PIUS IX. OBJECTS TO HAVING ME MAKE HIS BUST--I GO TO ROME TO
SEE THE POPE--THE EXHIBITION AT NAPLES--AGAIN ON IDEALISM AND
NATURALISM--THE MASTERS OF ITALIAN MELODY--VINCENZO BELLINI AND
HIS MONUMENT--CONCLUSION.
I narrated, all in its proper place, how it happened that I was not
enabled to make King Victor Emmanuel's portrait; and it is necessary for
me now to explain how I did not obtain the concession to make a bust of
Pius IX. Marchese Pompeo Bourbon del Monte, the President of the Working
Men's Catholic Association in Florence, had the intention of giving me
an order to make a bust of the Pope, to place in a niche in our Duomo,
with an inscription commemorative of the great pontiff's passage through
Florence, and his consecration of four bishops there. Naturally the Pope
was first asked whether he was willing that his bust should be made and
should be placed in our Duomo. With both of these propositions the Pope
showed his great satisfaction, and he was therefore asked the favour of
giving some sittings to the sculptor; but on hearing my name, he refused
to do so, because, having made Cavour's monument, he did not wish me to
take his portrait. To speak the truth, this species of censure on the
part of the Pope was most unpleasant to me. As long as some of the
prejudiced journalists of the extreme party, in blaming me for having
executed this work, assailed me on the ground that some of the nude
allegorical figures (just imagine, children of seven!) were obscene, I
let it pass; but the condemnation of the Holy Father was a great
vexation to me. As Monsignore Archbishop Cecconi had been the
intermediary, I wrote him a letter expressing my regret, and went over
the story of the monument, and how I had accepted it, and what
expression I had given to it, saying that I had not thought I was doing
any harm, and that I was extremely pained to have met with the Holy
Father's displeasure, and begging Monsignore to make known these
sentiments of mine to the Pope. In fact the Pope heard of my letter, or
at least a part of it, and answered that he had never doubted my
sentiments or my good intentions, but for all that he was not willing to
have his portrait taken by me; and that, to prevent the matter from
appearing _ad hominem_, he would not give permission for it to be made
by any one else.
[Sidenote: AUDIENCE OF PIUS IX.]
A few months after this, wishing to go to Naples to see the Italian
Exhibition, I stopped on my way in Rome, and saw the Pope, but not in a
private audience. Nevertheless, he spoke benevolently to me, and said,
"Dear Duprè, what fine works are you doing now?" I who, I must admit,
never find myself embarrassed by any one, stood there perfectly
nonplussed, and was not able to utter a word; and that poor saintly old
man, to put an end to my embarrassment, continued, "I pity you; the
political vicissitudes and the noises of war distract the mind of the
artist, and are, in fact, opposed to the development of his genius."
Then turning to my daughter, he said, "And you, too: well done, my
sculptress; I bless you together with your father."
It really gave me pleasure to see him again, and listen for the last
time to that vibrating, and, at the same time, benevolent voice.
Something within me told me that he would soon be missing to us; and in
fact, barely eight months after, he died, and but a few days after the
king, to whom, during his last moments, he had sent his benediction; and
report has it that he even said he would have gone himself to comfort
the king, whom he personally loved, during his last hours, had he not
been really so ill himself. These words of his gained for him the
goodwill of those who were not his friends.
[Sidenote: EXHIBITION AT NAPLES--IDEALISM.]
Now I must speak of the Exhibition at Naples, and most particularly of
the naturalistic element that manifested itself there in sculpture. It
deserves being studied with attention, so as to enable young artists of
good purpose, and for whom I have most particularly written these
memoirs, to acquire something that may be useful to them. Naturally the
vast question of realism and idealism rises again to the surface. Those
who know me, know that I am neither a realist nor an idealist, be it
understood, as is generally intended and practised.
Idealism, in my opinion, is nothing else but a species of vision that
the artist creates by strong love in his mind when he thinks of a given
subject. Idealism is therefore the idea of the subject, and not in the
least the idea of the parts of the form. It is true that even these are
associated pleasantly together in the mind, but it is wrong and false to
believe that we can grasp hold of them only by the help of memory, and
without having nature before us. The idealist, as I should understand
him, seeks in nature for the models appropriate to his idea and his
subject. He does not content himself with one alone, because he does not
find in one, or even in two, the multiplicity of parts by which his idea
is composed. From one he takes the several masses and movement, and
will take great care in these never to change from his model; from
another he will take the head, or the hands, or other parts of the body
in which the model for the general masses may have been defective, and
will be careful that in age and character they be not dissimilar from
the principal model--that is to say, the model that he has used for the
general form. If he departs here or there from this simple method, the
idealist will fall into academical conventionalism, or into the vulgar
and defective. Corrections of the model's defects made from memory bring
us to conventionalism, and the exact imitation of the model alone drags
us down to the vulgar and defective, because it is humanly impossible
that one model can have in himself, besides the whole, all the
perfections of parts that constitute beauty, which is the aim of art.
Such, and nothing else, is the idealist; and so am I, and such has
always been my teaching.
[Sidenote: REALISM.]
Now let us see the realistic. The naturalistic, to my way of seeing, is
simply intolerant of long study of the many rules and dogmas of the
academicians that teach one to make statues in very nearly always the
same way, with the same measures and with the same character--be it a
Virgin or a Venus, a Messalina or an Ophelia, and so on. He is in love
with his own subject, and wishes to give it expression in its true
character and with its own individual expression, and even with those
particularities and imperfections that distinguish it from others.
Bartolini did so in his "Ammostatore," in his "Putti" for Demidoff's
table, and in almost all his works; and so did Vela with his "Napoleon
I." and his "Desolazione"; and lastly, although in a much more minute
manner, did Magni with his "Reading Girl"; and up to this point I am
naturalistic, and stand up for it. But in these days there is another
species of naturalistics--better call them realistics--who love truth
and nature to the extent of accepting even the ugly and bad in form and
the useless and revolting in idea. And truly here I am neither with
them, nor can I advise any one to hold in esteem this school, that I
should rather be inclined to call the hospital or sewer of art. But what
I have said so far is enough, for elsewhere I have touched upon the same
subject, and do not want to repeat myself, but only to mention the
question again, because at the great show in Naples the naturalistic
school appeared in sculpture in all its audaciousness, and, I must
frankly say, in all its power, worthier of a better cause and better
intentions; and this, it is presumably to be hoped, may be at last more
easily recognised by the young men who look for the truth, even
wallowing in ugliness, than from those who fill their heads with the
idea of looking for the beautiful in their memory and conventionalism.
From this it is evident that I have a predilection for the naturalist
who caresses an idea and the idealist who is a faithful and not a timid
friend of truth. The artist is not a servile copyist of nature--of ugly
nature; not the imitator of statues, even though they are beautiful; not
the slave of the name and teaching of the masters, ancient and modern.
[Sidenote: NATURALISTS AND IDEALISTS.]
I like the artist to be free in his imaginations, free in his feeling,
free in his way of expressing himself and in his method, but yet
strongly and tenaciously bound to nature and the beautiful. By this
means we could have more good artists and fewer mediocre ones; but as
long as there is official teaching it is useless to hope for it.
Government schools, in spite of the difficulty of admission and
advancement from one class to another, will always have too many
scholars, amongst whom some--the very few, those who are really destined
by nature for art--will have lost too much time in long academic
courses; the others, the many, will have lost it entirely, because it is
difficult with official teaching for any graduate to be expelled from
school on account of tardy development or want of talent.
[Sidenote: INFLUENCE OF ACADEMIC TEACHING.]
I do not say, indeed, that young men ought not to study, or ought to
study only a little. Quite the contrary. They ought to study very
much--study always; but with freedom--perfect freedom in their way of
seeing and feeling and expressing the multiformity of nature; and as
this freedom does not and cannot exist in official teaching, young men
ought to select a master after their own taste. Certainly masters who do
not belong to these academies will accept but few scholars, and will
retain still fewer--that is to say, the best, those who give promise of
succeeding--and the rest they will send away. And here is the great
gain, because the minor arts--subsidiary, so to speak, to the fine arts,
will take possession of these young men, who, instead of becoming
mediocre artists, will become good workmen. Official teaching in the
fine arts ought to be confined to architecture; in fact, there it ought
to be amplified by the study of mathematics, engineering, and its
mechanical application. The purse and the safety of citizens must surely
be protected.
This little digression on teaching, which I have elsewhere treated more
at length, has sprung up and been jotted down here after having seen the
exhibition of the works of art of the Neapolitan school. I say the
school, and not the academy--I should better say the grades of the
naturalistic school of Neapolitan sculpture. It is undeniable that
various works in sculpture, exposed to the solemn trial of the
Neapolitan Exhibition, show that the young sculptors have emancipated
themselves outright from the trammels of academical teaching, and have
entered with full sails into the interminable sea of nature. This sea is
beautiful, full of agitation and life, and in its greatness rouses the
desire of research into the unknown; and to him who navigates therein
with strength and purpose, promises unknown lands, rich in supreme
beauty. But it is easy enough, by steering one's boat badly, or missing
one's direction, to get stranded or dashed to pieces against the rocks.
[Sidenote: SIGNOR D'ORSI'S PARASITES.]
Signor d'Orsi exposed a group in plaster representing the Parasites.
Nothing could have been better imagined than those two (I don't know how
to call them) creatures. Brutified by food and wine, they sleep or
drowse on a _triclinium_, leaning against each other. They are a literal
imitation; and in this is all the merit of the work. It is not minute
imitation, that battle-horse of small minds, but really the true
expression of the conception and intention of the artist; but the idea
is hideous, enormously hideous, so that to many it appeared disgusting
and revolting; and I felt on looking at the work two opposite
feelings--one that drove me from it, and another that kept me fixed to
the spot. The ugliness of the subject and its forms repelled me; the
knowledge and art by which it was expressed attracted me, and forced me
to admire the talent of Signor d'Orsi. "This man," said I to myself,
"has not come out of the academy; he is looking for a passage through
the vast sea of nature, and a shore to land on. Will he find it?"
[Sidenote: AMENDOLA'S "CAIN AND HIS WIFE."]
A group in plaster of "Cain and his Wife" is the subject exhibited by
Signor Giov. Battista Amendola. Considered from the point of view of
expression, it is of wonderful truthfulness. This man, guilty of
fratricide, cursed by God, stands there transfixed to earth; the anguish
that oppresses him overcomes his arrogance; and not even the sweet words
and caresses of his companion are able to appease that sullen brow and
ferocious look. But Signor Amendola, who has so well entered into the
human sentiment of passion, pain, and rage that agitates the heart and
upsets the mind, has made a mistake in the physical character that he
has, with intention, given his figure. For since Cain and his wife are
of a savage ugliness, more resembling the family of the orangoutang than
the human being, he seems to be a follower of Darwin's theories, which,
if they are desolating as regards science and human dignity, are
absolutely revolting when represented in art. The truth is, that I think
the primitive type of our race, although fierce and uncultivated, was
much more beautiful than it appears to-day in our young men and young
girls, who are with difficulty built up by preparation of iron and
sea-baths. Then beauty was undoubtedly coupled with vigour and strength;
but bad habits, mistaken education, effeminacy, and vice, have so
diminished its vigour and physical beauty, that if one desired nowadays
to make a "Cain," an "Abel," or an "Adam," it would be difficult to find
amongst our young men a model who even distantly resembled them in their
splendid strong beauty. It is also strange and absurd to look for them
amongst the savages of New Zealand. I admire Signor Amendola's strength
of conception and expression, but I blame his application of it in the
selection of his types. He also is an artist that does not seem to be an
academical student; and if to originality of subject and truth of
expression, of which he has given proof in his group of "Cain and his
Wife," he adds study and love in the research of the beautiful in
nature, he will get on and be an artist, and what counts more, an
original artist, but otherwise he will not. To make Cain, and even his
wife, one must not, therefore, look for a model amongst the
anthropophagi or amongst the young men who live between Doney's and the
Piazza del Duomo. First of all, the type of such a subject, like any
other, must be clearly in the mind of the artist, and then, with a great
deal of study and love, he must seek for it in nature, abandoning in
part or entirely those places where such types have no existence.
[Sidenote: TYPE OF CAIN.]
When I made my "Cain," I had the good fortune to find the model without
the slightest difficulty; and the model I used was a strong and
beautiful man, and what was more, he had feeling for action and
expression, so that I copied him to the best of my ability, without even
giving a thought to the classical style so much recommended by
Academicians, although not copying with servility all the little
accidents of veins, wrinkles, and so forth (nowadays some people even
imitate the corns and glands). I answered the Signora Laura Bianchi of
Siena in these same words, or something like them, when she asked me, at
the instance of Thorwaldsen, who was in intimate relations with the
family, and made the monument to her husband, Cavaliere Giulio, what
style I had used in making that statue, which he had not yet seen. Later
I became personally acquainted with this distinguished artist, at a ball
in Casa Larderel at Leghorn, in 1845, and explained this by word of
mouth, modifying my expression, because dignity of name and years must
ever be respected by young men, and he being an Academician, might have
been offended by the harshness of my words on the classical style.
I will continue my examination of the naturalistic Neapolitan sculpture.
Signor Raffaele Belliazzi exhibited a group in plaster, representing
the Approach of a Storm, and a sleeping Calabrian, each the size of
life. In these works the artist shows a real sentiment for truth in the
expression of the woman holding the little girl firmly by the hand, both
of them with their heads bent down, eyes tightly shut to avoid the sand
that the wind is blowing with great force into their faces--their quick
step and close clinging garments blown about them, showing the violence
of the wind and approach of the storm. It is, if you will, a common
subject, not very attractive, and at best more suitable to be rendered
in small proportions than in life-size; for nothing that has great
movement and lightness of touch can well be reproduced in large size in
statuary. Now there is nothing more full of movement than clothes blown
about by the wind; the eye can hardly see them, much less retain an
impression of them, and therefore the artist is obliged rather to
indicate them as they possibly might be, than definitively or accurately
to reproduce them, as he should in a large work. I repeat, these
momentary impressions are excusable, and may even succeed in being
praiseworthy, if they limit themselves to expression in small figures
with rapid touches, after the manner of a sketch; but in great
dimensions they are not. The other work of Signor Belliazzi, "The
Sleeping Calabrian," is a very beautiful study from life, most accurate
and pleasing. Signor Belliazzi is of the naturalistic school; he loves
nature, but he does not feel, or does not care to devote his thought to,
what there is in nature of choice, attractive, and great, be it either
in conception or in form. It is, however, also true that neither of his
works can be put down as bad and ugly.
[Sidenote: WORKS OF SIGNOR BELLIAZZI.]
One who loves, feels, and reproduces nature with refinement and grace,
seems to me to be Signor Constantino Barbella, as it is shown in his
little _terra cotta_ group called "A Love Song." It consists of three
young girls singing as they walk along, their arms interlacing each
other. They are dressed in the rich and peculiar costume of the Abruzzi
mountains; and this dress on these figures, so young and so beautiful,
flexible and lifelike in their movement of walking, the joy expressed in
their faces for the charm and virtue of song, make an admirable
composition which one can look at with ever new pleasure. Here the small
size of the figures, and the material in which they are made, is all
forgotten, and it seems as if one could hear the song,--the very breath
and joy of those young girls. This peaceful work seems to be one of the
most beautiful of the Neapolitan naturalistic school, and in this
measure I like the naturalistic.
[Sidenote: NEAPOLITAN SCULPTURE.]
The study of nature, so felt and understood, draws the artist nearer to
the ideal conception--that is to say, to the reproduction of beautiful
nature in all its most varied forms; it opens the mind to ideas and
serious thoughts of loveliness and grace, for which Phidias, Giotto,
Orgagna, and Michael Angelo were celebrated, and will remain so to the
end of the world. The study of the material imitation of nature,
especially when it is defective and ugly in conception and form, besides
rendering these particular statues disagreeable, drives the artist away
from the ideal conception of monumental works, to which sculpture should
be specially devoted. The design for the monument to Salvator Rosa, the
work of Signor d'Orsi and Signor Franceschi, go to prove the truth of my
assertion.
These few words on Neapolitan sculpture are said to prove how much and
how far the naturalistic school is to be accepted; and I have selected
these examples because in them are demonstrated the power, audacity,
and error, as well as the beginning of a healthy and fruitful
innovation, provided it be upheld and sustained by the sentiment of the
beautiful.
[Sidenote: BELLINI.]
Delightful Naples, rich in vineyards and orange-trees, with her splendid
sky and enchanting sea, in which the city mirrors itself, and ever
rejoices and sings, recalls to my mind the beautiful school of Italian
melody of Scarlatti, Pergolesi, and Bellini. Bellini, a name beloved and
venerated by all who value beautiful melody--whose song is so passionate
and graceful, expressing in its suave sweetness passion and love, rage
and remorse, and creating dramatic situations from the very notes
themselves, more than from the words; Bellini, a master without pedantry
or artifice, clear without being common, profound without being
abstruse, and really of the future (because I believe that both thought
and ears will soon be tired of being obliged to listen too attentively
to catch, here and there, _rari nantes_ in _gurgite vasto_ some half
phrase obscure and _slegato_);--Bellini, I say, who is indeed a great
man, is soon to have a monument erected to him. This monument was to
have been made by me, and God only knows how willingly I would have
worked to have made a statue of that graceful and strong genius! That
work, however, has fallen into excellent hands; for Giulio Monteverde,
whom I love and esteem, is to be the fortunate artist.
But if I am glad that this important and most sympathetic work has
fallen into good hands, I am none the less sorry not to have it to do
myself, the more so that the way it was taken from me seems inexplicably
strange. This is how it was. Some years back I had a commission from
Marchese del Toscano, of Catania, to make the bust of the Maestro
Pacini. At that time I was also asked by the same Marchese, who was then
syndic of the town, if I would be willing to make a great monument to
Bellini, that the city and province proposed to put up to their great
fellow-townsman. Naturally I met such a request with pleasure, although
it was accompanied by considerations of economy that, whilst they were
not in the least to diminish the grandioseness of the monument, in view
of the place where it was to be erected, and the dignity of the subject,
led him to suppose (and in this the worthy gentleman was not mistaken)
that the artist would have to be discreet in his demands, so as to
facilitate the work of the organising committee. I answered as a
disinterested artist who was desirous of doing the work should. "Tell me
the sum at your disposal, indicate the size of the place where you wish
to erect the monument, and I shall make you a sketch for it which, I
hope, will give you satisfaction; for I shall not look in the least to
my interest, as this great man is so dear to me, and I highly approve
the idea you have had of doing him honour."
[Sidenote: THE MONUMENT TO BELLINI.]
In the meanwhile things proceeded very slowly; the sums of money
collected were not sufficient to make the monument of the proposed size,
and to this effect they wrote me after some time had passed; when at
last, one fine day, a letter arrived from the secretary of the
municipality, saying that the sum had been collected for the Bellini
monument, that the municipality intended at once to have the work begun,
and that, with this object in view, the syndic would soon forward the
order of the commission to me. Naturally, I looked for the letter from
the syndic, which did not keep me long waiting; but I leave it to the
reader to judge of.
The Marchese del Toscano was at that time no longer syndic of Catania,
and in his stead there was another, whose name I do not remember; for I
have the good fortune to forget the names of those who treat me badly,
and so bear them no resentment. I say this merely for the sake of truth,
that no one may suppose me possessed of a virtue that I have not. I have
read somewhere, but I do not remember where, that the person offended
engraves in porphyry the name of the offender, and the nature of the
offence; whilst on the other side it is but traced in the sand, that the
slightest breath of wind cancels. This may be true; but as regards me, I
must confess candidly that the very reverse occurs: and I thank God for
it, and so live on most happily, and my blood gains in colour and
vitality every day that I grow older.
[Sidenote: MONTEVERDE.]
Here is the sense, if not the very text, of the Signor Sindaco's letter:
"It is some days since my secretary wrote to you, to ask if you would
accept the order for Bellini's monument for this city. It must be
finished in eighteen months. Answer at once, for I have no time to lose,
and otherwise we shall appeal to Monteverde." One cannot deny that this
epistolary style is of an enviable brevity and clearness. I answered
that I had received the letter from the secretary, but as he had
announced to me that the syndic himself would write, I had waited for
this letter so as not to have to answer both, because I also had no time
to lose. I said that I could not accept under such close conditions, and
with such limited time; and as to appealing to Monteverde, he did well,
as he was a most talented artist, but I doubted whether even he could
accept for the same reason--want of time. Monteverde was given five
years' time, and the price increased not a little from what was proposed
to me. My best wishes to the artist are that he may be well inspired and
make an excellent work; that the good Catanese may have reason to be
satisfied with their way of proceeding; and that the monument to
Vincenzo Bellini may in its lines recall the passionate phrases of
melody of the divine master.
[Sidenote: THE END OF MY MEMOIRS.]
Here my memoirs come to an end. Those who have followed me with open
trusting minds, know me as if they had been with me from a child. They
know my humble origin; they remember my early years when I wandered here
and there with my father in search of work he found little of, and that
with difficulty; my attempts to study, to satisfy an inward yearning
that I knew not how to appease; the difficulties in my position of
satisfying that craving; the efforts that I made to content it, and the
dangers to which a quick nature abandoned to itself is exposed. They
have learnt how I chose for my companion a young girl as judicious and
good as she was gentle and beautiful, who was my providence and my
angel, the educator of the family, and an example of temperateness,
patience, and faith to me (who am so intolerant and easily angered), and
whose loss I feel even more heavily to-day, when I think that by God's
mercy I could now have made her life more peaceful and easy.
I wished to explain my principles on questions of art, on teaching, and
on the relations that the young artist has with his colleagues, with his
masters, and with his subjects. I wished to prove that justice and
temperance, in judging and sentencing works of art, are the foundation
of urbane and friendly artistic life.
INDEX.
Agostini, Raffaelo, 333.
Ala-Ponzoni, Marchese, 193 _et seq._
Alberti, Dr, 205, 362, 390.
Albertini, Augusta, of Verona, 386.
Aleardi, 161, 162, 377, 386.
Aloysio Juvara, Tommaso, 215, 243, 364.
Altamura, 368.
Amendola, Giov. Battista, 444.
Ammanati, Gaetano, 8.
Angelico, Fra Giovanni, 170.
Angelini, Cavaliere, 227, 368.
Angelo, Michael, 170.
Antoinetta, Princess, of Naples, 36.
Ara, Carlo, of Palermo, 141, _note_.
Arcangeli, Giuseppe, 139, 154.
Arese, Count, 197.
Arrivabene, Count, 307.
Augusta, Princess, 180.
Baccani, 26.
Baccio d'Agnolo, 181.
Balzico, the sculptor, 215, 227.
Barbella, Constantino, 447.
Barbetti, Angelo, 9.
Bardi, the rougher-out, 393.
Bargagli, Cavaliere Luigi, 208.
Barili, 181.
Bartolini, 66, 71, 79, 80, 96, 97, 99, 100, 106, 116, 117, 118,
119, 120, 132, 143, 144, 148, 157, 158, 184, 185, 186, 193, 261,
346, 349, 361, 441.
Barzellotti, Dr, 205.
Batelli, 331.
Bazzanti, 22.
Beauharnais, Prince, Viceroy of Italy, 112.
Becheroni, Enea, 89.
Belliazzi, Raffaele, 446.
Bellini, 449.
Bendini, Dr, 390.
Benericetti-Talenti, Giovanni, 261.
Benino, Count F. del, 107, 113, 114, 130.
Benvenuti, 66.
Benvenuti, Professor Pietro, 94, 96, 100, 104, 348.
Bernini, 260, 377.
Bertoli, 58.
Bezzuoli, Professor, 342, 348.
Biaggi, 414.
Bianchi, Carlo, 132.
Bianchi, Cavaliere Giulio, 199.
Bianchi, Laura, of Siena, 132, 446.
Bianchi, Luigi, 132.
Bianchini, Romualdo, 160.
Bianciardi, Bartolommeo, 21, 62, 100.
Bichi-Ruspoli, Marquis Alessandro, 133, 354, 435.
Bimboni, Giovacchino, 307.
Bini, Carlo, 315.
Bonaini, Commendatore Francesco, 372.
Bonghi, Ruggero, 240, 321, 413.
Boni, Dr Costantino, 118.
Borghese, Prince, 2.
Borghesi, Count Scipione, 133, 273.
Borghi, 154.
Borri, Cavaliere Raffaello, 393.
"Braccio di Ferro," 28 _et seq._
Breme, Marchese di, 373.
Brina, the model, 92, 94.
Brucciani, the caster, 280.
Brunellesco, 377.
Bulletti, the wood-carver, 307.
Buoncompagni, 273.
Buti, Ferdinando Filippi di, 374.
Byron's "Cain," 168.
Caggiano, Emanuele, 367.
Calamatta, 142, 143, 144, 145, 146.
Camaldoli, the Eremo of, 31.
Cambi, Professor Ulisse, 75, 76, 80, 81, 83, 97, 276, 325.
Camerini, Count Luigi, 424.
Camerini, Duke Silvestro, 423 _et seq._
Canini, a gilder, 4.
Canova, 150, 244, 349, 417.
Capponi, Marquis, 164, 167, 378, 411.
Caracci, the, 377.
Carnevali, Clementina, 134.
Cartei, 276.
Caselli, Ludovico, 83, 84, 85.
Cassioli, 190.
Castellani of Rome, 406.
Cavalieri, Angelo, of Trieste, 141, _note_.
Ceccon, Professor Luigi, 426.
Celentano, 364.
Cellini, Benvenuto, 79.
Ceppi, Professor, 375.
Chiarini, "Baco," 161, 162 _et seq._
Chiarini, Giovanni, 139.
Ciacchi, cabinet-maker, 182.
Ciardi, Cavaliere Antonio, 350, 388.
Cimabue, 169.
Cipolla, Professor, 380.
Ciseri, Antonio, 160, 162, 190, 435.
Coletti, physician and poet, 161.
Constantine, Grand Duke, of Russia, 379.
Constantine, Prince, of Russia, 153.
Conti, Augusto, 326, 431, 434.
Coppino, Professor Michele, 384.
Correggio, 377.
Corsi, Cardinal, 399 _et seq._
Corsini, 90.
Corsini, Amerigo, 198.
Corsini, Prince Andrea, 198, 272.
Costa, Pietro, 331.
Costoli, Aristodemo, 94, 117, 199.
Crawford, Lord, 208, 281.
Dall'Ongaro, Professor, 320.
D'Ancona, Commendatore, 320.
Danielli, Signor, 433.
Dante, 141, 377, 409.
David, the painter, 245.
Dei, Professor, 9.
Della Gherardasca, Lady Emilia, 157.
Della Porta, Count Carlo, 133.
Della Robbia, Luca, 181, 203.
Del Monte, Marchese Luca Bourbon, 338.
Del Monte, Marchese Pompeo Bourbon, 438.
Del Punta, Luigi, 205 _et seq._
Del Toscano, Marchese, 449 _et seq._
Del Sarto, the engineer, 130, 131.
Demidoff, Princess Matilde, 148 _et seq._, 153, 200.
Demidoff, Prince Anatolio, 148 _et seq._, 193 _et seq._, 313 _et seq._
Donatello, 170, 233.
Donati, Professor G. B., 130.
Doney, 112, 446.
Don Sebastian, Prince, 237.
Duprè, Amalia, 209, 331 _et seq._, 350, 374, 391.
Duprè, Atanasio, 30.
Duprè, Beppina, 209, 334, 350.
Duprè, Clementina, 3, 14.
Duprè, Emilia, 209.
Duprè, Francesco, 2, 3 _et seq._, 5 _et seq._, 25, 32, 323, 324.
Duprè, Giovanni, 54, 93, 128, 150, 167, 178, 187, 228, 313 _et
seq._ _passim._
Duprè, Lorenzo (brother of Giovanni Duprè), 3, 14, 156, 183 _et seq._
Duprè, Lorenzo (grandfather of Giovanni Duprè), 2.
Duprè, Luisina, 189, 209, 350, 370, 388 _et seq._, 412.
Duprè, Maddalena, 3, 14.
Emmanuel, King Victor, 372, 438.
Fabris, Emilio de, 26, 347, 431.
Fanfani, Paolo, 100, 182.
Favard, Baroness, 50, 436.
Fedi, 278, 307, 368.
Fenzi, Carlo, 177, 185.
Fenzi, Orazio, 69, 157.
Fenzi, Priore Emanuel, 69, 157, 184.
Ferrari, Count Corbelli, 325.
Filippi di Buti, Ferdinando, 374, 433, 435.
Fiorelli, Commendatore, 368.
Floridi, the draughtsman, 142, 144.
Folchi, Ferdinand, 100.
Fraccaroli, Professor Innocenzo, 374.
Franceschi, Signor, 448.
Francesco, Prince, of Naples, 180.
Franchi, 190.
Fusinato, 161.
Galeotti, Maria, 408.
Galeotti, the advocate, 140.
Gargiolli, Girolamo, 139.
Garibaldi, 421.
Gatti, Angiolo, 326.
Gatti, Annibale, 436.
Gerini, Marchese, 177.
Ghiberti, 15, 377.
Giganti, the water-colourist, 215, 227.
Giotto, 169, 170.
Giusti, the poet, 139, 140, 141, 167, 292 _et seq._
Giusti, Ulisse, 100.
Gordigiani, 192.
Gori, Count Augusto dei, 133, 257.
Gozzini, Doctor, 49.
Gualterio, Filippo, 257, 273, 373.
Guasti, Cesare, 411.
Guerrazzi, 164, 179.
Guicciardini, Count Piero, 307.
Guillaume, 432.
Haynau, Marshal, 339 _et seq._
Ingres, 191.
Isabella, Princess, 180.
Isabella, Queen, 236.
La Farina, 139, 140, 159.
Lajatico, Marquis, 273.
Lambruschini, Raffaello, 411.
Lelli, the caster, 100.
Leonardo, 170, 191, 377.
Leopold II., Grand Duke, 36, 147, 205, 236.
Leopold, King, 276.
Letizia, Madame, 150.
Leuchtenberg, Prince of, 111, 112, 175.
Limberti, Archbishop Giovacchino, 394.
Lippi, 170.
Liverani, Tonino, "Tria," 186 _et seq._, 371.
Lombardi, Victoria, 2.
Loredan, 228.
Lucca, Blosi di, 192.
Luigi, di, 172.
Luitpoldo, Prince, 201.
Lusini, Giovanni, 89.
Macartney, Mrs Letitia, 126, 127 _et seq._
Maccari, 190.
Maffei, Andrea, 167, 168.
Magagnini, 30.
Magi, Luigi, 60, 63, 64, 65, 66, 68, 70, 71, 73, 75, 96.
Magni, 368, 441.
Majoli, Luigi, 160, 178, 205, 348, 366, _note_.
Maldarelli, 364.
Manara, 167.
Mancinelli, Giuseppe, 215, 227, 363, 364, 370.
Manetti, Antonio, 9.
Mantegna, 310.
Manzoni, 167, 377.
Maranghi, Gabriello, 323.
Marchesini, Signora, 229.
Maria Antoinetta, Grand Duchess, 36, 131, 200.
Maria Carolina, Grand Duchess, 272.
Maria, Grand Duchess, of Russia, 111, 166, 175.
Mariani, 247, 413.
Marina, 39 _et seq._, 41, 43, 44, 53, 59, 60 _et seq._, 63, 65,
77, 106, 110, 156, 177, 182, 225, 230, 350, 393.
Mariotti, Lorenzo, 111, 113, 173, 313.
Martelli, Professor Giuseppe, 69.
Martellini, Professor Gaspero, 20.
Marrocchetti, 282 _et seq._
Masaccio, 170.
Mauri, Senatore Achilli, 423.
Mayer, Enrico, 139.
Mazzoni, Stefano, 5.
Meissonnier, 432.
Menzicoff, General, 174.
Minardi, 246, 247.
Moisè, Filippo, 139.
Montalvo, Ramirez di, 101, 102, 104, 105.
Montanelli, Professor Giuseppe, 307.
Montazio, 139, 140.
Monteverde, 419, 449, 451.
Mordini, Antonio, 159.
Morelli, 364, 368.
Morelli, Domenico, 406.
Mussini, Luigi, 190 _et seq._, 192, 348, 366, 413, 435.
Muzzi, 141, _note_.
Napoleon I., 31, 99, 112, 142, 297, 318, 349.
Niccolini, Giovanni Battista, 71, 139, 140, 167.
Nicholas, Emperor of Russia, 153, 166, 173 _et seq._
Nicolaiewna, Maria, 175.
Nigra, the minister, 153.
Norfini, 192.
Nuovo, Berio, 233.
Orgagna, 377, 448.
Orlandini, F. S., 139.
Orloff, Count, 174.
Overbeck, 191, 246, 247.
Pacetti, Brothers, 66, 76, 77, 78, 79.
Pacetti, Tonino, 76.
Palizzi, 364, 368, 413.
Pallavicini, Count Antonio, 409, 429.
Pampaloni, Professor, 83, 106, 348.
Papi, Professor Clemente, 131, 160, 261, 287, 293 _et seq._,
338.
Parenti, carpet-manufacturer, 14.
Patti, Adelina, 432.
Pazzi, Enrico, 160, 178, 205, 348, 411.
Peruzzi, Ubaldino, 179, 431.
Petrai, Antonio, 101, 112, 129.
Phidias, 117, 191, 241, 253, 377, 448.
Piatti, Giulio, 162, 168.
Piccolomini, Signora, 307.
Pieraccini, Luigi, 8.
Pini, Carlo, 9.
Pius IX., 337, 434, 438 _et seq._
Poccianti, Professor, 261.
Podesta, the painter, 299.
Poggi, Michele, 100.
Poggi, Professor Commendatore Giuseppe, 107, 429, 436.
Poldi, Marchioness, of Milan, 79, 80.
Pollastrini, Enrico, 191.
Poniatowsky, Prince Joseph, 324.
Pradier, 285.
Prati, 161, 162, 163, 164.
Puccini, Cavaliere Nicolô, 396 _et seq._
Quieroli, 234.
Raphael, 170, 191, 240, 302 _et seq._, 309, 328, 377.
Rauch, 265 _et seq._, 349 _et seq._
Regina, 42, 43, 45, 53, 59.
Renard, engineer, 177.
Reni, Guido, 377.
Riboisière, Madame de la, 285.
Ricasoli, Beltino, 411.
Ricci, Stefano, sculptor, 116, 121.
Ricciardelli, 30.
Ristori, Signora, 307 _et seq._
Rivalta, Augusto, 345 _et seq._
Romoli, 307.
Rossini, 146, 171, 172, 377, 406.
Rossini, Signora Olimpia, 171.
Sabatelli, Professor, 63, 348.
Sabatelli, Professor Giuseppe, 94, 99, 106.
Saladini, 36, 37 _et seq._
Saltini, Dr Giuseppe, 161, 177.
Sanesi, 100.
Sani, Luigi, 20, 62, 77.
Sani, Paolo, 2, 8, 13, 16, 19, 35, 68 _et seq._, 76, 157, 182.
Santarelli, Professor Emilio, 94, 106.
Saracini, Cavaliere Alessandro, 133.
Sarrocchi, Tito, 160, 177, 208, 330, 348, 367.
Savonarola, Frate Girolamo, 410 _et seq._
Sclopis, Count Federigo, 381.
Selvatico, Pietro, 258.
Serristori, Governor of Siena, 126.
Sferra, Antonio, 94.
Sighinolfi, Cesare, 397 _et seq._
Sloane, Cavaliere, 330.
Smargiassi, Professor, 215 _et seq._, 227.
Spence, William, 277, 279, 288.
Strazza, Giovanni, 367.
Talleyrand, Duke, 424.
Tartaglia, Professor, 216.
Tasso, the carver, 78, 79, 80.
Tasso, Torquato, 213, 214.
Tenerani, 143, 246, 370.
Thorwaldsen, 446.
Thouar, 139, 140.
Tommaseo, Niccolò, 411.
Tommasi, Signor, of Leghorn, 153.
Travalloni, the engraver, 137.
Troubetzkoi, Princess, 424.
Uccelli, Fabio, 307.
Ussi, Professor, 406.
Uzielli, Sansone, of Leghorn, 201.
Vannucci, Atto, 139.
Varesi, Signora, 172.
Varni, Professor Santo, 374.
Vela, 197, 368, 374, 380 _et seq._, 404 _et seq._, 419, 441.
Venturi, Luigi, 147, 156, 180, 182, 190, 205, 207, 213, 262,
431.
Verdi, Giuseppe, 166 _et seq._, 171, 202.
Vincenzi, de, 307.
Visconti, 190, 365 _et seq._
Vonwiller, Signor, 368.
Vulpes, Professor, 215.
Wagner, 420.
Wellington, Duke of, 275 _et seq._
Wolf, the sculptor, 349, 370.
Zannetti, Professor, 198.
Zocchi, Emilio, of Florence, 330, 334.
Zotti, Ignazio, 133 _et seq._
THE END.
PRINTED BY WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS.
* * * * *
Transcriber's Notes:
Some minor obvious typographical errors have been corrected
silently.
All quotation marks left as per original, except for those
listed below.
Footnotes have been moved to underneath the paragraph they refer
to so as to not disrupt the flow of the text.
The headings that appeared at the top of each page in the
original publication and have been treated as sidenotes and
moved to above the paragraph they refer to so as not to disrupt
the flow of the text.
Corrections made:
Pg. 153: "After Pius II. [added comma]"
Pg. 179: "in the railway-carriages. Guerazzi [replaced with
"Guerrazzi"]"
Pg. 238: "they are presenting arms. [added doublequote mark]"
Pg. 310: "the "Triumph of Caesar." Mantegua [replaced with
"Mantegna"],"
Pg. 324: "I will get out and go home. [added doublequote mark]"
Pg. 444: "drowse on a _trichinium_ [replaced with
"triclinium"]"
The following names appearing in the index have been changed to match
the spelling appearing in the text:
Pg. 454: "Della Gherardasca [replaced with "Gherardesca"], Lady
Emilia"
Pg. 454: "Fraccaroli, Professor Innocenzi [replaced with
"Innocenzo"]"
Pg. 454: "Gatti, Anjiolo [replaced with "Angiolo"]"
Pg. 455: "Masacio [replaced with "Masaccio"], 170."
Pg. 455: "Meisonnier [replaced with "Meissonnier"], 432."
Pg. 455: "Puccini, Cavaliere Nicolo [replaced with "Nicolô"]"
Multiple versions of the same name appear and have not been changed:
The Grand Duchess "Marie Antoinetta", "Maria Antoinetta", "Maria
Antonietta"
Lampeggi, Lappegi
Andrea Pisani, Andrea Pisano
Schiller Platz, Schillerplatz
San Niccolo, San Niccolò
Sienese, Siennese
Ciseri, Cisere
Both versions of the following words appear in the text:
buttonhole, button-hole
nicknamed, nick-named
storehouse, store-house