The Sun.
London, England, 1861-10-24 00:00:00

THE ITALIAN EXILTBITION.

A letter from Florence, dated Oct. 16, says
It is not easy to foresee to what extent the nature
of the soil will allow or compel Italy to become an
industrial community. The example of Val di
Chiana (whose gigantic, almost antediluvian cattle
I described in my last letter), a mere dismal swamp
in the age of Dante, which is now the very pride
of Tuscany, and the victories of the same nature ob-
tained of late years in the so-called Valli of Ferrara,
Comacchio, and other districts of Lower Romagna,
clearly point out to the Italians the necessity of
setting to themselves, as the first task worthy of a
free people's enterprise, the conquest of their own
country. There is in the Maremme of Tuscany, in
the Paludi of Rome, in the Marshes of Naples,
Sicily,. Sardinia, and Corsica, work, bread, and a
home for nearly as many millions as are now living
in the Peninsula and the adjoining islands; and
even in the most advanced territories of Piedmont,
Lombardy, and the /Emilia, all along the Alps and
Apennines, millions of acres of the very best land
are yet to be rescued from the dry beds of lawless
mountain streams. Everywhere in Italy, in every
branch of human activity, isolation had killed the
nation ; the results of agriculture, like those of
industry, were such as might be achieved by indi-
vidual effort ; there was no reliance put on intelli-
gent association, on aggregate exertion ; and private
enterprise naturally slackened with the gradual
extinction or rapid downfall of great families and
the rapid and unlimited subdivision of properties.
It is only in the cities where industry achieved
such wonders in the Middle Ages, and in some of
the most barren valleys of Piedmont and Liguria,
and all along the mountain crests wherever the
Alps and Apennines stretch, that men may be
spared from the plough and the spade. It is only
from Biella or Como, or Lucca, from Val di Toro,
the Abruzzi, and other mountain abodes that the
scanty population is driven by want, scantily sup-
plying the plain with mowers and harvest-men, or
sending forth able artisans to France and Germany,
or idle itinerant musicians to England and America.
Italy has but few superfluous hands, and those few
are rendered unproductive from yielding to vicious
propensities at home, or obeying the impulse of in-
nate spirit of adventure abroad ; but certainly
from no actual want of ready-at-hand, profitable
employment in their own country.
The silks and velvets sustain their ancient repu-
tation and make a goodly display. The brocades
and damasks of Solei and Ghersi of Turin, of Meloni
of Bologna, of Ghilieri and Brivio of Milan, of Cris-
tofani of Florence, challenge our admiration, and
seem to me superior to those which are sent by the
factories of San Leucio, near Naples. The velvets

by Chichisola and Guillot, both houses established
at Turin as well as Genoa, are still unrivalled.
Eugenio and Luigi, both descendants of Giuseppe
Martini, excel in gold embroidery, usually applied
to gorgeous priestly vestments. Silk stuffs are sent
in great numbers from all parts of Italy, even from
regions in which such industry was not suspected
to exist by many of the Italians themselves. Riva
and Corsi, of Como, send their fine samples to the
muster, Cattaneo and Pettitti, Costa and Seravegna,
from Turin, Frullini, of Florence, and others from
the various provinces of Northern Italy, seem to bear
the palm over the stuffs which come from Naples,
Palermo and Catania. It will be long, however,
before any of these factories can compete with their
rivals of Lyons, and still longer before their coun-
trymen can overcome the prejudice which inclines
them blindly, and even sometimes unjustly, to pre-
fer anything French or English to what is merely
nostr ale—i.e., of native production.
The manufactured cottons are sent chiefly from
Milan and Monza, in Lombardy; from Pont and
Intro, in Piedmont ; from Novacchio, near Pisa, in
Tuscany ; from Sarno, near Salerno, in Naples.
Italy has, however, not so much reason to be proud
of these works as of those of the linen manufacturers,
table-linen especially, in which Leusi and Bolatti,
of Florence, and a house of Prato contend for the
prize with Tenchini, of Brescia. I cannot say I was
greatly struck with a show of ribands displayed by
a society of Turin manufacturers. The fringes of
Sabatini, of Bologna, seemed more worthy of atten-
tion.

Straw hats and other works in fine straw are ex
elusively a Tuscan product. More than ten houses
of Florence, Pistoja, Pisa, &c., vie with one
another, and the jury will have no little trouble in
adjudging the palm to the most deserving., Fine
hats, for 500 f. and 700 f. each, have been purchased
by the King. Wax candles also, as far as I have
seen, are a Tuscan industry, and the service of the
Catholic Church creates a great demand for their
produce,
Woollen stuffs and cloths are exhibited in a far
greater variety than one would have imagined, and
the trade seems to be widely spread throughout the
peninsula. The very best cloths, so far as the eye
can judge—for "visitors are," of course," expected
not to touch anything"—are those from the looms
of Sella, at Biella, and of Rossi, at Schio Veneto, in
the territory, I believe, of Vicenza. But two or
three houses of Prato, in Tuscany, one at Bologna,
one in the Tuscan district of Casentino, several from
Pinerolo, Mosso, Caselle, in Piedmont, and as many
from Naples, forwarded by Von Willer, deserve en-
couragement, and will derive no little benefit from
having their good universally known through the
country.
Weapons, chiefly sporting guns, but also revolvers,
muskets, &c., are manufactured almost everywhere
in Italy; double-barrelled guns of very good appear-
ance are sent from Mazza, of Naples, Menghini and
Menichetti, of Florence, from Massaventi, of Bo-
logna, Tiverani, of Modigliana, Brand, of Rome,
Priora, and Colombo, of Milan, Brini, of Bergamo,
Frasehini, of Brescia, Maccari, of Siena, and from
workshops at Lugo, Faenza, &c. Still the great
manufactury is that of a Society of Brescia which
had been flourishing since the middle ages, was re-
duced to the last extremity by the hostility of the
Austrian Government, and has now risen to new
life during these two or three years' freedom. It
exhibits double-barrelled guns in great number, of
the value of 90f. to 2,000 f., and muskets with
bayonets of the value of 35 francs, of which it pro-
duces 60 daily. Fine models of ancient plate
armour are exhibited by Sorbi of Florence, and by
Morgini of Turin and a lady of Milan has wrought
a fine chain mail shirt, intended as a pre-
sent " to the Hero of Caprera," Garibaldi. The
sword-blades, which are laid on the tables,
do not, of course, come up to the excellence of Eng-
lish steel. Two of them, from Palermo, are in the
shape of the old Toledo blades, and are probably of
the same fine temper. There are swords of honour
with wrought hilts, which ought to be classed
among the works of art rather than industry.
OCTOBER 17.
lleeanse the Italians had lost many of the war-
like virtues of the ancient conquerors of the world,
they had been rather too hastily set down as a
cowardly
genius exhausts ce
the
ere
e the
and because the production of
richest soil, so that it must lie
fallow for time
tread of a great man again
leaves its print on the dart of the earth, the world
had too soon come to the conclusion that the hand
of Raphael's descendants had forgotten its cunning,
and that art bad sunk in its ancient cradle below
the level of the former pupils, nowthe
rivals,
of the leading
nation. The great movement
perhawhich
a
fairly promises Tully a second, or
third youth, may not unlikely reverse more than
one of those sweeping judgments; and
if the
Italians will only guard against the promptings of
self-conceit and presumption—if they will only look I
before them, and seek in the achievements of their
forefathers, not a subject for pride, but merely a
stimulus to exertion, it is possible that mankind.
who have lately acknowledged that these people
have carried the sword not without honour into the
field, will equally give them credit for such skill in
handling the brush and the chisel as may no longer
cause Raphael's Madonnas and Titian's Venuses to
be cast as a reproach into their teeth. Academical
tyranny had unmanned the Italians as thoroughly
as political despotism. It had created in Florence,
in Rome, in Parma, in Modena, in every paltry
centre of a petty community, a small clique where
mediocrity revelled, bigoted classicism cramped and
crashed, and genius toddled and shuffled in the eter-
nal leading-strings of imitation. Genius, however,
iqrkta still. the land, and, as in literature it re-

vealed itself in the tender hymns of Manzoni, or
the acrid satires of Giusti, so it showed forth in art
in the canvass of Bezzuoli or the marble of Strazza.
Even in the Hyde-park Crystal Palace on branch,
at least, of the fine arts was still monopolised by the

Italians.
The Florentine Exhibition of 1851 is for Italian
art, no less than for Italian industry, not a show of
what the nation can do, but of what it was already,
almost unconsciously, doing. No new specimen was
got up for the occasion ; no painter or sculptor had
time, in a month or two, to strain all his powers for
an unwonted display. Indeed, many of the leading
men, such as Gastaldi of Turin, Hayet of Milan, and
others, jealous of their fair name, chose rather
not to appear at all at the muster, than with
crude sketches and hasty performances to compro-
mise a well-established reputation. Many of the
works exhibited hang on the walls in an unfinished
state ; yet no candid observer can, even at a cursory

glance, resist the impression that Italian art has
made great strides of undeniable progress.
The fear that stress of time and distance might
prevent the living artists from filling the very ex-
tensive halls and galleries with works of art in

sufficient number and of merit striking enough to
give the show all the interest it deserved, induced
the Committee of the Exhibition to assign the most
conspicuous places to what were considered the
masterpieces of men of great names recently de-
ceased. As it was done in Manchester, all owners
of famous paintings, chiefly from Florence and
other parts of Tuscany, were made to contribute
the modern treasures of their galleries, and the
works of Bezzuoli, Benvenuti, and other late Aca-
demicians, are the first to meet the eye. It was
most fortunate for the men of the present genera-
tion that their own attempts should be brought
into immediate contrast with the achievements of
their teachers; that they might, without much
fear of idle vain glory, renew the boast ofDiomedes,
and claim their well-established superiority over
their elders. Really, there is progress in painting
throughout all the schools of Italy.
After passing Bezzuoli's grand picture of
" Charles VIII.'s entrance into Florence ;" his
" Giovanni delle Bande Nere," his " Filippo
Strozzi" and " Lorenzino de Medici," and Benve-
nuti's " Ugolino," &c., you see a dense crowd
standing before a large picture unfinished, the work
of a youngartist, Domenico Morelli, of Naples. It
is called the " Iconoclasti," and it is a picture rank-
ing in merit with the works of a happier age. It is
a group of two or three monkish fanatics tearing
down and treading under foot the holy images, and
storming round one of their order, unconvinced by
their arguments, and unwilling to give in to their
fury. The rabid expression of the image-breakers,
the settled air of concern and horror of the image
worshippers are contrasted with matchless power,
and the colour is laid with that masterly skill
which Italy has never altogether unlearnt, but which
never, perhaps, was exhibited with so much effect
for centuries. Morelli has had two or three more
pictures in the upper galleries—the Bagnanti,"
the " Mascherata," the " Serenata"—all equally
awaiting the last touch, though somewhat more
juvenile compositions ; but there is a small painting
by him, representing a gentleman in medieval cos-
tume, rapt in contemplation of a skull laid on a
table before him, which is of the same character as
the " Iconoclasti," and which probably reveals the
real bent of the artist's mind.

The work which is likely to dispute the palmwith
Morelli's masterpiece is "La Cacciata del Duca
d'Atene," by Ussi, a picture which was already ex-
hibited in an unfinished state in 1859, and appears
now to have received the last touch. Ussi is a young
Florentine artist, and only known by this work, his
first, The sneaking expression of the tyrant at bay,
the storming around him of the excited figures of
the Florentine magistrates, warriors, and populace,
make this a tableau of very uncommon order; the
grouping is excellent, and the colouring, to say it in
one word, antique. Exquisite pictures, in a pleasing
style, that the eye loves to dwell upon and cannot
quit without regret, are those of Paccinelli, of Flo-
rence—a "Platonic Conversazione held by Lorenzo
de Medici and Leo X. at Careggi." The same artist
has a portrait of Gioberti, a good picture, though a
failure as a likeness; and Lucrezia Borgia in the
act of poisoning a cup for her enemy. Pollastrini,
of Leghorn, has several excellent specimens. The
best is the " Emigrants from Sienna ;" his "Murder
of Alessandro de Medici," by his Cousin Lorenzino
and the cut-throat Scoronconcolo, is a very powerful
performance, but an atrocious scene; the bleeding

tyrant has, in his death-struggle, snatched the mur-

derer's forefinger with his teeth, and fastened upon
it with a rage that is horrible to behold. The
"Death of Ferruccio," by the same master, is a
more attracting picture. Fine pictures are those of
Malatesta of Modena; the largest, the "Fall of
Ezzelino," seems to have won the suffrages of most
beholders. The tyrant is crouching by the side
of his horse, which has fallen under him. The
Italian allies, his mortal foes, are around him, with
swords, daggers, and stones, and the eagerness with
which they press upon one another to have a blow
at the fallen man is rendered with great ability.
The chafing face, the wildcat glare, the writhing
figure of the monster are excellent ; and the artist,
forgetting that Ezzelino was born in Italy of a
family which was established in the country for
three or four generations, has made it hateful in
Italian eyes by giving it that conventional set of
half-German, half-Croatian features which typifies
the Austrian in Italy. A propos to the Italian ideal
of a Tedesco, we have here battle pieces by hun-
dreds, most of them being scenes and episodes of the
late Lombard wars, and some of them, such as "Mon-
tebello," by Cerutti of Turin, and " Palestro," " La
Lettera," and the " Volunteer Bivouac," by Indund
of Milan, are works of considerable merit ; but no
less these than those by minor cultivators of art are
remarkable for the half stolid, half ferocious look,
the brutal features, the hideous cast of countenance
with which they represent the vanquished Austrians.
The national hatred and loathing show here in all
their intensity. You would say that the painter de-

lights in killing bis Croatian twice over; and we
need no other proof of the irreconcilable feeling of
repulsion which rendered the Austrian domination
in Italy utterly impossible on any other terms than
the most overwhelming brute force. One picture in
this style, exceedingly painful to look upon, is the
" Shooting of the Cignoli Family, by Gen. Urban, in
1859." It is painted by Conti of Florence. A dense
mass of Austrian infantry is crowding on a grassy
bank. In a small plot of ground underneath aro a
group of peasants about 12 in number, of all ages ;
and the soldiers are shooting them down in cold
blood, one by one ; their leader, Gen. Urban, looking
coldly on the murderous scene. It has all the har-
rowing effect of a picture of Niobe. The defenceless
boors throw themselves one before the other to retard
from a beloved object the fate which can be averted
from none of them. The old are struck dumb and
helpless ; the young, a youth 12 years of age, looks
up with good courage, his blood-stained hand rest-
ing on his chest, whence his life-blood is ebbing
fast. There is a heart-rending truth about the whole
scene, and the episode is too true; it is the most
wanton deed of atrocity perpetrated by the army of
Gyulai at the opening of the campaign, in the coun-
try of Voghera. King Victor Emmanuel stood be-
fore this piece of painted canvas a few days ago,

and his breast swelled with sobs as he gazed with
speechless horror at the ghastly spectacle, and as he
moved away he raised his forefinger at the picture
and shook it, and murmured in a half-audible tone,
" General Urban, you have paid dearly for this—
and all is not at an end yet."
There are works of rare merit by Rapisardi of
Catania, the " Court of the Emperor Frederick 11.,
with a Meeting of the first Italian Bands in Sicily,"
and perhaps a better picture by the same, " La
Gondola;"
an excellent one by Morades " Giulian
de Medici led by the Conspirators to the Cathedral;"
" Tasso, a Wanderer at his Sister's House at Sor-
rento," by Altamura of Naples;" a "Primavera,"
by De Sanctis of Rome, with fine tone of colouring;
a " Sant' Eligio," by Do Giovanni of Palermo—tile
head of the Saint, a work of transcendant beauty ;
Fieschi revealing his Conspiracy to his Wife," by
Gandolfi of Chiavari—a painting of great effect,
with showy accessories; a spirited battle•piece, by
Ademollo of Florence, representing the death of
Cairoli, with Garibaldi looking on with deep, well-
expressed concern. My attention was also claimed

by a " Maria di Sterne," by Appiani of Milan; by
an idealised portrait, the work of Anna Muschi of
Rome ;a " Pesti di Siena," by Nenci of Siena; a
full-length likeness of Carlo Troya, by his townsman
Altamura ; a picture of "lintoretti's Daughter on
her Deathbed," by Pagliano of Casale ; one of " Or-
landuccio del Leone," the well-known episode of the
Florentine mother rescuing her child from the jaws
of a lion, by Felchi of Florence ; a " Meeting of
Dante and Beatrice in the Streets of Florence," by
D'Ancona, a Florentine, who has ably rendered the
modest, dreamy, melancholy poet, shrinking, as it
were, from the greeting of the lovely being before
him, and the latter' walking past with a conscious
triumph in her look, followed by her two gentle-
women, whose pitying glance betoken all their sym-
pathy for that deep devotion which was to meet
with no reward on earth.

The best landscapes in oil are by Marko, an artist
of great merit, born in Hungary, but who has learnt
his art in the schools of Florence. I have not yet
looked into the rooms of watercolours and drawings.