Thoughts on Art and Autobiographical Memoirs of Giovanni Dupre Part 27

[Sidenote: MY DAUGHTER AMALIA.]

Now that I am speaking of my scholars, it is but just that I should mention my daughter Amalia. She used at that time to come and see me in my studio with her mother and sisters; and while the little Beppina and Gigina stayed out in the little square playing together and gathering flowers, Amalia remained in my studio silently watching me at work. When her mother was getting ready to take her home, she was so unwilling to tear herself away from gazing at my work, that I asked her one day--

"Would you like to do this work?"

"Yes, papa," the child quickly replied.

"Well, then," I said, "stay with me."

Then I turned to my wife and said, "Leave Amalia with me for company; she can return home with me." I arranged a slate on a little easel in form of a reading-desk for her, prepared some bits of clay, and showed her how to spread the clay to a certain thickness on the slate as a foundation; then I placed before her a small figure of one of the bas-reliefs from the doors of San Giovanni, by Andrea Pisano, and I said to her,--"With this little pointed stick you must draw in the figure, then you must put on clay to get the relief; but first I must see if your drawing is like the original. Only the outline is necessary, and this line should only reproduce the movement and proportion of the little figure you have before you. Do you understand?" The child understood so well, that, at the first trial, she traced all the outline of the figure correctly. It must, however, be remembered that Amalia and her sisters had taken lessons in drawing from me, and had always kept them up.

[Sidenote: AMALIA DUPRe AND HER WORKS.]

From that day to this Amalia has never left the studio, and art has become so dear a thing to her that she can now no longer do without it.

Her works are well known. Besides portraits, of which she has many, the greater number of them in marble, she has modelled and executed in marble various statues and bas-reliefs. The statues are: the "Child Giotto," Dante's "Matelda," "St Peter in Chains," the Monument of the Signora Adele Stracchi, and that of our dearest Luisina--statues all life-size, and except the "Matelda" and "St Peter," all cut in marble; also two small statues, a "St John," and an Angel throwing water, for the baptismal font in a rich chapel of one of Marchese Nerli's villas; also a little Angel, still in plaster, and a group of the Madonna and Child with a lamb, for the Church of Badia in Florence. The bas-reliefs are: the Madonna, accompanied by an angel, taking to her arms the youthful soul of the daughter of the d.u.c.h.ess Ravaschieri of Naples. For Arezzo: the Sisters of Charity conducting the asylum children to the tomb of Cavaliere Aleotti, in act of prayer and grat.i.tude; eight saints in bas-relief for the pulpit of the Cathedral of San Miniato; four bas-reliefs for monuments in that same cathedral to the following persons--"Religion" for Bishop Poggi, "History" for Bernardo Buonaparte, "Physics" for Professor Taddei, and "Poesy" for the poet Bagnoli; a font, with a small statue of Sant'Eduvige, for the Countess Talon of Paris; a bas-relief for the lunette over the door of my new studio at Pinti; a little bronze copy of the "Pieta"; a copy of the "Justice,"

also in bronze; a statuette of St Joseph, and a statue of St Catherine of Siena, in _terra cotta_, for the chapel of a pious refuge for poor children at Siena; a little group in marble of the _Virtu teologali_ for Signor Raffaello Agostini of Florence; and a large statue, life-size, of the Madonna Addolorata, in _terra cotta_, for the Church of St Emidio at Agnone. All these works, you understand, were done by her as a pleasant way of exercising herself in her art, gratuitously, as is most natural; but it did not so appear to the tax-agent, who, however, was obliged to correct himself by cancelling her name from the roll of taxpayers, where it had been put. Poor Amalia, working from pure love of art, doing good by giving your work away, and often the worse for it in your pocket; and then to behold yourself taxed in the exercise and sale of your work! A pretty thing indeed!

[Sidenote: AMALIA'S CHARACTER.]

As I am now on a subject that attracts me, I cannot tear myself from it in such a hurry. It is not permitted me to speak of the artistic merit of my daughter. My opinion would be a prejudiced one, both as father and as master, and therefore I have restricted myself only to note down the works that she has done so far; but I cannot refrain from making known the internal satisfaction I feel in seeing my teaching productive of such good fruit. It fell on ground so well prepared that it sprouted out abundantly and spontaneously. The consolation a master feels when he sees his pupil understand and almost divine his thought, is very great; and when this pupil is his own daughter, one may imagine how much the greater it is. And when I think of her modest nature, shrinking from praise, desirous of good, tender and compa.s.sionate with the poor in their sorrow, grieving as I do for the many irreparable family misfortunes, I still thank the Lord that He has let me keep this angel, and also my other daughter Beppina, who is not less loving to us and to her husband, by whom her love is returned in a Christian spirit. She also is endowed by nature with sentiment for art, and her drawings and certain little models in clay are the indications of wide-awake, ready apt.i.tude. I treasure a bust of Dante that she modelled, and that was cut in marble, and deplore that the new life she has entered upon, and perhaps a delicate feeling of consideration for her sister, have made her desist from the continuation of a career well begun. Now she is a mother; and the duties of a mother are so n.o.ble and so arduous as to repress any other tendencies even more natural to her and more attractive.

[Sidenote: THE FAcADE OF SANTA CROCE.]

[Sidenote: BAS-RELIEF, TRIUMPH OF THE CROSS.]

Now let us return to the facade of Santa Croce. I ordered the "Refinding of the Cross" from Sarrocchi, and the "Vision of Constantine" from Zocchi; and both Zocchi and Sarrocchi set themselves at once to work.

Here is the explanation of the conception of my bas-relief: It seemed to me that the "Triumph or Exaltation of the Cross" ought to be explained by means of persons or personifications that the Cross, with its divine love, had won or conquered. The sign of the Cross stands on high resplendent with light, and around it are angels in the act of adoration. Under the Cross, and in the centre of the bas-relief on the summit of a mountain, there is an angel in the act of prayer, expressive of the attraction of the human soul towards Divinity. By means of prayer descends the grace that warms and illuminates the intellect and affections of man. The affections and intellect, divided from the Cross, again return to the Cross, and are expressed by the following figures that stand below: A liberated slave, half seated, half reclining, with his face and eyes turned upward, expressive of grat.i.tude for his liberation,--for from the Cross descended and spread over all the earth that divine word of human brotherhood; and near the slave a savage on his knees, leaning on his club; the stupidity and fierceness of whose look are subdued and illuminated by the splendour of the Cross. These two impersonations are in the centre below, leaving the s.p.a.ce to the right and left for the following personages: On the right of the person looking at the bas-relief is Constantine unsheathing his sword when he beheld the sign and heard the words, "_In hoc signo vinces_"; near Constantine is the Countess Matilda, whose pious att.i.tude revealed her strong love for the Church of Christ, and enabled it to put up a barrier against foreign arrogance, and to defend the liberty of the Italian Communes; behind her, nearly hidden, owing to her holy timidity, the Magdalen, to indicate that the ardours of l.u.s.t were conquered by the fire of divine love. On his knees, bent to the ground, with his face in his hands, is St Paul the elect, who from an enemy had become the strenuous defender of the Gospel and apostle of the Gentiles. St Thomas, with one knee on the ground, a book in his hand, in a modest pensive att.i.tude, recalls the words of Jesus, who said, "_Bene scriptisti de me, Thoma._" A little in the background, near Constantine, is the Emperor Heraclius, dressed in sad raiment, commemorative of the wars against the Christians; and a Roman soldier bearing the standard inscribed with "S.P.Q.R." closes the composition on this part of the bas-relief. On the left side the princ.i.p.al figure is Charlemagne; an unsheathed sword is in one hand, and in the other a globe with a cross, emblems of his vast dominions and his mission of propagating the true faith; he also represents the greatest material power conquered for the glory of the Cross. Dante is near him--the greatest Christian intellectual power--and he holds in his hand the three 'Canticles,' called by him 'Poema Sacro.' Near Dante the poor monk of a.s.sisi, with his hands pressed to his breast, looking lovingly and with fixed attention at the Cross. In these three figures are represented the dominator of the world, the dominator of the spirit, and the dominator of poverty and humility attracted by love of the Cross. To complete this group you see St Augustine in his episcopal robes, holding in his hand a volume of 'The City of G.o.d'; and behind them a martyr with a palm, as pendant to the Roman soldier on the opposite side.

[Sidenote: THE TRIUMPH OF THE CROSS.]

Such is the composition of the "Triumph of the Cross," which is above the middle door of that temple where the ashes of Michael Angelo and Galileo rest, and where it has been my desire for so many years that a memorial monument to Leonardo da Vinci should be placed. And, vain though it be, I shall always call for it louder and louder, the more that I see the mediocrity that a want of taste continues to erect there.

As it is not permissible for me to speak of the praise I had for this work, I will not pa.s.s over in silence a criticism that was made to me about my having selected the Countess Matilda to put into my composition. It was objected that the Countess Matilda served the Pope, served the Church of Rome, but did not do homage especially to the Cross. I have given the reason of her serving the Pope. I have already given a few words in explanation of that personage; and as for the distinction that there is between the Church of Christ and Christ Himself, I must frankly say that I do not understand it. Let not the reader believe, however, that I am one of those Christians desirous of being more Christian than the Pope himself, and excessively intolerant and pa.s.sionate. No; [Sidenote: PIUS IX. IN FLORENCE.]

I am with the teaching of the apostles, and that seems to me enough, for it includes all, even comprising the beautiful exhortation of Father Dante, when he says--

"Avete il vecchio e il nuovo Testamento, E il pastor della Chiesa che vi guida,"[11] &c.

"Ye have the Old and the New Testament, And the pastor of the Church who guideth you."

[11] Dante, Paradiso, canto 5.

In fact--not now, but soon--I will let you know, and touch with your hand, so to speak, the fact that I am not in the good graces of some of those people who depicted me to the eyes of the Holy Father after the manner of a bad _barocco_ painter--falsifying proportions, character, and expression. But, as I have said, I will return to this later on; and meanwhile, I must say that the Holy Father did not know me at all, as the only time that I had the honour of bending before him and kissing his foot he took me for another person. And it occurred when the Pontiff Pius IX. pa.s.sed through Florence after his tour through the Romagna. The Grand Duke did all the honours of Florence to him. During the few days that he remained in Florence the Grand Duke accompanied him wherever he thought it would give him pleasure to go, and, amongst other places, he took him to visit the manufactory of _pietre dure_, and the Academy of Fine Arts; and on this occasion our president invited the College of Professors to be present, that we might see the Holy Father near, and perform an act of reverence to the Supreme Hierarch. The Pope was seated on an elevated place like a throne; on his left was the Grand Duke; the Ministers, dignitaries, and our president were standing near him. We were called, one by one, and presented by our president, Marchese Luca Bourbon del Monte, to the Holy Father; and those who were presented prostrated themselves before him, kissed his foot, and then returned to their places. When it came to my turn, the Grand Duke turned to the Pope and said--

[Sidenote: A MISTAKE OF PIUS IX.]

"Here, Blessed Father, is the artist who made the "Cain" and "Abel" that your Holiness seemed well satisfied with."

And the Holy Father, turning to me, answered--

"I congratulate you. They are two most beautiful statues. You have nothing to envy in the Berlin or Munich casting."

"Most Blessed Father," I hastened to reply, "I am not the caster of those statues, but----"

"Go," continued the Holy Father--"go, and may G.o.d bless you;" and making one of those great crosses in the air that Pius IX. knew so well how to make, he sent me away in peace, in the midst of the silent but visible hilarity of all those who had witnessed my embarra.s.sment. It is more than probable that the Grand Duke rectified the mistake incurred by his Holiness; and I should regret if I had remained in his mind as the caster, when that merit belonged personally and legitimately to Professor Clemente Papi. But if it is easy to imagine that that mistake was then cleared up, it is difficult to say the same of the one at the present day, because it is harder to rectify. I heed very little the censure of certain extreme Catholics, believing that I share it with many whom I should wish to resemble in every respect: but the censure of the Pope was indeed painful to me; and I managed in such a way, by showing myself just as I am, that I obtained his goodwill. But of this, as I have already said, I will speak further on, and now I return to my works.

[Sidenote: PORTRAIT OF MARSHAL HAYNAU.]

The reader may have observed that I have made no mention of portraits, although I have made many. As, however, amongst these portraits there is one that made some noise, and as the things that were said, being magnified by pa.s.sion and by the inexact information of the person who spread these reports, might lead those who are in the dark to form a wrong impression, I have thought best to narrate the facts as they were.

One day a gentleman asked to speak to me. He was a man of about sixty, tall, thin, with deep-set, changeable, and vivacious eyes, thick-marked eyebrows, long moustaches, lofty bearing, and with such a singular and expressive face, that when an artist sees it, he is at once possessed with a desire to make it a study. This gentleman said--

"Would you make my portrait?"

I answered, "Yes."

"How many sittings do you require to make the model?"

"Six or eight, or more, according to the length of the sittings."

"When could you begin?"

"The first days of next week."

"Very well: Monday I will be with you. At what hour?"

"At nine in the morning, if not inconvenient to you."

"Good-bye, then, until Monday. Do you know who I am?"

"I have not the honour."

"I am Marshal Haynau." And he went away.

[Sidenote: ANECDOTE OF HAYNAU.]

[Sidenote: PORTRAIT OF HAYNAU.]

Now, to say that, after having heard the name, I had pleasure in making his portrait, would be a falsehood; and yet the singularity of that face, the curiosity I had to become acquainted through conversation with a man of such haughtiness and fierceness of character, the engagement I had entered into, and my pledged word, all took from me the courage to renounce the work. It is useless to say how all my friends, and naturally even more, those who were no friends of mine, declaimed against me. The newspapers were full of attacks, the story of the brewery in London, with all its details, was told, magnified and praised; in fact, to tell the truth, it was in the days when I was taking his portrait, and then alone, that I was made acquainted with the fierce nature of this great person, as my only idea of him until then had been a very indistinct and sketchy one. The beauty of it is, that in the conversation he held with me he showed himself a quiet man, opposed to all cruelty, although a severe military disciplinarian, and inexorable in punishing refractory soldiers. He made no mystery of this, and he named to me the Hungarian generals and officers that he had had shot, as the most natural thing in the world; and because I blamed him for this, he answered: With rebels one could not do otherwise, and that he would have become guilty himself had he not punished them. But I, who had read of his cruelty to women, children--to all, in fact--censured him for this, and he denied it in a most decided manner, adding a story which, if true, I don't know what to say. Here is the anecdote: When he had gained the victory at Pesth, and had all the heads of the revolution in his hands, they were all condemned to death by a council of war.

Amongst these were the Archbishop of Pesth and a Count Karoli. He had the _alter ego_ in his hands, and in consequence his orders had no need of the Imperial sanction; but both the Archbishop and Count Karoli had powerful friends and adherents at Vienna, and these did so much, and exerted themselves to such a degree, that, an hour before the execution of the sentence, the Imperial reprieve arrived. As he, however, thought both of these men more guilty than the others, owing to their high position, and as it seemed to him unjust that they should be saved and the others sacrificed, he called them all into his presence, and after having informed the two fortunate ones of the Imperial pardon, he added these words: "It is my conviction, in virtue of the proofs which I have in my hands, and which have been examined by the council of war, that the Archbishop and Count Karoli are the most guilty of any of you; but as our most gracious sovereign has saved them from the penalty that they deserved, it is not just that those who are less guilty should suffer from it; therefore, availing myself of the power I have of _alter ego_, I spare the life of all." I can attest the truth of this story, not only in its general sense, but even to its wording. The truth of the story, I say, for as to the facts I know nothing. And I have made a note of it; for if by chance it was not true, to the stain of cruelty one can add that of having told a lie to appear merciful. The fact was that he discussed all his affairs with facile prolixity. He spoke of art and the artists that he had known at Milan, Venice, and Bologna, in the days of our servitude to Austria, and through all his stories there was always something or other of the bombastic. He urged me to make his statue, but I decidedly refused to do so. He spoke to me about it several times, and at last I was obliged to speak openly to him, and he thought my reasons just ones. Then he manifested to me his wish to have his portrait painted on horseback, and asked me if I knew a clever artist with a name that would undertake the work. This question embarra.s.sed me, being myself already compromised. I took some time to think about it, and fate was propitious, and gave me a companion with whom to bear the censure and abuse that only too certainly rained down upon us.

[Sidenote: BEZZUOLI'S DEFENCE OF MY BUST.]

Early the next morning Professor Bezzuoli came to my studio, and said--"Let me see the portrait of Marshal Haynau."

"Certainly; here it is."

"Do you know," says Bezzuoli to me, "that yesterday I had to take up your defence? There were certain chatterboxes, that don't know even how to draw an eye, who, talking of you on account of the portrait you are making, said you ought never to have accepted it, and that they could never have abased themselves to do so. I answered that an artist when he makes a portrait is not occupied with politics. If the person whose portrait is taken is a scamp, he will always be a scamp, with or without his portrait, precisely like Nero, Tiberius, or other such beasts, of whom such beautiful portraits have been taken, that it is a pleasure to see them; but it never comes into the mind of anybody for an instant to say, Look what a _canaille_ the artist must have been who made this portrait! So true does this seem to me, that if Haynau had come to me and given me an order to paint his portrait, I would have accepted his commission most willingly."