ILLNESS.
The Grand Duke Leopold, that excellent sovereign, who was called the babbo—I know not if from affection or derision—was for me (and for many others who do not think proper to admit it) really paternal in his care and timely help. Almost every day he wished to have news of my health; and constantly sent Luigi Venturi, his secretary and a friend of mine, to make inquiries. When he heard that matters had come to this bad pass, he charged his private medical attendant, Luigi del Punta, to come and examine me, study my disease, and suggest a remedy. Del Punta, before coming to see me, acquainted my medical advisers with the order he had received, and a consultation was fixed for the following day, which was the 8th of September, 1852—the Feast of the Virgin. On that morning Alberti and Barzellotti arrived first, paid me a little visit, and then retired into the sitting-room to wait for Del Punta. The sitting-room was next to my room. Del Punta came in, and they talked for a long time, but in an undertone, so that I heard nothing, except one word pronounced by Del Punta, which put me in a great state of apprehension, and that was "tape-worm." The idea that I could have that ugly malicious beast inside me frightened me, and when they came into my room they found me in a much worse condition than when they had left me a little time before. I always remember the piercing look of Del Punta, anxious and penetrating. Then he began to question me, and examine me all over, by auscultation, thumping, and squeezing me. His inspection was a long one; but as he proceeded little by little, his expression became more open, his beaming frank eyes met mine, and I could almost say that a mocking smile played about his lips. Seeing me still staring at him, he gave me a little tap with his hand on my shoulder, and said, "Well, be of good cheer; there is nothing serious the matter." And seeing that I did not believe him, he added, "I tell you you haven't a cabbage-worth the matter with you!" and he said this with emphasis.
CONSULTATION OF PHYSICIANS.
Well, my dear reader, that foolish expression did me good. If he had assured me in the usual way, and with select phraseology, that I had nothing serious the matter with me, it would not have had the eloquence or efficacy of that slang word blurted out with such force in the face of the sick man, before the other medical men, with my poor wife listening sadly and anxiously, my little ones about me, not understanding, but full of vague fears on account of their mother's sadness and the novelty of the thing. It brought with it, I say, such a sense of conviction, that it was for me a true and positive affirmation.
Poor Luigi! as learned in medicine as you were genial as a friend, on that day you gave new life to me when I seemed to see it fleeting from me. You so vivacious, so full of health—I so weak and ill; who would have then said that so soon you would be gone?
I AM SENT TO NAPLES.
After having assured me and my wife that there was no serious disease, that I should certainly recover, he added that I required a special method of treatment that had more to do with a regimen of life than with medicine, and that he would refer the result of the consultation and his examination to the Grand Duke. In fact, he reported to the Grand Duke (as I afterwards learned), that in the condition in which I was, I could not have lived; my nerves were so shattered that I had become very weak, and that I suffered from vertigo and could hardly stand, and at last had lost my appetite and power of sleeping. It was urgent that I should have rest; and this would consist in taking me away from home, away from my studio, from Florence, from all—in one word, sending me off on a journey, not a long one, but far enough to distract me from cares and thoughts that oppressed; this was the only remedy, he said, and could be freely adopted, as I had no internal disease. It was necessary that I should have a companion that I liked with me, and he suggested that my wife should accompany me.
A few days after, the Grand Duke informed me by means of his secretary, Venturi, that it was necessary for me to have a change of air, and that Professor del Punta had advised Naples, as it was a bright cheerful place to stay in—where the air was mild, and where there were many pleasant things to distract one: that I must therefore make my arrangements to go there; that my wife and one little girl must accompany me; and that I was not to give a thought to anything, as he provided for everything during the time that was necessary for my recovery, and he recommended me to his minister Cavaliere Luigi Bargagli.
ARRANGEMENTS FOR DEPARTURE.
Every day that preceded my departure, Professor del Punta came to see me, and encouraged me to be of good cheer also, on the part of the Grand Duke. The preparations for our departure were many, and by no means trifling. It was necessary to make arrangements so that the work in the studio should not be without direction, and should be carried on carefully. Tito Sarrocchi, then my scholar and workman, was intrusted with the direction of it. The works in hand, besides the statue of Sant'Antonino, were, "Innocence and the Fisherman," for Lord Crawford of London, and some busts. As to models in clay, I left a Bacco dell'uva Malata, that Sarrocchi had charge of until my return. My friends, artists and not artists, came during those days to say good-bye to me, some of them consoling themselves with hopes of my recovery, and others fearing that they should never see me again, so emaciated and sad was I; and Antonio Ciseri wept in saying good-bye.