The Liverpool Standard and General Commercial Advertiser.
Liverpool, Merseyside, England, 1855-12-11 00:00:00

AND GENERAL C

LIVERPOOL, TUESDAY, DECEMBER 11, 1855.

Salvator Rosa and the stately mas- months. Hindoos, Russians, Chinese, Spaniards, Pm-,
ambiguity of
ltiutgaunesse Englishmen,
k Frenchmen,d Genoese, Neapo-
siveness of Poussin. To these inestimably valua-
ble peculiarities he adds all the advantages which thes'come to tersacdeen descendants t
Ms
a fromrse i l 1
easl l
Titans,builders Venetians,
of Babel,Gree - Turks,
can be derived from a keen appreciation of the sought the shade alike—taking refuge in any hiding:
realities of life which he perceives clearly place from a sea too intensely blue to be looked
through all the mazy intricacies of situation and at, and a sky of purple, set with one great flaming jewel
of fire
the distorting influences of conventional arrange- The. universal stare made the eyes ache. Towards the
ments—which he analyses with the care and distant line of Italian coast, indeed, it was a little relieved
nicety of the most exact mental chemistry. That by light clouds of mist, slowly rising from the evaporation
of the sea ; but it softened nowhere else. Far away the
the emanations of a mind so richly and so
ssttaarriendgfroromadths,e
hollow,deep in dust,
fromt,startehde fromit the
interminable plain.
variously gifted are eagerly looked for and cor-
dially welcomed, is a matter affording no room Far away the dusty vines overhanging way side cottages,pa
for surprise, but the contrary. Each one of his and the monotonous wayside avenues of parched trees
now numerous contributions to our national without shade, drooped beneath the stare of earth and sky.
literature has been received in its turn by his ad- creeping e didindrowsyinbteelrliso,ri.n loondgdfitlhesi of carts,
the
slowly ho horses e
towards
0 withwa rd
s the
recum-
miring countrymen and countrywomen with an bent drivers, when they were awake', which rarely r
hap-
avidity which gave clearest evidence of the de- pened; so did the exhausted labourers in the fields. Every-
light imparted by its predecessor. Of him it may thing that lived or grew, was oppressed by the glare ;
except the lizard, passing swiftly over rough stone-walls,
be truly said— and the cicala, chirping his dry hot chirp, like a rattle.
And still he wrote, and still the wonder grew, The very dust was scorched brown, and something
That one small head could carry all he knew. quivered in the atmosphere as if the air itself were panting.
To attempt an analysis of the tale which Blinds, shutters, curtains, awnings, were all closed and
i arrow.th The
keepdrawntodit shot in like a white out the stare. Grant hot
Grant it
out of
of but a chink or
Dickens intends to lay before his readers, under
the quaint title of `c Little Dorrit," from the keyhole,churches an
were the freest from it
. Tocome
contents of the opening number, and before he twilight of pillars and arches—dreamily dotted with wink-
himself has even in person introduced the he- ing
lamps, dreamily peopled with ugly old shadows piously
dozing, spitting, and begging—was to plunge into a fiery
roine from whom the story derives its title,
river, and swim for life to the nearest strip of shade. So,
would be as presumptuous as it must necessarily with people lounging and lying wherever shade was' with
prove unedifying. We shall not attempt the but little hum of tongues or barking of dogs, with occa-
performance of so fruitless a task, but shall Con- sional jungling of discordant church bells, and- rattling of
fine ourselves to the more pleasing, as it is also the vicious drums, Marseilles, a fact to be strongly smelt and
tasted, lay broiling in the sun one day.
easier and more becoming, service of laying before
In contrast to this unmitigated glare, which,
our readers an extract or two, which, whetting,
in its aerial transparency and enervating fervour,
as we have no doubt they will do, the curiosity of
may rival the most glowing scenes by Canaletti,
all who peruse them, will conduce yet farther to
we have a picture, equally powerful, of London
their gratification, by inducing them to " read,
under the influence of its Sunday sombreness, as
mark, and learn" for themselves the progress of
that strikes the lively eye of Dickens. Instead
the story, as it is developed in the succeeding
of giving this, however, in which, to an English
numbers. In following this course, however, it
eye at least, there is less of novelty, we prefer
cannot be improper to remark that Dickens, in
transporting our friends, at the proper cost of
this work, so far as it can be at present judged,
Mr. Dickens, to a scene of sufficient moral and
forsaking the hitherto beaten track of • strictly
hysical gloom in the same sunny city of Mar-
English manners, costume moral and physical,
p
seilles. The locale is a prison ; the actors, or
and scenery, intends to convey his readers
rather the actor in the scene, is a dashing French
through some portions of the Continent, and
there to feed their imaginations and to gratify adventurer—who, in picturesque boldness of con-
their fancy by a gorgeous banquet of such ception and vigour of delineation, will bear corn-
" weeds and wild-flowers" as may present them- Parison with any of Salvator's bandits—and a
selves to him as worthy of presentation in poor Italian smuggler, named Cavalletto, who
forms a striking contrast to the "bold, bad man:'
those " fresh fields and pastures new."
MONSIEUR RIGAUD.
Premising that the headings are our own
" What an infernal hole this is!" said Monsieur Rig,Mi,
our opening shall be. a picture of breaking a long pause. " Look at the light of day. Day ?
MARSEILLES AND ITS SUNSHINE. The light of yesterday week, the light of six months ago,
Thirty years ago, Marseilles lay burning in the sun, the light of six years ago. So slack and dead!" It came
one day. languishing down a square funnel that blinded a window
A blazing sun upon a fierce August day was no greater in the staircase wall,
lthrough,
Cavalletto,"
h the sky. was never
rarity in southern France then, than at any other time, seen—nor a-thing,.e se.
.‘
.said Monsieur
before or since. Everything in Marseilles, and about Rigaud. , suddenly withdrawing his case from this funnel,
Marseilles,. had stared at the fervid sky, and been stared
at in return, until a staring habit had become universal to which they had both involuntarily turned their eyes,
there. Strangers were stared out of countenance by iyou know me for a gentleman ?"—" Surely, surely !"
" How long have we been here ?"—" I, eleven weeks,
staring white houses, staring white walls
streets, staring tracts of arid road, staring hills fromg whichwl to-morrow night at midnight. You, nine weeks and three
days, at five this afternoon."--cc Have I ever done any-
verdure was burnt away. The only things to be seen not
fixedly staring and glaring were the vines drooping under thinghere ? Ever touched the broom, or spread the mats,
or rolled them up, or found the draughts, or collected the
their load of grapes. These did occasionally wink a little, dominoes, or put my hand to any kind of work ?"
as the hot air barely moved their faint leaves.
" Never!"—cc
Have Y ever thought of looking to me to
There was no wind to make a ripple on the foul water do any kind of work you"
John 1-iaptist answered with that
within the harbour, or on the beautiful sea without. The peculiar back-handed shake of the right forefinger which
line of demarcation between the two colours, black is the most expressive negative in the Italan language.
and blue, shewed the point which the pure sea would cc
not
it never mixed. Boats without awnings were
pass; but it lay as quiet as the abominable pool, with , No ! You knew from the first moment when you saw
me here, that I was a gentleman ?"—" Ar.TRO !" re-
whichthe , turned. John Baptist, closing his eyes and giving his head
too hot to touch ; ships blistered at their moorings ;
stones on the quays had not cooled night or day, for 1 a most vehement toss. The word being, according to its
Genoese emphasis, a confirmation, a contradiction, an