FELIX.

Rome, November 8th, 1830.

I must now write to you of my first week in Rome; how I have

arranged my time, how I look forward to the winter, and what

impression the glorious objects by which I am surrounded have made

on me; but this is no easy task. I feel as if I were entirely

changed since I came here. Formerly when I wished to check my haste

and impatience to press forward, and to continue my journey more

rapidly, I attributed this eagerness merely to the force of habit,

but I am now fully persuaded that it arose entirely from my anxiety

to reach this goal. Now that I have at last attained it my mood is

so tranquil and joyous, and yet so earnest, that I shall not

attempt to describe it to you. What it is that thus works on me I

cannot exactly define; for the awe-inspiring Coliseum, and the

brilliant Vatican, and the genial air of spring, all contribute to

make me feel thus, and so do the kindly people, my comfortable

apartments, and everything else. At all events I am different from

what I was. I am better in health and happier than I have been for

a long time, and take delight in my work, and feel such an

inclination for it, that I expect to accomplish much more than I

anticipated; indeed, I have already done a good deal. If it pleases

Providence to grant me a continuation of this happy mood, I look

forward to the most delightful and productive winter.

Picture to yourself a small house, with two windows in front, in

the Piazza di Spagna, No. 5 which all day long enjoys the warm

sun, and an apartment on the first floor, where there is a good

Viennese grand piano: on the table are some portraits of

Palestrina, Allegri, etc., along with the scores of their works,

and a Latin psalm-book, from which I am to compose the _Non

Nobis_;--such is my present abode. The Capitol was too far away,

besides I had a great dread of the cold air, which here I have no

cause to guard against; for when I look out of my window in the

morning across the square, I see every object sharply defined in

the sunshine against the blue sky. My landlord was formerly a

captain in the French army, and his daughter has the most splendid

contralto voice I ever heard. Above me lives a Prussian captain,

with whom I talk politics,--in short, the situation is excellent.

When I come into the room early in the morning, and see the sun

shining so brightly on the breakfast-table (you see I am marred as

a poet), I feel so cheerful and comfortable, for it is now far on

in the autumn, and who in our country at this season looks for

warmth, or a bright sky, or grapes and flowers? After breakfast I

begin my work, and play, and sing, and compose till near noon. Then

Rome in all her vast dimensions lies before me like an interesting

problem to enjoy; but I go deliberately to work, daily selecting

some different object appertaining to history. One day I visit the

ruins of the ancient city; another I go to the Borghese gallery, or

to the Capitol, or St. Peter's, or the Vatican. Each day is thus

made memorable, and as I take my time, each object becomes firmly

and indelibly impressed on me. When I am occupied in the forenoon I

am willing to leave off, and should like to continue my writing,

but I say to myself that I must see the Vatican, and when I am

actually there, I equally dislike leaving it; thus each of my

occupations causes me the most genuine pleasure, and one enjoyment

follows another.

Just as Venice, with her past, reminded me of a vast monument: her

crumbling modern palaces, and the perpetual remembrance of former

splendour, causing sad and discordant sensations; so does the past

of Rome suggest the impersonation of history; her monuments elevate

the soul, inspiring solemn yet serene feelings, and it is a thought

fraught with exultation that man is capable of producing creations,

which, after the lapse of a thousand years, still renovate and

animate others. When I have fairly imprinted an object like this on

my mind, and each day a fresh one, twilight has usually arrived and

the day is over.

I then visit my friends and acquaintances, when we mutually

communicate what each has done, which means _enjoyed_ here, and are

reciprocally pleased. I have been most evenings at Bendemann's and

Huebner's, where German artists usually assemble, and I sometimes go

to Schadow's. The Abbate Santini is a valuable acquaintance for me,

as he has a very complete library of ancient Italian music, and he

kindly gives or lends me anything I like, for no one can be more

obliging. At night he makes either Ahlborn or me accompany him

home, as an Abbate being seen alone at night in the streets would

bring him into evil repute. That such youngsters as Ahlborn and I

should act as duennas to a priest of sixty is diverting enough.

The Duchess of ---- gave me a list of old music which she was

anxious to procure copies of if possible. Santini's collection

contains all this, and I am much obliged to him for having

furnished me with copies, for I am now looking through them all,

and becoming acquainted with them. I beg you will send me for him,

as a token of my gratitude, the six cantatas of Sebastian Bach,

published by Marx at Simrock's, or some of his pieces for the

organ. I should however prefer the cantatas: he already has the

"Magnificat" and the Motets, and others. He has translated the

"Singet dem Herrn ein neues Lied," and intends it to be executed at

Naples, for which he deserves a reward. I am writing to Zelter all

particulars about the Papal singers, whom I have heard three

times,--in the Quirinal, in the Monte Cavallo, and once in San

Carlo.

I look forward with delight to seeing Bunsen, we shall have much to

discuss together, and I have likewise an idea that he has got some

work for me; if I can conscientiously undertake it, I will do so

gladly, and render it all the justice in my power. Among my home

pleasures I include that of reading for the first time Goethe's

Journey to Italy; and I must avow that it is a source of great

satisfaction to me to find that he arrived in Rome the very same

day that I did; that he also went first to the Quirinal, and heard

a Requiem there; that he was seized with the same fit of impatience

in Florence and Bologna; and felt the same tranquil, or as he calls

it, solid spirit here: indeed, everything that he describes, I

exactly experience myself, so I am pleased.

He speaks in detail of a large picture of Titian's in the Vatican,

and declares that its meaning is not to be devised; only a number

of figures standing beautifully grouped together. I fancy, however,

that I have discovered a very deep sense in it, and I believe that

whoever finds the most beauties in Titian, is sure to be most in

the right, for he was a glorious man. Though he has not had the

opportunity of displaying and diffusing his genius here, as Raphael

has done in the Vatican, still I can never forget his three

pictures in Venice, and to these I may add the one in the Vatican,

which I saw for the first time this morning. If any one could come

into the world with full consciousness, every object around would

smile on him with the same vivid life and animation, that these

pictures do on us. "The School of Athens," and the "Disputa," and

the "Peter," stand before us precisely as they were created; and

then the entrance through splendid open arches, whence you can see

the Piazza of St. Peter's, and Rome, and the blue Alban hills; and

above our heads figures from the Old Testament, and a thousand

bright little angels, and arabesques of fruit, and garlands of

flowers; and then on to the gallery!

You may well be proud, dear Hensel, for your copy of the

"Transfiguration" is superb! The pleasing emotion which seizes me,

when I see for the first time some immortal work, and the pervading

idea and chief impression it inspires, I did not experience on this

occasion from the original, but from _your_ copy. The first effect

of this picture to-day, was precisely the same that yours had

previously made on me; and it was not till after considerable

research and contemplation that I succeeded in finding out anything

new to me. On the other hand, the Madonna di Foligno dawned on me

in the whole splendour of her loveliness. I have passed a happy

morning in the midst of all these glorious works; as yet I have not

visited the statues, but have reserved my first impression of them

for another day.

November 9th, morning.

Thus every morning brings me fresh anticipations, and every day

fulfils them. The sun is again shining on my breakfast-table and I

am now going to my daily work. I will send you, dear Fanny, by the

first opportunity, what I composed in Vienna, and anything else

that may be finished, and my sketch-book to Rebecca; but I am far

from being pleased with it this time, so I intend to study

attentively the sketches of the landscape painters here, in order

to acquire if possible a new manner. I tried to produce one of my

own, but it would not do!

To-day I am going to the Lateran, and the ruins of ancient Rome;

and in the evening to a kind English family, whose acquaintance I

made here. Pray send me a good many letters of introduction. I am

exceedingly anxious to know numbers of people, especially Italians.

So I live on happily, and think of you in every pleasant moment.

May you also be happy, and rejoice with me at the prospect which

lies before me here!