Among the Danes, and there were not many of them, who frequently came
to see me at the hospital, I must mention the kind and tactful musician
Niels Ravnkilde, whom I had known when I was a child. He had been
living in Rome now for some twenty years. He was gentle and quiet,
good-looking, short of stature, modest and unpretending, too weak of
character not to be friends with everyone, but equipped with a natural
dignity. When a young music master in Copenhagen, he had fallen in love
with a young, wealthy girl, whose affections he succeeded in winning in
return, but he was turned out of the house by her harsh, purse-proud
father, and in desperation had left Denmark to settle down in Rome. As
his lady-love married soon after and became a contented wife and
mother, he remained where he was. He succeeded in making his way.
He gradually became a favourite teacher of music among the ladies of
the Roman aristocracy, who sometimes invited him to their
country-houses in the Summer. He was on a good footing with the native
maestros most in request, who quickly understood that the modest Dane
was no dangerous rival. Graceful as Ravnkilde was in his person, so he
was in his art; there was nothing grand about him. But he was clever,
and had a natural, unaffected wit. His difficult position as a master
had taught him prudence and reserve. He was obligingness personified to
travelling Scandinavians, and was proud of having, as he thought, made
the acquaintance in Rome of the flower of the good society of the
Northern countries. Even long after he had come to the front, he
continued to live in the fourth storey apartment of the Via Ripetta,
where he had taken up his abode on his arrival in Rome, waited upon by
the same simple couple. His circumstances could not improve, if only
for the reason that he sent what he had to spare to relatives of his in
Copenhagen, who had a son who was turning out badly, and lived by
wasting poor Ravnkilde's savings. After having been the providence of
all Danish travellers to Rome for thirty years, certain individuals who
had influence with the government succeeded in obtaining a distinction
for him. The government then gave him, not even the poor little
decoration that he ought to have had twenty years before,
but--brilliant idea!--awarded him the title of _Professor_, which in
Italian, of course, he had always been, and which was a much more
insignificant title than _Maestro_, by which he was regularly called.
Ravnkilde wrote my letters at the hospital for me, and the day I came
out we drove away together to the French restaurant to celebrate the
occasion by a dinner.
I went from there up to Monte Pincio in a glorious sunshine, rejoiced
to see the trees again, and the people in their Sunday finery, and the
lovely women's faces, as well as at being able to talk to people once
more. It was all like new life in a new world. I met a good many
Scandinavians, who congratulated me, and a young savant, Giuseppe
Saredo, who, as professor of law, had been removed from Siena to Rome,
and with whom, at the house of dall'Ongaro at Florence, I had had some
delightful talks. We decided that we would keep in touch with one
another.