IN BETTER SPIRITS.
I worked with true enthusiasm, getting up at an early hour, and after a slight breakfast with my family, going down into the studio, which was almost under my own room. I kept note of all my expenses, to have some idea of the price I should ask for my model, as it was his Highness's intention to have it cast in bronze. I was very light-hearted, as I have already said; and the principal reason for my being so was, that I saw by means of this work the bread for my family was provided for. I had not put aside a soldo, and the various works I had made during eight years—that is to say, from '42 to '50—had yielded me barely enough to live upon, because the inevitable expenses of housekeeping had absorbed all the little I had beyond. I lived day by day, hoping always that fortune would smile upon me as in my early years; and now with this work of the pedestal for the table, I felt at ease.
I have thought it opportune to enter into these minute particulars, that the young artist may learn two things from them: first, not to give himself up with too much assurance to the joys of early triumphs; and secondly, not to get discouraged in the bitter days of want and disillusions, when he feels himself forsaken. I know so many young men who become dejected at once, and inveigh against adverse fortune, against the injustice of men and their neglect, and other phrases equally idle, proud, and foolish.
MUSSINI'S WORKS.
My studio was no longer what it used to be at one time—no longer the place of rendezvous of applauding friends and admirers who followed the fashion of the moment; these all went about their own affairs, and had nothing more to do with me. Some of the most distinguished amongst them, after the Restoration, were refugees, some in one place, some in another. Venturi was the only one who remained, and he came often to see me, and we talked at length about Art. Ciseri also was a good and faithful friend, and used to come to take me for a long walk in the evening. Mussini, whom I had known a short time before, first left for Paris, and then returned to go to Siena as Director of the Institute of Fine Arts there, where he still teaches, and from his admirable school have come such famous artists as Cassioli, Franchi, Maccari, and Visconti, who died a miserable death from drowning at Rome.
MUSSINI'S CHARACTER AND FORTUNES.
I knew Mussini in 1844, when he had finished his four years of pensionat, and was on his return from Rome. Mussini was then a remarkable young artist, having gone through a varied and severe course of study. His compositions were serious and careful, and as a draughtsman he followed the style of our Florentine school of the quattrocento. Those qualities he showed in his first pictures, the Expulsion of the Profaners of the Temple, Sacred Music, and the Allegory of Almsgiving. In his last sketch, which he made in Rome, Abelard and Heloïse, he changed a little from his first manner, or I should better say from his first method: in the "Abelard" he followed the modern German school—Overbeck perhaps. As soon as he had returned to Florence he set to work on his Triumph of Truth, abandoning his first views, enlarging his style, freshening his colouring, and taking his inspiration from Leonardo and Raphael. We became friends. He was rather a small thin young man, with black hair, black eyes, and olive complexion. In his conversation he was vivacious, sententious, and decided; an admirer of Phidias and Giotto above all others; also of Raphael, Michael Angelo, and, in modern times, of Ingres and Bartolini. His companionship and friendship were of great use to me on account of his frank and sound advice on Art. He went for some time to Paris, and returned, as I have already said, to occupy the place of Director of the Institute of Fine Arts at Siena—a post that he had begged me to ask for in his name; and in this way I lost the friendship of Enrico Pollastrini, who had asked for it for himself. As soon as I heard that the post was vacant by the death of Menci, I advised Mussini by letter to apply for it. He answered me at once, thanking me for my advice, but adding that at present he did not wish to leave Paris. Two days after, in another letter he told me he had changed his mind, and begged me, as I have said, to make an application in his name. Pollastrini, who knew neither of my advice and counsel to Mussini nor of my having asked for the post for him, came to see me, to get me to promise that I would support him in his demands for the place. Poor Enrico! he died but a few months ago. He was an excellent man, affectionate, and ready to serve a friend, but mistrustful and irascible. He would take offence at a mere nothing, and once in that vein, he was capable of not bowing to you for some time. I did not like him the less for all this. He never did any harm to anybody; and I believe he would not have killed even a fly, much less have been of injury to any one. May God give his soul peace! He came, therefore, to see me and get me to pledge myself in his favour; and when he heard that I had recommended the nomination of Mussini—for by my petition it was to be understood that I supported him—he was annoyed, and did not hide his resentment, saying that he should not have expected me to show this preference, or to put another before him. I answered that I knew nothing about his having asked for the nomination, and that what I had done had been from a desire that a clever artist, and one so able to teach, should not remain in a foreign land. These reasons, instead of bringing persuasion to him, only embittered him the more, and he was angry with me for a long time. But below the surface poor Enrico cared for me, and has shown it in a thousand ways.
MUSSINI'S PRINCIPLES IN ART.
I have said that Mussini was a master of sound and true principles in Art; and so he is still, for his school at Siena has produced, and produces, excellent results. Beyond these principles, he had the power of communicating and exemplifying them to others, and this is a most important and invaluable faculty in a teacher. Before he left for Paris, he kept a school in Via Sant'Apollonia, where, amongst other scholars, I remember a certain Pelosi di Lucca, Gordigiani, and Norfini, now painters of repute. He begged me to take the direction of his school, and I accepted, not without observing to him that I had not the necessary qualities for that place; but he insisted, and I yielded. Things, however, went as it was natural they should go; the school lingered on awhile, and after a few months was broken up.
GORDIGIANI'S TALENT FOR SCULPTURE.