the honestest fellow in the world, though he candidly confesses his
countrymen are rather apt to be roguishly inclined. On my application to
a vetturino to take me to Rome, he demanded 13 piastres, (58_s._ 6_d._)
and told me he must be four days and a half on the road. I offered him
10; (9 is the usual sum, but I have known it done for 7½, besides the
_buona mano_) he replied, that he was not like other Italians, but
always treated with German sincerity. I then applied at the office of
the government courier, where I found that the fare to Terracina was
nine ducats. (33_s._ 9_d._) They could make no agreement beyond, but
observed that the courier himself would perhaps make such an engagement.
The courier assured me that the office place was taken; that he must
submit to great inconvenience in giving up his own place to accommodate
me; that he was totally incapable of a lie, or of taking any advantage
of travellers, and that he could do nothing for me under 22 piastres.
(4_l._ 19_s._) Terracina is more than half-way, and I therefore went
back to the office and secured the office place, which in spite of the
asseverations of my man of honour, was not taken. The courier’s vettura
will carry four persons, two of whom are sheltered above and on the
sides; the other two are entirely exposed. We set out at two o’clock on
the 27th, and I believe he felt a little ashamed in meeting me as the
only passenger. Perhaps it was in consequence of this feeling, that when
we were hardly out of Naples, he stopt at a wine-house, and repeated his
calls so frequently, as to get completely drunk. After sickness and
sleep had relieved him, a worse misfortune occurred, for, deceived I
believe by the doubtful light of the moon, the postillion drove over a
bank and overturned us. Nobody was materially hurt, but I bruised my
head, and the carriage was much broken, which contributed to the
discomfort of the rest of the journey. “_O mamma mia, mamma mia_,”
exclaimed the poor post-boy, “_Sarà la rovina di casa mia. O mamma
mia!_” He did not however confine himself to lamentations, but exerted
himself strenuously to raise the carriage, and the bodily exertion
seemed to be necessary to allay his mental feelings. We sent off a boy
who had attended us, I know not why, in one direction, and the soldier
who escorted us in another. We had struck a light, and set the vehicle
on its wheels again before any assistance arrived, but we were not able
of ourselves to replace it in the road: four soldiers at last came, and
we found ourselves once more in a condition to proceed. The post-boy
offered to the soldiers twenty-five grains, which he said was all he
had. They were refused with so good a grace, and with such expressions
of good-will, that I was vexed to find the refusal a mere trap to get
more. After all, as they had come two miles in the night; the recompense
was not at all in proportion to the trouble, or the occasion.
We arrived at Terracina about nine o’clock in the morning, and I had to
wait there for the Roman courier till four in the afternoon, which gave
me an opportunity of visiting the remains of Anxur. I had on a former
occasion walked through the present town,[42] which stands a little out
of the road, and therefore leaving it on the left, kept up the high and
rocky hill, which is considered to have been the situation of the
ancient city. There is a great extent of wall remaining, all of _opus
incertum_ and early rubble-work. The gateway by which I entered appears
to have been finished in an arch, but all the vaulting stones are gone.
The walls are flanked by semicircular towers, which seem in the lower
part to have been solid masses, at least I could discover no appearance
of an opening. There are one or two ruined tombs near the summit of the
hill, and various fragments of walls, but the largest remaining
antiquity is a fine gallery of thirteen arches, and as many rooms
opening into it, usually called the palace of Theodoric; and as it is
known that he sometimes resided here, such a destination is not
improbable; but the existing portion so strongly resembles the
substructions so frequently met with of Roman villas, that I am tempted
to attribute to it an earlier origin. There is likewise a smaller
edifice, exhibiting the same general disposition, but parts of it are
certainly of later date. On the stucco of this are traces of paintings
of the heads of saints; and it probably has been at one time part of a
monastery.
From the top of this hill there is a magnificent view. Some of the
mountains on the north-east were covered with snow. They appeared to me
less distant than the island of Ischia, and must be the Monte Agatone of
Orgiazzi’s map of Italy, lying near the lake of Celano; but it was snow
of this season, not perennial.
Returning to the inn, I at length found the Roman courier, and learnt
that the fare to Rome was ten scudi; forty-five shillings for sixty
miles seemed a very high price, and I suspected that the fare from Rome
to Terracina must be considerably less, but I had no alternative. We
arrived at Rome about four o’clock in the morning, and for some hours I
could find no shelter for my head but in a coffee-room, some of which
are open all night.
On revisiting Rome I determined to make a trial to find some letters
which I had heard of, but which never reached me. On inquiry I found,
that after three months’ probation in the office, all letters directed,
not only to Rome, but to all cities in the Roman states, are deposited
in an upper chamber. I readily got admission, and was left with one
clerk to hunt as long as I pleased. I calculated, on counting those of
one box which I looked over, and comparing it with what I saw around me,
that there could not be less than 200,000 letters in this room. Being
deposited in succession every month, a slight degree of arrangement
dependant on the date was observable, but this seemed mere accident. We
looked over about 5000, amongst which, I found two to myself; one of
May, 1817, and one of August, 1818.
My present residence at Rome is almost as unfavourable for providing
materials for letters as a residence in London would be. I am entering
into numerous little details either of construction or ornament, reading
what I can procure of Roman antiquities, sometimes drawing, sometimes
merely noting what I have observed; employments carrying little or no
interest except to an architect or antiquary; and indeed an architect at
Rome can hardly escape something of the latter character. Some things I
had seen very imperfectly on my former residence; a few others in the
neighbourhood I had not visited at all.[43] My society is almost
exclusively English, and I see but little of them. There is one
exception; I have made acquaintance with a young Italian student in
architecture, with whom I am much pleased, and who spends a great deal
of time with me. We have been to Tivoli together, but even there I do
not find any thing new which would interest you, though, if there were
the same sort of pleasure in turning to description, as there is in
revisiting these beautiful scenes, you would never be tired of it.
Sometimes I go to a play; but whether I am grown more fastidious, or
that the theatres are really not so well provided as they were in a
former year, they do not attract me much. Sometimes I attend a
preaching. The Padre Pacifico has the reputation of being the best
preacher now in Rome, and he is certainly a very eloquent man. The most
common fault of the Italian preachers is, that they strive too hard to
be pathetic; but there is of course less of this in their best
preachers, than in those of inferior merit. Followers generally
caricature their leader. We may observe too, both in the theatres and
the pulpit, that the best performers have the least of that peculiar
chant which belongs to the Italian language, and which in England I have
heard admired as one of its great excellences. On one occasion I
listened to a Capuchin preaching in the Coliseum; his subject was a
comparison between the Virgin Mary, and the river Jordan; which descends
from Lebanon, as the virgin descended from heaven; and he added a great
deal of stuff, which you would not thank me for remembering. I asked one
of the more respectable clergy why such conduct was permitted? and he
pleaded that it was necessary to please the lower classes with nonsense,
as hogs are fed with garbage. To amuse and to cheat the people has been
too often the endeavour of those who think themselves called to rule the
world; but if they vitiate the taste of the multitude by furnishing them
with unwholesome food, it is the fault of the teachers, not of the
people, if the latter lose their relish for plain and salutary truths;
and this argument seems to come with a very bad grace from the Roman
Catholic clergy. The watchfulness over the press, and the refusal of the
scriptures to the people, can only be defended on the plea of refusing
to them, not only every thing but good and wholesome food, but all such
as they can by any means misdigest, if I may coin a word, and continue
my metaphor. Particular truths may be hurtful at certain times, general
ones are good at all times; and he who imagines that the multitude is
incapable of understanding the principles which guide his own conduct,
has either mistaken his way, or is led by vanity to attribute to himself
a superiority over his fellow-creatures which he does not possess.
On another occasion I heard a priest catechizing some children in the
same place. Among other things he questioned them as to how many sorts
of sin there were, and how many sorts of repentance. The children
certainly understood neither question nor answer. All that they could
learn was, when their teacher pronounced one set of syllables, to reply
in another set furnished for them; and fortunate that it was so. What
should they learn, but that all sin is displeasing to God, and that a
deep and heartfelt sorrow, accompanied with earnest desires to do better
in future, is the only true repentance? To attempt to make them nice
casuists is certainly not the way to make them honest men.
Canova has done me the honour to consult me about a church which he is
going to build at Posanio in the Venetian states, his native place. It
is to consist of a dome 90 feet in diameter, with a portico copied from
the Parthenon. I doubt if the parts will harmonize well, but as that was
already decided, I contented myself with suggesting a few minor
alterations, which will not be adopted. I inquired of the architect how
much it would cost. He said that he could not tell how much it would
cost at Posanio, where the stone was at hand, and where the peasantry
would probably assist considerably, without compensation; but that in
Rome such a building could not be executed for less than 250,000 crowns.
It is a noble thing for such a man as Canova to lay out his money in
public edifices, and it is very pleasing to contemplate the willingness
of the peasantry to assist in a useful work, where their parts are
likely soon to be forgotten. In England it is difficult to find people
who will play the second fiddle at their own expense, since all the
honour and praise go to the leader.
We have had a scheme for dragging the Tiber, which is a most palpable
job; yet I meet persons eager about it, who are not at all likely to
have any share of the profits. I have just made a calculation, that if
the expenses amount to 33,000 crowns, which is the proposed sum; and the
value of the objects found to 72,576 crowns, which seems quite as much
as can reasonably be expected; then the Pope, who contributes nothing,
would claim to the value of 27,216; the director or superintendent would
receive for his services 12,360; and the subscribers would receive their
money back again, losing nothing but the interest for two years.
The fêtes here in honour of the emperor are very splendid, and the
illumination of St. Peter’s finer than any thing I had been able to
imagine, in spite of all the descriptions I had heard of it. All the
leading lines of the architecture were marked with lamps, which appeared
very brilliant, and from the great extent of the edifice, superior to
any thing I had before seen. Suddenly at one hour of the night, _i. e._
about an hour and a quarter after sunset, the sudden inflammation of all
the greater lamps, or _lampioni_, almost made it doubtful if the
previous illumination had existed. The operation of lighting these
_lampioni_ over the whole building did not occupy three minutes. It is
said that above six hundred men are employed for the purpose, and the
effect is quite magical. After this, came the fireworks at Castle St.
Angelo. A flight of 4,500 rockets (and very fine rockets) made a
complete canopy of fire. You may suppose that a circular building, near
200 feet in diameter, rising on a large, square basement, and standing
entirely detached, is an admirable place for such an exhibition; and
every advantage is made of the situation.
Another night we had a festival, with illuminations and fireworks at the
Capitol, at the same hour of the evening; the effect was superb. What
pleased me best was a fountain of fire, which seemed to rise with the
rushing force of a Chinese gerb from the centre of a bason, and fell
copiously over its circumference in the softer fire of the Roman candle.
Inside, the rooms were hung with white and coloured draperies,
ornamented with gold stars. The emperor may I think be satisfied with
his reception from the government, but I do not know whether he will
like that from the people, who seem to behold him at best with great
indifference. I am told they are displeased with him for having given up
the title of Roman emperor, a whimsical source of discontent. His
manners are merely negative; not haughty and distant, but at the same
time without any thing gracious or prepossessing.
LETTER LIX.
JOURNEY TO FLORENCE—PISA
_Pisa, 18th May, 1819._
THERE was so great a scarcity of _vetture_ at Rome, that I could not get
away till the 30th of April, and then it was along the road by Perugia,
which I had seen at my leisure and did not intend to revisit. I had
pleasant companions, and a civil and obliging vetturino, which makes a
great deal of difference in the comfort of an Italian journey. We slept
the first night at Cività Castellana. The second day we were detained
above an hour at Narni by one of the party, who being a canonico, and
the day a _festa_, could not eat till he had attended mass; and not
finding any priest performing, was obliged to officiate himself. From
Terni we made an excursion to visit the cascade, but it was in a soaking
rain, as was the case during the greater part of the three first days of
our journey. On the fourth it was finer; and we engaged our driver to
stop at the Madonna degli Angeli, a noble church built by Vignola, while
we walked up to Assisi, seated on a hill about two miles from the road.
It is a neat city, with very steep streets, and the inhabitants saluted
us with great civility and an appearance of kindness, unlike the sort of
half-sulkiness we meet with in those bordering on the Campagna di Roma.
Here is an ancient Corinthian temple, or at least a portico, almost
entire. The columns are on high plinths, or plain pedestals, between
which the steps are formed; the foliage of the capitals is like that of
the Greek capitals of the temple of Vesta at Rome, or of Castor and
Pollux at Cora. A thick stucco covers the flutes, and almost fills up
the scotia. It is perhaps an addition, but the stone is roughly worked,
and must have been intended for stucco.
The Cathedral has a curious Gothic front. The nave is a continued vault,
without groins, and without windows; and this comparatively dark avenue,
leading to a spacious, and well lighted centre, pleased me much. From
this I went to the Convent of St. Francis, a very extensive pile, and
finely placed. There are two churches, one over the other: in the lower
of these they were celebrating the forty hours (_i. e._ the consecrated
wafer is exposed during that time). The building, naturally gloomy, was
very much darkened for the purpose, while the high altar was brilliantly
illuminated, and here again was a very fine, picturesque effect. The
Italians frequently darken their churches, in order to enhance the
splendour of the altar, and perhaps also because they consider a degree
of gloom as favourable to religious impressions; but in general they
require that the building should be naturally light, to exhibit the
riches of the architecture, and the painting and sculpture with which it
is adorned; as well as to admit a character of cheerfulness and
splendour in their gayer festivals. The Roman Catholics press all the
lighter emotions of the heart into the service of religion, which with
us maintains a more solemn and serious character. The upper church is a
simple, Gothic hall, with some very interesting early paintings. It is
without side aisles, pretty well proportioned, although it might perhaps
have been more lofty, and much, and perhaps rather gaudily, ornamented.
Yet certainly painting and gilding, if well applied, tend to deepen the
impression, even of the most severe and solemn styles of architecture.
Below Assisi is a large church built by Vignola, and dedicated to Santa
Maria degli Angeli. The meaning of this title I cannot tell you, but it
is not uncommon in Italy. It is a fine church, but without any great
display externally. Internally, the vault of the nave is unbroken by
windows, and only receives a chastened light from those of the side
aisles. The effect is solemn and beautiful. The choir has windows in the
vault, and thus brings into comparison the two methods, certainly to the
disadvantage of the latter. In the centre is a small Gothic building,
which is an object of great veneration, as having been the residence of
St. Francis. On the outside of the church is a long cistern, with
twenty-six spouts of water continually running into it; in England we
should have been content with one or two, but the twenty-six keep the
water so much the purer, and it is one of the charms of Italian
architecture, that the imagination is not continually dragged down to
listen to the excuses of a painful economy. We passed Perugia without
stopping, and slept at a miserable inn called Casa del Piano. At Arezzo
we only got out for a few minutes to see the cathedral, and reached
Florence about half-past six in the evening of the fifth day, in a
soaking rain.
The short time I spent at Florence on this visit passed very pleasantly
among artists and botanists. I have been introduced to Benvenuti, the
best painter in Florence, and perhaps in Italy. In design and
composition he is decidedly superior to Camuccini of Rome; indeed I know
no paintings in which the story is more clearly and distinctly told than
in those of this artist. In expression and colouring, he is equal to the
Roman; in drawing, both as to truth, and beauty of form, he is inferior.
He looked at my sketches; and I am happy to find that I have enough to
tire out every body; for when the attention begins to be fatigued, it
leaves the imagination at liberty to suppose them more, and better, than
they really are. Sr. Digni di Cambray and Puccianti are architects to
the grand duke. The latter conducted me to some alterations in the Pitti
palace. He was covering rooms 25 feet wide (this is a guess) with a
simple vault of bricks laid flatwise, but in a diagonal direction, in
plaster. The bricks are 12 inches long, 6 wide, and 2 thick, so that the
latter dimension is the thickness of the vault, except occasional ribs
formed by another course of bricks, also laid flat; no centering is
used, except a cut board as a guide; and the vault thus formed, may be
walked over without danger.
I did not on my former visits say any thing to you about the Academy in
this place, and I will now endeavour to supply the deficiency. I first
visited the school of design; the drawings used as copies are far
inferior to those of Rome, both in selection and execution. The
exclusive admiration of the Tuscans for what is Tuscan, is here a great
disadvantage. The collection of casts is a very good one, but in many of
the figures, the parts have not been carefully put together; it occupies
three rooms. In architecture and ornament, the Academy of San Lucca has
the advantage; whether you consider the means of instruction, or the
progress actually made by the pupils. The library is not rich in large
folios; and what is an artist’s library without them? The gallery of
painting contains some good Peruginos, and many pictures which are
admired by the Tuscans, merely because they are Tuscan. However, if they
have little charm for the painter, they possess much interest, as
elucidations of the history of the art.
Another subject of attention which I have before neglected, is the
execution of pictures and ornaments in hard stones (_pietre dure_) such
as agates and jaspers, which are usually inlaid in some dark coloured
stone. It is a government manufacture, but I inquired what might be
estimated as the expense of a moderate sized slab of porphyry, with an
inlaid wreath and quiver, and was informed that it would be about 6000
sequins. It is a beautiful and durable manufacture, but by no means in
proportion to the expense. The performers speak with a sort of contempt
of the easily made mosaics of Rome. The museum of the grand duke
contains very considerable treasures in natural history, but is chiefly
celebrated for its anatomical wax models, particularly those relating to
childbirth; perhaps not the best subject for an exhibition so completely
public, but admirable for the truth and accuracy of imitation.
On the 11th of May I went up Monte Asenario with Dr. Carlo Passerini,
assistant professor of botany here. The distance from Florence is about
eleven miles, and nearly all of it on an ascent. It is passable for a
carriage, except about half a mile from the summit, which I should think
must be as much as 2000 feet above the Arno. The view presents a great
succession of wild, Apennine scenery, consisting of steep banks and
angular ridges, rather than of rocks and precipices, a great deal of
brushwood, but little timber. To the east, one point arose, with a few
spots of snow, which I judge to be the mountain whence the Tiber takes
its rise. To the west and north-west were several snowy summits. The
botany offered perhaps more rarities to an Italian than to an
Englishman. There were some Alpine plants, and a few others which I had
not seen before, and several English plants which my companion
considered as prizes. We stopt at a villa of the grand duke called
Pratolino. He has lately extended its bounds; and its future circuit,
for the late accessions are not yet united in a common fence, will
exceed five miles. What is now included (and the present extent is
considerable) is really in the English style; with too many serpentine
walks perhaps, a defect not uncommon in our country, but without all the
ins and outs, and crincum-crancums of what is usually called on the
continent an English garden. The mixture of fine trees and lawns, with
the views of the deep and cultivated valley below, and occasionally of
the wider vale of the Arno, form a delightful scene.
I took leave of my Florentine friends on Thursday, and on Friday the
14th of May set off for Leghorn. The road has little hill, but the
valley of the Arno, sometimes extending into a rich and extensive plain,
sometimes contracted between steep and rocky banks, half covered with
stone pines, forms a continued source of interest. To the north, at a
distance rose the Apennines, still tipped with snow in various places,
and in particular one abrupt mountain almost detached from the rest,
formed a bold and magnificent object. On all this we turned our backs in
order to reach Leghorn, and passed about sixteen miles of dead flat,
everywhere cultivated. There are pretty high hills, perhaps of an
elevation of six or seven hundred feet, beginning about two or three
miles from the city, which greatly embellish the scene. Leghorn is a
lively, bustling place, with wider streets than most of the Italian
cities, bordered, not with palaces, but with respectable looking houses;
these are usually very lofty, and the lowest, or perhaps the two lowest
stories are often appropriated to the purpose of warehouses. I have to
mount two pair of stairs to reach the lowest floor of my inn, and the
magazines below, contain, among other things, a quantity of salt fish,
whose perfume is certainly no recommendation to the apartments above.