Sand and Canvas: Narrative of adventures in Egypt with a sojourn among the artists in Rome

by Samuel Bevan

With this important question fresh upon the tapis, it was no wonder that a considerable portion of the evening was consumed in long-winded speeches, and had it not been for a deeply guttural proposal on the part of our friend Beardman, “to take the basso part in a glee,” a harmonious feeling would scarcely have been arrived at. His instigation was succeeded by a call for a song from the chair, amid a vociferous shout of “Viva Titmarsh!” and a deafening clatter of dessert furniture. Our great friend assured us he was unable to sing, but would endeavour to make amends by getting up a recitation, if some one in the mean time would make a beginning. Whilst a few, therefore, on the right of the chair, were tantalizing the company by a tortured version of one of Calcott’s glees, the F. C., busy with his tablets under the table, produced the following affecting narrative, of which he soon after delivered himself in a fittingly lugubrious tone of voice.

THE THREE SAILORS.

There were three sailors in Bristol City,
Who took a boat and went to sea.
But first with beef and captains’ biscuit,
And pickled pork they loaded she.
There was guzzling Jack and gorging Jimmy,
And the youngest he was little Bil-ly.
Now very soon they were so greedy,
They did’nt leave not one split pea.
Says guzzling Jack to gorging Jimmy,
I am confounded hung-ery.
Says gorging Jim to guzzling Jacky,
We have no wittles, so we must eat we.
Says guzzling Jack to gorging Jimmy,
Oh! gorging Jim, what a fool you be.
There’s little Bill as is young and tender,
We’re old and tough—so let’s eat he.
Oh! Bill, we’re going to kill and eat you,
So undo the collar of your chemie.
When Bill he heard this information,
He used his pocket-handkerchee.
Oh! let me say my Catechism,
As my poor mammy taught to me.
Make haste, make haste, says guzzling Jacky,
Whilst Jim pulled out his snicker-snee.
So Bill went up the main top-gallant mast,
When down he fell on his bended knee.
He scarce had said his catechism,
When up he jumps; there’s land I see!
There’s Jerusalem and Madagascar,
And North and South Ameri-key.
There’s the British fleet a riding at anchor,
With Admiral Napier, K.C.B.
So when they came to the Admiral’s Vessel,
He hanged fat Jack, and flogged Jim-my.
But as for little Bill, he made him
The Captain of a Seventy-three.

It is needless to say that the recital of M. A. Titmarsh was received with all the applause it merited. Even the “Emperor,” stoically indifferent as he uniformly was to either music or moral, was betrayed into some expression of feeling, distinctly audible to those near him, whilst he repeatedly pledged the author of the interesting ballad. Other songs followed as a matter of course, but our ears were become so accustomed to the oft-heard and unvarying effusions of our brother artists, that few of them elicited farther comment than a faint “bravo,” or a few raps upon the table, and we were beginning to think of separating, when our chairman received a polite message from a party of Americans, who had been dining in another room. With a laudable wish to sink a certain feeling of national prejudice, which I believe some of the English entertained against “Brother Jonathan,” these gentlemen expressed a desire to fraternize and join us, a proposal which so aroused the bile of Vetch and Warmey, that they immediately quitted the apartment in a state of great excitement, whilst our esteemed chairman formed, and personally headed, a mission of peace into the quarters of the enemy, who afterwards gave us their company for the rest of the evening.

With the commencement of February came the Carnival again, a more brilliant affair this year than the last, in consequence of the great number of strangers wintering in Rome. Among the English, and others, there was a constant succession of evening parties in every grade of style and grandeur, from the grand crash at Torlonia’s to the quiet tea-drink of a first-floor in the Due Macelli. Great was the dismay of those unfortunate bachelors, who had been so unwary as to place their temporary accounts in the hands of one of the Condotti bankers, to find their names excluded from the long list of eligibles on the books of the Signor Spada. No large card with the attracting German-text of the Principe and Principessa, greeted them from the corners of their chimney-glasses, and unless they could squeeze themselves in under cover of the family invite of some large party of English friends, or suddenly transfer their accounts, the salons of the mighty banker were to them a terra incognita.

At one of the Festini in the Argentina, which were this time particularly gay, I made the acquaintance of an agreeable family, through the medium of the father, who puzzled me for many nights, by a well-dressed character, and extraordinary command of language. My new friends, having been long resident in Italy, introduced me to many Roman families whom I should otherwise scarcely have fallen in with, to whose kindness I am indebted for many subsequent obligations. In company with H. and his amiable wife, I visited, among other places, the Hospital of San Michele, for which purpose he had obtained a private order from Cardinal Tosti, the resident director of the institution. At this admirable establishment, five hundred of the Roman youth of both sexes are clothed and maintained, having also the advantage of a good education, and the opportunity of qualifying themselves for any trade that may appear most suitable to their tastes. A young Italian showed us over the building, which is situated on the right bank of the Tiber, below the Ponte Rotto. We found a number of youths busied at various artistical occupations, such as architectural drawing, engraving on copper, cartooning, music, tapestry, and the cutting of pietra dura and camei, whilst on the ground-floor were sculptors’ studios, and shops for weavers and dyers of cloth.

In another part of the establishment were the girls, likewise employed in various branches of useful labour, as spinning, weaving, and the manufacture of army ornaments. All those of the Papal troops are made here, from the coloured flames on the coat-tails of the recruit, to the pink plume of the Swiss guard. The bed-rooms are particularly neat and comfortable, some of the dormitories containing as many as fifty beds. In answer to an inquiry from one of our party, why some of these beds were larger than others, resembling in fact a genuine four-poster, the old lady who conducted us informed us that, in the event of a marriage taking place in the institution, the fortunate couple were presented with a good bed and its furniture by way of a portion. We saw the kitchens, which are admirably fitted up, the girls acting as cooks for the female department. In a spacious yard were an incredible number of hens, each girl keeping as many as she can afford to nourish, disposing of the eggs to furnish pocket-money.

From San Michele we drove back to the Quirinal, to view the palace of the Pope, which, of all the regal dwellings I ever visited, is decidedly the least ostentatious. Our guide informed us that stuffed chair-bottoms were forbidden, and certainly the seats in the reception room, which were of painted wood and of the most ordinary description, seemed to corroborate his assertion. The private rooms of the great Vicar were nevertheless somewhat more comfortable, and in one apartment, a well-appointed billiard-table evinced a degree of luxury ill-according with the rest of the furniture. Fancy Cardinal B——i, starring with two lives and pocketing the Pope!

As W. and I were one day dozing after dinner in the “Via Gregoriana,” Settimio silently ushered in a tall figure, whose face, as he peered at us over the baize screen, I recognized as that of my old friend Mr. Raven. He was on his way to England, after having spent many years of usefulness in Egypt, in the personal direction of the Overland transit, which had now passed into other hands. How he had managed to discover my whereabouts, was of no moment; few visitors could have been more welcome; and finding that he proposed spending some days in Rome, to give his protegeé and travelling companion an opportunity of seeing some of its wonders, I offered to assist him to the best of my ability. My friends had arrived just in time to witness some of the ceremonies of the Holy Week, and had the satisfaction of seeing one of the grand processions in St. Peter’s, and hearing the solemn music of the Sistine. At the former, the King of Naples, although not wearing any uniform, was conspicuous among the crowd, which was dotted in all parts with our militia officers, whose cocked hats and gay coats, have a very imposing appearance in the eyes of the worthy Romans, who don’t know a recruiting sergeant from a field marshal.

The English Church, to which I have before alluded as being little better than a mere barn, is outside the Porta del Popolo. It seems strange that this manifestation of intolerance should exist in a capital like Rome, and it is to be hoped that the more enlightened policy which has marked the opening of the new Pontificate, will be allowed to extend to matters of greater moment than the licensing of itinerant hawkers, or the extension of iron-roads throughout the Papal states, and that before long, it will be unnecessary for those professing with the Church of England to pass beyond the walls of the city, to reach their place of worship. This veto, however, would hardly appear to extend to those who dissent therefrom, inasmuch as for many weeks, W. and I attended the little meeting of Friends, which was held in a small street leading out of the Piazza di Spagna. We met in a little room belonging to the apartment of our friend B——n, which opened at one side on to the leads of the house underneath, and at the back looked out upon the slopes of the Pincian Hill. I often thought (when my thoughts should have been better engaged) that, had any of the good friends from the benches of Devonshire House popped in accidentally upon us, they would have found some difficulty in recognising a gathering of their own particular people. Although few in number, we mustered some black moustaches, and, I believe, a beard or two, whilst our female friends, of whom we had the company of four or five, would, I fear, scarcely have passed muster at the great May Meeting in Bishopsgate. With respect to the hat, to which some attach so distinguished an importance, the most fastidious would hardly have found fault, for the remotest corners of Pennsylvania never gave birth to a more preposterous breadth of brim, than that possessed by my own cinque-cento, whilst those of my friends were of such dimensions as best suited the sunny climate of Rome.