I bowed and went away. On the stairs I said to myself, "You have done a pretty business. You see how you were dismissed, and with what irritation. You had better have minded your business. What had you to do with this? Did he ask you to give your advice? No; you have your deserts, and will learn better another time." And slowly, slowly I returned home. But none the less I was not dissatisfied with myself for having spoken frankly to the Grand Duke on this matter. I had expressed my true opinion, and I should have felt more regret if I had been silent, inasmuch as I was thoroughly convinced of the utility and propriety of what I had said. Besides, I knew how good the Grand Duke was, and with what attention he had listened to me on other occasions when he interrogated me on questions relating to art in general, or to my own works in particular. But the phrase "decreed" still hammered in my head, and I said to myself, "Very well,—it is decreed; but his decree is not a decree of heaven. We shall see. After all, I have said what it seemed to me just to say, and there is nothing improper in that; and if there was any impropriety, it was on his part in not allowing me to finish. And there is this also," I said—"that colossus in the middle of the Loggia will dwarf all the other statues, and make them of little consequence; so that by an accursed necessity they will have to remove the group of the Rape of the Sabines, and the Perseus, which stand very well there, as well as the Centaur and the Ajax, and all the others along the wall, which are not placed well, whether the David is there or not."
VISIT OF RAUCH.
But in the meantime, a fortunate incident gave a new direction to the affair of the removal of the David, and a great weight to my words.
One morning a gentleman came to my studio, who said he wished to see me. I, who then was accustomed to permit no one to pass into my private studio, went out to see him. He was tall of person, dignified, and benevolent of aspect; his eyes were blue, and over his handsome forehead his white hair was parted and carried behind the ears in two masses, which fell over the collar of his coat. He extended his hand to me, and said—
"For some time I have heard you much spoken of; but as Fame is frequently mendacious, in coming to Florence I wished, first of all, to verify by an examination of your works the truth of all I have heard of you; and as I find them not inferior to your high reputation, I wished to have the pleasure of shaking your hand;" and he then took both my hands in his.
"You are an artist?" I asked.
"Yes," he replied,—"a sculptor."
I wondered who he could be. He spoke Italian admirably, but with a foreign accent.
"Excuse me,—are you living in Rome?"
"Oh no," he answered; "I lived there for thirty years, but now for some time I have been in Berlin. I am Rauch."