THE NUDE--THE STATUE OF DAVID--RAUCH--THE BASE OF THE
TAZZA--THE CHAPEL OF THE MADONNA DEL SOCCORSO--SEPULCHRAL
MONUMENTS FOR SAN LORENZO--THE 27TH OF APRIL 1859--COUNT
SCIPIONE BORGHESI--A GROUP OF THE DELUGE--COMPETITION FOR
WELLINGTON'S MONUMENT, AND A GREAT HELP.
I began to work, as I have said, upon the figure of the Dead Girl, and
upon the Bacchante, two subjects diametrically opposed to each
other,--the Bacchante representing the festivity, the dance, the
libations, and the weariness resulting from them; the Dead Girl, the
innocence of a few short days of life, the repose and the joy of an
eternal peace. This is a good method whereby to temper the expression
and form of one's works, and I recommend it to young artists, since
continually playing on the same string finally begets an annoyance and
weariness, which exhibit themselves in the work. If the Bacchante had
not been modified by this dead figure, which recorded an innocent life
and a serene death, it might have degenerated and lost that beauty which
is only to be found in what is good.
[Sidenote: THE NUDE.]
One other piece of advice. In conceiving and working out subjects which,
in their intention as well as in the manner required to express them,
tend towards sensuality, one should inspire one's self with a purely
intellectual love. To this kind of love one should adhere tenaciously,
for it is easy to go astray. Such love seizes, and desires, and prefers
to attain what is good, in which is included all that is true and all
that is beautiful; but the seductions of the senses veil the eyes of
reason and light the fires of voluptuousness. Therefore we should be
careful, in order that art, which is the mistress and mother of
civilisation, should not lower itself to be the corrupter of taste and
habits. It is not in the least in regard to nudity that we should be
circumspect, but in regard to the conception, the expression, and the
movement of the statue; in a word, to the state of mind, the idea, the
interior condition of the artist. Thus, for instance, one may look at a
figure entirely nude, like the Venus of the Capitol, and be impressed
merely by a reverent admiration, or by quite the opposite sentiment. The
purest and most sacred subjects, the most completely clothed
figures,--as, for instance, a nun, or the Santa Teresa of Bernini,--may
be impressed by an unequivocal sensuality. No! nudity does not offend
modesty. If it did, all the works of Michael Angelo deserve
condemnation; while on the contrary, as every one knows (I appeal for
the truth of this to the most prudish; to the priests, to the popes, who
ordered and placed in the churches the works of this divine man--and in
so doing did well, though these figures, both male and female, are as
naked as God made them), far from offending against decency in the
least, they elevate the mind into regions so high and so ideal that
their bodies are transfigured, so to speak, and clothed with a
supersensual light in which there is nothing earthly.
[Sidenote: REMOVAL OF THE DAVID OF ANGELO.]
About this period the question began to be agitated in respect to the
David of Michael Angelo. Already for some time artists and lovers of
works of art had expressed a fear that this masterpiece should remain
exposed to injury in the open air, and thus be subjected to constant
deterioration. A commission was nominated to examine into the matter and
prepare some manner of placing under shelter this celebrated work.
Professor Pasquale Poccianti, president of the commission, proposed that
it should be removed and placed in the Loggia dell'Orgagna close by,
under the great central arch. This proposition was supported strongly by
Lorenzo Bartolini, who had expressed his opinion several years before in
a letter addressed to Signor Giovanni Benericetti-Talenti, then
Inspector of the Academy of Fine Arts, and which I have seen. The Grand
Duke, assured by the opinion of such competent artists, ordered the
statue to be removed and placed under the Loggia, in conformity with the
advice of the commission, and with the plans presented for this end by
Professor Poccianti. It was the intention of the Grand Duke to
substitute for the colossus that he removed a copy of it in bronze, to
be cast by Papi, and the order was given for making a mould and casting
it. I was not on the commission for the removal; on the contrary, I was
among those who did not believe in the injuries which the statue was
supposed to be suffering. I did not think that there was any grave
danger in allowing it to remain where it was, or that the cause that had
produced the very apparent injury occasioned to the head and the left
arm was constant dropping of water from the roof above; and as this had
already been guarded against, it seemed to me inadvisable to remove it
and withdraw it from public view. I remembered also to have read that
Michael Angelo himself had strongly urged that it should be allowed to
remain where he had placed it, and where he, in working at it, had
harmonised it with its surroundings; for even then doubts were raised
lest it might suffer injury in that position. And besides, I did not
consider it prudent to remove such a colossal statue, both on account of
the danger of the operation, and because I thought it impossible to find
another place so favourable for artistic effect and historical
significance. Therefore, when I learned that its removal had been
decreed, I regretted it extremely. Information of this intention was
given me by my friend Luigi Venturi, from whom I did not conceal my
regret; and as the Grand Duke was well disposed towards me, I decided to
go that very evening to the Pitti Palace and humbly submit all the
arguments which induced me to oppose this removal of the David. He
received me with his customary kindness, and imagining perhaps that I
desired to speak with him about some work which I was doing for him on
commission (of which I shall speak in its proper place), he said--
"Sit down, and tell me what you have to say."
[Sidenote: ARGUMENTS AGAINST THE REMOVAL.]
"Your Imperial Highness, I have heard with great surprise that you
intend to remove the David from where it now stands, and to place it
under the Loggia dell'Orgagna."
"Yes; that statue is, as you know, the masterpiece of Michael Angelo. It
is suffering injury every day, and it is dangerous to leave it there
exposed to the sun and the rain. It ought to be placed under cover, and
the Loggia is not only so near as to render the operation of removal
easy and safe, but it also is a most beautiful place, and with its great
central arch will fitly frame this magnificent statue."
I answered--"I also always have thought that this statue suffers from
its exposure to the frost and sun--although the marble is from
Fantiscritti, and is of most durable quality; and naturally the idea
suggests itself to one that it would be better to remove it where it
would not be subjected to this slow but certain deterioration. But the
grave question which has always preoccupied my mind has been the
difficulty of handling this colossus, so weak in its supports; and what
renders this all the more difficult is the crack which is said to have
been discovered in the leg upon which it stands, which is the weakest. I
therefore think that if this crack exists, it constitutes another and
principal reason why the statue should not be touched. But independent
of this difficulty, which practised and scientific persons might
possibly overcome, there is the question as to where it should be
placed. This colossus is made for the open air, and to be seen at great
distances; and the place to which it is now proposed to assign it is not
in the open air, and has not the light of the sky, but on the contrary,
a light reflected from the earth, so that only the lower part would be
illuminated, and in a negative sense--that is, from below upward, and
not from above downward, as from the light of the sky. The upper part
would in consequence remain in a half light, so as to divide the statue
into two zones: the one which would be in the half light ought to be
illuminated, and that which would be illuminated ought to be in
graduated shadow. And again, there is no distance: from the sides it is
not sufficient, and in front the statue would seem too high in
consequence of the steps of the Loggia. Nor only this: if for the
reasons I have stated the statue itself would suffer, the Loggia would
suffer still more, and would be enormously sacrificed, and in
consequence of the colossal proportions of the statue, its beautiful
arches would be dwarfed; and still more----"
"Enough!" the Grand Duke with vexation interrupted me. "These are
considerations which might have been discussed, but now the thing has
been decreed." And rising, he added, "Good evening,"--which being
interpreted into common language, was as much as to say, "Go away; you
bore me."
[Sidenote: THE GRAND DUKE DISMISSES ME.]
I bowed and went away. On the stairs I said to myself, "You have done a
pretty business. You see how you were dismissed, and with what
irritation. You had better have minded your business. What had you to do
with this? Did he ask you to give your advice? No; you have your
deserts, and will learn better another time." And slowly, slowly I
returned home. But none the less I was not dissatisfied with myself for
having spoken frankly to the Grand Duke on this matter. I had expressed
my true opinion, and I should have felt more regret if I had been
silent, inasmuch as I was thoroughly convinced of the utility and
propriety of what I had said. Besides, I knew how good the Grand Duke
was, and with what attention he had listened to me on other occasions
when he interrogated me on questions relating to art in general, or to
my own works in particular. But the phrase "decreed" still hammered in
my head, and I said to myself, "Very well,--it is decreed; but his
decree is not a decree of heaven. We shall see. After all, I have said
what it seemed to me just to say, and there is nothing improper in that;
and if there was any impropriety, it was on his part in not allowing me
to finish. And there is this also," I said--"that colossus in the middle
of the Loggia will dwarf all the other statues, and make them of little
consequence; so that by an accursed necessity they will have to remove
the group of the Rape of the Sabines, and the Perseus, which stand very
well there, as well as the Centaur and the Ajax, and all the others
along the wall, which are not placed well, whether the David is there or
not."
[Sidenote: VISIT OF RAUCH.]
But in the meantime, a fortunate incident gave a new direction to the
affair of the removal of the David, and a great weight to my words.
One morning a gentleman came to my studio, who said he wished to see me.
I, who then was accustomed to permit no one to pass into my private
studio, went out to see him. He was tall of person, dignified, and
benevolent of aspect; his eyes were blue, and over his handsome forehead
his white hair was parted and carried behind the ears in two masses,
which fell over the collar of his coat. He extended his hand to me, and
said--
"For some time I have heard you much spoken of; but as Fame is
frequently mendacious, in coming to Florence I wished, first of all, to
verify by an examination of your works the truth of all I have heard of
you; and as I find them not inferior to your high reputation, I wished
to have the pleasure of shaking your hand;" and he then took both my
hands in his.
"You are an artist?" I asked.
"Yes," he replied,--"a sculptor."
I wondered who he could be. He spoke Italian admirably, but with a
foreign accent.
"Excuse me,--are you living in Rome?"
"Oh no," he answered; "I lived there for thirty years, but now for some
time I have been in Berlin. I am Rauch."
I bowed to him, and he embraced me and kissed me, and accompanying me
into my private room, we sat down. I shall never forget his quiet
conversation, which was calm and full of benevolence. While he was
speaking, I went over in my memory the beautiful works of this great
German artist,--his fine monument to Frederick the Great, his remarkable
statue of Victory, and many others. I recalled the sharp passages
between him and Bartolini, and without knowing why, I could not help
contrasting his gentleness with the caustic vivacity of our master.
Their disagreements have long been over; the peace of the tomb has
united them; and now the busts of both stand opposite to each other in
the drawing-room of my villa of Lappeggi.
[Sidenote: RAUCH'S VISIT TO THE GRAND DUKE.]
Among other things, we discussed the question of the removal of the
David, and its proposed collocation under the Loggia dell'Orgagna. He
strongly disapproved of it, and exhorted me to use all my influence (to
use his own words) to induce the Grand Duke to alter this decision. I
then narrated to him my conversation with the Grand Duke, and the issue
of it. He was surprised, and after thinking awhile, said that perhaps
there was no ground to despair, and that I ought to speak of it again
and to insist. I answered--
"I really cannot do so. You, however, might. Your name, and the
friendship of the Grand Duke for you, might perform miracles; and
nothing else is needed, as there is already a decree in the way."
"Leave it to me. To-morrow I am invited to dine at Court, and I will
manage so that they will speak to me of this; and unless they ask me, I
will not let it be known that we have met."
A few days afterwards he returned and told me that he had spoken at
length on the subject with the Grand Duke, who did not seem to be
annoyed, but on the contrary, listened to him to the end; and then
smiling, said that I had advanced the same doubts and objections. He
then thought it best to openly confess that we had talked together on
the subject. Rauch went away shortly after; but he so well managed the
affair, that the Grand Duke thought no more of the removal of the statue
to the Loggia, considering the means proper to shield it from the
injuries of the weather. He also sent for me to tell me that Rauch had
advised him not to place it under the Loggia, and I remember used these
words: "Rauch is entirely of your opinion in regard to the David, and he
is a man who, on such a ground, deserves entire confidence; and I wish
to say this to you, because it ought to give you pleasure, and because
it proves that you were right."
[Sidenote: LETTER FROM RAUCH ABOUT THE DAVID.]
I thanked the Grand Duke for the attention and consideration he had paid
to the reasoning of Rauch in regard to the David, as well as for his
kindness towards me; and this procured me a dismissal more benignant
than the previous one. A short time after, I received a letter from
Rauch from Berlin, in which he spoke to me of the David. I showed it to
the Grand Duke, who ordered me to leave it with him. But he returned it
a few days later, and I have transcribed the passage relating to the
David:--
"I learn with great pleasure that his Highness the Grand Duke
has resolved to leave the statue of David in its place in
consequence of the trial made with the plaster cast. But I
should like to recommend to his Highness to remove the group of
Ajax and Patroclus from its present position, and to arrange a
proper place of just proportion and with a good light, to
receive worthily this work of sculpture divinely composed and
executed by Greek hands.
"BERLIN, _17th December 1854_."
This is the reason why the statue of David was allowed to remain in its
place for some twenty years more, and until the fear of the danger which
this masterpiece undoubtedly incurred induced the Municipality and the
Government to order its removal to the Academy of Fine Arts, where it
now stands, but where it is not seen; for if the Government is liberal
in spending many millions upon a Palace of Finance in Rome, it feels
itself so restricted that it obstinately refuses to spend a few
thousands to complete the building which is to harbour the most
beautiful sculpture in the world.
[Sidenote: RESTORATION OF THE PORPHYRY TAZZA.]
It was at this time that the Royal Manufactory of Pietre Dure finished
the restoration of the famous Tazza of porphyry--a most precious and
rare object, which, from the time of Cosimo I., to whom Pope Clement
VII. presented it, had remained hidden in the store-rooms, and in great
part mutilated. Now, as I have said, owing to the great care and
intelligence of the directors, united to the goodwill and money of the
Prince, it had been restored to its pristine beauty and perfection. In
order that this work, which is also an historical record, should be
properly exhibited by itself in the Royal Gallery, the Grand Duke
desired that it should be placed on a base with a new and rich design,
which should at once be a completion and adornment of the Tazza itself,
and also offer an occasion for a work of sculpture. In matters of this
kind this excellent Prince was intelligent, earnestly entered into them,
and gave full liberty to the artist who wrought for him; and this work
he would have carried out had not the revolution interrupted it. But let
us not be in a hurry.
I imagined a base of a form naturally cylindrical, with ovolo mouldings.
That from below the base of the Tazza descended in a vertical line to
the base, which stood upon a quadrate plinth. Between the base and the
Tazza--that is to say, on the first cylinder--was a complete history of
the Tazza, by means of symbolical figures which represented its origin,
fortunes, and final destination. Perhaps this Tazza once embellished
the immense gardens of the ancient Pharaohs; and when their empire was
overthrown by the power of Rome, all things great and precious which the
genius and power of the nation had produced were either destroyed or
carried off. This Tazza, as well as the famous obelisks, were brought to
Rome. On the fall of the Roman Empire, the Tazza and obelisks remained,
and the former was presented by Clement VII., together with other
precious objects (among which was the Venus--so called--de' Medici), to
Cosimo I. After the Medician domination was over, the Tazza remained
forgotten, until it was restored, as I have said, and placed in the
Pitti Gallery, where it now stands.
[Sidenote: THE BASE OF THIS TAZZA.]
To express artistically this history, I imagined four groups,
representing Thebes with the genius of mechanics, Imperial Rome with the
genius of conquest, Papal Rome with the genius of religion, and Tuscany
with the genius of art. _Thebes_ is in a sad and thoughtful attitude,
with a simple vest without mantle, and has on his head the Egyptian
fillet. He holds by the hand his genius, who frowning and unwillingly
follows after him and looks backward, recalling "il tempo felice nella
miseria." In his hand he carries a pair of broken compasses, to denote
his lost empire over science and art; and at his feet is a truncated
palm, around which is coiled and sleeping the sacred serpent. _Imperial
Rome_ stands in a proud attitude, resting her right hand on the consular
fasces, and the left hand gathering up her mantle, which falls to her
feet. She is crowned with oak-leaves, and above her head is a lion-skin
in the shape of a helmet. Her genius, with a bold step and fierce
aspect, grasps a lance and a torch, implements of destruction and
emblems of iron and fire. _Papal Rome_ stands still, with three crowns
on her head, from which the fillets descend upon her breast. She is
dressed in the pontifical robes, and holds closed upon her breast the
Bible. Her genius, dressed in a Levite tunic, and with one hand holding
a cross and the other placed upon his breast, in sign of faith and
humility, treads on a serpent, the symbol of error, which even from the
earliest time insinuated itself into the Church. _Tuscany_ is in the act
of walking. On the diadem which crowns her head are engraved the Tiber
and the Magra, the rivers which bounded ancient Etruria. She holds the
royal sceptre in her right hand, and in her left the palladium of the
arts. Her genius is crowned with laurels, and leans upon a _cippus_, on
which are disposed the implements which are used in the arts of poetry,
music, sculpture, painting, and architecture, bound together by a branch
of olive, to denote that the arts are only developed during peace.
[Sidenote: DESCRIPTION OF THE BASE.]
This conception, which was clearly expressed in a sketch, met with the
approbation of the sovereign, and he ordered me to model it on a large
scale, to be cast in bronze. Afterwards, it seeming to me that the dark
hue of bronze, added to the shadow cast by the Tazza itself, would
injure the effect of my work, I sought and obtained permission to
execute it in marble; and I was at once paid for my model. In the
meantime, in consequence of rich work of great delicacy, it became
necessary to seek for some marble which should be hard, white, and
beautiful; for this work differed from others in having no back view, in
which ordinarily the imperfections of the marble can be hidden, but was
exposed on all sides, in consequence of its round form, every point of
view being a principal one. Hence there was a difficulty in finding a
block entirely free from blemish, and having no spots to injure the
view of any important part. The search for this consumed much time; and
when at last I had a clear hope that I had found it, the revolution
first suspended, and afterwards ended, everything. I shall return to
this subject later, and at present I shall go on.
[Sidenote: CHAPEL OF THE MADONNA DEL SOCCORSO.]
At the same time the Grand Duke ordered me to decorate a chapel of the
Madonna del Soccorso at Leghorn. Of this, which is the first on the left
on entering the church, he had become the patron. The chapel was to
represent the entire life of the Madonna. I made a large sketch, in
relief, of the chapel and the ornaments of the altar, with statues and
pictures on the side walls. In the great lunette over the altar, I
designed and coloured the Annunciation of the Virgin. In the empty
spaces between the arc of the lunette and the side walls, which are
trapezic like half pedestals, were angels painted upon a mosaic ground
of gold, and holding spread out rolls of papyrus, on which were written
the prophecies of the Virgin and of Christ. The altars I made with
columns and round arches, with a straight base, after the style of the
_Quattrocentisti_. The table of the altar represented the return from
Calvary of the Virgin with St John. Behind, in the distance, were seen
the crosses, and the angels of the Passion weeping and flying from the
sorrowful scene. This also I designed and coloured in my sketch. Under
the table, and through a perforated screen, was seen the dead body of
Christ, illuminated by hidden lights. The statues in the niches of the
lateral walls were to be St John and St Luke, as those who had specially
written about the Virgin. In the two lateral walls above the niches,
there were to be two pictures representing the Nativity and the Death;
and these compositions, as well as the sketches of the two statues of
John and Luke, I did not carry out, relying upon the intelligence of
the Grand Duke, which would enable him to judge from what I did do.
[Sidenote: WORKS ORDERED BY THE GRAND DUKE.]
Besides this complex and important work--the Scriptural portion of which
I was to execute, while in regard to the paintings and architecture, I
was assigned the post of director, with an authority to select the
artists,--besides this, I say, he ordered of me the monuments to the
Grand Duke Ferdinand III. his father, to his brother, his sister, and
various of his children, all to be erected in the chapel called the
"Vergine Ben Tornata," which is in San Lorenzo, where at present is to
be seen the monument of the Grand Duchess Maria Carolina. And all these
monuments I designed, and made sketches of them, which were approved by
his Highness; and a royal rescript was made to me, signed by the
President of the Ministry, Prince Andrea Corsini, ordering me to execute
these works. But the 27th of April 1859, foreseen by all, unexpected by
few, arrived and overthrew everything.
From all these statements, two facts are clear; the first, that the
Grand Duke esteemed me--and the second, that I knew absolutely nothing
of the revolutionary movement of these days: and this increased the not
small number of persons, who held me in dislike, owing to the favour
which I enjoyed at Court, and owing to the works which were intrusted to
me. These persons, whom I must not call artists, showed themselves, both
then and after, to be sorely deficient in intellect and heart, in
blaming me for my affection and gratitude towards the Prince, who
treated me so beneficently.
I have said that the events of the 27th of April were quite unexpected
by me. But how was it possible for me to know anything, when those who,
above all, were so intimately acquainted with what was going on, kept
me at a distance, and some, as for instance the Marquis Gualterio, who
usually frequented my studio, withdrew entirely from me? Besides, how
many there were who were as much in the dark as I, though they were in a
position that almost obliged them not to be ignorant! I remember that
the Sardinian Minister, Buoncompagni, who lived in the Pennetti Palace
in Borgo Pinti, gave every week (I do not remember on what day) a
reception or party at which I met and conversed, with the utmost
frankness, with the Advocate Vincenzo Salvagnoli, Giovanni Baldasseroni,
then Minister, the Marquis Lajatico, the Marchioness Ginori, as well as
the Princess Conti and others, and all of us were ignorant.
[Sidenote: DEMONSTRATION AGAINST GRAND DUKE.]
It was only on Easter morning (I believe it was the _antivigilia_ of the
revolution) that I heard that something was to occur, but vaguely; there
was nothing positive or precise. There was to be some sort of
demonstration or manifestation to induce the Grand Duke to enter into a
league with Piedmont for the war of independence. But afterwards,
reassured by one who ought to have known more than I, that it was really
nothing, but mere idle talk, and childish vague reports, I believed him.
And then? The day after, I met Count Scipione Borghesi, my excellent
friend, who, as soon as he saw me, said--
"Well, I have just arrived from Siena; and to what point have we come?"
"About what?" I answered.
"About our request--about our demonstration, which is already organised.
It should take place to-day. What! you know nothing about it?"
"I know nothing--and there is nothing to know; trust me, for I ought to
know something about it," I answered, assuming rather an air of
authority.
My friend was a little disturbed at first; and then smiling, he added--
"It may be as you say. Have you any commands for Siena?"
"No, thank you. Are you going back to Siena soon?"
"Eh? Who knows?--to-morrow--the day after to-morrow--as may be."
"Good-bye, then," I said, and we shook hands.
[Sidenote: POPULAR DEMONSTRATION.]
The next morning, from my little villa which I had rented at the Pian di
Giullari, I went down to Florence, taking my usual route, at about
half-past eight, when I saw a gathering of people, and groups here and
there crowded together and talking excitedly. I then began to suspect
something. I went to my studio, uncovered my clay, and waited for the
model, who should have been there. She kept me waiting for an hour; and
before I could reprove her for her unpunctuality, she told me that she
had been detained by the great crowd of the demonstration which blocked
up all the streets around Barbano, and that the Piazza was thronged with
people carrying banners and emblems. "Bravo!" I said to myself, "I did
know a good deal!" At the same time, an under-officer and instructor of
the Lyceum Ferdinando, who lived over me, came to the window and cried
out "Viva Italia!" and his pupils repeated his cry with enthusiasm. "Do
you know what this means?" I asked of my model, who was already
undressed. "I cannot work now; dress yourself, and go." She at once
obeyed, and I remained thinking over the fact. I desired that the Grand
Duke should yield, as in fact he did yield, to the League with Piedmont
for the war against the foreigner; and I was grieved when I heard of his
departure. On returning to the country, I met my friend the advocate
Mantellini with Duchoqué, and we were all very sorry for what had
occurred, although I had nothing to do with the events which took place
either before or on that day.
[Sidenote: SKETCH FOR MONUMENT TO WELLINGTON.]
The desire to give an account of this day has kept me for some time from
the regular order of my records, and I must now return upon my steps.
When I had completed the model for the base of the Tazza, a desire came
over me to model a group of colossal dimensions. I had selected as
subject the universal Deluge, and with youthful ardour I had sketched
out the whole, and had fairly well modelled some of the parts. But as at
that time the English Parliament had decided to erect an imposing
monument to the Duke of Wellington, and to that end had opened a
world-competition, I stopped working on my group, and set myself to
think out the monument to Wellington. I had, however, little wish to
compete, because it seemed to me that the work would finally be
intrusted to an English sculptor, and that love of country would
naturally overcome that rectitude of judgment which is so deeply seated
in the spirit of that great nation. And so it happened that I had, as I
have said, little desire to compete; and besides, I have always been
opposed to competitions, and I shall explain my reasons for this
elsewhere. But my friends at first began by proposing it to me, then
said so much, and urged the matter with such insistence, that finally I
yielded and competed. This work of mine I cannot exactly describe,
because, not having seen it for many years, I scarcely remember it. Let
me try, however. In the angles of the great embasements were groups
representing Military Science, Political Science, Temperance, and
Fortitude, each with his Genius. The four faces of the base were
ornamented with _alti-rilievi_. [Sidenote: THE GRAND DUKE SENDS ME TO
LONDON.]
Above this rose upon another base the principal group of Wellington with
Victory and Peace. There was a large contribution of Florentine
sculpture sent to London, for Fedi, Cambi, and Cartei competed as well,
and their models were exhibited before going to England. The sending of
these models was not without risk, owing to their fragility--being in
plaster--the minuteness of the work upon them, and the length of the
journey. All these difficulties did not escape the attention of our
benevolent sovereign, who had seen my model; and as soon as I had sent
it off, he told me he thought it both prudent and even necessary for me
to go to London to attend to my work and see it taken out of its box. I
answered that I had no fear of its being injured, having had it so well
packed, and depending on the Government officials who were intrusted to
receive and see to the placing of these competitive works. These were
the reasons I gave; but there were others of a more intimate and
delicate nature, for out of respect for the other competitors I did not
wish to appear as if I went to push forward my own work. On his Highness
urging me more and more, I told him all my thoughts, and he replied,
with a smile, "If it is on account of this, you can go at once, for Fedi
came to take leave of me yesterday; and to facilitate your journey, I
shall give you a hundred _zecchini_. I could give you a letter for King
Leopold of the Belgians, my good friend, but that would be like a
recommendation, so I shall abstain from doing so. Go and make haste, for
if your work should be damaged on its arrival, who is there who could
mend it? Therefore go; and good-bye."