The Stark County Democrat. [volume] (Canton, Ohio) 1833-1912, 1874-10-15


"Eyviva the liberty Of the art is il
not'beauhful, father2'
And the old man embraced his daugh-
ter with fearful emotion.
There were only two of all those
present who did not seen to share the
spirit that animated the joyous assemb-
lage. The face of Signor Beppo NAL
vezzi wore a dark, hostile expression,
while Marco Sessi sat absorbed in appar-
emily melancholy reflections.
So beautiful as to-day, with her flushed
checks that mirrored her inward Joy,
Elisabetta had never appeared 10 them,
and the thought of the hopelessness of
his love had never before driven him 80
near TO the verge Of despair, AT each
word that Malvezzi, prompted by his
malice, whispered in his ear, he bit his
lip harder, as though by physical pain he
would lessen his mental suffering.
"We all, " said the painter Matteo Bor-
boni, in concluding little speech pre-
paratory to a toast" we all call our
selves, with pride, the pupils and follow
ers of the immortal Guido; the one pos
sesses this, the other that quality of the
great master, but none of us, save Elisa
BETA, possesses them all; she alone is his
worthy successor-she is our mistress,
and the greatest of us all. To her, COM
rades, let us empty our cups"
And all their cups were instantly
raised arms length, except Malvezzi's.
"Holdw'he cried, allow me word. 1t
will not be set down to jealousy, for am
not painter, if | express doubt with
regard TO the truth of Borbonis asser-
tion. In Signorina Elisabetta's original
pictures we find much that reminds us
of Guido Reni-that / do not deny; but
have you essayed a contest with the ma
estro himself? | mean, have you ever
copied one of his pictures with her and
seen whether she is capable of produc-
ing it successfully and whether the PEN
cilof some one of you would not, per
haps, reproduce him with equal and
possibly with greater success?" .,
AT first there was a general murmur,
and for moment it seemed doubtful
whether there would be any one to sec
ond the proposition; then one or two
voices made themselves heard.
"Quite right quite right that would
be a test" said one, and the faces of the
enyious few wore malicious smile.
''Let us make the trial" A." said another,
'let us all enter the lists"
And now arose Giovanni Sirani, and
spoke with almost youthful fire.
"Make the trial, all of you," d B cried,
''in order that you may all learn to bow
to Elisabetta's genius, whose mastery
you question only because she is wo-
man. Follow the suggestion Of Signor
Malvezzi, who is filed with anger and
hatred because my child preferred her
art to being Signora Malyezzi Make
the trial, and / swear to you that l will
give her hand to him who surpasses
her"
For moment all the blood appeared
TO leave Elisabetta's cheeks, and her
large eyes filled with tears; but, as she
raised them to heaven, and her hand in
voluntarily grasped the cross upon her
breast, she seemed suddenly to be COM
forted. The cross was her talisman, the
gift of her dying master, and she felt
that his spirit hovered over her. With
the pride and confidence of queen, she
arose, and, careless of all the eyes turned
toward her, she said in firm tone:
$50 be III and | promise to yield my
father willing obedience. Let the por-
trait of Beatrice Cenci, which is ac-
counted one of our masters best works
and very difficult to reproduce, serve to
test our ability to copy him. To him
who is adjudged more successful than l,
l promise my hand if he sees fit to de-
mand it."
Bravo, Signorina-well said" cried
Malvezzi, triumphantly; "but now, let
Ills see who of your colleagues will COM
pete for the charming prize"
For moment there was no reply
all was silent: then a single voice cried
out boldly:
81 willw 1t was Marco Sessi's. 81
will, and here's my guage" and he threw
his glove upon the table and left the
hall.
81 shall be avenged, result as it will, "
whispered Melvezzi to friend. mo
woman shall reject me with impunity.
/ know very well that all Bologna laughs
at my expense, and that Bianchini is
amusing his friends with a satirical
poem of which my courtships are the
theme"
"Luigi Picinardi," said Elisabetta to
the friend on whose arm she leaned on
her way hOme-she was well nigh ex-
hausted after the excitement of the
evening-"you said of the wreath OF
white roses they placed upon my head
that they ill became the living. Who
knows what in this case they may for
bodel If l lose the liberty | so much
prize, who knows how soon you may
have to write my epitaph?"
More than a year passed after the ban
quet at the Palazzo TassOni, before the
day came which was to decide who
was to be victor in the strange contest.
Elisabetta's copy had long been finish
ed Marco Sessi's, however, had pro
gressed very slowly. At first they work
ed together in the Sirani studio, where
they could both use the original portrait
at the same time, while Signor Gioyanna
sat in his arm chair, nursed his gout
and watched the progress of the con.
testants. Elisabetta drew and painted
with her usual ease and freedom; she
seemed to have entirely forgotten what
depended upon the correctness of hel
lines and the truthfulness of her cOlors
Not so with Marco; he would be hardly
seated before his easel, with the fixed
determination to work steadily, wher
his eyes would wander from Guido Re
mis- work to the graceful figure of Elisa
beta; it was not Beatrice's lovely fea
lures that appeale on the canvass, bu
ever and again, those of Elisabettai
Juno head. After spending hours thus
and making no progress, Marco woulC
throw aside his palette and brushes
and seek consolation in stroll beyond
the limits of the toen.
Marco" said signor Siranij one day
you are not doing yourself justicer-yol
would do better in your own studio. lie
Elisabetta finish her copy, and then yor
take the original home, where you cal
work undisturbed."
Marco acceded that it would, perhaps
| he hattpr and pama M more. but in