress-boots! If one or the other was ill, how nobly and generously his companions flocked to comfort him, took turns to nurse the sick man through nights of fever, contributed out of their slender means to help him through his difficulty. Max, who loves fine dresses and the carnival so, gave up a costume and a carriage so as to help Paul. Paul, when he sold his picture (through the agency of Pietro, with whom he had quarrelled, and who recommended him to a patron), gave a third of the money back to Max, and took another third portion to Lazaro, with his poor wife and children, who had not got a single order all that winter-and so the story went on. I have heard Clive tell of two noble young Americans who came to Europe to study their art; of whom the one fell sick whilst the other supported his penniless comrade, and out of sixpence a day absolutely kept but a penny for himself, giving the rest to his sick companion. "I should like to have known that good Samaritan, sir," our Colonel said, twirling his mustachios, when we saw him again, and his son told him that story. J. J., in his steady silent way, worked on every day, and for many hours every day. When Clive entered their studio of a morning, he found J. J. there, and there he left him. When the Life Academy was over, at night, and Clive went out to his soirées, J. J. lighted his lamp and continued his happy labour. He did not care for the |