pointedly addressed to Mary Lyle, the other manuscript scores of parts, a meerschaum In spite, however, of my prosaic disposition, my handiness in joining, turning, and carpentering, proved useful in the third-floor front of Number Five, Hanbury Terrace; and, being of use to my aunt, found favor in her eyes. Moreover, she declared that though Johnny was a quare little fellow, and had not the least taste for the pôtry of life, yet he was kind-hearted, and one whose word she would trust her life to. Indeed, in spite of my incredulous questionings, Aunt Honoria had no truer admirer than my practical self., I verily believe that those evenings in her "aportments," as she loved to term the third-floor in Number Five, saved my better and more genial spirit from dying out in the atmosphere of cold-hearted routine into which I, a lonely little orphan, was plunged. Moreover, my aunt had a high and chivalrous notion of what a gentleman should be, and was anxious that every wearer of broadcloth, in whose veins a drop of her blood was supposed to flow, should uphold it. Although "mee late brother" was avowedly her beau-ideal of an Irish Gentleman, her own maxims were calculated to form a very different model. When the yellow-stocking period of my life had merged into the more serious epoch of clerkship in a solicitor's office, at so much, or rather so little, per week, Aunt Honoria continued to rule my destiny. At this time, and for a couple of years previously, she had acquired an inmate in Mary Lyle, my colistener to the thrilling traditions of the ancient M Murroughs. 66 My aunt was never communicative, and snapt up all attempts at cross-examination with silencing abruptness. But I found out that Mary Lyle's father (an ex-companion of the ever-deplored and gifted Cornelius, and Many and many's the scrape mee poor brother has been led into by that scamp "), after many years' oscillation-scrambling all-fours along the path of life, as Aunt Honoria expressed it had at length succumbed to repeated fits of delirium-tremens. His helpless daughter, whose career had hitherto been that of general servant to her father, was left undisputed possessor of an ancient violincello and two bows; the deceased having played on that instrument at any theatre which would engage his services. There were also several pipe, and a remarkably long file of pawnbroker's duplicates. In less than an hour after the musician's decease, my Aunt Honoria pounced upon the orphan, and swept her into Number Five. Some well-to-do relatives occasionally doled out a pittance towards her support. I well remember a day of delightful and absorbing occupation in dusting, scouring, glueing, and generally repairing an ottoman-bed which my aunt had drawn forth from the depths of a second-hand furniture warehouse in Tottenham Court Road for the use of her protégée, and had been a week bargaining about. This purchase completed the solemn act of adoption. How my Aunt. Honoria managed to dress that bewitching little figure with the neat simplicity which was never surprised out of order, and to secure her the basis of a sound education, are secrets known only to the Rewarder of such secrets; and accountable for, only by the rare combination of activity, perseverance, and all-enduring hope which were fused together by the genial warmth of my aunt's self-denying charity. The evenings when Messrs. Pluckett and Maule's office closed early, soon grew to be delightful hours to me. Our day's work over-for Mary's services were now valued and remunerated at the school at which she had been taught we listened to the kettle humming on the reddest and tiniest fire imaginable. While my aunt set out the teathings-a task she never omitted-and I cut bread and butter, what eager discussions arose on the novels we admired and the heroes we adored! Later on a Monday evening, the "gurl" would make her appearance with a newspaper (marked here and there with concentric rings darkly indicative of porter, and held carefully, a fold of her apron intervening between it and her fingers) to deliver the same to my aunt with "Mr. Corrigan's," or sometimes "the Parlour's," compliments, and hopes Miss M'Murrough is quite well. draw the candle closer, hold, up the news- "Then, faith, ma'am," said Mr. C., who paper in dangerous proximity to the flame, and plunge into the contents; every now and then murmuring loud comments, sometimes complimentary, but more frequently the reverse, on men and things; occasionally reading out remarkably uninteresting passages, which used to clash drolly enough with our young sentimentalities whispered under cover of the newspaper. was remarkable for the ease of his manners, "you should give the honorable mimber a reminder now, and make him get this young gentleman a place under government; for he is all and all with the Marquis of Clanjamfrey." "It would be shorter to spake to the mar quis meeself," replied my Aunt Honoria, with dignity. "He is only a fourth cousin once removed on mee mother's side." I well remember the fatal evening on which-grown by habit secure in my aunt's At this piece of information Mr. Corrigan absorption-I ventured some more than twisted his mouth for one half second into usually demonstrative expression of feelings, the expression of a whistle; and then opened which not even the unromantic influence of it to observe, that, for his part, though he yellow stockings and the refrigerating routine despised the adventitious glare of rank, he of a lawyer's office had prevented from grow- would not leave such a cousin in ignorance ing up in my heart towards my pretty play-of the lad's existence, and of his willingness fellow. Never shall I forget the petrifying to serve his country. To which my aunt effect of my aunt's keen black eyes, piercing through me over the top of the paper. A startling silence and stillness fell down at once upon us, broken only by the loud and awful Hem! with which my aunt cleared her throat for action. rejoined sharply, that it was easy to despise what we did not possess; and, as to making Lord Clanjamfrey of use, there had been a feud between the families, and she did not know if she would condescend to ask a favor of him. I confess that my faith in Aunt Honoria's influence with cabinet ministers and members of parliament was far from strong; and the'. only effect her discourse produced on my mind was to raise dim, hopeless desires, that some one or other would, some day, get me & government clerkship with a rising-salary paid quarterly. What terrific address might have followed, who can tell? had not a tap at the door at the imminent moment announced the never more welcome Corrigan. My aunt was more than commonly upright and stately on that occasion, and alluded frequently to "mee late brother's" intimacy with many political characters. On Mr. C.'s remarking that the eloquent mimber for Ballykillruddery wás, he feared, playing a double game with his party-his name having been missed from I was naturally more prudent in my attentwo divisions, and he known to have got tions to Mary Lyle; who became all the more a cousin into the post-office, and his nurse's pensive and sad, in spite of the sharp, short, step-daughter's nephew into the police-Miss burning little assurance of affection I always M'Murrough observed: "What was to be managed to snatch on the stairs, when she expected from the son of a small Ballykill-lighted me down. After having been transfixed on that fatal Monday evening by my aunt's keen optics, ruddery attorney? It was mee father first At last, dear old Aunt Honoria could hold made a man of him," she continued. "Mee out no longer; and, one Sunday evening, father was always for encouraging cleverness; there was an unprecedented tremulousness and I well remimber Peter Flyn-mee father's and hesitation in her manner. She looked butler, Mr. Corrigan-saying he thought the at us, too, now and then, in a tender, earnest sight would never come back to his eyes the way, that seemed to be bringing tears into first time he saw little Micke Brady sitting her eyes. Presently, with unsteady yoice, down to dinner with The Master. Times are she laid her hand upon my arm, and said, a good deal changed since that, sir, but I have "It looks a foolish business enough, mee often heard mee late brother mention that poor children, but I can't say ye no! And. Micke Brady was not a bad sort of fellow, and perhaps your love for each other, and hoping often gave him orders to get people into to be together, will help you on; for, it's places I don't understand rightly where wearying to work hard without any hope but I know he did not quite forget what he beyond getting the bare food and raiment. owed our family." "It was a true word of Corrigan's, that I ought to make use of mee relations; an old stock like ours is sure to have some influence," exclaimed my aunt. "And you will be free from five every evening, and have a fortnight's holiday to go anywhere you like every year," whispered Mary. But now think well, mee dears, and consider whether you have the stuff in you that can wait patiently and faithfully for long years, and whether you love each other. too much to do anything rash-ay! a long engagement is a terrible trial, but where's the use of mere talking ?—it's little a pair like you will mind advice now, so ye must run the chances. Our fathers and mothers did before, only. " Eighty pounds a-year to begin on, mee God guide ye through them, mee darlin'," precious boy," continued my aunt rapturously, she concluded, kissing Mary heartily; and," and a certain rise-if you behave wellgiving her eyes a furtive rub, rushed into a (and there is no fear of ye), may-be to the furious attack upon the gurl for not having head clerkship and four huudred a-year, and brought up the kettle, and "it going on for all through y'r poor Aunt Honoria." siven o'clock." From this period I became, by slow degrees, dimly conscious that a certain mystery pervaded my aunt's manner, and even her movements. More than once, on Mary's observing that she ought to take another cup of tea, because she had come in so very late and seemed to have been so very far that day, my aunt snapt her up hastily, declaring that she had only been round the corner to rebuke the butterman, or to exhort the laundress. Twice also did I, in the course of my professional duties, run against her in the neighborhood of the Treasury, and once found myself face to face with her black reticule and baggy umbrella at the entrance to the House of Commons; but, a short and confused account of business connected with "mee late brother," and a recommendation not to indulge useless curiosity, silenced me. One August evening, more than a year after the above-mentioned encounters, I mounted the stairs at Number Five, Hanbury Terrace, with a heavy heart. Messrs. Pluckett and Maule had that morning refused my modest request for an increase of salary after five years' service, and had insinuated a doubt as to whether they would require my services much longer. After some urgent entreaties and skilful cross-examination, I extricated the true state of the case. The letter contained an appointment for me in her Majesty's Hank and Wax office, with all the advantages incoherently set forth by my aunt and Mary. For this, Miss Honoria M'Murrough had besieged the eloquent member for Ballykillruddery, her cousin the marquis, and every parliamentary acquaintance of "mee poor brother," with a pertinacity which she confessed that evening, over a raking pot of tea, had but little food for hope at the outset. "But, mee dear, nothing venture nothing have;' so I went on and on, through rain and storm, and waiting-rooms and impudent flunkies, till,. what with old letters to mee poor brother: about his newspaper, and what with being: tired of the sight of me, and little Micke Brady acting like a rale friend at last, I gọt. the appointment, and your fortune's made."' What a joyous confused tea-drinking! What castles in the air! What overleaping all intermediate steps! What arranging of furniture in our future domicile, and settling, how my aunt should keep house when we went on our summer tours. In another year I was able to take my pretty Mary to a cosy little home of our own; where, before long, my aunt found her presence so really useful as well as welcome, that she yielded to our entreaties to tear her self away from Number Five, Hanbury Terrace, and to take up her abode for the rest of her active life with us. When I opened the door, my aunt, bolt upright, was reading a letter, and Mary, her bright hair a little disordered, was clinging round her in tears. No sooner did they perceive me than they both made a rush to embrace me. My amazement was not soon diminished; for, during several minutes, I And this was-and is-the end of Number could distinguish nothing comprehensible in Five, Hanbury Terrace, aforesaid. their exclamations. DOCXIV. LIVING AGE. VOL. XX. 18 From The Boston Courier. but few acquaintances beyond the circle of art: his mannners were reserved and unIt is now a little more than eighteen years courtly: his commissions were few and small, since we first heard the name of Thomas and there were doubtless many moments Crawford. Mr. Sumner, in a letter dated when the burden of expectation rested heavfrom the neighborhood of Rome, July 26, ily upon him, and his ardent spirit, conscious 1839, spoke of him in language which we of unoccupied power, chafed under the disciventure to quote, and which will now be read pline of inaction. But his was one of those with melancholy interest on account of its vigorous natures that are never paralyzed or prophetic spirit. "In my last letter dated weakened by the want of present success or from Rome I mentioned that there was an immediate recognition. Come what might, American sculptor there, who needed and he could not and would not be idle. His deserved more patronage than he has. I hands must find something to do; and he wish now to call your particular attention to would do it with all his might. Many years his case, and through you to interest for him afterwards, when we were standing with him such of my friends as you may choose to before the statue of Demosthenes in the mention it to. He is Mr. Thomas Crawford Vatican, he remarked in a quiet way that he of New York; he commenced life humbly; had once made a marble copy of this work, learned something of sculpture in the study for the sum of four hundred dollars, if we of Frazee, where, among other things, he remember right: at any rate it was an inworked upon the heads of Judge Prescott credibly small sum, such as could hardly and Judge Story; here he saved some little have secured to him, during the prosecution money and gained a love for his art; and on of the work, the wages of a day laborer. this capital (of which his devotion to his With a man of such genius, and such resoprofession was the larger part) he came lution, success was simply a question of time. abroad to study here the great remains of ancient sculpture. Here he studied diliently, and formed a pure, classical, and decided, taste, loving and feeling the antique and Thorwaldsen. The latter, I have occasion to know, has shown him much kind consideration, which of itself is no mean praise among the thousand young artists of Rome, and from the greatest sculptor of modern times. The three principal English sculptors here, whose names are well known in their own country, though they may not have reached you, speak of Crawford as a remarkable artist. And I will add, that I think he gives promise of doing more than they have done. I have seen his bas-reliefs, the heads he has done, and some of his most important studies. They all show the right direction: they are simple, chaste, firm, and expressive." Then follows a description and high praise of the Orpheus which he was then engaged in modelling. Crawford, at the date of the letter from which the above extract is taken, was twentysix years old, having been born in New York in 1813, and he has been for four years a resident of Rome. His life had been up to that time, and was indeed for some years afterwards, one of uncomplaining privation, patient toil, and gallant endurance, He had When Mr. Sumner returned home in 1840, he procured by subscription among his friends the means of sending to Crawford an order for a marble copy of the statue of Orpheus for the Boston Athenæum. This work arrived in the course of the next year, and the admiration it awakened fully justified Mr. Sumner's report of its merits, and at once gave the sculptor a high and sure place in art. The reception of the statue in Boston was an era in his life, such as so frequently occurs in the career of the artist; marking the moment in which the star of his genius begins to rise above the horizon, and to attract the general eye. Commissions now began to come to him in moderate measure. The Cupid, owned by Mr. Jonathan Phillips, the group of Mercury and Pandora, in the possession of Mr. Parker, and the head of Medora, of which Mr. J. J. Dixwell and Prof. Parsons have copies, belong to this period of his life. In 1844 he came to this country, and in the course of the same year was married to Miss Louisa Ward, second daughter of the late Samuel Ward, of New York, a union which secured to him the most entire and exquisite happiness, and acted in the most favorable manner alike upon the development of his genius and the ripening of his 21 character. To a reserved and concentrated cans resident in Rome, and all who had any nature like his, which found little satisfaction claims were received at his house with that in the light pleasures of society, and still cordial and sincere hospitality which brought less in the riot and excess of that wild life in back to the wanderer's heart the sweet senwhich so many Artists waste their time and sations of home. How distinctly do these impair their powers, the soothing and tran- pictures of the past rise up before the mind's quilizing influences of domestic life were of eye! the pleasant room, lighted up with the great importance: and they were given to genial wood fire; the warm grasp of the him in as large measure as the lot of human-outstretched hand; the beaming smile, that ity will permit. From this time forward his whole being turned upon two poles; his art and his home. He worked with impassioned dilligence in his studio, and the refreshment which exhausted nature demanded was drawn from the purest and sweetest sources that earth can furnish. was a heart-smile as well as a lip-smile; the sweet, stammering Italian of the little girl, not forgetting the friendly wag of Carlo's tail-a good dog-but who would hunt the sheep on the Campagna, and always came back from our walks with one end of his master's hankerchief tied to his collar, and a very penitent expression in his pendulous From the date of his marriage his life flowed on in an unbroken current of occupa-ears. tion and peace: his genius every day draw- Crawford was at that period busily engaged ing the materials of growth from the calm in his profession, but not so absorbed by it air of happiness. His devotion to his art, that he could not give to us many precious which had carried him so heroically through and profitable hours of companionship. his long years of waiting and struggle, kept the firm temper of his spirit from yielding, in the least degree, to the blandishments of comparative ease. Success, recognition, the assurance of work, acted upon Crawford's nature like dew and sunshine upon the flower. With him to be occupied was happiness to be idle was torture. We never 'knew a man to whom might be more truly applied that fine illustration of Luther's, which compares the human heart to a millstone which, when wheat is put under it, grinds the wheat, but when there is no wheat there grinds and tears itself. He was never happier, never in higher spirits, than when he had as much to do as could be accomplished only by the most resolute and uninterrupted industry. What to most men would have been a burden was to him only spur. : With him we rambled in long walks over the Campagna, visited the galleries of the Vatican and the Capitol, and explored all the highways and bye-ways of Rome; listening to his instructive conversation on árt, and to those fresh and interesting revelations of Italian life and manners which his long residence in the land, and his familiar acquaintance with its people so well qualified him to make. Occasionally, too, though rarely, he would let drop an incidental reminiscence or two of his own early struggles and privations; but in the most simple and natural way, as one not disposed to magnify or parade his claims to sympathy on that behalf. Should we ever visit Rome again, there would hang over its temples and fragments a more pensive shade than that cast a by those solemn teachings of Time which address all experiences alike: The writer of this notice spent the greater part of the winter of 1847-48, and a portion of the spring of 1848, in Rome; and not a day passed without seeing more or less of Crawford. He was then living in the Corso, in a suite of rooms not long afterwards exchanged for the second floor of the Villa Negroni. His studio was in the Piazza Barberini. Two young children were already blooming round his hearth. How busily, how happily, his days went by! In the winter season there are always many Ameri "But, O, for the touch of a vanished hand And the sound of a voice that is still!" We live by memory and hope: in the sharp sense of present bereavement, in the consciousness that a light has been taken away from the path of life, let us not forget what we have had. Those vanished hours are forever locked in the heart, and cannot be taken from it till it has ceased to beat. If "a thing of beauty be a joy forever;" still more so is the memory of the precious moments passed in full communion and weep |