Perhaps the most amusing of the models, was Pietro Pombo, who made his appearance with his brother Pifferari on the steps of the Scalinata, about the beginning of Advent, staying until Christmas was over. Much of this man’s time was passed in sitting for my friend, who constantly employed him as a costume model, and Pombo was so tenacious of what he considered to be his own exclusive right in this respect, that few of the other Pifferari cared to interfere with him. “Io zono il modello del Zignorrr,” was his usual asseveration, when any of his brethren attempted to solicit a few hours’ employment. At eight in the morning, or thereabouts, he would make his appearance at the studio in the Via Margutta, saluting us in a voice of the most ultra-mountainous roughness. “Buon giorno, loro Zignorrr Mossieu,” and then introduce his little boy and inform us of the state of his health, “Bambino mio, zi Zignorr: zempre meglio, zempre meglio, zalute mia: zi Zignorrr!” K. an English artist, having sent for him one morning, and not happening to be quite ready to commence, motioned him to a seat at the far end of the room, to wait until he had put a few last touches to some sketch he was finishing. On looking up a few minutes after, he was thunderstruck on perceiving Pietro Pombo, and his minute fac-simile, the Bambino, who had divested themselves of their nether garments, fleaing them with the most impurturbable gravity and assurance. K. was too much amused to disturb them, but could no longer restrain himself, when the Pifferaro continued his toilet, by emptying a small bottle of drying oil on his black and matted locks, by way of Macassar.
The house next door to R——’s, in the Via Margutta, is famous as the birth-place of a picture which made a good deal of noise in the world. The particulars I had from an Italian acquaintance, and although it is possible he may have been generally correct, I will not vouch for the accuracy of the detail. The painting in question was the production of Mr. L——, one of the first English artists who took up his abode in Rome after the Peace, and was at first a simple picture, representing Joseph and the Virgin. By degrees, however, it became more and more allegorical, until its original dimensions were found insufficient, and fresh canvas was added from time to time. L—— now discovered that the dimensions of his studio forbade the further enlargement of his subject, inasmuch as they did not keep pace with the development of his intellectual vagaries, and a proposal was therefore submitted to the landlord to raise the roof of the house, which was politely declined. An appeal to sink the floor met with better success, and now the picture assumed a colossal form; the padrone, who had been admitted to L——’s confidence, and was the only person who had seen it, declaring it to be una cosa stupenda. Such indeed it ought to have been. Fifty dollars’ worth of ultramarine were swallowed up in the sky alone, besides a whole barrel of bitumen in the foreground. The materièl alone cost two hundred pounds a-year, and to meet this outlay, L—— lived chiefly upon bread and potatoes, whilst the colourman who supplied him, realized a fortune.
Among other flights of fancy which the picture exhibited, was that of a colossal horse suspended in mid-air, and in order to obtain the most suitable model for his purpose, L—— purchased a genuine dead animal, which he succeeded in securing in a suitable position, by attaching tackle to the roof of his studio. This, though a work of considerable engineering difficulty, was rapidly accomplished by L——, whose perseverance was a match for any obstacle. At this juncture, he was compelled to quit Rome for a week or so, and, as his custom was, carefully locked up his studio, and carried with him the key. He had not been absent many days, before his more immediate neighbours were annoyed by an unusual, and by no means agreeable odour, which emanated from L——’s quarters, and gradually increased to such a degree, that the good people assembled in dismay, fearful that nothing less than some foul murder had been perpetrated, whilst L——’s absence was now for the first time noticed. An application was then made to the Governor, who happened to be a personal friend of the artist, and therefore declined any interference. The nuisance increased, and at length became so unbearable, that a search was instituted, and the doors ordered to be forced. L—— arrived from the country just as a file of carabinieri entered the Via Margutta, and had no sooner learned the reason of their unwonted appearance, than he stationed himself at the top of his stairs, with a pistol in either hand, determined to resist to the death, the meditated violation of his sanctum. But the Governor’s orders were not to be lightly treated, and L——, finding that delay would avail him nothing, consented to admit one of the soldiers, selecting the least intellectual-looking of the lot, in the hope that his stupidity would prevent any revelations respecting the subject of the picture. No sooner had the poor fellow passed the threshold, than he fell back and fainted. And now the murder was out—the model horse had fallen to pieces, and no one could be found rash enough to approach such a mass of abomination as the carcass now presented. The helmet of Alonzo the Brave was nothing to it. The very facchini, who are proverbial for their willingness to undertake any job, however dirty, were in this instance inexorable, and it was not until L—— had promised them a reward, which their cupidity could no longer resist, that they consented to remove the body and consign it to the Tiber.
The picture was at length finished, and although from certain peculiarities in its detail, it was not suffered by the Pope to be publicly exhibited in Rome, it proved, with all its eccentricities, such a marvellous production, that it eventually found its way to the gallery in the Winter Palace of the Emperor of Russia, who purchased it for fifteen hundred pounds.
On another floor of the same house, in the Via Margutta, is the studio of the Italian artist V——, justly famed for his pictures of the chase, and more particularly that of the wild-boar, which he first hunts down for his amusement, and then transfers to canvas for his profit. V—— paints every hair with minute distinctness, and is never better pleased than when his productions are submitted to a microscopic test, which, to say truth, they will bear at any time. His anxiety about Landseer was sometimes very amusing, and though he had heard, and believed, that his rival could paint an animal asleep, he could not be induced to credit his ability to do justice to one in motion, until about a year ago, when he paid a visit to London, where I met him, just after he had been favoured with a sight of some of our great artist’s unrivalled pictures. The look of anguish with which he regarded me, when I reverted to the subject, I shall never forget. In P——’s studio, among many other valuable pictures, is the Magdalene of Correggio, which at one time excited so much interest, and caused a lengthy litigation. Its history is so familiar, that I need not here enter into it.
FOOTNOTES:
[20] The immediate object of the club, is the relief of sick or distressed artists of any nation, and in order to effect this purpose, each member pays a trifling annual subscription, whilst on a certain night in the year, there is a sale by auction, in the club-room, of sketches and drawings contributed by members, which are knocked down to the highest bidder. Thus it often happens, that a chance visitor becomes possessed of the productions of the most eminent artists, at a cost totally disproportioned to their real value, and which he might otherwise have been unwilling to purchase. New members pay for the whole of the wine consumed on the evening of their admission, and if it should so occur, that no fresh candidate is on the list, this expense is defrayed by one individual from among the body, who take it in turns. The election of President is a very interesting ceremony, and the same person is eligible more than once. Herr W——r, who is not only an eminent artist, but an accomplished musician, has, I believe, many times been elected President of the Cervaro Fest, and he it was who filled the chair of the Ponte Molle, during my visit to Rome.