THE POLITICAL REFORMS OF THE YEAR 1847 IN TUSCANY—MY FIRST SCHOLARS—CISERI, PRATI, ALEARDI, FUSINATO, COLETTI, AND CHIARINI THE IMPROVISATORE—INEDITED VERSES BY PRATI—GIUSEPPE VERDI—A DIGRESSION ON ARTISTIC INDIVIDUALITY—THE EMPEROR OF RUSSIA'S VISIT TO MY STUDIO—REACTIONARY MOVEMENT OF THE 12TH OF APRIL, 1849—I AM IN DANGER OF MY LIFE—THE RETURN OF THE GRAND DUKE.
The elevation of Pius IX. to the Pontificate, the amnesty and reforms granted by that Pontiff, which initiated and awoke the liberal sentiments of all Italy, were perhaps felt more in Florence than elsewhere, almost all the political refugees from the different States having for some time past found a safe and peaceful home there, owing to the character and patriarchal laws of the Grand Duke. This drew me away from the serene quiet of my studio, and with the others I shouted, "Long live Ferruccio! Pius IX.! the press! the civic guard and Gioberti!" and all the rest. The principal leader of our peaceful demonstrations was the advocate Antonio Mordini, and after him came Giuseppe La Farina, and others. Not a petition was made to the Government or a deputation sent to the Prince in which I did not take part. Whether our honest demands were of use to the country, I will not discuss, but certainly my work suffered not a little from this state of things. Nor was I the only one to abandon the studio; all, young and old, were possessed and inflamed with a national aspiration for independence from foreign occupation. The consequence of all this excitement was, that I was taken away from my studies and work; and, in short, while there was a great deal of patriotic enthusiasm, there was but little study, very little profit, and much idle talk on questions more or less futile, by which family peace was destroyed, and friendship made a matter of caution and suspicion.
POLITICS AND REVOLUTION OF '48.
Although in these memoirs I do not propose to speak of politics (not feeling equal to it), I wish to touch on the great events that produced the revolution of '48, as they were one of the causes of interruption in my art; and even in politics, in consequence of the turn things were taking, I found myself set aside. Some of my friends whose views went far beyond mine left me, and the others that had remained stationary blamed me even for those temperate aspirations that were those also of the Government. I was disheartened, self-involved, and ill at ease. With the growth of the revolution, the departure of the Grand Duke, and the dread of a dangerous crisis, artistic life was not one of the most flourishing, and I had not work of any kind, except to retouch the wax of "Abel and Cain," that the Grand Duke had given an order to Papi to cast in bronze.
Seeing this, I concentrated all my life in my family affections. My studio had become deserted; my scholars—Tito Sarrocchi, Luigi Majoli, and Enrico Pazzi—had left me to go to the camp. They returned afterwards, but were always tossed about on the wave of the revolution. Only one of my workmen, Romualdo Bianchini, was left dead on the field, the 29th of May, at Curtatone.
I passed my days in great sadness. Antonio Ciseri, with whom I had contracted a friendship from my earliest steps in art, had his studio near mine, and we used to exchange visits. Although he was not a facile talker, his nature was open and ingenuous; and as his principles in art, his morals, and his habits agreed with mine, a strong friendship grew up between us, which has never diminished; and if years have whitened our beards, our hearts have not grown old, and we love each as in our early years. To-day he is one of our first painters, and has a number of able and devoted scholars.
POETS AND IMPROVISATION.
Amongst my friends was also Dr Giuseppe Saltini, who for many years had been a physician in the employment of the Government, and now leads a hard life with restricted means, on account of having so many children. Now I will describe an evening passed most pleasantly in those times. One day some clever men came to see me—Prati, Aleardi, Fusinato, Coletti, doctor and poet, and others that I do not remember. They said to me, "Is it true that in Florence there are, as in the days gone by, improvisatori poets? We [it was Prati who spoke] are curious to hear one, and have not the pretension, as you can imagine, to expect high flights, but only free verses, and really improvised. Here is Aleardi (whom I present to you), who is a confounded sceptic on the subject of improvisation, and says that these people commit to memory a great quantity of verses of various measures, and when the occasion offers itself, have the art of patching them together in such a way that the mosaic resembles a real picture. You must know, however, that my friend is very slow in composition,—much slower than I am, although he is a far abler and more graceful poet."
"I believe," said I, "I know just the person you are looking for, and Aleardi will be disabused of such a notion. It is a certain Chiarini, called Baco, who keeps a little stall under the Uffizi, and I have heard him many times, alone or in company of others. It was real improvisation; the flow of his ideas was not common or vulgar, and he invested them with a graceful and vigorous form. You shall hear him. I will take upon myself to invite him to come. Return here, and I will tell you when he is able to do so, for he is a man who has much to do. During the day, as I have said, he attends to his little shop under the Uffizi, and in the evening he is engaged to go here and there on purpose to show his skill as an extempore poet."