The diary speaks vaguely of "many interesting pictures, the religious
ones the poorest." I remember that we greatly regretted the limitation
of our time in visiting this gallery. In the vestibule of the building
we were shown a splendid Bavaria, in a triumphal car, driving four lions
abreast, the work of Schwanthaler. This noble design so far exists only
in plaster; one would wish to see it in fine Munich bronze. Apropos of
which I must mention, but cannot describe, a visit to the celebrated
foundery in which many of the best modern statues have been cast. Here
were Crawford's noble works; here the more recent compositions of
Rogers, Miss Stebbins, and Miss Hosmer. An American naturally first
seeks acquaintance here with the works of his countrymen. He finds them
in distinguished company. The foundery keeps a plaster cast of each of
its models, and the ghosts of our heroes appear with tie-wig princes and
generals of other times, as also with poets and _litterateurs_. The
group of Goethe and Schiller, crowned and hand in hand, suggests one of
the noblest of literary reminiscences--that of the devoted and genuine
friendship of two most eminent authors, within the narrow limits of one
small society. The entireness and sincerity of each in his own
department of art alone made this possible. He who dares to be himself,
and to work out his own ideal, fears no other, however praised and
distinguished.
We visited the new and old palaces in company with a small mob of
travellers of all nations, whose disorderly tendencies were restrained
by the palace _cicerones_. These worthies did the honors of the place,
told the stories, and kept the company together. In the new palace we
were shown the frescos, the hall of the battlepieces, the famous gallery
of beauties, and the throne-room, whose whole length is adorned with
life-size statues of royal and ducal Bavarian ancestors in gilded
bronze. The throne is a great gilded chair, cushioned with crimson
velvet, the seat adorned with a huge _L_ in gold embroidery.
Of the gallery mentioned just before, I must say that its portraits are
those of society belles, not of artist beauties. However handsome,
therefore, they may have been in their ball and court dresses, there is
something conventional and unlovely in their _toute ensemble_, as a
collection of female heads. I would agree to find artists who should
make better pictures from women of the people, taken in their ordinary
costume, and with the freedom of common life in their actions and
expressions. An intangible armor of formality seems to guard the persons
of those great ladies. One imagines that one could understand their
faces better, were they translated into human nature.
In the old palace, which has now rather a deserted and denuded aspect,
we still found traces of former splendor. Among these, I remember a
state bed with a covering so heavily embroidered with gold, that eight
men are requisite to lift it. The _valet de place_ astonished us with
the price of this article; but having forgotten his statement, I cannot
astonish any one with it. Of greater interest was a room, whose walls
bore everywhere small brackets, supporting costly pieces of porcelain,
cups, _flacons_, and statuettes. Beyond this was a _boudoir_, whose
vermilion sides were nearly covered by miniature paintings, set into
them. Many of these miniatures were of great beauty and value. Clearly
the tastes of the Bavarian family were always of the most expensive.
They looked after the flower garden, and allowed the kitchen garden to
take care of itself. Of this sort was the farming of Otho and Amalia.
But peace be to them. Otho is just dead of measles, Amalia nearly dead
of vexations.
Our two days allowed us little time for the churches of Munich. The
Frauenkirche has many antiquities more interesting than its splendid
restorations. On one of its altars I found the inscription, "Holy
mother Ann, pray for us." I suppose that ever since the dogma of the
immaculate conception has become part of church discipline, the sacred
person just mentioned has found her clientele much enlarged. The new
Basilica is quite gorgeous in its adornments, but I have preserved no
minutes of them.
We had the satisfaction of seeing a number of Kaulbach's drawings, among
which were his Goethe and Schiller series, very fine and full of
interest.
One of the last of these represents Tell stepping from Gessler's boat at
the critical moment described in Schiller's drama. One of the newest to
me was a figure of Ottilie, from the Wahlverwandtschaften, hanging with
mingled horror and affection over the innocent babe of the story. The
intense distress of the young girl's countenance contrasts strongly with
the reposeful attitude of the little one. It made me ponder this
ingenious and laboriously achieved distress. The very exuberance of
Goethe's temperament, I must think, caused him to seek his sorrows in
regions quite remote from common disaster. The miseries of his
personages (vide Werther and the Wahlverwandtschaften) are far-fetched;
and the alchemy by which he turns wholesome life into sentimental
anguish brings to light no life-treasure more substantial than the fairy
gold which genius is bound to convert into value more solid.
And this was all of Munich, a place of polite tastes surely, in which
life must flow on, adorned with many pleasantnesses. Neither would
business seem to be deficient, judging from the handsome shops and
general air of prosperity. Our view of its resources was certainly most
cursory. But life is the richer even for adjourned pleasures, and we
shall never think of Munich without desiring its better acquaintance.
SWITZERLAND.
Travelling in Switzerland is now become so common and conventional as to
invite little comment, except from those who remain in the country long
enough to study out scientific and social questions, which the hasty
traveller has not time to entertain in even the most cursory matter. I
confess, for one, that I was content to be enchanted with the wonderful
beauty which feasts the eye without intermission. I was willing to
believe that the mountains had done for this people all that they should
have done, giving them political immunities, and a sort of necessary
independence, while the hardships of climate and situation keep
stringent the social bond, and temper the fierceness of individuality
with the sense of mutual need and protection. It would be, I think, an
instructive study for an American to become intimately acquainted with
the domestic features of Swiss republicanism. It is undoubtedly a system
less lax and more carefully administered than our own. The door is not
thrown open for beggary, ignorance, and rascality to vote themselves, in
the shape of their representatives, the first places in outward dignity
and efficient power. The old traditions of breeding and education are
carefully held to. Without the nonsense of aristocratic absolutism,
there is yet no confusion of orders. The mistress is mistress, and the
maid is maid. Wealth and landed property persevere in families. Great
changes of position without great talents are rare.
To our American pretensions, and to our brilliant style of
manoeuvring, the Swiss mode of life would appear a very slow business.
It seems rather to develop a high mediocrity than an array of startling
superiorities. It has, moreover, no room for daring theories and
experiments. It cannot afford a Mormon corner, a woman's-rights
platform, an endless intricacy of speculating and swindling rings.
Whether we can afford these things, future generations will determine.
There is a great deal of moral and political fancy-work done in America
which another age may put out of sight to make room for necessary
scrubbing, sweeping, and getting rid of vermin. Meantime the poor
present age works, and deceives, and dawdles, hoping to be dismissed
with the absolving edict, "She hath done what she could."
Hotels, railways, and depots in Switzerland are comfortable, and managed
with great order and system. The telegraph arrangements are admirable,
cheap, and punctual, as they might be here, if they were administered
for the people's interest, and not for the aggrandizement of private
fortunes. Living and comfort are expensive to the traveller, not
exorbitant. Subordinates neither insult nor cringe. Churches are well
filled; intelligent and intelligible doctrine is preached. Education is
valued, and liberal provision is made for those classes in which
natural disability calls for special modes of instruction. I dare not go
more into generals, from my very limited opportunity of observation.
Everything, however, in the aspect of town and country, leads one to
suppose that the average of crime must be a low one, and that the
preventing influences--so much more efficient than remedial
measures--have long, been at work. It is Protestant Switzerland which
makes this impression most strongly. In the Catholic cantons, beggary
exists and is tolerated as a thing of course; yet the Protestant element
has everywhere its representation and its influence.
Swiss Catholicism has not the slavish ignorance of Roman Catholicism.
The little painted crucifixes by the wayside indeed afflict one by their
impotence and insignificance. Not thus shall Christ be recognized in
these days. In some places their frequency reminded me of the recurrence
of the pattern on a calico or a wall paper. Yet, as a whole, one feels
that Switzerland is a Protestant power.
For specials, I must have recourse to the insufficient pages of the
diary, which give the following:--
August 13. Museum at Zurich. Lacustrine remains, in stone, flint, and
bronze; fragments of the old piles, cut with stone knives. Hand-mill for
corn, consisting of a hollow stone and a round one, concave and convex.
Toilet ornaments, in bone and bronze; a few in gold.--The Library. Lady
Jane Grey's letters, three in number; Zwingle's Greek Bible.--The
Armory. Zwingle's helmet and battle-axe; three suits of female armor;
curious shields, cannon, pikes, and every variety of personal defence.
August 14. Left Zurich at half past six A. M. for Lucerne, reaching the
latter place at half past eight. Visited Thorwaldsen's lion, whose
majestic presence I had not forgotten in twenty-three years. Yet the
Swiss hireling under foreign pay is a mischievous institution. At two P.
M. took the boat for Hergeswyl, intending to ascend from that point the
Mount Pilatus. At half past three began this ascension. The road is very
fine, and my leader was excellent; yet I had some uncomfortable moments
in the latter part of the ascent, which was in zigzag, and very steep.
Each horse cost ten francs, and each leader was to have a _trink-geld_
besides. We stopped very gladly at the earliest reached of the two
hotels which render habitable the heights of the mountain. We learned
too late that it would have been better to proceed at once to that which
stands nearly on the summit. We should thus have gained time for the
great spectacle of the sunrise on the following morning. Our view of the
sunset, too, would have been more extended. Yet we were well content
with it. Near the hotel was a very small Catholic chapel, through whose
painted windows we tried to peep. A herd of goats feeding near by made
music with their tinkling bells. Swiss sounds are as individual as Swiss
sights. Voices, horns, bells, all have their peculiar ring in these high
atmospheres.
We lay down at night with the intention of rising at a quarter of four
next morning, in order to witness the sunrise from the highest point of
the mountain. Mistaking some sounds which disturbed my slumbers for the
guide's summons, I sprang out of bed, and having no match, made a hasty
toilet in the dark, and then ran to arouse my companions. One of these,
fortunately, was able to strike a light and look at his watch. It was
just twelve, and my zeal and energy had been misdirected. When I again
awoke, it was at four A. M., already rather late for our purpose. We
dressed hastily, and vehemently started on the upward zigzag. As the
guide had not yet appeared, I carried our night bundle, but for which I
should have kept the lead of the party. Small as was its weight, I felt
it sensibly in this painful ascent, and was thankful to relinquish it
when the tardy guide came up with us. In spite of his aid, I was much
distressed for breath, and suffered from a thirst surpassing that of
fever. My ears also ached exceedingly in consequence of the rarefaction
of the atmosphere. The last effort of the ascent was made upon a ladder
pitched at such an angle that one could climb it only on hands and
knees. We reached the last peak a little late for the sunrise, but
enjoyed a near and magnificent view of the snow Alps. The diary contains
no description of this prospect. I can only remember that its coloring
and extent were wonderful. But a day of fatigue was still before us.
Breakfasting at six o'clock, we soon commenced the painful downward
journey. No "_facilis descensus_" was this, but a climbing down which
lasted three full hours. We had kept but one horse for this part of our
journey, but this was such an uncertain and stumbling beast that we
gladly surrendered him to our chief, who, in spite of this assistance,
was found more than once lying on a log, assuring us that his end was at
hand. We had little breath to spare for his consolation, but gave him a
silent and aching sympathy. A pleasant party of English girls left the
hotel when we did, one on horseback and three on foot. The hardships of
the way brought us together. I can still recall the ring of their
voices, and the freshness and sparkle of their faces, which really
encouraged my efforts. The pleasures of this descent were as intense as
its pains. The brilliant grass was enamelled with wild flowers,
exquisite in color and fragrance. The mountain air was bracing and
delightful, the details of tree and stream most picturesque. For some
reason, which I now forget, we stopped but little to take rest. At a
small chalet half way down, we enjoyed a glass of beer, and were waited
upon by a maiden in white sleeves and black bodice, her fair hair being
braided with a strip of white linen, and secured in its place by a large
pin with an ornamented head. We reached Alpenach in a state of body and
of wardrobe scarcely describable. But our minds at least were at ease.
We had done something to make a note of. We had been to the top of Mons
Pilatus.
Of Interlaken the diary preserves nothing worth transcribing. The great
beauty of the scenery made us reluctant to leave it after a few hours of
enjoyment. The appalling fashionable and watering-place aspect of the
streets and hotels, on the other hand, rendered it uncongenial to quiet
travellers, whose strength did not lie in the _clothes_ line. Our brief
stay showed us the greatest mixture and variety of people; the hotels
were splendid with showy costumes, the shops tempting with onyx,
amethyst, and crystal ornaments. We saw here also a great display of
carvings in wood. The unpaved streets were gay with equipages and donkey
parties. A sousing rain soon made confusion among them, and reconciled
us to a speedy departure.
Of Berne and Fribourg I will chronicle only the organ concerts, given to
exhibit the resources of two famous instruments. At both places we found
the organ very fine, and the musical performance very trashy. No real
organ music was given on either occasion, the _piece de resistance_
being an imitation of a thunderstorm. Both instruments seemed to me to
surpass our own great organ in beauty and variety of tone. The larger
proportions of the buildings in which they are heard may contribute to
this result. Both of these are cathedrals, with fine vaulted roofs and
long aisles, very different from the essentially civic character of the
music hall, whose compact squareness cannot deal with the immense volume
of sound thrown upon its hands by the present overgrown incum--bent.
THE GREAT EXPOSITION.
It would be unfair to American journalism not to suppose that all
possible information concerning the Great Exposition has already been
given to the great republic. There have doubtless been quires upon
quires of brilliant writing devoted to that absorbing theme. Columns
from the most authentic sources have been commanded and paid for.
American writing is rich in epithets, and we may suppose that all the
adjective splendors have been put in requisition to aid imagination to
take the place of sight. Yet, as the diversities of landscape painting
show the different views which may be taken of one nature, even so the
view taken by my sober instrument may possibly show something that has
escaped another.
I here refer to the pages of my oft-quoted diary. But alas! the wretch
deserts me in the hour of my greatest need. I find a record of my first
visit only, and that couched in one prosaic phrase as follows:
Exposition--valet, six francs.
Now, I am not a Cuvier, to reconstruct a whole animal from a single
fossil bone; nor am I a German historian, to present the picture of a
period by inventing the opposite of its records. Yet what I can report
of this great feature of the summer must take as its starting-point this
phrase: Exposition--valet, six francs.
This extravagant attendance was secured by us on the occasion of our
first visit, when, passing inside the narrow turnstile, with ready
change and eager mind, we encountered the great reality we had to deal
with, and felt, to our dismay, that spirit would help us little, and
that flesh and blood, eyes and muscles, must do their utmost, and begin
by acknowledging a defeat. Looking on the diverse paths, and flags and
buildings, we sought an Ariadne, and found at least a guide whom Bacchus
might console. Escorted by him, we entered the first great hall, with
massive machines partially displayed on one side. A _coup d'oeil_ was
what we sought on this occasion, and our movements were rapid. The Sevre
porcelains, the magnificent French and English glasses, the weighty
majolicas, the Gobelin tapestries, and the galleries of paintings,
chiefly consumed our six francs, which represented some three hours.
Magnificent services of plate, some in silver, and some in imitation of
silver, were shown to us. In another place the close clustering of men
and women around certain glass cases made us suspect the attraction of
jewelry, which may be called the sugar-plummery of aesthetics.
Insinuating ourselves among the human bees, we, too, fed our eyes on
these sweets. Diadems, necklaces, earrings, sufficient, in the hands of
a skilful Satan, to accomplish the damnation of the whole female sex,
were here displayed. I was glad to see these dangerous implements of
temptation restrained within cases of solid glass. I myself would fain
have written upon them, "Deadly poison." There are enough, however, to
preach, and I practised by running off from these disputed
neighborhoods, and passing to the contemplation of treasures which to
see is to have.
Among the Gobelins I was amazed to see a fine presentation of Titian's
Sacred and Profane Love, a picture of universal reputation. The
difficulty of copying so old and so perfect a work in tapestry made this
success a very remarkable one. Very beautiful, too, was their copy of
Guido's Aurora, and yet less difficult than the other, the coloring
being at once less subtile and more brilliant.
I remember a gigantic pyramid of glass, which arose, like a
frost-stricken fountain, in the middle of the English china and glass
department. I remember huge vases, cups as thin as egg-shell, pellucid
crystals in all shapes, a glory of hard materials and tender colors. And
I remember a department of raw material, fibres, minerals, germs, and
grains, and a department of Eastern confectionery, and one of Algerine
small work, to wit, jewelry and embroidery. An American soda fountain
caused us to tingle with renewed associations. And we hear, with
shamefaced satisfaction, that American drinks have proved a feature in
this great phenomenon. Machines have, of course, been creditable to us.
Chickering and Steinway have carried off prizes in a piano-forte tilt,
each grudging the other his share of the common victory. And our
veteran's maps for the blind have received a silver medal. Tiffany, the
New York jeweller, presents a good silver miniature of Crawford's
beautiful America. And with these successes our patriotism must now be
content. We are not ahead of all creation, so far as the Exposition is
concerned, and the things that do us most credit must be seen and
studied in our midst.
Our longest lingerings in the halls of the Exposition were among the
galleries of art. Among these the French pictures were preeminent in
interest. The group of Jerome's paintings were the most striking of
their kind, uniting finish with intensity, and both with ease. In his
choice of subjects, Jerome is not a Puritan. The much admired Almee is a
picture of low scope, excusable only as an historic representation. The
judgment of Phryne will not commend itself more to maids and matrons who
love their limits. Both pictures, however, are powerfully conceived and
colored. The "Ave Cesar" of the _morituri_ before Vitellius is better
inspired, if less well executed, and holds the mirror close in the cruel
face of absolute power.
Study of the Italian masters was clearly visible in many of the best
works of the French gallery. I recall a fine triptych representing the
story of the prodigal son in which the chief picture spoke plainly of
Paul Veronese, and his Venetian life and coloring. In this picture the
prodigal appeared as the lavish entertainer of gay company. A banquet,
shared by joyous _hetairae_, occupied the canvas. A slender compartment
on the right showed the second act of the drama--hunger, swine-feeding,
and repentance. A similar one on the left gave the pleasanter
_denouement_--the return, the welcome, the feast of forgiveness. Both of
the latter subjects were treated in _chiaro-scuro_, a manner that
heightened the contrast between the flush of pleasure and the pallor of
its consequences. Rosa Bonheur's part in the Exposition was scarcely
equal to her reputation. One charming picture of a boat-load of sheep
crossing a Highland loch still dwells in my memory like a limpid
sapphire, so lovely was the color of the water. The Russian, Swedish,
and Danish pictures surprised me by their good points. If we may judge
of Russian art by these specimens, it is not behind the European
standard of attainment. Of the Bavarian gallery, rich in works of
interest, I can here mention but two. The first must be a very large and
magnificent cartoon by Kaulbach, representing a fancied assemblage of
illustrious personages at the period of the Reformation. Luther,
Erasmus, and Melanchthon were prominent among these, the whole belonging
to a large style of historical composition.
The second was already familiar to us through a photograph seen and
admired in Munich. It is called Ste. Julie, and represents a young
Christian martyr, dead upon the cross, at whose foot a young man is
depositing an offering of flowers. The pale beauty and repose of the
figure, the massive hair and lovely head, the modesty of attitude and
attire, are very striking. The sky is subdued, clear, and gray, the
black hair standing out powerfully against it. The whole palette seems
to have been set with pure and pearly tints. One thinks the brushes that
painted this fair dove could never paint a courtesan. A single star, the
first of evening, breaks the continuity of the twilight sky. This
picture seemed as if it should make those who look at it thenceforward
more tender, and more devout. Among the English pictures, the Enemy
sowing Tares, by Millais, was particularly original--a malignant sky,
full of blight and destruction, and a malignant wretch, smiling at
mischief, and scowling at good,--a powerful figure, mighty and mean.
This picture makes one start and shudder; such must have been its
intention, and such is its success.