Part 15 (1/2)
Some one always arrived late, but Rossini would not see everybody. This evening, if I mistake not, came the Signora Varese, Signor de Luigi, and others whom I did not know; then two youths, who apparently were music-masters, and they, after saluting the Signora, turned to Rossini with these words: ”Have you heard, Signor Maestro, the criticism of Scudo on the new opera of Verdi, 'I Vespri Siciliani,' which has just been given in Paris?”
”No,” answered Rossini, rather seriously.
”A regular criticism, you know; you should read it. It is in the last number of the 'Revue des Deux Mondes.'” And then they began to repeat some of these opinions of Scudo's, with adulation, which, if courteous, was little praiseworthy. But Rossini interrupted them, saying--
”They make me laugh when they criticise Verdi in this way, and with such a pen! To write an able and true criticism of him, requires higher capacity and an abler pen. In my opinion, this would require two Italian composers of music who could write better than he does himself; but as these Italian musical composers who are superior to Verdi are yet to come, we must content ourselves with his music, applaud him when he does well,” and here he clapped his hands, ”and warn him in a fraternal way when we think he could have done better.” As he finished these words he seemed a little heated, and almost offended, as if he thought that these people had come to give him this news by way of flattering him, or in order to have the violent criticism of Scudo confirmed. The fact is, he must have already read the criticism itself, as I had seen the number of the 'Revue' on his table before dinner. The conversation then changed, and nothing more was said.
[Sidenote: VISIT OF THE EMPEROR OF RUSSIA.]
About this time the Emperor of Russia, who was pa.s.sing through Florence, honoured me with a visit. I should have pa.s.sed over in silence this fact; but as it was the occasion of a false impression, by which I appeared to be the most stupid and ignorant man in the world, it is better that I should narrate exactly what occurred. Signor Mariotti, the agent for the Russian Imperial household, who, the reader may remember, had procured for me the commission for the marble of Abel, sent me word that during the day the Emperor would come to see the Cain, which was already finished in marble. I waited for him all day; but towards evening, an hour before nightfall, I dressed myself to go away, not believing that any one would come at that hour. Just as I was going out I heard a disturbance, a noise of carriages and horses, and saw the Emperor stopping at my studio. It was nearly dark, so, with a stout heart, before he descended I went to the door of the carriage and said--
”Your Majesty, I am highly honoured by your visit to my studio, but I fear that your Majesty cannot satisfy your desire to see the Cain, as it is nearly nightfall, and I should like to show this work of mine in a more favourable light.”
The street was full of curious people; the studios of the artists my neighbours were all open, and they were in the doorway; the ministers of the Imperial house put their heads out of their carriage to see what was the reason the Emperor did not get out, and with whom he was talking.
The Emperor, with a benign countenance, answered--
”You are quite right; one cannot see well at this hour. I will return to-morrow after mid-day.”
I bowed, and the carriages drove on. This stopping of the carriage and its driving on again after a few words had pa.s.sed between his Majesty and myself, led some a.s.s to suppose that I had not been willing to receive the Emperor, and some malicious person repeated the little story; but not for long, as the next morning he returned with all his suite.
As soon as he descended, he said to me--
”_Vous parlez francais?_”
”_Tres mal, Majeste._”
”Well, I speak a little Italian; we will make a mixture.”
General Menzicoff, Count Orloff, and others whom I do not remember, accompanied the Emperor. As soon as he entered the studio he took off his hat, to the great astonishment of his suite, who all hastened to imitate him, and remained with his head uncovered all the time he was there. He was of colossal build, and perfectly proportioned. The Emperor Nicholas was then of mature years, but he looked as if he were in the flower of manhood. He talked and listened willingly, and tried to enter into the motives and conceptions of the artist.
Amongst others he saw a sketch of Adam and Eve that I had just made with the intention of representing the first family. He saw it, and it pleased him. He said it would go well with the Cain and Abel; and from these words, one might have taken for granted that he had ordered it.
But I have always rather held back and been little eager for commissions, so that I did not feel myself empowered to execute it.
Then, also, I had taken this subject for my simple satisfaction, and certainly with the intention of making it in the large, which I did not, however, carry into effect; for if I had done so, I should probably have offered it to him, as he had been so much pleased by the sketch. The Emperor was most affable with me, and showed a desire to know something about me besides my studies and works that he had before his eyes, so I satisfied his wishes. Nor is it to be wondered at that so important a person as he was should inquire into the particulars of simple home-life, for he was (so I afterwards heard) a good husband and father.
He accompanied the Empress his wife to Palermo, as her ill health made it necessary for her to be in that mild climate, perfumed with life-giving odours. He married his daughter Maria Nicolaiewna to the Prince of Leuchtenberg, who was a simple officer in the army; but as he became aware that the young people loved each other, he wished to procure their happiness. A good husband and a good father; pity it is that one cannot say a good sovereign! His persecutions and cruelty towards Poland, especially in regard to her religious liberty, and even her language, which is the princ.i.p.al inheritance of a nation, are not a small stain on that patriarchal figure.
[Sidenote: THE EMPEROR'S CHARACTER.]
If the young reader has the good habit of not skipping, he will remember perhaps the danger I ran of dying asphyxiated in my little studio near San Simone in company with the model, whilst I was making the sketch for the Abel. Now I must speak of another grave peril that I ran of certain death, had it not been that Divine Providence sent me help just in time.
It was the 12th of April 1849: for some days past a crowd of rough and violent Livornese had been going about our streets with jeering and menacing bearing; and insults, violence, and provocations of every kind had not been wanting. That day a squad of these brutal fellows, after having eaten and taken a good deal to drink, would not pay their reckoning; there were altercations and blows, to the damage of the poor man who kept the wine-shop; and as if that were not enough, there were other gross improprieties. This happened in the Camaldoli of San Lorenzo, at a place called La Cella, where the population was crowded and rude. The cup was overflowing, and at a cry of, ”Give it to them!
give it to them!” they fell upon these scoundrels; and although the latter were armed with swords (being of the Livornese national guard) and stilettoes, they were overwhelmed by the rush of the populace, disarmed, and killed.
[Sidenote: RIOT IN FLORENCE.]
This was like a spark, and spread like lightning throughout Florence.
There was a great tumult and angry cries for men from Leghorn.
Everything served as a weapon; every workman ran out with the implements of his trade, and even dishevelled ragged women ran about like so many furies with cudgels, shovels, and tongs, screaming, ”Kill them! kill them!” There were many victims. The soldiers who were in the Belvedere fortress, as soon as they heard the reports of the guns and the cause thereof, came down from there like wild beasts, such was their hatred against these people, from whom they had received every kind of insult, even to finding two of their companions nailed to the boards of their barracks one day--acts that were a dishonour to the good reputation of the open-hearted Livornese, with their free mode of speech and quick intelligence. Timid people retired and shut themselves up in their houses, the shops were closed, the streets deserted, and one saw some people running and others pursuing them, as dogs hares; reports of guns were heard, now close by and now in the distance, cries for mercy, the drums beating the _generale_, and the mournful tolling of the big bell,--all of which produced a fearful and cruel effect.