Florence, October 23rd, 1830.
Here am I in Florence, the air warm and the sky bright; everything
is beautiful and glorious, "wo blieb die Erde," as Goethe says. I
have now received your letter of the 3rd, by which I see that you
are all well, that my anxiety was needless, that you are all going
on as usual, and thinking of me; so I feel happy again, and can
now see everything, and enjoy everything, and am able to write to
you; in short, my mind is at rest on the main point. I made my
journey here amid a thousand doubts and fears, quite uncertain
whether to go direct to Rome, because I did not expect any letters
at Florence. Fortunately, however, I decided on coming here, and
now it is of no consequence how the misunderstanding arose, that
caused me to wait for letters in Venice, while you had written to
Florence; all I can promise is to endeavour in future to be less
over-anxious. My driver pointed out a spot between the hills, on
which lay a blue mist, and said "_Ecco Firenze!_" I eagerly looked
towards the place, and saw the round dome looming out of the mist
before me, and the spacious wide valley in which the city is
situated. My love of travel revived when at last Florence appeared.
I looked at some willow-trees (as I thought) beside the road, when
the driver said, "Buon olio," and then I saw that they were hanging
full of olives.
My driver, as a genus, is undoubtedly a most villanous knave,
thief, and impostor; he has cheated me and half-starved me, and yet
I think him almost amiable from his enthusiastic animal nature.
About an hour before we arrived in Florence he said that the
beautiful scenery was now about to commence; and true it is that
the fair land of Italy does first begin then. There are villas on
every height, and decorated old walls, with sloping terraces of
roses and aloes, flowers and grapes and olive leaves, the sharp
points of cypresses, and the flat tops of pines, all sharply
defined against the sky; then handsome square faces, busy life on
the roads on every side, and at a distance in the valley, the blue
city.
So I drove confidently into Florence in my little open carriage,
and though I looked shabby and dusty, like one coming from the
Apennines, I cared little for that. I passed recklessly through all
the smart equipages from which the most refined English ladies
looked at me; while I thought it may one day actually come to pass
that you who are now looking down on the _roturier_, may shake
hands with him, the only difference being a little clean linen and
so forth. By the time that we came to the _battisterio_, I no
longer felt diffident, but gave orders to drive to the Post, and
then I was really happy, for I received three letters,--yours of
the 22nd and the 3rd, and my father's also. I was now quite
delighted, and as we drove along beside the Arno, to Schneider's
celebrated hotel, the world seemed once more a very pleasant world.
October 24th.
The Apennines are really not so beautiful as I had imagined; for
the name always suggested to me richly wooded, picturesque hills,
covered with vegetation, whereas they are merely a long chain of
melancholy bleak hills; and the little verdure there is, not
gratifying to the eye. There are no dwellings to be seen, no merry
brooks or rills; only an occasional stream, its broad bed dried up,
or a little water-channel. Add to this the shameful roguery of the
inhabitants: really, at last, I became quite confused and
perplexed, by their incessant cheating, and could scarcely discover
for what object they were lying. I therefore, once for all,
invariably protested against every demand they made, and declared
that I would not pay at all if they asked more than I chose to
give; so in this way I managed very tolerably.
Last night I was again in grand quarters: I had made an agreement
with the vetturino for board and lodging, and all I required. The
natural consequence was, that the fellow took me to the most
detestable little inns, and actually starved me. So late yesterday
we arrived at a solitary pothouse, the filth of which no pen can
describe. The stair was strewed with heaps of dead leaves and
firewood; moreover the cold was intense, and they invited me to
warm myself in the kitchen, which I agreed to do. A bench was
placed for me beside the fire; a whole troop of peasants were
standing about, also warming themselves. I looked quite regal from
my bench on the hearth among this rough set of fellows, who, in
their broad-leaved hats, lit up by the fire, and babbling in their
incomprehensible dialect, looked vastly suspicious characters. I
made them prepare my soup under my own eyes, giving moreover good
advice on the subject; but, after all, it was not eatable.
I entered into conversation with my subjects from my throne on the
hearth, and they pointed out to me a little hill in the distance
incessantly vomiting forth flames, which had a singular effect in
the dark ("Raticosa" is the name of the hill), and then I was
conducted to my bed-room. The landlord took hold of the sackcloth
sheets, and said, "Very fine linen!" but I slept as sound as a
bear, and before falling asleep I said to myself, Now you are in
the Apennines: and next morning, after getting no breakfast, my
vetturino civilly asked me how I liked my night's entertainment.
The fellow talked a great deal of nonsense about politics, and the
present state of France, abused his horse in German for being born
in Switzerland, and spoke French to the beggars who swarmed round
the cabriolet, while I corrected many a fault in his pronunciation.
October 25th.
I now intend to go once more to the Tribune, to be inspired with
feelings of reverence. There is a particular place where I like to
sit, as the little Venus de' Medici is directly opposite, and
above, that of Titian, and by turning rather to the left, I have a
view of the Madonna del Cardello, a favourite picture of mine, and
which invariably reminds me of _la belle Jardiniere_, and seems to
me a kindred creation; and also the Fornarina, which made no great
impression on me from the first, for I know the engraving, which is
very faithful, and the face has, I think, a most disagreeable and
even ordinary expression. In gazing thus, however, at the two
Venuses, their loveliness inspires a feeling of piety; it is as if
the two spirits who could produce such creations, were flying
through the hall and grasping you as they passed.
Titian must have been a marvellous man, and enjoyed his life in his
works; still the fair Medici is not to be slighted, and then the
divine Niobe with all her children: while we gaze at her, we can
find no words. I have not yet been to the Pitti Palace, which
possesses the Saint Ezekiel, and the Madonna della Sedia, of
Raphael. I saw the gardens of the palace yesterday in sunshine;
they are superb, and the thick solid stems of the myrtles and
laurels, and the innumerable cypresses, made a strange exotic
impression on me; but when I declare that I consider beeches,
limes, oaks, and firs, ten times more beautiful and picturesque, I
think I hear Hensel exclaim, "Oh, the northern bear!"
October 30th.
After the soft rain of yesterday, the air is so mild and genial,
that I am at this moment seated at the open window writing to you;
and indeed it is pleasant enough to see the people going about the
streets, offering the prettiest baskets of flowers, fresh violets,
roses, and pinks. Two days ago, being satiated with all pictures,
statues, vases, and museums, I resolved to take a long walk till
sunset; so after buying a bunch of narcissuses and heliotropes, I
went up the hill through the vineyards. It was one of the most
delightful walks I ever remember; every one must feel revived and
refreshed at the sight of nature in such a garb as this, and a
thousand happy thoughts passed through my mind.
First of all, I went to a villa called Bello Sguardo, whence the
whole of Florence and its spacious valley are to be seen, and I
thoroughly enjoyed the view of the superb city and its massive
towers and palaces. But most of all I admired the countless villas,
covering every hill and every acclivity as far as the eye can
reach, as if the city extended beyond the mountains into the far
distance. And when I took up a telescope and looked down on the
valley through the blue mists, every portion of it seemed thickly
dotted with bright objects and white villas, while such a large
circle of dwellings inspired me with a feeling of home and comfort.
I proceeded far over the hills to the highest point I could see, on
which stood an ancient tower, and when I reached it I found all the
people throughout the building busily engaged in making wine,
drying grapes, and repairing casks. It proved to be Galileo's
tower, from which he used to make his discoveries and observations;
from here also there was a very extensive view, and the girl who
took me to the roof of the tower related a number of stories in her
peculiar dialect, which I scarcely understood at all; but she
afterwards presented me with some of her sweet dried grapes, which
I ate with great gusto. And so I went on to another tower I saw at
a distance, but could not manage to find my way; and examining my
map as I went along, I stumbled on a traveller busily searching
his map also; the only difference between us being, that he was an
old Frenchman with green spectacles, who addressed me thus, "E
questo S. Miniato al Monte, Signor?" With admirable decision I
replied, "Si, Signor;" and it turned out that I was right. A. F----
immediately recurred to my memory, as she had advised me to see
this monastery, which is indeed wonderfully fine.
When I tell you I went from there to the Boboli Gardens, where I
saw the sun set, and at night enjoyed the brightest moonlight, you
may imagine how much I was invigorated by my ramble. I will write
to you about the pictures here some other time, for to-day it is
too late, as I have still to take leave of the Pitti Palace and the
great Gallery, and to gaze once more at my Venus, who is not indeed
mentioned before ladies, but whose beauty is truly divine. The
courier goes at five o'clock, and God willing, I shall be in Rome
the day after to-morrow. From thence you shall hear again.