before the Podestà, and by showing my papers prove to him that I was
an honest traveller. Upon this they muttered together for a while, and
then expressed their opinion that it was unnecessary, and, as I behaved
throughout with coolness and gravity, they at last left me, and turned
towards the town. I looked after them. As these rude churls moved on in
the foreground, behind them the beautiful temple of Minerva once more
caught my eye, to soothe and console me with its sight. I turned then
to the left to look at the heavy cathedral of S. Francisco, and was
about to continue my way, when one of the unarmed Sbirri, separating
himself from the rest, came up to me in a quiet and friendly manner.
Saluting me, he said, Signior Stranger, you ought at least to give me
something to drink your health, for I assure you, that from the very
first I took you to be an honourable man, and loudly maintained this
opinion in opposition to my comrades. They, however, are hot-headed and
over-hasty fellows, and have no knowledge of the world. You yourself
must have observed, that I was the first to allow the force of, and to
assent to, your remarks. I praised him on this score, and urged him
to protect all honourable strangers, who might henceforward come to
Assisi for the sake either of religion or of art, and especially all
architects, who might wish to do honour to the town, by measuring, and
sketching the temple of Minerva, since a correct drawing or engraving
of it had never yet been taken. If he were to accompany them, they
would, I assured him, give him substantial proofs of their gratitude,
and with these words I poured some silver into his hand, which, as
exceeding his expectation, delighted him above measure. He begged me
to pay a second visit to the town, remarking that I ought not on any
account to miss the festival of the Saint, on which. I might with
the greatest safety delight and amuse myself. In-deed if, being a
good-looking fellow, I should wish to be introduced to the fair sex,
he assured me that the prettiest and most respectable ladies would
willingly receive me or any stranger, upon his recommendation. He took
his leave, promising to remember me at vespers before the tomb of the
Saint, and to offer up a prayer for my safety throughout my travels.
Upon this we parted, and most delighted was I to be again alone with
nature and myself. The road to Foligno was one of the most beautiful
and agreeable walks that I ever took. For four full hours I walked
along the side of a mountain, having on my left a richly cultivated
valley.
It is but sorry travelling with a _vetturino_, it is always best
to follow at one's ease on foot. In this way had I travelled from
Ferrara to this place. As regards the arts and mechanical invention,
on which however the ease and comforts of life mainly depend, Italy,
so highly favoured by nature, is very far behind all other countries.
The carriage of the vetturino, which is still called sedia, or seat,
certainly took its origin from the ancient litters drawn by mules, in
which females and aged persons, or the highest dignitaries, used to be
carried about. Instead of the hinder mule, on whose yoke the shafts
used to rest, two wheels have been placed beneath the carriage, and
no further improvement has been thought of. In this way one is still
jolted along, just as they were centuries ago; it is the same with
their houses and everything else.
If one wishes to see realised the poetic idea of men in primeval
times, spending most of their lives beneath the open heaven, and only
occasionally, when compelled by necessity, retiring for shelter into
the caves, one must visit the houses hereabouts, especially those in
the rural districts, which are quite in the style and fashion of caves.
Such an incredible absence of care do the Italians evince, in order not
to grow old by thinking. With unheard of frivolity, they neglect to
make any preparation for the long nights of winter, and in consequence,
for a considerable portion of the year, suffer like dogs. Here, in
Foligno, in the midst of a perfectly Homeric household, the whole
family being gathered together in a large hall, round a fire on the
hearth, with plenty of running backwards and forwards and of scolding
and shouting, while supper is going on at a long table like that in the
picture of the Wedding Feast at Cana, I seize an opportunity of writing
this, as one of the family has ordered an inkstand to be brought
me,--a luxury which, judging from other circumstances, I did not look
for. These pages, however, tell too plainly of the cold and of the
inconvenience of my writing table.
In fact I am now made only too sensible of the rashness of travelling
in this country without a servant, and without providing oneself
well with every necessary. What with the ever-changing currency, the
_vetturini_, the extortion, the wretched inns, one who, like myself,
is travelling alone, for the first time in this country, hoping to
find uninterrupted pleasure, will be sure to find himself miserably
disappointed every day. However, I wished to see the country at any
cost, and even if I must be dragged to Rome on Ixion's wheel, I shall
not complain.
* * * * *
_Terni, Oct._ 27, 1786. _Evening._
Again sitting in a "cave," which only a year before suffered from
an earthquake. The little town lies in the midst of a rich country,
(for taking a circuit round the city I explored it with pleasure,) at
the beginning of a beautiful plain which lies between two ridges of
lime-stone hills. Terni, like Bologna, is situated at the foot of the
mountain range.
[Sidenote: Terni.]
Almost ever since the papal officer left me I have had a priest for
my companion. The latter appears better contented with his profession
than the soldier, and is ready to enlighten me, whom he very soon
saw to be an heretic, by answering any question I might put to him
concerning the ritual and other matters of his church. By thus mixing
continually with new characters I thoroughly obtain my object. It is
absolutely necessary to hear the people talking together, if you would
form a true and lively image of the whole country. The Italians are in
the strangest manner possible rivals and adversaries of each other;
everyone is strongly enthusiastic in the praise of his own town and
state; they cannot bear with one another, and even in the same city the
different ranks nourish perpetual feuds, and all this with a profoundly
vivacious and most obvious passionateness, so that while they expose
one another's pretensions, they keep up an amusing comedy all day long;
and yet they come to an understanding again together, and seem quite
aware how impossible it is for a stranger to enter into their ways and
thoughts.
I ascended to Spoleto and went along the aqueduct, which serves also
for a bridge from one mountain to another. The ten brick arches which
span the valley, have quietly stood there through centuries, and the
water still flows into Spoleto, and reaches its remotest quarters. This
is the third great work of the ancients that I have seen, and still the
same grandeur of conception. A second nature made to work for social
objects,--such was their architecture; and so arose the amphitheatre,
the temple, and the aqueduct. Now at last I can understand the justice
of my hatred for all arbitrary caprices, as, for instance, the winter
casts on white stone--a nothing about nothing--a monstrous piece of
confectionary ornament--and so also with a thousand other things. But
all that is now dead; for whatever does not possess a true intrinsic
vitality cannot live long, and can neither be nor ever become great.
What entertainment and instruction have I not had cause to be thankful
for during these eight last weeks, but in fact it has also cost me some
trouble. I kept my eyes continually open, and strove to stamp deep on
my mind the images of all I saw; that was all-judge of them I could
not, even if it had been in my power.
_San Crocefisso_, a singular chapel on the road side, did not look,
to my mind, like the remains of a temple which had once stood on the
same site; it was evident that columns, pillars, and pediments had
been found, and incongruously put together, not stupidly but madly. It
does not admit of description; however, there is somewhere or other an
engraving of it.
And so it may seem strange to some that we should go on troubling
ourselves to acquire an idea of antiquity, although we have nothing
before us but ruins, out of which we must first painfully reconstruct
the very thing we wish to form an idea of.
With what is called "_classical ground_" the case stands rather
different. Here, if only we do not go to work fancifully, but take
the ground really as it is, then we shall have the decisive arena
which moulded more or less the greatest of events. Accordingly I have
hitherto actively employed my geological and agricultural eye to the
suppressing of fancy and sensibility, in order to gain for myself an
unbiassed and distinct notion of the locality. By such means history
fixes itself on our minds with a marvellous vividness, and the effect
is utterly inconceivable by another. It is something of this sort that
makes me feel so very great a desire to read _Tacitus_ in Rome.
[Sidenote: Road-side fantasies.]
I must not, however, forget the weather. As I descended the Apennines
from Bologna the clouds gradually retired towards the north, afterwards
they changed their course and moved towards Lake Trasimene. Here they
continued to hang, though perhaps they may have moved a little farther
southward. Instead, therefore, of the great plain of the Po, sending as
it does, during the summer, all its clouds to the Tyrolese mountains,
it now sends a part of them towards the Apennines,--from thence perhaps
comes the rainy season.
They are now beginning to gather the olives. It is done here with the
hand, in other places they are beat down with sticks. If winter comes
on before all are gathered, the rest are allowed to remain on the trees
till spring. Yesterday I noticed, in a very strong soil, the largest
and oldest trees I have ever yet seen.
The favour of the Muses, like that of the dæmons, is not always shown
us in a suitable moment. Yesterday I felt inspired to undertake a work
which at present would be ill-timed. Approaching nearer and nearer
to the centre of Romanism, surrounded by Roman Catholics, boxed up
with a priest in a sedan, and striving anxiously to observe and to
study without prejudice true nature and noble art, I have arrived at a
vivid conviction that all traces of original Christianity are extinct
here. Indeed, while I tried to bring it before my mind in its purity,
as we see it recorded in the Acts of the Apostles, I could not help
shuddering to think of the shapeless, not to say grotesque, mass of
Heathenism which heavily overlies its benign beginnings. Accordingly
the "Wandering Jew" again occurred to me as having been a witness of
all this wonderful development and envelopment, and as having lived to
experience so strange a state of things, that Christ himself, when He
shall come a second time to gather in His harvest, will be in danger of
being crucified a second time. The Legend, "_Venio iterum crucifigi_"
was to serve me as the material of this catastrophe.
Dreams of this kind floated before me; for out of impatience to get
onwards, I used to sleep in my clothes; and I know of nothing more
beautiful than to wake before dawn, and between sleeping and waking,
to seat oneself in one's car, and travel on to meet the day.
* * * * *
_Città Castellano, October_ 28, 1786.
I will not fail you this last evening. It is not yet eight o'clock,
and all are already in bed; so I can for a good "last time" think over
what is gone by, and revel in the anticipation of what is so shortly to
come. This has been throughout a bright and glorious day; the morning
very cold, the day clear and warm, the evening somewhat windy, but very
beautiful.
It was very late when we set off from Terni, and we reached Narni
before day, and so I did not see the bridge. Valleys and lowlands;--now
near, now distant prospects;--a rich country, but all of limestone, and
not a trace of any other formation.
Otricoli lies on an alluvial gravel-hill, thrown up by one of the
ancient inundations; it is built of lava brought from the other side of
the river.
As soon as one is over the bridge one finds oneself in a volcanic
region, either of real lava, or of the native rock, changed by the
heat and by fusion. You ascend a mountain, which you might set down
at once for gray lava. It contains many white crystals of the shape
of garnets. The causeway from the heights to the Città Castellana is
likewise composed of this stone, now worn extremely smooth. The city is
built on a bed of volcanic tufa, in which I thought I could discover
ashes, pumice-stone, and pieces of lava. The view from the castle is
extremely beautiful. Soracte stands out and alone in the prospect
most picturesquely. It is probably a limestone mountain of the same
formation as the Apennines. The volcanic region is far lower than the
Apennines, and it is only the streams tearing through it, that have
formed out of it hills and rocks, which, with their overhanging ledges,
and other marked features of the landscape, furnish most glorious
objects for the painter.
To-morrow evening and I shall be in Rome. Even yet I can scarcely
believe it possible; and if this wish is fulfilled, what shall I wish
for afterwards? I know not, except it be that I may safely stand in my
little pheasant-loaded canoe, and may find all my friends well, happy,
and unchanged.
ROME.
* * * * *
_Rome, November_ 1, 1786.
At last I can speak out, and greet my friends with good humour. May
they pardon my secrecy, and what has been, as it were, a subterranean
journey hither. For scarcely to myself did I venture to say whither I
was hurrying--even on the road I often had my fears, and it was only
as I passed under the Porta del Popolo that I felt certain of reaching
Rome.
And now let me also say that a thousand times--aye, at all times, do
I think of you, in the neighbourhood of these objects which I never
believed I should visit alone. It was only when I saw every one bound
body and soul to the north, and all longing for those countries utterly
extinct among them; that I resolved to undertake the long solitary
journey, and to seek that centre towards which I was attracted by an
irresistible impulse. Indeed for the few last years it had become
with me a kind of disease, which could only be cured by the sight and
presence of the absent object. Now, at length I may venture to confess
the truth: it reached at last such a height, that I durst not look at
a Latin book, or even an engraving of Italian scenery. The craving
to see this country was over ripe. Now, it is satisfied; friends and
country have once more become right dear to me, and the return to them
is a wished for object--nay, the more ardently desired, the more firmly
I feel convinced that I bring with me too many treasures for personal
enjoyment or private use, but such as through life may serve others, as
weft as myself, for edification and guidance.
* * * * *
_Rome, November 1_, 1786.
Well, at last I am arrived in this great capital of the world. If
fifteen years ago I could have seen it in good company, with a well
informed guide, I should have thought myself very fortunate. But as it
was to be that I should thus see it alone, and with my own eyes, it is
well that this joy has fallen to my lot so late in life.
Over the mountains of the Tyrol I have as good as flown. Verona,
Vicenza, Padua, and Venice I have carefully looked at; hastily
glanced at Ferrara, Cento, Bologna, and scarcely seen Florence at
all. My anxiety to reach Rome was so great, and it so grew with me
every moment, that to think of stopping anywhere was quite out of the
question; even in Florence, I only stayed three hours. Now I am here
at my ease, and as it would seem, shall be tranquillized for my whole
life; for we may almost say that a new life begins when a man once
sees with his own eyes all that before he has but partially heard or
read of. All the dreams of my youth I now behold realized before me;
the subjects of the first engravings I ever remember seeing (several
views of Borne were hung up in an ante-room of my father's house)
stand bodily before my sight, and all that I had long been acquainted
with through paintings or drawings, engravings, or wood-cuts,
plaister-casts, and cork models are here collectively presented to my
eye. Wherever I go I find some old acquaintance in this new world; it
is all just as I had thought it, and yet all is new; and just the same
might I remark of my own observations and my own ideas. I have not
gained any new thoughts, but the older ones have become so defined, so
vivid, and so coherent, that they may almost pass for new ones.
When Pygmalion's Elisa, which he had shaped entirely in accordance
with his wishes, and had given to it as much of truth and nature as an
artist can, moved at last towards him, and said, "I am!"--how different
was the living form from the chiselled stone.
In a moral sense, too, how salutary is it for me to live awhile among a
wholly sensual people, of whom so much has been said and written, and
of whom every stranger judges according to the standard he brings with
him. I can excuse every one who blames and reproaches them; they stand
too far apart from us, and for a stranger to associate with them is
difficult and expensive.
* * * * *
[Sidenote: Rome--Festival of all souls.]
_Rome, November_ 3, 1786.
One of the chief motives which I had for hurrying to Rome was the
Festival of All Saints; for I thought within myself, if Rome pays so
much honour to a single saint, what will she not show to them all?
But I was under a mistake. The Roman Church has never been very fond
of celebrating with remarkable pomp any common festival; and so she
leaves every order to celebrate in silence the especial memory of its
own patron,--for the name Festival, and the day especially set apart
to each saint is properly the occasion when each receives his highest
commemoration.
Yesterday, however, which was the Festival of All Souls, things went
better with me. This commemoration is kept by the Pope in his private
chapel on the Quirinal. I hastened with Tischbein to the Monte Cavallo.
The piazza before the palace has something altogether singular--so
irregular is it, and yet so grand and so beautiful! I now cast eyes
upon the Colossuses! neither eye nor mind was large enough to take them
in. Ascending a broad flight of steps, we followed the crowd through a
splendid and spacious hall. In this ante-chamber, directly opposite to
the chapel, and in sight of the numerous apartments, one feels somewhat
strange to find oneself beneath the same roof with the Vicar of Christ.
The office had begun; Pope and Cardinals were already in the church.
The holy father, of a highly handsome and dignified form, the cardinals
of different ages and figures; I was seized with a strange longing
desire that the head of the Church might open his golden mouth, and
speaking with rapture of the ineffable bliss of the happy soul, set
us all too in a rapture. But as I only saw him moving backwards and
forwards before the altar, and turning himself now to this side and now
to that, and only muttering to himself, and conducting himself just
like a common parish priest, then the original sin of Protestantism
revived within me, and the well-known and ordinary mass for the dead
had no charms for me. For most assuredly Christ Himself--He who in his
youthful days, and even as a child excited men's winder by His oral
exposition of Scripture, did never thus teach and work in silence; but
as we learn from the Gospels, He was ever ready to utter His wise and
spiritual words. What, I asked myself, would He say, where He to come
in among us, and see His image on earth thus mumbling, and sailing
backwards and forwards? The "_Venio iterum crucifigi_" again crossed my
mind, and I nudged my companion to come out into the freer air of the
vaulted and painted hall.
Here we found a crowd of persons attentively observing the rich
paintings; for the Festival of All Souls is also the holiday of all the
artists in Rome. Not only the chapel, but the whole palace also, with
all its rooms, is for many hours on this day open and free to every
one, no fees being required, and the visitors not being liable to be
hurried on by the chamberlain.
The paintings on the walls engaged my attention, and I now formed a new
acquaintance with some excellent artists, whose very names had hitherto
been almost unknown to me,--for instance, I now for the first time
learned to appreciate and to love the cheerful _Carlo Maratti._
But chiefly welcome to me were the masterpieces of the artists, of
whose style and manner I already had some impression. I saw with
amazement the wonderful Petronilla of _Guercino_, which was formerly
in St. Peter's, where a mosaic copy now stands in the place of the
original. The body of the Saint is lifted out of the grave, and the
same person, just reanimated, is being received into the heights of
heaven by a celestial youth. Whatever may be alleged against this
double action, the picture is invaluable.
Still more struck was I with a picture of Titian's: it throws into the
shade all I have hitherto seen. Whether my eye is more practised, or
whether it is really the most excellent, I cannot determine. An immense
mass-robe, stiff with embroidery and gold-embossed figures, envelops
the dignified frame of a bishop. With a massive pastoral star in his
left hand, he is gazing with a look of rapture towards heaven, while
he holds in his right a book out of which he seems to have imbibed the
divine enthusiasm with which he is inspired. Behind him a beautiful
maiden, holding a palm branch in her hand, and, full of affectionate
sympathy, is looking over his shoulder into the open book. A grave old
man on the right stands quite close to the book, but appears to pay
no attention to it; the key in his hand, suggests the possibility of
his familiar acquaintance with its contents. Over against this group
a naked, well-made youth, wounded with an arrow, and in chains, is
looking straight before him with a slight expression of resignation in
his countenance. In the intermediate space stand two monks, bearing
a cross and lilies, and devoutly looking up to heaven. Then in the
clear upper space is a semi-circular wall, which encloses them all;
above moves a Madonna in highest glory, sympathising with all that
passes below. The young sprightly child on her bosom, with a radiant
countenance, is holding out a crown, and seems indeed on the point of
casting it down. On both sides angels are floating by, who hold in
their hands crowns in abundance. High above all the figures, and even
the triple-rayed aureola, soars the celestial dove, as at once the
centre and finish of the whole group.
[Sidenote: Rome--Titian--Guido.]
We said to ourselves, "Some ancient holy legend must have furnished the
subject of this picture, in order that these various and ill-assorted
personages should have been brought together so artistically and so
significantly. We ask not, however, why and wherefore,--we take it
all for granted, and only wonder at the inestimable piece of art.
Less unintelligible, but still mysterious, is a fresco of Guido's in
this chapel. A virgin, in childish beauty, loveliness, and innocence,
is seated, and quietly sewing: two angels stand by her side, waiting
to do her service at the slightest bidding. Youthful innocence and
industry,--the beautiful picture seems to tell us,--are guarded and
honoured by the heavenly beings. No legend is wanting here; no story
needed to furnish an explanation."
Now, however, to cool a little my artistic enthusiasm, a merry incident
occurred. I observed that several of the German artists, who came up to
Tischbein as an old acquaintance, after staring at me, went their ways
again. At last one, who had most recently been observing my person,
came up to me again, and said, "We have had a good joke; the report
that you were in Rome had spread among us, and the attention of us
artists was called to the one unknown stranger. Now, there was one of
our body who used for a long time to assert that he had met you--nay,
he asseverated he had lived on very friendly terms with you,--a fact
which we were not so ready to believe. However, we have just called
upon him to look at you, and solve our doubts. He at once stoutly
denied that it was you, and said that in the stranger there was not a
trace of your person or mien." So, then, at least our _incognito_ is
for the moment secure, and will afford us something hereafter to laugh
at.
I now mixed at my ease with the troop of artists, and asked them who
were the painters of several pictures whose style of art was unknown
to me. At last I was particularly struck by a picture representing
St. George killing the dragon, and setting free the virgin; no one
could tell me whose it was. Upon this a little modest man, who up to
this time had not opened his mouth, came forward and told me it was
Pordenone's, the Venetian painter; and that it was one of the best
of his paintings, and displayed all his merits. I was now well able
to account for my liking for it: the picture pleased me, because I
possessed some knowledge of the Venetian school, and was better able to
appreciate the excellencies of its best masters.
The artist, my informant, was Heinrich Meyer, a Swiss, who for some
years had been studying at Rome with a friend of the name of Rolla, and
who had taken excellent drawings in Spain of antique busts, and was
well read in the history of art.
* * * * *
_Rome, November_ 7, 1786.
I have now been here seven days, and by degrees have formed in my mind
a general idea of the city. We go diligently backwards and forwards.
While I am thus making myself acquainted with the plan of old and
new Rome, viewing the ruins and the buildings, visiting this and
that villa, the grandest and most remarkable objects are slowly and
leisurely contemplated. I do but keep my eyes open and see, and then go
and come again, for it is only in Rome one can duly prepare oneself for
Rome.
It must, in truth, be confessed, that it is a sad and melancholy
business to prick and track out ancient Rome in new Rome; however,
it must be done, and we may hope at least for an incalculable
gratification. We meet with traces both of majesty and of ruin, which
alike surpass all conception; what the barbarians spared, the builders
of new Rome made havoc of.
[Sidenote: Rome--Its present aspect.]