Mola di Gaeta--Capua--Lines on leaving Naples--Return to Rome--
The Aqueducts--'Domine, quo vadis?'--St. Peter's--The Scala
Santa--Reasons in favour of San Gennaro--Ascent of St.
Peter's--Library of the Vatican--A racing _ex voto_--Illness of
George IV.--Approaching _Coup d'état_ in France--The Villa
Mills--The Malaria--Duc and Duchesse de Dalberg--The Emperor
Nicholas on his Accession--Cardinal Albani--A _Columbarium_--
Maii--Sir William Gell--Tivoli--Hadrian's Villa--The Adventures
of Miss Kelly and Mr. Swift--Audience of the Pope--Gibson's
Studio--End of Miss Kelly's Marriage--A great Function--The
Jesuits--Saint-making--San Lorenzo in Lucina--The Flagellants--
Statues by Torchlight--Bunsen on the State of Rome--Fiascati--
Relations of Protestant States with Rome--The French Ministry--
M. de Villèle--The Coliseum--Excommunication of a Thief--The
Passionists--The Corpus Domini--A Rash Marriage--Farewell to
Rome--Falls of Terni--Statue at Pratolino--Bologna--
Mezzofanti--Ferrara--Venice--Padua--Vicenza--Brescia--Verona--
Milan--Lago Maggiore--The Simplon--Geneva--Paris.
Mola di Gaeta, May 9th, 1830 {p.359}
I have dined here on an open terrace (looking over the garden and
the delicious Bay), where I have been sitting writing the whole
evening. The moon is just rising, and throwing a flood of silver
over the sea--
Rising in cloudless majesty,
Apparent queen, unveiled her peerless light
And o'er the dark her silver mantle threw.
We left Naples at half-past seven in the morning, went to
Caserta, and walked over the palace, in which nothing struck me
but the dimensions, the staircase, and a few of the rooms. The
theatre is very well contrived; it is at one end of the palace,
and the back of it opens by large folding doors into the garden,
so that they can have any depth of stage they please, and arrange
any pageants or cavalcades. This could, however, only be at a
theatre in a country house. Thence to Capua, and went over the
Amphitheatre, which is very remarkable. It is said to be larger
than the Coliseum, but the arena did not appear to me so vast.
Here we are in the land of names again, and it is impossible for
the imagination not to run over the grandeur, luxury, and fate of
Capua, for on the very spot on which I was standing (for the
chief places are ascertained) in all probability Hannibal often
sat to see the games.[1]
[1] No such thing. _His_ Capua was nearly destroyed, and if
it had an amphitheatre it would have been ruined. These
ruins must have belonged to Capua the Second, which was
restored by Augustus or Tiberius, and became as
flourishing and populous as the first had been.--
[C.C.G.]
The Italian postilions, it must be owned, are a comical set. They
sometimes go faster than ever I went in England, then at others
they creep like snails, and stop at the least inclined plane to
put on the _scarpa_. The occasions they generally select for
going fast are when they have six horses harnessed to the
carriage, and so extend about ten yards, on slippery pavement,
through very narrow streets, extremely crowded with women and
children; then they will flog their horses to full speed, and
clatter along without fear or shame. Nothing happens; I have
remarked that nothing ever does anywhere in Italy.
I have walked over this garden [at Gaeta], which contains remains
of one of Cicero's villas, but they are only arched rooms like
vaults, and not worth seeing but for the name of Cicero, and the
recollection that he was murdered almost on this spot. He had
good taste in his villas, for this bay is as placid and delicious
as that of Baiae. There is an ancient bath, which probably
belonged to the villa; it is in the sea, and still available,
when cleaned out, which just now it is not.
[Page Head: LINES ON LEAVING NAPLES]
Rome, May 10th, 1830 {p.360}
Left Mola at half-past seven and got here at ten minutes after
seven. It was so kind as to rain last night and this morning, and
lay the dust all the way. Stopped at Terracina, and went to see
the ancient port, which is worth seeing. The road is pretty all
the way, but the scenery in Italy wants verdure and foliage. The
beauty of these landscapes consists in the bold outlines, lofty
mountains, abundant vegetation, and bright atmosphere, and they
are always better to look at from a little distance than very
near. Aricia is pretty well wooded. I found a parcel of letters
with the London news; but the post is enough to drive one mad,
for I got one of the 23rd of April and another of the 19th of
March on the same day.
_ON TAKING LEAVE OF NAPLES._
(Written in a carriage between Naples and Mola di Gaeta.)
'_Nascitur poeta._'
Though not a spark of true poetic fire
Beamed at my birth, or on my cradle fell,
Though rude my numbers, and untuned my lyre,
I will not leave thee with a mute farewell.
I cannot see recede thy sunny shore,
Nor ling'ring look my last upon thy bay,
And know that they will meet my gaze no more,
Yet tearless take my unreturning way.
'Tis not that Love laments his broken toys,
Nor is it Friendship murmurs to depart,
Touching the chords of recollected joys
Which ring with sad vibration on the heart.
Nor bound am I in Habit's unfelt chain,
Which o'er the fancy steals with gradual pow'r,
Till local sympathy awakes in pain,
That slept unconscious till the parting hour.
But 'tis the charm, so great, yet undefin'd,
That Nature's self around fair Naples throws,
Which now excites and elevates the mind,
And now invites it to no dull repose.
No exhalations damp the spirits choke,
That feed on ether temp'rate and serene;
No yellow fogs, or murky clouds of smoke,
Obscure the lustre of this joyous scene.
The God of Gladness with prolific ray
Bids the rich soil its teeming womb expand,
While healthful breezes, cooled with Ocean's spray,
Scatter a dewy freshness o'er the land.
No mountain billow's huge uplifted crest
Lashes the foaming beach with sullen roar;
The smooth sea sparkles in unbroken rest,
Or lightly rakes upon the pebbled shore.
The Ocean's Monarch on these golden sands
Seems the luxurious laws of Love to own,[2]
And yield his trident to Thalassia's hands,
To rule the waters from the Baian throne.
Here the green olive, and the purple vine,
The lofty poplar and the elm espouse,
Or round the mulberry their tendrils twine,
Or creep in clusters through the ilex boughs.
A thousand flow'rs, enamelling the fields,
Declare the presence of returning spring;
A various harvest smiling Ceres yields,
And all the groves with vocal music sing.
Earth, air, and sea th' enchantment of the clime,
Revived that young elation of the breast
When Hope, undaunted, saw the form of Time
In Fancy's gay, deluding colours drest,
And though those visions are for ever fled
Which in the morning of existence rose,
And all the false and flatt'ring hopes are dead
That vainly promised a serener close.
I'll snatch the joys which spite of fate remain
To cheer life's darkness with a transient ray,
And oft in vivid fancy roam again
Through these blest regions when I'm far away.
[2] The Temple of Venus stands upon the shore of the Bay of
Baiae.
[Page Head: THE AQUEDUCTS]
Rome, May 13th, 1830 {p.362}
_11th._--Walked about visiting to announce my return, and found
nobody at home. Hired a horse and rode with Lovaine till near
eight o'clock; rode by the Via Sacra two or three miles along the
Street of Tombs--very interesting and curious--and then cut
across to the ruin of an old villa, where an apartment floored
with marble has lately been discovered, evidently a bath, and a
very large one; on to Torlonia's _scavo_ and under the arches of
the Claudian aqueduct. Nothing at Rome delights and astonishes
me more than the aqueducts, the way they stretch over the
Campagna--[3]
As some earth-born giants spread
Their mighty arms along th' indented mead.
And when you approach them how admirable are their vastness and
solidity--each arch in itself a fabric, and the whole so
venerable and beautiful. After all my delight at Naples I
infinitely prefer Rome; there is a tranquil magnificence and
repose about Rome, and an indefinable pleasure in the atmosphere,
the colouring, and the ruins, which are better felt than
described. We lingered about the aqueducts till dark, but there
is hardly any twilight here; the sun sets, and in half an hour it
is night. Almost everybody is gone or going, but the heat can't
have driven them away, for it is perfectly cool.
[3] The Claudian aqueduct, which is the grandest, and whose
enormous remains form the great ornament of the
Campagna, was begun by Caligula, and finished by
Claudius. The structure of the arches is exactly like
those of the Coliseum. The first aqueduct was built by
Appius Caecus, the censor, the same who laid down the
Via Appia, 310 B.C.
As we set out on our ride we passed a little church called
'Domine, quo vadis?' which was built on this occasion:--St. Peter
was escaping from Rome (he was a great coward, that Princeps
Apostolorum), and at this spot he met Christ, and said to him,
'Domine, quo vadis?' 'Why,' replied our Saviour, 'I am going to
be crucified over again, for you are running away, and won't stay
to do my business here;' on which St. Peter returned to suffer in
his own person, and the church was built in commemoration of the
event. The Saint has no reason to be flattered at the character
which is given of him by the pious editors of his Epistles.
'Confidence and zeal form a conspicuous part of his character,
but he was sometimes deficient in firmness and resolution. He had
the faith to walk upon the water, but when the sea grew
boisterous his faith deserted him and he became afraid. He was
forward to acknowledge Jesus to be the Messiah, and declared
himself ready to die in that profession, and yet soon after he
thrice denied, and with oaths, that he knew anything of Jesus.
The warmth of his temper led him to cut off the ear of the High
Priest's servant, and by his timidity and dissimulation
respecting the Gentile converts at Antioch he incurred the
censure of the eager and resolute St. Paul.'
[Page Head: MODERN MIRACLES]
We returned through the Porta di San Giovanni, and by the Scala
Santa. There are three flights of steps; those in the middle are
covered with wood (that the marble may not be worn out), and
these are the holy steps; the other two are for the pious to walk
down. I had no idea anybody ever went up on their knees, though I
was aware they were not allowed to go up on their feet, and with
no small surprise saw several devout females in the performance
of this ceremony. They walk up the vestibule, drop upon their
knees, rise and walk over the landing-place, carefully tuck up
their gowns, drop again, and then up they toil in the most absurd
and ridiculous postures imaginable.
Weak in their limbs, but in devotion strong,
On their bare hands and feet they crawl along.
DRYDEN, _Juv._ 6.
I suppose there is some spiritual advantage derivable from the
action, but I don't know what. Why, however, I should be
surprised I can't tell, after all I have seen here. Madame de
Dalberg came to my recollection, and San Gennaro; she had owned
to me that she believed in the miracle, and we had a long dispute
about it, though I have since thought that I am wrong to regard
her credulity with such pity and contempt. The case admits of an
argument, though not that which she made use of. Many people are
right in what they do, but without knowing why; some wrong, with
very fair reasons. She, however, is wrong both ways, but she had
been brought up in principles of strong religious belief, and she
belongs to a church which teaches that miracles have never ceased
from the days of the Apostles till now. Those who believe that a
miracle ever was performed cannot doubt that another _may_ be
performed now; the only question is as to the fact. _We_ believe
that miracles ceased with the Apostles, and we pronounce all that
are alleged to have happened since to be fictitious. Believing as
she does that miracles have continually occurred, it is more
reasonable to believe in the reality of one she sees herself than
in those which are reported by others. She sees this done; it is,
then, a miracle or it is an imposture; but it is declared to be a
miracle by a whole body of men, who must know whether it be so or
not, and to whom she has been accustomed to look up with respect
and confidence, and who have always been deemed worthy of belief.
What is it, then, she believes? The evidence of her own senses,
and the testimony of a number of men, and a succession of them,
who are competent witnesses, and whose characters are for the
most part unblemished, in her opinion certainly. The objection
that it is improbable, and that no sufficient reason is assigned
for its performance, is quite inadmissible, as all considerations
of reason are in matters of revelation.
And when the event only is revealed, it is not for men to
dogmatise about the mode or means of its accomplishment,
for God's ways are not as our ways, nor His thoughts as
our thoughts, and His purposes may be wrought out in a
manner that we wot not.--KEITH.
There is nothing of which we are so continually reminded as that
we must not pretend to judge of the reasonableness and fitness of
the Divine dispensations, and there may therefore be good cause
for the San Gennaro affair, though we cannot fathom it. Still, as
the generality of people of education have given it up, one
wonders at the orthodox few whose belief lingers on. There are
other bloods that liquefy in various places besides San
Gennaro's.
_12th._--Walked to Santa Agnese, in the Piazza Navona, a pretty
church, but hardly anybody in it; to Santa Maria sopra Minerva,
empty likewise, but Michael Angelo's Christ was there--a grand
performance, though defective about the legs, which are too
thick; he has one golden foot for the devotees, who were wearing
out the marble toe, and would soon have had it as smooth as that
of Jupiter's in St. Peter's; _ci-devant_ Jupiter, now St. Peter.
I went again to the Pantheon, and walked round and round, and
looked, and admired; even the ragged wretches who came in seemed
struck with admiration. It is so fine to see the clouds rolling
above through the roof; it passes my comprehension how this
temple escaped the general wreck of Rome. Then to St. Peter's,
and went up to the roof and to the ball, through the aperture of
which I could just squeeze, though there is plenty of room when
once in it. The ball holds above thirty people, stuffed close of
course. Three other men were going up at the same time, who
filled the narrow ascent with garlicky effluvia. It is impossible
to have an idea of the size and grandeur of St. Peter's without
going over the roof, and examining all the details, and looking
down from the galleries. The ascent is very easy; there are
slabs at the bottom taken from the holy gates, as they were
successively opened and closed by the different Popes at the
Jubilees.[4] At the top were recorded the ascents of various
kings and princes and princesses, who had clambered up; there was
also an inscription in Latin and Italian, the very counterpart of
that which is still seen on the wall in Titus's Baths, only
instead of 'Jovem omnipotentem atque omnes Deos iratos habeat,'
&c. &c., it runs, 'Iratos habeat Deum omnipotentem et Apostolos
Petrum et Paulum,' though I don't see why Paul should care about
it. Went afterwards and walked on the Pincian.
[4] The Jubilee was established by Boniface VIII. in 1300,
and was originally a centenary commemoration, but
reduced to fifty years, and afterwards to twenty-five,
as it still continues. Hallam remarks that the Court of
Rome at the next Jubilee will read with a sigh the
description of that of 1300. 'The Pope received an
incalculable sum of money, for two priests stood day
and night at the altar of St. Peter, with rakes in
their hands, raking up the heaps of money.'--MURATORI.
This morning went with the Lovaines and Monsignore Spada to see
the library of the Vatican, which was to have been shown us by
Monsignore Maii, the librarian, but he was engaged elsewhere and
did not come. These galleries are most beautiful, vast, and
magnificent, and the painting of the old part interesting and
curious, but that which was done by Pius VI. and Pius VII. has
deformed the walls with such trash as I never beheld; they
present various scenes of the misfortunes of these two Popes, and
certain passages in their lives. The principal manuscripts we saw
were a history of Federigo di Felto, Duke of Urbino, and nephew
of Julius II., beautifully illuminated by Julio Clovio, a scholar
of Giulio Romano. I never saw anything more exquisite than these
paintings. Amongst the most curious of the literary treasures we
saw are a manuscript of some of St. Augustine's works, written
upon a palimpsest of Cicero's 'De Republicâ;' this treatise was
brought to light by Maii; the old Latin was as nearly erased as
possible, but by the application of gall it has been brought out
faintly, but enough to be made out, and completely read: Henry
VIII.'s love-letters to Anne Boleyn, in French and English:
Henry's reply to Luther, the presentation copy to the Pope
(Clement VII.), signed by him twice at the end, in English at the
end of the book, in Latin at the dedication, which is also
written by his own hand, only a line; the pictures representing
St. Peter's in different stages of the work are very curious. In
the print room there is a celestial globe painted by Julio
Romano.
[Page Head: A RACING VOW]
Just before I went to the Vatican I read in 'Galignani' the
agreeable intelligence that my mare Lady Emily had beat Clotilde
at Newmarket, which I attribute entirely to my _ex voto_ of a
silver horse-shoe, which I vowed, before I went to Naples, to the
Virgin of the Pantheon in case I won the match; and, as I am
resolved to be as good as my word, I have ordered the horse-shoe,
which is to be sent on Monday, and as soon as it arrives it shall
be suspended amongst all the arms, and legs, and broken gigs, and
heads, and silver hearts, and locks of hair.
Everybody here is in great alarm about the King (George IV.), who
I have no doubt is very ill. I am afraid he will die before I get
home, and I should like to be in at the death and see all the
proceedings of a new reign; but, now I am here, I must stay out
my time, let what will happen. I shall probably never see Rome
again, and 'according to the law of probability, so true in
general, so false in particular,' I have a good chance of seeing
at least one more King leave us.
May 15th, 1830 {p.368}
I rode with Lord Haddington to the Villa Mellini last evening on
a confounded high-going old hunter of Lord Lynedoch's, which he
gave to William Russell. On my return found Henry de Ros just
arrived, having been stopped at Aquapendente and Viterbo for want
of a _lascia passare._
This morning I have been dragging him about the town till he was
half dead. The three last days have been the hottest to which
Rome is subject--not much sun, no wind, but an air like an oven.
The only cool place is St. Peter's, that is delicious. It is the
coolest place in summer and the warmest in winter. We went to St.
Peter's, Coliseum, gallery of the Vatican, Villa Albani, and
Villa Borghese. The Villa Albani I had not seen before; it is a
good specimen of a Roman villa, full of fine things (the finest
of which is the Antinous), but very ill kept up. The Cardinal has
not set his foot in it for a year and a half; there is one walk
of ilexes perfectly shady, but all the rest is exposed to the
sun. The post brought very bad accounts of the King, who is
certainly dying. I have no notion that he will live till I get
home, but they tell me there will be no changes. Gagarin told me
last night that Lieven is to be governor to the Emperor of
Russia's eldest son, that for the present he will retain the
title of Ambassador, and that Matuscewitz will be Chargé
d'Affaires in London.
[Page Head: APPROACHING COUP D'ETAT IN FRANCE]
May 18th, 1830 {p.368}
Again dragging Henry de Ros about, who likes to see sights, but
is not strong enough to undergo fatigue. Yesterday I called on M.
de la Ferronays, and had a long conversation about French
politics; he is greatly alarmed at the state of affairs in
France, and told me that he had said everything he could to the
King to dissuade him from changing his Ministry and trying a
_coup d'état_, that the King has always been in his heart averse
to a Constitution, and has now got it into his head that there is
a settled design to subvert the royal authority, in which idea he
is confirmed by those about him, 'son petit entourage.' He
anticipates nothing but disaster to the King and disorder in the
country from these violent measures, and says that France was
increasing in prosperity, averse to change, satisfied with its
Government and Constitution, and only desirous of certain
ameliorations in the internal administration of the country, and
of preserving inviolate the institutions it had obtained. He
thinks the success of the expedition to Algiers, if it should
succeed, will have no effect in strengthening the hands of
Polignac; says they committed a capital fault in the beginning by
proroguing the Chambers upon their making that violent Address in
answer to the Speech, that they should immediately have proceeded
to propose the enactment of those laws of which the country
stands in need, when if the Chamber had agreed to them the
Ministry would have appeared to have a majority, and would
thereby gain moral strength; and if they had been rejected, the
King would have had a fine opportunity of appealing to the
nation, and saying that as long as they had attacked him
personally he had passed it by, but as they opposed all those
ameliorations which the state of France required, his people
might judge between him and them, and that this would at least
have given him a chance of success and brought many moderate
people to his side. He added that he had also said the same thing
to Polignac, but without success, that he is totally ignorant of
France and will listen to nobody. I told him that Henry de Ros
had been at Lyons when the Dauphin came, and how ill he was
received by the townspeople and the troops, at which he did not
seem at all surprised, though sorry.
Went to Santa Maria in Trastevere to-day, the Farnese Palace, the
Farnesina and Spada, Portico d'Ottavia and Mausoleo d'Augusto;
this last not worth seeing at all. The last time I was at the
Spada I did not see the pictures, some of which are very good,
particularly a Judith by Guido, and a Dido by Guercino, which is
damaged, but beautiful. Then to Santa Maria Maggiore and St. John
Lateran, and a ride over the Campagna to the Claudian aqueduct
and Torlonia's _scavo_.
May 20th, 1830 {p.370}
I breakfasted with Mills at his villa on the Palatine; Madame de
Menon, Henry Cheney, Fox, and the Portuguese Charge d'Affaires;
very agreeable: his villa charming; it formerly belonged to
Julius II., and one room is painted in fresco by Raphael and his
scholars, as they say.
The Portuguese is Donna Maria's officer. The relations of the
Holy See with Portugal are rather anomalous, but sensible.
The Pope says he has nothing to do with politics, does not
acknowledge Don Miguel, but as he is _de facto_ ruler of
Portugal, he must for the good of the Church (whose interests are
not to be abandoned for any temporal considerations) transact
business with him, and so he does. This Envoy is very sanguine as
to the ultimate success of the Queen's cause.
Went to the Orti Farnesiani and to Livia's Baths, where there is
still some painting and gilding to be seen. Then to the Capitol;
saw the pictures and statues (again), and called on Bunsen, who
told me a colossal head of Commodus could not be Commodus (which
stands in the court of the Capitol); he won't allow anything is
anything. He is full of politics, and thinks the French will get
rid of their domestic difficulties by colonising Africa, and does
not see why they should not as well as the Romans; but he seems a
better antiquary than politician.
Some pictures in the Capitol are very fine--Domenichino's Sybil
and Santa Barbara, Guercino's Santa Petronella (copied in mosaic
in St. Peter's) and Cleopatra and Antony. There are several
unfinished Guidos, some only just begun. They say he played, and
when he lost and could not pay, painted a picture; so these are
the produce of bad nights, and their progress perhaps arrested by
better.
To the Borghese Villa. At present I think Chiswick better than
any villa here, but they tell me when I get home and see Chiswick
and remember these I shall think differently.
[Page Head: MALARIA]
May 22nd, 1830
Found it absolutely necessary to adopt Roman customs and dine
early and go out after dinner; one must dine at four or at nine.
Went to Raphael's house, which is painted by his scholars, and
one room by himself; a very pretty villa, uninhabited, and
belongs to an old man and an old woman, who will neither live in
it nor let it. Though close to the Villa Borghese, which is
occupied by the malaria, this villa is quite free from it. The
malaria is inexplicable. If it was 'palpable to sight as to
feeling,' it would be like a fog which reaches so far and no
farther. Here are ague and salubrity, cheek by jowl. To the
Pamfili Doria, a bad house with a magnificent view all round
Rome; fine garden in the regular clipped style, but very shady,
and the stone pines the finest here; this garden is well kept.
Malaria again; Rome is blockaded by malaria, and some day will
surrender to it altogether; as it is, it is melancholy to see all
these deserted villas and palaces, scarcely one of which is
inhabited or decently kept. I don't know one palace or villa
which is lived in as we should live in England; the Borghese
Villa is the only one which is really well kept, but Prince
Borghese has £70,000 a year; he lives at Florence and never comes
here, but keeps collecting and filling his villa. The other
morning the ground here was in many parts covered by a thin red
powder, which was known to come from an eruption, and everybody
thought it was Vesuvius, and so travellers reported, but it turns
out to be from Etna or Stromboli. Naples was covered with it, and
the sun obscured, but it is much nearer. Rome must be 300 or 400
miles from Etna.
May 23rd, 1830 {p.371}
Went to three churches--Nuova, San Giovanni del Fiorentini, San
Agostino; in this latter is Raphael's fresco of the prophet
Isaiah, in the style of M. Angelo, but it did not particularly
strike me. There is a remarkable Madonna here, a great favourite;
her shrine is quite illuminated with lamps and candles, and
adorned with offerings which cover the columns on each side of
the church. Numerous devotees were kissing her gilt foot, and the
Virgin and Child were decked with earrings, bracelets, and jewels
and gold in every shape; the Child, which is of a tawny marble,
looked like some favourite little 'nigger,' so bedizened was he
with finery. She is a much more popular Madonna than my friend of
the Pantheon, to whom I went, as in honour bound, and hung up my
horse-shoe by a purple riband (my racing colour) round one of the
candlesticks on the altar, with this inscription--C.C.G.,
P.G.R.N. A.27, 1830.[5]
[5] [These letters appear to stand for the following votive
inscription: 'Charles Cavendish Greville. _Pro gratias
receptas nuper._ April 27, 1830.']
Took H. de Ros to see the Cenci and the skeleton friars, not
exactly birds of a feather; was obliged to squabble with the monk
to get a sight of my old friends the skeletons, who at last let
us in, but would not take any money, which I thought monks never
refused, but my _laquais de place_ said, 'Lo conosco bene, c'è
molto superbo.' Rode along the Via Appia and to Maxentius's
Circus.
[Page Head: ACCESSION OF THE EMPEROR NICHOLAS]
May 24th, 1830 {p.372}
Called on Sir William Gell at his eggshell of a house and pretty
garden, which he planted himself ten years ago, and calls it the
Boschetto Gellio. He was very agreeable, with stories of Pompeii,
old walls, and ruined cities, besides having a great deal to say
on living objects and passing events.
Dined with M. de la Ferronays--a great party--and was desired to
hand out Madame la Comtesse de Maistre, wife to the Comte Xavier
de Maistre, author of the 'Voyage autour de ma Chambre' and
'Le Lépreux,' to which works I gave a prodigious number of
compliments. The Dalbergs and Aldobrandinis dined there, and some
French whom I did not know. The Duc de Dalberg and his wife are a
perpetual source of amusement to me, she with her devotion and
believing everything, he with his air _moqueur_ and believing
nothing; she so merry, he so shrewd, and so they squabble
about religion. 'Qui est cet homme?' I said to him when a
ludicrous-looking abbé, broader than he was long, came into the
room. 'Que sais-je? quelque magot.' 'Ah, je m'en vais dire cela à
la Duchesse.' 'Ah, mon cher, n'allez pas me brouiller avec ma
famille.'
He had been talking to me about La Ferronays the day before, and
said he was a sensible, right-headed man, 'mais diablement
russe;' and last night La Ferronays gave us an account of the
revolt of the Guards on the Emperor Nicholas's accession, of
which he had been a witness--of the Emperor's firmness and
his subsequent conversations with him, all which was very
interesting, and he recounted it with great energy. He said
that the day after the affair of the Guards all the _Corps
Diplomatique_ had gone to him, that he had addressed them in an
admirable discourse and with a firm and placid countenance. He
told them that they had witnessed what had passed, and he had no
doubt would give a faithful relation of it to their several
Courts; that on dismissing them, he had taken him (La Ferronays)
into his closet, when he burst into tears and said, 'You have
just seen me act the part of Emperor; you must now witness the
feelings of the man. I speak to you as to my best friend, from
whom I conceal nothing.' He went on to say that he was the most
miserable of men, forced upon a throne which he had no desire to
mount, having been no party to the abdication of his brother, and
placed in the beginning of his reign in a position the most
painful, irksome, and difficult; but that though he had never
sought this elevation, now that he had taken it on himself he
would maintain and defend it. When La Ferronays had done,
'L'entendez-vous?' said Dalberg. 'Comme il parle avec goût; cela
lui est personnel. L'Empereur ne lui a pas dit la moitié de tout
cela.'
La Ferronays introduced me to Cardinal Albani, telling him I had
brought him a letter from Madame Craufurd, which I did, and left
it when I was here before. He thought I was just come, and asked
for the letter, which I told his Eminence he had already
received. He had, however, forgotten all about me, my letter, and
old Craaf. We had a long conversation about the Catholic
question, the Duke's duel with Lord Winchelsea (which he had
evidently never heard of), the King's illness, &c. He is like a
very ancient red-legged macaw, but I suppose he is a dandy among
the cardinals, for he wears two stars and two watches. I asked
him to procure me an audience of the Pope, which he promised to
do. Escaped at last from the furnace his room was, and went to
air in the streets; came home early and went to bed. This morning
got up at half-past six, and went to look out for some _columbaria_
I had heard of out of the Porta Pia, and near Santa Agnese. The
drones at Santa Agnese knew nothing about them, but I met La
Ferronays riding as I was returning in despair, and he showed me
the way to them. They have been discovered about six years, and
are in a garden. The excavation may be fifteen feet by about
eight or nine, more or less, and is full of broken urns and
inscriptions, some of which are very good indeed. One is upon C.
Cargilius Pedagogus:--
Vixi quandiu potui, sine lite, sine rixâ,
Sine contentione, sine aere alieno, amicis fidem
Bonam praestiti, peculio pauper, animo divitissimus,
Benè valeat is qui hoc titulum perlegit meum.
Another--
Lucius Virius Sancius aet. xxiii.
Quod tu mî debebas facere, ego tibi facio, mater pia.
The same idea as in Canning's verses on his son:--
Whilst I, reversed our nature's kindlier doom,
Pour forth a father's sorrows o'er his tomb.
And Evander on Pellas:--
Contra ego vivendo vici mea fata superstes
Restarem ut genitor.
As I came back I looked into San Bernardo, Santa Maria della
Vittoria, and Santa Susanna, and I stopped to look at the 'Moses
striking the Rock,' which is certainly very fine, though there is
too much of Moses and not enough of rock or water. After
breakfast to the Vatican library, where the Duc de Dalberg had
engaged the Abbé Maii to meet him, and he showed us all the
manuscripts, most of which I had already seen. He is very
laborious as well as learned. Maii is said to undertake too much,
and to leave a great deal half examined, and therefore unknown;
but somebody (I forget who) is at daggers drawn with him, so it
may be the accusation of a literary enemy. Went about with the
Dalbergs to several places, to all of which I had been before. At
every church the Duchess and her daughter dropped on their knees
and sprinkled themselves with holy water, and prayed and
curtsied, but nothing could get him down upon his marrow bones.
May 25th, 1830 {p.375}
Breakfasted with Gell in his Boschetto Gellio under a treillage
of vines, and surrounded by fruits and flowers. He was very
agreeable, and told us a great many anecdotes of the Queen and
her trial. We are just setting off for Tivoli.
[Page Head: TIVOLI]
May 27th, 1830 {p.375}
Went to Tivoli. The journey hotter than flames over the Campagna.
It is the most beastly town I ever saw, more like the Ghetto here
than any other place, full of beggars and children. The inn very
moderate, but Henry and I got a very good appartment, looking
over the country, in a private house. We all dined together.
---- is the merriest of saints, the jolliest of devotees, and
very unlike the ghost in 'Don Juan,' who says, 'Che si pasce di
cibo celeste non si pasce di cibo mortale,' for though rigorously
obedient to the prescribed fasts of the Church, she devours flesh
enough on other days to suffice for those on which it is
forbidden; and on the meagre days she indemnifies herself by any
quantity of fish, vegetables, and _sucreries_ of all kinds. It is
only like eating her first course on Thursday and her second on
Friday.
After dinner we sent for the most famous guide, with the
magnificent name of Pietro Stupendo, called 'Stupendous' from his
frequent use of that adjective in pointing out the views. His
real name is Barbarossa, which is nearly as fine. We went to see
the sun set from the Villa d'Este a very fine villa, with clipped
trees, waterworks, and all the usual beauties of Italian villas.
It belongs to the Duke of Modena, is uninhabited, and falling to
decay for want of care and attention. Thence to the Temple of the
Sybil or Vesta [6] (for it goes by both names), which is very
airy and graceful, and perched on the point of a rock, but its
effect spoiled by being embedded in dirty, ugly houses. The fall
below was made by Bernini, and is very pretty, but not grand, and
it looks rather artificial. We saw it from what is called the
Grotto of Neptune. At night I returned again, but nobody else
would stir out. I went down to the fall, and had bundles of hay
lit on the rock above, and some blue lights called _lumi di
Bengala_, a sort of firework, put in the temple, and the effect
was beautiful. The reflected light upon the cascade, and the
light and shade upon the rocks, and the temple made visible
through the darkness by the soft blue flame, without any of the
background of buildings appearing, were very fine, and in the
obscurity it seemed much more extensive and natural. I saw this
first from the Grotto of Neptune, and then from the opposite
height.
[6] I believe it to be the Sybil's Temple. There is a
frightful square building close to it they call the
Sybil's Temple, but I do not see by what authority.
Nibby says it is Vesta, but everybody else says the
Sybil.-- FORSYTH, CRAMER, &c.
[Page Head: TIVOLI]
Yesterday morning we were to have started on the _giro_ of Tivoli
at six, but as women are never ready, and a good deal of eating
and drinking was to be gone through before we got under weigh, we
were not off till near eight. The consequence was that we got
into the heat, and lost the colouring of the early morning, and
those lights and shades on which great part of the beauty of this
scenery depends. I was altogether disappointed; the hills are
either quite bare or covered with olives, the most tiresome of
trees; the falls are all artificial, and though the view at the
foot of the largest (or as near as you can approach it) is
beautiful, on the whole no part of the scenery answered my
expectations. The water falls in eleven separate cascades (above
and below), and sinking into the gulf appears to boil up again in
clouds of spray, but the artificial channel above is distinctly
visible. There is an ancient bridge over the Anio and part of a
road up to Tivoli in wonderful preservation. Our party pleased
their imaginations by thinking that Augustus and Mecaenas had
probably gone cheek by jowl over the road and bridge, but
Stupendous told me it was built by Valerian, A.D. 253, though he
had no notion who Valerian was, except that he was an Emperor.
There are some curious remains of Mecaenas's Villa, particularly
the places (if they are really so) where the slaves were kept,
which are just like cellars. I cannot remember seeing any
apartments destined for slaves at Pompeii, but from all one sees
or hears and reads of the Roman slaves, they must have been
treated in a manner that it is inconceivable they should have
endured, considering their numbers, and of what they were
generally composed--barbarian prisoners or free citizens reduced
to servitude. We ended the _giro_ at the Villa d'Este, and
breakfasted on the terrace; the rest of the party then retired to
sleep and play at cards at the inn, and I started with Stupendous
to see the remains of an ancient city, and some specimens of
Cyclopean walls, about four or five miles off. The first place is
called Ventidius Bassa's, because that gentleman had a villa
there, built on the ruins of a little Cyclopean town, where there
are still some walls standing. From thence to Mitriano, which
must have been a large town, the vestiges still covering several
hills, and the remains of walls being very large; there is
nothing left but a few broken fluted columns, and one flat marble
stone perfect, with an inscription. This jaunt was hardly worth
the trouble.
When I came back from Mitriano, I went down to the Grotto of the
Syrens, from whence the view of the cascade is much finer than
from the other grotto, and really grand; but the path is very
slippery from the clouds of spray constantly falling over it. I
did not go quite to the grotto, for Stupendous told me he had
nearly slipped down the rock and cracked his crown; so I declined
running that risk, but saw just as well, for I went nearly to the
bottom.
At half-past four we went to Adrian's Villa, with which I was as
much delighted as I was disappointed with Tivoli. Nothing can be
more picturesque than the ruins, and nothing gives such an idea
of the grandeur of the ancient masters of the world. They are six
miles in circumference, and the remains are considerable, though
not very distinct, but it is very easy to perceive that they are
the ruins of a villa, or a collection of ornamental and luxurious
buildings, and not of a town, which from their size they might
be. Almost all the ruins of antiquity that adorn Rome were found
here, or in Caracalla's Baths, which latter were supplied from
this stock--all the Albani collection, most of the Museo
Borbonico at Naples, and half the Vatican. The Albani collection
was made by a nephew of Clement XI., the Albani Pope. They say
only one-fourth has been excavated. The ruins are overgrown with
ivy and all sorts of creepers. The grounds are full of pines and
cypresses of great size, and it is altogether one of the most
interesting and beautiful spots I have seen in Italy. The Villa
Adriani now belongs to Duke Braschi, nephew of Pius VI. He has
not excavated, but the truth is that there is little temptation
to individuals to do so. The Government have taken all the ruins
under their protection, and no proprietor is allowed to destroy
any part of them. So far so good, but if he digs and finds
anything, he may not sell it; the Government reserves to itself a
right of pre-emption, and should he be offered a large sum by any
foreigner for any object he may find, he is not allowed to take
it, although the Government may not choose to buy it at the same
price. They will fix a fair, but not a fancy price, but the
vendor is often obliged, when they do buy it, to wait many years
for his money. Albani employed 1,000 men to excavate.
We came back in a deliciously cool evening. The Duchess wanted us
to keep with her carriage (she had a pair and we had four
horses), for fear she should be robbed--for she had heard that
somebody had been robbed somewhere a little while ago--which we
promised; but our postilions set off in a gallop, we fell asleep,
and they were left to their fate.
[Page Head: MISS KELLY'S ADVENTURE]
_At night._--This morning as I was sitting at Torlonia's reading
the newspapers, a woman came in, whom Luigi Chiaveri soon after
begged to introduce to me. She was a Mrs. Kelly, of whose history
I had already heard, and I told Chiaveri I would assist her if I
could. She told me her case in detail. The short of it is this:--
She and her daughter (who is very pretty) got acquainted at
Florence with a family of Swifts. Young Swift seeing the girl was
good-looking, and hearing she was rich, made up to her, gained
her affections (as they call it), and proposed to marry her. She
agreed, provided her mother did. They came to Rome. Swift
followed, established himself at the same inn, and wrote to the
mother to propose himself. The mother declined. He wrote a second
letter--same reply. He then prevailed on the girl to promise not
to give him up, but failed in persuading her to elope with him.
She said she would marry him when she was of age. He pressed her
to give him a written promise to this effect before witnesses.
After some hesitation she agreed, and one evening (having been
previously appointed by him) she met him in another room, where
she found a priest and two men. She signed two papers without
reading them, heard a short form muttered over, which she did not
understand, and then was told to run downstairs again. A few days
after she got uneasy as to what had happened, and confessed it
all to her mother, who immediately conceived that this was a
marriage ceremony into which she had been inveigled. She told her
lover what she had done, who asked her what her mother had said.
She told him that her mother fancied that it was a marriage, but
that she had told her it was not, when he informed her it was,
and this was the first intimation he gave her of the sort, and
the first time he had given her to understand that he regarded
her as his wife. She reproached him with his duplicity and the
imposition he had practised on her, and told him she would have
no more to say to him. This took place in St. Peter's one Friday
at vespers. Soon after they went to Naples, where Swift followed,
and wrote to her mother saying he had married her daughter, and
asking her forgiveness; that she might fancy the marriage was not
valid, but she would find it was, having been celebrated by an
abbé, witnessed by the nephew of a cardinal, and the certificate
signed by a cardinal, with the knowledge of the Pope. She sent no
answer, when he begged an interview, which she granted, and then
he told her that he was a Catholic, and that her daughter had
become so too, and had signed an act of abjuration of the
Protestant religion. The mother and daughter, however, declined
having anything to do with him, and the latter declared that she
had never changed her religion at all. He then claimed her as his
wife, and tried to prevail on Hill and Lushington (Sir Henry
Lushington, Consul--the present Lord Berwick, Minister) to
prevent their leaving Naples. They declined to interfere, and
advised the mother to go home, and let the matter be settled
between them in England. She took the hint and set off. He
followed, and overtook them at Rome, and there, by representations
to the civil and religious authorities that they were taking away
his wife to prevent her being a Catholic, and make her relapse to
the Protestant faith, he got them to interfere, and their
passports were refused. Such is their story. They have nobody to
advise, assist, or protect them.
[Page Head: MISS KELLY'S ADVENTURE]
I went to La Ferronays, who was all good-nature, and said he
would go with me to Cardinal Albani; but I went first to the
hotel and saw the girl alone, who corroborated all her mother had
said. I wrote down her evidence, and made her sign it, and then
went with the Ambassador to the Cardinal in the Quirinal Palace.
The door of his cabinet was locked, but after a sort of _abbé
suisse_ had knocked a little he came and opened it, and in we
went. He did not recollect my name the last time I saw him, nor
my person this. La Ferronays explained the business, with which
he was already acquainted, partly through Kestner (the Hanoverian
Minister) and partly through the Roman authorities, who had given
him the case of the adventurer, for such he seems to be. The
Cardinal seemed disposed to do nothing (Bunsen assures me he is a
very sensible man, and right-headed and well disposed), and said
she was married. We said, not at all. Then he hummed and hawed,
and stammered and slobbered, and talked of the 'case being in the
hands of the Saint Office [the Inquisition!!] under the eyes of
his Holiness. What could he do?' We fired off a tirade against
the infamy of the action, said that the English tribunals ought
to decide upon the validity of the marriage, that all they wanted
was to go home, that the man might follow and make his claim good
if he could, and that the story (if they were detained here)
would make a noise in England, and would be echoed back to France
by the press of both countries, and that it was very desirable to
avoid such a scandal. He seemed struck with this, and said it
would be best to send them off to settle their disputes at home,
but that they must have patience, that time was necessary and the
case must be examined. We were obliged to be contented with this,
and saying we were sure the case was in good hands (which I
doubt, for he would leave it there if he dared), with many
scrapes and compliments we took our leave. The girl has never
dared to show her face, for fear of being carried off by the
lover or shut up in a convent by the Grand Inquisitor, so I
tranquillised their minds and sent them out an airing. In the
evening I spoke to Monsignore Spada, who has promised to help to
get up a case in Italian, if it should be wanted.
Dined with M. de la Ferronays, and went to his villa (Mattei)
afterwards. He has been perfect in this affair, full of
prompt kindness; but what a Government! how imbecile, how
superannuated!--a Minister of ninety almost, a sovereign of whom
all that can be said is that he is a great canonist, and all that
little bubbling and boiling of priestery and monkery, which is at
once odious, mischievous, and contemptible, a sort of extinct
volcano, all the stink of the sulphur without any of the
splendour of the eruption. They want the French again sadly.
English subjects detained by the Inquisition in 1830!! La
Ferronays advised me to ask the Pope for a moment of audience,
and to request him to see the girl himself, and interrogate her,
and learn the truth, of the case.
I had just done writing the above when a note came from La
Ferronays with the passports for the Kellys, which Albani had
sent him, so I had only to thank the Cardinal instead of
mentioning it to the Pope. I did not think he would have been so
quick. How enchanted they will be to-morrow morning!
[Page Head: MISS KELLY'S ADVENTURE]
May 29th, 1830 {p.382}
At ten Kestner called for Lovaine and me, and we went to the
Pope.[7] His Court is by no means despicable. A splendid suite of
apartments at the Quirinal with a very decent attendance of Swiss
Guards, Guardie Nobili, Chamberlains--generally ecclesiastics--
dressed in purple, valets in red from top to toe, of Spanish cut,
and in the midst of all a barefooted Capuchin. After waiting a
few minutes, we were introduced to the presence of the Pope by
the Chamberlain, who knelt as he showed us in. The Pope was alone
at the end of a very long and handsome apartment, sitting under a
canopy of state in an arm-chair, with a table before him covered
with books and papers, a crucifix, and a snuff-box. He received
us most graciously, half rising and extending his hand, which we
all kissed. His dress was white silk, and very dirty, a white
silk skullcap, red silk shoes with an embroidered cross, which
the faithful kiss. He is a very nice, squinting old twaddle, and
we liked him. He asked us if we spoke Italian, and when we
modestly answered, a little, he began in the most desperately
unintelligible French I ever heard; so that, though no doubt he
said many excellent things, it was nearly impossible to
comprehend any of them; but he talked with interest of our King's
health, of the antiquities, and Vescovali, of Lucien Buonaparte
and his extortion (for his curiosities), said when he was
Cardinal he used to go often to Vescovali. He is, in fact, a
connoisseur. Talked of quieting religious dissensions in England
and the Catholic question; and when I said, 'Très-Saint Père, le
Roi mon maître n'a pas de meilleurs sujets que ses sujets
catholiques,' his eyes whirled round in their sockets like
teetotums, and he grinned from ear to ear. After about a quarter
of an hour he bade us farewell: we kissed his hand and backed out
again. We then went to the Cardinal, whom I thanked warmly for
his prompt attention to my request in having given the passports
to _my protégées_. It is the etiquette in the Court of the
Quirinal for the servants to descend from behind the carriage,
and the horses to go a foot pace.
[7] [The Pope was Pius VIII. (Francisco Xavierio
Castiglioni), whose reign was a very short one, for he
succeeded Leo XII. in March 1829, and was succeeded by
Gregory XVI. in December, 1830.]
After this audience I took the passport to the Kellys. The mother
was in bed, but the girl came to me in a transport of gratitude
and joy. They went off in the evening to Florence. La Ferronays
advised me to send them off directly, for fear the priests should
begin to stir in the matter and raise fresh obstacles.
In the afternoon went to Gibson's, the sculptor. He is very
simple and intelligent, and appears to be devoted to his art.
There is a magnificent Venus, composed from various models, like
Zeuxis's statue of Juno at Crotona.
Quando Zeusi l'immagine far volse
Che par dovea nel tempio di Giunone,
E tante belle nude insieme accolse,
E per una farne in perfezione,
Da chi, una parte, e da chi, un' altra tolse.
May 31st, 1830 {p.383}
Yesterday the advocate to whom I had advised Mrs. Kelly to go
came to me, and said he could not understand what she said, and
she had desired him to call on me. I told him the story, and he
said he would look into it and see what was to be done. I had
advised her before she went to consult an Italian lawyer as to
the necessary steps to be taken here in order to prove the
invalidity of the marriage in England. This man, whose name is
Dottore Belli, was recommended to me by Monsignore Spada as a
clever lawyer, and particularly good for the case, because
brother of one of the judges (or other officer) in the Vicar-General's
court. But I suppose he has less influence over the brother than
the brother over him, for this morning he sent me a very civil
but formal letter, saying 'the parties were married, and had
abjured after instruction received'--evidently a letter dictated
by the court or by his brother, or at all events by some
ecclesiastical interest. They evidently want to make the marriage
good to save their own credit, but there is a great mystery in
the whole affair. Cardinal Weld told La Ferronays that they had
not yet found the priest who had performed the ceremony. Bunsen
at my request undertook to enquire into the affair, but up to the
present moment (June 13th) he has only made the case more
confused and inexplicable.[8]
[8] The conclusion of this affair is not less curious than
its commencement. The parties returned to this country.
Swift sued Miss Kelly in the Ecclesiastical Court for
the restitution of conjugal rights. After much delay
the case was elaborately argued before Sir John
Nicholl, who at very great length pronounced judgment
against the validity of the marriage. Swift appealed to
the Judicial Committee of the Privy Council, when the
sentence of the Court below was reversed, and the
ceremony at Rome decided to be a good and binding
marriage. The parties were thus irrevocably made man
and wife, and after some time had elapsed their mutual
friends and relations set on foot a negotiation for a
reconciliation, and eventually Miss Kelly agreed to
live with Mr. Swift, on condition that the marriage
ceremony should be regularly performed, which was
accordingly done: certain settlements were made, and
they are now (for all I know to the contrary) living
happily and harmoniously together. [The further
proceedings in this cause are described in the second
volume of this Journal, when they came before the Privy
Council.]
[Page Head: SAINT-MAKING]
To-day there was a grand ceremony of the transportation of the
standard of a new saint (that is, one made about fifty years ago)
from St. Peter's to San Lorenzo in Lucina, his own church. This
saint is San Francisco Carraccioli, a Neapolitan. All the
peasantry came in, covered with religious gewgaws, and the
streets were crowded. There was a balcony at the Cardinal's as
for the Girandola, but the Duc de Dalberg and I went to the
Piazza di San Pietro, and saw it there; it was curious. First
came the guards; then the footmen of the cardinals in State
liveries, four for each, carrying torches; the clergy of various
orders with chandeliers, crucifixes, immense crosses, standards,
and all with torches; a long file of Jesuits, whose appearance
was remarkable, so humble and absorbed did they look; bands of
music and soldiers, the whole reaching from the door of
St. Peter's to the other side of the Castle of St. Angelo. This
procession made the _giro_ of the city, for we fell in with it
again in the Piazza della Colonna two hours afterwards. The
Church of San Lorenzo and the adjoining houses were illuminated,
and there was a picture, inscription, &c., stuck up over the
door. The Cardinal Galetti, who is the patron of this order,
asked the General of the Jesuits to send some of his flock to
swell the procession, which he was desirous of making as
brilliant as possible. The General excused himself on the ground
that the Jesuits were not in the habit of attending processions.
The Cardinal complained to the Pope of the General's refusal. The
next time the Pope saw him (he goes once a week to the Quirinal
to make his report), after discussing all their matters of
business and giving him the benediction, just as he was leaving
the room, the Pope called after him, 'O reverend Father, I hope
you will not send less than a hundred of your Jesuits to the
procession to-morrow.' The General was thunderstruck, but obliged
to obey. This ecclesiastical anecdote makes a noise here. The
present General is a Belgian, and a man of great ability. The
Jesuits have a college here, and a seminary; a hundred in the
one, and three hundred in the other.
The process of saint-making is extremely curious. There are three
grades of saintship: the first, for which I forget the name,
requires irreproachable moral conduct; the second (beatification),
two well-proved miracles; the third (sanctification), three. It
costs an immense sum of money to effect the whole, in some cases
as much as 100,000 piastres. The process begins by an application
to the Pope, on the part of the relatives of the candidate, or on
that of the confraternity, if they belong to a religious order.
The Pope refers the question to a tribunal, and the claimants are
obliged to appear with their proofs, which are severely
scrutinised, and the miracles are only admitted upon the
production of the most satisfactory evidence. Individuals
continually subscribe for this purpose, particularly for members
of religious orders, in order to increase the honour or glory of
the society. These trials last many years, sometimes for
centuries. There is a Princess of Sardinia, sister of the late
King, who died lately, and they want to make a saint of her. The
money (estimated at 100,000 piastres) is ready, but they cannot
rout out a miracle by any means, so that they are at a dead
stand-still before the second step. Nobody can be sanctified till
two hundred years after their death, but they may arrive at the
previous grades before that, and the proofs may be adduced and
registered.
June 1st, 1830 {p.386}
Yesterday news came of the change in the French Ministry,[9] of
which La Ferronays knew nothing the night before, and from which
Dalberg anticipates an increase of desperate measures on the part
of the Court. Went in the morning to Gibson's; in the evening to
the Orti Sallustiani, one of the many objects here not worth
seeing, though they show two great holes in a wall, which they
call the Campo Scelerato, and they say it is the place where the
frail vestals were buried. Coming back we met the Pope taking a
drive--two coaches-and-four, with guards and outriders. We got
out of the carriage and took off our hats, and our _laquais de
place_ dropped on his knees. The Pope was in white, two people
sitting opposite to him, and as he passed he scattered a
blessing. All persons kneel when he appears--that is, all
Catholics. The equipage was not brilliant. To the Corsini Villa,
the gardens of which are some of the shadiest and most agreeable
in Rome, but nobody inhabits the palace. The Corsinis live at
Florence, and when they come here they lodge elsewhere, for the
malaria, they say, occupies their domain. Thus it is that between
poverty and malaria Rome is deserted by its great men. But the
population ought to be increasing, for almost every woman one
meets is with child. Gell denies the malaria, says he should not
mind living where they say it is dangerous to live; but can this
be matter of opinion?
[9] [Charles X. had signed the decree for the dissolution
of the existing Chamber of Deputies on the 16th of May:
on the 19th of May another ordinance appointed M. de
Chantelauze to the Ministry of Justice, M. de Peyronnet
to the Interior, M. de Montbel to the Finances, and M.
Capelle to the Department of Public Works. These
appointments, more especially that of M. de Peyronnet,
were deemed in the highest degree hostile to the
Liberal party.]
[Page Head: SAN LORENZO IN LUCINA]
In the evening looked into the Church and Piazza of San Lorenzo
in Lucina. The church is hung with drapery, adorned with statues,
and illuminated by innumerable wax candles. The piazza is
illuminated too, and drapery hung out from the windows. There
were crowds of people, lines of chairs, and boys bawling to the
people to come and sit upon them; others selling lemonade, others
the life and exploits of the saint on penny papers; a band of
military music on a scaffolding, and guards patrolling about.
Between the intervals of the band the bells, in discordant
chorus, regaled 'the ears of the groundlings.' This strange,
discordant scene, the foundation of which is religious, but which
has but little of the appearance of religion in it, lasts eight
successive days, and costs a vast sum of money--they say 9,000
scudi--the greatest part of which is furnished by the Government.
It probably answers some end, for it is difficult to conceive
that any Government, even this, should spend money, of which they
have so little to spare, on these fooleries while poverty
overspreads the land. This ceremony has not taken place before
for a hundred years. The sight is certainly very gay. Close by,
in the Palazzo Mani, is a theatre of marionettes, who play a
comedy of Goldoni. The Duke Fiani lets part of his palace for
this purpose. What an exhibition of wretchedness! He reserves a
box which his servants let to anybody, whether on his account or
their own I don't know.
_Evening._--Went before dinner to the Villa Madama, a ruined
villa belonging to the royal house of Naples, with fine paintings
still on the walls and ceilings, the vestiges of former luxury,
and a capital view of Rome, the Tiber, the Milvian Bridge, and
the mountains. After dinner to the San Gregorio to see the
frescoes, the 'Martyrdom of St. Andrew,' the rival frescoes of
Guido and Domenichino, and afterwards drove about till dark, when
we went to a most extraordinary performance--that of the
Flagellants. I had heard of it, and had long been curious to
assist at it. The church was dimly lit by a few candles on the
altar, the congregation not numerous. There was a service, the
people making the responses, after which a priest, or one of the
attendants of the church, went round with a bundle of whips of
knotted cord, and gave one to each person who chose to take it. I
took mine, but my companion laughed so at seeing me gravely
accept the whip, that he was obliged to hide his face in his
hands, and was passed over. In a few minutes the candles were
extinguished, and we were left in total darkness. Then an
invisible preacher began exhorting his hearers to whip themselves
severely, and as he went on his vehemence and passion increased.
Presently a loud smacking was heard all round the church, which
continued a few minutes; then the preacher urged us to fresh
exertions, and crack went the whips again louder and faster than
before as he exhorted. The faithful flogged till a bell rang; the
whips stopped, in a few minutes the candles were lit again, and
the priest came round and collected his cords. I had squeezed
mine in my hands, so that he did not see it, and I brought it
away with me. As soon as the candles were extinguished the doors
were locked, so that nobody could go out or come in till the
discipline was over. I was rather nervous when we were locked up
in total darkness, but nobody whipped me, and I certainly did not
whip myself. A more extraordinary thing (for sight it can't be
called) I never witnessed. I don't think the people stripped,
nor, if they did, that the cords could have hurt them much. From
thence to St. Peter's, where we found the _quarant' ore_ and the
high altar illuminated with heaps of candles. Only a few lights
scattered at a great distance through the rest of the church,
very few people there; but the dim light, the deep shades, the
vast space, and the profound stillness were sublime. Certainly
nothing in the world can approach St. Peter's, and it always
presents something new to admire.
From St. Peter's to the Vatican, to see the statues by
torchlight. The effect is wonderful, and totally unlike that
which is produced by day. The finest statues unquestionably gain
the most, and it is easy, after seeing this, to understand why
most of the best are found in the baths; a better notion, too,
may be formed of their magnificence. It would seem as if some
statues had been formed expressly to be thus exhibited. There is
a mutilated statue they call a Niobe (God knows why), with
drapery blown back by the wind and appearing quite transparent.
This effect cannot be produced by daylight.
[Page Head: BUNSEN'S ACCOUNT OF ROME]
June 2nd, 1830
Called on Bunsen, who has not yet got an answer from the agent he
sent to the office of the Grand Vicar. I had a long conversation
with him about the expediency of appointing an English Minister
or agent of some sort at Rome, which he thinks very desirable and
very feasible, upon the same plan on which the diplomatic
relations of Prussia with Rome are conducted, and which he says
go on very smoothly, and without embarrassment or inconvenience.
There is good faith on both sides. The Catholic bishops do not
attempt to deceive the Government, and he thinks that the Court
of Rome does not attempt to hold any clandestine intercourse with
the Prussian States. He says Albani is a sensible man; that the
cardinals are bigoted and prejudiced, hostile to England, and
most of them forgetful of all the See of Rome owes to our
country; but they are still aware that, in the hour of danger, it
is to England and the Protestant countries they must look for
protection, as they found it when Austria wanted to strip them of
the March of Ancona. He thinks there is much superstition among
the lower classes, little religion among any, great immorality in
all; the same desire of intriguing and extending its influence
which the Romish Church has always had, but with very diminished
means and resources. The Inquisition is still active in
repressing heresy among Roman subjects, but not venturing to
meddle with the opinions of foreigners. Its principles and its
forms are the same as in former times. He says we have an
inefficient Consul at Ancona, who was put in by Canning on
account of his Liverpool connections. It would be very desirable
to establish a regular Protestant church in Rome, with an able
and permanent minister; but there is only an occasional church,
with anybody who will serve in it, and who is paid by the
congregation; but such a man is totally unable to cope with the
Catholic preachers, and consequently many converts are made to
the Catholic religion. A Consul-General at Rome might answer the
purpose of an agent, and, without being an accredited Minister,
perform all the functions of one. This was the pith of what he
said, besides a great deal about the Catholic religion itself,
its inferiority to the Reformed, its incompatibility with free
institutions, and a good deal more, not much to the purpose.
Bunsen is a man of very considerable information, learned, very
obliging, and communicative, sensible, moderate, but rather
prejudiced. At this moment he is full of the French expedition
[to Algiers], and their colonising projects, of which he is
thoroughly persuaded and not a little afraid.
The Duc de Dalberg told me that at the Congress of Vienna he was
deputed to speak to Consalvi about ceding the March of Ancona to
the Austrians. He answered, 'My dear Duke, the Congress can treat
us as it pleases. If we are pressed, we must retreat to the
walls; further we cannot go, and we are there already.' The
Cardinal afterwards spoke to the Emperor, and the next day
Metternich said he had orders from the Emperor to declare that he
would take nothing from the Pontifical States without the free
concurrence of the Pope; so there ended that question.
[Page Head: FRASCATI]
_At night._--Just returned from Frascati with Henry de Ros--a
very agreeable expedition. We went to the inn, a most execrable
hotel, but dined very well on a repast we had the foresight to
take with us. Before dinner went to the Villa Conti, which has a
delicious garden, with fine trees and ample shade, and one of the
prettiest falls of water I have seen. The house we did not enter,
but it appeared small. To the Villa Marconi, without any garden,
but a capital house, and the only one which looks well kept and
inhabited. The Marconi house in the Conti garden would be
perfect. After dinner to Tusculum, a beautiful walk under shade,
with magnificent views over the Campagna on one side and Monte
Cavo, Rocca di Papa, and the Prati d'Annibale on the other. The
remains at Tusculum are next to nothing, part of a theatre, of an
aqueduct, and of the walls. I believe the town was destroyed by
Pope Celestine III. (1191), in order to extirpate a band of
robbers which had long infested the country and made Tusculum
their stronghold. All the country hereabout is beautiful, and the
air excellent, so that a more perfect residence cannot be
imagined. To the Villa Belvidere, belonging to Prince Aldobrandini,
deserted and neglected, but very enjoyable, full of childish
waterworks, but a good house, which is to be hired for £150 a
year, and might be made very comfortable. Here is Mount
Parnassus, and the water turns an organ, and so makes Apollo and
the Muses utter horrid sounds, and a Triton has a horn which he
is made to blow, producing a very discordant noise. I fell in
with Lady Sandwich, and went back to tea with her at a villa
which belonged to the Cardinal York. There are the royal arms of
England, a bust of the Cardinal, and a picture of his father or
brother. We also went to the Rufinella, whence the view is
extremely fine; this was Lucien Buonaparte's villa, and the scene
of the capture of a painter and a steward by the banditti, who
carried them off from the door of the villa and took them into
the Abruzzi, which may be descried from the terrace. The cicerone
who went with us (a tiresome and chattering fellow) told us that
he had attended Queen Caroline, that they had come to him for
evidence against her, and he had declared he knew nothing; but he
said he could have deposed to some things unfavourable to her,
having seen her and Bergami together and witnessed their
familiarity.
[Page Head: PROTESTANT STATES AND ROME]
June 4th, 1830 {p.391}
Yesterday rode round the walls. In the evening to the Vatican,
and afterwards to Bunsen's. He gave me his memorandum to read,
which is contained in a letter to Wilmot Horton of the 28th of
December, 1828, upon the settlement of the Catholic question, and
his view of the mode in which it might be done. He approves of
Wilmot's plan, not knowing at that time that the Duke had
resolved to grant unqualified emancipation. In this paper he
describes the existing arrangements between the other Protestant
Powers and the Court of Rome, and states in what manner he thinks
we might pursue a similar course. It is well done, and his ideas
appear to me very clear and sound. It is pretty evident that we
should meet with no difficulties here, and that they would
practically agree to everything we should require, provided we
did not insist upon their doing so in specific terms. Our
difficulties would arise from the extreme parties at home--the
ultra-Catholics and the ultra-Protestants--but a steady hand
might steer betwixt them both. Bunsen describes what has been
done in Prussia, Hanover, Netherlands, and the minor German
States; the Prussian arrangements appear to be the wisest. When
the King of Prussia began to negotiate, he did not allow his
Ministers to enter upon any discussion of principles, nor to ask
for any express sanction of the _status quo_. On the other hand
he did not prescribe to the Church of Rome the canonical form in
which an express or tacit acknowledgment of the claims and rights
of the Crown was to be made as to the secularisation of Church
property. The Netherlands went on a different plan, and framed a
constitution of the Roman Catholic Church in their dominions,
called a Pragmatic Sanction, which they wanted the Pope to
acknowledge. The Hanoverian Government also wished to conclude a
formal treaty, and oblige the Pope to sanction certain civil
regulations concerning Church government. He observes that the
Court of Rome will appear ignorant of, and thus tacitly
acknowledge, many things which it never will nor can expressly
sanction and approve.
Throughout Germany, both Catholic and Protestant, all
correspondence between the clergy and the Pope goes through the
Government by the law of the country--all matters public and
private--the Pope's bulls and briefs are returned in the same
way; and whenever any of these contain expressions which run
against the national laws, the _placet regium_ is only given with
clauses reserving the rights of the Crown, and annulling what is
irreconcilable with the civil law. The Court of Rome is quite
aware of this practice, and the legations of Bavaria and Austria,
as well as those of Prussia and Hanover, present the respective
petitions of their clergy through their Roman agents. Bunsen says
nothing can be practically more established, but that no
consideration would induce the Pope formally to sanction the
practice in a treaty.
In the arrangements respecting the appointment of bishops and
dignitaries, Prussia proposed the establishment of chapters, with
the same right of election which had existed before the French
Revolution. The smaller States of Germany followed a similar
plan. Hanover proposed and obtained a veto. The chapter presents
a list; the Government strikes out any name, but must leave two,
out of which the chapter may elect, but in case of irregularity
or inconvenience the chapter may make a second list. The
Netherlands have the same system of limited veto and second list,
and the confidential brief in addition.[10] The chapters have the
right of election, the Pope of confirmation, by canonical
institution as the necessary condition of the bishop's consecration;
but besides a confidential brief was agreed on desiring the
chapter not to elect as bishop a person 'minus gratam serenissimo
regi;' this ensures respect to the royal recommendation.
[10] [These facts, originally suggested by Bunsen at Rome to
Mr. Greville were afterwards used by him as the basis
of his argument for the establishment of diplomatic
relations with the Court of Rome in his book on the
'Policy of England to Ireland,' published in 1845.]
June 5th, 1830 {p.393}
Yesterday morning called on M. de la Ferronays, but only saw him
for a minute, for the Austrian Ambassador arrived, and I was
obliged to go. He is in great alarm as well as sorrow at the
appointment of M. de Peyronnet[11] and the aspect of affairs in
France. He told me that he had so little idea of this appointment
that he would have guessed anybody rather than that man, who was
so odious that he had been rejected for three successive places,
for the representation of which he had stood when he was
Minister; that Villèle, with all his influence, could not get him
elected; and that in the Chamber of Peers he had been so
intemperate that he had been repeatedly called to order, a thing
which hardly ever occurred; that the Government had evidently
thrown away the scabbard by naming him on the eve of a general
election, and thus offering a sort of insult to the whole nation;
that it rendered his own position here very disagreeable,
although his was an ecclesiastical and not a political mission,
and that he in fact considered it only as an honourable retreat;
yet he had written to Polignac the moment the news reached him,
saying that if he considered him as in the least degree
implicated politically with his Government he should immediately
resign, and that if he found by his answer that he looked upon
him as in the remotest degree connected with their measures he
should instantly retire. I saw Dalberg afterwards, who appears to
me deeply alarmed. He looks with anxiety to the Duke of
Wellington as the only man whose authority or interference can
arrest the French Ministry in the career which must plunge France
into a civil war, if not create a general war in Europe. He
believes that Metternich and the Austrians are backing up Charles
X., and that, in case of any troubles, they will, in virtue of
the Treaty of Chaumont, pour troops into France. His hope, then,
is that the Duke will interpose and prevent this Austrian
interference.
[11] [M. de Peyronnet was the Garde des Sceaux in the
Polignac Cabinet: he was considered one of the most
reactionary members of that ill-fated Administration.]
When La Ferronays told Polignac his opinion of the course he was
beginning, the other only said, 'Mon cher, tu ne connais pas le
pays.' The King told Dalberg himself that he would rather labour
for his bread than be King of England; that it was not being a
king. In his presence, too, he asked General ----, the Governor
of Paris, what was the disposition of the troops, and he
answered, 'Excellent, sir; I have been in all the _casernes_, and
they desire nothing so much as to fight for your Majesty;' and
such words as these the King swallows and acts upon. Their
confidence, audacity, and presumption are certainly admirable,
disdaining any art and management, and apparently anxious to
bring about a crisis with the least possible delay.
[Page Head: POLIGNAC AND VILLÈLE]
June 7th, 1830 {p.394}
Drove about yesterday taking leave of people and places, the
former of which I probably shall, and the latter shall not, see
again. I have seen almost everything, but leave Rome with great
regret, principally because I am afraid I shall never come again.
If I was sure of returning I should not mind it.
_Three o'clock._--Have determined to stay till after the Corpus
Domini. Called on the Cardinal, who received me _à bras ouverts_,
was full of civilities, and reconducted me to the outward room;
talked of the Catholics and of the anxiety of his Government to
see relations established with ours. I was obliged to go and take
leave of him, for Bruti brought me a message full of politeness
and a letter to convey to the Nuncio at Paris. Then to La
Ferronays, who says, as does Dalberg, that he is persuaded it
will end by the recall of Villèle to the Ministry, a compromise
that all parties will be glad to make--that he has had the
prudence to decline being a party to Polignac's Administration,
and when he is called to form one he will have nothing to say to
Polignac.[12] It certainly will be curious if Villèle, after
being driven from the Government with universal execration, and
almost proscribed, should in two years be recalled by the general
voice as the only man who can save France from anarchy and civil
war. La Ferronays says that Villèle is not a great Minister, but
a clever man, with great ingenuity and the art of management. He
wishes to be thought like Pitt, who was also obliged to quit the
Ministry, and afterwards resumed it; and he considers Polignac as
his Addington, not that the resemblance holds good in any of the
particulars, either of the men, or the times, or the circumstances.
[12] [M. de Villèle had come to Paris from his country seat
in April, and a secret attempt had been made to bring
him back to power. Prince Polignac offered him a seat
in the Cabinet, but showed no disposition to make way
for him. The King feared Villèle and preferred
Polignac. Yet if M. de Villèle had then returned to
power, he would probably have saved the monarchy and
changed the course of events in Europe. (See Duvergier
de Hauranne, 'Histoire du Gouvernement parlementaire en
France,' tome x. p. 468; for a narration of these
transactions.)]
June 8th, 1830 {p.395}
Last night to the La Ferronays', when the Princess Aldobrandini
was so delighted with the anecdote of my horse-shoe that she is
gone off to the Pantheon to look at it. It was a full moon and a
clear night, so I went to the Coliseum, and passed an hour there.
I never saw it so well; the moon rode above without a cloud, but
with a brilliant planet close to her; there was not a breath of
air, not a human being near but the soldiers at the gates below,
and the monk above with me; not a sound was heard but those
occasional noises of the night, the bark of a dog, the chimes
from churches and convents, the chirp of a bird, which only
served to make silence audible. Though I have seen the Coliseum a
dozen times before, I never was so delighted with its beauty and
grandeur as to-night. No description in poetry or painting can do
it justice; it is a 'wreck of ruinous perfection,' whose charm
must be felt, and on such a night as this. The measures which the
Government have taken to save the Coliseum from destruction will
certainly accomplish that end, but its picturesque appearance
will be greatly damaged. There is no part of the ruin which is
not already supported by some modern brickwork, and they are
building a wall which will nearly surround it. If they had been
more selfish they would have left it to moulder away, and
posterity to grumble over their stinginess or indifference. I am
always tossed backwards and forwards between admiration of the
Coliseum and St. Peter's, and admire most that which I see last.
They are certainly 'magis pares quam similes,' but worth
everything else in Italy put together, except Paestum.
[Page Head: EXCOMMUNICATION OF A THIEF]
To-day the spiritual arms of the Church are to be fulminated
against a sinner in a case which is rather curious. There are two
brothers who live at a place called Genezzano, in two adjoining
houses, which formerly formed but one, belonging to the Colonna
family, of whom the progenitors of these men bought it. A short
time ago a man came to the brothers, and told them that in a
particular spot on the premises there was a treasure concealed,
the particulars of which he had learned from a memorandum in the
papers of the Colonna family, to which he had got access, and he
proposed to discover the same to them, if they would give him a
part of it. They agreed, when he told them that under a little
column built against a wall they would find a flat brick,
covering a hole, in which was an earthen pot containing 2,000
ducats in gold. The column was there, so at night the brothers
set to work to take it down, and beneath it they found the flat
stone as described. When one of them (an apothecary) said to the
other that, after all, it was probably an invention, that they
should be laughed at for their pains, and he thought they had
better give up the search, the other (who must be a great flat)
said, 'Very well,' and they retired to bed. In the morning the
apothecary told the other that in the night he could not help
thinking of this business, and that his curiosity had induced him
to get up and dig on, and that he had actually found the pot, but
nothing in it. The other, flat as he was, could not stand this,
and, on examining the pot, he found marks which, on further
investigation, turned out to be indications of coin having been
in it. The thief stuck to his story, so the dupe complained, and,
as the presumption is considered to be strongly against him, they
are going to try what excommunication will do. It is remarkable
that they asked this man if he would swear upon the Host that he
had not found any money, and this he refused to do, though he
continued to deny it and to decline restitution. He was accounted
a very religious man, and these were religious scruples, which,
however, were not incompatible with robbery and fraud. His
refusal to swear was taken as a moral evidence of guilt, and he
was to be excommunicated to-day.
June 9th, 1830 {p.397}
Saw Torlonia's house; very fine, and the only one in Rome which
is comfortably furnished, and looks as if it was inhabited. A
great many good pictures, and Canova's Hercules and Lycus, which
I do not admire. In the evening to the Convent of SS. Giovanni e
Paolo, which is remarkably clean and well kept. There are
forty-five friars (Passionisti), whose vows were not irrevocable,
and, though the cases do not often occur, they can lay aside the
habit if they please. They live on charity. In their garden is a
beautiful palm, one of three which grow in Rome. They have
several apartments for strangers who may like to retire to the
convent for a few days, which are very decently furnished, clean,
and not uncomfortable. They were at supper when I got there, so
I went to look at them. They eat in silence at two long tables
like those in our college halls, and instead of conversation they
were entertained by some passages of the life of St. Ignatius,
which a friar was reading from a pulpit. Their supper seemed by
no means despicable, for I met a smoking _frittura_ which looked
and smelt very good, and the table was covered with bread, fruit,
vegetables, and wine. But they fast absolutely three times a
week, and whip themselves (_la disciplina_) three others. They
teach theology and _la dogmatica_, and there is a library
containing (they told me) books of all sorts, though their
binding (for I only saw them through a trellis) looked desperately
theological. At night to a very fine _feu d'artifice_ in the
Piazza San Lorenzo, which ended the festivities in honour of San
Francisco Caraccioli, whose name appeared emblazoned amidst
rockets and squibs and crackers, and the uproarious delight of
the mob. Afterwards to the Pantheon to see it by moonlight, but
the moon was not exactly over the roof, so it failed, but the
effect of the partial light and the stars above was fine with the
torches below half hid behind the columns.
June 10th, 1830 {p.398}
I thought I had seen everything here worth seeing, yet, though I
have been several times to the Capitol, I have somehow missed
seeing the Palazzo dei Conservatori, containing the famous wolf
that suckled Romulus and Remus, in bronze, said to have been
struck by lightning (of which it bears all the marks) the day
Julius Caesar was killed; the boy picking the thorn from his
foot; the statue of the first Brutus; the geese of the Capitol
(which are more like ducks); and the Fasti Consulares. It just
occurred to me in time, and I went there yesterday morning. After
dinner to the Villa Ludovisi with the Dalbergs and Aldobrandinis,
which must owe its celebrity principally to the difficulty of
getting access to it. I was extremely disappointed; Guercino's
'Aurora' is not to be compared to Guido's; his 'Day' and 'Night'
are very fine, and the 'Fame' magnificent, but the ladies bustled
through so rapidly that it was not possible to examine anything.
The gardens are large, but all straight walks and clipped hedges.
The gallery of statues contains three or four fine things, but
they are huddled together and their effect spoilt.
[Page Head: PROCESSION OF THE CORPUS CHRISTI]
June 11th, 1830 {p.399}
Whilst the carriage is getting ready I may as well scribble the
last day at Rome. And this morning went at eight to the Palazzo
Accoramboni, to see the procession of the Corpus Domini, and was
disappointed. This Palazzo Accoramboni, in which we were
accommodated, belonged to a very rich old man, who was married to
a young and pretty wife. He died and left her all his fortune,
but, suspecting that she was attached to a young man who used to
frequent the house, he made the bequest conditional upon her not
marrying again, and if she did the whole property was to go to
some religious order. She was fool enough (and the man too) to
marry, but clandestinely. She had two children, and this brought
the marriage to light. They therefore lost the property,
amounting to £10,000 or £12,000 a year; but the Pope, in his vast
generosity, allows her out of it 300 piastres (about £65) a year,
and gives a portion of 1,000 piastres (£200) to each of the
little girls. It is supposed that she consulted some priest, who
urged her to marry secretly, and then revealed the fact to the
order interested. Otherwise it is difficult to account for their
folly.
The magnificence of ceremonies and processions here depends upon
the locality, and the awnings and flowers round the piazza spoilt
it all. It was long and rather tiresome--all the monks and
religious orders in Rome, the cardinals and the Pope, plenty of
wax-lights, banners, and crosses, the crosses of Constantine and
Charlemagne. The former is not genuine; that of Charlemagne is
really the one he gave to the See. The Pope looks as if he was
huddled into a short bed, and his throne, or whatever it is
called, is ill managed. He is supposed to be in the act of
adoration of the Host, which is raised before him, but as he
cannot kneel for such a length of time, he sits covered with
drapery, and with a pair of false legs stuck out behind to give
his figure the appearance of kneeling. Before him are borne the
triple crown and other Pontifical ornaments. The Guardia Nobile,
commanded by Prince Barberini, looked very handsome, and all the
troops _en très-belle tenue_. All the Ambassadors and foreigners
were in this palace, and from it we flocked to St. Peter's, which
is always a curious sight on these occasions from the multitudes
in it and the variety of their appearance and occupation--
cardinals, princes, princesses, mixed up with footmen, pilgrims,
and peasants. Here, Mass going on at an altar, and crowds
kneeling round it; there, the Host deposited amidst a peal of
music at another; in several corners, cardinals dressing or
undressing, for they all take off the costume they wore in the
procession and resume their scarlet robes in the church; men
hurrying about with feathers, banners, and other paraphernalia of
the day, the peasantry in their holiday attire, and crowds of
curious idlers staring about. All this is wonderfully amusing,
and is a scene which presents itself in continual variety. Went
afterwards and took leave of all my friends--La Ferronays,
Dalbergs, Bunsens, Lovaines, &c.--and at seven, to my great
sorrow, left Rome. But as I do all that superstition dictates, I
drank in the morning a glass of water at the Fountain of Trevi,
for they say that nobody ever drinks of the Fountain of Trevi
without returning to Rome.
The road about Narni and Augustus's Bridge is beautifully
picturesque. I set off directly to the cascade, with which I was
as much delighted as I was disappointed with that of Tivoli. It
is difficult to conceive anything more magnificent than the whole
of this scenery.
[Page Head: FALLS OF TERNI]
Florence, June 10th, 1830 {p.400}
The horses were announced, and I was obliged to break off my
account of Terni and resume it here, where I arrived after a
tedious journey of forty hours, from Rome.
Most people are dragged up the mountain by _bovi_, see the upper
part of the fall, and walk down. But as the _bovi_ were not at
hand, I reversed the usual order, walked to the bottom, and then
toiled to the top. The walk, which is lovely, lies through the
grounds of a count, who has a house close to the Nera (the Nera
(Nar) is the river into which the Velino runs, and in which there
is very good trout fishing), where the Queen of England once
lived for a month. At the different points of view are little
cabins (which would be very picturesque if they were less rudely
constructed) for the accommodation of artists and other
travellers. This gentleman has got a house which he reserves for
the use of artists, of which there are always several on the spot
during the summer. They pay nothing for the accommodation, but
each is obliged to leave a drawing when he goes away; and by this
means he has got an interesting collection, of the scenery of
Terni. Nothing can be more accurate, as well as beautiful, than
Byron's description of the cascade, and it is wonderful in his
magnificent poetry, how he has kept his imagination within the
bounds of truth, and neither added a circumstance nor lavished an
epithet to which it is not entitled.
Horribly beautiful! but on the verge
From side to side, beneath the glittering morn,
An Iris sits amidst the infernal surge,
Like Hope upon a death-bed, and, unworn
Its steady dyes, while all around is torn
By the distracted waters, bears serene
Its brilliant hues with all their beams unshorn:
Resembling, 'mid the torture of the scene,
Love watching Madness with unalterable mien.
The rainbows are very various, seen from different points: from
the middle, where the river rushes from the vortex of the great
fall to plunge into another, the stream appears to be painted
with a broad layer of divers colours, never broken or mixed till
they are tossed up in the cloud of spray, and mingled with it in
a thousand variegated sparkles. Above, an iris bestrides the
moist green hill which rises by the side of the fall; and, as the
spray is whirled up in greater or less abundance, it perpetually
and rapidly changes its colours, now disappearing altogether, and
now beaming with the utmost vividness. The man told me that at
night the moon forms a white rainbow on the hill. There is a
delicious but dangerous coolness all about the cascade. All the
scenery about is as beautiful as possible. Just above the great
fall is the Velinus tearing along in the same channel, which was
first made for him by the Roman Consul 2,200 years ago--
Velino cleaves the wave-worn precipice--
and there, the guide told me, some years ago a man threw in a
young and beautiful wife of whom he was jealous. He took her to
see the cascade, and when he got to this part (which is at the
end of a narrow path overhung with brushwood) he got rid of the
boys who always follow visitors, and after some delay returned
alone, and said the woman had fallen in. One scream had been
heard, but there was nobody to witness the truth. The mangled
body was found in the stream below. Jealousy is probably common
here. As I was walking a man passed me, going in great haste to
the mountain, but I paid no attention to him. When I got back I
heard that he was escaping from justice (into the Abruzzi,
which are in the Neapolitan dominions), having stabbed his
brother-in-law a few moments before out of jealousy of his wife.
The wounded man was still alive, but badly hurt. The murderer was
_un bravo mechanico_.
The mountain and the river have undergone many revolutions. The
rock through which the present path is cut has been formed
entirely by petrified deposits, and there are marks in various
parts of former cascades, from which the water has been turned
away. Clement VIII. (Aldobrandini) turned the water into its
present course. At the bottom the old outlet of the Romans is
dry, but is marked with that solidity which defies time, like all
their works of this kind. Great part of the road from Terni is
beautiful, and the Papal towns and villages appear to be in much
better condition than on the other road. Some of them perched on
the mountains are remarkably picturesque.
Bologna, June 14th, 1830 {p.402}
I went yesterday morning to Pratolino to see the statue of the
genius of the Apennines, by John of Bologna, six miles from
Florence. Pratolino was the favourite residence of the famous
Bianca Capello. The house has been pulled down. It is in a very
pretty English garden belonging to the Grand Duke, and, I think,
amazingly grand, but disgraced by presiding over a duck pond.
They told me that if he stood up (and he looks as if he could if
he would) he would be thirty _braccia_ in height. I went into his
head, and surveyed him on all sides. He ought to be placed over
some torrent, or on the side of a mountain; but as he is, from a
little distance (whence the ducks and their pond are not visible)
he is sublime. Myriads of fire-flies sparkled in every bush; they
are beautiful in a night journey, flitting about like meteors and
glittering like shooting stars.
[Page Head: MEZZOFANTI]
Dined with Lady Normanby at Sesto, set off at half-past eight,
and arrived here at nine this morning. The first thing I did was
to present my letter to Madame de Marescalchi from her sister,
the Duchesse de Dalberg, who received me graciously and asked me
to dinner; the next to call on Mezzofanti at the public library,
whom I found at his desk in the great room, surrounded by a great
many people reading. He received me very civilly, and almost
immediately took me into another room, where I had a long
conversation with him. He seems to be between fifty and sixty
years of age, short, pale, and thin, and not at all remarkable in
countenance or manner. He spoke English with extraordinary
fluency and correctness, and with a very slight accent. I
endeavoured to detect some inaccuracy of expression, but could
not, though perhaps his phraseology was occasionally more stiff
than that of an Englishman would be. He gave me an account of his
beginning to study languages, which he did not do till he was of
a mature age. The first he mastered were the Greek and Hebrew,
the latter on account of divinity, and afterwards he began the
modern languages, acquiring the idioms of each as he became
acquainted with the parent tongue. He said that he had no
particular disposition that way when a child, and I was surprised
when he said that the knowledge of several languages was of no
assistance to him in mastering others; on the contrary, that when
he set to work at a fresh language he tried to put out of his
head all others. I asked him of all modern languages which he
preferred, and which he considered the richest in literature. He
said, 'Without doubt the Italian.' He then discussed the genius
of the English language, and the merits of our poets and
historians, read, and made me read, a passage of an English book,
and then examined the etymology and pronunciation of several
words. He has never been out of Italy, or further in it than
Leghorn, talks of going to Rome, but says it is so difficult to
leave his library. He is very pleasing, simple, and communicative,
and it is extraordinary, with his wonderful knowledge, that he
should never have written and published any work upon languages.
He asked me to return if I stayed at Bologna. The library has a
tolerable suite of apartments, and the books, amounting to about
80,000 volumes, are in excellent order. One thousand crowns a
year are allowed for the purchase of new books.
The Bolognese jargon is unintelligible. A man came and asked him
some questions while I was there in a language that was quite
strange to me, and when I asked Mezzofanti what it was, he said
Bolognese, and that, though not harmonious, it was forcible and
expressive. Afterwards to the gallery, which contains the finest
pictures in Italy, though only a few: the Guidos and Domenichinos
are splendid. I think Domenichino the finest painter that ever
existed.
June 15th, 1830 {p.404}
Dined yesterday with Madame de Marescalchi, who lives in a great
palace, looking dirty and uncomfortable, except one or two rooms
which they occupy. There is a gallery of pictures, all of which
are for sale. Seven or eight Italians came to dinner, whose names
I never discovered. After dinner she took me to the Certosa, to
see the Campo Santo, which is a remarkably pretty spot, and the
dead appear to be more agreeably lodged at Bologna than the
living. I had much rather die here than live here. It is very
unlike the Campo Santo at Pisa, entirely modern, and looks
exceedingly cheerful. Guido's skull is kept here.
Went again to the gallery, and the Zambeccari Palace, where there
are a few good pictures, but not many. All the pictures in all
the palaces are for sale.
[Page Head: FERRARA]
_In the ferry, crossing the Po_ (i.e. written in the
ferry).--Called on Madame de Marescalchi to take leave. Set off
at half-past one, and in clouds of dust arrived at Ferrara. It is
curious to see this town, so large, deserted, and melancholy. A
pestilence might have swept over it, for there seems no life in
it, and hardly a soul is to be seen in the streets. It is eight
and a half miles round, and contains 24,000 inhabitants, of which
3,000 are Jews, and their quarter is the only part of the town
which seems alive. They are, as usual, crammed into a corner,
five streets being allotted to them, at each end of which is a
gate that is closed at nine o'clock, when the Jews are shut in
for the night. The houses are filthy, stinking, and out of
repair. The Corso is like a street in an English town, broad,
long, the houses low, and with a _trottoir_ on both sides. The
Castle, surrounded by a moat, stands in the middle of the town, a
gloomy place. In it lives the Cardinal Legate. I went to see the
dungeon in which Tasso was confined; and the library, where they
show Ariosto's chair and inkstand, a medal found upon his body
when his tomb was opened, two books of his manuscript poetry;
also the manuscript of the 'Gerusalemme,' with the alterations
which Tasso made in it while in prison, and the original
manuscript of Guarini's 'Pastor Fido.' The _custode_ told me that
in the morning the library was full of readers, which I did not
believe. There are some illuminated Missals, said to be the
finest in Italy. Though the idea of gaiety seems inconsistent
with Ferrara, they have an opera, corso, and the same round of
festivals and merriment as other Italian towns, but I never saw
so dismal a place.
[Page Head: VENICE]
Venice, June 16th, 1830 {p.405}
We crossed the Po, and afterwards the Adige, in boats. The
country is flat, and reminded me of the Netherlands. I was asleep
all night, but awoke in time to see some of the villas on the
banks of the Brenta. Of Padua I was unconscious. Embarked in a
gondola at Fusina, and arrived at this remarkable city under the
bad auspices of a dark, gloomy, and very cold day. It is Venice,
but living Venice no more. In my progress to the inn I saw
nothing but signs of ruin and blasted grandeur, palaces half
decayed, and the windows boarded up. The approach to the city is
certainly as curious as possible, so totally unlike everything
else, and on entering the Great Canal, and finding
The death-like silence and the dread repose
of a place which was once the gayest and most brilliant in the
world, a little pang shoots across the imagination, recollecting
its strange and romantic history and its poetical associations.
_Two o'clock._--I am just driven in by a regular rainy day, and
have the prospect of shivering through the rest of it in a room
with marble floor and hardly any furniture. However, it is the
only bad day there has been since the beginning of my expedition.
The most striking thing in Venice (at least in such weather as
this) is the unbroken silence. The gondolas glide along without
noise or motion, and, except other gondolas, one may traverse the
city without perceiving a sign of life. I went first to the
Church of Santa Maria dei Frati, which is fine, old, and adorned
with painting and sculpture. At Santa Maria dei Frati Titian was
buried. Canova intended a monument for him, but after his death
his design was executed and put up in this church, but for him,
and not for Titian, the reverse of 'sic vos non vobis.' Here are
tombs of several Doges, of Francis Foscari, with a pompous
inscription. The body of Carmagnola lies here in a wooden coffin;
his head is under the stone on which it was cut off in the Piazza
di San Marco. He was beheaded by one of those pieces of iniquity
and treachery which the Venetian Government never scrupled to use
when it suited them. Then to the Scuola di San Rocco, containing
a splendid apartment and staircase, all richly gilded, painted by
Tintoret, and with bronze doors. To the Church of Santa Maria
della Salute, containing a very rich altar-piece of precious
stones, which is locked up, and produced on great occasions; and
in the sacristy three fine pictures by Titian. To the Church of
St. Mark and the Doge's Palace--all very interesting, antique,
and splendid. But the Austrians have modernised some of the
rooms, and consequently spoilt them. They have also blocked up
the Bridge of Sighs, and the reason (they told me) is that all
the foreigners who come here are so curious to walk over it,
which seems an odd one for shutting it up. The halls of audience
and of the different councils are magnificently gilded, and
contain some very fine pictures.
The Hall of the Council of Ten (the most powerful and the
most abominable tribunal that ever existed) has been partly
modernised. In the Chamber of the Inquisitors of State is still
the hole in the wall which was called the 'Lion's Mouth,' through
which written communications were made; and the box into which
they fell, which the Inquisitors alone could open. There were
'Bocche di Lioni' in several places at the head of the Giant's
Staircase, and in others. The mouths are gone, but the holes
remain. Though the interior of the Ponte di Sospiri is no longer
visible, the prisons are horrible places, twenty-four in number,
besides three others under water which the French had closed up.
They are about fourteen feet long, seven wide, and seven high,
with one hole to admit air, a wooden bed, which was covered
with straw, and a shelf. In one of the prisons are several
inscriptions, scrawled on the wall and ceiling.
Di chi mi fido, mi guardi Iddio,
Di chi non mi fido, mi guardo io.
Un parlar pocho, un negar pronto,
Un pensar in fine può dar la vita
A noi altri meschini.
Non fida d'alcuno, pensi e tacci
Se fuggir vuoi di spioni, insidie e lacci.
Il pentirti, il pentirti, nulla giova
Ma ben del valor tuo far vera prova.
There are two places in which criminals, or prisoners, were
secretly executed; they were strangled, and without seeing their
executioner, for a cord was passed through an opening, which he
twisted till the victim was dead. This was the mode pursued with
the prisoners of the Inquisitors; those of the Council were often
placed in a cell to which there was a thickly grated window,
through which the executioner did his office, and if they
resisted he stabbed them in the throat. The wall is still covered
with the blood of those who have thus suffered. From the time of
their erection, 800 years ago, to the destruction of the Republic
nobody was ever allowed to see these prisons, till the French
came and threw them open, when the people set fire to them and
burnt all the woodwork; the stone was too solid to be destroyed.
One or two escaped, and they remain as memorials of the horrors
that were perpetrated in them.
[Page Head: VENICE]
June 17th, 1830 {p.408}
This morning was fine again, and everything looks gayer than
yesterday. From the Rialto to the Piazza di San Marco there is
plenty of life and movement, and it is exactly like Cranbourne
Alley and the other alleys out of Leicester Square. While Venice
was prosperous St. Mark's must have been very brilliant, but
everything is decayed. All round the piazza are coffee houses,
which used to be open and crowded all night, and some of them are
still open, but never crowded. They used to be illuminated with
lamps all round, but most of these are gone. One sees a few Turks
smoking and drinking their coffee here, but they are all obliged
to dine and sleep in one house, which is on the Grand Canal, and
called the Casa dei Turchi. I went this morning to the Chiesa
Scalzi, San Georgio Meggiore, Redentore, SS. Giovanni e Paolo,
and the Gesuiti. The latter is the most beautiful church I ever
saw, the whole of it adorned with white marble inlaid with verd
antique in a regular pattern. SS. Giovanni e Paolo has no marble
or gilding, but is full of monuments of Doges and generals. To
the Manfrini Palace for the pictures. The finest picture in the
palace is Titian's 'Deposition from the Cross,' for which the
Marchese Manfrini refused 10,000 ducats. A Guido (Lucretia) and
some others. Tintoret was no doubt a great genius, but his large
pictures I cannot admire, and Bassano's still less. Titian's
portrait of Ariosto is the most interesting in the collection. To
the Arsenal, which is three miles in circumference, and a
prodigious establishment. In the time of the Republic there were
nearly 6,000 men employed in it, in that of the French 4,000, now
800. The old armoury is very curious, full of ancient weapons,
the armour of Henry IV. of France, and of several Doges, Turkish
spoils, and instruments of torture. The Austrians have made the
French much regretted here. It is since the last peace that the
population of Venice has diminished a fourth, and the palaces of
the nobles have been abandoned. There is no commerce; the
Government spend no money, and do nothing to enliven or benefit
the town (there has not yet been time to see the effect of making
it a free port). The French employed the people, and spent money
and embellished the place. They covered over a wide canal and
turned it into a fine street, and adjoining it they formed a
large public garden, which is a delightful addition to the town.
Till the French came the bridges were dangerous; there was no
balustrade on either side, and people often fell into the water.
They built side walls to all of them, which was the most useful
gift they could bestow upon the Venetians.
This morning I asked for the newspapers which came by the post
yesterday, and found that they had not yet returned from the
police, and would not be till to-morrow. Before anybody is
allowed to read their newspapers they must undergo examination,
and if they contain anything which the censor deems objectionable
they detain them altogether. After dinner I went to the public
gardens, and into a theatre which is in them; there is no roof to
it, and the acting is all by daylight, and in the open air. I
only arrived at the end, just in time to see the deliverance of a
Christian heroine and a very truculent-looking Turk crammed down
a trap-door, but I could not understand the dialogue. Nothing
certainly can be more extraordinary or more beautiful than Venice
with her adjacent islands, and nothing more luxurious than
throwing oneself into a gondola and smoothly gliding about the
whole day, without noise, motion, or dust. At night I went to a
dirty, ill-lit theatre, to see the 'Barbiere di Seviglia,' which
was very ill performed. There was a ballet, but I did not stay
for it.
June 18th, 1830 {p.409}
To the Church of St. Mark, and examined it. It is not large, but
very curious, so loaded with ornament within and without, and so
unlike any other church. The pavement, instead of being flat, is
made to undulate like the waves of the sea. All the sides are
marble, all the top mosaic, all the pavement coloured marble in
exquisite patterns. There is not a single tomb in it, but it
wants no ornament that the wealth and skill of ages could supply.
Climbed up the tower to see Venice and the islands; a man is
posted here day and night to strike the hours and quarters on a
great bell, to ring the alarm in case of fire in any part of the
city. It is a very curious panorama, and the only spot from which
this strange place can be completely seen. In the Grimani Palace
there are some Titians (not very good) of Grimani Doges, and
others of the family; the famous statue of Agrippa, which
Cardinal Grimani brought from Home, and a ceiling by Salviati of
Neptune and Minerva contending to give a name to Athens. In the
Pisani Palace, a fine picture of P. Veronese, 'Darius's Family at
the Feet of Alexander.'[13] The Barbarigo Palace has never been
modernised, has kept all its original form and decorations. It is
full of Titians, all very dirty and spoiling. The finest is the
'Magdalen,' which is famous. The Royal Academy, called the Scuola
della Carità, contains a magnificent collection of the Venetian
school.
[13] [This fine work is now in the National Gallery,
London.]
In I forget which church is the 'Martyrdom of St. Peter' by
Titian, so like in composition the same subject by Domenichino at
Bologna that the one is certainly an imitation of the other
(Titian died in 1576; Domenichino was born in 1581). There is the
same sort of landscape, same number of figures, and in the same
respective attitudes and actions, and even the same dress to
each. In the hall of the Academy are preserved Canova's right
hand in an urn, and underneath it his chisel, with these words
inscribed: 'Quod amoris monumentum idem gloriae instrumentum
fuit.' There is also a collection of drawings and sketches by
various masters; some by M. Angelo and some by Raphael.
[Page Head: VINCENZA AND PADUA]
Vicenza, June 19th, 1830 {p.411}
This morning went again to St. Mark's to examine the library and
the palace, which I could hardly see the other day, it was such,
gloomy weather. The library is open to everybody, but with a long
list of rules, among which silence is particularly enjoined. The
_custos librorum_ is a thorough Venetian; talked with fond regret
of the splendour of the Republic, and is very angry with Daru for
his history. The Hall of the Great Council, containing the
portraits of the Doges (and Marino Faliero's black curtain), is
splendid, and adorned with paintings of Paul Veronese, Bassano,
Tintoret, and Palma Giovane. At twelve o'clock I got into the
gondola and left Venice without the least regret or desire to
return there. The banks of the Brenta would be very gay if the
villas were inhabited, but most of them are shut up, like the
palaces at Venice. There is one magnificent building, formerly a
Pisani palace, which belongs to the Viceroy, the Archduke Rainer.
Padua is a large and rather gloomy town. They say it is beginning
to flourish, having been ruined by the French, and that, since
their downfall, the population has increased immensely. The
University contains 1,400 scholars. It contained 52,500 in the
time of the French, and in the great days of Padua 18,000. I went
to look at the outside of the building, which is not large, but
handsome. The old palace of the Carraras is half ruined, and what
remains is tenanted by the commandant of the place. The old Sala
di Giustizia, which, is very ancient, is now a lumber room, and
they were painting scenes in it. Still it is undamaged, and they
call it the finest room in Europe, and perhaps it is. It is 300
feet long, 100 wide, and 100 high. At one end of it is the
monument and bust of Livy, the latter of which they pretend to
have found here; they also talk of his house and the marbles,
&c., that have been dug up in it, which they may believe who can.
The Cathedral has nothing to boast of, except that Petrarch was
one of its canons, and in it is his bust, put up by a brother
canon. I had not time to go to the churches.
The whole road from Fusina to this place is as flat as the paper
on which I am writing. I really don't believe there is a
molehill, but it is extremely gay from the variety of habitations
and the prodigious cultivation of all sorts. Vicenza is one of
the most agreeable towns I ever saw, and I would rather live in
it than in any place I have seen since Rome. It is spacious and
clean, full of Palladio's architecture; besides the Palazzo della
Ragione, a very fine building, there are twenty-two palaces built
by him in various parts of the town. They show the house in which
he lived. From the Church of Santa Maria del Monte, a mile from
the town, there is a magnificent view, and the town itself, under
the mountains of the Tyrol, and the end of a vast cultivated
plain, looks very inviting and gay. There is a Campo di Marte, a
public walk and drive, and from it a covered walk (colonnade)
half a mile long up to the church on the hill. One of the most
remarkable things here is the Olympic Theatre, which was begun by
Palladio and finished by his son. It is a small Grecian theatre,
exactly as he supposes those ancient theatres to have been, with
the same proscenium, scenes, decorations, and seats for the
audience. There appeared to me to be some material variations
from the theatre at Pompeii. In the latter the seats go down to
the level of the orchestra, which they do not here, and at
Pompeii there is no depth behind the proscenium, whereas here
there is very considerable. It is, however, a beautiful model.
The air and the water are good, and there is shooting, so that I
really think it would be possible to live here. They talk with
horror of the French, and of the two seem to prefer the
Austrians, but peace is better than war, _caeteris paribus_.
[Page Head: BRESCIA AND MILAN]
Brescia, June 21st, 1830 {p.412}
This is a particularly nice town, airy, spacious, and clean, and
in my life I never saw so many good-looking women. There is a
drive and walk on the ramparts, where I found all the beauty and
fashion of Brescia, a string of carriages not quite so numerous
as in Hyde Park, but a very decent display. The women are
excessively dressed, and almost all wear black lace veils, thrown
over the back of the head, which are very becoming. The walks on
the ramparts are shaded by double rows of trees, and command a
very pretty view of the mountains and country round. This inn is
execrable. I stopped at Verona to see the Amphitheatre, which is
only perfect in the inside, and has been kept so by repeated
repairs. It is hardly worth seeing after the Flavian and the
Pompeiian. There is a wooden theatre in it, where they act, and
the spectators occupy the ancient seats. The tombs of the
Scaligeri are admirable, the most beautiful and graceful Gothic;
their castle (now the Castle Vecchio) a gloomy old building in a
moat, but with a very curious bridge over the Po. The Church of
St. Zeno is remarkable from its Gothic antiquity and the
profusion of ornament about it of a strange sort. Here is the
tomb of Pepin, erected by Charlemagne, but empty; for the French,
in one of their invasions, carried the body to France. In the
Cathedral is a fine picture of the 'Assumption of the Virgin' by
Titian. I saw many Veronese beauties in their balconies, but none
quite like Juliet. Her tomb (or, as they would say at Rome,
'sepolcro detto di Giulietta') I did not see, for it was too far
off. I was in a hurry to be off, and there was nobody to detain
me with a tender 'Wilt thou be gone? It is not yet near' _night_.
The road, which is excellent, runs in sight of the Alps all the
way, and the Lago di Garda is excessively pretty.
Milan, June 23rd, 1830 {p.413}
Milan is a very fine town, without much to see in it. The Duomo,
Amphitheatre, Arch of the Simplon, Brera (pictures). There are a
few fine pictures in the Brera; among others Guido's famous
'St. Peter and St. Paul,' Guercino's 'Hagar and Abraham;' a row
of old columns which were broken and lying about till the French
set them upon their legs; Leonardo da Vinci's fresco, which is
entirely spoilt. The view from the top of the Duomo is superb,
over the boundless plain of Lombardy with the range of the Alps,
and the Apennines in the distance. I like the Duomo, but I know
my taste is execrable in architecture. I don't, however, like the
mixture of Italian with the Gothic--balustrades over the
door, for instance--but I admire its tracery and laborious
magnificence. Buonaparte went on with it (for it was never
finished), and this Government are completing it by degrees;
there will be 7,000 statues on different parts of the outside,
and there are already 4,500. St. Charles Borromeo's tomb is very
splendid, and for five francs they offered to uncover the glass
case in which his much esteemed carcase reposes, and show me the
venerable mummy, but I could not afford it. The entrance to Milan
from Venice, and the Corso, are as handsome as can be. The Opera
is very bad, but the Scala is not open, and none of the good
singers are here.
Varese, June 26th, 1830 {p.414}
Left Milan at six o'clock on the 24th, and got to Como after
dark. Embarked in the steam boat at eight yesterday morning, went
as far as Cadenebbia, where I got out, saw the Villa Sommariva,
then crossed over and went round the point of Bellagio to see the
opening of the Lake of Lecco, turned back to the Villa Melzi, saw
the house and gardens, and then went back to dine at Cadenebbia,
and waited for the steam boat, which returned at four, and got
back to Como at half-past six. Nothing can surpass the beauty of
all this scenery, or the luxury of the villas, particularly
Melzi, which is the best house, and contains abundance of shade,
flowers, statues, and shrubberies. The owners live very little
there, and principally in winter, when, they say, it is seldom
cold in this sheltered spot. The late Count Melzi was Governor of
Milan under Napoleon, and used to feast the Viceroy here. He once
gave him a _fête_, and had all the mountain tops illuminated, of
which the effect must have been superb.
_Evening. Top of the Simplon._--Set off at five from Varese,
travelled very slowly through a very pretty road to Navero, where
I crossed the Lago Maggiore in a boat, and landed at the Isola
Bella, which is very fine in its way, though rather flattered in
its pictures. The house is large and handsome, and there is a
curious suite of apartments fitted up with pebbles, spars, and
marble, a suite of habitable grottoes. The garden and terraces
are good specimens of formal grandeur, and as the Count
Borromeo's son is a botanist, they are full of flowers and shrubs
of all sorts and climates.
Whatever fruits in different climes are found,
That proudly rise or humbly court the ground;
Whatever sweets salute the northern sky
With vernal flowers, that blossom, but to die;
These, here disporting, own the kindred soil,
Nor ask luxuriance from the planter's toil.
The expense of keeping this place up is immense, but the owner is
very rich. He lives there during August and September, and has
fifteen other country houses. All the island belongs to him, and
is occupied by the palace and gardens, except some fishermen's
huts, which are held by a sort of feudal tenure. They live there
as his vassals, fishing for him, rowing him about the lake, and
their children and wives alone are employed in the gardens. It
was built about 150 years ago by a younger son (a nephew of San
Carlo), who was richer than his elder brother. He was his own
architect, and planned both house and garden, but never completed
his designs. The cost was enormous, but if he had lived and
finished it all, he would have spent four millions more. There is
a laurel in the garden, the largest in Europe, two trees growing
from one stem, one nine and the other ten feet round and eighty
high; under this tree Buonaparte dined, as he came into Italy,
before the battle of Marengo, and with a knife he cut the word
'Battaglia' on the bark, which has since been stripped off, or
has grown out--so the gardeners said at least. Breakfasted at
Baveno, which is the best inn I have seen in Italy. The road from
Baveno is exceedingly beautiful, but on the whole I am rather
disappointed with the Simplon, though it is very wild and grand;
but I am no longer struck with the same admiration at the sight
of mountains that I was when I entered Savoy and saw them for the
first time. I walked the last thirteen miles of the ascent to
this place, and found one of the best dinners I ever tasted, or
one which my hunger made appear such.
[Page Head: RETURN TO ENGLAND]
Geneva, June 29th, 1830 {p.415}
Got here last night, and found twenty letters at least. I only
think of getting home as fast as I can. Left the Simplon in
torrents of rain, which lasted the whole day. The descent is
uncommonly grand, wild, savage, and picturesque, the Swiss side
the finest. All along the valley of the Rhone fine scenery; and
yesterday, in the most delightful weather I ever saw, the drive
from Martigny, along the lake and under the mountains, is as
beautiful as possible. The approach to Geneva is gay, but Mont
Blanc looks only very white, and not very tall, which is owing to
the level from which he is seen. They tell me it has never ceased
raining here, while on the other side of the Alps hardly a drop
has fallen. Only three rainy days while I was in Italy--one at
Venice, one at Rome, and a couple of halves elsewhere.
_Evening._--Passed the whole day driving about Geneva, in Bautt's
shop, and at the Panorama of Switzerland. Dined with Newton,
drove round the environs by Sécheron; a great appearance of
wealth and comfort, much cultivation, no beggars, and none of the
houses tumbling down and deserted. Altogether I like the
appearance of the place, though in a great hurry to get away from
it. We had a storm of thunder and lightning in the evening, which
was neither violent nor long, but I had the pleasure of hearing
Jura answer from her misty shroud
Back to the joyous Alps, that call on her aloud.
Mont Blanc was hid in clouds all day, but the mountains owe me
some grudge. Mont Blanc won't show his snows, nor would Vesuvius
his fires. It was dark when I crossed the Cenis, and raining when
I descended the Simplon.
[Page Head: DEATH OF GEORGE IV.]
Paris, July 3rd, 1830 {p.416}
Got here last night, after a fierce journey of sixty-three hours
from Geneva, only stopping two hours for breakfast; but by never
touching anything but bread and coffee I was neither heated nor
tired. The Jura Mountains, which they say are so tedious, were
the pleasantest part of the way, for the road is beautiful all
through them, not like the Alps, but like a hilly, wooded park.
It rained torrents when I set out, but soon cleared up, and when
I got to the top of the first mountain, I saw a mass of clouds
rise like a curtain and unveil the whole landscape of Geneva,
lake, mountains, and country--very fine sight. We heard of the
King's death in the middle of the night.
Calais, July 6th, 1830 {p.417}
Voilà qui est fini. Got here last night, and found the Government
packet only goes out five days a week, and not to-day. I am very
sorry my journey is all over, but glad to find myself in England
again--that is, when I get there. I saw Lord Stuart at Paris,
just breaking up his establishment and sending his wife off to
the Pyrenees. Heard all the news of London and Paris, such as it
was. Not a soul left in Paris, which was like a dead city. I only
heard that, notwithstanding the way the elections are going
against the Government, Polignac is in high spirits. The King of
France was very civil about the death of our King,[14] and,
without waiting, as is usual, for the announcement of the event
by the English Ambassador, he ordered the Court into mourning
upon the telegraphic account reaching Paris.
[14] [George IV. died at Windsor on the 26th of June, 1830.]
Here is the end of my brief but most agreeable expedition,
probably the only one I shall ever make. However this may be, I
have gained thus much at least--
A consciousness remains that it has left,
Deposited upon the silent shore
Of memory, images, and precious thoughts,
That shall not die, and cannot be destroyed.
NOTE.
_MR. GREVILLE'S CONNEXION WITH THE TURF._
Frequent references will be remarked in these volumes to the
connexion of their author with the Turf, which was his favourite
amusement, and to his position as an influential member of the
Jockey Club. It may, therefore, be worth while to record in this
place the principal incidents in his racing career; and we are
tempted, in spite of the strange and incorrect phraseology of the
writer, to borrow the following notice of them from the pages of
'Bailey's Magazine,' published soon after Mr. Greville's death:--
'Though the Warwick family have long been identified with the
sports of the field, it is fair to assume that Mr. Greville's
love for the turf came from his mother's side, as the Portlands,
especially the late Duke, have always been amongst the strongest
supporters of the national sport, and raced, as became their
position in society. That Mr. Greville took to racing early may
be imagined when we state he saw his first Derby in 1809, when
the Duke of Grafton's Pope won it, beating five others. At that
period he was barely fifteen years of age, and the impression the
sight of the race made upon him at the time was very great, and
it was rekindled more strongly when, in 1816, travelling with his
father and mother to Ickworth, the seat of the Marquis of
Bristol, he stopped at Newmarket and saw Invalid and Deceiver run
a match on the heath; and subsequently he saw a great sweepstakes
come off between Spaniard, Britannia, and Pope, which the latter
won. Four years elapse, and, as a proof that the lad we have
described had kept pace with the times, we find him selected to
manage the racing establishment of the late Duke of York, on the
death of Mr. Warwick Lake. The first step taken by Mr. Greville
on being installed in office was to weed the useless ones and the
ragged lot; and with the aid of Butler (father of the late Frank
and the present William Butler) he managed so well that in his
second year he won the Derby for him with Moses. As the Duke's
affairs at that time were in anything but a flourishing
condition, Mr. Greville did not persuade him to back his horse
for much money; still his Royal Highness won a fair stake, and
was not a little pleased at the result. He likewise carried off
the Claret with him the following year. With Banker, who was a
very useful horse at all distances, he won for him many good
races; and, by a reference to the "Calendars" of the day, it will
be seen the Duke won in his turn, if he did not carry all before
him. To reproduce the names of his horses now would not be worth
while, as from the effluxion of time the interest in them has
ceased. The first animal in the shape of a race-horse that Mr.
Greville ever possessed was a filly by Sir Harry Dimsdale, which
he trained in the Duke's stable with a few others of no great
standing.