been entirely discontinued since the time of Raphael Mengs. It was
revived at Rome in 1809-10, when the late M. Bartholdy, the Prussian
consul-general, caused a saloon in his house to be painted in fresco by
Peter Cornelius, Overbeck, and Philip Veith, all German artists, then
resident at Rome. The subjects are taken from the Scriptures, and one
of the admirable cartoons of Overbeck, (Joseph sold by his brethren,) I
saw at Frankfort. These first essays are yet to be seen in Bartholdy's
house, in the Via Sistina at Rome. They are rather hard, but in a
grand style of composition. The success which attended this spirited
undertaking, excited much attention and enthusiasm, and induced the
Marchese Massimi to have his villa near the Lateran adorned in the same
style. Accordingly, he had three grand halls or saloons, painted with
subjects from Dante, Ariosto, and Tasso. The first was given to Philip
Veith, the second to Julius Schnorr, and the third to Overbeck. Veith
did not finish his work, which was afterwards terminated by Koch; the
two other painters completed their task, much to the satisfaction of the
Marchese, and to the admiration of all Rome.
But these were mere experiments--mere attempts, compared to what has
since been executed in the same style at Munich. It is true that the
art of fresco-painting had never been entirely lost. The theory of the
process was well known, and also the colours formerly used; only
practice, and the opportunity of practice, were wanting. This has been
afforded; and there is now at Munich a school of fresco painting, under
the direction of Cornelius, Julius Schnorr, and Zimmermann, in which
the mechanical process has been brought to such perfection, that the
neatness of the execution may vie with oils, and they can even cut
out a feature, and replace it if necessary. The palette has also been
augmented by the recent improvements in chemistry, which have enabled
the fresco painter to apply some most precious colours, unknown to the
ancient masters: only earths and metallic colours are used. I believe it
is universally known that the colours are applied while the plaster is
wet, and that the preparation of this plaster is a matter of much care
and nicety. A good deal of experience and manual dexterity is necessary
to enable the painter to execute with rapidity, and calculate the exact
degree of humidity in the plaster, requisite for the effect he wishes to
produce.
It has been said that fresco painting is unfitted for our climate,
damp and sea-coal fires being equally injurious; but the new method of
warming all large buildings, either by steam or heated air, obviates,
at least, _this_ objection.
_26th._--The morning was spent in the ateliers of two Bavarian sculptors,
Mayer and Bandel. To Mayer, the king has confided the decoration of
the exterior of the Pinakothek, of which he showed me the drawings and
designs. He has also executed the colossal statue of Albert Durer, in
stone, for the interior of that building.
It appears that the pediment of the Glyptothek, now vacant, will be
adorned by a group of fourteen or fifteen figures, representing all the
different processes in the art of sculpture; the modeller in clay, the
hewer of the marble, the caster in bronze, the carver in wood or ivory,
&c. all in appropriate attitudes, all colossal, and grouped into a whole.
The general design was modelled, I believe, by Eberhardt, professor
of sculpture in the academy here; and the execution of the different
figures has been given to several young sculptors, among them Mayer and
Bandel. This has produced a strong feeling of emulation. I observed that
notwithstanding the height and the situation to which they are destined,
nearly one-half of each figure being necessarily turned from the
spectator below, each statue is wrought with exceeding care, and
perfectly finished on every side. I admired the purity of the marble,
which is from the Tyrol. Mayer informs me, that about three years ago
enormous quarries of white marble were discovered in the Tyrol, to the
great satisfaction of the king, as it diminishes, by one-half, the
expense of the material. This native marble is of a dazzling whiteness,
and to be had in immense masses without flaw or speck; but the grain
is rather coarse.
More than twenty years ago, when the king of Bavaria was Prince Royal,
and could only anticipate at some distant period the execution of his
design, he projected a building, of which, at least, the name and
purpose must be known to all who have ever stepped on German ground.
This is the VALHALLA, a temple raised to the national glory, and intended
to contain the busts or statues of all the illustrious characters of
Germany, whether distinguished in literature, arts, or arms, from their
ancient hero and patriot Herman, or Arminius, down to Goethe, and those
who will succeed him. The idea was assuredly noble, and worthy of a
sovereign. The execution--never lost sight of--has been but lately
commenced. The Valhalla has been founded on a lofty cliff, which rises
above the Danube, not far from Ratisbon.[14] It will form a conspicuous
object to all who pass up and down the Danube, and the situation, nearly
in the centre of Germany, is at least well chosen. But I could hardly
express (or repress) my surprise, when I was shown the design for this
building. The first glance recalled the Theseum at Athens; and then
follows the very natural question, why should a Greek model have been
chosen for an edifice, the object, and purpose, and name of which are so
completely, essentially, exclusively gothic? What, in Heaven's name, has
the Theseum to do on the banks of the Danube? It is true that the purity
of forms in the Greek architecture, the effect of the continuous lines
and the massy Doric columns, must be grand and beautiful to the eye,
place the object where you will; and in the situation designed for it,
particularly imposing; but surely it is not appropriate;--the name,
and the form, and the purpose, are all at variance--throwing our most
cherished associations into strange confusion. Nor could the explanations
and eloquent reasoning with which my objections were met, succeed in
convincing me of the propriety of the design, while I acknowledged
its magnificence. The sculptor Mayer showed me a group of figures for
one of the pediments of this Greek Valhalla, admirably appropriate to
the purpose of the building--but not to the building itself. It represents
Herman introduced by Hermoda (or Mercury) into the Valhalla, and received
by Odin and Freya. Iduna advances to meet the hero, presenting the
apples of immortality, and one of the Vahlkuere pours out the mead, to
refresh the soul of the Einheriar.[15] To the right of this group are
several figures representing the chief epochs in the history of Germany.
This design wants unity; and it is a manifest incongruity to allude
to the introduction of Christianity, where the mythological Valhalla
forms the chief point of interest; notwithstanding, it gave me exceeding
pleasure, as furnishing an unanswerable proof of the possible application
of sculpture on a grand scale, to the forms of romantic or gothic poetry:
all the figures, the accompaniments, attributes, are strictly Teutonic;
the effect of the whole is grand and interesting; but what would it be
on a Greek temple? would it not appear misplaced and discordant?
I am informed, that of the two pediments of the Valhalla, one will be
given to Rauch of Berlin, and the other to Schwanthaler.
The sculptor Bandel, with his quick eye, his ample brow, his animated,
benevolent face, and his rapid movements, looks like what he is--a genius.
In his atelier I saw some things, just like what I see in all the ateliers
of young sculptors--cold imitations, feeble versions of mythological
subjects--but I saw some other things so fresh and beautiful in feeling,
as to impress me with a high idea of his poetical and creative power.
I longed to bring to England one or two casts of his charming Cupid
Penseroso, of which the original marble is at Hanover. There is also
a very exquisite bas-relief of Adam and Eve sleeping: the good angel
watching on one side, and the evil angel on the other. This lovely group
is the commencement of a series of bas-reliefs, designed, I believe, for
a frieze, and not yet completed, representing the four ages of the world:
the age of innocence; the heroic age, or age of physical power; the age
of poetry, and the age of philosophy. This new version of the old idea
interested me, and it is developed and treated with much grace and
originality. Bandel told us that he is just going, with his beautiful
wife and two or three little children, to settle at Carrara for a few
years. The marble quarries there are now colonised by young sculptors of
every nation.
* * * * *
The king of Bavaria has a gallery of beauties, (the portraits of some of
the most beautiful women of Germany and Italy,) which he shuts up from
the public eye, like any grand Turk--and neither bribery nor interest
can procure admission. A lovely woman, to whom I was speaking of it
yesterday, and who has been admitted in effigy into this harem, seemed
to consider the compliment rather equivocal. "Depend upon it, my dear,"
said she, "that fifty years hence we shall be all confounded together,
as the king's _very_ intimate friends; and, to tell you the truth, I am
not ambitious of the honour, more particularly as there are some of my
illustrious _companions in charms_ who are enough to throw discredit
on the whole set!"
I saw in Stieler's atelier two portraits for this collection: one, a
woman of rank--a dark beauty; the other, a servant girl here, with a
head like one of Raffaelle's angels, almost divine; she is painted
in the little filagree silver cap, the embroidered boddice, and silk
handkerchief crossed over the bosom, the costume of the women of Munich,
to which the king is extremely partial. I am assured that this young
girl, who is not more than seventeen, is as remarkable for her piety,
simplicity, and spotless reputation, as for her singular beauty. I have
seen her, and the picture merely does her justice. Several other women
of the _bourgeoisie_ have been pointed out to me as included in the
king's collection. One of these, the daughter, I believe, of an
herb-woman, is certainly one of the most exquisite creatures I ever
beheld. On the whole, I should say, that the lower orders of the people
of Munich are the handsomest race I have seen in Germany.
Stieler is the court and fashionable portrait painter here--the Sir
Thomas Lawrence of Munich--that is, in the estimation of the Germans.
He is an accomplished man, with amiable manners, and a talent for
rising in the world; or, as I heard some one call it, the organ of
_getting-oniveness_. For the elaborate finish of his portraits, for
expertness and delicacy of hand, for resemblance and exquisite drawing,
I suppose he has few equals; but he has also, in perfection, what I
consider the faulty peculiarities of the German school. Stieler's
artificial roses are _too_ natural: his caps, and embroidered scarfs,
and jewelled bracelets, are more real than the things themselves--or
seem so; for certainly I never gave to the real objects the attention
and the admiration they challenge in his pictures. The famous bunch of
grapes, which tempted the birds to peck, could be nothing compared to
the felt of Prince Charles's hat in Stieler's portrait: it actually
invites the hat-brush. Strange perversion of power in the artist!
stranger perversion of taste in those who admire it!--_Ma pazienza!_
* * * * *
The Duc de Leuchtenberg opens his small but beautiful gallery twice
a week: Mondays and Thursdays. The doors are thrown open and every
respectable person may walk in, without distinction or ceremony. It is
a delightful morning lounge; there are not more than one hundred and
fifty pictures--enough to excite and gratify, not satiate, admiration.
The first room contains a collection of paintings by modern and living
artists of France, Germany, and Italy. There is a lovely little picture
by Madame de Freyberg of the Maries at the sepulchre of Christ; and by
Heinrich Hess, a group of the three Christian graces--Faith, Hope, and
Charity, seated under the German oak, and painted with great simplicity
and sentiment; of his celebrated brother, Peter Hess, and Wagenbauer,
and Jacob Dorner, and Quaglio, there are beautiful specimens. The French
pictures did not please me: Girodet's picture of Ossian and the French
heroes is a monstrous combination of all manner of affectations.
I should not forget a fine portrait of Napoleon, by Appiani, crowned
with laurel; and another picture, which represents him throned, with all
the insignia of state and power, and supported on either side by Victory
and Peace. For a moment we pause before that proud form, to think of all
he was, all he might have been--to draw a moral from the fate of
selfishness.
He rose by blood, he built on man's distress,
And th'inheritance of desolation left
To great expecting hopes.[16]
Among the pictures of the old masters there are many fine ones, and
three or four of peculiar interest. There is the famous head by
Bronzino, generally entitled, Petrarch's Laura, but assuredly without
the slightest pretensions to authenticity. The face is that of a prim,
starched _precieuse_, to which the peculiar style of this old portrait
painter, with his literal nature, his hardness, and leaden colouring,
imparts additional coldness and rigidity.
But the finest picture in the gallery--perhaps one of the finest in the
world--is the Madonna and Child of Murillo: one of those rare productions
of mind which baffle the copyist, and defy the engraver,--which it is
worth making a pilgrimage but to gaze on. How true it is that "a thing
of beauty is a joy for ever!"
When I look at Murillo's roguish, ragged beggar-boys in the royal
gallery, and then at the Leuchtenberg gallery turn to contemplate his
Madonna and his ascending angel, both of such unearthly and inspired
beauty, a feeling of the wondrous grasp and versatility of the man's
mind almost makes me giddy.
The lithographic press of Munich is celebrated all over Europe. Aloys
Senefelder, the inventor of the art, has the direction of the works, with
a well-merited pension, and the title of Inspector of Lithography.[17]
* * * * *
The people of Munich are not only a well-dressed and well-looking, but a
social, kind-hearted race. The number of unions, or societies, instituted
for benevolent or festive purposes, is, for the size of the place,
almost incredible.[18] I had a catalogue of more than forty given to
me this morning; they are for all ranks and professions, and there is
scarcely a person in the city who is not enlisted into one or more
of these communities. Some have reading-rooms, and well-furnished
libraries, to which strangers are at once introduced, gratis; they give
balls and concerts during the winter, which not only include their own
members and their friends, but one society will sometimes invite and
entertain another.
The young artists of Munich, who constitute a numerous body, formed
themselves into an association, and gave very elegant balls and
concerts, at first among themselves and their immediate friends and
connexions; but the circle increased--these balls became more and more
splendid--even the king and the royal family frequently honoured them
with their presence. It became a point of honour to exceed in elegance
and profusion all the entertainments given by the other societies of
Munich. Every body danced, praised, and enjoyed themselves. At length it
occurred to some of the most considerate and kind-hearted of the people,
that these young men were going beyond their means to entertain their
friends and fellow-citizens. It had evidently become a matter of great
expense, and perhaps ostentation, and they resolved to put down this
competition at once. An association was formed of persons of all
classes, and they gave a fete to the painters of Munich, which eclipsed
in magnificence every thing of the kind before or since. It was a ball
and supper, on the most ample and splendid scale, and took place at the
Odeon. Each lady's ticket contained the name of the cavalier, to whose
especial protection and gallantry she was consigned for the evening; and
so much _tacte_ was shown in this arrangement, that I am told very few
were discontented with their lot. Nearly three thousand persons were
present, and it was the month of February; yet every lady on entering
the room was presented by her cavalier with a bouquet of hot-house
flowers; and the Salle de l'Odeon was adorned with a profusion of plants
and flowering shrubs, collected from all the conservatories, private and
public, within twenty miles of the capital. The king, the queen, their
family and suite, and many of the principal nobles were invited, with,
of course, a large portion of the gentry and trades-people of Munich;
but, notwithstanding the miscellaneous nature of the assemblage, and the
immense number of persons present, all was harmony, and good-breeding,
and gaiety. This fete produced the desired result; the young painters
took the hint, and though they still give balls, which are exceedingly
pleasant, they are on a more modest scale than heretofore.
The Liederkranz (literally, the circle, or garland of song) is a society
of musicians--amateurs and professors--who give concerts here, at which
the compositions of the members are occasionally performed. One of these
concerts (Fest-Production) took place this evening at the Odeon; and
having duly received, as a stranger, my ticket of invitation, I went
early with a very pleasant party.
The immense room was crowded in every part, and presented a most
brilliant spectacle, from the number of military costumes, and the
glittering head-dresses of the Munich girls. Our hosts formed the
orchestra. The king and queen had been invited, and had signified their
gracious intention of being present. The first row of seats was assigned
to them; but no other distinction was made between the royal family and
the rest of the company.
The king is generally punctual on these occasions, but from some accident
he was this evening delayed, and we had to wait his arrival about ten
minutes; the company were all assembled--servants were already parading
up and down the room with trays, heaped with ices and refreshments--the
orchestra stood up, with fiddle-sticks suspended; the chorus, with mouths
half open--and the conductor, Stuntz, brandished his roll of music. At
length a side door was thrown open: a voice announced "the king;" the
trumpets sounded a salute; and all the people rose and remained standing
until the royal guests were seated. The king entered first, the queen
hanging on his arm. The duke Bernard of Saxe-Weimar, and his duchess,[19]
followed; then the princess Matilda, leading her younger brother and
sister, prince Luitpold and the princess Adelgonde;--the former a fine
boy of about twelve years old, the latter a pretty little girl of about
seven or eight: a single lady of honour; the baron de Freyberg, as
principal equerry; the minister von Schencke, and one or two other
officers of the household were in attendance. The king bowed to the
gentlemen in the orchestra, then to the company, and in a few moments
all were seated.
The music was entirely vocal, consisting of concerted pieces only, for
three or more voices, and all were executed in perfection. I observed
several little boys and young girls, of twelve or fourteen, singing in
the chorusses, apparently much to their own satisfaction--certainly to
ours. Their voices were delicious, and perfectly well managed, and their
merry laughing faces were equally pleasant to look upon.
We had first a grand loyal anthem, composed for the occasion by Lenz,
in which the king and queen, and their children, were separately
apostrophized. Prince Maximilian, now upon his travels, and young king
Otto, "far off upon the throne of Hellas," were not forgotten; and as
the princess Matilda has lately been _verlobt_ (betrothed) to the
hereditary prince of Hesse-Darmstadt, they put the _Futur_ into a
couplet, with great effect. It seems that this marriage has been for
some time in negociation; its course did not "run quite smooth," and the
heart of the young princess is supposed to be more deeply interested in
the affair than is usual in royal alliances. She is also very generally
beloved, so that when the chorus sang,
"Hoch lebe Ludwig und Mathilde!
Ein Herz stets Brautigam und Braut!"
all eyes were turned towards her with a smiling expression of sympathy
and kindness, which really touched me. As I sat, I could only see her
side-face, which was declined. There was also an allusion to the late
king Max-Joseph, "das beste Herz," who died about five years ago, and
who appears to have been absolutely adored by his people. All this
passed off very well, and was greatly applauded. At the conclusion the
king rose from his seat, and said something courteous and good-natured
to the orchestra, and then sat down. The other pieces were by old
Schack, (the intimate friend of Mozart,) Stuntz, Chelard, and Marschner;
a drinking song by Hayden, and one of the chorusses in the _Cosi fan
Tutte_ were also introduced. The whole concluded with the "song of the
heroes in the Valhalla," composed by Stuntz.
Between the acts there was an interval of at least half an hour, during
which the queen and the princess Matilda walked up and down in front of
the orchestra, entered into conversation with the ladies who were seated
near, and those whom the rules of etiquette allowed to approach unsummoned
and pay their respects. The king, meanwhile, walked round the room
unattended, speaking to different people, and addressing the young
bourgeoises, whose looks or whose toilette pleased him, with a bow and
a smile; while they simpered and blushed, and drew themselves up when
he had passed.
As I see the king frequently, his face is familiar to me, but to-night
he looked particularly well, and had on a better coat than he usually
condescends to wear,--quite plain, however, and without any order or
decoration. He is now in his forty-seventh year, not handsome, with a
small well-formed head, an intelligent brow, and a quick penetrating
eye. His figure is slight and well-made, his movements quick, and his
manner lively--at times even abrupt and impatient. His utterance is
often so rapid as to be scarcely intelligible to those who are most
accustomed to him. I often meet him walking arm-in-arm with M. de
Schenke, M. de Klenze, and others of his friends--for apparently this
eccentric, accomplished sovereign has _friends_, though I believe he
is not so popular as his father was before him.
The queen (Theresa, princess of Saxe-Hilburghausen) has a sweet open
countenance, and a pleasing, elegant figure. The princess Matilda, who
is now nineteen, is the express image of her mother, whom she resembles
in her amiable disposition, as well as her person; her figure is very
pretty, and her deportment graceful. She looked pensive this evening,
which was attributed by the good people around me to the recent
departure of the prince of Hesse-Darmstadt, who has been here for some
time paying his court.
About ten, the concert was over. The king and queen remained a few
minutes in conversation with those around them, without displaying
any ungracious hurry to depart; and the whole scene left a pleasant
impression upon my fancy. To an English traveller in Germany nothing is
more striking than the easy familiar terms on which the sovereign and
his family mingle with the people on these and the like occasions; it
certainly would not answer in England: but as they say in this expressive
language--_Laendlich, sittlich_.[20]
_Munich, Oct. 28th, 1833._
II.
NUREMBERG.