ALBANO--POPULAR SINGING--LETTERS FROM MRS.
SOMERVILLE--GIBSON--PERUGIA--COMET OF 1843--SUMMER AT VENICE--LETTERS
FROM MRS. SOMERVILLE AND MISS JOANNA BAILLIE--ELECTED ASSOCIATE OF THE
COLLEGE OF RESURGENTI AND R.I. ACADEMY OF SCIENCE AT AREZZO.
In spring we went to Albano, and lived in a villa, high up on the hill
in a beautiful situation not far from the lake. The view was most
extensive, commanding the whole of the Campagna as far as Terracina, &c.
In this wide expanse we could see the thunderclouds forming and rising
gradually over the sky before the storm, and I used to watch the vapour
condensing into a cloud as it rose into the cool air. I never witnessed
anything so violent as the storms we had about the equinox, when the
weather broke up. Our house being high above the plain became enveloped
in vapour till, at 3 p.m. we could scarcely see the olives which grew
below our windows, and crash followed crash with no interval between the
lightning and the thunder, so that we felt sure many places must have
been struck; and we were not mistaken--trees, houses, and even cattle
had been struck close to us. Somerville went to Florence to attend a
scientific meeting, and wrote to us that the lightning there had
stripped the gold leaf off the conductors on the powder magazine; a
proof of their utility.
The sunsets were glorious, and I, fascinated by the gorgeous colouring,
attempted to paint what Turner alone could have done justice to. I made
studies, too, which were signal failures, of the noble ilex trees
bordering the lake of Albano. Thus I wasted a great deal of time, I can
hardly say in vain, from the pleasure I had in the lovely scenery.
Somerville sat often by me with his book, while I painted from nature,
or amused himself examining the geological structure of the country. Our
life was a solitary one, except for the occasional visit from some
friends who were at Frascati; but we never found it dull; besides, we
made many expeditions on mules or donkeys to places in the
neighbourhood. I was very much delighted with the flora on the Campagna
and the Alban hills, which in spring and early summer are a perfect
garden of flowers. Many plants we cultivate in England here grow wild in
profusion, such as cyclamens, gum-cistus, both white and purple, many
rare and beautiful orchideæ, the large flowering Spanish broom,
perfuming the air all around, the tall, white-blossomed Mediterranean
heath, and the myrtle. These and many others my girls used to bring in
from their early morning walks. The flowers only lasted till the end of
June, when the heat began, and the whole country became brown and
parched; but scarcely had the autumnal rains commenced, when, like
magic, the whole country broke out once more into verdure, and myriads
of cyclamens covered the ground. Nightingales abounded in the woods,
singing both by night and by day; and one bright moonlight night my
daughters, who slept with their window open, were startled from their
sleep by the hooting of one of those beautiful birds, the great-eared
owl--"le grand duc" of Buffon--which had settled on the railing of their
balcony. We constantly came across snakes, generally harmless ones; but
there were a good many vipers, and once, when Somerville and my
daughters, with Mr. Cromek, the artist, had gone from Genzano to Nettuno
for a couple of days, a small asp which was crawling among the
bent-grass on the seashore, darted at one of the girls, who had
irritated it by touching it with her parasol. By the natives they are
much dreaded, both on this coast and in the pine forest of Ravenna,
where the cattle are said to be occasionally poisoned by their bite.
* * * * *
We had been acquainted with the Rev. Dr., afterwards Cardinal Wiseman at
Rome. He was head of a college of young men educating for the Catholic
Church, who had their "villeggiatura" at Monte Porzio. We spent a day
with him there, and visited Tusculum; another day we went to Lariccia,
where there is a palace and park belonging to the Chigi family in a most
picturesque but dilapidated state. We went also to Ganzano, Rocca del
Papa, and occasionally to visit frends at Frascati. There was a stone
threshing-floor behind our house. During the vintage we had it nicely
swept and lighted with torches, and the grape gatherers came and danced
till long after midnight, to the great amusement of my daughters, who
joined in the dance, which was the Saltarello, a variety of the
Tarantella. They danced to the beating of tambourines. Italy is the
country of music, especially of melody, and the popular airs, especially
the Neapolitan, are extremely beautiful and melodious; yet it is a fact,
that the singing of the peasantry, particularly in the Roman and
Neapolitan provinces, is most disagreeable and discordant. It is not
melody at all, but a kind of wild chant, meandering through minor tones,
without rhythm of any sort or apparent rule, and my daughters say it is
very difficult to note down; yet there is some kind of method and
similarity in it as one hears it shouted out at the loudest pitch of the
voice, the last note dwelt upon and drawn out to an immeasurable length.
The words are frequently improvised by the singers, who answer one
another from a distance, as they work in the fields. I have been told
this style of chanting--singing it can hardly be called--has been handed
down from the most ancient times, and it is said, in the southern
provinces, to have descended from the early Greek colonists. The ancient
Greeks are supposed to have chanted their poetry to music, as do the
Italian improvisatori at the present day. In Tuscany, the words of the
songs are often extremely poetical and graceful. Frequently, these
verses, called "stornelli" and "rispetti," are composed by the peasants
themselves, women as well as men; the language is the purest and most
classical Italian, such as is spoken at the present day in the provinces
of Siena, Pistoja, &c., very much less corrupted by foreign idioms or
adaptations than what is spoken, even by cultivated persons, in Florence
itself. The picturesque costumes so universal when I first came to
Italy, in 1817, had fallen very much into disuse when, at a much later
period, we resided in Rome, and now they are rarely seen.
We hired a handsome peasant girl from Albano as housemaid, who was much
admired by our English friends in her scarlet cloth bodice, trimmed with
gold lace, and the silver spadone, or bodkin, fastening her plaits of
dark hair; but she very soon exchanged her picturesque costume for a
bonnet, etc., in which she looked clumsy and commonplace.
[The following are extracts from letters written from Albano by my
mother:--]
FROM MRS. SOMERVILLE TO HER SON W. GREIG, ESQ.
ALBANO, _16th June, 1841_.
I was thankful to hear, my dearest Woronzow, from your last letter
that Agnes is recovering so well.... We are very much pleased with
our residence at Albano; the house, with its high sounding name of
"Villa," is more like a farmhouse, with brick floors and no carpets,
and a few chairs and tables, but the situation is divine. We are
near the top of the hill, about half-a-mile above Albano, and have
the most magnificent view in every direction, and such a variety of
delightful walks, that we take a new one every evening. For painting
it is perfect; every step is a picture. At present we have no one
near, and lead the life of hermits; but our friends have loaded us
with books, and with drawing, painting, music, and writing, we never
have a moment idle. Almost every one has left Rome; but the English
have all gone elsewhere, as they are not so easily pleased with a
house as we are. The only gay thing we have done was a donkey ride
yesterday to the top of Monte Cavo, and back by the lake of Nemi....
* * * * *
FROM MRS. SOMERVILLE TO WORONZOW GREIG, ESQ.
ALBANO, _20th August, 1841_.
I dare say you think it very long since you have heard from me, my
dearest Woronzow, but the truth is, I have been writing so hard,
that after I had finished my day's work, I was fit for nothing but
idleness. The reason of my hurry is, that the scientific meeting
takes place at Florence on the 15th of September, and as I think it
probable that some of our English philosophers will come to it, I
hope to have a safe opportunity of sending home some MS. which it
has cost me hard work to get ready, as I have undertaken a book more
fit for the combination of a Society than for a single hand to
accomplish. Lord Brougham was most kind when at Rome, and took so
great an interest in it, that he has, undertaken to read it over,
and give me his opinion and criticism, which will be very valuable,
as I know no one who is a better judge of these matters. He will
send it to Mr. Murray, and you had better consult with him about it,
whether he thinks it will succeed or not. Both William and Martha
like what I have done; but I am very nervous about it, and wish you
would read it if you have time.... We have been extremely quiet all
the summer; we have no neighbours, so that we amuse ourselves with
our occupations. I get up between six and seven, breakfast at eight,
and write till three, when we dine; after dinner, I write again till
near six, when we go out and take a long walk; come home to tea at
nine, and go to bed at eleven: the same thing day after day, so you
cannot expect a very amusing letter.... I have another commission I
wish you would do for me; it is to inquire what discoveries Captain
Ross has made at the South Pole. I saw a very interesting account in
"Galignani" of what they have done, but cannot trust to a newspaper
account so as to quote it.
* * * * *
A new edition of my "Physical Sciences" was required, so the "Physical
Geography" was laid aside for the present. On returning to Rome, we
resumed our usual life, and continued to receive our friends in the
evening without ceremony. There was generally a merry party round the
tea table in a corner of the room. I cannot omit mentioning one of the
most charming and intellectual of our friends, Don Michelangelo Gaetani,
Duke of Sermoneta, whose brilliant and witty conversation is unrivalled,
and for whom I have had a very sincere friendship for many years. I
found him lately as charming as ever, notwithstanding the cruel loss of
his sight. The last time I ever dined out was at his house at Rome, when
I was on my way to Naples in 1867.
* * * * *
John Gibson, the sculptor, the most guileless and amiable of men, was
now a dear friend. His style was the purest Grecian, and had some of
his works been found among the ruins, multitudes would have come to Rome
to admire them. He was now in the height of his fame; yet he was so kind
and encouraging to young people that he allowed my girls to go and draw
in his studio, and one of my daughters, with a friend, modelled there
for some time. His drawings for bas-reliefs were most beautiful. He drew
very slowly, but a line once drawn was never changed. He ignored
India-rubber or bread-crumbs, so perfect was his knowledge of anatomy,
and so decided the character and expression he meant to give.
We had charades one evening in a small theatre in our house, which went
off very well There was much beauty at Rome at that time; no one who was
there can have forgotten the beautiful and brilliant Sheridans. I
recollect Lady Dufferin at the Easter ceremonies at St. Peter's, in her
widow's cap, with a large black crape veil thrown over it, creating
quite a sensation. With her exquisite features, oval face, and somewhat
fantastical head-dress, anything more lovely could not be conceived; and
the Roman people crowded round her in undisguised admiration of "la
bella monaca Inglese." Her charm of manner and her brilliant
conversation will never be forgotten by those who knew her. To my mind,
Mrs. Norton was the most beautiful of the three sisters. Hers is a
grand countenance, such as artists love to study. Gibson, whom I asked,
after his return from England, which he had revisited after twenty-seven
years' absence, what he thought of Englishwomen, replied, he had seen
many handsome women, but no such sculptural beauty as Mrs. Norton's. I
might add the Marchioness of Waterford, whose bust at Macdonald's I took
at first for an ideal head, till I recognised the likeness.
Lady Davy used to live a great deal at Rome, and took an active part in
society. She talked a great deal, and talked well when she spoke
English, but like many of us had more pretension with regard to the
things she could not do well than to those she really could. She was a
Latin scholar, and as far as reading and knowing the literature of
modern languages went she was very accomplished, but unfortunately, she
fancied she spoke them perfectly, and was never happier than when she
had people of different nations dining with her, each of whom she
addressed in his own language. Many amusing mistakes of hers in speaking
Italian were current in both Roman and English circles.
* * * * *
A few months were very pleasantly spent one summer at Perugia, where
there is so much that is interesting to be seen. The neighbouring
country is very beautiful, and the city being on the top of a hill is
very cool during the hot weather. We had an apartment in the Casa
Oddi-Baglioni--a name well known in Italian history--and I recollect
spending some very pleasant days with the Conte Oddi-Baglioni, at a
villa called Colle del Cardinale, some ten or twelve miles from the
town. The house was large and handsomely decorated, with a profusion of
the finest Chinese vases. On our toilet tables were placed perfumes,
scented soap, and very elaborately embroidered nightdresses were laid
out for use. I remember especially admiring the basins, jugs, &c., which
were all of the finest japan enamel. There was a subterranean apartment
where we dined, which was delightfully cool and pleasant, and at a large
and profusely served dinner-table, while we and the guests with the
owner of the house dined at the upper end, at the lower end and below
the salt there were the superintendent of the Count's farms, a house
decorator and others of that rank. It is not the only instance we met
with of this very ancient custom. The first time Somerville and I came
to Italy, years before this, while dining at a very noble house, the
wetnurse took her place, as a matter of course, at the foot of the
dinner-table.
On the morning after our arrival and at a very early hour there was a
very fine eclipse of the sun, though not total at Perugia or the
neighbourhood; the chill and unnatural gloom were very striking.
Perugia is one of the places in which the ancient athletic game of
_pallone_ is played with spirit. It is so graceful when well played that
I wonder our active young men have not adopted it. A large leather ball
filled with condensed air is struck and returned again by the opponent
with the whole force of their right arms, covered to the elbow with a
spiked wooden case. The promptness and activity required to keep up the
ball is very great, and the impetus with which it strikes is such, that
the boxes for spectators in the amphitheatres dedicated to this game are
protected by strong netting. It is a very complicated game, and, I am
told, somewhat resembles tennis.
* * * * *
On leaving Perugia we went for a few days to Asissi, spent a day at
Chiusi, and then returned to Rome, which we found in a great state of
excitement on account of three steamers which had just arrived from
England to ply on the Tiber. The Pope and Cardinals made a solemn
procession to bless them. No doubt they would have thought our method of
dashing a bottle of wine on a vessel on naming her highly profane.
We constantly made expeditions to the country, to Tivoli, Veii, Ostia,
&c., and my daughters rode on the Campagna. One day they rode to Albano,
and on returning after dark they told me they had seen a most curious
cloud which never altered its position; it was a very long narrow stripe
reaching from the horizon till nearly over head--it was the tail of the
magnificent comet of 1843.
We met with a great temptation in an invitation from Lady Stratford
Canning, to go and visit them at Buyukdéré, near Constantinople, but
_res arcta_ prevented us from accepting what would have been so
desirable in every respect. At this time I sat to our good friend Mr.
Macdonald for my bust, which was much liked.[13]
* * * * *
One early summer we went to Loreto and Ancona, where we embarked for
Trieste; the weather seemed fine when we set off, but a storm came on,
with thunder and lightning, very high sea and several waterspouts. The
vessel rolled and pitched, and we were carried far out of our course to
the Dalmatian coast. I was obliged to remain a couple of days at Trieste
to rest, and was very glad when we arrived at Venice. The summer passed
most delightfully at Venice, and we had ample time to see everything
without hurry. I wrote very little this summer, for the scenery was so
beautiful that I painted all day; my daughters drew in the Belle Arti,
and Somerville had plenty of books to amuse him, besides sight-seeing,
which occupied much of our time. In the Armenian convent we met with
Joseph Warten, an excellent mathematician and astronomer; he was pastor
at Neusatz, near Peterwardein in Hungary, and he was making a tour
through Europe. He asked me to give him a copy of the "Mechanism of the
Heavens," and afterwards wrote in Latin to Somerville and sent me some
errors of the press he had met with in my book, but they were of no use,
as I never published a second edition. We returned to Rome by Ravenna,
where we stayed a couple of days, then travelled slowly along the
Adriatic Coast From thence we went by Gubbio and Perugia to Orvieto, one
of the most interesting towns in Italy, and one seldom visited at that
time; now the railway will bring it into the regular track of
travellers.
* * * * *
[A few extracts from letters, written and received during this
summer by my mother, may not be without interest. Also parts of two
from my mother's old and valued friend Miss Joanna Baillie. The
second letter was written several years later, and is nearly the
last she ever wrote to my mother.]
* * * * *
FROM MRS. SOMERVILLE TO WORONZOW GREIG, ESQ.
VENICE, _21st July, 1843_.
I most sincerely rejoice to hear that Agnes and you have gone to the
Rhine, as I am confident a little change of air and scene will be of
the greatest service to you both.... We are quite enchanted with
Venice; no one can form an idea of its infinite loveliness who has
not seen it in summer and in moonlight. I often doubt my senses, and
almost fear it may be a dream. We are lodged to perfection, the
weather has been charming, no oppressive heat, though the
thermometer ranges from 75° to 80°, accompanied by a good deal of
scirocco; there are neither flies nor fleas, and as yet the
mosquitoes have not molested us. We owe much of our comfort to the
house we are in, for there are scarcely any furnished lodgings, and
the hotels are bad and dear, besides situation is everything at this
season, when the smaller canals become offensive at low water, for,
though there is little tide in the Mediterranean, there are four
feet at new and full moon here, which is a great blessing. We have
now seen everything, and have become acquainted with everybody, and
met with kindness and attention beyond all description. Many of the
great ducal families still exist, and live handsomely in their
splendid palaces; indeed, the decay of Venice, so much talked of, is
quite a mistake; certainly it is very different from what it was in
its palmy days, but there is a good deal of activity and trade. The
abolition of the law of primogeniture has injured the noble
families more than anything else. We rise early, and are busy
indoors all morning, except the girls, who go to the Academy of the
_Belle Arti_, and paint from ten till three. We dine at four, and
embark in our gondola at six or seven, and row about on the glassy
sea till nine, when we go to the Piazza of San Marco, listen to a
very fine military band, and sit gossiping till eleven or twelve,
and then row home by the Grand Canal, or make a visit in one of the
various houses that are open to us. One of the most remarkable of
these is that of the Countess Mocenigo's, who has in one of her
drawing-rooms the portraits of six doges of the Mocenigo name. I was
presented by her to the Duc de Bordeaux, the other evening, a fat
good-natured looking person. I was presented also to the Archduke--I
forget what--son of the Archduke Charles, and admiral of the fleet
here; a nice youth, but not clever. We meet him everywhere, and
Somerville dined with him a few days ago. The only strangers of note
are the Prince of Tour and Taxis, and Marshal Marmont. The Venetian
ladies are very ladylike and agreeable, and speak beautifully. We
have received uncommon kindness from Mr. Rawdon Brown; he has made
us acquainted with everybody, as he is quite at home here, having
been settled in Venice for several years, and has got a most
beautiful house fitted up, in _rococo_ style, with great taste; he
is an adept at Venetian history. He supplies us with books, which
are a great comfort.... The other evening we were surprised by a
perfect fleet of gondolas stopping under our windows, from one of
which we had the most beautiful serenade; the moonlight was like
day, and the effect was admirable. There was a _festa_ the other
night in a church on the water's edge; the shore was illuminated
and hundreds of gondolas were darting along like swallows, the
gondoliers rowing as if they had been mad, till the water was as
much agitated as if there had been a gale of wind: nothing could be
more animated. You will perceive from what I have said that the
evening, till a late hour, is the time for amusement, in consequence
of which I follow the Italian custom of sleeping after dinner, and
am much the better for it. This place agrees particularly well with
all of us, and is well suited for old people, who require air
without fatigue....
Most affectionately,
MARY SOMERVILLE.
* * * * *
FROM MRS. SOMERVILLE TO WORONZOW GREIG, ESQ.
VENICE, _27th August, 1843_.
MY DEAR WORONZOW,
Your excellent letter, giving an account of your agreeable
expedition up the Rhine, did not arrive till nearly a month after it
was written.... I regret exceedingly you could not stay longer, and
still more that you could not come on and pay us a visit, and enjoy
the charm of summer in Venice, so totally unlike every other place
in every respect. I wished for you last night particularly. As we
were leaving the Piazza San Marco, about eleven, a boat came up,
burning blue lights, with a piano, violins, flutes, and about twenty
men on board, who sang choruses in the most delightful manner, and
sometimes solos. They were followed by an immense number of
gondolas, and we joined the _cortège_, and all went under the Bridge
of Sighs, where the effect was beautiful beyond description. We then
all turned and entered the Grand Canal, which was entirely filled
with gondolas from one side to the other, jammed together, so that
we moved _en masse_, and stopped every now and then to burn blue or
red Bengal lights before the principal palaces, singing going on all
the while. We saw numbers of our Venetian friends in their gondolas,
enjoying the scene as much as we did, to whom it was almost new. I
never saw people who enjoyed life more, and they have much the
advantage of us in their delicious climate and aquatic amusements,
so much more picturesque than what can be done on land. However, we
have had no less than three dances lately. The Grand Duke of Modena,
with his son and daughter-in-law, were here, and to them a _fête_
was given by the Countess de Thurn. The palace was brilliant with
lights; it is on the grand canal, and immediately under the balcony
was a boat from which fireworks were let off, and then a couple of
boats succeeded them, in which choruses were sung. The view from the
balcony is one of the finest in Venice, and the night was charming,
and there I was while the dancing went on.... I never saw Somerville
so well; this place suits us to the life, constant air and no
fatigue; I never once have had a headache.... Now, my dear W., tell
me your tale; my tale is done.
Yours affectionately,
MARY SOMERVILLE.
* * * * *
FROM MRS. SOMERVILLE TO WORONZOW GREIG, ESQ.
ROME, PALAZZO LEPRI, VIA DEI CONDOTTI, _27th October, 1848_.
MY DEAREST WORONZOW,
... We had a beautiful journey to Rome, with fine weather and no
annoyance, notwithstanding the disturbed state of the country. At
Padua we only remained long enough to see the churches, and it was
impossible to pass within a few miles of Arquà without paying a
visit to the house of Petrarch. At Ferrara we had a letter to the
Cardinal Legate, who was very civil. His palace is the ancient abode
of the house of Este.... We had a long visit from him in the
evening, and found him most agreeable; he regretted that there was
no opera, as he would have been happy to offer us his box. Fourteen
of those unfortunate men who have been making an attempt to raise an
insurrection were arrested the day before; and the night before we
slept at Lugo, the Carabineers had searched the inn during the
night, entering the rooms where the people were sleeping. We should
have been more than surprised to have been wakened by armed men at
midnight. In travelling through Italy the _reliques_ and history of
the early Christians and of the Middle Ages have a greater
attraction for me than those of either the Romans or Etruscans,
interesting though these latter be, and in this journey my taste was
amply gratified, especially at Ravenna, where the church of San
Vitale and the Basilica of St. Apollinare in Classis, both built
early in the 6th century, are the most magnificent specimens
imaginable. Here also is the tomb of Theodore, a most wonderful
building; the remains of his palace and numberless other objects of
interest, too tedious to mention. Every church is full of them, and
most valuable MSS. abound in the libraries. I like the history of
the Middle Ages, because one feels that there is something in common
between them and us; their names still exist in their descendants,
who often inhabit the very palaces they dwelt in, and their very
portraits, by the great masters, still hang in their halls; whereas
we know nothing about the Greeks and Romans except their public
deeds--their private life is a blank to us. Our journey through the
Apennines was most beautiful, passing for days under the shade of
magnificent oak forests or valleys rich in wine, oil, grain, and
silk. We deviated from the main road for a short distance to Gubbio,
to see the celebrated Eugubian tables, which are as sharp as if they
had been engraved yesterday, but in a lost language. We stopped to
rest at Perugia, but all our friends were at their country seats,
which we regretted. The country round Perugia is unrivalled for
richness and beauty, but it rained the morning we resumed our
journey. It signified the less as we had been previously at Città
della Pieve and Chiusi; so we proceeded to Orvieto in fine weather,
still through oak forests. Orvieto is situated on the top of an
escarped hill, very like the hill forts of India, and apparently as
inaccessible; yet, by dint of numberless turns and windings, we did
get up, but only in time for bed. Next morning we saw the sun rise
on the most glorious cathedral. After all we had seen we were
completely taken by surprise, and were filled with the highest
admiration at the extreme beauty and fine taste of this remarkable
building....
Your affectionate mother,
MARY SOMERVILLE.
* * * * *
FROM MISS JOANNA BAILLIE TO MRS. SOMERVILLE
HAMPSTEAD, _December 27th, 1843_.
MY DEAR MRS. SOMERVILLE,
Besides being proud of receiving a letter from you, I was much
pleased to know that I am, though at such a distance, sometimes in
your thoughts. I was much pleased, too, with what you have said of
the health and other gratifications you enjoy in Italy. I should
gladly have thanked you at the time, had I known how to address my
letter; and after receiving your proper direction from our friend
Miss Montgomery, I have been prevented from using it by various
things.... But though so long silent I have not been ungrateful, and
thank you with all my heart. The account you give of Venice is very
interesting. There is something affecting in still seeing the
descendants of the former Doges holding a diminished state in their
remaining palaces with so much courtesy. I am sure you have found
yourself a guest in their saloons, hung with paintings of their
ancestors, with very mixed feelings. However, Venice to the eye, as
you describe it, is Venice still; and with its lights at night
gleaming upon the waters makes a very vivid picture to my fancy. You
no doubt have fixed it on canvas, and can carry it about with you
for the delight of your friends who may never see the original.
In return to your kind inquiries after us, I have, all things
considered, a very good account to give. Ladies of four score and
upwards cannot expect to be robust, and need not be gay. We sit by
the fire-side with our books (except when those plaguy notes are to
be written) and receive the visits of our friendly neighbours very
contentedly, and, I ought to say, and trust I may say, very
thankfully.... This morning brought one in whom I feel sure that you
and your daughters take some interest, Maria Edgeworth. She has been
dangerously ill, but is now nearly recovered, and is come from
Ireland to pass the winter months with her sisters in London: weak
in body, but the mind as clear and the spirits as buoyant as ever.
You will be glad to hear that she even has it in her thoughts to
write a new work, and has the plan of it nearly arranged. There will
be nothing new in the story itself, but the purpose and treating of
it will be new, which is, perhaps, a better thing. In our retired
way of living, we know little of what goes on in the literary
world.... I was, however, in town for a few hours the other day, and
called upon a lady of rank who has _fashionable_ learned folks
coming about her, and she informed me that there are new ideas
regarding philosophy entertained in the world, and that Sir John
Herschel was now considered as a slight, second-rate man, or person.
Who are the first-rate she did not say, and, I suppose, you will not
be much mortified to hear that your name was not mentioned at all.
So much for our learning. My sister was much disappointed the other
day when, in expectation of a ghost story from Mr. Dickens, she only
got a grotesque moral allegory; now, as she delights in a ghost and
hates an allegory, this was very provoking.
Believe me,
My dear Mrs. Somerville,
Yours with admiration and esteem,
J. BAILLIE.
* * * * *
FROM MISS JOANNA BAILLIE TO MRS. SOMERVILLE
HAMPSTEAD, _January 9th, 1851_.
MY DEAR FRIEND,
My dear Mary Somerville, whom I am proud to call my friend, and that
she so calls me. I could say much on this point, but I dare not. I
received your letter from Mr. Greig last night, and thank you very
gratefully. If my head were less confused I should do it better, but
the pride I have in thinking of you as philosopher and a woman
cannot be exceeded. I shall read your letter many times over. My
sister and myself at so great an age are waiting to be called away
in mercy by an Almighty Father, and we part with our earthly friends
as those whom we shall meet again. My great monster book is now
published, and your copy I shall send to your son who will peep into
it, and then forward it to yourself. I beg to be kindly and
respectfully remembered to your husband; I offer my best wishes to
your daughters....
Yours, my dear Friend,
Very faithfully,
JOANNA BAILLIE.
My sister begs of you and all your family to accept her best wishes.
* * * * *
FROM SIR JOHN HERSCHEL TO MRS. SOMERVILLE.
_18th March, 1844._
MY DEAR MRS. SOMERVILLE,
To have received a letter from you so long ago, and not yet to have
thanked you for it, is what I could hardly have believed myself--if
the rapid lapse of time in the uniform retirement in which we live
were not pressed upon me in a variety of ways which convince me that
as a man grows older, his sand, as the grains get low in the glass,
slips through more glibly, and steals away with accelerated speed. I
wish I could either send you a copy of my Cape observations, or tell
you they are published or even in the press. Far from it--I do not
expect to "go to press" before another year has elapsed, for though
I have got my catalogues of Southern nebulæ and Double stars reduced
and arranged, yet there is a great deal of other matter still to be
worked through, and I have every description of reduction entirely
to execute myself. These are very tedious, and I am a very slow
computer, and have been continually taken off the subject by other
matter, forced upon me by "pressure from without." What I am now
engaged on is the monograph of the _principal_ Southern Nebulæ, the
object of which is to put on record every ascertainable particular
of their actual appearance and the stars visible in them, so as to
satisfy future observers whether _new stars_ have appeared, or
changes taken place in the nebulosity. To what an extent this work
may go you may judge from the fact that the catalogue of visible
stars actually mapped down in their places within the space of less
than a square degree in the nebula about [Greek: ê] Argus which I have
just completed comprises between 1300 and 1400 stars. This is indeed a
stupendous object. It is a vastly extensive branching and looped
nebula, in the centre of the densest part of which is [Greek: ê] Argus,
itself a most remarkable star, seeing that from the fourth magnitude
which it had in Ptolemy's time, it has risen (by _sudden starts_,
and not gradually) to such a degree of brilliancy as _now_ actually
to surpass Canopus, and to be second only to Sirius. One of these
_leaps_ I myself witnessed when in the interval of ceasing to
observe it in one year, and resuming its observation in two or three
months after in the next, it had sprung over the heads of _all the
stars of the first_ magnitude, from Fomalhaut and Regulus (the two
least of them) to [Greek: a] Centauri, which it then just equalled, and
which is the brightest of all but Canopus and Sirius! It has since
made a fresh jump--and who can say it will be the last?
One of the most beautiful objects in the southern hemisphere is a
pretty large, perfectly round, and very well-defined planetary nebula,
of a fine, full _independent_ blue colour--the only object I have ever
seen in the heavens fairly entitled to be called _independently_ blue,
_i.e._, not by contrast. Another superb and most striking object is
Lacaille's 30 Doradus, a nebula of great size in the larger nubicula,
of which it is impossible to give a better idea than to compare it to a
"true lover's knot," or assemblage of nearly circular nebulous loops
uniting in a centre, in or near which is an exactly circular round dark
hole. Neither this nor the nebula about [Greek: ê] Argus have any, the
slightest, resemblance to the representations given of them by
Dunlop.... As you are so kind as to offer to obtain information on any
points interesting to me at Rome, here is one on which I earnestly
desire to obtain the means of forming a correct opinion, _i.e._, the
_real_ powers and merits of De Vico's great refractor at the Collegio
Romano. De Vico's accounts of it appear to me to have not a little of
the extra-marvellous in them. Saturn's _two_ close satellites regularly
observed--eight stars in the trapezium of Orion! [Greek: a] Aquilæ (as
Schumacher inquiringly writes to me) divided into three! the
supernumerary divisions of Saturn's ring well seen, &c., &c. And all by
a Cauchoix refractor of eight inches? I fear me that these wonders are
not for _female eyes_, the good monks are too well aware of the
penetrating qualities of such optics to allow them entry within the
seven-fold walls of their Collegio. Has Somerville ever looked through
it? On his report I know I could quite rely. As for Lord Rosse's great
reflector, I can only tell you what I hear, having never seen it, or
even his three feet one. The great one is not yet completed. Of the
other, those who _have_ looked through it speak in raptures. I met not
long since an officer who, at Halifax in Nova Scotia, saw _the comet_
at noon close to the sun, and very conspicuous the day after the
perihelion passage.
Your account of the pictures and other _deliciæ_ of Venice makes our
mouths water; but it is of no use, so we can only congratulate those
who are in the full enjoyment of such things.
Ever yours most truly,
J. HERSCHEL.
On returning to Rome I was elected Associate of the College of
Risurgenti, and in the following April I became an honorary member of
the Imperial and Royal Academy of Science, Literature and Art at Arezzo.
I finished an edition of the Physical Sciences, at which I had been
working, and in spring Somerville hired a small house belonging to the
Duca Sforza Cesarini, at Genzano, close to and with a beautiful view of
the Lake of Nemi; but as I had not seen my son for some time, I now
availed myself of the opportunity of travelling with our friend Sir
Frederick Adam to England. We crossed the Channel at Ostend, and at the
mouth of the Thames lay the old "Venerable," in which my father was
flag-captain at the battle of Camperdown. I had a joyful meeting with
my son and his wife, and we went to see many things that were new to me.
One of our first expeditions was to the British Museum. I had already
seen the Elgin marbles, and the antiquities collected at Babylon by Mr.
Rich, when he was Consul at Bagdad, but now the Museum had been enriched
by the marbles from Halicarnassus, and by the marvellous remains
excavated by Mr. Layard from the ruins of Nineveh, the very site of
which had been for ages unknown.
I frequently went to Turner's studio, and was always welcomed. No one
could imagine that so much poetical feeling existed in so rough an
exterior. The water-colour exhibitions were very good; my countrymen
still maintained their superiority in that style of art, and the
drawings of some English ladies were scarcely inferior to those of
first-rate artists, especially those of my friend, Miss Blake, of
Danesbury.
While in England I made several visits; the first was to my dear friends
Sir John and Lady Herschel, at Collingwood, who received me with the
warmest affection. I cannot express the pleasure it gave me to feel
myself at home in a family where not only the highest branches of
science were freely discussed, but where the accomplishments and graces
of life were cultivated. I was highly gratified and proud of being
godmother to Rosa, the daughter of Sir John and Lady Herschel. Among
other places near Collingwood I was taken to see an excellent
observatory formed by Mr. Dawes, a gentleman of independent fortune; and
here I must remark, to the honour of my countrymen, that at the time I
am writing, there are twenty-six private observatories in Great Britain
and Ireland, furnished with first-rate instruments, with which some of
the most important astronomical discoveries have been made.
[I received the following letter from my mother while we were at
Genzano. It is one of several which record in her natural and
unaffected words my mother's profound admiration for Sir John
Herschel.]
MRS. SOMERVILLE TO MISS SOMERVILLE.
SYDENHAM, _1st September, 1844_.
_Sunday Night._
MY DEAR MARTHA,
... We go to the Herschels' to-morrow, and there I shall finish this
letter, as it is impossible to get it in time for Tuesday's post,
but I have so much to do now that you must not expect a letter every
post, and I had no time to begin this before, and I am too tired to
sit up later to-night....
COLLINGWOOD, _Monday_.
This appears to be a remarkably beautiful place, with abundance of
fine timber.... W. brought your dear nice letter; it makes me long
to be with you, and, please God, I shall be so before long, as I set
off this day fortnight.
_Wednesday._
Yesterday I had a great deal of scientific talk with Sir John, and
a long walk in the grounds which are extensive, and very pretty.
Then the Airys arrived, and we had a large party at dinner.... I
think, now, as I always have done, that Sir John is by much the
highest and finest character I have ever met with; the most
gentlemanly and polished mind, combined with the most exalted
morality, and the utmost of human attainment. His view of everything
is philosophic, and at the same time highly poetical, in short, he
combines every quality that is admirable and excellent with the most
charming modesty, and Lady Herschel is quite worthy of such a
husband, which is the greatest praise I can give her. Their kindness
and affection for me has been unbounded. Lady H. told me she heard
such praises of you two that she is anxious to know you, and she
hopes you will always look upon her and her family as friends. The
christening went off as well as possible. Mr. Airy was godfather,
and Mrs. Airy and I godmothers, but I had the naming of the
child--Matilda Rose, after Lady Herschel's sister. I assure you I
was quite adroit in taking the baby from the nurse and giving her to
the clergyman. Sir John took Mrs. Airy and me a drive to see a very
fine picturesque castle a few miles off.... I have got loads of
things for experiments on light from Sir John with a variety of
papers, and you may believe that I have profited not a little by his
conversation, and have a thousand projects for study and writing, so
I think painting will be at a standstill, only that I have promised
to paint something for Lady Herschel. Sir John computes four or five
hours every day, and yet his Cape observations will not be finished
for two years. I have seen everything he is or has been doing.
Your affectionate mother,
MARY SOMERVILLE.
* * * * *
[My mother continues her recollections of this journey.]
My next visit was to Lord and Lady Charles Percy at Guy's Cliff, in
Warwickshire, a pretty picturesque place of historical and romantic
memory. The society was pleasant, and I was taken to Kenilworth and
Warwick Castle, on the banks of the Avon, a noble place, still bearing
marks of the Wars of the Roses. I never saw such magnificent oak-trees
as those on the Leigh estate, near Guy's Cliff.
I then visited my maiden namesake, Mrs. Fairfax, of Gilling Castle,
Yorkshire. She was a highly cultivated person, had been much abroad, and
was a warm-hearted friend. I was much interested in the principal room,
for a deep frieze surrounds the wall, on which are painted the coats of
arms of all the families with whom the Fairfaxes have intermarried,
ascending to very great antiquity; besides, every pane of glass in a
very large bay window in the same room is stained with one of these
coats of arms. Every morning after breakfast a prodigious flock of
pea-fowl came from the woods around to be fed.
I now went to the vicinity of Kelso to visit my brother and
sister-in-law, General and Mrs. Elliot, who lived on the banks of the
Tweed. We went to Jedburgh, the place of my birth. After many years I
still thought the valley of the Jed very beautiful; I fear the pretty
stream has been invaded by manufactories: there is a perpetual war
between civilization and the beauty of nature. I went to see the spot
from whence I once took a sketch of Jedburgh Abbey and the manse in
which I was born, which does not exist, I believe, now. When I was a
very young girl I made a painting from this sketch. Our next excursion
was to a lonely village called Yetholm, in the hills, some miles from
Kelso, belonging to the gipsies. The "king" and the other men were
absent, but the women were civil, and some of them very pretty. Our
principal object in going there was to see a stone in the wall of a
small and very ancient church at Linton, nearly in ruins, on which is
carved in relief the wyvern and wheel, the crest of the Somervilles.
From Kelso I went to Edinburgh to spend a few days with Lord Jeffrey and
his family. No one who had seen his gentle kindness in domestic life and
the warmth of his attachment to his friends, could have supposed he
possessed that power of ridicule and severity which made him the terror
of authors. His total ignorance of science may perhaps excuse him for
having admitted into the "Review" Brougham's intemperate article on the
undulatory theory of light, a discovery which has immortalized the name
of Dr. Young. I found Edinburgh, the city of my early recollections,
picturesque and beautiful as ever, but enormously increased both to the
north and to the south. Queen Street, which in my youth was open to the
north and commanded a view of the Forth and the mountains beyond, was
now in the middle of the new town. All those I had formerly known were
gone--a new generation had sprung up, living in all the luxury of modern
times. On returning to London I spent a pleasant time with my son and
his wife, who invited all those to meet me whom they thought I should
like to see.
[My mother returned to Rome in autumn in company with an old friend
and her daughter.]
* * * * *
The winter passed without any marked event, but always agreeably; new
people came, making a pleasant variety in the society, which, though
still refined, was beginning to be very mixed, as was amusingly seen at
Torlonia's balls and tableaux, where many of the guests formed a
singular contrast with the beautiful Princess, who was of the historical
family of the Colonnas. I was often ashamed of my countrymen, who, all
the while speaking of the Italians with contempt, tried to force
themselves into their houses. Prince Borghese refused the same person an
invitation to a ball five times. I was particularly scrupulous about
invitations, and never asked for one in my life; nor did I ever seek to
make acquaintances with the view of being invited to their houses.
* * * * *
[The following letters give a sketch of life during the summer
months at Rome:--]
MRS. SOMERVILLE TO W. GREIG, ESQ.
ROME, _3rd August, 1845_.
MY DEAR WORONZOW,
... I am glad you are so much pleased with my bust, and that it is
so little injured after having been at the bottom of the sea. You
will find Macdonald a very agreeable and original person. As to
spending the summer in Rome, you may make yourself quite easy, for
the heat is very bearable, the thermometer varying between 75° and
80° in our rooms during the day, which are kept in darkness, and at
night it always becomes cooler. Thank God, we are all quite well,
and Somerville particularly so; he goes out during the day to amuse
himself, and the girls paint in the Borghese gallery. As for
myself I have always plenty to do till half past three, when we
dine, and after dinner I sleep for an hour or more, and when the sun
is set we go out to wander a little, for a long walk is too
fatiguing at this season. We have very little society, the only
variety we have had was a very pretty supper party given by Signore
Rossi, the French minister, to the Prince and Princess de Broglie,
son and daughter-in-law of the duke. The young lady is extremely
beautiful, and as I knew the late Duchesse de Broglie (Madame de
Staël's daughter) we soon got acquainted. They are newly married,
and have come to spend part of the summer in Rome, so you see people
are not so much alarmed as the English.... We went yesterday evening
to see the Piazza Navona full of water; it is flooded every Saturday
and Sunday at this season; there is music, and the whole population
of Rome is collected round it, carts and carriages splashing through
it in all directions. I think it must be about three feet deep. It
was there the ancient Romans had their naval games; and the custom
of filling it with water in summer has lasted ever since. The
fountain is one of the most beautiful in Rome, which is saying a
great deal; indeed the immense gush of the purest water from
innumerable fountains in every street and every villa is one of the
peculiarities of Rome. I fear from what I have heard of those in
Trafalgar Square that the quantity of water will be very miserable.
The papers (I mean the Times), are full of abuse of Mr. Sedgwick
and Dr. Buckland, but their adversaries write such nonsense that it
matters little. I do not think I have anything to add to my new
edition. If you hear of anything of moment let me know. Perhaps
something may have transpired at the British Association....
Your affectionate mother,
MARY SOMERVILLE.
* * * * *
MRS. SOMERVILLE TO W. GREIG, ESQ.
ROME, _May 28th, 1845_.
MY DEAR WORONZOW,
I don't know why I have so long delayed writing to you. I rather
think it is because we have been living so quiet a life, one day so
precisely similar to the preceding, that there has been nothing
worth writing about. This is our first really summer-like day, and
splendid it is; but we are sitting in a kind of twilight. The only
means of keeping the rooms cool is by keeping the house dark and
shutting out the external air, and then in the evening we have a
delightful walk; the country is splendid, the Campagna one sheet of
deep verdure and flowers of every kind in abundance. We generally
have six or seven large nosegays in the room; we have only to go to
some of the neighbouring villas and gather them. Most of the English
are gone; people make a great mistake in not remaining during the
hot weather, this is the time for enjoyment. We are busy all the
morning, and in the afternoon we take our book or drawing materials
and sit on the grass in some of the lovely villas for hours; then we
come home to tea, and are glad to see anyone who will come in for an
hour or two. We have had a son of Mr. Babbage here. He is employed
in making the railway that is to go from Genoa to Milan, and he was
travelling with eight other Englishmen who came to make
arrangements for covering Italy with a network of these iron roads,
connecting all the great cities and also the two seas from Venice to
Milan and Genoa and from Ancona by Rome to Civita Vecchia. However
the Pope is opposed to the latter part, but they say the cardinals
and people wish it so much that he will at last consent.... Many
thanks for the _Vestiges_, &c. I think it a powerful production, and
was highly pleased with it, but I can easily see that it will offend
in some quarters; however it should be remembered that there has
been as much opposition to the true system of astronomy and to
geological facts as there can be to this. At all events free and
open discussion of all natural and moral phenomena must lead to
truth at last. Is Babbage the author? I rather think he would not be
so careful in concealing his name....
[My mother made some curious experiments upon the effect of the
solar spectrum on juices of plants and other substances, of which
she sent an account to Sir John Herschel, who answered telling her
that he had communicated her account of her experiments to the Royal
Society.]
* * * * *
SIR JOHN HERSCHEL TO MRS. SOMERVILLE.
COLLINGWOOD, _November 21st, 1845_.
MY DEAR MRS. SOMERVILLE,
I cannot express to you the pleasure I experienced from the receipt
of your letter and the perusal of the elegant experiments it
relates, which appear to me of the highest interest and show (what I
always suspected), that there is a world of wonders awaiting
disclosure in the solar spectrum, and that influences widely
differing from either light, heat or colour are transmitted to us
from our central luminary, which are mainly instrumental in evolving
and maturing the splendid hues of the vegetable creation and
elaborating the juices to which they owe their beauty and their
vitality. I think it certain that heat goes for something in
evaporating your liquids and thereby causing some of your phenomena;
but there is a difference of _quality_ as well as of _quantity_ of
heat brought into view which renders it susceptible of analysis by
the coloured juices so that in certain parts of the spectrum it is
retained and fixed, in others reflected according as the nature of
the tint favours the one or the other. Pray go on with these
delightful experiments. I wish you could save yourself the fatigue
of watching and directing your sunbeam by a clock work. If I were at
your elbow I could rig you out a heliotrope quite sufficient with
the aid of any common wooden clock.... Now I am going to take a
liberty (but not till after duly consulting Mr. Greig with whose
approbation I act, and you are not to gainsay our proceedings) and
that is to communicate your results in the form of "an extract of a
letter" to myself--to the Royal Society. You may be very sure that I
would not do this if I thought that the experiments were not
intrinsically quite deserving to be recorded in the pages of the
Phil. Trans. and if I were not sure that they will lead to a vast
field of curious and beautiful research; and as you have already
once contributed to the Society, (on a subject connected with the
spectrum and the sunbeam) this will, I trust, not appear in your
eyes in a formidable or a repulsive light, and it will be a great
matter of congratulation to us all to know that these subjects
continue to engage your attention, and that you can turn your
residence in that sunny clime to such admirable account. So do not
call upon me to retract (for before you get this the papers will be
in the secretary's hands).
I am here nearly as much out of the full stream of scientific
matters as you at Rome. We had a full and very satisfactory meeting
at Cambridge of the British Association, with a full attendance of
continental magnetists and meteorologists, and within these few days
I have learned that our Government meant to grant all our requests
and continue the magnetic and meteorological observations. Humboldt
has sent me his Cosmos (Vol. I.), which is good, all but the first
60 pages, which are occupied in telling his readers what his book is
_not_ to be. Dr. Whewell has just published _another_ book on the
Principles of Morals, and also _another_ on education, in which he
cries up the geometrical processes in preference to analysis....
Yours very faithfully,
J. HERSCHEL.
* * * * *
The Prince and Princesse de Broglie came to Rome in 1845, and Signore
Pellegrino Rossi, at this time French Minister at the Vatican, gave them
a supper party, to which we were invited. We had met with him long
before at Geneva, where he had taken refuge after the insurrection of
1821. He was greatly esteemed there and admired for his eloquence in the
lectures he gave in the University. It was a curious circumstance, that
he, who was a Roman subject, and was exiled, and, if I am not mistaken,
condemned to death, should return to Rome as French Minister. He had a
remarkably fine countenance, resembling some ancient Roman bust. M.
Thiers had brought in a law in the French Chambers to check the audacity
of the Jesuits, and Rossi was sent to negotiate with the Pope. We had
seen much of him at Rome, and were horrified, in 1848, to hear that he
had been assassinated on the steps of the Cancelleria, at Rome, where
the Legislative Assembly met, and whither he was proceeding to attend
its first meeting. No one offered to assist him, nor to arrest the
murderers except Dr. Pantaleone, a much esteemed Roman physician, and
member of the Chamber, who did what he could to save him, but in vain;
he was a great loss to the Liberal cause.
Towards the end of summer we spent a month most agreeably at Subiaco,
receiving much civility from the Benedictine monks of the Sacro Speco,
and visiting all the neighbouring towns, each one perched on some
hill-top, and one more romantically picturesque than the other. It was
in this part of the country that Claude Lorraine and Poussin studied and
painted. I never saw more beautiful country, or one which afforded so
many exquisite subjects for a landscape painter. We went all over the
country on mules--to some of the towns, such as Cervara, up steep
flights of steps cut in the rock. The people, too, were extremely
picturesque, and the women still wore their costumes, which probably now
they have laid aside for tweeds and Manchester cottons.
I often during my winters in Rome went to paint from nature in the
Campagna, either with Somerville or with Lady Susan Percy, who drew very
prettily. Once we set out a little later than usual, when, driving
through the Piazza of the Bocca della Verità, we both called out, "Did
you see that? How horrible! "It was the guillotine; an execution had
just taken place, and had we been a quarter of an hour earlier we should
have passed at the fatal moment. Under Gregory XVI. everything was
conducted in the most profound secrecy; arrests were made almost at our
very door, of which we knew nothing; Mazzini was busily at work on one
side, the Jesuitical party actively intriguing, according to their wont,
on the other; and in the mean time society went on gaily at the surface,
ignorant of and indifferent to the course of events. We were preparing
to leave Rome when Gregory died. We put off our journey to see his
funeral, and the Conclave, which terminated, in the course of scarcely
two days, in the election of Pius IX. We also saw the new Pope's
coronation, and witnessed the beginning of that popularity which lasted
so short a time. Much was expected from him, and in the beginning of his
reign the moderate liberals fondly hoped that Italy would unite in one
great federation, with Pius IX. at the head of it; entirely forgetting
how incompatible a theocracy or government by priests ever must be with
all progress and with liberal institutions. Their hopes were soon
blighted, and after all the well-known events of 1848 and 1849, a
reaction set in all over Italy, except in gallant little Piedmont, where
the constitution was maintained, thanks to Victor Emmanuel, and
especially to that great genius, Camillo Cavour, and in spite of the
disastrous reverses at Novara. Once more in 1859 Piedmont went to war
with Austria, this time with success, and with the not disinterested
help of France. One province after another joined her, and Italy, freed
from all the little petty princes, and last, not least, from the
Bourbons, has become that one great kingdom which was the dream of some
of her greatest men in times of old.
We went to Bologna for a short time, and there the enthusiasm for the
new Pope was absolutely intolerable. "Viva Pio Nono!" was shouted night
and day. There was no repose; bands of music went about the streets,
playing airs composed for the occasion, and in the theatres it was even
worse, for the acting was interrupted, and the orchestra called upon to
play the national tunes in vogue, and repeat them again and again, amid
the deafening shouts and applause of the excited audience. We found the
Bolognese very sociable, and it was by far the most musical society I
ever was in. Rossini was living in Bologna, and received in the evening,
and there was always music, amateur and professional, at his house.
Frequently there was part-singing or choruses, and after the music was
over the evening ended with a dance. We frequently saw Rossini some
years later, when we resided at Florence. He was clever and amusing in
conversation, but satirical. He was very bitter against the modern style
of opera-singing, and considered the singers of the present day, with
some exceptions, as wanting in study and finish. He objected to much of
the modern music, as dwelling too constantly on the highest notes of the
voice, whereby it is very soon deteriorated, and the singer forced to
scream; besides which, he considered the orchestral accompaniments too
loud. I, who recollected Pasta, Malibran, Grisi, Rubini, and others of
that epoch, could not help agreeing with him when I compared them to the
singers I heard at the Pergola and elsewhere. The theatre, too, was
good at Bologna, and we frequently went to it.
One evening we were sitting on the balcony of the hotel, when we saw a
man stab another in the back of the neck, and then run away. The victim
staggered along for a minute, and then fell down in a pool of blood. He
had been a spy of the police under Gregory XVI., and one of the
principal agents of his cruel government. He was so obnoxious to the
people that his assassin has never been discovered.
From Bologna we went for a few weeks to Recoaro, where I drank the
waters, after which we travelled to England by the St. Gothard pass.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 13: The vessel on board which this bust was shipped for
England ran on a shoal and sank, but as the accident happened in shallow
water, the bust was recovered, none the worse for its immersion in salt
water.]