Part 6 (1/2)
[Sidenote: CHRIST ON THE CROSS.]
I answered that they would rather help the subject, and it might be called The Virgin, Hope.
”_Oh! c'est tres-bien_,” he replied.
There remained the crown of roses on her head, but in regard to this everything was easy. Roses are the symbol of joy, and Hope in the purity of its aspirations is crowned with joy. Truly that day I was a more eloquent orator than artist.
The Russian, quite content (and I more than he), counted me out the price of the statuette in golden napoleons, and before it was boxed up, had inscribed on the base of the Filomena these words--_La Vera Speranza_.
After this work, Magi advised me to begin to work in marble. This cost me little trouble, practised as I was in carving wood, which, though it is a softer material, is more ungrateful and irresponsive. After a few weeks' practice, I was able to execute some works, and to a.s.sure myself that henceforward, whenever I wished, I could go from one material to the other. Remember, however, that I then did not even dream of becoming an artist. I only hoped to succeed as a workman in marble, as I then was in wood. The idea of being an artist came to me afterwards, slowly and by degrees--the appet.i.te growing, as the saying is, by eating; or I should rather say, I was driven and drawn to it, out of pique and self-a.s.sertion (_punto d'onore_). But let us proceed regularly.
About this time Signor Sani received an order from certain nuns--I do not now remember whom--to make a Christ upon the cross, which was to be of small size and executed in boxwood. Naturally Sani thought of me, and gave it to me to execute. I set to work upon it with such love and such a desire to do well, that I neglected nothing. After making studies of parts from life, and pilfering here and there, I succeeded in making an _ensemble_, movement, character, and expression appropriate to the subject, and this I executed with patience and intelligence. But the excellence of the work was superior to the importance of the commission.
Let me explain myself. The time it cost me, and consequently the price I was paid by my princ.i.p.al for my weeks of labour, far exceeded that which had been agreed upon by the persons giving the commission. Sani, a little grudgingly, but still feeling that it did honour to his shop, showed himself half pleased and half annoyed; and when other persons afterwards came to urge forward the work on which he was engaged for them, and praised this Christ of mine, Sani took all the praise to himself as if it belonged to him. Nor was he to blame for this. The Christ, however, on account of the difference of price, remained in his shop shut up in his chest. But as it had been somewhat noised about, many came expressly to see it. Among these was the Cavaliere Professore Giuseppe Martelli, who lately died, and who having seen it, told Sani that he hoped to induce the Cavaliere Priore Emanuel Fenzi to buy it. He was then putting in order the princ.i.p.al suite of rooms in the palace of the Via San Gallo for the wedding of the Cavaliere Fenzi's eldest son, Orazio, with the n.o.ble Lady Emilia de' Conte della Gherardesca, and he hoped to place this Christ at the head of the bed of this young couple.
And this in fact happened. The Christ was seen and bought, and I believe that it is still in that house. I saw it there myself when poor Orazio, who honoured me with his friends.h.i.+p, was alive.
[Sidenote: THE ”CHRIST” SOLD.]
I shall again refer to this Christ; but for the present, let us go on. I had a great desire to give up once for all this working in wood--not because I thought that material less worthy than marble, for the excellence of a work depends upon the skill and knowledge of the artist, and not upon the material which he has used. Very worthless statues have been seen, and still may be seen, in beautiful marble, and, _vice versa_, beautiful statues in simple _terra cotta_ or wood.
[Sidenote: WORK AT MAGI'S.]
”You will be n.o.ble if you are virtuous,” answered D'Azeglio to his son, when the latter asked him, with the ingenuousness of a child, if their family was n.o.ble.
Let us then understand that the n.o.bility of any one is founded upon his deeds, and the excellence of a work depends upon the work itself, and not upon the material. We shall return to this consideration hereafter; now let us proceed. I say that I wished to give up working in wood, because it was my business at the shop to make all sorts of little things, such as candlesticks, cornices, masks, &c. Naturally it fell to me to make them; and not always--on the contrary, very rarely--it happened that I had a Christ, an angel, or anything of that kind to execute: and on this account I was irritable and irascible (except when I was at home) with everybody, and specially with myself.
At Magi's I had as much work as I wished. I had already finished for him two busts,--one of the Grand Duke in Roman drapery, according to the style then in vogue among the academic sculptors, who dressed in Roman or Greek costume the portrait of their own uncle or G.o.dfather; the other of an old woman, whom I did not know. Work enough I had; but naturally I wished to earn something by it, and this was soon spoken of. I understand very well that the master has a kind of right to all the profits of the first works of his pupil; but with me this went on so long, that at last he saw its impropriety; and he proposed to engage me to finish the group of Charity which he had made for the Chapel of the Poggio Imperiale, as a subst.i.tute for that wonderful work of Bartolini, which is still admired in the Palatine Gallery. But the proposition of Magi was in every way impossible to accept, as he only agreed to pay me when the work was completed--that is to say, I and my family were to go for at least a year without anything to eat.
[Sidenote: DEATH OF MY DAUGHTER--POEM.]
I tried here and there; but I could not make a satisfactory arrangement, and I had to resign myself to the making of candlesticks. I had now become a father. My wife had given me a little girl, whom I lost afterwards when she was seven years old; and as I have never made mention of my dear angel, let me embellish the meagreness of my prose with the charming verses of Giovanni Battista Niccolini, who then honoured me with his friends.h.i.+p, and which he wrote with his own hand under the portrait of my little child. They are as follows:--
Few were the evils that Life brought to thee, Dear little one, ere thou from us wast torn, Even as a rosebud plucked in early morn.
Tears thou hast left, and many a memory, To those who gave thee birth, But thou from Life's short dream on earth Hast waked the perfect bliss of heaven to see; And thou art safe in port, and in the tempest we.
Pochi a te della vita Furono i mali, o pargoletta, e mori Come rose ch'e colta ai primi albori.
Ognor memoria e pianto Al genitor sarai, benche per sempre Dal sogno della vita in ciel gia desta.
Tu stai nel porto e noi siamo in tempesta.
CHAPTER V.
A WARNING TO YOUNG ARTISTS--PROFESSOR CAMBI'S PROPOSITIONS--A FINANCIAL PROBLEM: TO INCREASE GAIN BY DIMINIs.h.i.+NG THE MEANS THAT PRODUCE IT--I LEAVE SANI'S SHOP TO HAVE MORE TIME AND LIBERTY TO STUDY--AN IMITATION IS NOT SO BAD, BUT A FALSIFICATION IS INDEED AN UGLY THING--THE MARCHESA POLDI AND A CASKET, SUPPOSED TO BE AN ANTIQUE--HOW A MASTER SHOULD BE--THE DEATH OF MY MOTHER, SEPTEMBER 1840--OPINION OF THE ACADEMY--THE ”TIPSY BACCHANTE”--A DIVIDED VOTE--THE ”CARIATIDI” OF THE ROSSINI THEATRE AT LEGHORN.
Let us consider for a moment the state of my mind at this time. I felt within me an unconquerable inclination for the study of sculpture; and even as a child, I gave vent to my feeling as well as I was able. As I increased in years, the more this desire was repressed and opposed, whether by my poverty or the aversion of my father, the more it developed into a settled pa.s.sion. But after the progress I had made in my studies gave me a right to hope, and my masters had encouraged me, and I had acquired some skill in working the marble, no work was given me to do. Nor was this all. I was humiliated at last, being told by a workman to whom I applied--who was the administrator of the studio of a foreign artist--that there was nothing for me to do there, because the work in that studio was so difficult as to be beyond my ability. I swallowed this bitter mouthful, but I did not despair. Not only did I not despair, but I determined, by study and force of will, to prove that I was right and they were wrong. Add to this that I was not alone; I had a wife and children. But no matter. Since the first prophecies that I never should be good for anything as a wood-carver had proved false, this also, which was both a humiliation and an insult, might prove to be untrue. My poor wife saw that my mind was greatly disturbed, and, with her sweetness, strove to calm me by representing to me that we were fairly well off and without troubles, and exhorted me to drive from my head a thought which was rendering my life bitter to me. These words, dictated by love, made me still more unhappy; but dissimulating and caressing her, I told her that she was right.
[Sidenote: RIVALs.h.i.+P AND CRITICISM.]
One day, in the studio of Magi, I and another young man were modelling together a man's _torso_ which had been cast from nature. A friend of Magi, a painter, as he pa.s.sed by us paused, and after looking at our two copies, said, turning to my rival and patting him gently on the shoulder, ”I am delighted: this is an artist!” Then turning to me with an expression of regret, he said, ”_A rivederla._” My good reader, do you think that made me despair? No, by the Lord! I tell you rather that these words were seared upon my brain as with a red-hot iron, and there they still remain--and they did me a great deal of good. The Professor who spoke them (yes, he was a Professor), three years afterwards embraced me in the Accademia delle Belle Arti before my ”Abel.” My rival? My rival is perfectly sound in health, and is fatter and more vigorous than I am, but he is not a sculptor. So, my dear young artist, courage! in the face of poverty, and opposition, and abuse, and contempt, and even (remember this) of blandishments and flatteries, which are more destructive than even abuse and contempt.