The national era. [volume] (Washington [D.C.]) 1847-1860, 1859-11-10
For the National Era.
A PALACE IN GEN 0A.
III.
CddeRd66id.
BY EDWARD SPENCER.
-" ceue vie ennivranie,


-" cetie vie ennivran,e
Que lie soleil da sud inspire a tous les sens"
"W. D. M."-representing the name of Mr..
William Denham Merivale, or W. Denham
Merivale, as he preferred to write it, having an
especial adherence of the nickname "Bill y
W. D. NJ. was printed in large Roman capitals
upon the portfolio that was carelessly resting in
that window of the pleasant inn at Cadenabbia,
and begin this chapter with them. But do
so openly, as becomes US when in this bright
Italian sunlight, and without any thought of
using them to mask a covert meaning or an
insinuation, equally without any attempt to
embody in them, as symbols and cabala, that
grand mysterious power which was impaired to
those apparently harmless letters which stand
as sentinels in advance of divers chapters of
the Koran-a power given them by the Prophet
himself, and power so divine in its high-reach-
ing grasp, so deep in the efficacy of its infinite
subtle ramfcations, that all the commentators
together from Abubekr at Mecca, with his chest,
down to Abd'l Kader at Amboise, have fallen
short of thorough comprehension of them in
their ensemble, and likewise, says skeptical
Anti-Moslem world, of any and every particu-
lar of them, for the very best reason in the
world, since their entire meaning is locked up
within the compass of right Turkish word,
which we spell with four letters: B oshi
If were to tell you where that portfolio has
been, what are its contents, and whose eyes
and hands have examined them, you would
long much for half hours inspection of it,
with Merivale by your side, to tell you the story
Of each sketch, and give it new life and new
beauty to your eyes by the superadded frame of
his charming individuality. For our friend has
been Italy over, feasting his soul and making
skillful his hand, profting everywhere after his
own fashion by that al fatal gift Of. beauty"
which poets have sung and travellers have
yearned after, since the Gauls of Brennus
bearded those solemn Senators in the temple,
and since Titynes piped his sylvan strain " sub
tegBlile tdgi." And there are sketches here
which that dear, womanly face the one we all
go love, has smiled to see, viewing them in the
light that came through g Casa Guidi win
dows "a light that shines eqaly bright upon
Italy free or Italy slave. There are sketches
here which have been peered over and crit-
NiISu ny AiuSIlCd DTdNSSI WOudD she WHOM
America welcomed home to her bleak shores
with the icy kiss Of death. But those sketches
are but few and far between, by no means
giving their chief interest to the collection
For tbs years since Merivale was in Rome, and
Florence, his place of foot rest so long as he
stays abroad, has missed him lonq-it is six
months since he spoke of Art, and listened to
the murmur of voices m the Cafe Douey-six
months away from Ghiberti's gates of Para
dise"-six months since he feHthe odor of that
bright consummate flower" of architecture
Bruneleschi's some-since he gazed upon Gil
otto's Dante-drove upon the Cascine, and
climbing the height of Fiesole, magnificent
Lorenzo's pride, drank the sweet draught of
natures sweetest gifts, watching tAe river how
1t steals along, winding silver Wread where
on is strung, in pearly rows the far-famed elo-
quence of objects of which Val d ArnO boasts.
Yet perhaps he did not regret them. Mis-.
tress of his heart though Florence was, and
ever to have the firstlings and choice fruits of
his love, he found beauty and pleasing grace
IN other scenes, as his portfolio testifies amply
enough. He had been on a long excursion,
and he had remembrances of many varied
scenes, from the foot of the Alps TO the rippled
gold of Como. He dared not yet to take up
the gauntlet Of the smallest glacier, much less
the thunderous steel one of Blanc, or the pearl
and dappled forests of blue sky and lake nurs
ing valleys, he had abundance to show. Why
catalogue them? There was Brieg, and there
were the Borromeo gardens on Isola Madre
there were eagle-nest villages of Savoy, and
matronly smiling villas of Como; there was
lovely Davedro, ike jewel over the brow Of
the terrific Simplon, there Carlo Bor-
romeo's shrine, shining from afar like the fash
OF kings sword as he waves his men on to
the combat; one two sketches of life-a
peasant GIRL an infant asleep, and some fancy
pieces, attempting to reproduce the grotesque
biZareries ofthe Venetian Gozzi--miserablefa fail
ures, tmust be confessed, for, however fond Meri-
vale might have been of literature dams la ma
mere de Cdliot, his genius was too rounded, too
sunshny, too methodical, for him ever to think OF
reproducing that sty lie on canvas or on Bristol pa
per. Bamboche's violin might fiddle innumer-
able cap1icchios in his ear, but his pencil could
not be made to dance to them. Now, with Ca
denabbia as his basis of operations, he has for
fortnight been engaged in picturing the beau
ties OF Como and its environs, from Lugano be-
yond, to the stately prettinesses of Villa Soma
riva, with its fountain, which imn,errinnet,"
ITS tresco. of Narcissus, and its frieze by Thor
Waldsen. Our artist is happy, free-and-easy
genius, and an American, and mine host at
Sadenabbia, with all his people, from little
Ionl and rosy Observation-Disclosures, he calls
her-to Giacomo and Giovan, are unanimous
y of opinion that Ii Signor Merivale is man
altogether Incompatible the more so, that he
orders them all about with such odhumored
imperativeness. Not that this airy way he has
OF teRendo IL ldzzo is an index of the mans ma
ture-for this, we shall see, is of much greater
depth than that-it is simply result of his
healthy, robust manhood, and his bright, hap
Py soul, acted upon by darling realization of
ms artistic dreams and by this fair sky of Italy
The beggar sings in Venice, even when he
sSttarves; and if you toss him few kreutzers or
are, ne buys himself melon, and sings on as
before. Yet, Notwithstanding he hath this free
ana spontaneous habit of song, the Hapsburgh
puts him into his cage, burns out his dancing
eyes, and whistles to him, to a tune of Strauss,
ihese sombre words alone submit or die
submit or dieI" Stupidest white-coated Te-
aeschil do you not know that the very air