Chapter 28
[10] It had been destroyed, but was restored by the Medici or the present family.
Much as I was charmed with the mountains, I was not sorry, for a change, to get into the rich, broad plain of Tuscany, full of vineyards and habitations along the banks of the Arno. The voice and aspect of cheerfulness is refres.h.i.+ng after a course of rugged and barren grandeur; the road is excellent and the travelling rapid. Yesterday being a holiday, and to-day Sunday, the whole population in their best dresses have been out on the road, and very good-looking they generally are. There are not more beggars than in France, and certainly a far greater appearance of prosperity throughout the north of Italy than in any part of France I have seen, although there are the same complaints of distress and poverty here that are heard both there and in England. Thorwaldsen, the sculptor, is in this inn, and the King of Bavaria left it this morning. The book of strangers is rather amusing; the entries are sometimes remarkable or ridiculous. I found 'La d.u.c.h.esse de Saint-Leu et le Prince Louis-Napoleon; Lord and Lady Shrewsbury and family; Miss Caroline Grinwell, of New York; the King of Bavaria (not down in the book though); Thorwaldsen'. Tuscany seems to be flouris.h.i.+ng and contented; the Government is absolute but mild, the Grand Duke enormously rich.
March 23rd, 1830 {p.299}
Yesterday morning breakfasted with Lord Normanby, who has got a house extending 200 feet in front, court, garden, and stables for about 280 a year, everything else cheap in proportion, and upon 2,000 a year a man may live luxuriously. His house was originally fitted up for the Pretender, and C. R.'s are still to be seen all over the place. Called on Lord Burghersh,[11] who was at breakfast--the table covered with ma.n.u.script music, a pianoforte, two fiddles, and a fiddler in the room. He was full of composition and getting up his opera of 'Phaedra' for to-morrow night. The Emba.s.sy is the seat of the Arts, for Lady Burghersh has received the gift of painting as if by inspiration, and she was in a brown robe in the midst of oils, and brushes, and canvas; and a model was in attendance, some part of whose person was to be introduced into a fancy piece. She copies pictures in the Gallery, and really extraordinarily well if it be true that till a year ago she had never had a brush in her hand, and that she is still quite ignorant of drawing.
[11] [Lord Burghersh, afterwards Earl of Westmoreland, was then British Minister at Florence.]
Went into two or three of the churches, then to the Gallery, and sat for half an hour in the Tribune, but could not work myself into a proper enthusiasm for the 'Venus,' whose head is too small and ankles too thick, but they say the more I see her the more I shall like her. I prefer the 'Wrestlers,' and the head of the 'Remontleur' is the only good _head_ I have seen, the only one with expression. 'Niobe' is fine, but I can't bear her children, except one. Then to the Casine on horseback to see the town and the world: it seems a very enjoyable place. This morning again dropped into some of the churches, after which I have always a hankering, though there is great sameness in them, but I have a childish liking for Catholic pomp. The fine things are lost amidst a heap of rubbish, but there is no lack of marble, and painting, and gilding in most of them. They are going on with the Medici Chapel, on which millions have been wasted and more is going after, for the Grand Duke is gradually finis.h.i.+ng the work.
The profusion of marble is immense, and very fine and curious if examined in detail; the precious stones are hardly seen, and when they are, not to be recognised as such. To the Pitti Palace, of which one part is under repair and not visible, but I saw most of the best pictures. I like pictures better than statues. It is a beautiful palace, and well furnished for show. n.o.body knows what Vand.y.k.e was without coming here. To the Gabinetto Fisico, and saw all the wax-works, the progress of gestation, and the representation of the plague, incomparably clever and well executed. I saw nothing disgusting in the wax-works in the museum, which many people are so squeamish about.
Before dinner yesterday called upon Thorwaldsen, who was in the inn, to tell him Lord Gower likes his 'Ganymede.' He was mighty polite, squeezed my hand, and reconducted me to my own door. At night went to the Opera and heard David and Grisi in 'Ricciardo e Zoraida.' She is like Pasta in face and figure, but much handsomer, though with less expression. She is only eighteen. He has lost much of his voice, and embroiders to make up for it, but every now and then he appears to find it again, and his taste and expression are exquisite. To-night at a child's ball at Lady Williamson's, where I was introduced to Lord Cochrane, and had a great deal of talk with him; told him I thought things would explode at last in England, which he concurred in, and seemed to like the idea of it, in which we differ, owing probably to the difference of our positions; he has nothing, and I everything, to lose by such an event.
[Page Head: FLORENCE]
March 25th, 1830 {p.301}
Went yesterday morning to Santa Croce to hear a Ma.s.s on the completion of a monument which has been erected to Dante; very crowded and the music indifferent. Afterwards to the Gallery and saw all the cabinets, but we were hurried through them too rapidly. I began to like the 'Venus' better, best of all the statues. The 'Niobe'[12] cannot have been a group, nor the children have belonged to the mother. Rode to Normanby's villa at Sesto, five miles from Florence; a large and agreeable house, gardens full of fountains, statues, busts, orange and lemon trees, shrubs and flowers. He pays 600 dollars a year for it, exclusive of the race-ground. In the evening to Burghersh's opera, which was very well performed; pretty theatre, crowded to suffocation. All the actors amateurs;[13] chorus composed of divers ladies and gentlemen of Florence, princ.i.p.ally English.
Here all the society of Florence was a.s.sembled in nearly equal proportions of Italians, English, and other foreigners. Nothing can be worse than it is, for there is no foundation of natives, and the rest are generally the refuse of Europe, people who come here from want of money or want of character. Everybody is received without reference to their conduct, past or present, with the exception, perhaps, of Englishwomen who have been divorced, whose case is too notorious to allow the English Minister's wife to present them at Court.
[12] The 'Niobe' is supposed to have been a group upon some temple [Ill.u.s.tration: Schematic of Temple Arch]
so, of which the mother was the centre figure; this makes it more probable, but the difficulty to this hypothesis is, that there do not appear to be the necessary gradations in the size or alt.i.tude of the other figures; the sons in the 'Laoc.o.o.n' are certainly little men.
[13] Phaedra Miss Williams Soprano.
Hippolytus Madame Vigano Contralto.
The Girl Madame de Bombelles Soprano.
Theseus Goretti Tenor.
Attendant Franceschini Ba.s.s.
March 26th, 1830 {p.302}
Yesterday morning to a Ma.s.s at the Annunziata, to which the Grand Duke came in state, with his family and Court. The piazza was lined with guards; seven coaches-and-six with his _guardia n.o.bile_ and running footmen; the Ma.s.s beautifully performed by his band, Tacchinardi (father of Madame Persiani, I believe) singing and Manielli directing. Then rode to Lord Cochrane's villa, where we found them under a matted tent in the garden, going to dinner. He talks of going to Algiers to see the French attack it. He has made 100,000 by the Greek bonds. It is a pity he ever got into a sc.r.a.pe; he is such a fine fellow, and so shrewd and good-humoured. To the Certosa, on a hill two miles from Florence; very large convent, formerly very rich, and had near forty monks, now reduced to seven residents, though there are a few more who belong to it, but who are absent. It is in good repair, but looks desolate. There is an old monk, Don
Returned to ride in the Corso, which is a narrow street going from the Duomo to the Annunziata, to drive up and down which is one of the ceremonies of the day (Lady Day), as the people are supposed to go and pay their respects to the Virgin. In the evening to the Opera and heard David again.
[Page Head: ROME]
Rome, March 29th, 1830 {p.303}
Set off yesterday morning at half-past seven from Florence, and arrived here at six this evening in a fine glowing sunset, straining my eyes to catch interesting objects, and trying in vain to make out the different hills. The last two days at Florence I went to the Gallery and Pitti Palace again with the Copleys. Half the rooms were shut up when I was at the Pitti before, but we now saw them all, and probably the finest collection of pictures in the world. The Raphaels, Rubens, Andrea del Sartos, and Salvators I liked the best. On Sat.u.r.day evening went to Court and was presented to the Grand Duke, who is vulgar-looking and has bad manners; but the whole thing is rather handsome. Stopped at Siena to see the cathedral; very fine, the ancient fount beautiful. The mutilated Graces I am not connoisseur enough to appreciate, but the illuminated Missals of the thirteenth century I thought admirable, both for the colouring and the drawing, and as exquisitely finished as any miniature. The entrance to Rome through the Porta del Popolo appeared very fine, but I was disappointed in the first distant view of the city from the hill above Viterbo. I pa.s.sed Radicofani in the dark, and saw little to admire in the Lake of Bolsena or the surrounding country. The women throughout Italy appeared very handsome, one quite beautiful at Siena.
March 30th, 1830 {p.303}
This morning I awoke very early, and could not rest till I had seen St. Peter's; so set off in a hackney coach, drove by the Piazza della Colonna and the Castle of St. Angelo (which burst upon me unexpectedly as I turned on the bridge), and got out as soon as St. Peter's was in sight. My first feeling was disappointment, but as I advanced towards the obelisk, with the fountains on each side, and found myself in that ocean of s.p.a.ce with all the grand objects around, delight and admiration succeeded. As I walked along the piazza and then entered the church, I felt that sort of breathless bewilderment which was produced in some degree by the first sight of the Alps. Much as I expected I was not disappointed. St. Peter's sets criticism at defiance; nor can I conceive how anybody can do anything but admire and wonder there, till time and familiarity with its glories shall have subjected the imagination to the judgment. I then came home and went with Morier to take a cursory view of the city and blunt the edge of curiosity. In about five hours I galloped over the Forum, Coliseum, Pantheon, St. John Lateran, Santa Maria Maggiore, the Vatican, and several arches and obelisks. I cannot tell which produced the greatest impression, St. Peter's or the Coliseum; but if I might only have seen one it should be the Coliseum, for there can be nothing of the same kind besides.[14]
[14] Of the same kind there is, at Pompeii, but not near so fine; more perfect as a specimen, far less beautiful as an object. And the amphitheatre at Verona, but that is very inferior.
[Page Head: SIGHTS OF ROME]
They only who have seen Rome can have an idea of the grandeur of it and of the wonders it contains, the treasures of art and the records of antiquity. Of course I had the same general idea of there being much to see that others have, but was far from being prepared for the reality, which exceeds my most sanguine expectations. The Vatican alone would require years to be examined as it deserves. It is remarkable, however, how the pleasure of the imagination arising from antiquities depends upon their accidents. The busts, statues, columns, tombs, and fragments of all sorts are heaped together in such profusion at the Vatican that the eyes ache at them, the senses are bewildered, and we regard them (with some exceptions) almost exclusively as objects of art, and do not feel the interest which, separately, they might inspire by their connection with remote ages, whereas there is scarcely one of those, if it were now to be discovered, that would not excite the greatest curiosity, and be, in the midst of the ruins to which it belongs, an object of far greater interest than a finer production which had taken its splendid but frigid position in this collection. We went to the Sistine Chapel, and saw Michael Angelo's frescoes, which Sir Joshua Reynolds says are the finest paintings in the world, and which the unlearned call great rude daubs. I do not pretend to the capacity of appreciating their merits, but was very much struck with the ease, and grace, and majesty of some of the figures; it was, however, too dark to see the 'Last Judgment.' I ended by St. Peter's again, where there were many devout Catholics praying round the illuminated tomb of the Apostle, and many foolish English poking into it to stare and ask questions, the answers to which they did not understand. I have but one fault to find, and that is with the Glory, a miserable transparency in the great window opposite the entrance, throwing a yellow light upon the Dove, which has the most paltry effect, and is utterly unworthy of the grandeur of such a place.
April 1st, 1830 {p.305}
Yesterday morning at nine o'clock went with Edward Cheney and George Hamilton to Frascati to dine with Henry Fox, who has got a villa there. As soon as we arrived Cheney and I walked over to Grotta Ferrata to see Domenichino's frescoes. The convent is about a mile and a half off, large, formerly rich, full of monks, and a fortress; also the scene of various miracles performed by St. Nilo, the founder and patron saint; now tenanted by a few beggarly friars, and part of it let to Prince Gagarin, the Russian Minister, as a villa. Domenichino sought and found an asylum there in consequence of some crime he had committed or debt he had incurred; he stayed there two years, and in return for the hospitality of the monks adorned their chapel with (some think) the finest frescoes in the world. They are splendid pictures, and all painted by his own hand.
At dinner we had Hortense, the ex-Queen of Holland, her son, Prince Louis Napoleon, her lady in waiting, Lady Sandwich and her daughter, Cheney, Hamilton, Lord Lovaine, and Fordwich. We dined in the garden, but there was too much wind for a _fete champetre_. Hortense is not near so ugly as I expected, very unaffected and gay, and gives herself no royal airs. The only difference between her and anybody else was that, after dinner, when she rose from table, her own servant presented her with a finger-gla.s.s and water, which n.o.body else had. She is called Madame.
We returned by moonlight, and though I did not go into the Coliseum, because the moon was not full enough, it looked fine, and the light s.h.i.+ning through the lower arches had a beautiful effect. This morning went a long round of sights--Caesar's Palace, of which there are no remains but fragments of walls; it really does 'grovel on earth in indistinct decay.' Caracalla's Baths, which are stupendous; the _custode_ showed us a room in which were heaped up bits of marble of all sorts and sizes, fragments of columns and friezes; and he told us that they never excavated without finding something. And t.i.tus's Baths, less magnificent but equally curious, because they contain the remains of the Golden House of Nero, on which t.i.tus built his Thermae.
The ruins are, in fact, part of the Golden House, for the Thermae have been altogether destroyed. Then to the Capitol, Forum, Temple of Vesta, Fortuna Virilis, and other places with Morier.
The Capitol contains an interesting collection of busts and statues of all the Emperors, most famous characters of ancient Rome and Greece together, with various magnificent objects of art. By dint of repeatedly seeing their effigies, one becomes acquainted with the faces of these worthies. These tastes grow upon one strangely at Rome, and there is a sort of elevation arising from this silent intercourse with the 'great of old.'
Proud names, who once the reins of empire held, In arms who triumphed, or in arts excell'd, Chiefs graced with scars, and prodigal of blood, Stern patriots who for sacred freedom stood, Just men by whom impartial laws were given, And saints who taught, and led the way to heaven.
TICKELL.
There has been a wrangle about the Borghese Gardens which the Prince ordered to be shut up; the Government remonstrated, and a correspondence ensued which ended in their being reopened to the public, whom he has no right to exclude. Paul V. gave the Borghese Gardens to his nephew (Aldobrandini) with a condition that they should always be open to the public, which they have been from then till now. They were a part of the Cenci property, which was immense, and confiscated by an enormous piece of injustice.
[Page Head: SIGHTS OF ROME]
April 3rd, 1830 {p.307}
Went on Thursday to Lady Mary Deerhurst's and the d.u.c.h.ess Torlonia's, where all the English in Rome (or rather all the most vulgar) were a.s.sembled. Yesterday morning to the Colonna Palace, Museum of the Capitol, Baths of Diocletian, now Church of Santa Maria degli Angeli, which are very remarkable because built on the baths, of which it has preserved the form; San Pietro in Vincoli, San Bernardo, all built on the site and amidst the ruins of t.i.tus's and Vespasian's Baths; in various parts the old pavement is preserved, which shows how magnificent they must have been, for it is all of giallo, verd antique, porphyry, &c. To the garden of the Maronite Convent to see the Coliseum, whence there is the finest view of it in Rome. Then to the Coliseum, and walked all over the ruins while a parcel of friars with covered faces were chanting and praying at each of the altars in succession round the circle below (called the Via Crucis).
I called yesterday morning on M. de la Ferronays, the French Amba.s.sador, who was very civil and obliging. Dined in the evening with Lord Haddington, Lovaine, Morier, Prince Gagarin the Russian Minister, Cheney, and M. Dedel. After dinner George Hamilton came in and said that Lady Northampton had died suddenly at five o'clock. I never saw her, but they say she was a very good sort of woman, and remarkably clever, which good sort of women seldom are. She had written a poem full of genius and imagination. Lord Northampton was absent at a _scavo_ he has forty miles off.
There has been no rain here for two months, and the clouds of dust are insupportable; as it is the town in Europe best supplied with water (there are three aqueducts; the ancients had sixteen) so it is the worst watered. The excavations which are going on (though languidly) are always producing something. Two busts, said to be fine, were found the day before yesterday at the Borghese Villa at Frascati.
I saw yesterday at San Pietro in Vincoli Michael Angelo's famous Moses. It may be very fine, but to my eye is merely a colossal statue; the two horns are meant to represent rays of light; but how can rays of light be represented in marble, any more than the breath? It is impossible to make marble imitate that which is impalpable. The beard is ropy and unnatural; it is, however, an imposing sort of figure. But I am more sensible to painting than to sculpture. I delight in almost everything of Domenichino's, who is only inferior (if inferior) to Raphael. As to Michael Angelo, he speaks a language the unlearned do not understand; his merit, acknowledged to be transcendent as it is by all artists, cannot be questioned; but he must serve as a model to form future excellence, and not be expected to produce present delight, except to those who, by long study, have learnt to comprehend and appreciate him.
_Evening._--This morning to the tomb of the Scipios, Catacombs, Cecilia Metella (from which I wonder they don't take the battlements), the Circus of Maxentius, Temple of Bacchus, the Fountain of Egeria, San Stefano Rotondo, Temple of Pallas, Arches of Drusus and Dollabella, and the Borghese Villa and Gardens. The ruins of the Gaetani Castle are rather picturesque, but they spoil the tomb, which would be far finer without its turrets. The Circus is as curious as anything I have seen, for it looks like a fresh ruin. Old Torlonia furbished it up at his own expense, and brought to light the inscription which proved it to be Maxentius's instead of Caracalla's Circus. The remains are so perfect that it is easy to trace the whole arrangement of the ancient games. Forsyth says very truly that the Fountain of Egeria is a mere trough; but everybody praises the water, which is delicious, and it falls with a murmur which invites to idleness and contemplation. This fountain has been beautifully sung, but it is a miserable ruin, ill deserving of such strains.
In vallum Egeriae descendimus et speluncas Dissimiles veris--quanto praestantius esset Numen aquae, viridi si margine clauderet undas Herba, nec ingenuum violarent marmora tophum.
JUVENAL.
A little wood of firs, and pines, and ilexes about thirty or forty years old is pointed out as the grove in which Numa used to meet the nymph. In all the views on one side Soracte is a striking object, as it
From out the plain Heaves like a long-swept wave about to break And on the curl hangs pausing.
I like this side of Rome, where the aqueducts stride over the Campagna, and the ruins of the mighty Claudian tower over the pigmy arches of the Pope, like the genius of ancient over that of modern Rome. The Borghese is the _beau ideal_ of a villa; lofty, s.p.a.cious apartments, adorned with statues, busts, and marbles, painting and gilding, and magnificent gardens; but deserted by its owner, who has only been there once in the last thirty years, and untenable in the summer from malaria, which is very unaccountable, for it is close to Rome, high, and full of trees; but n.o.body knows anything about the malaria. The Gardens are the fas.h.i.+onable lounge, but after June n.o.body can walk there. Though the Prince never comes here he has just bought a large piece of ground between the Porta del Popolo and the Gardens, and is making a handsome entrance, has already built gates and some ugly Egyptian imitations, and is making a waterfall. I dined with Lady William Russell, and set off to go to Queen Hortense in the evening, but found so few carriages in the court that we would not go in.
[Page Head: THE SISTINE CHAPEL]