He smiled pleasantly, and shaking my hand, he said, "Oh, this is just like an artist."
We talked a long time together, and he showed me some letters of introduction that he had for Capponi, Giusti, and Niccolini. The one for Giusti was from Manzoni. All the time that he remained in Florence we saw each other every day. We made some excursions into the neighbourhood, such as to the Ginori porcelain manufactory, to Fiesole, and to Torre del Gallo. We were a company of four or five: Andrea Maffei, Manara, who afterwards died at Rome, Giulio Piatti, Verdi, and myself. In the evenings he allowed either the one or the other of us to go to hear the rehearsals of 'Macbeth;' in the mornings he and Maffei very often came to my studio. He had a great deal of taste for painting and sculpture, and talked of them with no ordinary acumen. He had a great preference for Michael Angelo; and I remember that, in the chapel of Canon Sacchi, which is below Fiesole, on the old road, where there is a fine collection of works of art, he remained on his knees for nearly a quarter of an hour in admiration of an altar-piece said to be the work of Michael Angelo. I wanted to make his bust; but for reasons independent of his will and mine, this plan could not be carried into effect, and I contented myself with taking a cast of his hand, which I afterwards cut in marble and presented to the Siennese Philharmonic Society, to which I have belonged since 1843, when, as I have before said, I went to Siena. The hand of Verdi is in the act of writing. In taking the cast the pen remained embedded in it, and now serves as a little stick to my sketch of Sant'Antonino.
VERDI.
Verdi seemed to be pleased with the Cain, the fierce and savage nature of which he felt in his very blood; and I remember that my friend Maffei endeavoured to persuade him that a fine drama, with effective situations and contrasts of character, with which Verdi's genius and inclination fitted him to cope, could be made out of Byron's tragedy of 'Cain,' which he was then translating. The gentleness of character and piety of Abel contrasted with that of Cain, excited by fierce anger and envy because the offer of Abel was acceptable to God; Abel, who caresses his brother and talks to him about God—and Cain, who scornfully rejects his gentle words, uttering blasphemies even against God; a chorus of invisible angels in the air, a chorus of demons under ground; Cain, who, blinded by anger, kills his brother; then the mother, who at the cry of Abel rushes in and finds him dead, then the father, then the young wife of Abel; the grief of all for the death of that pure character, their horror of the murderer; the dark and profound remorse of Cain; and finally, the curse that fell upon him,—all formed a theme truly worthy of the dramatic and Biblical genius of Giuseppe Verdi. I remember that at the time he was much taken with it; but he did nothing more about it, and I suppose he had his good reasons. Perhaps the nudity was an obstacle. Still, with the skins of wild beasts, tunics and eminently picturesque mantles can be made; at all events he could have set the subject to music if it offered him situations and effects and really attracted him, for Verdi has shown in his many works that he possesses that sublime and fiery genius which is adapted to such a tremendous drama. He who had conceived the grand and serious melodies of 'Nabuco,' the pathetic songs of the 'Trovatore' and the 'Traviata,' and the local colour, character, and sublime harmonies of 'Aida,' might well set Cain to music. Should Verdi at any time read these pages, who knows what he may do?
CAIN, A SUBJECT FOR AN OPERA.
And here perhaps it is best for me to make a slight digression, in order to speak of the character and disposition which specially belong to every artist independently of everything else—of his studies, of what he copies, and of the fashion of the day. Who would have thought that so sweet and strong a painter as Giotto would ever have risen out of the harsh and coarse mosaic-paintings of the Byzantines and the teachings of Cimabue? Variety of character, truth of movement and expression, broad and flowing draperies, colouring at once temperate, airy, and strong, were, it might be said, created by him, and took the place of the hardness, and I could almost say deformity, of the Byzantines and the dryness of the works of Cimabue. Nor did Fra Giovanni Angelico show less originality and individuality in his works. He lived in the full noon of the naturalistic school of Masaccio, Lippi, and Donatello, and his pure spirit drew its inspirations from the mystic and ideal sources of heaven, the Virgin, and the saints, not only in his subjects, but in their treatment. Michael Angelo, solitary in the midst of a corrupt, avaricious, and lascivious civilisation, by his temperament and will was conspicuous for his purity of morals, his large liberality, and his intellectual love; and despite of Raphael and Leonardo, those most splendid planets of Art, he maintained his originality, and his great figure towers like a giant among them.
CHARACTER OF THE ARTIST.
The artist by nature, developed by study, becomes original and has a character distinct from all others, and in no way, not even in the slightest characteristic, can, despite any exterior influence, be different from what he is. For if Giotto had been born and educated in the sixteenth or seventeenth century, he would not have painted the vain pomps and the archaic frivolities of that period; nor would Fra Angelico at the school of Giulio Romano have given himself up to the lasciviousness of his master; nor would Michael Angelo have been warped, nor was he warped, by the strength of those giants Leonardo and Raphael. The artist, then, is what he is and such as he is born, and study will only fertilise his genius, his nature, and his propensities, nor can he with the utmost force of his will conceive and create a work contrary to his nature and to his genius. Michael Angelo would never have been able, even with a hundred years of the most powerful effort, to create a Paradise like that of Giovanni Angelico; and Fra Angelico would never have imagined even one of the figures of the Last Judgment in the Sistine Chapel. I remember—and this is my reason for this digression—that one day Rossini, speaking to me confidentially of Art in general, and upon this subject and all its bearings (and he was a competent judge), came by degrees to speak of music, and of the individual character of the composers he had known, and in regard to Verdi he spoke thus: "You see, Verdi is a master whose character is serious and melancholy; his colouring is dark and sad, which springs abundantly and spontaneously from his genius, and precisely for this reason is most valuable. I have the highest esteem for it; but on the other hand, it is indubitable that he will never compose a semi-serious opera like the 'Linda,' and still less a comic opera like the 'Elixir d'Amore.'"
ROSSINI'S VIEWS OF VERDI.
I added, "Nor like the 'Barbière.'"