The Sun.
London, England, 1853-08-08 00:00:00

OUR SECOND SWEETBEART,

A private view of the pictures took place on Satur
day, at the gallery of the British Artists, Suffolk-street,
which have been selected by the prizeholders of the
Art-Union of London. As these pictures have already
been noticed in these columns, when they were first
seen in the various exhibitions of the present year, it
will not be necessary to allude to them at any length.
The most remarkable change which we observed by
the difference of hanging,
was No. 4 of the present
catalogue, entitled "The City of Syracuse, from the
antient quarries where the Athenians were impri-
soned, B.C. 413," Which, certainly, does not gain in
our esteem by being brought nearer to the eye, and
therefore justifies the high position in which it was
placed at the Royal Academy, concealing, as it did,
the pre-Ra,ffaelite detail of the near objects, and
proves that " distance lends enchantment to the view."
The price paid for it, namely, 2501., the odd 501. in
excess of the prize being added by the Hon. F. Lygon,
is at least highly creditable to the liberality of that
gentleman. Another example of a similar kind will be
found in the selection, by Mr. T. H. Maudslay, of a
view of " Cwm Ogar, Glamorganshire, No. 84," by T.
Tennant, the amount of prize being only 801., and the
price of picture 1251. In this instance we not only
compliment the buyer on his liberal spirit, but also
congratulate him on having vindicated his judgment in
selecting a fine, deep-toned, and powerfully painted pic-
ture well worth the sum he has paid for it. The rest of
the pictures have found buyers at about the valuation
put upon them by the artists, and do not, conse-
quently, require further notice in that respect. We
cannot help saying, however, that No. 44, " The First
Appearance of Columbus in Spain," by Mr. Hurl-
stone, is very reasonable at 1501., and Mr. H. Wilson
ought to be well satisfied with having obtained, on
terms so easy, by far the best picture the artist ever
painted, and we are not quite certain whether, upon
the whole, it is the most suggestive production of the
year. "The Walk to Emmaus, by Mr. Henry War-
ren, is a water-colour drawing of considerable preten-
sions ; and although the general breadth of style in
which it is treated is rather interfered with by the
botanical detail, of which we complained when it was
first exhibited, still we are happy that this approach
to the high style of art should have found a liberal
patron, to the extent of one hundred guineas, in the
person of Mr. W. A. Richmond. These are the the
person points of the present exhibition of prizes—
the remainder consist of specimens by many of the
established favourites, and when the difficulty of ob-
taining a picture to fit the amount of the prize, and
to suit the fancy of the prizeholder, together with the
frequent want of pecuniary means to make the neces-
sary addition to obtain a more desirable picture, are
taken into consideration, we think that it must be ad-
mitted that the present display of selections gives a
rather favourable indication than otherwise of a gradual
improvement in the public taste, and sastains the hope
that great benefit will be ultimately derived from the
lottery of the Art-Union.
-.-..•••••••......1••••

HORRIBLE DEATH.—On Friday last a frightful acci-
dent occurred to a young man named William Abbott,
engaged as foreman painter, in the employ of Messrs.
Heathcote and Co., of Tiverton, which shortly after-
wards terminated fatally. It appears that, on the day
in question, the deceased was at work at Wiveliscombe,
when he accidentally fell into a partly filled furnace of
boiling liquid ; the unfortunate sufferer was, after a short
space, rescued by some persons taking hold of him by
the hair of the head. Surgical aid was called in, but the
case was hopeless, and the poor fellow, after lingering in
great agony, breathed his last the following morning,—
Exacr amette.

nt EtIZA COOK.

( From Eliza Cook's foarnal).
Do not think, gentle reader, that we intend to indite a
book of revelations, touching all the wooers we have
had in our train : certainly not ? We shall betray no serious
feeling, and trespass upon no delicate ground. No
breach of faith shall be made in any way ; but as the
harmless truth of the portraiture of poor Ben Hewitt,
our " first sweetheart," appeared to give general satis-
faction, we are induced to believe that a few words re-
lative to Tom Ashton, our second devoted admirer, may
prove welcome to those who can smile over " simple

annals."
At the time of this " tender attachment," we were
living in the suburbs of London, and had just arrived at
what should be, and what really was with us, the gawky
rollicking age of twelve. We are perfectly aware that in
this fast age, young ladies of such a matured span begin to
have definite notions of bridal dresses, and learn to "con-
duct themselves with propriety ;" but we were brought up
in a different atmosphere. We had a mother who cared
much more for our principles and constitution, than for
our politeness and conventionalism, and we had the
constant fellowship of brothers, with whom we played,
quarrelled, and fought, on the broadest system of
"Liberty, Equality, and Fraternity," to say nothing of
our natural predilection for anything save " worsted
work," or "sitting up like a lady." It must be admitted
that we were about as rude a specimen of primitive
Tomboyism as ever horrified a finishing governess. We
were " dreadfully uninformed," often tore our frocks and
trousers, and scorned a parasol ; but our spine was
perfectly straight, our disposition as frank as daylight,
and our mind untouched by the sentiment of French
novels. We were quite as innocent as when Ben Hewitt
lifted us up and kissed us, just as a life guardsman might
Tom Thumb ; and we had certainly lost nothing of the
audacity which had prompted us to empty Dame
Hewitt's jug of camomile tea and fill it with her best
October brewing instead. The four years which had
passed over our head had done little for it but deepen
the shade of its curls. Would to Heaven the darkening
shadows had always kept outside ! We had acquired
.no accomplishments beyond a most crude notion of ex-
ercising our toes in Paine's First Set, and our fingers in
the Battle of Prague, and a pretty mess we often made
of both,—in short, we were as wild and wilful as any
scion of civilised humanity could be, and have often won-
dered since how we grew up into such a quiet reserved
adults as we proved.
At this time our brothers made acquaintance with
Tom Ashton—a small-limbed, dark-skinned, black-
headed boy of about thirteen. He was the only child of
a corn-factor in the neighbourhood, had never known his
mother, and had been brought up between a very severe
aunt and a very indulgent father. Tom held that ex-
treme degree of contempt for anything in petticoats
which we often see entertained by boys of that age, and
when he excluded us from "Catch-ball," refused to turn
the skipping-rope for us, and said we were not wanted
at "Hide and Seek," our amazement and indignation
were not slight. He impressed our brothers, too, and
they were becoming despotic in their adoption of the
Salle law. Tom evidently despised us. We bore his
abominable conduct as well and as long as we could, but
at last the crisis came. We were working in a strip of
ground, honoured by the name of garden, and with a
tool in our hand, known as "a dibber," were planting
scarlet beans. In came the boys, with Tom Ashton,
and of course we must "get out of the way" directly,
and let them finish the beans.
There, be off," said Tom, " and give me that dibber."
" I shan't," was our emphatic and laconic reply.
" Yes you shall," said he, "for I want it directly,"
and he forthwith attempted to take it by force. We
resisted vigorously. At length he gave us, not exactly
" a blow," but something between a hard gripe and a
desperate "shove," which sent the blood of all the
Howards into our right arm ; and we have to record the
disgraceful fact of positively knocking him down with
the dibber, and that our brothers cheered us lustily for
the feat. Tom got up, looking very crest fallen, tried to
cough, and said it was " only his fun ;" while we stood
over our yard and a half of beans with is face like a
crimson "passion flower," if there be such a thing, and
quite ready and willing to " fight it out," if necessary;
but Tom's masculine tyranny was crushed for ever;
whether it arose from admiration or fear of our courage,
we never questioned ; but certain it is, that he was in-
spired with a different feeling toward us from that
moment. He allowed us to bathe his temple, only beg-
ging that none of us would tell a word about the affray.
He wanted to shake hands and make it up ; and on the
instant we offered him the disputed dibber, the rest of
the beans, and a lot of sweet peas into the bargain.
Tom's nerves were rather too much astonished to allow
him to accept our generosity just then, but he came the
next morning, black eye and all, and while he set the
beans, we covered them with earth. Adam and Eve
could not have agreed better in Eden. He even insisted
on carrying the heavy watering-pot for us—an attention
which we soon after returned in the shape of a beautiful
new marble-bag. Tom never turned us out of any game
we could play at, after this incident ; and if we hap-
pened to be reading a fairy tale while the boys were at
leap-frog, he would suddenly leave them, and asked if
we would read it " out loud" to him. Then Tom began
to give us ounces of " hardbake," wholesale portions of
peppermint, and as for parched peas, the amount de-
voured between us was unknown.
Within a short period, the annual vacation ball was
given at Tom's school, and we were among the invited.
During the preceding fortnight, Tom betrayed a strange
anxiety to learn a few steps, and actually asked his father
to let him join the dancing class, applying himself so suc-
cessfully that a quadrille ceased to be a mystery, and a
bow a disgraceful impossibility. We shall never forget
his asking us to be his partner in the first set, nor how he
stooped to tie our sandal, nor how he took a large slice
of cake with extra citron upon it apparently for himself,
and slily insisted on exchanging it for our sweetmeatless
piece, nor how he squeezed our hand at breaking up ;
but then Tom had had a number of glasses of negus.
One day we admired a pair of primrose gloves on a
young gentleman, and when Tom next appeared he
sported a new pair of pale yellow kids, which har-
monised beautifully with a very school-boyish jacket and
trowsers, all grease and grub, and considerably whitened
at the wrists and knees. Then we fancied some white
mice, and Tom brought us a " darling" pair in a round-
about cage ; but as the perfume from these little ani-
mals affords no trace of rose or jasmine, an ejectment
of summary character was served on them by our
paternal guardian, to Tom's great vexation, and so
severely did he threaten the peace and well-being of the
ejector, that we trembled lest he should commit a per-
sonal and murderous assault on the head of the family ;
however, the mice were ensconced in Mr. Ashton 's
corn-loft, and Tom was never so happy as when he
could persuade us to go there three times a day just to
see how they were getting on. We went on in this
fashion for two years, when matters become so serious on
Tom's part that he worried his father for a tailed coat,
and had the temerity to send us a valentine. It came
very early in the morning, and put a temporary stop to
the rapid consumption of a huge slice of bread and but-
ter. It consisted of a sheet of highly-glazed post, em-
bossed with pink, blue, and silver flowers of some
"genus" unknown, saving that they are generally seen
to grow in " fools' paradise." In the centre was a re-
markably plump Cupid, in ballet costume, flinging a
remarkably plump heart at a young lady with scarlet
roses and yellow shoes, and the perspective afforded a
miniature likeness of St. George's, Hanover-square, and
a sort of sage-green gooseberry bush with a couple of
doves perched thereon. Beneath the imposing emblems,
the following original lines were printed:—
Loved of my soul, this heart of mine
I give to thee—Oh give me thine ;
But if thou wilt not deign to take it,
Thy cruel words I feel will break it;
and in an autograph P.S. was added, "your most de•
voted admirer, T.A." We remember that many remarks
were made on the subject, which we could not fully under-
stand. We distinctly heard our parents declare that valen-
tines in general were very silly things, and that Tom's one
in particular was the silliest of the silly; and Mary in the
kitchen, to whom we confidentially showed it, said some-
thing about "Master Ashton being rich when he ‘growed
up,' and being able to keep us a carriage if we'd like to
marry him by-and-by,"—both observations being swept
from our consideration by the announcement of " Punch
and Judy" being before the door. At this period, Tom
was placed out in the world at a merchant's office, and
we were taken into the rural shades of extreme Surrey,
where we grew and flourished along with the other weeds
and wild flowers. Tom had given us a " love of a work-
box" before we parted, and we had presented him with
a tiny silver snuff-box, of no earthly use to either ; but
people generally do make presents of what the recipients
least need. Tom had uttered many words of folly on the
strength of the valentine, and wanted us to promise ,
eternal love and fidelity ; our parents were too wise to
interfere in the matter, or possibly we might have
deemed our case a very important one, and obstinately
have fallen in love with Tom ; as it was, we only thought
it "a bit of fun." During the summer months, Tom
kept asking for undue holidays and got them (what a
premium his father must have paid), and came down to
our cottage on the pretence of fishing. As autumn
to
came on he merged into a considerable dandy, began
talk a great deal, and whistled opera airs when we asked
him to climb the wild cherry-tree for us. At last he
began to hint that we were not sufficiently womanly,
and did not think enough of ourselves—information which
we could not quite fathom the meaning of, but which
nevertheless excited an inclination to box his ears. Then
he mentioned the charms of Miss Louisa Newton, his
master's niece, and implied that she was a very superior
young lady to what we were. She had such lovely black
hair in Grecian bands (ours was only common brown,
and strongly emulative of limp corkscrews), her skin was
like the spring snowdrop (ours was the tint of autumn
wheat), her eyes were a sparkling black (ours were sober
grey), she danced like a fairy, she sang like a syren,
she talked like an angel, and in short it was becoming
quite evident that Miss Newton had knocked him down
with another sort of dibber. How lucky it was we had
not vowed eternal fidelity ! How lucky that we become
perfectly indifferent
wrr
ys sing
about his attentions !
btu ls awsc kea usb
boastinge alwayswoi
nthe
ready
tnt
dtl Little
wDhi
acl
pkt
ndll
sildoe
eh
nee
tpwmohneoyer,lewo?
rr i
rgrg
oho
day of how many times he had danced with the above-
named lady at the Polish ball, and how she had compli-
mented him on his white teeth, until we lost all patienee;
so upstairs we went and brought down the huge workbox :
"Here, Tom," said we, " take back this rubbishing thing,
for it s no use to us, and don't come bothering down here
'
again,agai n fbour nobody
was t
ewdaenvtost youed ; " and Tom sever
ever did
ata c
comehiswains-
o afterwardsf Miss Newton for a
whole year. We met him four years
wick
usfe that Tom
itha verywas a fie
fair-hairedkle young lady. A friend
told
a
fresh affection every few months,
quicksilver,andand had a
sure
enough
heard within another year thathe engagedwas
girl ; however, he broke that off, ands
another chughtir of Eye, and this
gava
workboxes t o a Spanishwt,oe
is ths way Tom wen

-- -
Lorenzo Benoni ; or, Passages in the Life of an
Italian. Constable and Co., Edinburgh.
The reader may form whatever opinion he
pleases as to the object of the author, for the work
may be considered a work of fiction, an anto-
biography, or, what it appears to us more strictly
to be, reminiscences of early days, written by an
Italian refugee. The thoroughly English style in
which the book is written proves beyond doubt
that the author must have lived long in this
country. The first half of the narrative is con-
fined to the childhood and school-life of Lorenzo,
which, but for the occasional introduction of
amusing anecdote and description of particular
character, . and a brief sketch of the manner in
which Italian education was carried on some thirty
years ago, would prove tedious to the reader, if
his risible faculties were not awakened by the ex-
traordinary precocity of children of from ten to
thirteen years of age ; for certain Lorenzo Benoni
had an overweening self-esteem as a boy. On his
leaving college he becomes a great dandy, which,
however, he is soon ridiculed out of by his uncle'
a matter-of-fact Genoese merchant, who, in all his
after-troubles, is his staunch friend. His mode of
life is a sample of that of the generality of the
Genoese merchants at that time :
"Uncle John's style of living was, like that of the
greater number of the burghers of Genoa at that time,
simple, and even parsimonious. The house in which
he lived was situated in a narrow dirty street, as most
of the Genoese streets are. It was choked up in front
by another mansion rising just before it at the distance
of a few feet, and at the back overlooked a filthy yard.
In buying this house, some twenty years before, my
uncle had been determined by the single consideration
that it was not above five minutes' walk from Bauchi,
and that it was sure to let. As to air, open space, or
light, he had thought no more about them than if things
of the kind had never existed. Air, light, and prospect
were superfluities ; if you could have them into the
bargain, so much the better, if not, you did just as well
without.
" The suite of apartments which my uncle occupied on
the second floor—the other stories were let—was spa-
cious and lofty, but dark, and looked empty and cold.
It was, however, be it said to its credit, deliciously cool
in hot weather. The walls were whitewashed, and their
nakedness was 'rather set off to advantage, than con-
cealed, by the half dozen or so of old family portraits
that hung here and there. Thinly scattered through
the apartments, at a great distance from each other,
there stood a few old-fashioned, heavy, dark pieces of
furniture, looking so lonely in their corners as to make
one feel sorry for them. An ancient Venetian mirror,
six feet in height, a dozen old chairs covered with faded
yellow velvet, and an enormous clock in tortoiseshell of
exquisite workmanship, constituted all the luxury of the
drawing-room. But the walls of this drawing-room,
which was very large and lofty, were, by a happy excep-
tion, filled to an inch by pictures of the best Italian
Masters. No arm-chairs, no sofas, no carpets, no lamps,
nothing of all that contributes to comfort. Uncle John
did not feel the want of it, or rather was not aware that
there was such a thing in the world. He had, in
common with most of his countrymen, a strong pre-
judice against fire, which he declared to be very in-
jurious to health, and the only chimney that existed in
his apartment had been accordingly walled up. His
only precaution against the cold, sometimes intense,
consisted in rubbing his hands, or, in extreme cases, in
going out to walk.
" His meals were of patriarchial simplicity. A cup of
coffee for breakfast. For dinner, soup, most frequently
the national minestra aseiutta (that is, a pottage of
macaroni or other Italian paste, boiled for a short time,
then drained dry, and seasoned with gravy and par
mesan cheese), a dish of meat or fish, a salad, and frui
or cheese. For supper, a dish of boiled vegetables with
oil and vinegar, and nothing more. Such was the fare,
from which he never deviated, but which he imposed on
no one else, for his guests—when he had any, a thing of
rare occurrence—always found an excellent table at his
house. And on state occasions, such as his own birth-
day for instance, Uncle John would give us a truly
princely dinner, both as to the profusion of choice dishes
and wines, and as to the luxuries of linen, china, and
plate."
Being destined for the law by his father (who,
be it known, was an affable and agreeable com-
panion to the world, but a sulky old bear at
home), lie enters the high college, of the manage-
meat of which, and the conduct of the professors,
the author's own words can best express :
"It was strictly required of the professors that they
should call over the roll of their auditors at the beginning
of the lecture, and mark down those who might be
absent, After three absences thus proved, the profes-
sor was forbidden to give his signature to the student's
card, which occasioned a loss of three months. No-
thing so provoking was ever invented—nothing giving.
rise to so many acts of servility on the one side and of
gross partiality on the other, as this confounded system
of calling over the names. It was a sword of Damocles,
continually suspended over our heads, and really put us
at the mercy of our professors, for where was the student
sure of not being three times in three months a
minute
after the hour, and who might not want a little in-
dulgence on this score ? For the youth of independent
character, who was above condescending to entreaty.,
the fatal cross was scarcely ever effaced, whereas it
readily disappeared for one who could bow low, and
make himself acceptable by fawning.
"The letter was everything, the spirit nothing. The
student who showed himself assiduously at the lecture,
especially if very submissive, even although he never
looked at his books, stopped short at the most simple
question, and conducted himself in other respects no
matter how, fulfilled the letter of the law, and that was
sufficient—he was irreproachable. On the contrary, a
conscientious young fellow who was above cringing, let
him be ever so studious, ever so unimpeachable iu his
morals, was unmercifully pounced upon at the least in-
fraction of the letter of the law. The aim was to form
machines not men. The University was like a huge
press destined to squeeze out of the rising generation all
independence of spirit, all dignity, all self-respect ; and
when I pass in review the noble characters which never-
theless have escaped from this bed of Procrustes, I
cannot help thinking with pride what strong moral ele-
ments our much-slighted Italian nature must possess, to
come forth pure and vigorous from such a deleterious
atmosphere.
"A kind professor, who might sympathise with us—
and there were some such—dared not give way to his
good-will so much as he might have wished, for he knew
that he was watched as well as we, and that an unfavour-
able report might cost him his chair. The professors
and the students were equally subjected to the espion-
age of the servants of the University, such as porters,
beadles, janitors, watchmen, &c., &c., who were all in-
formers—informing being a condition, sine qua non, of
their obtaining and keeping their places. These wretches
did their best to overhear our conversations, which they
reported after their own fashion, sending up notes con-
cerning various individuals. They felt their power, and
used it like uneducated creatures as they were—that is'
by conducting themselves with rudeness and insolence.
And the student who might be tempted to make one of
these men know his place, entered upon a perilous un-
dertaking, for between the affirmation of a student and
that of a servant, the latter was sure to obtain cre-
dence." -

During this part of his career, being about
twenty-three years of age, he, together with his
brother and some old colege associates, begin to
take part in the political agitation which then agi-
tated Italy. The machinations of the Carbonari, to
which sect they belong, is, however, discovered,
and the little party is almost annihilated by the
sudden arrest of Fantasio, their leader, who is,
however, only banished from Italy ; and at Mar-
seilles again infuseglife and vigour into his party, and
organises another conspiracy, the fatal termination
of which took place in 1833. The tyranny exer-
cised over the inhabitants of Northern Italy, and
what the unfortunates suffered, is vehemently de-
picted, and many examples of injustice and oppres-
sion are given as examples, although the public
need them not, for they have but to read the daily
accounts from Milan, or any of the Italian states,
to meet with parallel cases :
" Piedmont lay prostrate under the worst of all des-
potisms, the despotism of the sword. Milituanryy
gover-
nors and commandants lorded it over the
bc:ingtr
true Pachas. The power of these mthen
unlimited, daily encroachments. on i urisd ilci country, like
the civil authorities became inevitab e ; and in the inex-
tricable confusion and constaintetosftreuogeghlea fsotratseuopfrethnzys:
which were the natural rheosu
knew neither where to seek
the peaceable citizen,
wf
course the sufferer. The fo
nor to find justice,
wassomo some idea of the dignity
lowing fact may
deration these higgih.vefuncAtiogneanritelsemdaisnpnlaoyteidlavt ther
raised
'be de-
charge of their dtTes
his hat as the carriage wohficohetnhoea
drove by,king
attackeded t
him, and, loadingthe Governorhhi witha the
most virulenth abuse,
h i
knocked his hat off i
gentleman belonged to one of the first families of Genoa,
and was moreover personally known to, and highly
esteemed by, the Emperor Alexander of Russia, with
whoa he frequently corresponded, To these circum-