erected, and see how they are disfigured by the mean filthy necessities
of the people, how the plans of most of them exceeded the means of
those who undertook them, and how little these precious monuments of
one lofty mind are adapted to all else around, the thought occurs, that
it is just the same with everything else; for we receive but little
thanks from men, when we would elevate their internal aspirations, give
them a great idea of themselves, and make them feel the grandeur of a
really noble existence. But when one cajoles them, tells them tales,
and helping them on from day to day, makes them worse, then one is
just the man they like; and hence it is that modern times take delight
in so many absurdities. I do not say this to lower my friends, I only
say that they are so, and that people must not be astonished to find
everything just as it is.
How the Basilica of Palladio looks by the side of an old castellated
kind of a building, dotted all over with windows of different sizes
(whose removal, tower and all, the artist evidently contemplated),--it
is impossible to describe--and besides I must now, by a strange effort,
compress my own feelings, for, I too, alas! find here side by side both
what I seek and what I fly from.
* * * * *
_Sept._ 20.
Yesterday we had the opera, which lasted till midnight, and I was
glad to get some rest. The _three Sultanesses_ and the _Rape of the
Seraglio_ have afforded several tatters, out of which the piece has
been patched up, with very little skill. The music is agreeable to the
ear, but is probably by an amateur; for not a single thought struck
me as being new. The _ballets_, on the other hand, were charming. The
principle pair of dancers executed an _Allemande_ to perfection.
The theatre is new, pleasant, beautiful, modestly magnificent, uniform
throughout, just as it ought to be in a provincial town. Every box
has hangings of the same color, and the one belonging to the _Capitan
Grande_, is only distinguished from the rest, by the fact that the
hangings are somewhat longer.
The _prima donna_, who is a great favorite of the whole people, is
tremendously applauded, on her entrance, and the "gods" are quite
obstreperous with their delight, when she does anything remarkably
well, which very often happens. Her manners are natural, she has a
pretty figure, a fine voice, a pleasing countenance, and, above all, a
really modest demeanour, while there might be more grace in the arms.
However, I am not what I was, I feel that I am spoiled, I am spoiled
for a "god."
* * * * *
_Sept._ 21.
To-day I visited Dr. Tura. Five years ago he passionately devoted
himself to the study of plants, formed a _herbarium_ of the Italian
flora, and laid out a botanical garden under the superintendence of the
former bishop. However, all that has come to an end. Medical practice
drove away natural history, the _herbarium_ is eaten by worms, the
bishop is dead, and the botanic garden is again _rationally_ planted
with cabbages and garlic.
Dr. Tura is a very refined and good man. He told me his history with
frankness, purity of mind, and modesty, and altogether spoke in a very
definite and affable manner. At the same time he did not like to open
his cabinets, which perhaps were in no very presentable condition. Our
conversation soon came to a stand-still.
* * * * *
_Sept._ 21. _Evening._
I called upon the old architect Scamozzi, who has published an edition
of _Palladio's buildings_, and is a diligent artist, passionately
devoted to his art. He gave me some directions, being delighted with
my sympathy. Among Palladio's buildings there is one, for which I
always had an especial predilection, and which is said to have been
his own residence When it is seen close, there is far more in it than
appears in a picture. I should have liked to draw it, and to illuminate
it with colors, to show the material and the age. It must not, however,
be imagined that the architect has built himself a palace. The house
is the most modest in the world, with only two windows, separated from
each other by a broad space, which would admit a third. If it were
imitated in a picture, which should exhibit the neighbouring houses at
the same time, the spectator would be pleased to observe how it has
been let in between them. Canaletto was the man who should have painted
it.
* * * * *
[Sidenote: Vicenza.]
To-day I visited the splendid building which stands on a pleasant
elevation about half a league from the town, and is called the
"Rotonda." It is a quadrangular building, enclosing a circular hall,
lighted from the top. On all the four sides, you ascend a broad
flight of steps, and always come to a vestibule, which is formed
of six Corinthian columns. Probably the luxury of architecture was
never carried to so high a point. The space occupied by the steps and
vestibules is much larger than that occupied by the house itself;
for every one of the sides is as grand and pleasing as the front of
a temple. With respect to the inside it may be called habitable, but
not comfortable. The hall is of the finest proportions, and so are the
chambers; but they would hardly suffice for the actual wants of any
genteel family in a summer-residence. On the other hand it presents a
most beautiful appearance, as it is viewed on every side throughout
the district. The variety which is produced by the principal mass, as,
together with the projecting columns, it is gradually brought before
the eyes of the spectator who walks round it, is very great; and the
purpose of the owner, who wished to leave a large trust-estate, and at
the same time a visible monument of his wealth, is completely obtained.
And while the building appears in all its magnificence, when viewed
from any spot in the district, it also forms the point of view for a
most agreeable prospect. You may see the Bachiglione flowing along,
and taking vessels down from Verona to the Brenta, while you overlook
the extensive possessions which the Marquis Capra wished to preserve
undivided in his family. The inscriptions on the four gable-ends, which
together constitute one whole, are worthy to be noted down:
Marcus Capra Gabrielis filius
Qui ædes has
Arctissimo primogenituræ gradui subjecit
Una cum omnibus
Censibus agris vallibus et collibus
Citra viam magnam
Memorise perpetuæ mandans hæc
Dum sustinet ac abstinet.
The conclusion in particular is strange enough. A man who has at
command so much wealth and such a capacious will, still feels that he
must _bear_ and _forbear._ This can be learned at a less expense.
* * * * *
_Sept._ 22.
This evening I was at a meeting held by the academy of the "Olympians."
It is mere play-work, but good in its way, and seems to keep up a
little spice and life among the people. There is the great hall by
Palladio's theatre, handsomely lighted up; the _Capitan_ and a portion
of the nobility are present, besides a public composed of educated
persons, and several of the clergy; the whole assembly amounting to
about five hundred.
The question proposed by the president for to-day's sitting was this:
"Which has been most serviceable to the fine arts, invention or
imitation?" This was a happy notion, for if the alternatives which are
involved in the question are kept duly apart, one may go on debating
for centuries. The academicians have gallantly availed themselves
of the occasion, and have produced all sorts of things in prose and
verse,--some very good.
Then there is the liveliest public. The audience cry _bravo_, and clap
their hands and laugh. What a thing it is to stand thus before one's
nation, and amuse them in person! We must set down our best productions
in black and white; every one squats down with them in a corner, and
scribbles at them as he can.
[Sidenote: Vicenza.]
It may be imagined that even on this occasion Palladio would be
continually appealed to, whether the discourse was in favour of
invention or imitation. At the end, which is always the right place for
a joke, one of the speakers hit on a happy thought, and said that the
others had already taken Palladio away from him, so that he, for his
part, would praise Franceschini, the great silk-manufacturer. He then
began to show the advantages which this enterprising man, and through
him the city of Vicenza, had derived from imitating the Lyonnese and
Florentine stuffs, and thence came to the conclusion that imitation
stands far above invention. This was done with so much humour, that
uninterrupted laughter was excited. Generally those who spoke in favor
of imitation obtained the most applause, for they said nothing but
what was adapted to the thoughts and capacities of the multitude.
Once the public, by a violent clapping of hands, gave its hearty
approval to a most clumsy sophism, when it had not felt many good--nay,
excellent things, that had been said in honour of invention. I am very
glad I have witnessed this scene, for it is highly gratifying to see
Palladio, after the lapse of so long a time, still honoured by his
fellow-citizens, as their polar-star and model.
* * * * *
_Sept._ 22.
This morning I was at Tiene, which lies north towards the mountains,
where a new building has been erected after an old plan, of which
there may be a little to say. Thus do they here honour everything
that belongs to the good period, and have sense enough to raise a
new building on a plan which they have inherited. The _château_ is
excellently situated in a large plain, having behind it the calcareous
Alps, without any mountains intervening. A stream of living water flows
along the level causeway from each side of the building, towards those
who approach it, and waters the broad fields of rice through which one
passes.
I have now seen but two Italian cities, and for the first time, and
have spoken with but few persons, and yet I know my Italians pretty
well. They are like courtiers, who consider themselves the first
people in the world, and who, on the strength of certain advantages,
which cannot be denied them, can indulge with impunity in so
comfortable a thought. The Italians appear to me a right good people.
Only one must see the children and the common people as I see them now,
and can see them, while I am always open to them,--nay, always lay
myself open to them. What figures and faces there are!
It is especially to be commended in the Vicentians, that with them one
enjoys the privileges of a large city. Whatever a person does, they
do not stare at him, but if he addresses them, they are conversable
and pleasant, especially the women, who please me much. I do not
mean to find fault with the Veronese women; they are well made and
have a decided pupil, but they are, for the most part, pale, and the
_Zendal_ is to their disadvantage, because one looks for something
charming under the beautiful costume. I have found here some very
pretty creatures, especially some with black locks, who inspire me with
peculiar interest. There are also fairer beauties who, however, do not
please me so well.
* * * * *
_Padua, Sept._ 26. _Evening._
In four hours I have this day come here from Vicenza, crammed luggage
and all into a little one-seated chaise, called a "_Sediola._"
Generally the journey is performed with ease in three hours and a
half, but as I wished to pass the delightful day-time in the open air,
I was glad that the _Vetturino_ fell short of his duty. The route
goes constantly southwards over the most fertile plains, and between
hedges and trees, without further prospect, until at last the beautiful
mountains, extending from the east towards the south, are seen on the
right hand. The abundance of the festoons of plants and fruit, which
hang over walls and hedges, and down the trees, is indescribable. The
roofs are loaded with gourds, and the strangest sort of cucumbers are
hanging from poles and trellises.
From the observatory I could take the clearest survey possible of
the fine situation of the town. Towards the north are the Tyrolese
mountains, covered with snow, and half hidden by clouds, and joined
by the Vicentian mountains on the north-west. Then towards the west
are the nearer mountains of Este, the shapes and recesses of which
are plainly to be seen. Towards the south-east is a verdant sea of
plants, without a trace of elevation, tree after tree, bush after
bush, plantation after plantation, while houses, villas, and churches,
dazzling with whiteness, peer out from among the green. Against the
horizon I plainly saw the tower of St. Mark's at Venice, with other
smaller towers.
* * * * *
[Sidenote: Padua.]
_Padua, Sept._ 27.
I have at last obtained the works of Palladio, not indeed the original
edition, which I saw at Vicenza, where the cuts are in wood, but a
fac-simile in copper, published at the expense of an excellent man,
named Smith, who was formerly the English consul at Venice. We must
give the English this credit, that they have long known how to prize
what is good, and have a magnificent way of diffusing it.
On the occasion of this purchase I entered a book-shop, which in Italy
presents quite a peculiar appearance. Around it are arranged the books,
all stitched, and during the whole day good society may be found in
the shop, which is a lounge for all the secular clergy, nobility, and
artists who are in any way connected with literature. One asks for a
book, opens it, and amuses himself as one can. Thus I found a knot of
half a dozen all of whom became attentive to me, when I asked for the
works of Palladio. While the master of the shop looked for the book,
they commended it, and gave me information respecting the original and
the copy; they were well acquainted with the work itself and with the
merits of the author. Taking me for an architect they praised me for
having recourse to this master in preference to all the rest, saying
that he was of more practical utility than Vitruvius himself, since he
had thoroughly studied the ancients and antiquity, and had sought to
adapt the latter to the wants of our own times. I conversed for a long
time with these friendly men, learned something about the remarkable
objects in the city, and took my leave.
Where men have built churches to saints, a place may sometimes be
found in them, where monuments to intellectual men may be set up. The
bust of Cardinal Bembo stands between Ionic columns. It is a handsome
face, strongly drawn in, if I may use the expression, and with a
copious beard. The inscription runs thus: "Petri Bembi Card. imaginem
Hier. Guerinus Ismeni f. in publico ponendam curavit ut cujus ingenii
monumenta æterna sint, ejus corporis quoque memoria ne a posteritate
desideretur."
With all its dignity the University gave me the horrors, as a building.
I am glad that I had nothing to learn in it. One cannot imagine such a
narrow compass for a school, even though, as the student of a German
university, one may have suffered a great deal on the benches of the
Auditorium. The anatomical theatre is a perfect model of the art of
pressing students together. The audience are piled one above another
in a tall pointed funnel. They look down upon the narrow space where
the table stands, and, as no daylight falls upon it, the Professor must
demonstrate by lamplight. The botanic garden is much more pretty and
cheerful. Several plants can remain in the ground during the winter, if
they are set near the walls, or at no great distance from them. At the
end of October the whole is built over, and the process of heating is
carried on for the few remaining months. It is pleasant and instructive
to walk through a vegetation that is strange to us. With ordinary
plants, as well as with other objects that have been long familiar
to us, we at last do not think at all, and what is looking without
thinking? Amidst this variety which comes upon me quite new, the idea
that all forms of plants may, perhaps, be developed from a single
form, becomes more lively than ever. On this principle alone it would
be possible to define orders and classes, which, it seems to me, has
hitherto been done in a very arbitrary manner. At this point I stand
fast in my botanical philosophy, and I do not see how I am to extricate
myself. The depth and breadth of this business seem to me quite equal.
The great square, called _Prato della Valle_, is a very wide space,
where the chief fair is held in June. The wooden booths in the
middle of it do not produce the most favourable appearance, but the
inhabitants assure me that there will soon be a _fièra_ of stone here,
like that at Verona. One has hopes of this already, from the manner in
which the _Prato_ is surrounded, and which affords a very beautiful and
imposing view.
A huge oval is surrounded with statues, all representing celebrated
men, who have taught or studied at the University. Any native or
foreigner is allowed to erect a statue of a certain size to any
countryman or kinsman, as soon as the merit of the person and his
academical residence at Padua are proved.
[Sidenote: Padua.]
A moat filled with water goes round the oval. On the four bridges
which lead up to it stand colossal figures of Popes and Doges; the
other statues, which are smaller, have been set up by corporations,
private individuals, or foreigners. The King of Sweden caused a figure
of Gustavus Adolphus to be erected, because it is said he once heard a
lecture in Padua. The Archduke Leopold revived the memory of Petrarch
and Galileo. The statues are in a good, modern style, a few of them
rather affected, some very natural, and all in the costume of their
rank and dignity. The inscriptions deserve commendation. There is
nothing in them absurd or paltry.
At any university the thought would have been a happy one (and here it
is particularly so), because it is very delightful to see a whole line
of departed worthies thus called back again. It will perhaps form a
very beautiful _Prato_, when the wooden _Fièra_ shall be removed, and
one built of stone, according to the aforesaid plan.
In the consistory of a fraternity dedicated to S. Anthony, there are
some pictures of an early date, which remind one of the old German
paintings, and also some by Titian, in which may be remarked the
great progress which no one has made on the other side of the Alps.
Immediately afterwards I saw works by some of the most modern painters.
These artists, as they could not hope to succeed in the lofty and the
serious, have been very happy in hitting the humorous. The decollation
of John by Piazetta is, in this sense, a capital picture, if one can
once allow the master's manner. John is kneeling, with his hands before
him, and his right knee on a stone, looking towards heaven. One of the
soldiers, who is binding him, is bending round on one side, and looking
into his face, as if he was wondering at his patient resignation.
Higher up stands another, who is to deal the fatal blow. He does not,
however, hold the sword, but makes a motion with his hands, like one
who is practising the stroke beforehand. A third is drawing the sword
out of the scabbard. The thought is happy, if not grand, and the
composition is striking and produces the best effect.
In the church of the _Eremitani_ I have seen pictures by Mantegna,
one of the older painters, at which I am astonished. What a sharp,
strict actuality is exhibited in these pictures! It is from this
actuality, thoroughly true, not apparent, merely and falsely effective,
and appealing solely to the imagination, but solid, pure, bright,
elaborated, conscientious, delicate, and circumscribed--an actuality
which had about it something severe, credulous, and laborious; it is
from this, I say, that the later painters proceeded (as I remarked in
the pictures of Titian), in order that by the liveliness of their own
genius, the energy of their nature illumined at the same time by the
mind of the predecessors, and exalted by their force, they might rise
higher and higher, and elevated above the earth, produce forms that
were heavenly indeed, but still true. Thus was art developed after the
barbarous period.
The hall of audience in the town-house, properly designated by the
augmentative "Salone," is such a huge inclosure that one cannot
conceive it, much less recall it to one's immediate memory. It is three
hundred feet long, one hundred feet broad, and one hundred feet high,
measured up to the roof, which covers it quite in. So accustomed are
these people to live in the open air, that the architects look out
for a market-place to over-arch. And there is no question that this
huge vaulted space produces quite a peculiar effect. It is an inclosed
infinity, which has more analogy to man's habits and feelings than
the starry heavens. The latter takes us out of ourselves, the former
insensibility brings us back to ourselves.
For the same reason I also like to stay in the Church of S. Justina.
This church, which is eighty-five feet long, and high and broad in
proportion, is built in a grand and simple style. This evening I seated
myself in a corner, and indulged in quiet contemplation. Then I felt
myself truly alone, for no one in the world, even if he had thought of
me for the moment, would have looked for me here.
Now everything ought to be packed up again, for to-morrow morning I set
off by water, upon the Brenta. It rained to-day, but now it has cleared
up, and I hope I shall be able to see the lagunes and the Bride of the
Sea by beautiful daylight, and to greet my friends from her bosom.
* * * * *
VENICE
Now it stood written on my page in the Book of Fate, that on the
evening of the 28th of September, by 5 o'clock, German time, I should
see Venice for the first time, as I passed from the Brenta into the
lagunes, and that, soon afterwards, I should actually enter: and visit
this strange island-city, this heaven-like republic. So now, Heaven be
praised, Venice is no longer to me a bare and a hollow name, which has
so long tormented me,--_me_, the mental enemy of mere verbal sounds.
As the first of the gondoliers came up to the ship (they come in order
to convey more quickly to Venice those passengers who are in a hurry),
I recollected an old plaything, of which, perhaps, I had not thought
for twenty years. My father had a beautiful model of a gondola which
he had brought with him [_from Italy_]; he set a great value upon it,
and it was considered a great treat, when I was allowed to play with
it. The first beaks of tinned iron-plate, the black gondola-gratings,
all greeted me like old acquaintances, and I experienced again dear
emotions of my childhood which had been long unknown.
I am well lodged at the sign of the _Queen of England_, not far from
the square of S. Mark, which is, indeed, the chief advantage of the
snot. My windows look upon a narrow canal between lofty houses, a
bridge of one arch is immediately below me, and directly opposite is a
narrow, bustling alley. Thus am I lodged, and here I shall remain until
I have made up my packet for Germany, and until I am satiated with the
sight of the city. I can now really enjoy the solitude for which I have
longed so ardently, for nowhere does a man feel himself more solitary
than in a crowd, where he must push his way unknown to every one.
Perhaps in Venice there is only one person who knows me, and he will
not come in contact with me all at once.
* * * * *
_Venice, September 28_, 1786.
A few words on my journey hither from Padua. The passage on the Brenta,
in the public vessel, and in good company, is highly agreeable. The
banks are ornamented with gardens and villas, little hamlets come down
to the water's edge, and the animated highroad may be seen here and
there. As the descent of the river is by means of locks, there is often
a little pause, which may be employed in looking about the country, and
in tasting the fruits, which are offered in great abundance. You then
enter your vessel again, and move on through a world, which is itself
in motion, and which is full of life and fertility.