The national era. [volume] (Washington [D.C.]) 1847-1860, 1856-09-25
From Chambers Journal.
THE MODERN ST. CATHERINE.
A ROMANCE OF A PICTURE.

Venture with me, gentle reader, into a Dor
ton of the great Metropolis; permit me to lead
you through the haunts of the aliens in Leicester
Square, past the Panopticon and Mr.. Wylds,
"the gorgeous palace and the great globe ITSELF"
into a little street which thence communicates
with the Strand. 1t has not the air of heredi-
tary grandeur and past magnifcence; no torch
extinguishers project before doors at which
sedan and coach we're wont in olden times to
take up and set down no high black windows
scowl there in deserted state, through which
the light once flashed from chandelier and mir
ror in the nights of ombre, basset, and qua
drille nor is it aristocratic now. Its principal
productions, as we may see and smell quite
easily, are onions, republican serials, red her
rings, old books, and old clothes; yet it is in
this place the first scene of our romance is laid,
and your first introduction to St. Catherine must
needs take place. And why should it not be
so The drama of real life can be acted with.
out the theatrical vestments, and, alas too
often without any vestments at all; and for q
sanity heroine, where better shall We look for
her nova days than by the poor mans side T?
l make no apology, then, for introducing you
to Blank street, and especially to the book-stall
on Il the sas lsft;hapd tln Td.sS side sao ~..
footsteps at that dingy shop its contents con-
sisted chiefly of odd back numbers of obscure
periodicals, bound up together with the same
misplaced economy that actuates him who
amalgamates his "a B Cs" and "Bradshaws -
the paintings, also, with which the interior was
hung, were most hideous daubs. / was soon
satisfied, and upon the point of passing on,
when, as turned my head 10 60, picture upon
the open door, which had hitherto been out of
my vision, concentrated at once my whole at
tention upon it, in JOY and admiration. l my
self have little or no artistic taste one or two
water-color paintings of scenes that are dear to
me adorn my little room, for the sake of their
associations rather than their merits; along
with some engravings OF Tu- ler's Italian works,
to remind me, in the noisome city, Of summer
and blue skies. My few artistfriends, in.
deed, make merry at my utter inability to pick
out the gems of an exhibition, except for the
crowd surrounding them; but was certain
and positive of the worth and beauty of the
jewel in this dungh;H. 1t was the full-length
portrait of woman a little past the prime OF
life, not beautiful, though full of grace with a
plying fondness in her hazel eyes, and an as
suring smile upon her lips, which seemed to
breathe consolation and offer succor from the
dirty and cobwebbed canvass. 1t wss c,eariy nc
work of the old masters, nor any imitation oi
them; but the blaeks had blown down upon it in
its exposed situation, and the rain had attempt
ed to "clean it in its off.hand and acedemical
style, and every dirty arm that entered the shop
must needs have given it "colOring" and
"tone" for months, SO that it looked almost as
well as Rembrasdt's own. With flushed cheek
and anxious voice most unbecoming in a pur
chaser, asked its price. twenty-five pounds
was the gruff reply, given like piece of gov
ernment intelligence, over which he, the off cial
had no sort of control. The animal knew was
hooked, and jerked me quite remorselessly a,
once, instead of playing With me off and on
The money was as far above what / was JUST
fed in spending, as beneath what felt to be
the true value of the picture. 1t hangs opposite
to me as / write this, and, poor as / am, have
refused 200 guineas for it. To all my questions
as to how, when, and where, he had purchased
it, the dealer refused to give any sort of answer
The picture was there, he said, to be bought OF
let alone "a very vulgar expression-as
| thought proper and the most could extrac,
| from him, was not to sell it within four-and
| twenty hours.
Putting by the business 1 had in hand, be
took myself to an accomplished friend, paint
er BY nature as we'll as by profession, and re
turned with him to the shop. At first sight, be
| thought it wonderful that such portrait could
have hung there for day without purchaser
but when we took it down to examine it more
closely, he found world of faults one hand
was pointed skywards, and the other closed
round some object which we could not for the
dirt decipher; the elbow was too foreshortened
and the fingers out of joint he said; the dra
perry, with most of the accessories, which were
few enough, was yet unfinished, and the clouds
were certainly what he denominated "spongy.'
The face was, however, without q flaw, and il
seemed to me as if that wonderful effort had
taken the painters whole attention, and ex
hausted all his skill. The frame wss ugly, and
sufficiently unsuitable. When had paid the
money, however, my friend offered me f35 70,
the purchase, to the intense disgust of the deal
er and l drove off with my prize homeward
exulting in its possession, and with not little
of the satisfaction, so pardonable in a Briton
of having made an excellent bargain.
spent two days in the careful and iudicious
cleansing OF my prize; every hour gave ts
that employment, drawing me closely to the ex
quisite face, begat warmer interest in the
painter, and in her he had portrayed. In the
lefthsnd corner of the picture, and at the bach
| of it, there was written the word Catherine ,
and l845" for date. 1t took me time and
pains to get that much intelligence, for letters
and figures had been carefully painted oyer
| and that was ali. But three months previous
ly, then, in all probability, the author of this
| work was living.
With my curiosity more sharpened than ever