"O Rome, Mistress of the world,
red with the blood or martyrs,
white with the innocence of virgins,
we salute and bless thee in all ages, and forever."
The first real stopping-place Robert made under the cloudless sky of Italy
was at Milan, and its magnificent cathedral was the first place visited.
This church, after St. Peter's at Rome, is the finest in Italy, and is
built of pure white marble. There are few Gothic edifices so rich in
ornament, or of so light and airy an appearance. His next visit was to one
of the old Dominican convents, named Sainte Marie des Graces, where he saw
"The Last Supper" of Leonardo da Vinci, one of the great Italian painters
and the _protégé_ of François I.
The ancient capital of Lombardy does not present a very agreeable
appearance, notwithstanding its numerous palaces, which is owing to the
arrangement of the streets, which are so long and narrow that nothing shows
its real magnificence, not even the cathedral. The memory of Eugene
Beauharnais is always dear here, where as the delegate of Napoleon he
exercised sovereign power, and Robert saw with pleasure that the glory and
benefits of the one and the wise conduct of the other were not effaced from
the hearts of the Milanese. From Milan he went to Parma, where he saw a
number of choice paintings by Correggio, Lanfranc, and Mazzola, and at the
cathedral the magnificent fresco of the Assumption; at the church of Saint
Sepulchre, the Madonna and Child. He also visited the Farnese gallery, and
the tomb of this family in the church of the Madonna Steceata. From Parma
he went to Genoa, surnamed the superb. This rich city is the rival of
Venice, and is proud of her antiquities, and the power she has always held
on the seas. She has almost entire the schools of Michael Angelo and
Bernini, and has a prodigious number of paintings and sculptures. Thus was
Robert obliged at each step to stop and pay his tribute of admiration to
what be saw. And Genoa has produced so many distinguished artists that for
a long time science and art have flourished there and acquired a high
degree of renown. Robert passed three months of study there, which was
longer than he intended, as he was burning with a desire to get to Rome,
for it was there that he intended seriously to open his studies, but he
could not resist the charm which held him in first one, then another place.
From Genoa he sailed for Leghorn, and from there to Florence, which all
travellers unite in considering one of the most beautiful of Italian
cities. It is situated at the foot of the Apennines, and the number of its
gardens and their beauty, its public squares, ornamented with fountains and
statues, the shores of the Arno, with their charming quays, and the
grandeur of the palaces, designed and embellished by Sanzio and Buonarroti,
its smiling suburbs, and the brilliant titles of its citizens, combine to
make it a most attractive place. Its largest gallery was commenced by
Cardinal Leopold de Medicis, and is built in two parallel galleries, and at
their end a third is placed, which stands on the right bank of the Arno.
Here are classed in perfect order the master works of modern art.
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If the name of Medicis has odious remembrances in France since the massacre
of Saint Bartholomew, it is not so in Florence or any part of Italy; on the
contrary, it recalls there all that is most dazzling and generous in
literature, art, and science. Talent always finds an asylum and a welcome
in Florence, and Robert was favorably received by the persons to whom he
had been recommended by his master, who, more for his genuine affection for
him than for the honor of having such a pupil, had given him letters to men
of high positions. What could be a more powerful stimulant for him than the
flattering encouragement he received from persons of known taste and hearty
appreciation? Believing that nothing that we wish to accomplish is
impossible, Robert, with increased passion for his art, studied the old
masters with determined energy, though never daring to hope he could
approach their perfection. Mediocrity is always vain and boastful, while
true merit is modest and mistrustful, and this was why Robert was ignorant
of his wonderful talent. He left Florence with many regrets both as a man
and an artist, but Rome was the crowning glory of his ambition, and he must
go on. In passing through the gates of the sacred city be felt an emotion
that it would be impossible to express; for the soul of the artist and the
Christian were equally moved, and in his enthusiasm he cried with Tasso:
"It is not to thy proud columns, thy arches of triumph, or thy baths, that
I come to render homage; it is to the blood of martyrs shed for Christ on
this consecrated ground!" At last he was really in Rome, whose walls
enclose so many scattered leaves of the history of all nations, and the
very name of which fills us with reverence. On the mutilated fragments here
and there, and on the wrecks of past greatness, the artist deplored the too
short duration of all earthly things, but the Christian reads there a
salutary lesson which told of the early and of worldly joys. In this grand
old city he settled himself and commenced to work, giving himself up with
ardor to composition as the highest and truest art. In the beginning his
ideas were not truly expressed, but still his pictures were full of talent.
He preferred working at home and did not often go to the academy, but was
aided in his studies by the advice of artists and connoisseurs. After a few
years he composed works of wonderful power, and his genius seemed to take
every turn; sometimes his conceptions were noble and sublime, then, again,
delicate and tender, every passion being rendered with fidelity. As he
became conscious of his rapid progress, the more his desire to find his
father tormented him. It was not a sentiment of pride, still less of
vengence, that made him wish it; it was the need he felt of a heart that
responded to his own. It was the voice of nature crying unto him, "Thou
hast a father; he lives, and thou dost not know him; search for him, and
throw at his feet thy love and talent; speak to him of thy mother! See the
task which is thine, now that thou art worthy of the name thou bearest."
The young painter was admitted into many distinguished houses, and learned
of his father, but could obtain no information which would put him on his
track; yet he buoyed himself up with the uncertain hope that he might meet
him in this city of repose and resignation. It is a place of sweet sojourn
for those whose fortunes are cast down, and a dear asylum for troubled
souls, the end of the artist's pilgrimage as well as that of the invalid,
the tourist, and the savant. There all misfortunes are respected and all
sufferings are consoled; and it is possible that the Count de Verceuil had
been overtaken by some of the sorrows from which no one in this world is
exempt; and surely he could not flatter himself that he would pass through
life without the chastisement that falls on the heads of the guilty! God's
patience is long-suffering, but sometimes his anger falls with a sudden
blow on the hardened sinner, and makes him cry for pardon.
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The impressions made upon Robert in this city of majestic ruins and antique
monuments, and where the arts speak so noble a language, could not be other
than exalted and religious. Before so many wrecks the soul is predisposed
to pity all things here below; the projects we nourish appear so puerile,
we conceive another glory and adore God and his imperishable glory. Faith
gives to man a moment of calm in every trial, and opens to him the doors of
a blissful eternity. These stones cry aloud to all, "Passing away!" but it
is in a consoling and solemn accent, and brings down all our pity upon the
worldlings who have forgotten Jesus our divine Master, who said, "Heaven
and earth may pass away, but my words will never pass away." With the
exactitude with which he always fulfilled his promises, he knew that the
time for his return to France was drawing near, and that there were two
persons there who counted with sorrow the days which were passed far from
him. He was not ignorant of the fact that time hung heavily upon these poor
old people, and that it was difficult for them to support the long hours.
The remembrance of these friends followed him everywhere; they were near
him in his excursions through Rome, at the Colosseum, at the Capitol; day
and night he found them in his thoughts and his heart, and knew that they
were impatient for his return, and would amply repay him for the regrets he
would leave behind; and as he wished to visit Venice and remain there some
time, he bade farewell to the ancient city of the Senate of the Caesars,
now the residence of the Pope and the seat of the church militant. From
there he goes to Venice, the queen of the Adriatic. From a distance,
resting tranquilly on the surface of the sea, it resembles a number of
vessels with countless masts, but on a nearer approach the charm is broken,
and it stands boldly above the waves, revealing its wonderful beauty to the
astonished eye of the traveller. Formed of more than sixty small islands,
Venice is interspersed with canals without number, the largest of which is
in the form of an S, and divides the city into two nearly equal parts.
Everything in it has an original character, and silence reigns supreme over
the city; no vehicles, and no pavements for them to rattle on, and the
population, not being an industrious or commercial people, have nothing to
make a noise at. But the great charm to Robert was in the magnificent
palaces, nearly all of which were built by the great artists of Italy; and
the churches, rich in pictures, frescoes, statues, and bas-reliefs,
together with marble columns of rare workmanship. Before commencing his
studies he visited the principal buildings, the church of St. Mark, on the
front of which are four bronze horses, attributed to the celebrated
sculptor Lysippus; then to the ancient palace of the doge, and to see the
subterranean vaults, which are separated from the palace by the Bridge of
Sighs, and then to the Arsenal, which occupies an island almost a league in
circumference. This edifice is a citadel surrounded by high ramparts, and
guarding its entrance are two colossal antique lions brought from Athens
and Corinth. After seeing the city Robert renewed his favorite occupations,
and, as in Florence and Rome, was inspired by the models in the Venetian
galleries. Milan, Parma, Genoa, Florence, Rome, and Venice he had seen in
turn, and they had each opened to him their treasures and their teachings.
There was not a master the secret of whose genius he had not sought to
discover; there was not one of his works he had not studied in its minutest
details. Thus the object of his journey was attained, and his talent was
ripened under the generous sun of Italy. He could now go home and
consecrate the knowledge he had obtained to the glory of his art. "Only
fourteen days," he said to himself, "before I set out for France." But
_the_ event of the year was coming on, the general confusion of which
inspires the goddess Folly, and makes her ring her bells more noisily.
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It puts every one in a complete vertigo, in which they think of nothing but
giddy pleasure and dancing and feasting. There is not a village which does
not take part in the rejoicings of the carnival, and it was something so
new to Robert, that he could not return to Paris without seeing and taking
part in it, an excusable curiosity in one of his age, and we will follow in
the train of this festive season, which animates everything.