One last and most essential word I have reserved for the end as a bonne bouche. Some persons have excusably and pleasantly observed that to write a book about one's self while the author is living is both very difficult and rather immodest. I replied to them, both by word of mouth and through the press, that although on account of my life and works I had studied to be as temperate and unpretentious as the truth and the facts would allow, still here and there my narrative with regard to some persons might not be agreeable, and therefore after my death it might be discredited or denied. No, this must not be, I said, and say again. I am alive, and am here to correct everything at variance with the truth, and also (I wish to be just) what is wanting in chivalrousness.
NOTE BY TRANSLATOR.
In making the present translation of the Memoirs of Giovanni Duprè, one of two courses had to be taken—either to turn the whole into pure idiomatic English, or to follow, with a certain degree of literalness, the peculiar forms of expression, and the characteristic style, or absence of style, of the original. I have chosen the latter course, in order, as far as in me lay, to convey the individuality of the author, and the local colour and character of his book. This would to a great degree have been lost had I attempted to render into purely English idiom a work that is not only written in a careless, familiar, and conversational form, and abounds in turns of expression which are essentially Florentine, but derives its interest, in part at least, from this very peculiarity.
CONTENTS.
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My motive for writing these Memoirs—My father's family—Removal of the family to Florence—My childhood—My father takes me to Pistoia, but I run away from his house to return to my mother—From Pistoia I go with my father to Prato—My first study in drawing—Strong impression made upon me by an old print—My father's opposition to my studies—My sorrow at being so far from my mother—I run the risk of being burnt—Having grown tall, fears are entertained for my health—I return to my mother at Florence and work with Ammanati—I go to Siena and study ornate design in the Academy—Carlo Pini gives me lessons in drawing the human figure—Signor Angelo Barbetti's prophecy—I run away from Siena, and on foot go to my mother at Florence—Signor Paolo Sani—Death of my sister Clementina—My mother's infirmity of eyesight—My brother Lorenzo goes to the poorhouse—My aversion to learn reading and writing—My first library, and inexperience of books,