Munich, June 14th, 1830.
My dearest Sister,
I received your letter of the 5th this morning; I see from it that
you are not yet quite well. I wish I were with you, and could see
you, and talk to you; but this is impossible, so I have written a
song for you expressive of my wishes and thoughts. You were in my
mind when I composed it, and I was in a tender mood. There is
indeed nothing very new in it. You know me well, and what I am; in
no respect am I changed, so you may smile at this and rejoice. I
could say and wish many other things for you, but none better; and
this letter too shall contain nothing else. You know that I am
always your own; and may it please God to bestow on you all that I
hope and pray.
[Music]
[Music]
[Music]
Linz, August 11th, 1830.
Dearest Mother,
"How a travelling musician bore his bad luck in Salzburg."
A fragment from the unwritten journal of Count F. M. B.
(continuation.) After I had finished my last letter to you, a
regular day of misfortunes commenced for me. I took up my pencil,
and so entirely destroyed two of my pet sketches, taken in the
Bavarian mountains, that I was obliged to tear them from my book,
and to throw them out of the window. This provoked me exceedingly;
so to divert my mind, I went to the Capuchin Hill: of course I
contrived to lose my way, and at the very moment, when I at last
found myself on the summit, it began to rain so furiously that I
was forced to run down again with all speed under the shelter of an
umbrella. Well! I resolved at all events to have a look at the
monastery at the foot of the hill, so I rang the bell, when I
suddenly recollected that I had not sufficient money to give the
monk who was to show the building, and as this is a kind of thing
that they take highly amiss, I hurried away without waiting till
the porter appeared.
I then closed my packet of letters for Leipzig, and took it myself
to the post, but there I was told, that it must first be examined
at the Custom-house; so thither I went. They kept me waiting a
whole hour, till they composed a certificate of three lines, and
behaved so saucily that I was forced to quarrel with them. Hang
Salzburg! thought I; so I ordered horses for Ischl, where I hoped
to escape from all my bad luck. No horses were to be had without a
permission from the police. I went to the police office. "No
permission can be granted till you bring your passport." Why pursue
the subject? After innumerable delays, and running about hither and
thither, the wished-for post-carriage arrived. My dinner was over,
my luggage ready, and I thought that at last all was in good train:
my bill and the servants fees were paid.
Just as I reached the door, I saw two handsome open carriages
approaching at a foot's pace, and the people of the inn hurrying to
receive the travellers, who were following on foot. I however paid
no attention to the new arrivals, but jumped into my carriage. I
observed, that at the same moment, one of the travelling carriages
drew up close to mine, and that a lady was seated in it,--but what
a lady! That you may not instantly jump to the conclusion that I
had suddenly fallen in love, which would have been the crowning
point of my unlucky day, I must tell you that she was an elderly
lady; but she looked very amiable and benevolent; she wore a black
dress, and a massive gold chain, and smiled good-humouredly when
she paid the postilion his fare. Heaven knows why I continued to
arrange my luggage instead of driving off. I did look across
continually at the other carriage, and though the lady was an
entire stranger to me I felt a strong inclination to address her.
It might be mere imagination on my part, but I do think that she
too looked at the dusty traveller in his student's cap. At length
she got out of the carriage, and stood close to the door of my
vehicle, leaning her hand on it, and I required all my knowledge of
the common proprieties of travelling, not to get out myself and say
to her, "Dear lady, what may your name be?" Routine however
conquered, and I called out with an air of dignity, "Postilion! go
on!" on which the lady quickly withdrew her hand, and we set off. I
felt in no very pleasant humour, and while thinking over the events
of the day, I fell asleep.
A carriage with two gentlemen passing us, woke me up, and the
following dialogue ensued between the postilion and myself. _I._
These gentlemen are coming from Ischl, so I shall probably find no
horses there. _He._ Oh! the two carriages that stopped at the Inn
were also from Ischl; still there is no doubt you will get horses.
_I._ Are you sure they came from Ischl? _He._ Quite sure: they go
there every year, and were here last summer also; I drove them. It
is a baroness from Vienna, (Heavens! thought I,) and she is
dreadfully rich, and has such handsome daughters. When they went to
Berchtesgaden to visit the mines, I drove them, and very nice they
looked in their miner's dresses: they have a grand estate, and yet
they speak to us quite familiarly. Halt! cried I; what name?--Don't
know.--Pereira?[4]--Not sure.--Drive back,--said I in a resolute
tone.--If I do, we shall not reach Ischl to-night, and we have got
over the worst hill; you can learn the name at the next stage.--I
hesitated, and we drove on. They did not know the name at the next
stage, nor at the following one either. At length, at the end of
seven long wearisome hours, we arrived, and before I left the
carriage, I said, who were the party who drove to Salzburg this
morning in two carriages? and received the quiet reply,--Baroness
Pereira; she proceeds to Gastein early to-morrow morning, but
returns four or five days hence. Now I had arrived at a certainty,
and I also spoke to her driver, who said that none of the family
were here. The two gentlemen I met in a carriage on the road, were
sons of the Baroness (the very two I had never seen). In addition
to all this, I remembered a wretched portrait that I had once got a
glimpse of at our aunt H----'s, and the lady in the black dress was
Baroness Pereira! Heaven knows when I may have another opportunity
of seeing her! I do not think that she ever could have made a more
pleasing impression on me, and I shall not assuredly soon forget
her attractive appearance, and her kind expression of countenance.
[4] A relation of the family.
Nothing is more unsatisfactory than a presentiment; we all
experience them, but we never discover till too late, that they
really were presentiments. I would have returned then and there,
and travelled through the night, but I reflected that I should only
overtake her at the very moment of her departure, or that possibly
she might have left Salzburg before my arrival, and that I should
thus frustrate all the plan of my journey to Vienna. At one moment
I thought of going to Gastein, but I could not help feeling that
Salzburg had treated me very badly, so I once more said adieu, and
went to bed very crest-fallen. Next morning I desired that her
empty house should be pointed out to me, and made a sketch of it
for you, dear mother. My bad luck, however, was still growling in
the distance, for I could find no favourable spot to take my sketch
from. Besides, they charged me more than a ducat at the inn for
one night's entertainment, etc., etc. I gave utterance to various
anathemas, both in English and German, and drove away, laying aside
among the things of the past, Ischl, Salzburg, Baroness Pereira,
and the Traunsee; and so I came on here, where I have taken a day's
rest.
To-morrow I intend to pursue my journey, and (D. V.) to sleep in
Vienna the day after. I will write to you further from thence. Thus
ended my day of misfortunes; "truth, and _no_ poetry," not even the
leaning the hand against the door of my carriage is invention; all
is a portrait taken from life. The most incomprehensible thing is
that I should have totally overlooked Flora, who it seems was also
there, for the old lady in a tartan cloak, who went into the inn,
was Frau von W----, and the old gentleman with green spectacles who
followed her, could not well have been Flora? In short, when things
once take a wrong turn, they will have their course. I can write no
more to-day, for my disappointment is still too recent; in my next
letter I will describe the Salzkammergut, and all the beauties of
my journey yesterday. How right Devrient was to advise me to take
this route! The Traunstein also, and the Traun Falls, are
wonderfully fine; and after all, the world is a very pleasant
world, and it is fortunate for me that you are in it, and that I
shall find letters from you the day after to-morrow, and possibly
much that is agreeable besides. Dear Fanny, I mean now to compose
my _Non nobis_, and the symphony in A minor. Dear Rebecca, if you
could hear me singing "Im warmen Thal" in a spasmodic fashion, you
would think it rather deplorable; you could sing it better. Oh,
Paul! can you declare that you understand the Schein Gulden, W. W.
Gulden, heavy Gulden, light Gulden, Conventions Gulden, and the
devil and his grandmother's Gulden? I don't, one bit. I wish
therefore that you were with me, but for many reasons besides this
one. Farewell!
Presburg, September 27th, 1830.
Dear Brother,
Peals of bells, drums and music, carriages on carriages, people
hurrying in all directions, everywhere gay crowds, such is the
general aspect around me, for to-morrow is to be the coronation of
the King, which the whole city has been expecting since yesterday,
and are now imploring that the sky may clear up, and wake bright
and cheerful, for the grand ceremony which ought to have taken
place yesterday was obliged to be deferred on account of the
torrents of rain. This afternoon the sky is blue and beautiful, and
the moon is now shining down tranquilly on the tumult of the city.
To-morrow at a very early hour the Crown Prince is to take his
oaths (as King of Hungary) in the large Market-place; he is then to
go to church in grand procession, attended by a whole array of
bishops and nobles of the realm, and afterwards rides up the
Koenigsberg, which lies opposite my windows, in order to wave his
sword towards the banks of the Danube and the four quarters of the
globe, in token that he takes possession of his new realm.
This excursion has made me acquainted with a new country; for
Hungary with her magnates, her high dignitaries, her Oriental
luxury, and also her barbarism, is to be seen here, and the streets
offer a spectacle which is to me both novel and striking. We really
seem here to approach closer to the East; the miserably obtuse
peasants or serfs; the troops of gipsies; the equipages and
retainers of the nobles overloaded with gold and gems, (for the
grandees themselves are only visible through the closed windows of
their carriages); then the singularly bold national physiognomy,
the yellow hue, the long moustaches, the soft foreign idiom--all
this makes the most motley impression in the world.
Early yesterday I went alone through the streets. First came a long
array of jovial officers, on spirited little horses; behind them a
crew of gipsies, making music; succeeded by Vienna fashionables,
with eye-glasses and kid gloves, conversing with a Capuchin monk;
then a couple of uncivilized peasants in long white coats, their
hats pressed down on their foreheads, and their straight black hair
cut even all round, (they have reddish-brown complexions, a languid
gait, and an indescribable expression of savage stupidity and
indifference); then came a couple of sharp, acute-looking students
of theology, in their long blue coats, walking arm-in-arm;
Hungarian proprietors in their dark blue national costume; court
servants; and numbers of carriages every moment arriving, covered
with mud. I followed the crowd as they slowly moved on up the hill,
and so at last I arrived at the dilapidated castle, which commands
an extensive view of the whole city and the Danube. People were
looking down on all sides from the ancient white walls, and from
the towers and balconies; in every corner boys were scribbling
their names on the walls for the benefit of posterity; in a small
chamber (perhaps once on a time a chapel, or a sleeping-apartment)
an ox was in the act of being roasted whole, and as it turned on
the spit, the people shouted with delight; a succession of cannons
bristled before the castle, destined to bellow forth their
appropriate thunders at the coronation.
Below, on the Danube, which runs very rapidly here, darting with
the speed of an arrow through the pontoon bridge, lay a new
steamer, that had just arrived, laden with strangers; then the
extensive view of the flat but wooded country, and meadows
overflowed by the Danube; of the embankments and streets swarming
with human beings, and mountains clothed with Hungarian vines--all
this was not a little strange and foreign. Then the pleasant
contrast of living in the same house with the best and most
friendly people in the world, and finding novelty doubly
interesting in their society. These were really among the happy
days, dear brother, that a kind Providence so often and so richly
bestows on me.
September 28th, one o'clock.
The King is crowned--the ceremony was wonderfully fine. How can I
even try to describe it to you? An hour hence we will all drive
back to Vienna, and thence I pursue my journey. There is a
tremendous uproar under my windows, and the Burgher-guards are
flocking together, but only for the purpose of shouting "_Vivat!_"
I pushed my way through the crowd, while our ladies saw everything
from the windows, and never can I forget the effect of all this
brilliant and almost fabulous magnificence.
In the great square of the Hospitallers the people were closely
packed together, for there the oaths were to be taken on a platform
hung with cloth; and afterwards the people were to be allowed the
privilege of tearing down the cloth for their own use; close by was
a fountain spouting red and white Hungarian wine. The grenadiers
could not keep back the people; one unlucky hackney coach that
stopped for a moment was instantly covered with men, who clambered
on the spokes of the wheels, and on the roof, and on the box,
swarming on it like ants, so that the coachman, unable to drive on
without becoming a murderer, was forced to wait quietly where he
was. When the procession arrived, which was received bare-headed, I
had the utmost difficulty in taking off my hat, and holding it
above my head; an old Hungarian, however, behind me, whose view it
intercepted, quickly devised a remedy, for without ceremony he made
a snatch at my unlucky hat, and in an instant flattened it to the
size of a cap; then they yelled as if they had all been spitted,
and fought for the cloth; in short they were a mob; but my Magyars!
the fellows look as if they were born noblemen, and privileged to
live at ease, looking very melancholy, but riding like the devil.
When the procession descended the hill, first came the court
servants, covered with embroidery, the trumpeters and kettle drums,
the heralds and all that class, and then suddenly galloped along
the street a mad Count, _en pleine carriere_, his horse plunging
and capering, and the caparisons edged with gold; the Count himself
a mass of diamonds, rare herons' plumes, and velvet embroidery
(though he had not yet assumed his state uniform, being bound to
ride so madly--Count Sandor is the name of this furious cavalier.)
He had an ivory sceptre in his hand with which he urged on his
horse, causing it each time to rear, and to make a tremendous bound
forward.
When his wild career was over, a procession of about sixty more
magnates arrived, all in the same fantastic splendour, with
handsome coloured turbans, twisted moustaches, and dark eyes. One
rode a white horse covered with a gold net; another a dark grey,
the bridle and housings studded with diamonds; then came a black
charger with purple cloth caparisons. One magnate was attired from
head to foot in sky blue, thickly embroidered with gold, a white
turban, and a long white dolman; another in cloth of gold, with a
purple dolman; each one more rich and gaudy than the other, and all
riding so boldly and fearlessly, and with such defiant gallantry,
that it was quite a pleasure to look at them. At length came the
Hungarian Guards, with Esterhazy at their head, dazzling in gems
and pearl embroidery. How can I describe the scene? You ought to
have seen the procession deploy and halt in the spacious square,
and all the jewels and bright colours, and the lofty golden mitres
of the bishops, and the crucifixes glittering in the brilliant
sunshine like a thousand stars!
Well, to-morrow, God willing, I proceed on my journey. Now, dear
brother, you have a letter, so pray write soon, and let me hear how
you are getting on. So you have had an _emeute_ in Berlin? and
that, too, an _emeute_ of tailors' apprentices? What did it all
mean? Once more I send you my farewell from Germany, my dear
parents, and brother and sisters. I am leaving Hungary for Italy,
and thence I hope to write to you more frequently and more at
leisure. Be of good cheer, dear Paul, and go forwards in a
confident spirit; rejoice with those that rejoice, and do not
forget the brother who is wandering about the world.
Yours, FELIX.
Venice, October 10th, 1830.
Italy at last! and what I have all my life considered as the
greatest possible felicity, is now begun, and I am basking in it.
The day has been so fruitful in enjoyment, that I must, now that it
is evening, endeavour to collect my thoughts a little to write to
you, my dear parents, and to thank you for having bestowed such
happiness on me. You also, my dear brother and sisters, are often
in my thoughts. How much I wish for you, Paul, to be with me here,
once more to enjoy your delight in our rapid travels by sea and by
land; and I should like to prove to you, Hensel, that the
"Assumption of the Blessed Virgin" is the most divine work ever
produced by the hands of man. You are not here, however, so I am
obliged to give vent to my enthusiasm in bad Italian to the
_laquais de place_, who stands still and listens.
I shall however become quite confused, if things are to go on as
they have done on this first day, when every hour brought with it
so much never to be forgotten, that I do not know where to find
sufficient grasp of intellect to comprehend it all properly. I saw
the "Assumption," then a whole gallery of paintings in the Manfrini
Palace; then a church festival in the church where hangs Titian's
St. Peter; afterwards St. Mark's, and in the afternoon I had a row
on the Adriatic, and visited the public gardens, where the people
lie on the grass and eat. I then returned to the Piazza of St.
Mark, where in the twilight there is always an immense crowd and
crush of people; and all this I was obliged to see to-day, because
there is so much that is novel and interesting to be seen
to-morrow.
But I must now relate methodically how I came hither by water,
(for, as Telemachus says, to do so by land would be no easy
matter,) and so I begin my history at Gratz, which is certainly the
most tiresome hole in the world, and where you yawn all day; and
why should I have stayed a single day longer, on account of a (he)
relation? How can a traveller with any experience possibly accept
of a brother, who is also an ensign, in the place of a charming
mother and sister? In short, the man did not know what to do with
me, for which I forgive him freely, and shall not defame him to his
mother, when I perform my promise and write to her; but he took me
to the theatre to see the "Rehbock," the most wretched, silly,
objectionable piece that the late Kotzebue ever wrote; and moreover
he declared it to be very good and very amusing, and this is not to
be forgiven, for this _Rehbock_ has such a _haut gout_ or _fumet_,
that it could not even please a cat: but at all events I have left
Gratz, for here I am in Venice.
My old vetturino woke me up at four o'clock in the dark, and the
horse crawled off with us both. I thought of you, dear father, at
least a hundred times during our journey of two days. You would
certainly have gone wild with impatience, and possibly assaulted
the coachman also, for at every little declivity, he got slowly off
the box, deliberately put on the drag, and crept up the smallest
hill at a snail's pace; then he thought fit to walk beside his
horses for a time, to stretch his legs: every possible conveyance
passed us on the road, even when drawn by dogs or donkeys, and when
at last, at a steep hill, the fellow put on two oxen as leaders,
whose pace exactly corresponded with that of his horse, I had the
greatest difficulty in not belabouring him, indeed I did so more
than once; but he then gravely assured me that we were going at a
capital pace, and I had no means of proving the contrary. Moreover
he always passed the night in the most detestable pot-houses,
starting again at four o'clock in the morning, so on arriving at
Klagenfurt I was fairly worn out; but when in answer to my question
as to the time the Venetian diligence set out, I received the
answer,--in an hour hence,--I seemed to revive. I was promised a
place, and I also got a good supper. The diligence, indeed, did not
arrive for two hours after its time, having been detained by deep
snow on the Soemmering, but still it came at last. Three Italians
were inside, and chattered so that I could scarcely get to sleep,
but my snoring fairly silenced them after a time.
At last morning broke, and as we drove into Resciutta, the driver
said, that on the other side of the bridge there, no one understood
a word of German. I therefore took leave of my mother tongue for a
long time to come, and we drove over the bridge. The style of the
houses immediately beyond was entirely different. The flat roofs
with their convex tiles, the deep windows, the high white walls,
and lofty square towers, all betokened another land. The pale olive
faces of the men, the innumerable beggars who besieged the
carriage, the various small chapels, brightly and carefully painted
on every side with flowers, the nuns, monks, and so forth, were all
symptomatic of Italy. The monotonous character of the whole scenery
however, and of the road we were travelling, passing through bare
white rocks, along the banks of a river with a rough rocky bed, in
summer creeping along in the form of a tiny brook, certainly does
not seem characteristic of Italy. "I purposely made this passage
rather meagre, in order that the _subject_ might be more distinctly
heard," says Abt Vogler; and I almost think that Providence has
done pretty much the same here, for when we had passed Ospedaletto
the _subject_ did come out well, and a fine sight it was. I had
imagined that the first impression of Italy would be like that of a
sudden explosion, violent and startling; I have not hitherto found
this to be the case. The effect produced on me has been rather that
of a genial warmth, mildness and cheerfulness, and an indescribable
sensation of pervading content and satisfaction.
After passing Ospedaletto we entered a plain, leaving the blue
mountains behind us; the sun shone bright and warm through the
foliage of the vines; the road winding through orchards, in which
the trees were connected by trailing boughs. I felt as if I were
at home again, and knew every object, and was once more about to
take possession of it all. The carriage too seemed to _fly_ over
the smooth road, and towards evening we arrived at Udine, where we
passed the night, when for the first time I ordered my supper in
Italian, my tongue skating as if on slippery ice, first gliding
into English, and then stumbling afresh. Moreover next morning I
was famously cheated, but I did not in the least care, and on we
went. It happened to be Sunday, and on every side people were
coming along, in bright southern costumes, and flowers; the women
with roses in their hair. Light single-horse carriages drove past,
and men were riding to church on donkeys; at the inns, groups of
idlers were to be seen in the most picturesque, indolent attitudes:
among others, one man placed his arm quietly round his wife's
waist, and swung round with her and then they went on their way;
this sounds trivial enough, and yet it had a pretty effect.
Venetian villas now were occasionally visible from the road, and by
degrees became more frequent, till at length our way led past
houses, trees, and gardens like a park. The whole country had a gay
festive air, as if a Prince were expected to make his grand entry,
and the vine-branches with their rich purple grapes hanging in
festoons from the trees, made the most lovely of all festive
wreaths. The inhabitants were all gaily dressed and adorned, and a
few scattered cypresses only enhanced the general effect.
In Treviso there was an illumination, paper lanterns suspended in
every part of the great square, and a large gaudy transparency in
the centre. Some most lovely girls were walking about, in their
long white veils and scarlet petticoats. It was quite dark when we
arrived at Mestre last night, when we got into a boat, and in a
dead calm, gently rowed across to Venice. On our passage thither,
where nothing but water is to be seen, and distant lights, we saw a
small rock which stands in the midst of the sea; on this a lamp was
burning; all the sailors took off their hats as we passed, and one
of them said, this was the "Madonna of Tempests," which are often
most dangerous and violent here. We then glided quietly into the
great city, under innumerable bridges, without sound of post-horns,
or rattling of wheels, or toll-keepers; the passage now became more
thronged, and numbers of ships were lying near; past the theatre,
where gondolas in long rows lie waiting for their masters, just as
our own carriages do at home, then into the great canal, past the
church of St. Mark, the Lions, the palace of the Doges, and the
Bridge of Sighs. The obscurity of night only enhanced my delight on
hearing the familiar names, and seeing the dark outlines.
And so I am actually in Venice! Well, to-day I have seen the finest
pictures in the world, and have at last personally made the
acquaintance of a very admirable man, whom hitherto I only knew by
name--I allude to a certain Signor Giorgione, an inimitable
artist--and also to Pordenone, who paints the most noble
portraits, both of himself and many of his simple scholars, in such
a devout, faithful, and pious spirit, that you seem to converse
with him, and to feel an affection for him. Who would not have been
confused by all this? But if I am to speak of Titian, I must do so
in a more reverent mood. Till now, I never knew that he was the
felicitous artist I have this day seen him to be. That he
thoroughly enjoyed life, in all its beauty and fulness, the picture
in Paris proves; but he has fathomed the depths of human sorrow, as
well as the joys of Heaven. His glorious "Entombment," and also the
"Assumption," fully evince this. How Mary floats on the cloud,
while a waving movement seems to pervade the whole picture; how you
see at a glance her very breathing, her awe, and piety, and in
short a thousand feelings,--all words seem poor and commonplace in
comparison! The three angels too, on the right of the picture, are
of the highest order of beauty,--pure, serene loveliness, so
unconscious, so bright and so seraphic. But no more of this! or I
must perforce become poetical, or indeed am so already, and this
does not at all suit me; but I shall certainly see it every day.
I must however say a few words about the "Entombment," as you have
the engraving. Look at it, and think of me. This picture represents
the conclusion of a great tragedy: so still, so grand, and so
acutely painful. Magdalene is supporting Mary, fearing that she
will die of anguish; she endeavours to lead her away, but looks
round herself once more, evidently wishing to imprint this
spectacle indelibly on her heart, thinking that it is for the last
time; it surpasses everything; and then the sorrowing John, who
sympathizes and suffers with Mary; and Joseph, who absorbed in his
piety, and occupied with the tomb, directs and conducts the whole;
and Christ himself, lying there so tranquil, having endured to the
end: then the blaze of brilliant colour, and the gloomy mottled
sky! It is a composition that speaks to my heart and fills me with
enthusiasm, and will never leave my memory.
I believe few things I have yet to see in Italy will affect me so
deeply; but you know that I am devoid of all prejudices, and I give
you a fresh proof of this by telling you that the "Martyrdom of St.
Peter," from which I expected the most, pleased me the least of the
three; it did not strike me as being a complete whole; the
landscape, which is very fine, seemed to me to predominate
too much. Then I was dissatisfied with the disposition in the
picture of _two_ victims and only _one_ murderer; (for the small
figure inthe distant background does not remedy this). I could
not bring myself to consider it a martyrdom. But probably I am
in error, and I intend to study it more carefully to-morrow; my
contemplation of it, besides, was disturbed by some one strumming most
sacrilegiously on the organ, and these sacred forms were forced to
listen to such miserable opera _finales_! But this matters not:
where such pictures are, I require no organist. I play the organ in
my thoughts for myself, and feel as little irritated by such trash
as I should be by an ignorant rabble. Titian, however, was a man
well adapted to improve others; so I shall try to profit by him,
and to rejoice that I am in Italy. At this moment the gondoliers
are shouting to each other, and the lights are reflected in the
depths of the waters; one is playing a guitar, and singing to it.
It is a charming night. Farewell! and think of me in every happy
hour as I do of you.