MODERN ART.

‘Lucrezia Borgia at the Tomb of Don Giovanni!  You see,’ said the artist, ’I have chosen a good name for my painting, ... and it’s a great point gained.  Forty or fifty years ago, some of those fluffy old painters would have had Venus worshiping at the shrine of Bacchus.’

’Whereas, you think it would be more appropriate for her to worship Giove?’ ... asked Capar.

’No sir!...  I run dead against classic art:  it’s a drug.  I tried my hand at it when I first came to Rome.  Will you believe me, I never sold a picture.  Why that very painting’—­pointing to the Borgia—­’is on a canvas on which I commenced The Subjugation of Adonis.’

‘H’m!  You find the class of Middle Age subjects most salable then?’

’I should think I did.  Something with brilliant colors, stained glass windows, armor, and all that, sells well.  The only trouble is, ultramarine costs dear, although Dovizzelli’s is good and goes a great ways.  I sold a picture to an Ohio man last week for two hundred dollars, and it is a positive fact there was twenty scudi (dollars) worth of blue in it.  But the infernal Italians spoil trade here.  Why, that fellow who paints Guide’s Speranzas up there at San Pietro in Vineulo is as smart as a Yankee.  He has found out that Americans from Rhode Island take to the Speranza, because Hope is the motto of their State, and he turns out copies hand over fist.  He has a stencil plate of the face, and three or four fellows to paint for him; one does the features of the face, another the hand, and another rushes in the background.  Why, sir, those paintings can be sold for five scudi, and money made on them at that.  But then what are they?  Wretched daubs not worth house-room.  Have you any thoughts of purchasing paintings?’

Caper smiled gently....  ’I had not when I first came to Rome, but how long I may continue to think so is doubtful.  The temptations’ (glancing at the Borgia) ‘are very great.’ ...

‘Rome,’ ... interrupted the artist, ... ‘is the cradle of art.’

A ROOM HUNT.

Caper, on his first arrival in Home, went to the Hotel Europe, in the Piazza di Spagna.  There for two weeks he lived like a milordo.  He formed many acquaintances among the resident colony of American artists, and was received by them with much kindness.  Some of the mercenary ones of their number, having formed the opinion that he came there to buy paintings, ignorant of his profession, were excessively polite;—­but their offers of services were declined.  When Caper finally moved to private lodgings in Babuino Street and opened a studio, hope for a season bade these salesmen all farewell; they groaned, and owned that they had tried but could not sell.