National Republican., 1883-03-26


distorted corpse Of the ill-fated poet, He had
been half pagan and always classical in his
habits and therefore funereal pyre-a fur
nace--sending its hot flames up toward the
blue and tranquil heaven-was prepared upon
which all that was mortal was placed. What
place Of solemn desolation 1t must have been
even to the handsome cynicl And no won
der he snatched the unconsumed heart from
tho fierce elements and bore it reverently
away to finally be placed in Rome. Around
stood bewildered peasants, and fine ladies
shivered in their carriages, for the rumor had
gone abroad Of the unusual proceeding. And
to think nothing is left-not even the specta-
tors--but this little mound and rude cross
that the encroaching sand is fast covering up, |
while the restless sea throws up its white |
foam. seeming to await another victim. In |
an old palace is lonely home circle, each |
and every member distinguished for some |
talent. It is the abode of Eugene Ben
son, poet and painter. His studio IS
in the Story building, where the wonderful |
creations of his brain have grown into form
under the potent touches of his brush the
subjects are mostly of the renaissance, and are |
painted with such fidelity that museums, old
palaces, and every queer nook and crany
have becm searched for material in costume
and furniture to make these pictures real In set
ting. lie has three remarkable pictures, nearly
finished, for the coming Grosvenor gallery in
the London exhibition. One, prince in pic
turesuue costume, seated in shadow, pours his
heart out in the wild strains of violin; sud
denly, like the spirit of the fountain beside
which il stands, appears the figure OF beau
tiful woman, who comes to his lonely heart
like an inspiration. Every detail is in per-
fection, even the smallest flowers that nestle
in the grass, and behind the broad and open
country stretches away to be lost in the last
pink flush of setting sun. Another, young
girl kneeling before an antique pr'c-d'cb. old
tapestry behind her, such a face as you might
look in valentine window and see and be
haunted by it, remembering the indehnable
sorrow that lurked in the upturned eyes and
seemed to tremble about the perfect mouth an
appeal to her God for peace and tranquility
that would never come again OF MIR. Bensons
household is Miss Fletcher, his stepdaughter,
now widely known as the brilliant young
authoress of Kisemet, that modern romance of
old Egypt. She is at present at work upon
story which absorbs her completely her
time, her every thought. Many mornings
she is at work before the sun has risen. 1t
has the added fascination of having some part
of the plot of the story laid in Leghorn in
the vicinity of which she has been patiently
making studies. She Is u wonderful linguist,
and has a certain advantage in this accom-
plishment for IL enables her to take an inn
preston of an author before he has been sifted
and shaken by doubtful translation.
When she emerges from her little den, from
which all the world is barred, she is merry
throwing witty sayings right and left and
laughing for the mere pleasure of it; light
haired, quick, and active young girl with fear
lessly honest blue eyes that can look sham out
of countenance; not q bit ofa pedant, and much
more willing to talk about her horseback
riding-she is fine equestrienne-thana about
books, especially her own.
1t is no wonder some Of the best houses of
London are thrown open to her, and she is
considered royal guest at dinner party.
If she is not foolish enough to stop in the
middle of her career and marry, she has
great future before her. Never very far
away is the mother.
Mrs Benton, who is extremely clever, q
brilliant writer too, but who never thinks of
| herself only what she can do to promote the
happiness of those whom she loves Truly
contented household that all the clouds have
| passed over long ago.
Another artist, Francisco Ricci, almost
American from having surrendered his liberty
to charming New York wife, follows
closely antique costumes and creations in his
pictures; and from such severe labor, Tor to be
conscientious is to work hard with both
brain and brush, he amuses himself by
painting great mirrors, with cupids and gar
lands and flowers, that, looking in them, you
might think some fairy scene had been sud-
denly conjured. Already they adorn palatial
mansions and are far more artistic than those
the well read tourist stands spelbound. Poor
Harry Bispham, the merriest of all the ar
fists, dead this nearly three months and lying
in the English cemetery. His studio is still
kept open, and always has many visitors. He
painted specially animals, not caring to do
anything else his love for them making him
| always q close observer. His talent was so
great that he could go home, sketch any he
had seen with perfect exactitude. All the
pathetic parts of their life he knew well, and
| in the delirium that came before death he
was always drawing them, until the weak
fingers dropped the pencil and the active
brain was forever stillcd. He was, without
doubt, the best animal painter America
has produced and there are still a
few of his best works for SALE They
should be bought and put in our
galleries. One of his favorite subjects was
the Roman bull that Hans Christian Anderson
has made picturesque figure in one of his
famous stories. The bull roams wild on the
caInpagna, and il is best to keep Mt proper
and safe distance Bispham was fond ofgoing
out on these lenely plains and studying from
nature, and one day he found a magnificent
specimen-a perfect emperor so to speak
who allowed the artist to come within hailng
distance, place his easel and get well to work.
In the enthusiasm of the moment and the
success of the rapidly growing portrait Bisp-
ham forgot the nature of the beast,
and suddenly got reminder from a
cruel pair of horns. Running for dear
life, he lodged behind old tombs,
slipped into forgotten sluices 1t was no use,
the bull never gave up the chase. At length,
in the distance he saw a wall, and he made up
his mind TO fly on the wings of the wind and
get over it. SO did the bull. 1t was race
for life and the artist just landed OH the other
side, and that was all. The animal saw the
game was up, and with II great below he
turned on n mad gallop, and reaching tho
easel at last he surveyed it moment, then
paved it down, tramping in wild fury picture,
paints -everything-int the long campagna
grass.
Poor Harry used to tell this in his inimita-
BILE way, and always added: at was hard to
tell which was the maddest, the bull or my
self; but look at that canvas there--wel,
that's his portrait. l wasn't likely to forget
such bull. | got him, He didn't get me-"
They SAY.
The Soldiers Home Commissioners.
The first meeting under the new law of the
| board of commissioners of the soldiers home
was held Saturday at the soldiers home The
| board consists of Gen. Sherman, president of
the board Adjt. Gen. Drum, Quartermaster
| General ingalls,, Commissary General
| McFeely, Inspector General SaCkett, Surg
Gen. Crane, Judge Advocate General SWAIN
and Col Sturgis, governor of the home The
law requires the commissioners TO submit TO
| to,.x of tuar a In, ri.