My New Palette-Boy: Or a Scene in "The Rookery of St, Giles's" (Continued)Source: The American Art Journal (1866-1867), Vol. 7, No. 8 (Jun. 15, 1867), pp. 113-115Published by:Stable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/25307086 .

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A WEEKLY RECORD OF MusIC, ART. AND LITERATURE.

HENRY C. WATSON Editor.

Enterod according to Act of Congress, A. D. 18GG, by FRXNCESCA G. WATSON, in tho Clork's Office of tho U. S. District Court forAtho Soutllern District of New York

NEW SEn=I1S.-NO. 162 ' NE' W SATURDAY JDUNE 1 7E DoRs PEP YEAD. VOL. VUa.-No 7. SE VLE l.PIE7, 1riOT..

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DECKER BROTHERS' PATENT, JUNE, 1863.

CONTENTS

My New Paletto-Boy, . . . 113

Tho Italian Opors . . . . 115

Art Prizes at the Paris Exposition . . . . la

Musical Anecdotes, . . . 117

Reflections, Critical and Suggestive, 117

New Books, Magazines, &c., . . . 119

Art Matters, . . . . . 119

Items from Foroign Papers,. . . . 119

The Musical Festival Week, . . . . 120

A Forcing Bed for Public Opinion, 123

The Paris Exposition-American Pianos, 123

Matters Theatric, ..124

Paris, . .121

Musical and General Gossip, . . , .. 124

-My New Palette-Boy; OR A SCENE IN "THE ROOKrY OF ST, GIrEs'S."

Poetry, ino doubt, is a very ine sort of thing, with all its metaphors aind illustrations. It is a kindl of court or holiday dress, that we may be allowed to wear on certailn occasions, blut is

much too fine and filmy to do our common work in, w hich would tear it all to tatters; we should therefore (to change the simile) only visit the regions of poetry as citizens generally do their country-houses, after the business of the day Is over, and the Sunday gives them liberty to breathe,

" In reogions mild the calm and serene anir, Above the smoke and stir of this dimn spot Which men call earth."

Since earth then-solid, substantial earth-is, and must be, our abiding place whilst we are

mere human beings, except, indeed, on gala-days, when we umay be permitted to

"Lilt high our heads and breathe th' eternal air," it seems to me that we olught to derive interest from all that passes in every hole and corner of this our busy ant-hill; anid that even a scene Iroim so unimaginative a spot as The Rookery of St. Giles's, If drawn from the very lie, (and learn, gentle reader, that I am in sooth a portrait painter,) will not be unacceptable. Shall we fiud aught of poetry there? It is not impossible.

We often ascend to her abode, why should niot she descend to us? Listen, then, to how I got

my little new palette-boy that you see yonder,

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114 AMERICAN ART JOURNAL.

who, Ir he live, will one (ldiy 1 prophesy be an artist or no common note.

Before I go any further, let miie state.tbat I am now wbat mav lairly be called an old bachelor, and that 1 bave a prescriptive right to put the initials R. A. alter my name.

As I was sitting in my stu(io, I receive(d a few almost illegrible lines trom poor Susan Williams, who many years ago was a very favorite house maid ot0 my late doar mother; andl, if the truth must be told, had not been at all unpeasing to her only soD, whro, then a young artist and coI1 sequently a great admirer of female beauty, ofteii gazed at tho delicate features and formi of this poor girl, until a reproviug bluBb upon her cheek convinced me that I had gazed too long; hut no

miatter, she soon nmarried away froml us, muclh to the aninoyanco of her kind miistress (saying notling of myself). We foresawv that no good couldl conm from. this imprudent match, as ViI hiams18, the man whlo took hor away from our comiortable house, lhad saved iio money, and was, besides, in very delicate health. After the death ol miy mother, I lost all traces of " pretty Susan," as I used to call her, until I received a letLer flomn her about a year, and a halt back, ilploring- me to place her eldest boy, Francis, in some situa tio11, as lher husbanid was deadl, andl she left fn g,reat distress with two otlher children.

I lost no time In atctndiig to lher wvisles, and was fortuniate enough in geLtting ler son placed as errand boy with a Alr. Platt, of the Inner Temiiple, a gentlemani who had sat nmany years belore to miie for his portrait, andl got nme to take another ot a lady 1br whom he then appeared

muclh interestedl. After this I heard nio miore from the motlher of the lad, and had almost fer gotteni the tranisaction altogether, wvheii I received 1froin lher a few more scrawling lines, dated from " Tue Rookeiy qf St. Giles's,' urging me, in the

most affecting, terms, to call upon hor instanitly tlhere, ag to use lher owvn words, "she was almsost oUt oft her wvits with sorrow, and hlid nio hope oln earth blut In me." I set Oe to visit poor Susan

Willianms the next morningi. As I mounted tlhe third flioght of stairs, leading

to the desolatc clamber of t1is Nvretchliet inmrate of the dirty abodel I hadl been directed to, situated in a close alley, or court, in St. Giles's, I heard a

weak feiiale voice speaking wviLth nuch pathos to some ono within; I paused uponl the landing placo foib a momlenlt and looked in at tllo haltfopei dtoor; tbere, coweQrinig betore a simiall coke tlhe, I recognized tlhe altercdl form of poor Susain, mny

motlher's onice pretty house maid. She wvas pale anld emaciated, and appeared to mo in a deep lecline. Slho vas aiddressing lhersell' to hier

daughter, a youncr girl about fourteenl, who cer ttiitily did not inherit miuch ol the beauty of her

mothor. "For the love of heaven. Patty, do go this

momiienit anid bringb up our little Sammiqy from-a that lhorrid court 1" said poor Susan, claspinig her thiun hands together, but too weak, it seemed to lle, to rise; "he]e hals escaped amain, Patty, anil I hear his VOiCe now, playing with all those wickedl boys wvho have been tlle rLain of muy poor Frank. 0 my Godl I 1shal lose him tool"

"It's of nio use, miotlher, wvorriting yourself about littlo Saumi," replied tlho young girl thus addressed, who w'as standing withi her back towvards ie wvashing iii ani old cracked earthen pan, tied round the top wlith a piece of strilngc to keep it together, hut wlilioh (did not prevenit its leakage, so that tllo feet of the yountig waslierwvoman conl sequetntly stoodl il a puddle of dIirty soap-suds,

wvhich seemed miiuch to annoy her, for she added, rather petulautly, "Judy Sullivani promiiised to lenid mne her washing-tub to-day, but hias changed her mnind, I supposO, lor she Is uisinig it lhlrself: see, mothelr; what a iess I ami in Il"

"Never mind tho washingu, Patty," exclaimed her muother, wvith passionate fervor; "what is that comilpared with tho safbty of my child ? Let

me enltreat yea to go anld f'etchs up yolur little b)rother, or 1 m1ust try, ill as I eam, to dlo it mylself';" anld thle haplless creature made anl etlilrt so to do,?

but could not support liersel;t and sank back in her chair bursting into an a,ony of tears.

"Don't take on so, mother," cried the girl, who seemed to have but little sensibility. "What a

fiss you do make about little Sam I You kinow well enough that it I do bring him up, he will sip away hrom us again just like an eel; and then he grows so imnperent, that I can't manage him at all. Don't plague yourself about him; he is sure to come up when be is hungry, and then, If you will let me, I'll tie hiis leg to the bed-post, for nothing clse will keep him I am sure."

"Tlhat was jusl the way of poor Frank," groaned out his mother, " and see what has come of it I Pray, Patty dear, go this buce and !fetch him up, or I shall die on the spot. Oh! that we were out of this hiorrid place!"

"Let me wring out this sheet first, mother." doggedly mnurmured out the -irl "There, I'll go to please you, thof I am in this condition; but it's of nio use, and a protty tugsel I shiall have to bring himii up-stairs-sure there lnever' was such a young Turk I"

As Patty turned towards the door to execute her unwelcome conimission, she encountered me, mawde an exclamation, and. rawn back to wipe up with a dirty towel the slop she had made upon the floor, and to reach. me a chair, saying, " Here is the kinud gentlemanl, mother, who got our Frank his sitiation."

I thought I ha(l recognized young, Sam as I passed, whom I h1ad noticed befbre as a remark ably tine andl intelli-ent child. The little scape -race was in the minTs' of a dozen or so of ragged, lirty bloys, whlo left oil' thlef noisy game to stare

at me as I went throug01h the ill-savored alley. They were chiefly wit!' oiut shoes or stockings; and thle filthy dlowlas ot' their shirts, or thleir un washed skin, was peeping most plentirLully through the holes of their jackets and i!l-made trousers. Thle chlild 1 hlad remlarkied for Sam wvas comparatively tidy, anild at any rate. had had his bold, good-looking fiace washed once in that day, if not more.

"God bless your honor!" sobbed out poOlr Susan Williams; "hlow very kind

- this is of you

to come to me in thle hour of my affliction and disgqrace 1"

W4What has happened, my good wonman," I inquired, sit in<r dow n )eK ile h1er; ' b)ut here comies Patty ana your youn est son Il"

By maini force, an(d kicking, struggling, and screaming llr 1 the way, in w.as broug ht thle rebJel lious Samii, whh a heightened color alnd tuars of inldig,nation rolling' fiorthl from his darl; clear eyes; he w.as placed upon thle floor by hlis victorious siSLer ijust before hiis mothier and mysel, and, in Spite of all his disob)edenice, I coukld not hlelp thinking, as 1 regardedl thle young, deliniquent ^ ithi a p-ainter's eye, that I had never seen bet o,e a more beoautilul or intellectual headl, finer clus teriog, hlair, or a form more robuist anld wtell pro

portioned. As he saw me,,he rose andL slunik aw^ay into a corner, and, 'afLer cyceing me a me inent askanwce, began for 'vant of some:thing b)et ter to (lo to puit lis fingers in an(d try to wide:a a sall3 hlole t,hat wnls jUSt percept(ib)le in the kinees ,of' his cordluroys.

"H Have done, do I" exclaimed his sister, giving himi a smart rap over the knluckles.

" I can't sit doinlg nlothing, Mrs. Pat," mur mured out the indignant Master San.

"WhaVllt has happtened MIrs. Williams ?" demandl ed I,- nothinigr to yoar eldeat boy, I hopef"

I soon learned, accornpani:,d by nmany tears anid sob)s, thlat thle boy I had placed writh Mr. P'latt, thle counisellor, a year before, had been robhing his miaster of many valuiable books arnd paper s, ~vhichl he had sold to a cheescmonter for. thAe USe of hlis shop; th.it the crime haf beenl fully brougbt home to hiimi, and that they had commlittedl hlim, young as he was, to prison.

"sThis is dreadfuvl andl une.xpectedI news, in deed," said I; "1I do niot worder at your trou bile. Is there any chance or hope that you nill b)e abe' to get the lad out of that frig,htful place Newqgate ?"'

"Oh1, wYhat a horrid wvord is that yoxi have jcst

spo'en 1" exclaimed the wretched mother, hiding her fiace with her hands, annd weeping convul sively, " That I should live to hear that a child of mine-ot my poor dead husband--should be shut up in such a place as that for robbery I"

Eveen Patty was move(d at this violent burst of emotion in her mother; she wiped her eyes with her wet apron, and said, " Don't ye take on so, mother dear;- Frank is not so unhappy after all. When I took him his clean things yesterday, he

looked as bhtho as a butterfly, and bid me tell you thal hle-did nol; mind taking a trip over the water for seven years, or so, a single dump, and

that It would son pass away and he should see us all again."I

" He will never see me alive after he is trans ported," sobbed out the poor motheer: " Oh, sir, he is grown quite lharqened, and is as bad as the rest of them I.fear I"

" I am come purposely," said I " to render you service, it it be in my power; so tell me exactly bow this miserable affair standls. But first, Pat ty, you shall go and buy yourself a new, brown earthen pan, and a good lump ot yellow soap, for it is a pity so capital a laundress as I see you are should be obliged to wet -yourself so; and, stop a mi oment, 3ou may purchase a couple of penny prints, and twopenny box of colors, and two haltpenny brushes for that busy young ur chin your brother there, and then he will have soniethilng better to do, i hope, thani picking bis trousers to pieces in order that you may miiend them."

"And imay she buy me a lead-pencil nithi the other penny, sir?" cried the young rogue, look ing up arehly in my face.

"What other penny, Master Sam ?" inquired I, smiling at the boy's great quickness of reckoni ing, and perfectly astonished at his courage and audacity.

"There will be a penny left out c. the six pence, you kniow, sir," argued he, with pertect sangt',oidc; "anldl then I shall be quite set up."

"Will you promise niot to go anid play in -that nasty court again without your mother's leave?" I asked.,

"Yes I will, if youi will give me a couple more pictu'es.&"

" You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Sani," remnonstrated the sister, "wh^lien his honior is so kind to us all; you'll break your mother's heait, that's vhat you will."

"But I won't though, " cried Sam, "for Frank has done that alreadty; but wlhen I have 'a pencil, I can soon get plenly of tea an(d sugar and what,. she likes, and make lher well again."

"Indeed I" said I; "then you shall certainly, my fine fellowv, have the tools to work with: buy him; Patty, a good lead-p6encil, and a couple of sheets ot paper likewise,-lct us see what he can lo I Come, chieer up, Mrs. Willt;ans, I see you

are better now; tell me all about this sad atfair of your other boy."

" Well sir,"! said the poor woman a little re covered,-" W ell sir, you know you got my poor Frauk the place wiih the gentleman in the Tem ple, and much satisfaction ditl lhe for a long, tinme give his master;' he brought home his wages every Saturlay night, anid there was not a sharper, cutle errand-boy, one of Mr. PlatL's clerls told me, in a 1 the inns o' court."

"Bring miie two pictures with mcn and horses," bere interupted little Sam to -his sister, wbo .yas 'changing her wet stockings, I perceived, behind the door.

"Hold your tongcue, you naughty boy I" scolded fortlh little Paitty from her place of concealpinut.

"AhI that's always your way, Mrs. Pat, "sai(l the unruly, but clevcr little dog; I,

notbiu but 'naugbty boy' with youn all day long: but'L MirbI.

may have what pictures I likes wheni the, gives 'em me; mayn't 'I, sir ?" -

-There was so much good sense in what t Jtd urged, and so much m6ral courazge displayed in his standing Up thus for his right, that I, who naturallly dislikie a mean, currlsh dispositien, wats

more pleased than offended with Samn's boldness, so told hlim he had better, go oult with his sister

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AMEItLUAN ART JOURNAL 115

and choose the print- tor biniself, an'd it he would copy them neatly, I wotild give him some more

another day ;" away he scampered, with a look of triumph at his sister Patty.

This trifling present of mine has made Sam an artist,-t'ool that I am ;-the great Father of the

Universe had given him, loing before, all the

gerns necessary for such an art; they only needed conditions, such as stinsbine, and warmth and

muoisture, to the plant to -make them slhoot and grow: T, by mere chance (is there such a thing?) or rather with the wish to l;eep the clhild quiet in

his mother's room, by giving him amiiusement, had caused this vital pri2acple ot genius to swell

within him and put torth its first pnle lea-. "Go on with your story, my good woman,"

said I. I" know it waas wrong for my unbappy- child

to do this," continued poor Susan, but he is very young, and this is his first offence; they carried him off to Newgrate, sir, where le is keeping com pany with thieves and pickpockets, and he is getting as hard as Turpin. A child should not be taken to Newgate, sir."

"Have you been to plead with Mr. Platt, the barrister, his master ?" I inquired.

"Oh yes, your-honor, and that is what has made me now so very ill. It was a very wet day, and I stood shivering in the office passage, in muy wet things, for more than an hour, crying like the rain; but he wouldl not see me: all the answer I could get was -through his servant, who was very rude to me, and at lust shut the door in my tace."

" What teas the answver?" inquired 1; "surely the sius of the childIren are not to be thrown

back upon the paren's; it is hard enough, me thinks, the other way."

"[He sent mue word that my son was an un g,ratetul, dishonest young, vagabond, and that the sooner he was sent over the water the better; he should not stir a finger to,savc hiim from transportation, and so the law miust take its course."

(To be C'ontinued.)

[From the "Saturday Roview."]

TIIE ITALIAN OPERAS.

The openingr night at Her Majesty's Theatre promised vell. The opera w,s "Le Nezze di Figaro " of Mozart, the distribution of charactc-rs in wlhichl, with one important and two uniimport ant exceptions, is certainly stroinger and more generally efficient than at the otlher houRe. To niame at once the exceptions, and to begin with the exception of most consequence-the Cherubi no of Madame Demeric Lablache is in no sense comparable with the Cheiubino of Mdlle. Lucca. Mdlle. LuccK's Cherubino sins occasionally.on the side of extravagance, and, indee(i, is over-acted throug2lhout. But, on the other hand, there is a certain charm about it, as there is about every impersonation of Mdlle. Lucca's Cherubino more especially, which, as in some of the inimitab'e caricatures otfRonconi, not only compels torgive ness, but stimulates interest. Now, Madauie La blache over-acts Cherabino just as much as Mdlle. Lucca-more, perlhaps. on the who!e-without exhibiting that charm which compels forgiveness and stimulates interest. Moreover, Mdlle. Lucca, befhig a soprano, sings the two airs, " Non so pin cosa son," and "Voi che sapete," in Mozart's owt. keys, while Mdme. Lablache being a con tralto, does not, and lor the matter of that, can not. '.What is lost by the transposition of those b$anut'lhl songs to keys considerably lower in 2titch,. not iuerely of brigrhtness in the vocal part, bdt-f rich coloring in the accompaniments for the Qrchlestra, need scarcely be' insisted on.

Waiving tlhese special objections, however, Matl ame Lablache has none or t he indispensable re quiisites for such a character as the amorous I'age of Beaumarchias, Di Ponte, and Mozart. The unimnportant exceptions are the Basilio of

Mr. Clharles Lyall, anict the Antonio of Signor Casaboni. Mr. Lyall,, it is true; might fairly be

preferred to Signor Neri-Baraldi, if he did not omit the air, "In quegli anni," and thus reduce Basilio almost to musical insigniiicance. Signor Polonini's drunken Gardener, however, is, ns we have said, a bit of genuine comely; while the drunken Gardener of Signor Casaborni is a nonen tity. In the remaining characters, exceptingi

Marcellina, played b3 Madame Tagliatlco, who may pair ofl with Madame Anese at Covent Gar den, the advantage is greatly ou the sidle of Her

Majesty's Theatre. The Susanna of AMllle. Sin-co is a real and spriglhty bit or lite; and.though the voice of this clever la(ly is not equal to'the voice of Madame Lemmens-Sherring,ton, ler singing is marked by qua1itles which may be sought for in vaini in the singin1g of' her rival at the otber house. The Countess of Mdlle. Tietjens, and the Count of tMr. Santley, are probably, at the time being, unequalled on the Italian stage. Mdlle. Fricei could ill support a comparison with the first, and Signor Graziani as ill support a com parison with the last. It must be admitted that

Mr. Santley does not greatlylshine as an actor, but Signor Graziani is even less gifted tx ithI his trionic talent, although wvith most of his imper sonations, he makes, in this respect, an emphatic exhibition of inicapacity. To conclude, the Fi garo of' Signor Gassier is on the wvhole better than the Fi;aro ot M. Petit-as a genuine Italian oper'atic Fiararo is nearly always better than a French one. The orchestra at both houses is ad .mirablethat ot Covent Garden, if' lve are forced to weigh their respective claims, being, for va rious reasons, entitled to the palm, and Mr. Costa slhowing a more classical taste than Signor Ardli ti, in adhering with closer reverence to the origr inal score, restoring the Jandango, the omission ot which at Her Majesty's Theatre destroys the symmetry of the third finwie, and giving the opera not in two acts, bat in four, ticcording to the plan of Mozart. On the other hand, the chorus av Iler Majesty's Theatre evinces a mark ed superiority over that at Covent Garden, in "Figaro " as in every other opera. The singers at the old house are for the nost part young, with strong fresh voices; while those at thleot( r, however, apt anid experienced, are in the majority of inistances what, in the language of the Turf, is termed "aged." As liar s the mise en scene is concerned, it would be hard to say at which house it is the least showy. Coompar isons, un(der the circunmstances, aie unavoidable, and may be founld the less out ot place now, inasmuch as we have nothing to adld to the descriptions of either "Figaro" which appeared in the Satiurday Re view Ut the end ol last season. It is curious, though to real amnateurs not surprising, that an

opera comiiposed by a Germuan musician s0o flir back as 1786, should eighty years later be a sort of test of capacity between the two great London Italian lyric theatres; and the uiore curious be cause, on account of the unusual number of re sponsible characters, it is one of the most ditilculL of all operas to presenl efficieutly. Mozart, how ever, is evidently in the ascendant. Onl;- the other night (Thursday) at Covent Garden, "1 Doni Giovauni," in conseqirepce of the inidisposition of Mdille. Adelina Patti, being withdrawvn, "Le Nozze di Figaro " was readily accepted in lieu of it by a crowded house, which seemed to take consolation, in the delicious melodies that abound in every scene, for the disappointmenet of not

hearing the most popular singer of the day in the most popular opera of all time.

What can have tempted Mr. Mapleson to revive sach a work as " 1 Lombardi " it is not eaisy to guiess. The earlier operas or Signor Verdi have little in them that is enduring. "Oberto," his first, made a noise for a time; andL some enthusi astic triends of the composer proclaimied "a new

Rossini I" But the utter failure, a year later, of its iimmediate successor, " Un Giorno di Regno, ' dissipated for a while the magnilicent lhopes that lha(l been built upon the shadowy pretensions or1 " Oberto." To speak truthl, there was very uitIle in either of thleml to justiIt grleat ex;pectaltions.

N'or can wre believe thlat the thlird opera ol the mo.3t popular representative of' "Young Italy"

w1l survive. I'ts composer is n'ow in the pleni

tude of his lame, and yet no onie ever hears of it.

We allude to "Nabucodonosor," first brouglht forward in 1842, the lhbsetto of waich was writte.n

by one Solera, wlho had in vain endleavored to

persuade the German, Otto Nicolai (tben in italy). author of the opera known to frequenters of Her Majesty's Theatre as " IFalstaff," to set it to music. It just suited young Vecdi, however, an(d those wh lo can remember "Nino," at Her Majesty's Tlheatre (1S46), and "Anato," at the Royal italian Opera (1850), must still have some cechoes of tile "sound and fury signiityinc nothing" in their

mind's ear. To ".Nabucodonosor- ino-Anatol' succeeded " I Lombardi alla prima Crociata, ' the

libretto for which was concocted by this samiie Solera, trom a poefm by Grossi, who really ought to have a new edition iowv that the opera hiis

pages inspired has been thought worthy of re. vival. "I Lombardi" met with an enormous success at thie Scala, at Milan, where it was first

represented iu February, 1813; but we very mucl dloubt whether a traveller disposed to spenid a couple of years in visiting every considerable or inconsidlerable Italian city (all Italian cities can boast a lyric theatre) wouldl have the slightest chance of hearing it now. In Paris, four years later, it made a comiiplete fiasco, at tlhe Grand

Opera, where it vas performedl, witlh modilica tionis and additions, under the name of "IJerusa lem." Duprez played the princi1pal character;

but it was ol little avail; the last tones ot a once

noble voice were eflectively silenced by "Jerusa lem" and the "Tu mens, tu mens, tu mensl"

-which, (luring a short space, was a byxvord in

the streets of Paris, and vhich the great Freinch tenor of the "Ut de poitriue" used to sl riek rather thani sing, so utterly exlausted was lhe by

his previous exertions. The twvo attemiipts at gainitg popularity for "I Lombardi"l mande by

Mr. Lumley, the most enterprizing operatic iM presario ot the century-in 1846, with Grisi, Mario, an(l Foruasari, and in 1850. with a neov

tenor, since, in spite of his beautiful voice, for gotten-were both failures. And no wonder.

The book i3 as rambling; improbable, and absurd as anythingr of the sort could well be; and thoughIi

even -at that period Verdi was not infrequently

visited with an original tune, sure to tinl(d its w[ay

to the street-organJ3, "I Lombardi," with the eoception ot one or twvo pretty melodies, a chorus

ol' Crusaders, and a prayer, in unison almost

tbrougllout, then as nlow a tavoriLe peculiarity of

the colllposer, containis no more geniuue milusic than "Nabucodlonosor" and its predecessors much less, in tact, than "Ernanii," Verdi's tifth opera, which, though by no means a great opera,

was far superior to anything he haV previously giveni to tlhe world. Our morniing contemiporarics have been at such commendable pains to narrate,

as intelligibly as it was in their power, the plot ot' "I Lombardi," that, supposing opera-loving readers have already mastered It in allt its iucohe

rent details, we shall be charitable enoutglh to afflict them with no more than an outline. More

utterly uninteresting personagres than the tvo Lombard brothers, Arvino and Pagrano-Arvino the successful, Pagano the unsuccesstul wooer ol'

a certain Viclindla, as uninterestinig as either of

theim-could not well be imagined. Pagano, at

any rate, hats some force of character. Disap

pointed of Viclinda he stabs Arvino, and sup

posing the blo'w to be fatal, flies the countfry. The woundL, however, not being mortal, Pagano, af6er a protracted exile, is allowed to return, and

the -ood Arvino, with the approval of the no less

exceilenit Viclinda, receives hium with open arms. The reprobate, however, is reprobate still, and, in the prosecution of' a plot to carry away

Viclinda, murders Iiis own father, the extenuating circumstance being that the blow was meant for

his brother. Pagano would scorn to be a parri ci(le; but to be a iratiricide, so tliat his purpose

were eflected (that of abducting his brother's wife', hle wouldl not so mluchl min?d. Learnling thle real nature ot his crime, lie retreats agin, ande, tak;ing refug inl a wilderness. in Palestine, repentls, becames hermit, vegetates in a cave,

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