sculptor. It has been my good fortune to visit him, and to converse with
him much at large, several times. He is one of the most unaffected of the
living Phidias-tribe; resembling much, both in figure and conversation, and
more especially in a pleasing simplicity of manners, our celebrated
_Chantry_. Indeed I should call Dannecker, on the score of art as well as
of person, rather the Chantry than the _Flaxman_ or _Canova_ of Suabia. He
shewed me every part of his study; and every cast of such originals as he
had executed, or which he had it in contemplation to execute. Of those that
had left him, I was compelled to be satisfied with the plaster of his
famous ARIADNE, reclining upon the back of a passant leopard, each of the
size of life. The original belongs to a banker at Frankfort, for whom it
was executed for the sum of about one thousand pounds sterling. It must be
an exquisite production; for if the _plaster_ be thus interesting what must
be the effect of the _marble_? Dannecker told me that the most difficult
parts of the group, as to detail, were the interior of the leopard's feet,
and the foot and retired drapery of the female figure--which has one leg
tucked under the other. The whole composition has an harmonious, joyous
effect; while health, animation, and beauty breathe in every limb and
lineament of Ariadne.
But it was my good fortune to witness _one_ original of Dannecker's
chisel--of transcendent merit. I mean, the colossal head of SCHILLER; who
was the intimate friend, and a townsman of this able sculptor. I never
stood before so expressive a modern countenance. The forehead is high and
wide, and the projections, over the eye-brows, are boldly, but finely and
gradually, marked. The eye is rather full, but retired. The cheeks are
considerably shrunk. The mouth is full of expression, and the chin somewhat
elongated. The hair flows behind in a broad mass, and ends in a wavy curl
upon the shoulders: not very unlike the professional wigs of the French
barristers which I had seen at Paris. Upon the whole, I prefer this
latter--for breadth and harmony--to the eternal conceit of the wig à la
grecque. "It was so (said Dannecker) that Schiller wore his hair; and it
was precisely with this physiognomical expression that he came out to me,
dressed en roquelaure, from his inner apartment, when I saw him for the
last time. I thought to myself--on so seeing him--(added the sculptor) that
it is thus that I will chisel your bust in marble." Dannecker then
requested me to draw my hand gently over the forehead--and to observe by
what careful, and almost imperceptible gradations, this boldness of front
had been accomplished; I listened to every word that he said about the
extraordinary character then, as it were, before me, with an earnestness
and pleasure which I can hardly describe; and walked round and round the
bust with a gratification approaching to ecstacy. They may say what they
please--at Rome or at London--but a _finer_ specimen of art, in its very
highest department, and of its particular kind, the chisel of _no living_
Sculptor hath achieved. As a bust, it is perfect. It is the MAN; with all
his MIND in his countenance; without the introduction of any sickly airs
and graces, which are frequently the result of a predetermination to treat
it--as _Phidias_ or _Praxiteles_ would have treated it! It is worth a host
of such figures as that of Marshal Saxe at Strasbourg.
"Would any sum induce you to part with it?"--said I, in an under tone, to
the unsuspecting artist ... bethinking me, at the same time, of offering
somewhere about 250 louis d'or--"None:" replied Dannecker. "I loved the
original too dearly to part with this copy of his countenance, in which I
have done my utmost to render it worthy of my incomparable friend." I think
the artist said that the Queen had expressed a wish to possess it; but he
was compelled to adhere religiously to his determination of keeping it for
himself. Dannecker shewed me a plaster cast of his intended figure of
CHRIST. It struck me as being of great simplicity of breadth, and majesty
of expression; but perhaps the form wanted fulness--and the drapery might
be a little too sparing. I then saw several other busts, and subjects,
which have already escaped my recollection; but I could not but be struck
with the quiet and unaffected manner in which this meritorious artist
mentioned the approbation bestowed by CANOVA upon several of his
performances. He is very much superior indeed to Ohmacht; but comparisons
have long been considered as uncourteous and invidious--and so I will only
add, that, if ever Dannecker visits England--which he half threatens to
do--he shall be fêted by a Commoner, and patronised by a Duke. Meanwhile,
you have here his Autograph for contemplation.
[Illustration: Autograph of Dannecker]
[20] Afterwards Sir Alexander Allan, Bart. I met him and Captain C * * *,
of the Royal Navy, in their way to Inspruck. But Sir Alexander (than
whom, I believe a worthier or a braver man never entered the
profession of which he was so distinguished an ornament) scarcely
survived the excursion two years.
[21] The Queen of Würtemberg survived the levee, above described, only a
few months. Her DEATH was in consequence of over-maternal anxiety
about her children, who were ill with the measles. The queen was
suddenly called from her bed on a cold night in the month of January
to the chamber where her children were seriously indisposed. Forgetful
of herself, of the hour, and of the season, she caught a severe cold:
a violent erysipelatous affection, terminating in apoplexy, was the
fatal result--and SHE, who, but a few short-lived months before, had
shone as the brightest star in the hemisphere of her own court;--who
was the patroness of art;--and of two or three national schools,
building, when I was at Stuttgart, at her own expense--was doomed to
become the subject of general lamentation and woe. She was admired,
respected, and beloved. It was pleasing, as it was quite natural, to
see her (as I had often done) and the King, riding out in the same
carriage, or phaeton, without any royal guard; and all ranks of people
heartily disposed to pay them the homage of their respect. In a letter
from M. Le Bret, of the 8th of June 1819, I learnt that a magnificent
chapel, built after the Grecian model, was to contain the monument to
be erected to her memory. Her funeral was attended by six hundred
students from Tubingen, by torch light.
[22] For the sake of juxta-position, I will here mention the SEQUEL, as
briefly as may be. The "affair" was far from being at that time
"settled." But, on reaching Manheim, about to recross the Rhine, on my
return to Paris--I found a long and circumstantial letter from my
bibliographical correspondent at Stuttgart, which seemed to bring the
matter to a final and desirable issue. "So many thousand francs had
been agreed upon--there only wanted a well bound copy of the
_Bibliographical Decameron_ to boot:--and the Virgils were to be
considered as his Lordship's property." Mr. Hamilton, our Chargé
d'Affaires, had authority to pay the money--and I ... walked instantly
to _Artaria's_--purchased a copy of the work in question, (which
happened to be there, in blue morocco binding,) and desired my valet
to get ready to start the next morning, by three or four o'clock, to
travel post to Stuttgart: from whence he was not to return
_without_ bringing the VIRGILS, in the same carriage which would
convey him and the Decameronic volumes. Charles Rohfritsch immediately
prepared to set out on his journey. He left Manheim at three in the
morning; travelled without intermission to Stuttgart,--perhaps
fourscore or ninety miles from Manheim--put up at his old quarters
_zum Waldhorn_ (see p. 17, ante.) waited upon M. Le Bret with a
letter, and the morocco tomes--RECEIVED THE VIRGILS--and prepared for
his return to Manheim--which place he reached by two on the following
morning. I had told him that, at whatever hour he arrived, he was to
make his way to my chamber. He did as he was desired. "LES
VOILA!"--exclaimed he, on placing the two volumes hastily upon the
table.--"Ma foi, Monsieur, c'est ceci une drôle d'affaire; il y a je
ne sçai pas combien de lieues que j'ai traversé pour deux anciens
livres qui ne valent pas à mes yeux le tiers d'un Napoleon!" I readily
forgave him all this saucy heresy--and almost hugged the volumes ...
on finding them upon my table. They were my constant travelling
companions through France to Calais; and when I shewed the _Adam
Virgil_ to M. Van Praet, at Paris--"Enfin (remarked he, as he turned
over the broad-margined and loud-crackling leaves) voilà un livre dont
j'ai beaucoup entendu parler, mais que je n'ai jamais vu!" These words
sounded as sweet melody to mine ears. But I will unfeignedly declare,
that the joy which crowned the whole, was, when I delivered _both_ the
books ... into the hands of their present NOBLE OWNER: with whom they
will doubtless find their FINAL RESTING PLACE. [Such was my
bibliographical history--eleven years ago. Since that period NO copy
of EITHER edition has found its way into England. "Terque quaterque
beatus!"]
LETTER III.
DEPARTURE FROM STUTTGART. ULM. AUGSBOURG. THE PICTURE GALLERY AT AUGSBOURG.
_Augsbourg, Hôtel des Trois Nègres, Aug. 9, 1818._
MY DEAR FRIEND;
I have indeed been an active, as well as fortunate traveller, since I last
addressed you; and I sit down to compose rather a long despatch, which,
upon the whole, will be probably interesting; and which, moreover, is
penned in one of the noblest hotels in Europe. The more I see of Germany,
the more I like it. Behold me, then in _Bavaria_; within one of its most
beautiful cities, and looking, from my window, upon a street called
_Maximilian Street_--which, for picturesque beauty, is exceeded only by the
High-street at Oxford. A noble fountain of bronze figures in the centre of
it, is sending forth its clear and agitated waters into the air--only to
fall, in pellucid drops, into a basin of capacious dimensions: again to be
carried upwards, and again to descend. 'Tis a magnificent fountain; and I
wish such an one were in the centre of the street above mentioned, or in
that of Waterloo Place. But to proceed with my Journal from Stuttgart.
I left that capital of the kingdom of Würtemberg about five in the
afternoon, accompanied by my excellent friend M. Le Bret, who took a seat
in the carriage as far as the boundaries of the city.[23] His dry drollery,
and frankness of communication, made me regret that he could not accompany
us--at least as far as the first stage _Plochingen_;--especially as the
weather was beautiful, and the road excellent. However, the novelty of each
surrounding object--(but shall ... I whisper a secret in your ear?--the
probably successful result of the negotiation about the two ancient
editions of Virgil--yet more than each surrounding object) put me in
perfect good humour, as we continued to roll pleasantly on towards our
resting-place for the night--either _Göppingen_, or _Geislingen_,--as time
and inclination might serve. The sky was in a fine crimson glow with the
approaching sun-set, which was reflected by a river of clear water, skirted
in parts by poplar and birch, as we changed horses at _Plochingen_. It was,
I think, _that_ town, rather than Göppingen, (the next stage) which struck
us, en passant, to be singularly curious and picturesque on the score of
antiquity and street scenery. It was with reluctance that I passed through
it in so rapid a manner: but necessity alone was the excuse.
We slept, and slept comfortably, at _Göppingen_. From thence to
_Geislingen_ are sweet views: in part luxuriant and cultivated, and in part
bold and romantic. Here, were the humble and neatly-trimmed huts of
cottagers; there, the lofty and castle-crowned domains of the Baron. It was
all pleasing and heart-cheering; while the sky continued in one soft and
silvery tint from the unusual transparency of the day. On entering
_Geislingen_, our attention was quickly directed to other, and somewhat
extraordinary, objects. In this town, there is a great manufactory of
articles in _ivory_; and we had hardly stopped to change horses--in other
words, the postilion had not yet dismounted--ere we were assailed by some
half dozen ill-clad females, who crawled up the carriage, in all
directions, with baskets of ivory toys in their hands, saluting us with
loud screams and tones--which, of course, we understood to mean that their
baskets might be lightened of their contents. Our valet here became the
principal medium of explanation. Charles Rohfritsch raised himself up from
his seat; extended, his hands, elevated his voice, stamped, seized upon
one, and caught hold of another, assailant at the same time--threatening
them with the vengeance of the police if they did not instantly desist from
their rude assaults. It was indeed high time to be absolute; for Mr. Lewis
was surrounded by two, and I was myself honoured by a visit of three, of
this gipsy tribe of ivory-venders: who had crawled over the dicky, and up
the hinder wheels, into the body of the carriage.
There seemed to be no alternative but to purchase _something_. We took two
or three boxes, containing crucifixes, toothpicks, and apple-scoops; and
set the best face we could upon this strange adventure. Meanwhile, fresh
horses were put to; and the valet joked with the ivory venders--having
desired the postilion, (as he afterwards informed me) as soon as he was
mounted, to make some bold flourishes with his whip, to stick his spurs
into the sides of his horses, and disentangle himself from the surrounding
female throng as speedily as he could. The postilion did as he was
commanded: and we darted off at almost a full gallop. A steep hill was
before us, but the horses continued to keep their first pace, till a touch
of humanity made our charioteer relax from his efforts. We had now left the
town of Geislingen behind us, but yet saw the ivory venders pointing
towards the route we had taken. "This has been a strange piece of business
indeed, Sir," (observed the valet). "These women are a set of mad-caps; but
they are nevertheless women of character. They always act thus: especially
when they see that the visitors are English--for they are vastly fond of
your countrymen!"
We were now within about twenty English miles of ULM. Nothing particular
occurred, either by way of anecdote or of scenery, till within almost the
immediate approach, or descent to that city--the last in the Suabian
territories, and which is separated from Bavaria by the river Danube. I
caught the first glance of that celebrated river (here of comparatively
trifling width) with no ordinary emotions of delight. It recalled to my
memory the battle of _Blenheim_, or of _Hochstedt_; for you know that it
was across this very river, and scarcely a score of miles from Ulm, that
the victorious MARLBOROUGH chased the flying French and Bavarians--at the
battle just mentioned. At the same moment, almost, I could not fail to
contrast this glorious issue with the miserable surrender of the town
before me--then filled by a large and well-disciplined army, and commanded
by that non-pareil of generals, J.G. MACK!--into the power of Bonaparte...
almost without pulling a trigger on either side--the place itself being
considered, at the time, one of the strongest towns in Europe. These
things, I say, rushed upon my memory, when, on the immediate descent into
Ulm, I caught the first view of the tower of the MINSTER ... which quickly
put Marlborough, and Mack, and Bonaparte out of my recollection.
I had never, since quitting the beach at Brighton, beheld such an
_English-like_ looking cathedral--as a whole; and particularly the tower.
It is broad, bold, and lofty; but, like all edifices, seen from a
neighbouring and perhaps loftier height, it loses, at first view, very much
of the loftiness of its character. However, I looked with admiration, and
longed to approach it. This object was accomplished in twenty minutes. We
entered Ulm about two o'clock: drove to an excellent inn (the _White
Stag_--which I strongly recommend to all fellow-travellers) and ordered our
dinner to be got ready by five; which, as the house was within a stone's
cast of the cathedral, gave us every opportunity of visiting it before
hand. The day continued most beautiful: and we sallied forth in high
spirits, to gaze at and to admire every object of antiquity which should
present itself.
You may remember my mentioning, towards the close of my last despatch, that
a letter was lying upon the table, directed to one of the Professors of the
University, or _gymnase_, of this place. The name of that Professor was
VEESENMEYER; a very respectable, learned, and kind-hearted gentleman. I
sought his house (close to the cathedral) the very first thing on quitting
the hotel. The Professor was at home. On receiving my letter, by the hands
of a pretty little girl, one of his daughters, M. Veesenmeyer made his
appearance at the top of a short stair case, arrayed in a sort of woollen,
quilted jacket, with a green cloth cap on, and a pipe in his mouth--which
latter seemed to be full as tall as himself. I should think that the
Professor could not be taller than his pipe, which might be somewhere about
five feet in length. His figure had an exceedingly droll appearance. His
mode of pronouncing French was somewhat germanized; but I strained every
nerve to understand him, as my valet was not with me, and as there would
have been no alternative but to have talked Latin. I was desirous of seeing
the library, attached to the cathedral. "Could the Professor facilitate
that object?" "Most willingly--" was his reply--"I will write a note to * *
the librarian: carry it to him, and he will shew you the library directly,
if he be at home." I did as he desired me; but found the number of the
house very difficult to discover--as the houses are numbered,
consecutively, throughout the town--down one street and up another: so
that, without knowing the order of the _streets_ through which the numbers
run, it is hardly possible for a stranger to proceed.
Having sauntered round and round, and returned almost to the very spot
whence I had set out, I at last found the residence of the librarian.--On
being admitted, I was introduced to a tall, sharp-visaged, and
melancholy-complexioned gentleman, who seemed to rise six feet from the
ground on receiving me. He read the Professor's note: but alas! could not
speak one word of French. "Placetne tibi, Domine, sermone latino uti?" I
answered in the affirmative; but confessed that I was totally out of the
habit of speaking it in England: and besides, that our _mode of
pronunciation_ was very different from that of other countries. The man of
dark vestments and sombre countenance relaxed into a gentle smile, as I
added the latter part of this remark: and I accompanied him quickly, but
silently, to the library in question. Its situation is surely among the
most whimsical in existence. It is placed up one pair of stairs, to the
left of the choir; and you ascend up to it through a gloomy and narrow
stone staircase. If I remember rightly, the outward door, connecting with
the stairs, is in the cathedral yard. The library itself is very small; and
a print, being a portrait of its Donor, hangs up against the
shelves--facing as you enter. I had never seen this print before. It was an
interesting portrait; and had, I think, a date of somewhere about 1584. The
collection was chiefly theological; yet there were a few old classics, but
of very secondary value. The only book that I absolutely coveted, was a
folio, somewhat charged with writing in the margins, of which the title and
colophon are as follow:--for I obtained permission to make a memorandum of
them. "Gutheri Ligurini Poetæ clarissimi diui Frid. pri Dece libri
foeliciter editi: _impssi per industriu & ingeniosu Magistru
Erhardu Oeglin ciuem augustesem Ano Sesquimillesimo & septimo
mese Apprilio_" This edition contains M vj, in sixes. The preceding
article is followed by six leaves, containing supplemental matter.
I asked my sable attendant, if this book could be parted with--either for
money, or in exchange for other books? he replied, "that that point must be
submitted to the consideration of a chapter: that the library was rarely or
never visited; but that he considered it would not be proper to disturb its
order, or to destroy its identity, since it was a _sacred legacy_." I told
him that he reasoned well; but that, should the chapter change such a
resolution, my address would be found at Vienna, poste restante, till the
20th of the following month. We parted in terms of formal politeness; being
now and then a little checked in my discourse, by the reply, on his part,
of "Non prorsus intelligo." I am glad, however, to have seen this secluded
cabinet of books; which would have been the very place for the study of
Anthony Wood or Thomas Hearne. It had quite an air of monastic seclusion,
and it seemed as if scarcely six persons had trod the floor, or six volumes
had been taken down from the shelves, since the day when the key was first
turned upon the door which encloses the collection. After a few "_salves_,"
and one "_vale_," I returned to the White Stag.
The CATHEDRAL of ULM is doubtless among the most respectable of those upon
the continent. It is large and wide, and of a massive and imposing style of
architecture. The buttresses are bold, and very much after the English
fashion. The tower is the chief exterior beauty. Before we mounted it, we
begged the guide, who attended us, to conduct us all over the interior.
This interior is very noble: and even superior, as a piece of architecture,
to that of Strasbourg. I should think it even longer and wider--for the
truth is, that the tower of _Strasbourg_ Cathedral is as much too _tall_,
as that of _Ulm_ cathedral is too _short_, for its nave and choir. Not very
long ago, they had covered the interior by a white wash; and thus the
mellow tint of probably about five centuries--in a spot where there are few
immediately surrounding houses--and in a town of which the manufactories
and population are comparatively small--the _latter_ about 14,000--thus, I
say, the mellow tint of these five centuries (for I suppose the cathedral
to have been finished about the year 1320) has been cruelly changed for the
staring and chilling effects of whiting.
The choir is interesting in a high degree. At the extremity of it, is an
altar--indicative of the Lutheran form of worship[24] being carried on
within the church--upon which are oil paintings upon wood, emblazoned with
gilt backgrounds--of the time of _Hans Burgmair_, and of others at the
revival of the art of painting in Germany. These pictures turn upon hinges,
so as to shut up, or be thrown open; and are in the highest state of
preservation. Their subjects are entirely scriptural; and perhaps old _John
Holbein_, the father of the famous Hans Holbein, might have had a share in
some of them. Perhaps they may come down to the time of _Lucas Cranach_.
Whenever, or by whomsoever executed, this series of paintings, upon the
high altar of the cathedral of Ulm, cannot be viewed without considerable
satisfaction. They were the first choice specimens of early art which I had
seen on this side of the Rhine; and I of course contemplated them with the
hungry eye of an antiquary.