Part 18 (1/2)
The Grand Duke Leopold, that excellent sovereign, who was called the _babbo_--I know not if from affection or derision--was for me (and for many others who do not think proper to admit it) really paternal in his care and timely help. Almost every day he wished to have news of my health; and constantly sent Luigi Venturi, his secretary and a friend of mine, to make inquiries. When he heard that matters had come to this bad pa.s.s, he charged his private medical attendant, Luigi del Punta, to come and examine me, study my disease, and suggest a remedy. Del Punta, before coming to see me, acquainted my medical advisers with the order he had received, and a consultation was fixed for the following day, which was the 8th of September, 1852--the Feast of the Virgin. On that morning Alberti and Barzellotti arrived first, paid me a little visit, and then retired into the sitting-room to wait for Del Punta. The sitting-room was next to my room. Del Punta came in, and they talked for a long time, but in an undertone, so that I heard nothing, except one word p.r.o.nounced by Del Punta, which put me in a great state of apprehension, and that was ”tape-worm.” The idea that I could have that ugly malicious beast inside me frightened me, and when they came into my room they found me in a much worse condition than when they had left me a little time before. I always remember the piercing look of Del Punta, anxious and penetrating. Then he began to question me, and examine me all over, by auscultation, thumping, and squeezing me. His inspection was a long one; but as he proceeded little by little, his expression became more _open_, his beaming frank eyes met mine, and I could almost say that a mocking smile played about his lips. Seeing me still staring at him, he gave me a little tap with his hand on my shoulder, and said, ”Well, be of good cheer; there is nothing serious the matter.” And seeing that I did not believe him, he added, ”I tell you you haven't a cabbage-worth the matter with you!” and he said this with emphasis.
[Sidenote: CONSULTATION OF PHYSICIANS.]
Well, my dear reader, that foolish expression did me good. If he had a.s.sured me in the usual way, and with select phraseology, that I had nothing serious the matter with me, it would not have had the eloquence or efficacy of that slang word blurted out with such force in the face of the sick man, before the other medical men, with my poor wife listening sadly and anxiously, my little ones about me, not understanding, but full of vague fears on account of their mother's sadness and the novelty of the thing. It brought with it, I say, such a sense of conviction, that it was for me a true and positive affirmation.
Poor Luigi! as learned in medicine as you were genial as a friend, on that day you gave new life to me when I seemed to see it fleeting from me. You so vivacious, so full of health--I so weak and ill; who would have then said that so soon you would be gone?
[Sidenote: I AM SENT TO NAPLES.]
After having a.s.sured me and my wife that there was no serious disease, that I should certainly recover, he added that I required a special method of treatment that had more to do with a regimen of life than with medicine, and that he would refer the result of the consultation and his examination to the Grand Duke. In fact, he reported to the Grand Duke (as I afterwards learned), that in the condition in which I was, I could not have lived; my nerves were so shattered that I had become very weak, and that I suffered from vertigo and could hardly stand, and at last had lost my appet.i.te and power of sleeping. It was urgent that I should have rest; and this would consist in taking me away from home, away from my studio, from Florence, from all--in one word, sending me off on a journey, not a long one, but far enough to distract me from cares and thoughts that oppressed; this was the only remedy, he said, and could be freely adopted, as I had no internal disease. It was necessary that I should have a companion that I liked with me, and he suggested that my wife should accompany me.
A few days after, the Grand Duke informed me by means of his secretary, Venturi, that it was necessary for me to have a change of air, and that Professor del Punta had advised Naples, as it was a bright cheerful place to stay in--where the air was mild, and where there were many pleasant things to distract one: that I must therefore make my arrangements to go there; that my wife and one little girl must accompany me; and that I was not to give a thought to anything, as he provided for everything during the time that was necessary for my recovery, and he recommended me to his minister Cavaliere Luigi Bargagli.
[Sidenote: ARRANGEMENTS FOR DEPARTURE.]
Every day that preceded my departure, Professor del Punta came to see me, and encouraged me to be of good cheer also, on the part of the Grand Duke. The preparations for our departure were many, and by no means trifling. It was necessary to make arrangements so that the work in the studio should not be without direction, and should be carried on carefully. t.i.to Sarrocchi, then my scholar and workman, was intrusted with the direction of it. The works in hand, besides the statue of Sant'Antonino, were, ”Innocence and the Fisherman,” for Lord Crawford of London, and some busts. As to models in clay, I left a Bacco dell'uva Malata, that Sarrocchi had charge of until my return. My friends, artists and not artists, came during those days to say good-bye to me, some of them consoling themselves with hopes of my recovery, and others fearing that they should never see me again, so emaciated and sad was I; and Antonio Ciseri wept in saying good-bye.
Good gracious! how long and tedious is this narrative of your illness!
Long! yes or no. Long for you perhaps, who, as it would seem, have never been ill, and who do not know what a consolation it is for one who is suffering from the same malady as yourself to hear about such illness from one who is at present quite well. If it annoys you, have patience--some one may benefit by it; and at any rate, for the present I have done.
The night that preceded my departure, that dear saintly woman my wife remained up all night to put everything in the house in order, and to prepare what was needed for us--that is, myself, my wife, and Beppina, our second daughter. I had at that time four daughters: Amalia, who is the eldest; Beppina, who went with me; and Luisina and Emilia, who remained at home with their grandmother and Amalia. I lost Emilia quite young, dear little angel. Her little body rests in the cemetery of San Leonardo. Gigina I lost when she was grown up, and will speak of this in its place.
The journey had to be made by short stages in a _vettura_, so that it was necessary to hire a carriage and keep it at one's own expense as far as Naples. We left on the morning of the 20th of October 1852, arrived on the 28th, and lodged at the Hotel de Rome, Santa Lucia. That eight days' journey in the sweet company of my wife, the pretty, innocent questionings of Beppina about the fields, the rivers, and the villages that we pa.s.sed by one after the other, the novelty of the life, the pure country air, and the hope of regaining my health, had softened the asperity of my suffering. Apathy and sadness gradually gave way to a desire to see new things; my wife's questions and those of my little one obliged me to answer, and sometimes to smile. I felt my appet.i.te for food return, and I slept peacefully some hours every night.
[Sidenote: IMPRESSIONS OF NAPLES.]
In this way I arrived in Naples--in that immense city, so crowded with people, so noisy and deafening on account of the numbers of carriages, shouts of the coachmen, of the people offering things for sale, of jugglers, beggars, all speaking in a strange difficult dialect most unpleasant to a Tuscan. In this city the first impression made upon me was a mixture of wonder and anger. It seemed to me as if one could do all that those good people were doing without being obliged to scream and throw one's self about so much. Here a coachman smacked his whip within four fingers of your ears, to ask you if you wanted his carriage; there a man, selling iced water and lemonade, screamed out at the height of his voice I don't know what, and, to give it more force, beat with his lemon-squeezers against his metallic bench, like Norma or Villeda on Irminsul's s.h.i.+eld; a little farther on a half-naked beggar, with his ragged wife and children, shouted out, ”I am dying with hunger,” with lungs that a commander of a battalion in the battle-field might envy. These beggars, however, are for the most part impostors. One day--it was a _festa_--I was returning from San Gennaro, where I had been to Ma.s.s with my wife and little girl. I saw a man extended on the ground with his body and legs inside a doorway, his head and his arms out into the street; his mouth was green with gra.s.s that he had been chewing, and some of which was hanging out of his mouth. The people pa.s.sing by looked, and then went on their way talking and laughing as if it was nothing. I was stunned, indignant, and full of pity, and turning to my wife (and even I flinging about my arms in the Neapolitan fas.h.i.+on), said, with all the Christian and human resentment that I was capable of, ”How is it possible that, in such a flouris.h.i.+ng and civil city as this, a poor Christian is left to die of hunger in the street for want of a little bread which is denied him by his unnatural brethren, and is obliged to feed upon the food for beasts?” And I ran at once to a pastrycook's near by for some cakes, because I thought bread would be too hard food for a man reduced to such a state; and with a light heart on account of the good action, I took them to him that I might see him eat them, and as soon as he was a little restored give him some _soldi_. Clever indeed! You little thought that the man was an impostor! I bent over him, called him; he did not answer. I put a cake to his mouth, and he looked at me, took the cakes, and hid them in his bosom between his s.h.i.+rt and his skin, and this kind of a bag was crammed full of bread and other things. Some inquisitive people had stopped to look on, and seeing this, it seemed to me as if they laughed at my simplicity.
[Sidenote: I GIVE MY BOOTS TO A BEGGAR.]
And as I am on this question, and my memory serves me well, I will tell you of another beggar. In front of the Hotel de France, Largo Castello, where I was staying, is the Church of San Giacomo. At the door of this church a poor man stood from morning until night trembling, half naked, and barefoot. It made me feel badly, comfortably lodged as I was, and sitting smoking my cigar on the terrace, to see that poor creature out in the cold with his feet in the mud. More than once my poor wife had given him some _soldi_; but one day when it was raining heavily, and the poor man was out in it all, with his feet nearly covered by water, a happy thought struck me, inspired by Christian charity, and I said, ”I am here under cover, and have boots on my feet, while that poor wretch is there outside with no shoes on; I will give him my boots.” I rang the bell; the servant came, and I said to him, ”Raffael, take this pair of boots to that poor man over there by the door of San Giacomo.”
”Yes, sir,” said Raffael, and away he went.
I went back on to the balcony to enjoy the effect of my good deed, imagining that I should see an expression of amazement and joy on the man's face. Nothing of the sort; he remained there with the boots in hand as if he did not know exactly what sort of things they were, and when Raffael told him that I gave them to him, and pointed me out to him on the terrace, the man turned, looked up, and, always holding them in his hand, made signs of thanking me; then he put them down on the ground near his feet, and continued to stretch out his hands to the people entering the church! ”Ah, poor man,” I said, ”he wished to put them on to-morrow morning; he must wash himself, of course, and dry his feet before putting them on. How stupid of me! The people are just going in for the _novena_ (it was Christmas-time), and he does not want to lose a chance _grano_ to buy him some bread.” But the next morning he was still barefooted, and it was raining. I said to my wife--
[Sidenote: THE BEGGAR SELLS THE BOOTS.]
”Look, I sent that poor man my boots yesterday, so that he should not wet his feet, but he has not put them on. What do you think is the reason? What should you say?”
”He probably wishes to keep them for Sundays,” was the serious answer of that dear simple woman.
”You are joking, my dear; that man is old, and if he keeps them for Sundays he will not see the end of them. I say that he has sold them.”
”And I say, that if he had two or three _lire_ to spare, he would have wished to buy a pair, poor man!”
We each remained of our own opinion. Late in the day we went out, and, approaching the poor man, I said to him--
”Why have you not put on the boots that I gave you? Are they tight?”
”Your Excellency,” he replied, ”if I put the boots on, no one will give me another penny. I have sold them, your Excellency; and may the Virgin bless you.”