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, Mosaïques, 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 Français,' 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 Galérie decomposée de 300 d'Anciens Maitres, et de l'école 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 decomposée.