of February, with the exception of four rainy days, a pure bright sky,
and the days towards noon almost too warm. One is tempted out into
the open air, and if till lately one spent all one's time in the city
among gods and heroes, the country has now all at once resumed its
rights, and one can scarcely tear oneself from the surrounding scenes,
lit up as they are with the most glorious days. Many a time does the
remembrance come across me how our northern artists labour to gain
a charm from thatched roofs and ruined towers--how they turn round
and round every bush and bourne, and crumbling rock, in the hope of
catching some picturesque effect; and I have been quite surprised at
myself, when I find these things from habit still retaining a hold upon
me. Be this as it may, however, within these last fourteen days I have
plucked up a little courage, and, sketch-book in hand, have wandered
up and down the hollows and heights of the neighbouring villas, and,
without much consideration, have sketched off a few little objects
characteristically southern, and Roman, and am now trying (if good luck
will come to my aid) to give them the requisite lights and shades.
It is a singular fact, that it is easy enough to clearly see and to
acknowledge what is good and the excellent, but that when one attempts
to make them one's own, and to grasp them, somehow or other they slip
away, as it were, from between one's fingers; and we apprehend them,
not by the standard of the true and right, but in accordance with
our previous habits of thought and tastes. It is only by constant
practice that we can hope to improve; but where am I to find time and a
collection of models? Still I do feel myself a little improved by the
sincere and earnest efforts of the last fourteen days.
The artists are ready enough with their hints and instructions, for I
am quick in apprehending them. But then the lesson so quickly learnt
and understood, is not so easily put in practice. To apprehend quickly
is, forsooth, the attribute of the mind, but correctly to execute that,
requires the practice of a life.
And yet the amateur, however weak may be his efforts at imitation,
need not be discouraged. The few lines which I scratch upon the paper
often hastily, seldom correctly facilitate any conception of sensible
objects; for one advances to an idea more surely and more steadily the
more accurately and precisely he considers individual objects.
Only it will not do to measure oneself with artists; every one must
go on in his own style. For Nature has made provision for all her
children; the meanest is not hindered in its existence even by that
of the most excellent. "A little man is still a man;" and with this
remark, we will let the matter drop.
I have seen the sea twice-first the Adriatic, then the Mediterranean,
but only just to look at it. In Naples we hope to become better
acquainted with it. All within me seems suddenly to urge me on: why not
sooner--why not at a less sacrifice? How many thousand things, many
quite new and for the first time, should I not have had to communicate!
* * * * *
_Rome, Feb._ 17, 1787. _Evening, after the follies of the Carnival._
I am sorry to go away and leave Moritz alone; he is going on well, but
when he is left to himself, he immediately shuts himself up and is
lost to the world. I have therefore exhorted him to write to Herder:
the letter is enclosed. I should wish for an answer, which may be
serviceable and helpful to him. He is a strange good fellow; he would
have been far more so, had he occasionally met with a friend, sensible
and affectionate enough to enlighten him as to his true state. At
present he could not form an acquaintance likely to be more blessed
to him than Herder's, if permitted frequently to write to him. He is
at this moment engaged on a very laudable antiquarian attempt, which
well deserves to be encouraged: Friend Herder could scarcely bestow his
cares better nor sow his good advice in a more grateful soil.
The great portrait of myself which Tischbein has taken in hand begins
already to stand out from the canvass. The painter has employed a
clever statuary to make him a little model in clay, which is elegantly
draperied with the mantle; with this he is working away diligently, for
it must, he says, be brought to a certain point before we set out for
Naples, and it takes no little time merely to cover so large a field of
canvass with colours.
* * * * *
[Sidenote: Rome--Italian skies.]
_Rome, Feb._ 19, 1787.
The weather continues to be finer than words can express. This has
been a day miserably wasted among fools. At nightfall I betook myself
to the Villa Medici. A new moon has just shone upon us, and below the
slender crescent I could with the naked eye discern almost the whole of
the dark disc through the perspective. Over the earth hangs that haze
of the day which the paintings of Claude have rendered so well known.
In Nature, however, the phenomenon is perhaps nowhere so beautiful
as it is here. Flowers are now springing out of the earth, and the
trees putting forth blossoms which hitherto I have been unacquainted
with; the almonds are in blossom, and between the dark-green oaks they
make an appearance as beautiful as it is new to me. The sky is like a
blight blue taffeta in the sunshine; what will it be in Naples? Almost
everything here is already green. My botanical whims gain food and
strength from all around; and I am on the way to discover new and
beautiful relations by means of which Nature--that vast prodigy, which
yet is nowhere visible--evolves the most manifold varieties out of the
most simple.
Vesuvius is throwing out both ashes and stones; in the evening its
summit appears to glow. May travailing Nature only favour us with a
stream of lava. I can scarcely endure to wait till it shall be really
my lot to witness such grand phenomena.
* * * * *
_Rome, Feb._ 21, 1787. _Ash Wednesday._
The folly is now at an end. The countless lights of yesterday evening
were, however, a strange spectacle. One must have seen the Carnival in
Rome to get entirely rid of the wish to see it again. Nothing can be
written of it: as a subject of conversation it may be amusing enough.
The most unpleasant feeling about it is, that real internal joy is
wanting--there is a lack of money, which prevents them enjoying the
morsel of pleasure, which otherwise they might still feel in it. The
great are economical, and hold back; those of the middle ranks are
without the means, and the populace without spring or elasticity. In
the last days there was an incredible tumult, but no heartfelt joy. The
sky, so infinitely fine and clear, looked down nobly and innocently
upon the mummeries.
However, as imitation is out of the question, and cannot be thought
of here, I send you, to amuse the children, some drawings of carnival
masks, and some ancient Roman costumes, which are also coloured, as
they may serve to supply a missing chapter in the "Orbis Pictus."
* * * * *
_Rome, Feb._ 21, 1787.
I snatch a few moments in the intervals of packing, to mention some
particulars which I have hitherto omitted. To-morrow we set off for
Naples. I am already delighting myself with the new scenery, which
I promise myself will be inexpressibly beautiful; and hope in this
paradise of nature, to win fresh freedom and pleasure for the study of
ancient art, on my return to sober Rome.
Packing up is light work to me, since I can now _do_ it with a merrier
heart than I had some six months ago, when I had to tear myself from
all that was most dear and precious to me. Yes, it is now a full half
year since; and of the four months I have spent in Rome, not a moment
has been lost. The boast may sound big; nevertheless, it does not say
too much.
That "Iphigenia" has arrived, I know,--may, I learn at the foot of
Vesuvius that it has met with a hearty welcome.
That Tischbein, who possesses as glorious an eye for nature as for
art, is to accompany me on this journey, is to me the subject of
great congratulation: still, as genuine Germans, we cannot throw
aside all purposes and thoughts of work. We have bought the best
of drawing-paper, and we intend to sketch away; although, in all
probability, the multitude, the beauty, and the splendour of the
objects, will choke our good intentions.
[Sidenote: Rome--The "Tasso."]
One conquest I have gained over myself. Of all my unfinished poetical
works I shall take with me none but the "Tasso," of which I have
the best hopes. If I could only know what you are now saying to
"Iphigenia," your remarks might be some guide to me in my present
labours; for the plan of "Tasso" is very similar; the subject
still more confined, and in its several parts will be even still
more elaborately finished. Still I cannot tell as yet what it will
eventually prove. What already exists of it must be destroyed; it is,
perhaps, somewhat tediously drawn out, and neither the characters nor
the plot, nor the tone of it, are at all in harmony with my present
views.
In making a clearance I have fallen upon some of your letters, and
in reading them over I have just lighted upon a reproach, that in my
letters I contradict myself. It may be so, but I was not aware of it;
for as soon as I have written a letter I immediately send it off: I
must, however, confess that nothing seems to me more likely, for I have
lately been tossed about by mighty spirits, and therefore it is quite
natural if at times I know not where I am standing.
A story is told of a skipper, who, overtaken at sea by a stormy night,
determined to steer for port. His little boy, who in the dark was
crouching by him, asked him, "What silly light is that which I see--at
one time above us and at another below us?" His father promised to
explain it to him some other day; and then he told him that it the
beacon of the lighthouse, which, to the eye now raised, now depressed,
by the wild waves, appeared accordingly sometimes above and sometimes
below. I too am steering on a passion-tossed sea for the harbour,
and if I can only manage to hold steadily in my eye the gleam of the
beacon, however it may seem to change its place, I shall at last enjoy
the wished for shore.
When one is on the eve of a departure, every earlier separation, and
also that last one of all, and which is yet to be, comes involuntarily
into one's thoughts; and so, on this occasion, the reflection enforces
itself on my mind more strongly than ever, that man is always making
far too great and too many preparations for life. For we, for
instance--Tischbein and I, that is--must soon turn our backs upon
many a precious and glorious object, and even upon our well-furnished
museum. In it there are now standing three gems for comparison, side by
side, and yet we part from them as though they were not.
* * * * *
NAPLES.
_Velletri, Feb._ 22, 1787.
We arrived here in good time. The day before yesterday the weather
became gloomy; and our fine days were overcast: still some signs of the
air seemed to promise that it would soon clear up again, and so indeed
it turned out. The clouds gradually broke, here and there appeared
the blue sky, and at last the sun shone full on our journey. We came
through Albano, after having stopped before Genzano, at the entrance
of a park, which the owner, Prince Chigi, in a very strange way holds,
but does not keep up, on which account he will not allow any one to
enter it. In it a true wilderness has been formed. Trees and shrubs,
plants and weeds grow, wither, fall, and rot at pleasure. That is all
right, and indeed could not be better. The expanse before the entrance,
is inexpressibly fine. A high wall encloses the valley, a lattice-gate
affords a view into it; then the hill ascends, upon which, above you,
stands the castle.
But now I dare not attempt to go on with the description; and I can
merely say, that at the very moment when from the summit we caught
sight of the mountains of Sezza, the Pontine Marshes, the sea and its
islands, a heavy passing shower was traversing the Marshes towards
the sea, and the light and shade, constantly changing and moving,
wonderfully enlivened and variegated the dreary plain. The effect was
beautifully heightened by the sun's beams which lit up with various
hues, the columns of smoke as they ascended from scattered and scarcely
visible cottages.
[Sidenote: Velletri--A trick upon travellers.]
Velletri is agreeably situated on a volcanic hill, which, towards the
north alone, is connected with other hills, and towards three points of
the heavens commands a wide and uninterrupted prospect.
We here visited the Cabinet of the Cavaliere Borgia, who, favoured
by his relationship with the Cardinal has managed, by means of the
Propaganda, to collect some valuable antiquities and other curiosities.
Ægyptian charms, idols cut out of the very hardest rock, some small
figures in metal, of earlier or later dates, some pieces of statuary
of burnt clay, with figures in low relief, which were dug up in the
neighbourhood, and on the authority of which one is almost tempted to
ascribe to the ancient indigenous population a style of their own in
art.
Of other kinds of varieties there are numerous specimens in this
museum. I noticed two Chinese black-painted boxes; on the sides of
one there was delineated the whole management of the silk-worm, and
on the other the cultivation of rice: both subjects were very nicely
conceived, and worked out with the utmost minuteness. Both the boxes
and their covers are eminently beautiful, and, as well as the book in
the library of the Propaganda, which I have already praised, are well
worth seeing.
It is certainly inexplicable that these treasures should be within
so short a distance of Rome, and yet should not be more frequently
visited; but perhaps the difficulty and inconvenience of getting to
these regions, and the attraction of the magic circle of Rome, may
serve to excuse the fact. As we arrived at the inn, some women, who
were sitting before the doors of their houses, called out to us, and
asked if we wished to buy any antiquities; and then, as we showed a
pretty strong hankering after them, they brought out some old kettles,
fire-tongs, and such like utensils, and were ready to die with laughing
at having made fools of us. When we seemed a little put out, our guide
assured us, to our comfort, that it was a customary joke, and that all
strangers had to submit to it.
I am writing this in a very miserable auberge, and feel neither
strength nor humour to make it any longer: therefore I must bid you a
very good night.
* * * * *
_Fondi, Feb._ 23, 1787.
We were on the road very early,--by three in the morning. As the day
broke we found ourselves on the Pontine Marshes, which have not by any
means so ill an appearance as the common description in Rome would make
out. Of course, by merely once passing over the marshes, it is not
possible to judge of so great an undertaking as that of the intended
draining of them, which necessarily requires time to test its merits;
still it does appear to me, that the works which have commenced by the
Pope's orders, will, to a great extent at least, attain the desired
end. Conceive to yourself a wide valley, which, as it stretches from
north to south, has but a very slight fall, but which towards the
east and the mountains is extremely low, but rises again considerably
towards the sea on the west. Punning in a straight line through the
whole length of it, the ancient Via Appia has been restored. On the
right of the latter the principal drain has been cut, and in it the
water flows with a rapid fall. By means of it the tract of land to the
right has been drained, and is now profitably cultivated. As far as the
eye can see, it is either already brought into cultivation or evidently
might be so, if farmers could be found to take it, with the exception
of one spot, which lies extremely low.
The left side, which stretches towards the mountains, is more difficult
to be managed. Here, however, cross-drains pass under the raised way
into the chief drain; as, however, the surface sinks again towards
the mountains, it is impossible by this means to carry off the water
entirely. To meet this difficulty it is proposed, I was told, to cut
another leading drain along the foot of the mountains. Large patches,
especially towards Terracina, are thinly planted with willows and
poplars.
The posting stations consist merely of long thatched sheds. Tischbein
sketched one of them, and enjoyed for his reward a gratification which
only he could enjoy. A white horse having broke loose had fled to the
drained lands. Enjoying its liberty, it was galloping backwards and
forwards on the brown turf like a flash of lightning; in truth it was a
glorious sight, rendered significant by Tischbein's rapture.
At the point where the ancient village of Meza once stood, the Pope
has caused to be built a large and fine building, which indicates
the centre of the level. The sight of it increases one's hopes and
confidence of the success of the whole undertaking. While thus we
travelled on, we kept up a lively conversation together, not forgetting
the warning, that on this journey one must not go to sleep; and, in
fact, we were strongly enough reminded of the danger of the atmosphere,
by the blue vapour which, even in this season of the year, hangs
above the ground. On this account the more delightful, as it was the
more longed for, was the rocky site of Terracina; and scarcely had we
congratulated ourselves at the sight of it, than we caught a view of
the sea beyond. Immediately afterwards the other side of the mountain
city presented to our eye a vegetation quite new to us. The Indian figs
were pushing their large fleshy leaves amidst the gray green of dwarf
myrtles, the yellowish green of the pomegranate, and the pale green of
the olive. As we passed along, we noticed both flowers and shrubs quite
new to, us. On the meadows the narcissus and the adonis were in flower.
For a long time the sea was on our right, while close to us on the left
ran an unbroken range of limestone rocks. It is a continuation of the
Apennines, which runs down from Tivoli and touches the sea, which it
does not leave again till you reach the Campagna di Romana, where it is
succeeded by the volcanic formations of Frescati, Alba, and Velletri,
and lastly by the Pontine Marshes. Monte Circello, with the opposite
promontory of Terracina, where the Pontine Marshes terminate, in all
probability consists also of a system of chalk rocks.
We left the sea coast, and soon reached the charming plain of Fondi.
Every one must admire this little spot of fertile and well cultivated
land, enclosed with hills, which themselves are by no means wild.
Oranges, in great numbers, are still hanging on the trees; the crops,
all of wheat, are beautifully green; olives are growing in the fields,
and the little city is in the bottom. A palm tree, which stood out a
marked object in the scenery, received our greetings. So much for this
evening. Pardon the scrawl. I must write without thinking, for writing
sake. The objects are too numerous, my resting place too wretched, and
yet my desire to commit something to paper too great. With nightfall we
reached this place, and it is now time to go to rest.
* * * * *
_S. Agata, Feb._ 24, 1787.
Although in a wretchedly cold chamber, I must yet try and give you some
account of a beautiful day. It was already nearly light when we drove
out of Fondi, and we were forthwith greeted by the orange trees which
hang over the walls on both sides of our road. The trees are loaded
with such numbers as can only be imagined and not expressed. Towards
the top the young leaf is yellowish, but below and in the middle, of
sappy green. Mignon was quite right to long for them.
After this we travelled through clean and well-worked fields of wheat,
planted at convenient distances with olive-trees. A soft breeze was
moving, and brought to the light the silvery under-surface of the
leaves, as the branches swayed gently and elegantly. It was a gray
morning; a north wind promised soon to dispel all the clouds.
Then the road entered a valley between stony but well-dressed fields;
the crops of the most beautiful green. At certain spots one saw some
roomy places, paved, and surrounded with low walls; on these the corn,
which is never carried home in sheaves, is thrashed out at once. The
valley gradually narrows, and the road becomes mountainous, bare rocks
of limestone standing on both sides of us. A violent storm followed us,
with a fall of sleet, which thawed very slowly.
The walls, of an ancient style, built after the pattern of net-work,
charmed us exceedingly. On the heights the soil is rocky, but
nevertheless planted with olive-trees wherever there is the smallest
patch of soil to receive them. Next we drove over a plain covered with
olive-trees, and then through a small town. We here noticed altars,
ancient tombstones, and fragments of every kind built up in the walls
of the pleasure-houses in the gardens. Then the lower stories of
ancient villas, once excellently built, but now filled up with earth,
and overgrown with olives. At last we caught a sight of Vesuvius, with
a cloud of smoke resting on its brow.
Molo di Gäeta greeted us again with the richest of orange-trees; we
remained there some hours. The creek before the town, which the tide
flows up to, affords one the finest of views. Following the line of
coast, on the right, till the eye reaches at last the horn of the
crescent, one sees at a moderate distance the fortress of Gäeta on the
rocks. The left horn stretches out still further, presenting to the
beholder first of all aline of mountains, then Vesuvius, and, beyond
all, the islands. Ischia lies before you nearly in the centre.
On the shore here I found, for the first time in my life, a starfish,
and an echinus thrown up by the sea; a beautiful green leaf, (_tethys
foliacea_), smooth as the finest bath paper, and other remarkable
rubble-stones, the most common being limestone, but occasionally also
serpentine, jasper, quartz, granite, breccian pebbles, porphyry, marble
of different kinds, and glass of a blue and green colour. The two
last-mentioned specimens are scarcely productions of the neighbourhood.
They are probably the debris of ancient buildings; and thus we have
seen the waves before our eyes playing with the splendours of the
ancient world. We tarried awhile, and pleased ourselves with meditating
on the nature of man, whose hopes, whether in the civilized or savage
state, are so soon disappointed.
Departing from Molo, a beautiful prospect still accompanies the
traveller, even after his quitting the sea; the last glimpse of it was
a lovely bay, of which we took a sketch. We now came upon a good fruit
country, with hedges of aloes. We noticed an aqueduct which ran from
the mountains over some nameless and orderless masses of ruins.
[Sidenote: S. Agata.]
Next comes the ferry over the Garigliano; after crossing it one passes
through tolerably fruitful districts, till we reach the mountains.
Nothing striking. At length, the first hill of lava. Here begins an
extensive and glorious district of hill and vale, over which the snowy
summits are towering in the distance. On the nearest eminence lies
a long town, which strikes the eye with an agreeable effect. In the
valley lies S. Agata, a considerable inn, where a cheerful fire was
burning in a chimney arranged as a cabinet; however, our room is
cold--no window, only shutters, which I am just hastening to close.
* * * * *
_Naples, Feb._ 25, 1787.
And here we are happily arrived at last, and with good omens enough.
Of our day's journey thus much only. We left S. Agata with sunrise, a
violent north-east wind blowing on our backs, which continued the whole
day through. It was not till noon that it was master of the clouds. We
suffered much from the cold.