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“ There's a great clumsy sneeze! Why, tions. “And I think the soldier was can't ye have beiter manners, you young Sergeant Troy. And they sat there todog!” said Coggan, withdrawing the gether for more than half-an-hour, talkflagon.
ing moving things, and she once wis “ The cider went up my nose !” cried crying almost to death. And when they Cainy, as soon as he could speak; “and came out her eyes were shining and she now 'tis gone down my neck, and into was as white as a lily ; and they looked my poor dumb felon, and over my shiny into one another's faces, as desperately butions and all my best cloze!”
friendly as a man and woman can be." “ The pore lad's cough is terrible un “Gabriel's features seemed to get fortunate," said Matthew Moon. “And thinner. “Well, what did you see bea great history on hand, too. Bump his sides?” back, shepherd.”
“Oh, all sorts." bv 'Tis my natur," mourned Cain. “White as a lily? You are sure 'twas “ Mother says I always was so excitable she?” when my feelings were worked up to a “ Yes."
“Well, what besides?” " True, true," said Joseph Poorgrass. “Great glass windows in the shops, • The Balls were always a very excitable and great clouds in the sky, full of rain, family. I knowed the boy's grandfather and old wooden trees in the country - a truly nervous and modest man, even round.” to genteel refinement. 'Twas blush, “You stun-poll! What will ye say blush with him, almost as much as 'tis next!” said Coggan. with me — not but that 'tis a fault in! “Let en alone,” interposed Joseph
Poorgrass. “The boy's maning is that “Not at all, Master Poorgrass," said the sky and the earth in the kingdom of Coggan. “'Tis a very noble quality in Bath is not altogether different from ours
here. 'Tis for our good to gain knowl“Heh-heh! well, I wish to noise noth-edge of strange cities, and as such the ing abroad — nothing at all," murmured boy's words should be suffered, so to Poorgrass diffidently. “But we are born speak it." to things - that's true. Yet I would " And the people of Bath," continued rather my trifle were hid ; though, per-Cain, “never need to light their fires exhaps, a high nature is a little high, and at cept as a luxury, for the water springs my birth all things were possible to my up out of the earth ready boiled for use." Maker and he may have begrudged no “'Tis true as the light," testified Matgifts. . . . But under your bushel, Jo-thew Moon. “ I've heard other navigaseph ! under your bushel with you! Altors say the same thing." strange desire, neighbours, this desire “ They drink nothing else there,” said ito hide, and no praise due. Yet there is Cain, “and seem to enjoy it, to see how a Serinon on the Mount with a calendar they swaller it down.'' of the blessed at the head, and certain "Well, it seems a barbarous practice meek men may be named therein." enough to us, but I daresay the natives
“Cainy's grandfather was a very clever think nothing of it,” said Matthew. man," said Matthew Moon. “Invented!“ And don't victuals spring up as well a apple-tree out of his own head, which is as drink?" asked Coggan, twirling his called by his name to this day — the eye. Early Ball. You know 'em, Jan ? A "No - I own to a blot there in Bath Quarrington grafted on a Tom Putt, and a true blot. God didn't provide 'em with a Rithe-ripe upon top o' that again. victuals as well as drink, and 'twas a 'Tis trew a' used to bide about in a pub- drawback I couldn't get over at all.” lic-house in a way he had no business to “Well 'tis a curious place, to say the by rights, but there — 'a were a very least," observed Moon; "and it must be clever man in the sense of the term.” a curious people that live therein."
“Now, then," said Gabriel impatiently, “Miss Everdene and the soldier were “ what did you see, Cain ?"
walking about together, you say?" said "I seed our mis’ess go into a sort of Gabriel, returning to the group. a park place, where there's seats, and “Ay, and she wore a beautiful goldshrubs, and flowers, arm-in-crook with a colour silk gown, trimmed with black soldier," continued Cainy firmly, and lace, that would have stood alone without with a dim sense that his words were legs inside if required. 'Twas a very very effective as regarded Gabriel's emo-' winsome sight; and her hair was brushed splendid. And when the sun shone upon I went to High Church in the morning, the bright gown and his red coat — my! and High Chapel in the afternoon." how handsome they looked. You could “A right and proper boy,” said Joseph see 'em all the length of the street.”
Poorgrass. “ And then what?" murmured Gabriel. } “Well, at High Church they pray sing
“ And then I went into Griffin's to have ing, and believe in all the colours of the my boots hobbed, and then I went to rainbow; and at High Chapel they pray Riggy's batty-cake shop, and asked 'em preaching, and believe in drab and whitefor a penneth of the cheapest and nicest wash only. And then – I didn't see no stales, that were all but blue-mouldy but more of Miss Everdene at all.” not quite. And whilst I was chawing “Why didn't you say so before, then ? " 'em down I walked on and seed a clock exclaimed Oak, with much disappointwith a face as big as a baking-trendle—"ment.
“ But that's nothing to do with mis- ' “ Ah," said Matthew Moon, “she'll tress !”
I wish her cake dough if so be she's over "I'm coming to that, if you'll leave me intimate with that man.” alone, Mister Oak!”remonstrated Cainy. “She's not over intimate with him," “If you excites me, perhaps you'll bring said Gabriel, indignantly. on my cough, and then I shan't be able “She would know better,” said Cog. to tell ye nothing."
gan. “Our mis'ess has too much sense “ Yes — let him tell it his own way,” under those knots of black hair to do such said Coggan.
a mad thing." Gabriel settled into a despairing atti-' “You see, he's not a coarse ignorant tude of patience, and Cainy went on :- man, for he was well brought up,” said
“ And there were great large houses, Matthew, dubiously. “'Twas only wildand more people all the week long than ness that made him a soldier, and maids at Weatherbury club-walking on White rather like your man of sin." Tuesdays. And I went to grand church-1 “Now, Cain Ball,” said Gabriel, restes and chapels. And how the parson lessly, “ can you swear in the most awful would pray! Yes, he would kneel down, form that the woman you saw was Miss and put up his hands together, and make Everdene?” the holy gold rings on his fingers gleam “ Cain Ball, you are no longer a babe and twinkle in yer eyes, that he'd earned and suckling," said Joseph in the sepulby praying so excellent well!- Ah yes, Ichral tone the circumstances demanded, wish I lived there.”
“and you know what taking an oath is. “Our poor Parson Thirdly can't get no \'Tis a horrible testament, mind ye, which money to buy such rings," said Matthew you say and seal with your blood-stone, Moon thoughtfully. “And as good a man and the prophet Matthew tells us that on as ever walked. I don't believe poor whomsoever it shall fall it will grind bim
Thirdly have a single one, even of hum- to powder. Now, before all the workblest tin or copper. Such a great orna- folk here assembled can you swear to ment as they'd be to him on a dull after your word as the shepherd asks ye?" noon, when he's up in the pulpit lighted “ Please no, Mister Oak!” said Cainy, by the wax candles ! But'tis impossible, looking from one to the other with great poor man. Ah, to think how unequal uneasiness at the spiritual magnitude of things be."
the position. “I don't mind saying 'tis “ Perhaps he's made of different stuff true, but I don't like to say 'tis d than to wear 'em,” said Gabriel, grimly. (true, if that's what you mane. “ Well, that's enough of this. Go on, L“ Cain, Cain, how can you !” said JoCainy – quick.”
seph sternly. “You are asked to swear “ Óh - and the new style of parsons in a holy manner, and you swear like wear moustaches and long beards,” con- wicked Shimei, the son of Gera, who tinued the illustrious traveller, “and look cursed as he came. Young man, fie!”. like Moses and Aaron complete, and “No, I don't! 'Tis you want to squanmake we fokes in the congregation feel der a poor boy's soul, Joseph Poorgrass all over like the children of Israel.” - that's what 'tis !” said Cain, beginning
“A very right feeling - very," said to cry. “All I mane is that in coinmon Joseph Poorgrass.
truth 'twas Miss Everdene and Sergeant « And there's two religions going on in Troy, but in the horrible so-help-me the nation now - High Church and High truth that ye want to make of it perhaps Chapel. And, thinks I, I'll play fair ; so l'twas somebody else.”
“ There's no getting at the rights of it," cious things of the past, a point in which said Gabriel, turning to his work.
other nations of the world have been less " Cain Ball, you'll come to a bit of careful. San Marco is empty, swept, and hread !” groaned Joseph Poorgrass. garnished; but at least it is left in per.
Then the reapers' hooks were flourished sect good order, and watched over as again, and the old sounds went on. Ga- becomes its importance in the history of briel, without making any pretence of Florence and in that of Art. What siirr. being lively, did nothing to show that he ing scenes, and what still ones, these old was particularly dull. However, Coggan walls have seen, disguising their antiquiknew pretty nearly how the land lay, and ty as they do — but as scarcely any build. when they were in a nook together he ing of their date could do in England said
by the harmony of everything around, “Don't take on about her, Gabriel. the homogeneous character of the town! What difference does it make whose It would be affectation for any observer sweetheart she is, since she can't be brought up in the faith, and bred in the yours?"
atmosphere, of Gothic art, to pretend to “ That's the very thing I say to my any admiration of the external aspect self,” said Gabriel.'
of the ordinary Italian basilica. There is nothing in these buildings except their associations, and sometimes the wealth and splendour of their decorations, picto
rial or otherwise, to charm or impress From Macmillan's Magazine.
eyes accustomed to Westminster and THE CONVENT OF SAN MARCO.
| Notre Dame. The white convent walls - THE PAINTER.
shutting in everything that is remarkable AMONG all the many historical places, within, in straight lines of blank inclo. sacred by right of the feet that have trod- sure, are scarcely less interesting outside den them, and the thoughts that have than is the lofty gable-end which forms taken origin within them, which attract the the facade of most churches in Florence, spectator in the storied city of Florence, whether clothed in shining lines of marthere is not one, perhaps, more interest- ble or rugged coat of plaster. The ing or attractive than the convent of St. church of San Marco has not even the Mark, now, by a necessity of state which distinction of this superficial splendour some approve and some condemn, or squalor. It does not appeal to the emptied of its traditionary inhabitants. sympathy of the beholder, as so many No black and white monk now bars Florentine churches did a few years smilingly to profane feminine feet the ago, and as the cathedral still does with entrance to the sunny cloister: no breth-its stripped and unsightly façade ; but ren of Saint Dominić inhabit the hushed stands fast in respectable completeness, and empty cells. Chapter-house, refec-looking out upon a sunshiny square, tory, library, all lie vacant and open – a arranged into the smooth prettiness of a museum for the state – a blank piece of very ordinary garden by the new spirit of public property, open to any chance good order which has come upon Italy. comer. It would be churlish to complain | It is difficult, in sight of the shrubs, and of a freedom which makes so interesting flowers, and grass-plats, the peaceable a place known to the many ; but it is ordinary houses around, to realize that it almost impossible not to regret the entire was here that Savonarola preached to disappearance of the old possessors, the excited crowds, filling up every morsel of preachers of many a fervent age, the elo- standing-ground; and that these homely quent Order which in this very cloister convent walls, white and blank in the sunproduced so great an example of the shine, were once beseiged by mad Flororator's undying power. Savonarola's ence, wildly seeking the blood of the convent, we cannot but feel, might have prophet who had not given it the miracle been one of the few spared by the exi- it sought. The place is as still now as gencies of public poverty, that most monotonous peace and calm can make it. strenuous of all reformers. On this Some wrecks of faded pictures keep their point, however, whatever may be the places upon the walls, the priests chant stranger's regrets, Italy of course must their monotonous masses, the bad organ be the the final judge, as we have all plays worse music — though this is melobeen in our day; and Italy has at least dious Italy, the country of song; and the the grace of accepting her position as only thing that touches the heart in this art-guardian and custodian of the pre-historical place is a sight that is common in every parish church throughout almost (rural riches, and by the lovely prospect all Catholic countries, at least through- that enchanted their eyes daily, in comout all Italy -- the sight of the handful parison with the happiness of getting of homely people who in the midst of back again to their beloved town. The their work come in to say their prayers, vicissitudes of their exile, and the conor having a little leisure, sit down and nection of the brotherhood with the spemuse in the soft and consecrated silence. cial tumults of the time may all be found I think no gorgeous funzione, no Pon- in Padre Marchese's great work, “San tifical High Mass, is half so affecting. ! Marco Illustrato," but are at once too Their faces are towards the altar, but detailed and too vague to be followed nothing is doing there. What are they here. In process of time they were alabout? Not recalling the associations of lowed to descend the hill to San Giorgio the place, thinking of Savonarola, as we on the other side of the Arno, which was are; but musing. upon what is far more still a partial banishment; and at last close and intimate, their own daily trials regained popularity and influence so and temptations, their difficulties, their completely that the naughty Silvestrini anxie:ies. The coolness and dimness of were compelled to relinquish their larger the place, a refuge from the blazing sun house, and marched out of San Marco without, now and then a monotonous aggrieved and reluctant across the bridge, chanting, or the little tinkle of the bell while the Reformed Dominicans, with which rouses them from their thoughts for joyful chanting of psalms, streamed across a moment, and bids every beholder bend a in procession to the new home, which reverend knee in sympathy with what is was not only a commodious habitation, going on somewhere behind those dim but a prize of virtue. Perhaps this kind pillars — some Low Mass in an unseen of transfer was not exactly the way to chapel - all this forms a fit atmosphere make the brethren love each other ; but around those musing souls. And that history says nothing more of the Silvesis the most interesting sight that is to be trini. The Dominicans do not seem to seen in San Marco, though the strangers have had, immediately at least, so pleaswho come from afar to visit Savonarola's ant a removing as they hoped, for their church and dwelling-place stray about the new convent was dilapidated, and scarcely side chapels and gaze at the pictures, and inhabitable. Cosmo de Medici, the first take little enough note of the unpictu- great chief of that ambitious family, the eresque devotion of to-day.
wily and wise founder of its fortunes, the The history of the remarkable convent | Pater Patriæ, whom Florence not long and church which has thus fallen into the before had summoned back to guide and blank uses of a museum on the one hand, rule the tirbulent city, took the case of and the commonplace routine of a parish the monks in hand. He rebuilt their on the other, has long ceased to be great ; convent for them, while they encamped all that was most notable in it indeed - in huts and watched over the work. And its virtual foundation, or rebuilding, when when it was so far completed as to be transferred to the Dominican order, its habitable, royal Cosmo gave a commisdecoration, its tragic clinax of power sion to a certain monk among them and closely following downfall - were all skilled in such work, to decorate with summed up within the fifteenth century. pictures the new walls. These decoraBut it is one of the great charms of the lions, and the gentle, simple, uneventful storied cities of Italy that they make the life of this monk and his brethren, furfiiteenth century (not to speak of ages nish a soft prelude to the stormy strain sull more remote) as yesterday to the of further story of which San Marco was Spectator, placing him with a loving to be the subject. Its period of fame sympathy in the very heart of the past. and greatness, destined to conclude in I deed not enter into the story of the thunders of excommunication, in more events which gained to the Dominican tangible thunders of assault and siege, in order possession of San Marco, originally popular violence, tragic anguish, and dethe property of an order of Silvestrini; struction, began thus with Autings of but may sum them up here, in a few angels, with soft triumphs of art, with words. For various reasons, partly moral, such serene, sweet quiet, and beautiful partly political, a community of Dominic industry, as may be exercised, who knows, cans had been banished to Fiesole, where in the outer courts of heaven itself. A they lived and longed for years, gazing at stranger introduction to the passion and their Florence from among the olive gar- struggle of Savonarola's prophetic career dens, and setting naught by all these could scarcely be, than that which is contained in this gentle chapter of conven-, to belɔng to this period have been injured tual existence, at its fairest and brightest, in some cases, and in others destroyed. which no one can ignore who steps across Fra Giovanni performed all his monastic the storied threshold of San Marco, and duties with the devotion of the humblest is led to the grave silence of Prior Giro- | brother; and lived little known, without lamo's cell between two lines of walls troubling himself about fame, watching from which soft faces look at him like no doubt the nightly sunsets and moonbenedictions, fresh (or so it seems) from rises over that glorious Val d'Arno which Angelico's tender hand.
shone and slumbered at his feet, and The painter whom we know by this noting silently how the mountain watchname, which is not his name any more ers stood round about, and the litile Tus. than it is the name of the Angelical doc- can hills on a closer level stretched their tor, St. Thomas Aquinas, or the Angeli- vine garlands like hands each to the cal father, Saint Francis, was born in the other, and drew near, a wistful friendly neighbourhood of Florence, in (as Padre band, to see what Florence was doing. Marchese describes it) the fertile and fair í Florence, heart and soul of all, lay under province of Mugello – in the latter part him, as he took his moonlight meditative of the fourteenth century. His name was stroll on the terrace or gazed and musel Guido di Pietro; Guido, the son of Peter out of his narrow window. One can
-evidently not with any further dis- fancy that the composition of that lovely tinction of lineage. Where he studied landscape stole into the painter's eye and his divine art, or by whom he was taught, worked itself into his works, in almost is not known. Vasari suggests that he all of which some group of reverent specwas a pupil of Starnina, and Eyre and tators, Dominican brethren with rapt Cavalcaselle imagine that more likely the faces, or saintly women, or angel lookersStarnina traditions came to him through on more ethereal still, stand by and watch Masolino or Masaccio, and that he formed with adoring awe the sacred mysteries his style upon that of Orcagna. These, transacted in their presence, with somehowever, do not seem much more than thing of the same deep calm and hush conjectures, and the only facts known of which breathes about the blue spectator his simple history are that in 1407, when heights round the City of Flowers. he was twenty, his brother and he, taking What Fra Giovanni saw was not what we the names of Benedetto and Giovanni, see. No noble dome had yet crowned together entered the Dominican order in the Cathedral, and Giotto's Campanile, the convent at Fiesole. This community divirely tall, fair and light as a lily stalk, had a troubled life for some years, and had not yet thrown itself up into inid air; the young disciples were sent to Cortona, nothing but the rugged grace of the old where there are various pictures which Tower of the Signoria – contrastiny now testify to the fact that Fra Giovanni was in picturesque characteristic Tuscan hualready a painter of no mean power. All manity with the more heavenly creations the dates however of this early part of that rival it — raised up then its protecthis life are confused, and the story un-ing standard from the lower level of ancertain ; for indeed it is probable no one cient domes and lofty houses, soaring knew that the young monk was to be above the Bargello and the Badia, in the come the Angelican painter, the glory of days of the Angelical painter. But there his convent, and one of the wonders of was enough in this, with all its summer his age. What is certain, however, is, i hazes and wintry brightness, with the that he returned from Cortona, and lived shadows that fit over the wide landsc.ipe for many years in the convent of San like some divine breath, and the broid, Dominico, half way up to Fiesole, upon dazzling, rejoicing glow of the Italian the sunny slopes where nothing ventures sun, and Arno gliminering througlı the to grow that does not bear fruit ; where midst like a silver thread, and white cisflowers are weeds, and roses form the tellos shining further and further off in hedges, and the lovely cloudy foliage of the blue distance up to the very skirt of the olive affords both shade and wealth. Apennine, to inspire his genius. In There is not very much record of the those days men said little about Nature, painter in all those silent cloistered years. and did not even love her, the critics Books which he is said to have illumi-think — rather had to find out how to nated with exquisite grace and skill are love her, when modern civilization came doubtfully appropriated by critics to his to teach them how. But if Fra Giovanni, brother or to humbler workers of their pacing bis solitary walk upon that muunt school, and the few pictures which seem of vision at San Dominico, evening after