her high notes in the _fiorituri_ only; if she possesses equal power
in the low notes a deep soprano part would suit her much better. Like
almost every singer we have yet heard in Italy she has the vice of
ornamenting too much, and does not know how to derive all the advantage
she might from her splendid voice. One hears very plainly, moreover,
that she does not draw in the least upon her own spontaneous feeling
and taste, but everything has been studied; so that her _fiorituri_,
which are repeated every evening, note for note, become so wearisome
that one cannot hear her again without repugnance. She was formerly a
dillettante, and only now sings in the third theatre; but nevertheless
she is already an excellent actress.
The ballet, which is given every evening between the two acts of the
opera, is the most splendid of any I have ever yet seen. I think it
is called “The Destruction of the Western Empire,” and is especially
remarkable for the constant introduction of great masses of persons on
the stage in full activity who form the boldest and most surprising
groups. It has been studied with extraordinary correctness, and is
performed every evening with the same precision. At the end a cavalry
engagement was represented, which however always looks somewhat stiff
and awkward.
November, 8.
Last evening our concert took place in the theatre _della Pergola_. The
Grand-duke, to whom I brought a letter from his brother _Rudolph_, and
who has received me several times very graciously at his residence,
honoured it with his presence, accompanied by his whole family. The
small though select auditory was very animated, and after having
greeted the Grand-duke with the usual recognitions, were not restrained
from a loud expression of applause of my performances. The music had
a very good effect in the spacious and sonorous theatre; but the
accompaniment was not of the best.--To-day I have received a great
number of invitations to give a second concert next week, from which
I am promised a better result. I shall make the venture, although the
Grand-duke, who goes to-morrow to Pisa to meet his brother _Rainer_,
will not be here. Yesterday’s concert, exclusive of the Archduke’s
present to me, did not bring in more than the evening’s expenses, which
were, as they always are, very considerable; the price of admission
being only three paoli, and all disposition over the sale of a single
box being again denied me. A very favorable notice of my concert
appeared this afternoon in the newspaper.
November, 12.
As we have now been several times to the picture-gallery, and
attentively observed all that it contains, I will commit to paper a
few words, not upon the truly splendid works of art which it contains,
for they have already been frequently and well described, but also the
expression of the impression which they made upon me. I must first of
all give due praise to the admirable custom, one by no means usual in
Italy, of admitting the public to the gallery free. At the entrance one
finds a notice in four or five languages, that the guardians of the
gallery are forbidden under the penalty of the loss of their situation,
to take the smallest present. Though perhaps they may not altogether
adhere too strictly to this injunction, one is at least fully secured
from the importunate begging, with which one is everywhere pursued in
Italy, and in this place, made sacred by art, gives oneself peacefully
up to the enjoyment.
To assist my memory hereafter I have sketched a plan of the gallery
and marked the position where the works of art stand which made the
greatest impression upon me. As I never make use either of a guide
or a book to find the objects worthy of observation in a city (I am
averse to all dictation as what I should admire, and never permit
myself to be deprived of the pleasure of finding for myself the works
of art in a gallery which are known to me by reputation), therefore
it is very possible that I have erred in many instances. On the first
day I looked for a long time and with attention at the works of art
which are in the gallery proper, before the apartments were opened in
which the _most choice_ are situated. I am even now glad I did so, as
afterwards, when I had seen the most perfect specimens of art, I could
never again remain for any length of time with the works exhibited in
the gallery. One exception to this was the _group of the Laocoon_,
which I always contemplated with renewed admiration. When the sanctuary
of art was thrown open we first beheld the celebrated _Medicean Venus_,
whose perfect and surpassingly beautiful form is yet more thrown out
by the large curtain of red-velvet suspended behind her. In the same
rotunda with her are the greatest master-pieces ever produced by the
chisel and by the brush: the _Apollo del Belvedere_[23] and _Raphael’s
St. John_. To contemplate and admire in these three works of art the
highest ideal of human beauty is an enjoyment quite peculiar in its
kind. After reiterated contemplation and long hesitation I gave the
palm for beauty to the _St. John_. Any thing more charming and at
the same time more noble than the whole form of this Youth cannot be
imagined by the most lively fancy. What may have contributed somewhat
to this decision on my part is the circumstance that the _Apollo_ as
well as the _Venus_ are of a three-quarter-life size, a proportion
which seems to be not quite happily chosen, as the figures being so
nearly the real size of life, always appear to be wanting in something,
which, if they were smaller, would not be the case. The _Apollo_ has
nevertheless a rather too feminine beauty, which not I alone, but my
wife also and several other persons present remarked. In this apartment
are numerous other master-pieces, among which a head by _Raphael_, the
_Venus_ of _Titian_; and a group of gladiators in marble, excited most
our admiration. Of the pictures arranged according to the schools in
the side apartments, the head of a female, by _Carlo Dolce_, pleased me
most; but one soon returns again to the gems of the whole collection.
On the other side of the building, in two apartments, is the collection
of Bronzes, among which the celebrated flying _Mercury_ excites the
most admiration. In another saloon is a collection of _Niobes_,
among which are some beautiful works of art. Besides these we saw
innumerable portraits of celebrated masters, for the most part painted
by themselves.
[23] This is the _Apollino_. _Spohr_ himself corrects this error at a
subsequent part of his narrative.
November 13.
Behind the residence of the Grand-duke is a large garden called, I
know not why, _Boboli_. It is open to all on Sundays and Fridays.
Last Sunday we went there for the second time, and afterwards heard
mass in the Court-chapel. The Grand-duke, who has a collection of
between three and four-hundred masses of celebrated masters of every
period, had given out upon this occasion one of _Michael Haydn’s_ for
performance; it was executed with tolerable precision, but it was found
necessary to play a very simple solo for the tenor-trumpet upon the
viol. The musicians asked me afterwards whether we had players on the
trumpet in Germany who could execute such soli as that!
Upon our way back our hired lacquey pointed out to us the covered
passage leading from the Grand-ducal residence to the water side,
which passes through several streets at a considerable height, and
after being carried across the river Arno over one of the bridges, and
through a few more streets, abuts at the government buildings in which
the gallery is also situated. This gallery, which is at least a quarter
of an hour’s walk in length, is used by the Grand-duke when in wet
weather he attends the sittings of the privy council.
November 15.
Our concert yesterday was not better attended than the first
and therefore brought in nothing. I am now convinced that an
instrumental-musician, even under the most favourable circumstances,
can earn nothing in Florence; for in the first place the Italians
esteem and like instrumental music too little, and in the second the
price of admission is much too low in proportion to the considerable
expenses. I must here observe, as somewhat worthy of note, that one
part of the orchestra, namely, all the violinists, took no payment,
which for people who must live from their daily earnings, and for
Italians who, wherever possible, extort three times the price of
every thing, is certainly very astonishing. For the rest, my play was
received with still greater applause yesterday than the first time.
Madame _Georgi_ sang exceedingly well the admired cavatina (sung
everywhere in Italy) in _Rossini’s_ “Tancredi,” with the following
theme:
[Music]
It was again to be deplored, that upon the return to the theme she
overwhelmed it with so much ornamentation that one could recognise
nothing of the original song. Signor _Sbigoli_, first tenor at the
_Pergolo_ theatre, who had also given his assistance at the first
concert, again sang two airs in a good style, and with much exertion,
but with little voice. He, like the singers in Venice and Milan who
sang at my concerts, required payment, but was satisfied with the very
moderate sum of a carolin for each concert.
This afternoon we, for a last excursion, strolled out to the
_Porta Romana_, to see the fresco-painting, so celebrated from
the circumstance which gave rise to it, and which adorns a small
mean-looking house there. The following is related concerning it: The
Medici had sent to Rome for the most famed masters of that time, to
paint, I believe, the chapel _al fresco_. The Florentine painters first
became informed of this upon the day previous to the arrival of the
strangers, and jealous of the preference which they had attained, they
resolved at least to shew them, that they were quite as well able to
execute the work, which they were sent for to perform. They combined
their abilities therefore, and in one night, by the light of torches,
painted this large fresco-picture, of which it is true but few traces
now remain, but which sufficiently attest the excellence of the work.
As the house on which this painting is executed, is so situated that it
must attract the immediate attention of all persons entering at this
gate, the foreign artists immediately observed the work, which had been
completed but a few hours before, and as modesty was not then so rare
among artists as it is in the present day, they immediately turned
back, and sent word to the Medici, that they could not understand why
they had been written for, since Florence produced artists who could
execute so admirable a work of art in the space of a single night, as
they had beheld. As a matter of course the work was then given to the
Florentines for execution.
We have fixed our departure for to-morrow. Some things of note, such
for example as the tomb of the Medici, which we have not yet been able
to see, we must defer until our return journey.
Rome, November 22.
We arrived at length last night, after a long and tedious journey, in
the former capital of the world. The journey was rendered tedious,
first by the slowness of our vetturino, the driver of which had taken
up, besides ourselves, who had hired the interior of his vehicle for
twelve Louisd’or (_inclusive_ of night lodgings and supper), three
other travellers in the so-called cabriolet, and therefore could only
drive at a walking pace, secondly, by reason of the raw weather and
the cold, which for Italy was very great, and against which so little
shelter is found at the inns where we stopped for the night, where the
windows and doors are always open a good hand’s breadth, the floors of
stone, and the generally very lofty rooms not to be warmed by a chimney
fire; thirdly, from the uninteresting and barren country through which
the road passes. One has the choice of two roads. The one longer, but
more interesting, by way of Perugia, a journey of seven days; the other
through Sienna of six days. We took the latter. As far as Sienna it is
not without interest, and it is a clean and a pretty town, which has
moreover the reputation that the purest Italian is spoken there. But
from there the road runs through numerous barren stretches of country.
Neither houses nor trees are to be seen, and now and then only the
melancholy testimonials of Roman justice, that is, high posts from
which are suspended the arms and legs of bandits and murderers. How in
a country whose soil yields without manure two harvests, one of corn
and the other of maize, men should be compelled by hunger to subsist
by robberies, is to me incomprehensible: but so it is. So long as corn
is in abundance, all the roads are safe, but when hunger pinches, the
sternest severity is unavailing. During the rule of the French knives
were forbidden to be carried on the person on pain of the galleys; if
any one drew a knife upon an opponent he was treated as a murderer
and hung without mercy. By such measures the public security was soon
re-established and for a long time one heard of no more assassinations.
Now, though certainly those regulations still exist, they are not
rigorously carried out: the previous insecurity prevails anew, and it
is not safe to venture alone into the more lonely streets of the city.
Before we could drive to an inn, we were obliged to proceed to the
custom-house, where our trunks and other luggage were inspected in the
closest manner. For my violon, although it is an old one and for my own
use, I was obliged to pay a duty of seven Paoli.
December 5.
[Music]
[Music]
This is the first music we heard in Rome, and since then have heard
it so frequently, that I have been enabled to write it down easily.
During the time of Advent, when all public music is forbidden, the
theatres closed, and a real deathlike stillness prevails, whole troops
of virtuosi on the bagpipe come from the Neapolitan territory, who play
first before the pictures of the Virgin and Saints, and then collect
in the houses and in the streets a _viaticum_, or travelling penny.
They generally go in pairs, one playing the bagpipe and the other the
shepherds-pipe. The music of all, with a few unimportant deviations,
is the same, and is said to have its origin in a very ancient sacred
melody; but from the way in which these people now play it, it sounds
profane enough. Heard at a certain distance it nevertheless does not
sound badly; the one who plays the bagpipe produces an effect somewhat
as though three clarinets were blown, he of the shepherds-pipe a sound
like that of a coarse powerful hautboy. The purity of the notes of the
bag-pipe and shepherds-pipe is very striking. Wherever one now goes, be
the part of the city which it may, one hears the above music.
Last Sunday Prince Frederick of Gotha took me to the famous Sestine
Chapel, where I for the first time saw the Pope, surrounded by all the
Cardinals in their fullest ecclesiastical splendour, and heard his
celebrated singers of the choir. Whether it is that I am differently
organized from other travellers, or that my expectations are always
too exalted from the perusal of books of travel, neither the music,
the place, nor the ecclesiastical ceremony pleased me, or impressed
me with awe. The singers of the choir were about thirty in number,
who comported themselves in a somewhat off-hand and uncouth manner.
The soprani, for the most part old men, frequently sang false, and
altogether the intonation was anything but pure. They commenced with
melodies for two voices of very ancient date, which were declaimed
by the singers rather than sung. Then followed some things for four
voices, written in a condensed style, and arranged for the voices to
fall in like in a catch. The composition of these seemed to me very
dignified, in the genuine old ecclesiastical style, and well calculated
for the place. The execution was correct, it is true, but, as we have
said, too coarse, and not better than most of our German choristers
could have sung the same kind of thing. Three and four-voiced soli
interchanged alternately with the choir; sometimes one heard also
the _crescendo_ effected by the gradual and successive entry of the
voices, and the _diminuendo_ produced by the inverse process, which in
the celebrated _Miserere_ on Good Fridays is said to have so charming
an effect. It had also a good effect to-day, but this can be equally
obtained from any well-practised choir. The place is indeed extremely
favorable to simple slow church music, as it is very sonorous and the
voices blend well with one another; but I know several churches in
Germany--for instance the castle chapel at Würzburg and the catholic
church at Dresden--where music sounds even better. I became also,
convinced anew, that vocal and instrumental music combined have a
much finer effect than vocal music alone, which, after all is always
somewhat monotonous, and, on account of its restricted limits, becomes
tedious. But in the papal chapel there is never any instrumental music,
being contrary to ecclesiastical etiquette. Lastly, as far as regards
the ceremonies, which, according to the accounts of travellers, are
on Good Friday of so elevating a character, and increase immensely
the effects of the music, this was by no means the case on Sunday;
on the contrary, many things took place which could not but appear
ridiculous to an unprejudiced spectator; for instance, the frequently
repeated removal, as though at the word of command, of the little
red caps of the cardinals, the clumsy awkwardness of several of their
attendants when carrying after them their long violet-coloured trains,
and on handing to them and again taking off their caps, etc. I also
felt indignant when I saw that the priests who read the mass, and the
preacher, before he ascended the pulpit, threw themselves upon their
knees before the Pope and kissed his red slipper; and how every time
previous thereto two assistants fell upon one knee, spread out his
capacious mantel and lifted his sacerdotal frock to enable him to raise
his foot for them to kiss. Neither did any of his assistants hand any
thing to him, not even his pocket handkerchief, without previously
kneeling before him. What is this but a degradation of humanity?
The celebrated “Last Judgement” of _Michael Angelo_, and all the other
fresco-paintings which decorate the chapel, have greatly suffered and
are much blackened with smoke. But one can still see sufficient of the
former, which covers the whole wall behind the altar, to admire the
grandeur of the composition and the masterly touch of the artist in the
execution.
After the mass the sacrament was presented to the Pope and all the
Cardinals in the Pauline Chapel, which, illuminated by innumerable
tapers, presented when first seen an imposing spectacle. As we got
there first, we heard the chaunt of the choristers who walked at the
head of the procession, approach by degrees nearer and nearer, which
produced a fine _crescendo_. A silent prayer, during which all present
remained kneeling, here closed the ceremony.
In Rome there are two private musical réunions: one, a kind of singing
academy, takes place every Thursday at the house of its institutor,
_Sirletti_, a teacher of singing and of the piano-forte. From thirty
to five-and-thirty singers, mostly dilettanti, meet here, some of whom
have very fine voices, as, for example, Madame _Vera_ (née _Häser_) and
the tenor, Signor _Moncade_. Up till now we have been there twice. The
first day, in compliment to us Germans, they gave _Mozart’s_ Requiem,
and that very powerfully and purely; all the soli and the quartet
were especially well sung. Madame _Vera_ with her splendid sonorous
organ, her firm intonation, and her fine management of the voice, sang
her part in an irreproachable manner. The grand and very difficult
fugue was in particular sung purely and well. The only disturbing
influence upon the execution, which otherwise would have afforded us
great enjoyment, was signor _Sirletti’s_ pianoforte accompaniment from
the score. It is true we ought not to have expected better; for where
should an _Italian_ teacher of singing and pianoforte get a knowledge
of harmony sufficient to read and play correctly a score of _Mozart’s_?
But as his deep (!) knowledge of harmony had been greatly extolled to
me previously, I had certainly expected something better. He struck
some such barbarous harmonies at times, that, could _Mozart_ have heard
him, he would have turned round in his grave. After the Requiem they
sang a piece of _Händel’s_ hitherto unknown to me, and, for the finale,
the Halleluja; the latter in particular was powerfully and purely sung.
On the previous Thursday they had sung some of _Marcello’s_ Psalms,
for two and three voices. These Psalms, which the Italians consider
classic master-pieces, and of which some years since a fine edition
was published with long commentaries on the particular beauties of
each Psalm, pleased me very well, but I did not find anything so
very particular in them; on the contrary, I am persuaded, although
I am not very familiar with the German works in this style, that we
have compositions of the kind by _Bach_ and others which are greatly
superior to them. They appear to me, particularly in the form, to have
been carelessly constructed, they deviate frequently for a length of
time from the chief key, and then close immediately after the return to
the tonic in a very unsatisfactory manner. Those for three voices begin
generally with soprano and tenor, and the bass first enters with the
repeat; but this third voice was never essential, and always sounded
like an orchestral fundamental bass; there were however some among
them in which the voices took up their parts as in a canon, and these
were very remarkable. Nevertheless, on the whole, the part-writing and
modulation were very monotonous, and the same intrate and appoggiaturas
recurred in all. Signor _Sirletti’s_ accompaniment was again also very
disturbing in these Psalms, and particularly unpleasant to me was an
impurity of some of the full chords, which in these simple three-voiced
things was still more out of place. With that, like all Italians whom
I have yet heard accompany, he has the execrable fashion practice of
doubling the bass notes with the right hand, which with some accords,
for instance 6/5 accords, sounds quite unbearable with the leading
tone. That moreover, by this method octaves must arise in the solution,
does not appear to trouble the Signori, nor are their ears offended by
it. To me it was also exceedingly displeasing that some Germans who
were present seemed so much delighted. What is the meaning of these
grimaces? The Italians really might be induced to believe that we have
never heard any thing so good in Germany. When will Germans cease to be
the blind admirers and the apes of foreigners!
The other private musical réunion takes place every Monday, at the home
of Signor _Ruffini_, the proprietor of the great manufactory of strings
for instruments. Here operas are executed also by dilettanti as concert
music, before an auditory of from 200 to 250 persons. The singers stand
upon a slightly raised platform, and the orchestra, consisting of four
violins, viol, violincello, double bass, two clarinets, two horns,
and a bassoon, is disposed round them in a semi-circle on the level
floor. Last Monday, when Prince Frederick took us there, an old _opera
buffo_ of _Paisiello_ was given. The selection was certainly not the
best concert music. The music of a comic opera can alone be produced
with the desired effect upon the stage, combined with the proper action
which belongs to it; but apart from that, this one appeared to me
somewhat insipid. The execution both on the part of the singers and
the orchestra, was equally bad; Signor _Moncade_, with his splendid
tenor voice, was the only one worthy of remark. Between the two acts
a dilettante executed the first Allegro of a clarinet concerto with
much ability and a tolerably good tone, but without the least taste. He
was another illustration of a remark I have already made, that Italian
virtuosi and dilettanti direct their whole attention to the acquirement
of mechanical skill, but as far as regards a tasteful style of
execution, they form themselves very little after the good models which
their best singers might be to them; while our German instrumentalists
generally possess a very cultivated style and much feeling, which,
without taking pattern of any one, they must find in themselves.
December 7.