The weekly north Iowa times. [volume] (McGregor, Iowa) 1857-1867, 1861-11-20
THE ARTISTS TRIUMPH IN pE
FEAc

|
A bright, glad, golden day was drawing
to golden close. The sun, still glorious
in his brightness, was sinking fast to his
brilliant couch, the low line Of the horizon:
and far up toward the zenith, the broad
sky-6eld was dccked in gorgeous tints of
wondrous brightness Deep-dycd carmine
clouds, fecked with purple bars, and bright
orange, and saffron, and ale-yellow shades
were there, so as no earthly limner might
hope to copy. An Italian sunset! Who
that has not seen can 'nccve it d? No misty
haze, no leaden shade, wings Of the coming
night, beclouding and obscuring the far
of west, but pure, clear atmosphere, max
ing intensely deep and bright the refractrd
colorad rays, till the kingy orb is invisible.
The radiant beams entered tn. open win.
dow It high, large pleasant room, whose
furniture and fittings told at once its use
I Here q marble bust, there half. chalked
canvast; the wooden model On which dra-
perry was hung at pleasure; the few dingy
antiques on the walls; but above all, the
outlined studies scattered around, proclaim
many then: such as one sees everywhere
now in the Eternal City.
The simple rose colorcd curtain was
drawn aside from the window, and near the
cas- ment, before tall and heavy easel, sat
youthful form, sole occupant of the roo
A large panel rested upon the easel, and in
the half shadow that now began to pervadr
the room, the picture it bore seemed almost
complete. A sad and solemn group filled
up the foreground, and prominent there
were bowed and sorrowing women and ter
ror stricken men. 1t was the old and moy
ing story, the Via Dolorvsa,' anl well and
faithfully had the young painter thus far
handled it. But he sat idly before it then.
Although lately at work, his rod and pencil,
were in his hand, and he listlessly toved
with them, while the absorbed and dreamy
mood in which he seemed deeply sunk, was
tinged with thoughtful sadness
| A light step trod the stairs, light hand
pressed aside the door of the apartment.
and sweet young maiden stood beside
the lost artist, and her fingers softly parted
the curls on his forehead. Ere he wss con.
sc'ous, he was no longer alone.
Again, again, Gregorios thoughts are
wandering. Is it for dark eyed Sonora
Siesca! Is it for sweet Clara Franco h..
sighs? Is it for sweet Clara Frescoli he
,ighs ?
'Ah, yosepAa mia, art thou here? Thou
knewe>t we'll thou ght neither of the little
Frescoli nor Of pretty Clara and not cen
OF thee, Carssima. was thinking. but on
this pointing to his picture; 'and despite
my efforts, despair overcomes nv spirits
'l'y''ay! heyday! cried the maiden.
| who would d spair when their triumph
u M hop Il
me, my errand hither was but to tell thee
how, yssternisht, I overheard good Padre
Joachim" telling my uncle they must have
your picture for the new grand altar i'm tn.
church Of st. lsadore, were it priced at
| thousand broad pieces
But for thee, Josepha, had long ago
yielded to my weakness but for thee,
had not so long toiled on this work, at last
to fail. and yield to my defeat The artists
head drooped low, and something like NOR.
tiiication and shame sat upon him. Per.
haps 1t was more like a keen and sad re-
greet.
JoSepha's heart was touched Often be
fore. IN the progress Of his work, hal she
c"mbattcd a drSpondency like this; and
again aud again had sh. succeed ID in in
spring him with fresh energy to prosecute
to completion the painting She felt assured
must establish his reputation, and place
him high in the Of artists. Once more
she e>saycd to revive his courage and am
bition.
Say not 50, Gregorio Canst thou not
see the work is very hea,ltitulY II Nv ,ich
and soft the coloring; how tender and
graceful the lovely figures to the right
Look now at the. blessed Virgin. See her
heavenly form and features, SO pure and
holy, and yet so angushcd her divine coun-
tenance, in agony at the suffering of her
immaculate Son.
Thou saycst the truth, Bella mia said |
Grcgorio, raising slightly his bent head,
the Virgin is, indeed, most lovely; bui
knoweSt thou, sweet one, tits because thou
vert my model. 'Tis the grace of thine
own dear form, the purity Of thine own an |
gel face that's Inirrored there Withou,
thee the work were but daub.'
While Joscpha noticed not in words her
lovers praise, with quick tact she parried |
it,
w no then sat for that fierce priest who. |
with bitter jeers, taunts the Holy One -
Who is he in mockery bends his scornful
knee, AZ to king? Who that bloate.i
Pharsee, in holy horror holding back his
flowing robes, lest they be defiled by the
holy Suffercf's touch p
Alas for those had no lack of types.
In every age and every cline, passion and
rage wear the same lineaments Re,norse.
less hate and fierce cruelty are the same
now as wren the Just One bore their direct
weight. But when would picture the Di.
vine lncarna:e, 'tls then feel my poverty
and helplessness. When would embody
my ideal Of Him, our Lord, my heart sinks
down, and my hand drops nerveless from
the canvas. Who may dare hope to equal
the ineifablc sweetness OF the wondrous Ra.
phael? Who excel the serene glory Of the
great Angelo, or the matchless pathos and
harmony of my own kinsman, Antonio de
Correggo! And yet not only this, but !.
but and his voice sank lower, mn art
aN too poor. Not only in His !owliness
ard suffering; not alone as the mocked and
villiticd, would exhibit Him, the Master,
but as arisen and triumphant; as the glo.
rious Lord of all, conquering Death and
HELL and leading Captivity captive. What
pencil shall depict such combination p
What hand shall paint the VIZ Dstorosa
merging in the full beams If the resurrec-
ton morn, crowned with the ascension
glory!'
lie was silent For awhile he sat, and
dwelt upon the sublime scenes whose inn
agery was so vividly before his mind
The maiden too, was silent, and she
strove to conceive Of such double picture,
as it were. In a low voice, almost as solil
oqny, again Gregorio spoke: l.
'J"sePha. listen. Last night I dreamed.
was at my easel; and while there Iwork-
ed, faint and low at first, as Of far of tunes,
there came sweetly on my ear the music Of
an unseen choir. The song thrilled through