THE “PONTE MOLLE” CLUB--TECHNICAL ALPHABET--MOCCOLETTI--THE
BLACK BOARD--ELECTION OF CANDIDATES--THE ILLUSTRATED
CHORUS--HARMONIES--CHANGE OF DOMICILE--THE VIA SISTINA--THE
PINCIAN PROMENADE--TRASTEVERINI--THE FRENCH ACADEMY--HIGH ART
AND ITS VOTARIES--ROMAN MODELS--PIFFERARI--PIETRO POMBO--THE VIA
MARGUTTA--L---- AND HIS PAINTING--EXTRAORDINARY MODEL--PICTURES AND
STUDIOS.
Connected with the Cervaro Fest, is a humorous artistical club[20]
called the “_Ponte Molle_,” which also owes its origin to the Germans.
The weekly meetings of this Roman society of odd-fellows, are held in
the Palazzo Fiano, at the rear of the “Belli Arti” coffee-house in the
Corso, and are of so curious a nature, that although I cannot hope to
do them justice, I shall not be satisfied to let them go in silence. I
also presume that as I know but little of the rules or regulations by
which the club is governed, I can reveal nothing which may not be given
to the public. I was introduced by an English artist, on an occasion
when two candidates were to be initiated, and on entering a large room
on the first floor, found myself in the presence of a hundred or more
people of all countries, chiefly, if not entirely, artists, who seemed
by the remains still scattered before them, to have just finished their
supper. The tables were laid out round three sides of the room in the
form of the letter _E_, the chairman’s seat being filled by Herr ----,
the president of the late Cervaro: before him lay an auctioneer’s
hammer, and a gigantic speaking trumpet, whilst behind, upon the wall,
there hung a large black board.
We had no sooner taken our seats, and called for some sort of
refreshment, than an individual on the right of the chair, nearly
deafened us by an announcement in German, which he bellowed through
the trumpet, to the effect that some ceremony was about to take
place, and on looking towards the chairman, I found that he held in
his hand an enormous illustrated alphabet, of which the first page
presented a coloured sketch, bearing allusion to the letters, great
_A_ and little _a_, printed in large characters underneath. This
exhibition was accompanied by a German rhyme, chanted by the company
in chorus, each man standing on his chair, whilst the whole of the
alphabet was expounded.[21] Then some one distributed to each person
present, about four or five inches of wax taper, or _moccoletti_, and
with these was also handed round a printed song. At a sign from the
chairman, the tapers were ignited, each individual tied his napkin
round his head, and forming into single file, promenaded around the
room, singing in unison a melody written in honour of the “Ponte
Molle.” The _moccoletti_ seemed of service in enhancing the _outrè_
appearance of such as aimed at making themselves as ridiculous as
possible, for I noticed one tall fellow with a row of a dozen or more
stuck round the brim of his sombrero, whilst another had attached a
piece to the end of his nose. At the conclusion of the recitation,
we resumed our places, and the wine bottles being replenished, the
chairman and others sung a few songs, whilst preparations were making
for the election of the two fresh candidates, who were shortly ushered
in amid a deafening shout of applause, and stationed under the ominous
black board before alluded to. The only qualification, which to me as
a stranger, appeared necessary to ensure admission to the club, was
that of being able happily to illustrate upon the board, the solution
of some knotty enigmatical query, propounded by the chairman. If an
architect or painter, the candidate would be required to sketch some
device appertaining to his art, whilst a sculptor would be expected
to exercise his skill upon a lump of wet clay, from which he would
probably produce some grotesque figure that would set the room in a
roar. Be this as it may, the parties on the present occasion, receiving
at the hands of the president, the decoration of the order of the
Bajocco,[22] were declared amid much laughter, to have acquitted
themselves to the satisfaction of their judges, and to have “_passed
the Ponte Molle_,” and then, the hieroglyphs having been obliterated,
another part of the evening’s performance was gone through, which I
was enabled more readily to understand, and will, therefore, endeavour
to describe. The chief performer therein, was as usual the chairman.
Marking upon the board with chalk, a short line, thus ----, he
inquired--
“Ist das nicht der kürz ünd lang?”
to which all responded,--
“Ya! das ist der kürz ünd lang.”
Then adding a second line, his diagram assumed this form
----/--, with the query.
“Ist das nicht ein Schnitzelbang?”
(Tutti.) “Ya! das ist ein Schnitzelbang!”
(Chorus.) “Schnitzelbang, kürz ünd lang
Eine Schöne, eine schöne
Eine Schöne Schnitzelbang.”
Then again with the chalk
“Ist das nicht der Ponte Molle?”
(Tutti.) “Ya! das ist der Ponte Molle!”
Adding some dots thus:
“Ist es nicht so gar zü volle?”
(Tutti.) “Ya! es ist so gar zü volle!”
(Chorus.) “Ponte Molle, gar zü volle”
“Schnitzelbang, kürz ünd lang”
“Eine Schöne, &c.”
Then a little mountain, thus:
“Ist das nicht der Monte Cavo?”
(Tutti.) “Ya! das ist der Monte Cavo!”
Adding a little figure on one side of it
“Ist das nicht der kleine ‘Bravo?’”[23]
(Tutti.) “Ya! das ist der kleine ‘Bravo!’”
(Chorus.) “Monte Cavo, kleine Bravo”
“Ponte Molle, gar zü volle”
“Schnitzelbang, kürz ünd lang”
“Eine schöne,” &c.
Then a little figure with a cocked hat:
“Ist das nicht Napoleon?”
(Tutti.) “Ya! das ist Napoleon!”
followed by a few strokes in his rear, intended to represent a city,
though they were quite as much like an old comb:
“Der bei Leipsig laüft davon!”
(Tutti.) “Der bei Leipsig laüft davon!”
(Chorus.) “Napoleon, laüft davon”
“Monte Cavo, kleine Bravo”
“Ponte Molle, gar zü volle”
“Schnitzelbang, kürz ünd lang”
“Eine schöne, eine schöne”
“Eine schöne Schnitzelbang.”
and so on through a variety of similar illustrations, like a
modification of “The house that Jack built,” until he had well nigh
filled his board. These over, the chairman divested himself of a
rat-catcher looking belt which he had worn throughout the evening, and
giving a lusty tap upon the table with his hammer, knocked himself
down for a song, of which he also acquitted himself admirably. Several
others followed, one gentleman, a Swiss, favouring us with a genuine
Vaterlander, in which the beautiful _jodeln_ was charmingly introduced.
On the whole, the harmonic portion of the Ponte Molle was by far the
most gratifying, and I departed with my friend, much amused with what I
had seen and heard, although almost at a loss to comprehend any portion
of the evening’s exhibition.
[Illustration: ARTISTS ON THE PINCIAN.]
Being most anxious to quit the comfortless four-pair-back of the
“Hotel Cesarj,” I consulted with my friend Savill, and by him was
recommended to some rooms in the Via Sistina, an airy street, near the
Trinità de’ Monti, at one end of the Pincian hill. This neighbourhood
had been chosen by Nicholas Poussin, whose house was next door to my
new quarters, whilst that once occupied by Claude, was immediately
opposite to me. Finding the apartment vacant, I engaged it forthwith,
and my padrone undertook to get some old woman to make my bed, and
bring me every morning a jug of hot water. The rooms proved very
comfortable and sufficiently quiet, and I had moreover, the advantage
of a shady garden, overlooking the street. Close to me on the right,
was the Church of the Trinità de’ Monti, which contains the wonderful
frescoes by Daniello of Volterra. A few minutes’ walk further on, would
bring me to the Pincian, the favourite promenade of the Romans, who
ride and drive round it in their badly-varnished, heavy carriages,
with an assumption of _ton_, which often amuses their visitors. Here,
however, there is no veto against hackney carriages, and the bracing
air and fine prospects of the Monte Pincio, are common to the patrician
and the _basso-ceto_. On Sundays the place is thronged with pedestrians
of all classes. Groups of Trasteverini, the proud descendants of the
ancient Romans, then venture hither, in their sky-blue pantaloons and
short jackets, with low crowned white hats of the very longest nap.
Their lasses accompany them, dressed in gowns of the gayest hues, their
long hair plaited into all sorts of shapes, and secured by the silver
spadino, sometimes a much less innocent instrument in the hands of the
hot-blooded maidens of Rome.[24] These are attracted to the Pincian
solely by the desire of seeing and being seen--their haunt after mass
on the Sabbath being the Osterie, outside the gates of the city, where
they will spend the whole day in dancing, and regale themselves on sour
wine and uncooked ham.
On the Pincio stands the French Academy, whose beautiful gardens,
replete with statues, fountains, and shady _boschetti_, are the delight
of all romantic dispositions. From hence the eye ranges over the
extensive grounds of the Borghese and Poniatowski, dotted here and
there by an occasional villa, and thickly wooded with stone-pine and
cypress, whilst the distance embraces views of the Soracte and Velino,
and the broken range of the Sabine mountains.
I had now made the acquaintance of many artists, chiefly through the
kind introductions of Bellamy and Savill, and began to feel an interest
in the sublime arts, of which, until now, I had scarce believed myself
capable. A great deal of my time was spent in their studii, or at the
various galleries in their company, on which occasions, I was forced
into the hearing of so many arguments and disquisitions upon “high
art,” and “art” in all its ramifications, that I was at last fairly
compelled to take up the pencil in self-defence; and the resolution
was no sooner formed and expressed, than I got the offer of a table
in the studio of a friend, and what was of far greater value to me,
the opportunity of benefiting by his advice, during certain initiatory
studies. Poor R----, who was so shortly afterwards taken away from
us, will be in the remembrance of all who knew Rome and its English
artists at the time of which I write. His career, though short, was
a sufficiently brilliant one, the productions of his pencil being
justly admired, and had he been spared, there can be little doubt, but
that he would have risen to eminence in the profession. He it was who
undertook, with the kindness for which he was remarkable, to guide my
unpractised hand through the tedious routine of a commencement in what
was to me almost a fresh career; and though at the time I frequently
chafed at the monotonous detail it was necessary to wade through, I am
satisfied that the system was a sound one, and ultimately repaid me the
trouble.
As R---- mostly chose for his pictures, such subjects as were
illustrative of the manners of the Roman peasantry, I had frequent
opportunities of drawing from the best models. Grazia, Chiaruccia, and
the Pifferari were among those who most suited his peculiar style, and
as they were always willing to talk as long as we would sit to hear
them, I soon picked up a tolerable smattering of Italian. The faces of
these and other Roman models, must be familiar to most who frequent
our modern galleries and exhibitions, and although the likeness may
not in all cases be preserved, some one or other of their peculiar
attributes is sure to reveal them to the practised eye. Who is there,
for instance, that cannot claim acquaintance with the old _Pifferaro_,
in the conical hat, and long white beard, whose face and figure have
been made to play upon canvas nearly every rôle in the vocabulary. In
one and the same apartment of a recent exhibition, I have seen that old
man, jerking his bellows before a Madonna, and assisting his brother
bandits to rifle a travelling carriage in the Pontine Marsh--casting
his net into the Sea of Galilee, and playing at _Morra_ in the
Trastevere!
[Illustration]
Perhaps the most amusing of the models, was Pietro Pombo, who made his
appearance with his brother _Pifferari_ on the steps of the Scalinata,
about the beginning of Advent, staying until Christmas was over. Much
of this man’s time was passed in sitting for my friend, who constantly
employed him as a costume model, and Pombo was so tenacious of what he
considered to be his own exclusive right in this respect, that few of
the other Pifferari cared to interfere with him. “Io zono il modello
del Zignorrr,” was his usual asseveration, when any of his brethren
attempted to solicit a few hours’ employment. At eight in the morning,
or thereabouts, he would make his appearance at the studio in the
Via Margutta, saluting us in a voice of the most ultra-mountainous
roughness. “Buon giorno, loro Zignorrr Mossieu,” and then introduce his
little boy and inform us of the state of his health, “Bambino mio, zi
Zignorr: zempre meglio, zempre meglio, zalute mia: zi Zignorrr!” K. an
English artist, having sent for him one morning, and not happening to
be quite ready to commence, motioned him to a seat at the far end of
the room, to wait until he had put a few last touches to some sketch he
was finishing. On looking up a few minutes after, he was thunderstruck
on perceiving Pietro Pombo, and his minute fac-simile, the _Bambino_,
who had divested themselves of their nether garments, fleaing them
with the most impurturbable gravity and assurance. K. was too much
amused to disturb them, but could no longer restrain himself, when the
Pifferaro continued his toilet, by emptying a small bottle of drying
oil on his black and matted locks, by way of Macassar.
[Illustration]
The house next door to R----’s, in the Via Margutta, is famous as the
birth-place of a picture which made a good deal of noise in the world.
The particulars I had from an Italian acquaintance, and although it is
possible he may have been _generally_ correct, I will not vouch for the
accuracy of the detail. The painting in question was the production of
Mr. L----, one of the first English artists who took up his abode in
Rome after the Peace, and was at first a simple picture, representing
Joseph and the Virgin. By degrees, however, it became more and more
allegorical, until its original dimensions were found insufficient,
and fresh canvas was added from time to time. L---- now discovered
that the dimensions of his studio forbade the further enlargement of
his subject, inasmuch as they did not keep pace with the development
of his intellectual vagaries, and a proposal was therefore submitted
to the landlord to raise the roof of the house, which was politely
declined. An appeal to sink the floor met with better success, and
now the picture assumed a colossal form; the _padrone_, who had been
admitted to L----’s confidence, and was the only person who had seen
it, declaring it to be _una cosa stupenda_. Such indeed it ought to
have been. Fifty dollars’ worth of ultramarine were swallowed up in
the sky alone, besides a whole barrel of bitumen in the foreground.
The _materièl_ alone cost two hundred pounds a-year, and to meet
this outlay, L---- lived chiefly upon bread and potatoes, whilst the
colourman who supplied him, realized a fortune.
Among other flights of fancy which the picture exhibited, was that
of a colossal horse suspended in mid-air, and in order to obtain the
most suitable model for his purpose, L---- purchased a genuine dead
animal, which he succeeded in securing in a suitable position, by
attaching tackle to the roof of his studio. This, though a work of
considerable engineering difficulty, was rapidly accomplished by L----,
whose perseverance was a match for any obstacle. At this juncture, he
was compelled to quit Rome for a week or so, and, as his custom was,
carefully locked up his studio, and carried with him the key. He had
not been absent many days, before his more immediate neighbours were
annoyed by an unusual, and by no means agreeable odour, which emanated
from L----’s quarters, and gradually increased to such a degree, that
the good people assembled in dismay, fearful that nothing less than
some foul murder had been perpetrated, whilst L----’s absence was
now for the first time noticed. An application was then made to the
Governor, who happened to be a personal friend of the artist, and
therefore declined any interference. The nuisance increased, and at
length became so unbearable, that a search was instituted, and the
doors ordered to be forced. L---- arrived from the country just as
a file of _carabinieri_ entered the Via Margutta, and had no sooner
learned the reason of their unwonted appearance, than he stationed
himself at the top of his stairs, with a pistol in either hand,
determined to resist to the death, the meditated violation of his
sanctum. But the Governor’s orders were not to be lightly treated,
and L----, finding that delay would avail him nothing, consented to
admit one of the soldiers, selecting the least intellectual-looking of
the lot, in the hope that his stupidity would prevent any revelations
respecting the subject of the picture. No sooner had the poor fellow
passed the threshold, than he fell back and fainted. And now the murder
was out--the model horse had fallen to pieces, and no one could be
found rash enough to approach such a mass of abomination as the carcass
now presented. The helmet of Alonzo the Brave was nothing to it. The
very _facchini_, who are proverbial for their willingness to undertake
any job, however dirty, were in this instance inexorable, and it was
not until L---- had promised them a reward, which their cupidity could
no longer resist, that they consented to remove the body and consign it
to the Tiber.
The picture was at length finished, and although from certain
peculiarities in its detail, it was not suffered by the Pope to be
publicly exhibited in Rome, it proved, with all its eccentricities,
such a marvellous production, that it eventually found its way to the
gallery in the Winter Palace of the Emperor of Russia, who purchased it
for fifteen hundred pounds.
On another floor of the same house, in the Via Margutta, is the
studio of the Italian artist V----, justly famed for his pictures
of the chase, and more particularly that of the wild-boar, which he
first hunts down for his amusement, and then transfers to canvas for
his profit. V---- paints every hair with minute distinctness, and is
never better pleased than when his productions are submitted to a
microscopic test, which, to say truth, they will bear at any time. His
anxiety about Landseer was sometimes very amusing, and though he had
heard, and believed, that his rival could paint an animal _asleep_,
he could not be induced to credit his ability to do justice to one _in
motion_, until about a year ago, when he paid a visit to London, where
I met him, just after he had been favoured with a sight of some of our
great artist’s unrivalled pictures. The look of anguish with which he
regarded me, when I reverted to the subject, I shall never forget. In
P----’s studio, among many other valuable pictures, is the Magdalene
of Correggio, which at one time excited so much interest, and caused a
lengthy litigation. Its history is so familiar, that I need not here
enter into it.
[Illustration]
FOOTNOTES:
[20] The immediate object of the club, is the relief of sick or
distressed artists of any nation, and in order to effect this purpose,
each member pays a trifling annual subscription, whilst on a certain
night in the year, there is a sale by auction, in the club-room, of
sketches and drawings contributed by members, which are knocked down
to the highest bidder. Thus it often happens, that a chance visitor
becomes possessed of the productions of the most eminent artists,
at a cost totally disproportioned to their real value, and which he
might otherwise have been unwilling to purchase. New members pay for
the whole of the wine consumed on the evening of their admission, and
if it should so occur, that no fresh candidate is on the list, this
expense is defrayed by one individual from among the body, who take it
in turns. The election of President is a very interesting ceremony, and
the same person is eligible more than once. Herr W----r, who is not
only an eminent artist, but an accomplished musician, has, I believe,
many times been elected President of the Cervaro Fest, and he it was
who filled the chair of the Ponte Molle, during my visit to Rome.
[21] I was afterwards informed, that the tendency of the couplets was
at once humorous and satirical, hitting, in rather a severe manner, the
artistical peculiarities of certain men of eminence, as well as of many
then present.
[22] The celebrated Thorwaldsen held this decoration in such high
estimation, that discarding those which his fame and talents had
procured him in every court of Europe, he presented himself before that
of Denmark, wearing only the solitary and unimposing decoration of the
“Order of the Bajocco.”
[23] The gentleman here named is well known in Rome, and acted I
believe, at one time as secretary to the Danish sculptor before alluded
to.
[24] Maria de’ Monti, one of the most popular models of Rome, who had
frequently suffered annoyance from the importunities of a _contadino_,
met him one day in the Piazza Barberini, when the solicitations were
again renewed. Having indignantly rejected his addresses, and received
at the same time, a provoking _schiaffo_, or slap in the face, she
drew the _spadino_ from her hair, and stabbed him in the breast. No
sooner was the blow given, than the irritated girl ran to the French
Academy on the Pincio to seek refuge, it being considered by the models
as a sort of sanctuary. The man died shortly after, and on being
brought before the police, Maria was immediately acquitted on the
score of her youth and previous good character, and in consideration
of the provocation she had received. This specimen of Roman justice
may appear very lax to English minds, and its want of severity can
only be reconciled by the reflection, that the criminal deed was
entirely unpremeditated, and that a blow in the face is regarded by the
irritable Romans, as an unpardonable insult.