I return to the living, I return to Naples. About this time the competition for the statue of Victory, as a monument for the martyrs of the four revolutions, 1821, 1831, 1848, and 1860, was to be decided on. Many were those competing for it, and all Neapolitans—amongst these Pasquarelli and Caggiano, pupils of mine; and for this reason, as well as on account of my ill health, I could not accept the position of judge. Giovanni Strazza was therefore invited to come from Milan; and he too died a few months ago, my poor friend! He had a very cultivated mind, and was as amiable and polished in manner as he could be. I knew him first in Rome in 1844, when he was very young, and when artists, amateurs, and all people crowded round his first statue of Ishmael. To all, as well as to me, he was open-hearted, loyal, and sincere, and his words were always urbane and pleasant. I saw him again at Vienna in 1873, when he was my companion in the jury for our section of sculpture at the great exhibition. But let us really return to the living, if that be possible.
The prize for the statue of Victory was adjudicated to Emanuele Caggiano, and justly so. I think this statue is one of his finest works. I have heard nothing of him now for a long time, and am afraid that he does not occupy himself with the same fervour that he displayed when he began to work under my direction.
I revisited all the things that I had seen the first time I was in Naples, with a feeling of ennui, and only gave some attention to Pompeii, because there I had the good fortune to meet the Commendatore Fiorelli, director of the excavations, and some artists that I have forgotten. I remember, however, the brotherly solicitude shown me by my friends Morelli and Palizzi, and this time even by Angelini, and the particular courtesy of Signor Vonwiller, a most cultivated man, and so great a lover of art that he has converted his house into a real modern and most select gallery. Here one finds in perfect harmony all the best products of Italian art. At that time (and many years have since passed) the pictures of Morelli, Celentano, Altamura, Palizzi, and other clever painters of that beautiful school, were admirably exhibited; there too, Vela, Magni, Angelini, and Fedi had works; and in the midst of these I felt honoured also to find myself represented by my two statues of Bacchini, the "Festante" and the "Dolente." If every city in Italy had a gentleman like Vonwiller, it may easily be believed that art would derive great benefit from it; for taste backed by great fortunes has more direct and potent efficacy than all the societies for promoting art, where, with small sips and small prizes, the genius of poor artists is frittered away. Until the day when these societies make the heroic resolution of only conferring two or three prizes (be it for pictures or statues of small dimensions; the size does not matter, as long as they are really beautiful), art will not advance one step. But in the meanwhile, let us take things as they are and push on.
SIGNOR VONWILLER'S GALLERY.
The repose and the balmy airs of beautiful hospitable Naples worked a wonderful change for the better in my health. Sleep, that beneficent restorer of the forces, which for some time past had gone from me, verily without my having murdered it, as Macbeth had, or even in the least offended it, returned with its blandishments and its calm smiling visions full of pleasant happy memories. It was the season of the year when nature dons again her green mantle. In that happy country, her awakening is more precocious, and one could say that nature was there a very early riser; and whilst the mountains were still all covered with snow, on those sweet slopes, on those enchanted shores, the little green new-born leaflets mix with the blossoms of the apple, almond, and peach trees. The light morning breeze makes these leaflets and blossoms tremble, and wafts to the air a sweet delicate perfume, that revives the body and rejoices the spirit.
THE CHARM OF SPRING.
This reawakening of nature has in it I know not what of harmony that is difficult to describe. It seems as if the chest expanded to drink in the air with unusual longing; the eyes are never weary of looking again at the budding flowerets, whose odour one inhales with a chaste voluptuousness, as of the breath of our children in their mother's arms. The mysterious wave of life, that insinuates itself in the earth, penetrating even into its most infinitesimal parts, that prepares the nuptial bed, and makes the budding vegetation fruitful; the wave, that in the profound depths of the sea gladdens the life of its mute inhabitants, gives joy and swiftness to the flight of the birds in the air, makes the animals of the earth walk with more erect, ready, and joyful step,—the wave of life, more than all, operates wonderfully on man. And I—I felt myself born unto a new life; nature seemed to me more beautiful, her bounty more desirable; the wish to observe and to work returned to me, the enjoyment of conversation, attention in listening, temperance in discussions, and courtesy in controversies, all impulses of the mind, wherein, it seems to me, lies the mysterious harmony of body and soul in perfect union—mens sana in corpore sano.
ILLNESS OF LUISINA.
Having therefore recovered my health, and taken leave of my friend Mancinelli and his good family, I again left for Rome, with the intention of passing the approaching Holy Week there; but it so happened that my poor Luisina, the youngest of my daughters, fell ill. Some symptoms of her illness had already manifested themselves in the first days after our arrival; then she had to take to her bed, and became so much worse, that we were all in the greatest anxiety—two months of such anxiety as only a father can understand; and she was so sweet a creature, and so intelligent! Then she improved a little, but did not recover. We left hurriedly, because the bitterness of losing her away from home was unbearable to us. The affectionate solicitude of our friends at this juncture was really brotherly. Majoli, Marchetti, Mantovani, Wolf, and Tenerani came forward and showed us indescribable kindness, and I remember it with gratitude, that no time can ever efface or weaken.
After our return to Florence, under treatment the disease seemed to have been got under; she recovered her health, and we thought no more about it.