Germans: she therefore asked us after Riedesel, Bartels, and Münter,
all of whom she knew, and whose several characters she seemed well able
to appreciate, and to discriminate. We parted reluctantly from her, and
she seemed also unwilling to bid us farewell. An insular life has in it
something very peculiar to be thus excited and refreshed by none but
passing sympathies.
From the palace the Abbé led us to the Benedictine Monastery, and took
us to the cell of a brother of the order, whose reserved and melancholy
expression (though he was not of more than the middle age) promised but
little of cheerful conversation. He was, however, the skilful musician
who alone could manage the enormous organ in the church of this
monastery. As he rather guessed than waited to hear our request, so he
complied with it in silence. We proceeded to the very spacious church,
where, sitting down at the glorious instrument, he made its softest
notes whisper through its remotest corners, or filled the whole of it
with the crash of its loudest tones.
If you had not previously seen the organist, you would fancy that none
but a giant could exercise such power; as, however, we were already
acquainted with his personal appearance, we only wondered that the
necessary exertion had not long since worn him out.
* * * * *
_Catania, Friday, May_ 4, 1787.
Soon after dinner our Abbé arrived with a carriage, and proposed to
show us a distant part of the city. Upon entering it we had a strange
dispute about precedence. Having got up first, I had seated myself on
the left-hand side. As he ascended, he begged of me to move, and to
take the right-hand seat. I begged him not to stand on such ceremony.
"Pardon me," he replied, "and let us sit as I propose; for if I take
my place on your right, every one will believe that I am taking a ride
with you; but if I sit on your left, it is thereby indicated that you
are riding with me, that is, with him who has, in the Prince's name, to
show you the city." Against this nothing could, of course, be objected,
and it was settled accordingly.
We drove up the streets where the lava, which, in 1699, destroyed a
great part of this city, remains visible to this day. The solid lava
had been worked like any other rock,--streets had even been marked
out on its surface, and partly built. I placed under the seat of the
carriage an undoubted specimen of the molten rock, remembering that,
just before my departure from Germany, the dispute had arisen about the
volcanic origin of basalt. And I did so in many other places, in order
to have several varieties.
However, if natives had not proved themselves the friends of their
own land, had they not even laboured, either for the sake of profit
or of science, to bring together whatever is remarkable in this
neighbourhood, the traveller would have had to trouble himself long,
and to little purpose. In Naples I had received much information from
the dealer in lava, but still more instruction did I get here from the
Chevalier Gioeni. In his rich and excellently arranged museum I learned
more or less correctly to recognise the various phenomena of the lava
of Ætna; the basalt at its foot, stones in a changed state--everything,
in fact, was pointed out tome in the most friendly maimer possible.
What I saw most to be wondered at, was some zeolites from the rugged
rocks which rise out of the sea below Jaci.
As we inquired of the Chevalier which was the best course to take in
order to ascend Ætna, he would not hear of so dangerous an attempt
as trying to reach the summit, especially in the present season of
the year. "Generally," he observed, begging my pardon, however, "the
strangers who come here think far too lightly of the matter; we,
however, who are neighbours of the mountain, are quite contented if,
twice in our life, we hit on a very good opportunity to reach the
summit. _Brydone_, who was the first by his description to kindle a
desire to see this fiery peak, did not himself ascend it. Count Borch
leaves his readers in uncertainty; but, in fact, even he ascended
only to a certain height: and the same may be said of many others.
At present the snow comes down far too low, and presents insuperable
obstacles. If you would take my advice, you will ride very early some
morning for Monte Rosso, and be contented with ascending this height.
From it you will enjoy a splendid view of Ætna, and at the same time
have an opportunity of observing the old lava, which, bursting out from
that point in 1697, unhappily poured down upon the city. The view is
glorious and distinct; it is best to listen to a description for all
the rest."
* * * * *
[Sidenote: Sicily--Catania.]
_Catania, Saturday, May_ 5, 1787.
Following this good counsel, we set out early on a mule; and,
continually looking behind us on our way, reached at last the region
of the lava, as yet unchanged by time. Jagged lumps and slabs stared
us in the face, among which a chance road had been tracked out by the
beasts. We halted on the first considerable eminence. Kniep sketched
with wonderful precision, what lay before us. The masses of lava in
the foreground, the double peak of Monte Rosso on the left, right
before us the woods of Nicolosi, out of which rose the snow-capped and
slightly smoking summit. We drew near to the Red Mountain. I ascended
it. It is composed entirely of red volcanic rubbish, ashes, and stones,
heaped together. It would have been very easy to go round the mouth
of the crater, had not a violent and stormy east wind made my footing
unsteady. When I wished to go a little way, I was obliged to take off
my cloak, and then my hat was every moment in danger of being blown
into the crater, and I after it. On this account I sat down in order
to recover myself, and to take a view of the surrounding objects; but
even this position did not help meat all. The wind came direct from the
east, over the glorious land which, far and near, and reaching to the
sea, lay below me. The outstretched strand, from Messina to Syracuse,
with its bays and headlands, was before my eyes, either quite open,
or else (though only in a few small points) covered with rocks. When
I came down quite numbed, Kniep, under the shelter of the hill, had
passed his time well, and with a few light lines on the paper had
perpetuated the memory of what the wild storm had allowed me scarcely
to see, and still less to fix permanently in my mind.
Returned once more to the jaws of the Golden Lion, we found the waiter,
whom we had with difficulty prevented from accompanying us. He praised
our prudence in giving up the thought of visiting the summit, but
urgently recommended for the next day a walk by the sea to the rocks
of Jaci--it was the most delightful pleasure-trip that could be made
from Catania: but it would be well to take something to eat and drink
with us, and also utensils for warming our viands. His wife offered
herself to perform this duty. Moreover, he spoke of the jubilee there
was when some Englishmen hired a boat with a band of music to accompany
them--which made it more delightful than it was possible to form any
idea of.
The rocks of Jaci had a strong attraction for me; I had a strong desire
to knock off from them as fine zeolites as I had seen in Gioeni's
possession. It was true we might reduce the scale of the affair, and
decline the attendance of the wife; but the warning of the Englishman
prevailed over every other consideration. We gave up all thoughts of
zeolites, and prided ourselves not a little at this act of self-denial.
* * * * *
_Catania, Sunday, May_ 6, 1787.
Our clerical companion has not failed us to-day. He conducted us to
some remains of ancient architecture; in examining which, however, the
visitor needs to bring with him no ordinary talent of restoration. We
saw the remains of the great cisterns of a naumachy, and other similar
ruins, which, however, have been filled up and depressed by the many
successive destructions of the city by lava, earthquakes, and wars. It
is only those who are most accurately acquainted with the architecture
of the ancients that can now derive either pleasure or instruction from
seeing them.
The kind Abbé engaged to make our excuses for not waiting again on the
Prince, and we parted with lively expressions of mutual gratitude and
good will.
* * * * *
[Sidenote: Sicily--Taormina.]
_Taormina, Monday, May_ 7, 1787.
God be thanked that all that we have here seen this day has been
already amply described--but still more, that Kniep has resolved to
spend the whole of to-morrow in the open air, taking sketches. When you
have ascended to the top of the wall of rocks, which rise precipitously
at no great distance from the sea, you find two peaks, connected by a
semi-circle. Whatever shape this may have had originally from Nature
has been helped by the hand of man, which has formed out of it an
amphitheatre for spectators. Walls and other buildings have furnished
the necessary passages and rooms. Right across, at the foot of the
semicircular range of seats, the scene was built, and by this means the
two rocks were joined together, and a most enormous work of nature and
art combined.
Now, sitting down at the spot where formerly sat the uppermost
spectators, you confess at once that never did any audience, in any
theatre, have before it such a spectacle as you there behold. On the
right, and on high rocks at the side, castles tower in the air-farther
on the city lies below you; and although its buildings are all of
modern date, still similar ones, no doubt, stood of old on the same
site. After this the eye falls on the whole of the long ridge of Ætna,
then on the left it catches a view of the sea-shore, as far as Catania,
and even Syracuse, and then the wide and extensive view is closed by
the immense smoking volcano, but not horribly, for the atmosphere, with
its softening effect, makes it look more distant, and milder than it
really is.
If now you turn from this view towards the passage running at the back
of the spectators, you have on the left the whole wall of the rocks
between which and the sea runs the road to Messina. And then again you
behold vast groups of rocky ridges in the sea itself, with the coast of
Calabria in the far distance, which only a fixed and attentive gaze can
distinguish from the clouds which rise rapidly from it.
We descended towards the theatre, and tarried awhile among its ruins,
on which an accomplished architect would do well to employ, at least
on paper, his talent of restoration. After this I attempted to make a
way for myself through the gardens to the city. But I soon learnt by
experience what an impenetrable bulwark is formed by a hedge of agaves
planted close together. You can see through their interlacing leaves,
and you think, therefore, it will be easy to force a way through them;
but the prickles on their leaves are very sensible obstacles. If you
step on these colossal leaves, in the hope that they will bear you,
they break off suddenly; and so, instead of getting out, you fall into
the arms of the next plant. When, however, at last we had wound our way
out of the labyrinth, we found but little to enjoy in the city; though
from the neighbouring country we felt it impossible to part before
sunset. Infinitely beautiful was it to observe this region, of which
every point had its interest, gradually enveloped in darkness.
* * * * *
_Below Taormina: on the Sea-shore_, _Tuesday, May_ 8, 1787.
Kniep, whom, by good luck, I brought with me hither, cannot be praised
enough for relieving me of a burden which would have been intolerable
to me, and which goes directly counter to my nature. He has gone to
sketch in detail the objects which yesterday he took a general survey
of. He will have to point his pencil many a time, and I know not when
he will have finished, I shall have it in my power to see all these
sights again. At first I wished to ascend the height with him; but
then, again, I was tempted to remain here; I sought a corner like the
bird about to build its nest. In a sorry and neglected peasant's garden
I have seated myself, on the trunk of an orange-tree, and lost myself
in reveries. Orange-branches, on which a traveller can sit, sounds
rather strangely; but seems quite natural when one knows that the
orange-tree, left to nature, sends out at a little distance from the
root, twigs, which, in time, become decided branches.
And so, thinking over again the plan of the "Nausicaa," I formed the
idea of a dramatic concentration of the "Odyssey." I think the scheme
is not impracticable, only it will be indispensable to keep clearly in
view the difference of the Drama and the Epopée.
Kniep has come down, quite happy and delighted, and has brought back
with him two large sheets of drawing-paper, covered with the clearest
outlines. Both will contribute to preserve in my mind a perpetual
memory of these glorious days.
It must not be left unrecorded, that on this shore, and beneath the
clearest sky, we looked around us, from a little, balcony, and saw
roses, and heard the nightingales. These we are told sing here during
at least six months of the twelve.
* * * * *
_From Memory._
The activity of the clever artist who accompanies me, and my own more
desultory and feeble efforts, having now assured me the possession of
well-selected sketches of the country and its most remarkable points
(which, either in outline, or if I like, in well-finished paintings,
will be mine for ever), I have been able to resign myself more entirely
to an impulse which has been daily growing in strength. I have felt
an irresistible impulse to animate the glorious scenes by which I am
surrounded--the sea, the island, the heavens, with appropriate poetical
beings, and here, in and out of this locality, to finish a composition
in a tone and spirit such as I have not yet produced. The clear sky;
the smell of the sea, the halo which merges, as it were, into one the
sky, the headlands, and the sea--all these afforded nourishment to my
purpose; and whilst I wandered in those beautiful gardens, between
blossoming hedges of oleander, and through arbours of fruit-bearing
orange, and citron-trees, and between other trees and shrubs, which
were unknown to me, I felt the strange influence in the most agreeable
way possible.
[Sidenote: Sicily--Sketch of Nausicaa, a tragedy.]
Convinced that for me there could be no better commentary on the
"Odyssey" than even this very neighbourhood, I purchased a copy, and
read it, after my own fashion, with incredible interest. But I was also
excited by it to produce something of my own, which, strange as it
seemed at the first look, became dearer and dearer, and at last took
entire possession of me. For I entertained the idea of treating the
story of Nausicaa as the subject of a tragedy.
It is impossible for me even to say what I should have been able to
make of it, but the plan I had quite settled in my mind. The leading
idea was to paint in Nausicaa, an amiable and excellent maiden
who, wooed by many suitors, but conscious of no preference, coldly
rejected all advances, who, however, falling in love with a remarkable
stranger, suddenly alters her own conduct, and by an over-hasty avowal
of her affection compromises herself; and consequently gives rise
to a truly tragic situation. This simple fable might, I thought, be
rendered highly interesting by an abundance of subordinate motives,
and especially by the naval and insular character of the locality, and
of the personages where and among whom the scene was laid, and by the
peculiar tone it would thence assume.
The first act began with the game at ball. The unexpected acquaintance
is made; the scruple to lead him herself into the city is already the
harbinger of her love.
The second act unfolds the characters of the household of Alcinous, and
of the suitors, and ends with the arrival of Ulysses.
The third is devoted entirely to exhibiting the greatness and merits of
the new comer, and I hoped to be able in the course of the dialogue,
(which was to bring out the history of his adventures), to produce
a truly artistic and agreeable effect by representing the various
ways in which this story was received by his several hearers. During
the narrative, the passions were to be heightened, and Nausicaa's
lively sympathy with the stranger to be thrown out more and more by
conflicting feelings.
In the fourth act, Ulysses, (off the scene,) gives convincing proofs
of his valour; while the women remain, and give full scope to their
likings, their hopes, and all other tender emotions. The high favour in
which the stranger stands with all, makes it impossible for Nausicaa to
restrain her own feelings, and so she becomes irreparably compromised
with her own people. Ulysses, who, partly innocent, partly to blame,
is the cause of all this, now announces his intention to depart; and
nothing remains for the unhappy Nausicaa, but in the fifth act to seek
for an end of existence.
In this composition, there was nothing which I was not able by
experience to paint after nature. Even while travelling--even in
peril--to excite favourable feelings which, although they did not end
tragically, might yet prove painful enough, and perhaps dangerous,
and would, at all events, leave deep wounds behind--even the supposed
accidents of describing, in lively colours, for the entertainment of
others, objects observed at a great distance from home, travelling
adventures and chances of life--to be looked upon by the young as a
demigod, but by the more sedate as a talker of rhodomontade, and to
meet now with unexpected favour, and now with unexpected rebuffs--all
this caused me to feel so great an attachment to this plan, that in
thinking of it, I dreamed away all the time of my stay at Palermo, and,
indeed, of all the rest of my Sicilian tour. It was this that made
me care little for all the inconvenience and discomfort I met with;
for, on this classic ground, a poetic vein had taken possession of
me, causing all that I saw, experienced, or observed, to be taken and
regarded in a joyous mood.
After my usual habit--whether a good or a bad one--I wrote down little
or nothing of the piece; but worked in my mind the most of it, with all
the minutest detail. And there, in my mind, pushed out of thought by
many subsequent distractions, it has remained until tills moment, when,
however, I can recollect nothing but a very faint idea of it.
* * * * *
_May_ 8, 1787. _On the road to Messina._
High limestone rocks on the left. They become more deeply coloured as
you advance, and form many beautiful caves. Presently there commences a
sort of rock which may be called clay slate, or sand-stone (greywacke).
In the brooks you now meet pebbles of granite. The yellow apples of the
solanum, the red flowers of the oleander, give beauty to the landscape.
The little stream of Nisi brings down with it mica-pebbles, as do also
all the streams we afterwards came to.
* * * * *
_Wednesday, May_ 9, 1787.
Beaten by a stormy east wind, we rode between the raging sea on the
right, and the wall of rocks, from the top of which we were yesterday
looking down; but this day we have been continually at war with the
water. We had to cross innumerable brooks, of which the largest bears
the honourable title of a river. However, these streams, as well as the
gravel which they bring down with them, were easier to buffet with than
the sea, which was raging violently, and at many places dashed right
over the road against the rocks, which threw back the thick spray on
the travellers. It was a glorious sight, and its rarity to us made us
quite ready to put up with all its inconvenience.
At the same time there was no lack of objects for the mineralogical
observer. Enormous masses of limestone, undermined by the wind and the
waves, fall from time to time; the softer particles are worn away by
the continual motion of the waves, while the harder substances imbedded
in them are left behind; and so the whole strand is strewed with
variegated flints verging on the hornstone, of which I selected and
carried off many a specimen.
* * * * *
[Sidenote: Sicily-The road to Messina.]
_Messina, Thursday, May_ 10, 1787.
And so at last we arrived in Messina, where, as we knew of no lodging,
we made up our minds to pass the first night at the quarters of our
vetturino, and then look out in the morning for a more comfortable
habitation. In consequence of i his resolution, our first entrance gave
us the terrible idea of entering a ruined city. For, during a whole
quarter of an hour as we rode along, we passed ruin after ruin, before
we reached the auberge, which, being the only new building that has
sprung up in this quarter, opens to you from its first story window a
view of nothing but a rugged waste of ruins. Beyond the circle of the
stable yard not a living being of any kind was to be seen. During the
night the stillness was frightful. The doors would neither bolt nor
even close; there was no more provision here for the entertainment
of human guests than at any other of the similar posting stations.
However, we slept away very comfortably on a mattress which our
vetturino took away from beneath the very body of our host.
* * * * *
_Friday, May_ 11, 1787.
To-day we parted from our worthy muleteer, and a good largesse rewarded
him for his attentive services. We parted very amicably, after he had
first procured us a servant, to take us at once to the best inn in the
place, and afterwards to show us whatever was at all remarkable in
Messina. Our first host, in order that his wish to get rid of us might
be gratified as quickly as possible, helped to carry our boxes and
other packages to a pleasant lodging nearer to the inhabited portion
of the city--that is to say, beyond the city itself. The following
description will give some idea of it. The terrible calamity which
visited Messina and swept away twelve thousand of its inhabitants,
did not leave behind it a single dwelling for the thirty thousand who
survived. Most of the houses were entirely thrown down; the cracked and
shaking walls of the others made them quite unsafe to live in. On the
extensive meads, therefore, to the north of Messina, a city of planks
was hastily erected, of which any one will quickly form an idea who has
ever seen the Römerberg at Frankfort during the fair, or has passed
through the market-place at Leipzig; for all the retail houses and
the workshops are open towards the street, and the chief business is
carried on in front of them. Therefore, there are but few of the larger
houses even that are particularly well closed against publicity. Thus,
then, have they been living for three years, and the habits engendered
by such booth-like, hut-like, and, indeed, tent-like dwellings, has
had a decided influence on the character of the occupants. The horror
caused by this unparalleled event, the dread of its recurrence, impels
them with light-hearted cheerfulness to enjoy to the utmost the
passing moment. A dreadful expectation of a fresh calamity was excited
on 21st April--only twenty days ago, that is--by an earthquake, which
again sensibly shook the ground. We were shown a small church where
a multitude of people were crowded together at the very moment, and
perceived the trembling. Some persons who were present at the time do
not appear even yet to have recovered from their fright.
[Sidenote: Sicily--Messina.]
In seeking out and visiting these spots we were accompanied by a
friendly consul, who spontaneously put himself to much trouble on our
account--a kindness to be gratefully acknowledged in this wilderness
more than in any other place. At the same time, having learned that we
were soon about to leave, he informed us that a French merchantman was
on the point of sailing for Naples. The news was doubly welcome, as the
flag of France is a protection against the pirates.
We made our kind cicerone aware of our desire to examine the inside of
one of the larger (though still one storied) huts, and to see their
plain and extemporized economy. Just at this moment we were joined by
an agreeable person, who presently described himself to be a teacher of
French. After finishing our walk, the consul made known to him our wish
to look at one of these buildings, and requested him to take us home
with him and show us his.