see their summits above us at one time glittering in the sunshine, at
another enveloped in mist, swept round with strong clouds, or blackened
with showers, we are disposed to ascribe it all to the atmosphere, as
we can easily with the eye see and discern its movements and changes.
The mountains, on the other hand, with their glorious shapes lie before
our outward senses immoveable. We take them to be dead because they are
rigid, and we believe them to be inactive because they are at rest. For
a long while, however, I cannot put off the impulse to ascribe, for
the most part, to their imperceptible and secret influence the changes
which are observable in the atmosphere. For instance, I believe that
the mass of the earth generally, and, therefore, also in an especial
way its more considerable continents do not exercise a constant
and invariable force of attraction, but that this attractive force
manifests itself by a certain pulse which, according to intrinsic,
necessary, and probably also accidental, external causes, increases
or decreases. Though all attempts by other objects to determine this
oscillation may be too limited and rude, the atmosphere furnishes
a standard both delicate and large enough to test their silent
operations. When this attractive force decreases never so little,
immediately the decrease in the gravity and the diminished elasticity
of the air indicates this effect. The atmosphere is now unable to
sustain the moisture which is diffused throughout it either chemically
or mechanically; the clouds lower, and the rain falls and passes to
the lowlands. When, however, the mountains increase their power of
attraction, then the elasticity of the air is again restored, and two
important phenomena result. First of all, the mountains collect around
their summits vast masses of clouds; hold them fast and firm above
themselves like second heads, until, as determined by the contest
of electrical forces within them, they pour down as thunder-showers,
rain or mist, and then, on all that remains the electricity of the air
operates, which is now restored to a capacity of retaining more water,
dissolving and elaborating it. I saw quite clearly the dispersion of a
cloudy mass of this kind. It was hanging on the very highest peak; the
red tints of the setting sun still illuminated it. Slowly and slowly
pieces detached themselves from either end. Some fleecy nebulæ were
drawn off and carried up still higher, and then disappeared, and in
this manner, by degrees, the whole mass vanished, and was strangely
spun away before my eyes, like a distaff, by invisible hands.
[Sidenote: Meteorology--Vegetation.]
If my friends are disposed to laugh at the itinerant meteorologist and
his strange theories, I shall, perhaps, give them more solid cause
for laughter by some other of my remarks, for I must confess that, as
my journey was, in fact, a flight from all the unshapely things which
tormented me in latitude 51°, I hoped, in 48°, to meet with a true
Goshen. But I found myself disappointed; for latitude alone does not
make a climate and fine weather, but the mountain-chains--especially
such as intersect the land from east to west. In these, great changes
are constantly going on, and the lands which lie to the north have
most to suffer from them. Thus, further north, the weather throughout
the summer was determined by the great Alpine range on which I am now
writing. Here, for the last few months, it has rained incessantly,
while a south-east or south-west wind carried the showers north-wards.
In Italy they are said to have had fine weather, indeed, a little too
dry.
And now a few words on a kindred subject--the vegetable world, which,
in so many ways, depends on climate and moisture, and the height of
the mountain-ranges. Here, too, I have noticed no remarkable change,
but still an improvement. In the valley before Innspruck, apples and
pears are abundant, while the peaches and grapes are brought from the
Welsh districts, or, in other words, the Southern Tyrol. Near Innspruck
they grow a great deal of Indian corn and buck wheat, which they call
_blende._ On the Brenner I first saw the larch, and near Schemberg the
pine. Would the harper's daughter have questioned me about them also?
As regards the plants, I feel still more how perfect a tyro I am. Up
to Munich I saw, I believed, none but those I was well accustomed to.
In truth, my hurried travelling, by day and night, was not favorable to
nicer observation on such objects. Now, it is true, I have my _Linnæus_
at hand, and his Terminology is well stamped on my brain; but whence
is the time and quiet to come for analysing, which, if I at all know
myself, will never become my forte? I, therefore, sharpen my eye for
the more general features, and when I met with the first Gentiana near
the Walchensee, it struck me that it was always near the water, that I
had hitherto noticed any new plants.
What made me still more attentive was the influence which the altitude
of the mountain region evidently had on plants. Not only did I meet
there with new specimens, but I also observed that the growth of the
old ones was materially altered. While in the lower regions branches
and stalks were stronger and more sappy, the buds stood closer
together, and the leaves broader; the higher you got on the mountains
the stalks and branches became more fragile, the buds were at greater
intervals, and the leaves thinner and more lanceolate. I noticed this
in the case of a Willow and of a Gentiana, and convinced myself that it
was not a case of different species. So also, near the Walchensee, I
noticed longer and thinner rushes than anywhere else.
The limestone of the Alps, which I have as yet travelled over, has a
greyish tint, and beautiful, singular, irregular forms, although the
rock is divisible into blocks and strata. But as irregular strata
occur, and the rock in general does not crumble equally under the
influence of the weather, the sides and the peaks have a singular
appearance. This kind of rock comes up the Brenner to a great height.
In the region of the Upper Lake I noticed a slight modification. On a
micaceous slate of dark green and grey colours, and thickly veined with
quartz, lay a white, solid limestone, which, in its detritus, sparkled
and stood in great masses, with numberless clefts. Above it I again
found micaceous slate, which, however, seemed to me to be of a softer
texture than the first. Higher up still there was to be seen a peculiar
kind of gneiss, or rather a granitic species which approximated to
gneiss, as is in the district of Ellbogen. Here at the top, and
opposite the Inn, the rock is micaceous slate. The streams which come
from the mountains leave deposits of nothing but this stone, and of the
grey limestone.
[Sidenote: Geology--My fellow travellers.]
Not far from here must be the granitic base on which all rests. The
maps show that one is on the side of the true great Brenner, from which
the streams of a wide surrounding district take their rise.
The following is my external judgment of the people. They are active
and straightforward. In form they are pretty generally alike: hazel,
well-opened eyes; with the women brown and well-defined eyebrows, but
with the men light and thick. Among the grey rocks the green hats of
the men have a cheerful appearance. The hats are generally ornamented
with ribbons or broad silk-sashes, and with fringes which are prettily
sewn on. On the other hand, the women disfigure themselves with white,
undressed cotton caps of a large size, very much like men's nightcaps.
These give them a very strange appearance; but abroad, they wear the
green hats of the men, which become them very much.
I have opportunity of seeing the value the common class of people put
upon peacock's feathers, and, in general, how every variegated feather
is prized. He who wishes to travel through these mountains will do well
to take with him a lot of them. A feather of this kind produced at the
proper moment will serve instead of the ever-welcome "something to
drink."
Whilst I am putting together, sorting, and arranging these sheets, in
such a way that my friends may easily take a review of my fortunes up
to this point, and that I may, at the same time, dismiss from my soul
all that I have lately thought and experienced, I have, on the other
hand, cast many a trembling look on some packets of which I must give a
good but brief account. They are to be my fellow travellers; may they
not exercise too great an influence on my next few days.
I brought with me to Carlsbad the whole of my MSS. in order to complete
the edition of my works, which Goschen has undertaken. The unprinted
ones I had long possessed in beautiful transcripts, by the practised
hand of Secretary Vögel. This active person accompanied me on this
occasion, in order that I might, if necessary, command his dexterous
services. By this means, and with the never-failing co-operation of
Herder, I was soon in a condition to send to the printer the first four
volumes, and was on the point of doing the same with the last four.
The latter consisted, for the most part, of mere unfinished sketches,
indeed of fragments; for, in truth, my perverse habit of beginning
many plans, and then, as the interest waned, laying them aside, had
gradually gained strength with increasing years, occupations, and
duties.
As I had brought these scraps with me, I readily listened to the
requests of the literary circles of Carlsbad, and read out to them all
that before had remained unknown to the world, which already was bitter
enough in its complaints that much with which it had entertained itself
still remained unfinished.
The celebration of my birthday consisted mainly in sending me several
poems in the name of my commenced but unfinished works. Among these,
one was distinguished above the rest. It was called the _Birds._
A deputation of these happy creatures being sent to a true friend
earnestly entreat him to found at once and establish the kingdom so
long promised to them. Not less obvious and playful were the allusions
to my other unfinished pieces, so that, all at once, they again
possessed a living interest for me, and I related to my friends the
designs I had formed, and the entire plans. This gave rise to the
expression of wishes and urgent requests, and gave the game entirely
into Herder's hands, while he attempted to induce me to take back
these papers, and, above all, to bestow upon the _Iphigenia_ the
pains it well deserved. The fragment which lies before me is rather a
sketch than a finished piece; it is written in poetical prose, which
occasionally falls into a sort of Iambical rhythm, and even imitates
other syllabic metres. This, indeed, does great injury to the effect
unless it is read well, and unless, by skilful turns, this defect is
carefully concealed. He pressed this matter on me very earnestly, and
as I concealed from him as well as the rest the great extent of my
intended tour, and as he believed I had nothing more in view than a
mountain trip, and as he was always ridiculing my geographical and
mineralogical studies, he insisted I should act much wiser if, instead
of breaking stones, I would put my hand to this work. I could not but
give way to so many and well-meant remonstrances; but, as yet, I have
had no opportunity to turn my attention to these matters. I now detach
_Iphigenia_ from the bundle and take her with me as my fellow-traveller
into the beautiful and warm country of the South. The days are so long,
and there will be nothing to disturb reflection, while the glorious
objects of the surrounding scenery by no means depress the poetic
nerve; indeed, assisted by movement and the free air, they rather
stimulate and call it forth more quickly and more vividly.
* * * * *
FROM THE BRENNER TO VERONA.
_Trent, morning of the 11th Sept._
After full fifty hours, passed in active and constant occupation,
I reached here about 8 o'clock yesterday evening, and soon after
retired to rest, so that I now find myself in condition to go on
with my narrative. On the evening of the 9th, when I had closed the
first portion of my diary, I thought I would try and draw the inn
and post-house on the Brenner, just as it stood. My attempt was
unsuccessful, for I missed the character of the place; I went home
therefore in somewhat of an ill-humor. Mine host asked me if I would
not depart, telling me it was moon-light and the best travelling.
Although I knew perfectly well that, as he wanted his horses early in
the morning to carry in the after-crop (_Grummet_), and wished to have
them home again in time for that purpose, his advice was given with a
view to his own interest, I nevertheless took it, because it accorded
with my own inclination. The sun reappeared, the air was tolerable, I
packed up, and started about 7 o'clock. The blue atmosphere triumphed
over the clouds, and the evening was most beautiful.
[Sidenote: Trent.]
The postilion fell asleep, and the horses set off at a quick trot
down-hill, always taking the well-known route. When they came to a
village they went somewhat slower. Then the driver would wake up, and
give them a fresh stimulus, and thus we descended at a good pace with
high rocks on both sides of us, or by the banks of the rapid river
Etsch. The moon arose and shed her light upon the massive objects
around. Some mills, which stood between primæval pine-trees, over the
foaming stream, seemed really everlasting.
When, at 9 o'clock, I had reached Sterzingen, they gave me clearly to
understand, that they wished me off again. Arriving in Mittelwald,
exactly at 12 o'clock, I found everybody asleep except the postilion,
and we were obliged to go on to Brixen, where I was again taken off in
like manner, so that at the dawn of day I was in Colman. The postilions
drove so fast that there was neither seeing nor hearing, and although
I could not help being sorry at travelling through this noble country
with such frightful rapidity; and at night, too, as though I was
flying the place, I nevertheless felt an inward joy, that a favorable
wind blew behind me, and seemed to hurry me towards the object of my
wishes. At day-break I perceived the first vineyard. A woman with
pears and peaches met me, and thus we went on to Teutschen, where
I arrived at 7 o'clock, and then was again hurried on. After I had
again travelled northwards for a while, I at last saw in the bright
sunshine the valley where Botzen is situated. Surrounded by steep and
somewhat high mountains, it is open towards the south, and sheltered
towards the north by the Tyrolese range. A mild, soft air pervaded the
spot. Here the Etsch again winds towards the south. The hills at the
foot of the mountain are cultivated with vines. The vinestocks are
trained over long but low arbourwork; the purple grapes are gracefully
suspended from the top, and ripen in the warmth of the soil, which is
close beneath them. In the bottom of the valley, which for the most
part consists of nothing but meadows, the vine is cultivated in narrow
rows of similar festoons, at a little distance from each other, while
between grows the Indian corn, the stalks of which at this time are
high. I have often seen it ten feet high. The fibrous' male blossom is
not yet cut off, as is the case when fructification has ceased for some
time.
I came to Botzen in a bright sunshine. A good assemblage of mercantile
faces pleased me much. Everywhere one sees the liveliest tokens. An
existence full of purpose, and highly comfortable. In the square some
fruit-women were sitting with round fiat baskets, above four feet in
diameter, in which peaches were arranged side by side, so as to avoid
pressure. Here I thought of a verse, which I had seen written on the
window of the inn at Ratisbon:
Comme les pêches et les melons
Sont pour la bouche d'un Baron,
Ainsi les verges et les bâtons
Sont pour les fous, dit Salomon.
It is obvious that this was written by a northern baron, and no less
clear is it that if he were in this country, he would alter his notions.
At the Botzen fair a brisk silk-trade is carried on. Cloths are also
brought here, and as much leather as can be procured from the mountain
districts. Several merchants, however, came chiefly for the sake of
depositing their money, taking orders, and opening new credits. I felt
I could have taken great delight in examining the various products
that were collected here; but the impulse, the state of disquiet,
which keeps urging me from behind, would not let me rest, and I must
at once hasten from the spot. For my consolation, however, the whole
matter is printed in the statistical papers, and we can, if we require
it, get such instructions from books. I have now to deal only with
the sensible impressions, which no book or picture can give. In fact,
I am again taking interest in the world, I am testing my faculty of
observation, and am trying how far I can go with my science and my
acquirements, how far my eye is clear and sharp, how much I can take in
at a hasty glance, and whether those wrinkles, that are imprinted upon
my heart, are ever again to be obliterated. Even in these few days, the
circumstance that I have had to wait upon myself, and have always been
obliged to keep my attention and presence of mind on the alert, has
given me quite a new elasticity of intellect. I must now busy myself
with the currency, must change, pay, note down, write, while I formerly
did nothing but think, will, reflect, command, and dictate.
[Sidenote: Botzen--Trent.]
From Botzen to Trent the stage is nine leagues and runs through a
valley, which constantly increases in fertility. All that merely
struggles into vegetation on the higher mountains, has here more
strength and vitality; the sun shines with warmth, and there is once
more belief in a Deity.
A poor woman cried out to me to take her child into my vehicle, as the
hot soil was burning its feet. I did her this little service out of
honour to the strong light of heaven. The child was strangely decked
out, but I could get nothing from it in any way.
The Etsch flows more gently in these parts, and it makes broad deposits
of gravel in many places. On the land, near the river and up the
hills, the planting is so thick and close, that one fancies one thing
will suffocate the other. It is a regular thicket of vineyards,
maize, mulberry trees, apples, pears, quinces, and nuts. The danewort
(_Attig_) thrives luxuriantly on the walls. Ivy with solid stems runs
up the rocks, on which it spreads itself; the lizards glide through the
interstices, and whatever has life or motion here, reminds one of the
most charming works of art. The braided top-knots of the women, the
bared breasts and light jackets of the men, the fine oxen which you see
driven home from market, the laden asses,--all combine to produce one
of Heinrich Roos's animated pictures. And when evening draws on, and
through the calmness of the air, a few clouds rest upon the mountains,
rather standing than running against the sky, and, as immediately after
sunset, the chirp of the grasshoppers begins to grow loud, one feels
quite at home in the world, and not a mere exile. I am as reconciled to
the place as if I were born and bred in it, and had now just returned
from a whaling expedition to Greenland. Even the dust, which here as
in our fatherland often plays about my wheels, and which has so long
remained strange to me, I welcome as an old friend. The bell-like voice
of the cricket is most piercing, and far from unpleasant. A cheerful
effect is produced, when playful boys whistle against a field of such
singers, and you almost fancy that the sound on each side is raised by
emulation. The evening here is perfectly mild no less than the day.
If any one who lived in the South, or came from the South, heard my
enthusiasm about these matters, he would consider me very childish.
Ah, what I express here, I long ago was conscious of, while ruffling
under an unkindly sky; and now I love to experience as an exception the
happiness which I hope soon to enjoy as a regular natural necessity.
* * * * *
_Trent, the evening of the 10th Sept._
I have wandered about the city, which has an old, not to say a very
primitive look, though there are new and well-built houses in some of
the streets. In the church there is a picture in which the assembled
council of the Jesuits is represented, listening to a sermon delivered
by the general of the order. I should like to know what he is trying to
palm upon them. The church of these fathers may at once be recognised
from the outside by pilasters of red marble on the façade. The doors
are covered by a heavy curtain, which serves to keep off the dust. I
raised it, and entered a small vestibule. The church itself is parted
off by an iron grating, but so that it can be entirely overlooked. All
was as silent as the grave, for divine service is no longer performed
here. The front door stood open, merely because all churches must be
open at the time of Vespers.
[Sidenote: Trent.]
While I stood considering the architecture, which was, I found, similar
to other Jesuit churches, an old man stepped in, and at once took off
his little black cap. His old faded black coat indicated that he was a
needy priest. He knelt down before the grating, and rose again after
a short prayer. When he turned round, he said to himself half-aloud:
"Well, they have driven out the Jesuits, but they ought to have paid
them the cost of the church. I know how many thousands were spent on
the church and the seminary." As he uttered this he left the spot,
and the curtain fell behind him. I, however, lifted it again, and
kept myself quiet. He remained a while standing on the topmost step,
and said: "The Emperor did not do it; the Pope did it." With his
face turned towards the street, so that he could not observe me, he
continued: "First the Spaniards, then we, then the French. The blood
of Abel cries out against his brother Cain!" And thus he went down
the steps and along the street, still talking to himself. I should
conjecture he is one who, having been maintained by the Jesuits, has
lost his wits in consequence of the tremendous fall of the order, and
now comes every day to search the empty vessel for its old inhabitants,
and, after a short prayer, to pronounce a curse upon their enemies.
A young man, whom I questioned about the remarkable sights in the
town, showed me a house, which is called the "Devil's house," because
the devil, who is generally too ready to destroy, is said to have
built it in a single night, with stones rapidly brought to the spot.
However, what is really remarkable about the house, the good man had
not observed, namely, that it is the only house of good taste that I
have yet seen in Trent, and was certainly built by some good Italian,
at an earlier period. At 5 o'clock in the evening I again set off.
The spectacle of yesterday evening was repeated, and at sun-set the
grasshoppers again began to sing. For about a league the journey lies
between walls, above which the grape-espaliers are visible. Other
walls, which are not high enough, have been eked out with stones,
thorns, &c., to prevent passengers from plucking off the grapes. Many
owners sprinkle the foremost rows with lime, which renders the grapes
uneatable, but does not hurt the wine, as the process of fermentation
drives out the heterogeneous matter.
* * * * *
_Evening of September 11._
I am now at Roveredo, where a marked distinction of language begins;
hitherto, it has fluctuated between German and Italian. I have now, for
the first time, had a thoroughly Italian postilion, the inn-keeper does
not speak a word of German, and I must put my own linguistic powers to
the test. How delighted I am that the language I have always most loved
now becomes living--the language of common usage.
* * * * *
_Torbole, 12th September (after dinner)._
How much do I wish that my friends were with me for a moment to enjoy
the prospect, which now lies before my eyes.
I might have been in Verona this evening but a magnificent natural
phenomenon was in my vicinity--Lake Garda, a splendid spectacle, which
I did not want to miss, and now I am nobly rewarded for taking this
circuitous route. After 5 o'clock I started from Roveredo, up a side
valley, which still pours its waters into the Etsch. After ascending
this, you come to an immense rocky bar, which you must cross in
descending to the lake. Here appeared the finest calcareous rocks for
pictorial study. On descending you come to a little village on the
northern end of the lake, with a little port, or rather landing-place,
which is called Torbole. On my way upwards I was constantly accompanied
by fig-trees, and, descending into the rocky atmosphere, I found the
first olive-tree full of fruit. Here also, for the first time, I found
as a common fruit those little white figs, which the Countess Lanthieri
had promised me.
A door opens from the chamber in which I sit into the court-yard below.
Before this I have placed my table, and taken a rough sketch of the
prospect. The lake may be seen for its whole length, and it is only at
the end, towards the left, that it vanishes from our eyes. The shore,
which is inclosed on both sides by hill and mountain, shines with a
countless number of little hamlets.
After midnight the wind blows from north to south, and he who wishes
to go down the lake must travel at this time, for a few hours before
sunset the current of air changes, and moves northward. At this time,
the afternoon, it blows strongly against me, and pleasantly qualifies
the burning heat of the sun. Volkmann teaches me that this lake was
formerly called "Benacus," and quotes from Virgil a line in which it
was mentioned:
"Fluctibus et fremiter resonans, Benace, marino."
This is the first Latin verse, the subject of which ever stood visibly
before me, and now, in the present moment, when the wind is blowing
stronger and stronger, and the lake casts loftier billows against the
little harbour, it is just as true as it was hundreds of years ago.
Much, indeed, has changed, but the wind still roars about the lake, the
aspect of which gains even greater glory from a line of Virgil's.
The above was written in a latitude of 45° 50'.
* * * * *