part of the feet, together with the sockle on which it stood, were
found within the Farnesian domain, but the legs from the knee to the
ancle were wanting, and had been supplied by Giuglielmo Porta; on these
it had stood since its discovery to the present day. In the mean time,
however, the genuine old legs were found in the lands of the Borghesi,
and were to be seen in their villa.
Recently, however, the Prince Borghese has achieved a, victory over
himself, and has made a present of these costly relics to the King
of Naples. The legs by Porta are being removed, and the genuine ones
replaced; and every one is promising himself, however well contented
he has been hitherto with the old, quite a new treat, and a more
harmonious enjoyment.
* * * * *
_Rome, January_ 18, 1787.
Yesterday, which was the festival of the Holy Abbot S. Antony, we had
a merry day; the weather was the finest in the world; though there had
been a hard frost during the night, the day was bright and warm.
One may remark, that all religions which enlarge their worship or their
speculations must at last come to this, of making the brute creation
in some degree partakers of spiritual favours. S. Anthony,--Abbot or
Bishop,--is the patron Saint of all four-footed creatures; his festival
is a kind of Saturnalian holiday for the otherwise oppressed beasts,
and also for their keepers and drivers. All the gentry must on this day
either remain at home, or else be content to travel on foot. And there
are no lack of fearful stories, which tell how unbelieving masters,
who forced their coachmen to drive them on this day, were punished by
suffering great calamities.
[Sidenote: Rome--Death of Frederick the Great.]
The church of the Saint lies in so wide and open a district, that it
might almost be called a desert. On this day, however, it is full of
life and fun. Horses and mules, with their manes and tails prettily,
not to say gorgeously, decked out with ribbons, are brought before
the little chapel, (which stands at some distance from the church,)
where a priest, armed with a brush, and not sparing of the holy water,
which stands before him in buckets and tubs, goes on sprinkling the
lively creatures, and often plays them a roguish trick, in order to
make them start and frisk. Pious coachmen offer their wax-tapers, of
larger or smaller size; the masters send alms and presents, in order
that the valuable and useful animals may go safely through the coming
year without hurt or accidents. The donkies and horned cattle, no less
valuable and useful to their owners, have, likewise, their modest share
in this blessing.
Afterwards we delighted ourselves with a long walk under a delicious
sky, and surrounded by the most interesting objects, to which, however,
we this time paid very little attention, but gave full scope and rein
to joke and merriment.
* * * * *
_Rome, January_ 19, 1787.
So then the great king, whose glory filled the world, whose deeds make
him worthy even of the Papists' paradise, has departed this life, and
gone to converse with heroes like himself in the realm of shades. How
disposed does one feel to sit still when such an one is gone to his
rest.
This has been a very good day. First of all we visited a part of the
Capitol, which we had previously neglected; then we crossed the Tiber,
and drank some Spanish wine on board a ship which had just come into
port:--it was on this spot that Romulus and Remus are said to have
been found. Thus keeping, as it were, a double or treble festival,
we revelled in the inspiration of art, of a mild atmosphere, and of
antiquarian reminiscences.
_January_ 20, 1787.
What at first furnishes a hearty enjoyment, when we take it
superficially only, often weighs on us afterwards most oppressively,
when we see that without solid knowledge the true delight must be
missed.
As regards anatomy, I am pretty well prepared, and I have, not without
some labour, gained a tolerable knowledge of the human frame; for the
continual examination of the ancient statues is continually stimulating
one to a more perfect understanding of it. In our Medico Chirurgical
Anatomy, little more is in view than an acquaintance with the several
parts, and for this purpose the _sorriest picture of the muscles_ may
serve very well; but in Rome the most exquisite parts would not even be
noticed, unless as helping to make a noble and beautiful form.
In the great Lazaretto of San Spirito there has been prepared for the
use of the artists a very fine anatomical figure, displaying the whole
muscular system. Its beauty is really amazing. It might pass for some
flayed demigod,--even a Marsyas.
Thus, after the example of the ancients, men here study the human
skeleton, not merely as an artistically arranged series of bones, but
rather for the sake of the ligaments with which life and motion are
carried on.
When now I tell you, that in the evening we also study perspective, it
must be pretty plain to you that we are not idle. With all our studies,
however, we are always hoping to do more than we ever accomplish.
* * * * *
_Rome, January_ 22, 1787.
Of the artistic sense of Germans, and of their artistic life, of these
one may well say,--One hears sounds, but they are not in unison. When
now I bethink myself what glorious objects are in my neighbourhood, and
how little I have profited by them, I am almost tempted to despair; but
then again I console myself with my promised return, when I hope to be
able to understand these master-pieces, around which now I go groping
miserably in the dark.
But, in fact, even in Rome itself, there is but little provision
made for one who earnestly wishes to study art as a whole. He must
patch it up and put it together for himself out of endless but still
gorgeously rich ruins. No doubt but few only of those who visit Rome,
are purely and earnestly desirous to see and to learn things rightly
and thoroughly. They all follow, more or less, their own fancies
and conceits, and this is observed by all alike who attend upon the
strangers. Every guide has his own object, every one has his own dealer
to recommend, his own artist to favour; and why should he not? for does
not the inexperienced at once prize, as most excellent, whatever may be
presented to him as such?
[Sidenote: Rome--The removal of Antiques.]
It would have been a great benefit to the study of art--indeed a
peculiarly rich museum might have been formed--if the government,
(whose permission even at present must be obtained before any piece
of antiquity can be removed from the city,) had on such occasions
invariably insisted on casts being delivered to it of the objects
removed. Besides, if any Pope had established such a rule, before
long every one would have opposed all further removals; for in a few
years people would have been frightened at the number and value of the
treasures thus carried off, for which, even now, permission can only be
obtained by secret influence.
* * * * *
_January_ 22, 1787.
The representation of the "Aristodemo" has stimulated, in an especial
degree, the patriotism of our German artists, which before was far
from being asleep. They never omit an occasion to speak well of my
"Iphigenia;" some passages have from time to time been again called
for, and I have found myself at last compelled to a second reading of
the whole. And thus also I have discovered many passages winch went off
the tongue more smoothly than they look on the paper.
The favorable report of it has at last sounded even in the ears of
Reiffenstein and Angelica, who entreated that I should produce my
work once more for their gratification. I begged, however, for a
brief respite, though I was obliged to describe to them, somewhat
circumstantially, the plan and movement of the plot. The description
won the approbation of these person ages more even than I could have
hoped for; and Signor Zucchi also, of whom I least of all expected
it, evinced a warm and liberal sympathy with the piece. The latter
circumstance, however, is easily accounted for by the fact that the
drama approximates very closely to the old and customary form of Greek,
French, and Italian tragedy, which is most agreeable to every one whose
taste has not been spoilt by the temerities of the English stage.
* * * * *
_Rome, Jan._ 25, 1787.
It becomes every day more difficult to fix the termination of my stay
in Rome; just as one finds the sea continually deeper the further one
sails on it, so it is also with the examination of this city.
It is impossible to understand the present without a knowledge of the
past; and to compare the two, requires both time and leisure. The very
site of the city carries us back to the time of its being founded. We
see at once that no great people, under a wise leader, settled here
from its wanderings, and with wise forecast laid the foundations of the
seat of future empire. No powerful prince would ever have selected this
spot as well suited for the habitation of a colony. No; herdsmen and
vagabonds first prepared here a dwelling for themselves: a couple of
adventurous youths laid the foundation of the palaces of the masters of
the world on _the_ hill at whose foot, amidst the marshes and the silt,
they had defied the officers of law and justice. Moreover, the seven
hills of Rome are not elevations above the land which lies beyond them,
but merely above the Tiber and its ancient bed, which afterwards became
the Campus Martius. If the coming spring is favourable to my making
wider excursions in the neighbourhood, I shall be able to describe
more fully the unfavourable site. Even now I feel the most heartfelt
sympathy with the grief and lamentation of the women of Alba whey they
saw their city destroyed, and were forced to leave its beautiful site,
the choice of a wise prince and leader, to share the fogs of the Tiber,
and to people the miserable Cœlian hill, from which their eyes still
fell upon the paradise they had been drawn from.
I know as yet but little of the neighbourhood, but I am perfectly
convinced that no city of the ancient world was worse situated than
Rome: no wonder, then, if the Romans, as soon as they had swallowed up
all the neighbouring states, went out of it, and, with their villas,
returned to the noble sites of the cities they had destroyed, in order
to live and to enjoy life.
* * * * *
_Rome, Jan._ 25, 1787.
It suggests a very pleasing contemplation to think how many people are
living here in retirement, calmly occupied with their several tastes
and pursuits. In the house of a clergyman, who, without any particular
natural talent, has nevertheless devoted himself to the arts, we saw
most interesting copies of some excellent paintings which he had
imitated in miniature. His most successful attempt was after the Last
Supper of Leonardo da Vinci. The moment of time is when the Lord, who
is sitting familiarly at supper with his disciples, utters the awful
words, "One of you shall betray me."
Hopes are entertained that he will allow an engraving to be taken
either of this or of another copy, on which he is at present engaged.
It will be indeed a rich present to give to the great public a faithful
imitation of this gem of art.
[Sidenote: Rome-Father Jacquier.]
A few days since I visited, at the Trinità de' Monte, Father Jacquier,
a Franciscan. He is a Frenchman by birth, and well known by his
mathematical writings; and although far advanced in years, is still
very agreeable and intelligent. He has been acquainted with all the
most distinguished men of his day, and has even spent several months
with Voltaire, who had a great liking for him.
I have also become acquainted with many more of such good, sterling
men, of whom countless numbers are to be found here, whom, however,
a sort of professional mistrust keeps estranged from each other. The
book-trade furnishes no point of union, and literary novelties are
seldom fruitful; and so it befits the solitary to seek out the hermits.
For since the acting of "Aristodemo," in whose favour we made a very
lively demonstration, I have been again much sought after. But it was
quite clear I was not sought for my own sake; it was always with a view
to strengthen a party--to use me as an instrument; and if I had been
willing to come forward and declare my side, I also, as a phantom,
should for a time have played a short part. But now, since they see
that nothing is to be made of me, they let me pass; and so I go
steadily on my own way.
Indeed, my existence has lately taken in some ballast, which gives it
the necessary gravity. I do not now frighten myself with the spectres
which used so often to play before my eyes. Be, therefore, of good
heart. You will keep me above water, and draw me back again to you.
* * * * *
_Rome, Jan._ 28, 1787.
Two considerations which more or less affect every thing, and which one
is compelled at every moment to give way to, I must not fail to set
down, now that they have become quite clear to me.
First of all, then, the vast and yet merely fragmentary riches of this
city, and each single object of art, is constantly suggesting the
question, To what date does it owe its existence? Winckelmann urgently
calls upon us to separate epochs, to distinguish the different styles
which the several masters employed, and the way in which, in the course
of time, they gradually perfected them, and at last corrupted them
again. Of the necessity of so doing, every real friend of art is soon
thoroughly convinced. We all acknowledge the justice and the importance
of the requisition. But now, how to attain to this conviction? However
clearly and correctly the notion itself may be conceived, yet without
long preparatory labours there will always be a degree of vagueness and
obscurity as to the particular application. A sure eye, strengthened by
many years' exercise, is above all else necessary. Here hesitation or
reserve are of no avail. Attention, however, is now directed to this
point; and every one who is in any degree in earnest seems convinced
that in this domain a sure judgment is impossible, unless it has been
formed by historical study.
The second consideration refers exclusively to the arts of the Greeks,
and endeavours to ascertain how those inimitable artists proceeded
in their successful attempts to evolve from the human form their
system of divine types, which is so perfect and complete, that neither
any leading character nor any intermediate shade or transition is
wanting. For my part, I cannot withhold the conjecture that they
proceeded according to the same laws that Nature works by, and which
I am endeavouring to discover. Only, there is in them something more
besides, which it is impossible to express.
[Sidenote: Rome--The Coliseum.]
* * * * *
_Rome, Feb._ 2, 1787.
Of the beauty of a walk through Rome by moonlight it is impossible to
form a conception, without having witnessed it. All single objects
are swallowed up by the great masses of light and shade, and nothing
but grand and general outlines present themselves to the eye. For
three several days we have enjoyed to the full the brightest and
most glorious of nights. Peculiarly beautiful at such a time is the
Coliseum. At night it is always closed; a hermit dwells in a little
shrine within its range, and beggars of all kinds nestle beneath its
crumbling arches: the latter had lit a fire on the arena, and a gentle
wind bore down the smoke to the ground, so that the lower portion
of the ruins was quite hid by it, while above the vast walls stood
out in deeper darkness before the eye. As we stopped at the gate
to contemplate the scene through the iron gratings, the moon shone
brightly in the heavens above. Presently the smoke found its way up
the sides, and through every chink and opening, while the moon lit it
up like a cloud. The sight was exceedingly glorious. In such a light
one ought also to see the Pantheon, the Capitol, the Portico of St.
Peter's, and the other grand streets and squares:--and thus sun and
moon, like the human mind, have quite a different work to do here from
elsewhere, where the vastest and yet the most elegant of masses present
themselves to their rays.
* * * * *
_Rome, Feb._ 13, 1787.
I must mention a trifling fall of luck, even though it is but a little
one. However, all luck, whether great or little, is of one kind, and
always brings a joy with it. Near the Trinità de' Monte the ground has
been lately dug up to form a foundation for the new Obelisk, and now
the whole of this region is choked up with the ruins of the Gardens of
Lucullus, which subsequently became the property of the Emperors. My
perruquier was passing early one morning by the spot, and found in the
pile of earth a flat piece of burnt clay, with some figures on it.
Having washed it, he showed it to me. I eagerly secured the treasure.
It is not quite a hand long, and seems to have been part of the stem
of a great key. Two old men stand before an altar; they are of the
most beautiful workmanship, and I am uncommonly delighted with my new
acquisition. Were they on a cameo, one would greatly like to use it as
a seal.
I have by me a collection also of many other objects, and none is
worthless or unmeaning,--for that is impossible; here everything is
instructive and significant. But my dearest treasure, however, is even
that which I carry with me in my soul, and which, every growing, is
capable of a still greater growth.
* * * * *
_Rome, Feb._ 15, 1787.
Before departing for Naples, I could not get off from another public
reading of my "Iphigenia." Madam Angelica and Hofrath Reiffenstein
were the auditory, and even Signor Zucchi had solicited to be present,
because it was the wish of his spouse. While it was reading, however,
he worked away at a great architectural plan--for he is very skilful in
executing drawings of this kind, and especially the decorative parts.
He went with Clerisseau to Dalmatia, and was the associate of all his
labours, drawing the buildings and ruins for the plates, which the
latter published. In this occupation he learned so much of perspective
and effect, that in his old days he is able to amuse himself on paper
in a very rational manner.
The tender soul of Angelica listened to the piece with incredible
profoundness of sympathy. She promised me a drawing of one of the
scenes, which I am to keep in remembrance of her. And now, just as I am
about to quit Rome, I begin to feel myself tenderly attached to these
kindhearted people. It is a source of mingled feelings of pleasure and
regret to know that people are sorry to part with you.
* * * * *
_Rome, Feb._ 16, 1787.
The safe arrival of "Iphigenia" has been announced to me in a most
cheering and agreeable way. On my way to the Opera, a letter from a
well-known hand was brought to me,--this time doubly welcome; since it
was sealed with the "Lion" a premonitory token of the safe arrival of
my packet. I hurried into the Opera-house, and bustled to get a place
among the strange faces beneath the great chandelier. At this moment
I felt myself drawn so close to my friends, that I could almost have
sprung forward to embrace them. From my heart I thank you even for
having simply mentioned the arrival of the "Iphigenia," may your next
be accompanied with a few kind words of approval.
Inclosed is the list of those among whom I wish the copies which I
am to expect from Gösche to be distributed; for although it is with
me a perfect matter of indifference how the public may receive these
matters, still I hope by them to furnish slight gratification to my
friends at least.
One undertakes too much. When I think on my last four volumes together,
I become almost giddy--I am obliged to think of them separately, and
then the fit passes off.
[Sidenote: Rome--"Iphigenia"--"Tasso."]
I should perhaps have done better had I kept my first resolution to
send these things one by one into the world, and so undertake with
fresh vigour and courage the new subjects which have most recently
awakened my sympathy. Should I not, perhaps, do better were I to write
the "Iphigenia at Delphi," instead of amusing myself with my fanciful
sketches of "Tasso." However, I have bestowed upon the latter too much
of my thoughts to give it up, and let it fall to the ground.
I am sitting in the ante-room near the chimney, and the warmth of a
fire, for once well fed, gives me courage to commence a fresh sheet,
for it is indeed a glorious thing to be able, with our newest thoughts,
to reach into the distance, and by words to convey thither an idea
of one's immediate state and circumstances. The weather is right
glorious, the days are sensibly lengthening, the laurels and box are
in blossom, as also are the almond-trees. Early this morning I was
delighted with a strange sight; I saw in the distance tall, pole-like
trees, covered over and over with the loveliest violet flowers. On a
closer examination I found it was the plant known in our hothouses as
the Judas-tree, and to botanists as the "_cercis siliquastrum._" Its
papilionaceous violet blossoms are produced directly from out of the
stem. The stakes which I saw had been lopped last winter, and out of
their bark well-shaped and deeply-tinted flowers were bursting by
thousands. The daisies are also springing out of the ground as thick as
ants; the crocus and the pheasant's eye are more rare, but even on this
account more rich and ornamental.
What pleasures and what lessons will not the more southern land impart
to me, and what new results will arise to me from them! With the things
of nature it is as with those of art; much as is written about them,
every one who sees them forms them into new combinations for himself.
When I think of Naples, and indeed of Sicily,--when I read their
history, or look at views of them, it strikes me as singular that
it should be even in these paradises of the world that the volcanic
mountains manifest themselves so violently, for thousands of years
alarming and confounding their inhabitants.
But I willingly drive out of my head the expectation of these
much-prized scenes, in order that they may not lessen my enjoyment of
the capital of the whole world before I leave it.
For the last fourteen days I have been moving about from morning to
night; I am raking up everything I have not yet seen. I am also viewing
for a second or even a third time all the most important objects,
and they are all arranging themselves in tolerable order within my
mind: for while the chief objects are taking their right places,
there is space and room between them for many a less important one.
My enthusiasm is purifying itself, and becoming more decided, and now
at last my mind can rise to the height of the greatest and purest
creations of art with calm admiration.
In my situation one is tempted to envy the artist who, by copies and
imitations of some kind or other can, as it were, come near to those
great conceptions, and can grasp them better than one who merely looks
at and reflects upon them. In the end, however, every one feels he must
do his best; and so I set all the sails of my intellect, in the hope of
getting round this coast.
The stove is at present thoroughly warm, and piled up with excellent
coals, which is seldom the case with us, as no one scarcely has time
or inclination to attend to the fire two whole hours together; I will
therefore avail myself of this agreeable temperature to rescue from my
tablets a few notes which are almost obliterated.
On the 2nd of February we attended the ceremony of blessing the tapers
in the Sistine chapel. I was in anything but a good humour, and shortly
went off again with my friends; for I thought to myself those are the
very candles which, for these three hundred years, have been dimming
those noble paintings, and it is their smoke which, with priestly
impudence, not merely hangs in clouds around the only sun of art, but
from year to year obscures it more and more, and will at last envelop
it in total darkness.
[Sidenote: Rome--Tasso's burial-place.]
We therefore sought the free air, and after a long walk came upon S.
Onofrio's, in a corner of which Tasso is buried. In the library of the
monastery there is a bust of him, the face is of wax, and I please
myself with fancying that it was taken after death: although the lines
have lost some of their sharpness, and it is in some parts injured,
still on the whole it serves better than any other I have yet seen
to convey an idea of a talented, sensitive, and refined but reserved
character.
So much for this time. I must now turn to glorious Volckmann's 2nd
part, which contains Rome, and which I have not yet seen. Before I
start for Naples, the harvest must be housed; good days are coming for
binding the sheaves.
* * * * *
_Rome, Feb._ 17, 1787.