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This text was translated

and graciously contributed

to the Sophie Library

by

Richard P. Stebbins, Ph..

This text is copyrighted material, and is used by written permission of the author. Fair usage laws apply.

© 2005 i

BRUN95FM

ROMAN DIARY (Tagebuch über Rom) by

FRIEDERIKE BRUN

with Engravings (mit Kupfern)

[Volume One]

Zurich Orell, Fiissli und Compagnie 1800

Flyleaf: AUSZÜGE aus einem Tagebuche ROM In d. . 1795 und 1796

(Extracts from a Diary about in the years 1795 and 1796) ii

Translator ' Preface There follows a translation into English of Friederike Brun's two-volume Tagebuch fiber Rom (Roman Diary) of 1795-96, published in the German language in in 1800-01 and here rendered into English from facsimile pages made available by the British Library in London. To facilitate reference to the German-language original, its page numbers are repeated in bold-face type at the proper points in the English translation. AS a general rule, the original text has been followed without significant deviation, although some overly lengthy paragraphs have been divided in the interests of readability. Proper names, though in most cases typographically highlighted in the original, are generally printed in regular type, and their spelling has been regularized to some extent and occasionally supplemented by the insertion of alternative names more familiar to readers of English. Footnotes are those of the original author unless otherwise indicated

The Tables of Contents of the two translated volumes are placed at the beginning rather than the end of the respective volumes, and the "errata" list at the end of the German edition has been omitted since the necessary corrections, where relevant, have been made directly in the English text. A comprehensive index to the two volumes, usable with either the English or the German text, has been prepared as a separate document. The translator and all readers of the English edition owe a debt of gratitude to Margot . Arnold for her careful and knowledgeable assistance in reviewing and correcting the translation. To assist the reader unfamiliar with the background of these volumes, Friederike Brun's text is preceded by a brief biographical sketch from a German Damen-Conversations-Lexikon or Ladies' Encyclopedia of the 1830s. It may also be useful to indicate here the reasons for Friederike Brun's presence in in 1795-96, a time when life in the peninsula was being increasingly disrupted by the military incursions of revolutionary , a projection of its incipient life-and-death struggle against the conservative monarchies of Austria and other European powers.

The southward journey of the thirty-year-old, German-born and Danish-nurtured poetess - the daughter and sister of Lutheran bishops, and wife of a prominent Danish magnate--- had, however, nothing to do with international wars and politics. Motivated primarily by serious medical problems that were thought to necessitate a change of climate, it also beckoned with a more cosmopolitan intellectual life than was available in in those early years of the Romantic era.

Accompanied by Carl and Charlotte, the eldest of her four children, and a limited number of servants, Friederike devoted the summer of 1795 to a leisurely progress through and Switzerland. Amid flattering contacts with publishers and poets - one of whom dubbed her "the Northern Sappho" -- she entered also upon a romantic friendship with a highborn, somewhat older woman, the Princess Luise of Anhalt-Dessau, who was traveling with her secretary, the poet Friedrich von Mathisson, on a sentimental pilgrimage to Italy and Rome. As a romantic prologue to the Italian journey, there took place a kind of shared villeggiatura on the shores of Lake Como in Italian Switzerland, its participants consisting of Friederike Brun with her children; Princess Luise and her poet; and Friederike's mend Karl Viktor von Bonstetten, an aging Swiss man of letters with whom she had become acquainted on a previous iii

journey. 1

In the volumes devoted to her sojourn in Rome and southern Italy, Friederike tells of further meetings with the German Princess and her poetic traveling companion, whose identities are easily recognized under the half-hearted disguises she gives them. Among the other notabilities with whom she became closely acquainted during her first year ofItalian travel, special mention should perhaps be made of Georg (or JOrgen) Zoega (1755-1809), a Danish antiquarian and archaeologist who became almost a member of the Brun family group -- and whose professional opinions she came to value no less intensely than his personal character. The deepening of their acquaintance is a recurrent theme both here and in Friederike's later book, Romisches Leben (Roman Life), published many years after Zoega's death.2 Other '"dear friends," like "Hirt the artistic antiquarian" and "Fernow the philosophical esthete," together with artists of renown like Angelica Kaufinann, Antonio Canova, and Wilhelm Tischbein, appear and disappear in a narrative as fresh and sparkling as the time it was written. In conclusion it may be remarked that Friederike's text, though nominally based on diary entries, shows ample evidence of having been drawn largely from "letters home" - particulary those written to her brother, Friedrich Munter, who succeeded their father, Balthasar Munter, as Lutheran Bishop of Zealand.

Richard Poate Stebbins, Translator

lFor details see Renato Martinoni (editor), Il Paradiso di Saffo: Diario del viaggio di una poetessa del Nord nella Svizzera italiana del Settee en to (Balerna, Swizerland: Edizioni Ulivo, 1998).

2Romisehes Leben von Friederike Brun, geborene Munter. Leipzig: .A. Brockhaus, 1833. iv

Article from the Damen Conversations-Lexiko~ 1834-18383 Friederike '8 dates:

Born June 3,1765 in Grafentonna, , Germany Died 25, 1835 in Copenhagen, Among those of Germany's female writers in whom a noble femininity is united with the gifts of the , we may with full justification include also Friederike Brun. By birth she belongs to Saxony, although, having been transplanted to Denmark while still at her mother's breast, she began her earliest development and struck the real roots of her being in that country. Her father, who was very highly regarded as both man and scholar, was Balthasar MOnter, Suerintendent at Grafentonna in the Duchy of Gotha. Called to Copenhagen as pastor of the German congregation there, he took up this honorable appointment as soon as his wife could safely undertake the long journey after the birth of Friederike on June 3, 1765. Friederike, when she left Saxony, was not yet quite five weeks old.

In Copenhagen, where it was soon realized how well the choice of such a pastor had been justified - and where Balthasar MOnter, honored and loved by high and low, soon succeeded to the highest place of spiritual honor in Denmark, being named bishop of Zealand - the young Friederike found ample opportunities for her cultural development An inclination to poetry manifested itself in her at an early age, making itself involuntarily apparent through the gentle tones of song, in which her innermost feelings found expression. A country residence of her father became for her a . Here, left much to herself and far from the noises of the city and its disturbances, she attached herself to nature as to a motherly friend who became her teacher and confidante, and on whose bosom she breathed out her first tentative songs in trusted secrecy. Even in later years, even now in the twilight of life, Friederike gladly thinks of that time, and of the loneliness in which she then dreamed and poetized.

Her heart, so receptive to friendship, formed a lasting alliance with the poet brothers Stolberg and the families ofBernstorff, Reventlow and Schimmelmann. Particularly finn was the bond of purest inclination between her and Charlotte, Countess of Bernstorff (now the widowed Countess ofDernath). Her education was simple, her instruction was not pedantically driven, and did not by any means exclude those subordinate arts of housekeeping, and that economic activity, which the future status as housewife demanded of her, and for which she, side by side with the most lively striving toward higher things, showed a pleasure reflecting her sure tact regarding a future necessity.

She read with the greatest curiosity, and since she was given only good things to read, and her good father then talked with her about her reading, directed her attention to its essential

3Published in collaboration with scholars and female writers by Carl Herlosssohn, 1834-38; second, unaltered edition, Adorf: Verlags-Bureau, 1846, vol. 2, pp. 206ff. German text from Internet (Http://www.wortblume.de/dichterinnen/dclbrun.htm); English text and paragraph divisions by the translator. features, corrected her variable judgment, and sought to determine and form her taste, though gently and scarcely noticeably to herself, such reading was the best guidepost for her in the field of knowledge. In her sixteenth year she undertook with her parents a trip to Gotha, where she made the acquaintance of men like Klopstock, Gerstenberg, Claudius, Jerusalem, Herder and many others. In the following year she was married to the present royal Conference Counselor Constantin Bmn, who earlier lived as Danish Consul in St. Petersburg, and is now Director of the West Indian Company in Copenhagen. She bore him five children, of whom one son died; the other, however, together with three daughters, is happily married.

When not yet twenty-four years old, Friederike had the misfortune, on one sharp winter's night, to lose her hearing for life. She bore this loss with rare fortitude, and if the outer world fell silent for her, all the more powerfully did the lute of poesy assert itself within her.4 In 1791 Friederike accompanied her husband on a trip via Paris through southern France to Geneva. In Lyon she met Matthisson for the first time; in Geneva, Bonstetten. She became an intimate friend of both men, and carried on a lively correspondence with them.

The birth of her last daughter, Ida" was followed by a succession of weaknesses and nervous disorders, aggravated by the sharp climate of her place of residence. To this was added the early death of her indescribably loved father, whose life ended at that time in his fifty-ninth year. Sick in body and , she would have succumbed to physical ills, and to her deep grief over this loss, had she not followed the fortunate advice of a doctor that she undertake a journey to the south.

Accompanied by her two oldest children, she left in the spring of 1795, was so fortunate as to meet in Lugano the most excellent Princess of Anhalt-Dessau, who, in company with Matthisson, had a similar aim, and went with them to Rome, where she spent the winter. But it was only in the summer of 1796 that Friederike secured a moderation of her sufferings through the sulfur baths of Ischia. Her life thereafter was a constant struggle between the rigors of the northern latitude, which she had several times to abandon as an essential condition of her survival, in order to revive again in the south. Of the ripely successful intellectual ftuits which she harvested in Italy and Switzerland, and in the educational contact with Zoega, Fernow, Johann von Muller, Necker and his genius of a daughter Anna Germaine de Stael, Humboldt, Sismondi, and many others, her writings give ample witness. From her poems emanates the glow of a pure enthusiasm as well as the deep, mild, and yet lively feeling which characterizes them. Too, they are not just lyrical euphony, but richly and seriously equipped with thoughts which certifY to us the quality of her intellect. But what ranks them higher in life than the talent which nature lent her as a dowry, is dependability of character, truth of heart, sympathy for others' welfare and trouble, and a goodness which - although frequently deceived and misapprehended - never tires of asserting itself again where it can operate and help. And though, therefore, many a leaf from the rich wreath of her friends has already dried up and fallen away, she will never stand alone, for love and thankfulness surround her old age, which even the winter of life is unable to defoliate.

4The reader will readily perceive that Friederike's deafness was a minor handicap rather than a full-blown disability. (Translator.) vi

CONTENTS OF VOLUME I

I. (November 13-17, 1795) Dedication. Villa Borghese. Campo Vaccino. Angelica Kauffmann. St. Giovanni a Laterano. Coliseum. . Ruins of the Imperial . Sunset from before the Church of Pietro Montorio. St. Paul's Church. The Capitol (Campidoglio). German pp. 1-26; English pp. 1-6.

II.

(November 19-22, 1795)

Villa Madama. Villa Millini. The Vatican. Belvedere; first visit. Capitoline; second visit. Excursion out through the . Sacred Mount. Anio. Pons Nomentanus. Aqueduct ofM. Agrippa.. Sarpentara. Collatia. German pp. 27-42; English pp. 6-11.

III. (Novenlber22-27,1795) Villa Ludovisi. Capitoline, third visit. Villa Ludovisi; second visit. View from the balcony of the Casino Ludovisi. Museum Qabinum in the Villa Borghese. Belvedere; second visit. Capitoline; third visit. Coliseum. Sunset from the Casino Ludovisi. German pp. 43-72; English pp. 11-19. IV. (Novenlber 28-31 (sic], 1795)

Promenade in the Villa Pamphili. Large Casino of the Villa Borghese. of the Conservatori. Villa Mattei. Music in the Church ofSt. Andrea de1la Valle. German pp. 73-87; English pp. 19-23.

V. (Decenlberl-18,1795) Giustiniani Palace. . Spring ofJuturna. . Priorate of Malta. Pyramid ofCestius. Roman Catacombs. Circus ofCaracalla. : Continuation ofthe Circus. Grotto ofEgeria. Italian Hill. Villa Agnani (now Brunati). Baths of the Empresses. Church of Pietro in Vincolis; Michael Angelo's Moses; antique columns. Again the Palatine Hill, and Baths of the Empresses, specifically Bath of Julia. Description of the Library of Terence. Northern side of the Palatine. Villa Mattei. View from the steps of the Lateran. German pp. 88-122; English pp. 24-33. vii

VI. (December 19-29, 1795) Promenade in modern Rome; mixed observations. Villa Albani: Albani Palace. Winckelmann's Antinous; great room of Mengs; view from the balcony of the Villa Albani. Visit to the Villa Ludovisi. The Colossi in Moonlight. Interment of Cardinal Spinelli. Churches: Madonna di Loreto; Chiesa Giesu; Maria sopra Minerva; Coeli. Palazzo RuspigIiosi; Guido's Aurora; Bust of Scipio Africanus. High Mass in St. Peter's. Christmas Eve performance in Francesco a Ripa. The Farnesina. Cloister of8t. Onofrio. The Vatican: Raphael's Stanze. Promenade to Aqua Santa. Villa Giustiniani. Pleasure ride from Ponte Molle to . German pp. 123-153; English pp. 34-42. VII. (December 30-31, 1795)

Trip to Tivoli. Solfatara. Ponte Mamole. Tomb ofPlautius; Villa Hadriana. Substructures of the Villa of Cassius and Brutus. Tivoli: House of Francesco. Pleasure ride in Tibur; extensive view; ruins ofthe villa ofVams; view of the Cascades; ride along the Anio; Temple of the World; Villa of Maecenas; Villa d'Este. Return to Rome. German pp. 154-180; English pp. 44-52. VllI. (January 2-18, 1796)

Sistine Chapel. . Rondinini Palace. Vatican: Raphael's Loggie and Stanze. Villa Millini. Landscapist Reinhardt. Monuments in 8t. Peter's. New Madonna. Observations on the way home. Artists' studios: Canova; Trippel; Schmidt; Busch. Villa Mattei. Festival of. Saint Anthony. Casino Corsini. German pp. 181-219; English pp. 53- 63.

IX. (January 19-31, 1796) Visits to artists: Hudson, Dear. Theater della Valle. Excursion to the Spring of Egeria. . Villa Doria. Gem intaglios and antiques of the banker Jenkins. Argentina Theater. Session of the Arcadians; improviser Bandettini. . Afternoon, evening and moonlight excursion. Bosco di Medici. Tyge Rothe. Palatine; nature paintings. Painting Gallery of the Borghese Palace. Beginning of the Carnival. German pp. 220-259; English pp. 64-74. (February 4-19, 1796)

Carnival scene. Farnese Palace. Promenade along the Tiber. The Corso. The Antonine Column. Spring in the Villa Pamphili. Last evening of the Carnival. The Spanish Square, which we are leaving. Professor Hetsch from Stuttgart. Our new dwelling. Continuation of our visits to artists: Professor Carstens from Schleswig; Woutky's volcanoes. The . Tarpeian Rock. View of old Rome. Villa Aldovrandini. Church of St. Gregorio Magno; painting of Annibale Carraccio. Side chapel ofSt. Sylvia; Gloria of Guido. 8t. Peter's Church. Villa Albani. Church paintings: Francesco it Ripa; Maria Trastevere; Gregorio Magno viii again. Promenade from Ponte Molle to Aqua Gettosa. German pp. 260-308; English pp. 75-87.

XI. (February 20-29, 1796) Rooms of Prince Aldovrandini in the Borghese Palace. View from the roof of the palace. Pietro Montorio; Raphael's Transfiguration. Life in Rome. Unsuccessful trip to . Church of St. Agnes fuor Ie Mure; sarcophagus of the child. Tomb of St. Constantia. View from the ViJla Braschi. Restorer Albergini. Antiquities of the Farnese Palace. Church of St. 19nazio; decoration of the wells. Vatican; Raphael's Stanze. Trasteverinera. Campo Vaccino. Ganganelli. Academy of St. Luke; Raphael's skull. Villa Ludovisi. ViJla Magnani. Friendly concert. German pp. 309-337; English pp. 88-95.

XII. (March 1-16, 1796.)

Ruspoli Palace; group of the Graces. Spada Palace; statue of Pompey; Dido of Guercino. Darmstadt historical and landscape painter Schmidt; his dying Cleopatra. Bad weather in Rome. Cavaceppi. St. Peter's; paintings. Capuchin sermon in the Lateran. Villa Pamphili. Gems and intaglios of Count *****. Visit to the tomb of the Naso family. Rome's Botanical Garden. Torre dei Schiavi, or old Rome. Aqua Gettosa and Villa Poniatowsky. Villa Lepri. Courtyard of the Belvedere. German pp. 338-371; English pp. 96-105. XIII. (March 1796.)

Second trip to Tivoli. View from the Chapel before the gate. Sunset. Morning prayers above the Cascade and before the Temple of Vesta. Ride around the valley. View from the Hill of Varus. Gorge of the Cascades. The tuff-stone hollows. Maecenas' villa. The little meadows between the Cascades. German pp. 372-385; English pp. 106-109.

XIV. (March 20-24, 1796) Holy Week Missed distribution of palms from the . Barberini Palace. Flemish landscape painter Denis. Miserere in the Sistine Chapel. Green (Holy) Thursday; great Benediction from the loge ofSt Peter's Church; music in the Chapel of the Canonici; dusk in St. Peter's; recollections of yesterday's Miserere. Illumination of the crossing ofSt. Peter's. German pp. 386-405; English pp. 110 115. ROMAN DIARY, I 1

BRUN95-I,II,III,IV. Page numbers of the original (German) edition are shown in brackets throughout the translated text.

[p.5] L (November 13-17, 1795).

Rome, November 13, 1795.

(p. 5] I give you only single tones! My feelings, thoughts, recollection and presence affect me too strongly to be capable of any detail; and only single tones become harmony for that person who knows the whole range of the lightly responsive aeolian harp! And so let every stammering sound be dedicated to you, oh trusted Genius of my life! You, who is [sic) ever equally close to me, on the cold shores of the home island, on the summits ofthe Alps, or among the ruins of Rome!

Villa Borghese.

It was the most beautiful morning, and I felt myself wholly beneath Italy's . This villa [p. 6] is drenched in noble Elysian charm. Group stands against friendly group; the dark prickly oak (Stecheiche) shelters the tender weeping willow (I'hriinenweide), as it trails its saturated locks in the mirroring pond of the Temple of Aesculapius. Round hiHs surge up and down, pines thrust lightly woven green umbrellas against the blue heaven. Artists work in the open air, taking uom the inexhaustible treasury of pleasant outlines and shadowy places the foregrounds, backgrounds and often the whole scene of their paintings. Splendid, from the very entrance into this enchanting garden, the view over Rome to the J aniculus and Monte Mario; and noble, from the other side of the villa, is the view back over the governed lowlands, as far as the Soractes and the snow-covered spine of the Sabina.

Campo Vaccino, or Forum Romanum. It was with a restrained tremor that I walked upon the hallowed [p. 7J ground and looked, with sensations that had no parallel, on ruins heaped upon ruins, and on the afterworld as it trampled upon the ancient times. It would have been impossible for me to speak aloud, lest I disturb the hallowed shades as they gently fluttered about us! This which I scarcely dared to tread upon--that distance, dominated by the ; the closeness of the Palatine and Capitoline hills--as yet I have climbed none of them! These mighty chambers of the Temple of Peace, and the massive walls of the Coliseum! Farewell for today! I flee from you and from myself!

November 14. Angelika Kaufmann.

She came in the morning, graciously anticipating my call. A woman between fifty and fifty-four. The gentlest femininity, and a well-bred reserve (ein hoJdes in sich Geschmiegtseyn) characterize this noble artist. Her voice is the loveliest organ of a tenderly sensitive [p. 8] soul, which, like a faithful echo, gives back every related tone. Very beautiful is her quietly shining eye, whose lingering look mirrors her artist's mind like the evening glow upon a watery surface. With this eye she, as it were, encircles with grace each object on which it rests. ROMAN DIARY, I 2 St. John Lateran. This mother of churches is great and beautifully decorated~ without being overloaded. In this attractive temple there stands an antique porphyry sarcophagus, which, I was told, 1 once held the bones of Marcus Agrippa, but 'was removed from the Pantheon, which that great man built, and placed here, where it contains the remains of a of the Corsini family. The view from the steps in front of the church is delightful. To the right lies Frascati on the slopes of the Alban Hills. A lower interval with a wide view between [p. 9] the Alban and Sabine hills, the land of the ancient V olsci and Aequi; Praeneste, now Palestrina, in the valley, then the Sabine country. the snow ridge of its hills, and the white gleaming Tibur positioned on the foothills; the aqueduct splendidly drawn across the plain to the mountains. Closer, on the right, the round Mausoleum of [Cecilia] Metella.

The Coliseum ().

Yesterday I inspected it only from the outside. Today I ventured into the arena. Picturesque sections of the hanging and often literally suspended ~walls, a fine blue sky glimmering through the chambers; a wealth of green encompassing these walls and growing down into the inner rooms. Laurel and fig trees often split the stones with their stubborn roots. Ivy and jasmine proliferate and seem to enshroud the collapsing monument of greatness with the tender bonds of Nature, and [p. 10] to hold them together anew. When you walk into the shady side of the building, its dark immensity makes you shudder in perceiving how the mighty rotundity encompasses the airy space, as your measuring gaze moves upward from the ruined basement to the completed height.

Palatine HilL Ruins of the Imperial Palaces. Here a new old world was opened to me! We went up alongside the Arch offitus, from the depth of these ruins, where one skirts the substructures in deep shadow, upon old walls; where the Faroese Palaces and Gardens, now once again dilapidated, mourn over the sunken remains; where I look down into the old, sacred Forum, and where, with a deep tone of melancholy, the soul encompasses everything, where from the Baths of Titus, standing torn apart in gigantic separated masses, over the Esquiline, the Palatine, as far as the Aventine, everything is a monstrous rubbish heap, [p.l1] on which the present Roman world SV\larms like confused ants -- where the Coliseum, the Arches of Constantine and Titus stand venerably-- where over there the two pillars of Remus and Romulus, and here the Lake of Curti us, and the three columns of Jupiter Stator place me in Rome's , while you, ye three majestic columns of Jupiter Tonans, and the Arch of Septimius Severns, drag me this way and that, from Rome's cradle to its grave; -- Ah! be greeted with joy, fair pillars of the Temple of Concord! In your neighborhood my spirit lingers with love, remembering high Camillus and the finest times of Rome!

Fair is the view beneath the shadow of the dark walls and chambers, overgrown with lush vegetation, across the Tiber and up to the Janiculum, which lies there so quietly, still clothed in fresh green in this late season. and strewn with villas. There on the first step upward lie the Church [p. 12] of Pietro Montorio, and Rafael's Transfiguration! There on the farthest height, the Villa Mellini, whose cypresses fill my heart with longing; far off and airily the pines of Villa Corsini struggle into pure air! -- But ever and again, it is the Capitoline Hill that draws my

lFriend Hirt later told me that this was uncertain. ROMAN DIARY, I 3 gaze. It is so close to me ! Yet still an inward tremor holds me back from the Capitol! I fear my own emotion, when I go that way, trodden by the Catos, the Brutuses, and the Scipios. -- Ah, you know this heart, which so often succumbs to the full-streaming source of its feelings! We climbed up from the first terrace, beside the plashing fountains overgrown with wallflowers (1 Mauerraute) and Adiantum, and I found myself under a shelter of thickly twined evergreen oak and carob treetops, as in a dusky grotto. The ground is covered with fragments of column bases, capitals, cornices and architraves. On one column's base lies an [p. 13] architrave as a table; eight or ten capitals stand around like seats; everything is still, and only the marble speaks! Beneath the trailing branches of the oaks, one looks down onto the Campo Vaccino, and thence over the Tiber. What a place! And what a longing springs from an exalted feeling for all that is akin to our soul! Sunset from the Terrace of the Church of Pietro Montorio. The first sunset over Rome, spread out at my feet! I was scarcely aware of my own existence, as my soaring spirit modestly traversed the span of time compressed between the Palatine, Capitoline and Aventine hills and the high cross of St Peter's dome, sailing across the airy vault encompassing the inexhaustible plenitude of that which was and is! Monte Cavo loomed out of the clouds like a prehistoric Ossianic shape, and its crown, [p. 14] bearing the high fortress of the alliance god, was drenched in the evening purple! F:rascati's white houses glowed on the hillside. Albano lay in distant haze. On the other side, Tivoli stepped f'Orth on its hill- foot, the stood dark blue, as did the son of the plain, the jagged Soracte. There, next to the green , stands the gray pyramid ofCestius, where the high Luise and M[ atthisso], though undiscovered by our telescope, are wandering today; f'Or we often go each his own way, then again join forces unconstrainedly, and fly about like bees in the meadows of art and history as long as daylight shines. But in the evening we reassemble and make our contributions to the records of remembrance and friendship. I still am sweeping in great arcs, like a modest bird, around Rome's outlines. Everything is still undeveloped feeling. Little by little I shall try to make my circles narrower.

[p. 15] November 15. St. Paul's Church (St. Paul's Outside the Walls)

The way thither through Rome is most interesting; under the Portico of Octavia, which now stands amidst the abominations of the fish market and the butchers' benches, then between the double and the Vesta Temple to the Tiber, past the white marble ruins of the Pons Consularis (now Ponte Rotta). There, perhaps, from the nearby temple the Vestals wandered over the stream! This is also the place where Horatius Cocles detended the bridge against the Tarquins, and the holy Tiber reverently bore the victorious armed warrior to the shore! Then one drives on the other side of the Palatine, under the gigantic ruins, between it and the Aventine, to the old city wall of Aurelian, whic~ with its patched-up Gothic pinnacles, forms a glaring contrast to the high and solemn , pressing triumphantly forward out of the barbaric [p. 16] enclosing wall as an indestructible symbol of endurance! There it stands, undamaged by the elements, and only the friendly life of the vegetation emanates from the white, picturesquely graying marble. Only I do fear the conjunction of the marble blocks and the wild fig tree, this stone-splitter, whose leafless branches I saw above. Now, straight ahead to St. Paul's! Lonely lies the venerable gray basilica, and one is involuntarily hushed on entering it! Cold drafts blow upon you from the wide interior, and seem ROMAN DIARY, I 4 to ventilate the lofty grove of columns! One hundred and twenty antique columns stand here; but since I was alone today, I cannot give you the names and nationality of these beautiful foreigners. Egyptian granite shines through the softly melting colors of the original material. Porphyry pillars sustain the altars; twenty-four mighty marble columns stand, twelve on each side of the long nave. Seven tremendous Dorian ones, of different thicknesses and [p. 17] material, separate the actual nave from the longer part of the church. So much magnificence without trivial decoration, so much unity for me spells genuine church style! Yet the intimidating majesty of this temple was for me too overpowering, and indeed I must altogether complain to you! Rome tunes the melancholy timbre of my heartstrings to the deepest sadness! Leaning against one of these Greek columns, I felt as though the heart in my breast were gushing forth! Yet can it be otherwise, here where there is no present time, and only the past speaks? Still, I promise you to arm myself as well as I can. St. Peter's Church.

At the beginning of dusk, when only the immense yet enclosed space still hung about the colossal masses, the worldts greatest building appeared to me in high magnificence. As though half extinguished, the hundred silver lamps flickered over the grave of the [p. 18] Apostles, through the aroma of the incense. I advanced, and advanced, and stood still, measuring the distance before and behind me; walked some more, still without reaching it! The airy tremor seemed to be fleeing before me, yet it became brighter, as when on overcast autumn nights a high-flying storm chases the clouds and discloses the stars.-- Finally, I had reached the high altar, and from heavenly heights the reddish evening light of the cupola still flowed down upon me, while all four corners of the crossing were lost in darkness. I felt myself seized as though by a powerful spirit, and pinned to the spot on which I stood-- It was as though the Genius of Michael Angelo were blowing against me! Then I wandered around the high altar and sat dO\ on the steps to the tribune, near the grave of the POpe,2 whose memory must not sully the quiet solemnity of this hour! I remained until the last warning before the church was closed. Single figures wandered lonely in the growing darkness, [p. 19] passing slowly and half seen, like phantoms; we would scarcely meet before disappearing again in the shadows of the pillars! Berninits colonnade, as I left the temple, seemed to me like a mere casually placed decoration. Indeed, this approach to St. Peters has ever and again made this same, merely decorative impression upon me. The superabundant crowd of statues on the flat roof of the pillared \1\<'alk, and an indefinable sense of dissatisfaction with the thickness of the columns, in relation to the spaces between them, may perhaps be the cause of something that is half unrecognized and indistinct even to me.

In the evening I spent a few hours with Angelika [Kaufinann], who graciously and quietly talked a lot with me. How modest she is! I kept seeing the wreath of the little flower Wunderhold 'Wondrously Charming") on her brow.

November 16. Rain in torrents, and Scirocco storm! Then, one takes refuge in St. Peter's Church, which [p. 20] stands there like a lofty independent being, and, within its hugely thick walls, has its own atmosphere, on which the outside weather operates only slowly, and on which passing storms have no influence at all; for which reason, it is in winter the warmest, but in summer often a deathly cold strolling-place. But how impressed I was, by daylight today, in the

2Alexander Borgia. ROMAN DIARY, I 5 proximity of the tremendous columns! and how this glittering, many-colored and disordered magnificence spoiled, for me, the quiet enjoyment of the sheer dimensions! Also, I was much annoyed by the statues of , which in part resembled possessed people, with hair on end and garments blown awry by an unmotivated storm. No, the hour Hom sunset to darkness shall remain the hour of my visits to St. Peter1s, until I am sufficiently satiated with the contemplation of sheer size and can, without impatience, pick out the best among the tasteless details.

[p.21] The Capitol (Capitoline l\fuseum). Up there, finally! One shudder after another passed over me from the head downward. For at least the ground is old. And they show one, sideways on the way up, the high stone block hewn in the manner of the ancients. --- The present Capitol stands turned around, with its back to the old Forwn! But we went up beneath the high figures of the Capitoline statues, who would rightly occupy their honorable place even if the front of the new Capitol looked out upon the Forum ofthe old Romans.

First Room. Capitoline Vase. Grace in form; outpoured lightness of the bas-reliefs. Sarcophagus with the battle of the . What lite, ordered in unforced symmetry; what light outlines of the figures; what fullness, without excess! - Sarcophagus with the fable ofEndymion; chaste Luna, or rather [p. 22] gentle , well be it for him who, in the careless bloom of existence, is struck by your mild arrow!

Third Room. This so-called Antinous stands there for me, a high ideal of innocence, in the tenderest bloom of life, issuing Hom the imagination of a noble artist, worthy to Jive in better times than those in which Antinous was deified! But what gentle traces of grief in this noble countenance! Such prostration, amid such a fullness oflife! 11le is transplanted into bitter times," and feels Rome's shame! Ah, the times of the heroes are past; and could this figure ripen into a hero? Opposite him stand Psyche and Amor. Who is it who calls this sweetest of aU groups, lIa kiss which has ripened into the most gracious picturell? To me, the bodies seem more gently felt by the artist than the heads, and especially the faces. Psyche (the single (p. 23] figure), bending downward, looks anxiously up at her oppressor []! Quite in the sublime style of the Daughters of Niobe in Florence! Just such tender wrappings of the soul are the undeveloped folds of this body. She awaits a milder sun, and already the earth has become a to her! Psyche sighs in the deep prisonhouse, etc.

This whole poem of Salis echoed around me as I looked at the charming captive. But alas! The stony weight of the butterfly wings! At first glance she seems to be sinking beneath them! It is believed that they were put on by a later artist. - The Child with the Swan, an archetype of childish joy, naive grace and charming helplessness. Second Room.

THE GREAT ROOM. The Dying Gladiator made a very deep impression on me. One sees the sinking near to death in the face; only the body [p.24] still supports itselfthrougb the mechanical strength of the practiced, finished limbs. The Wounded Amazon. What pain in these sharpened features, ROMAN DIARY, I 6 yet without any distortion! The marble itself seems to grow pale. The uncovered parts of the body disclose, especially in the transition from neck to shoulders and in the stronger rib cage, as in the muscles of the forearm, a strength and development somewhat exceeding the female norm. But my favorite is the Second Amazon, still quite young and virginal. What a garment! And how cleanly the outlines of this figure emerge from it! What a tenderly lengthened oval, this face, imbued with sorrowful solemnity! The Capitoline Juno. Impeccable ripe beauty, magnificence and fullness are united in this figure; calm awareness that she is the first, in Olympus and on earth! One contemplates her with admiration, but without lovingly lingering.

[p.25] Fourth Room. BUSTS. Marcus Brutus. This attribution is uncertain, and to my physiognomical feeling became constantly more so, the oftener I contemplated this face. - Marcus Aurelius; heartfelt goodness and fineness of feeling reveal themselves in this head, which quite matches that of nature. The Dying Alexander was to me a dear reminiscence of the Florentine one [ofthe same name], to which, however, it is greatly inferior. This one, moreover, seems to me to be not dying, but troubled unto death; perhaps after the kiHing of his friend. -- Capitoline Ariadne. I gave a cry of delight when I saw her. To me she is quite as lovely, in the expression of eternal bliss, as Niobe in the expression of benumbing eternal pain. Like a morning cloud of dew, a sweet numbness hovers over her brow, pressing the eyelids gently downward- Beautiful Ariadne! You have not yet quite [p. 26] awakened from the stormy night ofNaxos to the splendor of Olympus! Your dazzled eye cannot yet accommodate the full light of life and love - but you already sense, what you cannot yet understand, that you are blessed; blessed through your own death! For what are all these divine seductions but symbols of speedy and gentle kinds of death -- Elijah's chariot? - Faustina, the wife of Marcus Aurelius, one of the loveliest and most gently executed busts of Rome; frivolity, an expanse of water on which every puff of wind leaves its trace; yet pleasantly friendly, and, as I always thought with Wieland, with no unpleasantness. A full complement of stupid, silly, tricky faces were also there, just as they run about among us today. Heads of women laden with all the foolishness of fashion from the times of Rome's degeneracy; .., loose wigs -- all these splendors, manufactured goods, chiseled for jingling coins.

[p.27] IL

(November. . 19-22) November 19. The most beautiful day enticed me into the open, and with our dear Fernow we made the little trip to the Villa Millini on the height of the Janiculus. I rode a frightfully jostling yet also skittish Roman nag, past the obelisk ofHeliopolis, out through the Porta del Popolo, along the Via Flaminia to Ponte Molle, then the pleasant route along the Tiber between the stream and the small green hills which lean on Monte Mario. The way led rather steeply uphill as far as the Villa Madama, which was built by Giulio Romano, belongs to the King of Spain, and was formerly occupied by Donna Olimpia of Parma. It was here, according to legend, that the St. Bartholomew's Night originated, and I looked on the place with secret shudders. This villa has a desolate appearance. In the garden we picked sweet oranges from a free- [p.28] standing tree, ROMAN DIARY, I 7 which half hid the wealth of golden apples in its darkly gleaming foliage. From here, where the view downward is very rich, we followed Fernows lead along a little footpath which winds upward among hills covered with wild vegetation. Everything ",'3.S green. Oaks, blackberries, and blackthorn (Schlehen) were still there, and the fullness of evergreen shrubs and bushes surrounded me with the sweet reality of what I had so long been dreaming about. Sidewise between the hills there opened up very striking views over the Tiber valley and toward the northeastern mountains. Soracte stood dark blue; the Sabine Hills were shrouded in mist. Now we had reached the high, free meadow of the Janiculus, and Fernow led me to the edge, on the stone of an old wall, from where we enjoyed an unlimited view downward over Rome on its eleven hills, and over the whole Tiber valley and the Campagna. Truly, a great and uplifting moment! Ah, who could encompass all this with one feeling, (p. 29] one pure, full, strong thought of repose! To me Rome's youth is so dear, and I linger most gladly on the four old hills, where the valley looks toward Albanum, Sabina, etc., with childlike joy. How inviting is the Pincius (Pincio). its back adorned with the green of cypresses, pines and oaks, and with the villas--Borghese, Ludovisi, Doria, etcJ Never did I see a stream roB more fteely and boldly than Father Tiberinus through the Campagna di Roma! How fair is the bow with which he rounds the green battlefield of Constantius in Ponte Molle! His banks are well built up here below me, and the tall Lombard sedge wreaths3 suit him well. Splendidly rises St. Peter's

3This reed, which grows to a considerable height, is used to bind the grapevines in the Campagna. ROMAN DIARY, I 8 Church from the pompous city ofthe Vatican; to the right, the Pamfili Gardens display their green; to the left, [p. 30] those ofKorsini (Corsini) on smaU rises of ground; and there too lies the lower part of the Janiculus. Now I wandered beneath the splendid Gothic vaults of this cypress alley, unique in its noble and melancholy beauty! Beneath the blackish green of the high vaulting, one sees the kindred heights of St. Peter's dome, and glimpses the heaven beyond through the windows of the high lantern.

Sideways are laid out in order, as in a weJl-organized gallery, one painting after another of the Roman panorama, seen between the piHars of the cypress trunks -- or, a bend in the Tiber, milToring heaven, flows past without visibly touching its banks, between air and earth; the optical illusions succeed one another at every moment, their charms only heightened by the mists of the autumnal day, which cheat the eye in a thousand guises. Only when one has seen the dark masses of these cork and thorn oaks {Stecheichenl; the pines striving heavenward, the vacillating beauty of the cypresses, borne upward by the blue air [p. 31] - only then does one learn to understand the groupings and the foliage ofItalian painters, and their shadows redolent of coolness. Lovely, here on this canvas of nature, is the light shading of the olive trees on the slope of the hill, in counterpoint to the heavier shadows that crown its height. But what delight me more than anything are the Roman distances, when now the sun sinks, and the hills arise in ITagrance; there the old Alban [HiHs ](now Monte Cavo), where the castle of Jupiter Latialis stood, where Frascati (Tusculum) lies in purple on the hi1lside, and heaves its high shoulders out of the clouds. The plain toward Ostia lies empty, desolate and was sunk in mists, which shone in changing colors at sunset; the~ too, the rising Campagna toward Viterbo lies in mournful emptiness! We had had our lunch sent after us, and ate it in the open air in a niche above the fountain, whose margin was our table, and whose depth returned with harmonious resonance every tone called into it.

[p.32] November 20. The Vatican. I wandered today with our mends; and the faithful Hirt accompanied us. I, too, admired the [Farnese] Torso, and found it more interesting than I myself would have e,,:pected. "Is he resting on his club? is he cradling his sweet on his knees?" Let Hirt, Heinze or Herder decide that! But I too could feel the exalted veracity, definiteness and tender completion. One sees and feels the muscles powerfully swelling on the projecting side of the body, resting on the inward side, and only hinting at their strength as though seen under water. Apollonius, the son of Nestor of Athens, was the great artist who animated this block of marble. Cautiously Hirt led us into the Courtyard of the Belvedere, and first showed us on the left the fine porphyry Doric column. -- Then we stood before the charming bust (Herme) of the fair Bacchante [p. 33] -- and suddenly there appeared to us , who for me is wholly, singly and forever the God of Light! Looking out from afar, he launches aITOWS of the mind from his high thought-filled brow! He need not draw the bow in order to hit the mark.. Friendly is the mouth; mildly opens the right hand; peacefully rests the garment on the outstretched left arm, extended as for speech. So the Apollo of the Vatican appeared to me; more beautiful, nobler, more lofty than everything I had seen before him. Nothing of scorn and anger was visible to me upon him -- but here I had to leave the Vatican for today. I cannot bear standing, and had so forgotten myself before ApoJlo that, seized by sudden exhaustion, I very nearly sank down at his feet - a ROMAN DIARY, I 9

sony sacrifice! I fled to Angelika" and brought her the poems of her dear countryman Salis, who had entrusted them to me as a token of his regard for her. We whiled away a short hour in her studio, "the temple of the [p. 34] well- conducted Graces." Aside from some portraits, all of which were idealized but perhaps appealed to me all the more for that reason, I found her latest painting, Psyche and Arnor, inexpressibly channing. Psyche has carelessly opened the container from Proserpina's night-table, which has been brought for Juno from the Stygian mists issue from it, becloud her senses, oppress her heart - she sinks down., growing pale, and, like a broken-off morning flower, rests her tender little head on her lily breast as the last breath is about to issue from the half-opened, blanched rosy lips. -- But suddenly Amor, the loving everpresent one, stands beside her! Tears are issuing from her already closed eyes. With his golden locks he catches the falling pearls. -- Soulful Psyche! It was the final test! The most filmy lightness, and a noble ethereal charm are spread over this picture. The tender outlines, in which Psyche is almost visibly enclosed, are perhaps the most spiritual representation [p. 35] that a painter's brush has ever achieved4 Here I learned with joy, from Angelika's own lips, that Apollo had also made the same impression on her at first sight; that she too sensed in him neither the conqueror of the Python, still less the exterminator of Niobe's lovely children, but the ever cheerful and mild clarity of the god of light and the Muses.

In the evening, a funeral procession passed our window. The muffled figures of the black-and-white masked participants, bearing torches, proceeded in a long line through the Spanish Square (Piazza di ) and past the Propaganda. The female corpse lay uncovered in the open coffin, and the moon shone upon her pale dead visage. It was frighteningly gruesome.

[p.36] November 24. The Capitol (Capitoline).

My companion today was the learned antiquarian Zoega; this modest wise man, whom Rome honors, and whom we Danes proudly claim as our countryman. How gladly I go with him! His quiet, humanist mind, and the melancholy receptivity of his soul, are so in hannony with my way of seeing. and his teachings are as easily understood as his taste is fine. Envy me for the guides among whom I am fortunate enough to be able to choose! Today we lingered particularly among the sarcophaguses, from whose gentle pictorial language the tender spirit of the Greeks, all wrapped in the veil of the Graces, speaks to you still as with expiring harmonies, and the wisdom of Socrates and Plato rises toward heaven from the silence of the grave. Especially noteworthy is the small sarcophagus on the right of the door of the first room. Beginning with the story of , the gentle chain of ideas proceeds [p. 37], by way of a series of soulful and lovely pictures, through life's sunrise and midday to the quiet, shadowy gate of death. Aurora rises from the ocean; Prometheus robs Vulcan of the lifegiving spark; draws near, and Minerva with the butterfly, the animated one, to inspirit this life through consciousness and memory. Psyche and Arnor stand in sweet embrace -- the zenith (Midday) and completion of existence through love! shines down upon them the noonday light of repletion and life. The spirit of the Greeks hovers over all that prolongs our

4This painting is now in the summer residence of the reigning Princess of Anhalt-Dessau, at Luisium near Dessau. ROMAN DIARY, I 10 barren existence between love and death!' appears, the silent guide of the shades! The Fates complete their work! The Genius lowers his torch over the deceased, and Prometheus expiates, with eternal remorse [p. 38J and with the gnawing vulture, the lact that he joined immortal with mortaJ and condemned the lightly floating Psyche to the naITOW prison! The other sarcophaguses in this mom, with the Rape of Proserpina, with Endymion in the lap ofMorpheus (who is unobtrusively approached by the lightly wandering goddess, led by Amor), with the battle of the Amazons, the story of Chryseis, the Muses; and with Plato, Socrates or on the end-pieces -- aJI of them lead you back into a world opened and suffused with a cheerful evening light- a wodd of channing pictures and the exalted product of the noblest philosophy and poetry, -- and into the beautiful flowering time of the human spirit! Schiller's strophe reverberated around me:

There yet came then no frightful skeleton To the of the dying one; a kiss Took the last life from the lip. Still and sadly a genius lowers His torch; gentle cheert'ul pictures Jest even about necessity, And fate's dictum seems to us more tender Through the veil of mild humanity. [p. 39] I recited this strophe to Zoega from memory; it delighted this Greek as it did me. I am again writing it here from memory, and beg Schiller's pardon if I have perhaps uncousciously disturbed the hannony ofthe verse through a false word. -- Why has he not long since given us the collection of his scattered poems? Why does one have to assemble so many a beloved heart-song from the periodicaJs?

I greeted anew my favorites among the statues, and Zoega showed me those of the busts that are recognized as being authentic. -- Ah, Nero, Domitian, Caraca!Ia, Geta (who wildly directs a murderer's glance at his brother), Claudius -- Mousters! Gentle Marcus Aurelius, and you, great Agrippina, I flee to you -- How deep are the marks of the long suffered, deeply engraved pain in Agrippina's face! Interesting is the succession of the four heads of Marcus Aurelius, from boy upward to youth and man! How the youthftJl [p. 40] happiness of innocence yields to the hotter sun of the care-laden life of the throne -- and so develops, little by little, the face of the trusted, careworn, true old man with aJI his fUITows of trouble and SOITOW. I wanted to see nothing new today; Zoega showed me nothing further except a beautiful bust of Ariadne. She is mourning on Naxos, and is interesting as a counterpart to the great one of the subject. Then the ideaJ busts of Sappho, Plato, Homer and Epicurus.

November 22. Out by the Porta Pia, past the so-called Temple of Bacchus, on the hill over the puzzolana quarries, where fonnerly stood the camp of Camillus against the Gauls! Our dear Hirt explained to us everything in this field of the fonner world that was spread out before us. -Beneath us the Anio (now the Teverone) flowed through the valley. There was the Sacred

5 The style of this bas-relief points to about the fourth century. But the Greek train of thought is still there. On the short head end stand Adam and Eve with the serpent; so perhaps the deceased was a Christian. ROMAN DIARY, I 11 Mountain (a scarcely elevated hill) ftom which Menenius Agrippa, with the ingenious fable of the belly and the limbs, pacified the angry [p. 41] populace and led them back to Rome, where the Tribunes were then created. There beyond the Anio stood the Gauls in the second siege of Rome. Here on this side were the Romans, with only this little river between them. -- There, contemptuous, stepped the Gallic Goliath, and Manlius orquatus won for himself the honorable epithet, and fteed the family of the shame of his father, the disgrace of the Tarpeian death Over there beyond the open field and the bridge Jay the country house of Faon, where Nero ended a life without honor by a miserable death - which field is now called Sarpentara. On the right appears, ftom one hill to the other, the Aqueduct of Marcus Agrippa, which caIries the water of the Aqua Virgo, sacred to Diana, to Rome, where it pours into the Fountain and is known as the best and purest water of Rome, still under the uame of Aqua Virgo. To the left stand the chalk hills of Sabinum; then arises out of the intervening depression the chain of the Alban and [p. 42] Frascatian hills, and the high Monte Cavo (all volcanoes of the ancient world) with the sylvan lakes ofNemi and Albano. There on the hill stood the Sabine Quirinum (the whole is the Algidus of the ancients); and the Monticelli, ranged at the feet of the high Sabines, were bedecked with towns, each of which in its time strove vainly to suppress the young Rome. What a life of the population in this valley that is now so depopulated! - There on the right, finally, stood Kollatia (Collatia), where Lucretia fell and died, in order to rise again!

[p.43] IlL (November 22-27) Rome, November 22, 1795. Villa Ludovisi. The Ludovisi Mars -- or, in our Rirt's opinion, a , in which Ariadne is missing from the group- -- seemed to me immediately, and increasingly, one of the noblest and gentlest figures in the world of the ideal. Beautiful is the still, self-aware visage, splendid the wellrepresented amplitude of the body, especially the back in the style of the Torso. Beautiful also is the young and cheerful Faun at the door, whose laughing features radiate not peasant coarseness but rustic good humor. The rendering ofthe body is somewhat dry; this is not the divine plenitude of consummate youth, but a handsome, rapidly grown-up YOlmg herdsman, still rather thin from growing. Shepherd's staff, pipes and deerskin are placed near him as attributes. The trunk of a young Bacchus is of a wonderful soft beauty, and in its lovely fullness stands [p. 44] in an instructive contrast to the young Faun. Now we entered the room where the famous groups are located, the so-called Lucius Papirius with his mother, and then ATria and Paetus! I stood rooted before the Electra6 Oh, Greeks, eternal geniuses of art! Oh, Sophocles, and oh, my friend Herder, your Greek spirit was also around me! I was seized in the innermost sanctum of my soul and held fast by this high representation, and saw everything else today only with my eyes. This virgin matron and this youth -- this bending ofthe tall figure, whom no slave's garment and cropped hair can dishonor!7

6This group is called Orestes and Electra by the more recent antiquarians.

7This cropped hair identifies the daughter of Agamemnon, kept as a slave in her father's murder-stained palace. ROMAN DIARY, I 12 This upward glance of the tender youth into the eyes of his motherly sister; this eurhythmy of the whole, which like a stream [p. 45] of euphony is poured over the two of them! - As I said, I saw Paetus and ATria only with my eyes today. I remember well enough what else I was shown, and what was said to me; but the inward sense that mirrored my own was with Orestes and Electra. I followed this youth, over the bodies of Aegisthus and the mother, to Tauris; saw him, pursued by the Furies, offer himself to the unrecognized Iphigenia, a willing sacrifice! 's harmonies resounded, and the harpstrings of my feeling vibrated in painful-sweet undulation the whole day through. Hitt considers the fine group of Paetus and Arria to be a Gaulish or Gennanic general with his wife, who, in the manner of these nations, has followed him in the baggage train. Forestalling the shame of the [Roman] triumphal march, he has killed her; holding her dying body with his left ann, he plunges the sword with his sinewy right arm into his own breast His barbarian's strength, the rather long hair, the wildly defiant [p. 46J air, and an unmistakable roughness of body identify him; just as she is identified by her mther strong physique and the unkempt shaggy hair. So viewed, it is a magnificent piece. How she sinks down under the mortal blow - How she opens her lips to the last breath! How broken is the eye; how limp the strong but rounded arm and knee; and how gently it is conceived, so that one does not see the wound of the full bosom, but only the blood trickling from beneath the gannent! The Capitol (Capitoline). First Room. November 23. A handsome Theseus, recognizable from the Ludovisi example, or vice versa. Here, the face of the youth as he listens to his mother's taJe is even more charming. Beautiful, too, is the sarcophagus with the nine Muses! Again I was moved by the artist's gently understated idea. Socrates, in front of whom stands Mnemosyne, vested in solemnity! [p. 47J "So, did you also hope for immortality because of memory?" the veiled goddess whispers to him. Yes! because you existed, because you were a thinking and feeling being, the poisoned cup was not the end of your career, Oh eminent Socrates! The fountain's edge, in the fonn of a round altar (apparently once surrounding a consecrated temple spring), is adorned with the twelve supreme gods in 005relief--and the old Grecian style, the sacred style ofthe ancients.

Great Hall. Here I was charmed by the Muse Urania, her victorious head adorned with the Sirens' feathers. The lofty solemnity of this figure, the hannony of the pose, the fullness of the gannent, which still serves to outline the divine limbs, the slight marks of angry contempt around the mouth, especially the slightly cnrling upper lip, everything [p. 48J serves to characterize this irascibly victorious first amoug the Muses. The Dying Combatant; or, according to Hitt, the Gaul who was slain by Manlius Torquatus on the Teverone Bridge. A barbarian's strength, and greatness without beauty in fonn, distinguish this first-rate work of art.

Villa Ludovisi. Second Visit. November 24.

Today we made our pilgrimage to the famous colossal bust of the Queen ofOlympus. ROMAN DIARY, I 13 The door of the library in the Side Casino, where she stands, is opened only as a special favor. And truly, she is placed so badly, in a comer on the ground, that they must really be ashamed to exhibit her. Unavoidably, one looks down upon the head ofthe Queen of Heaven, who ought to look down on us, demanding reverence trom a height of twenty feet, the stature that the completed figure would possess. [p. 49] It is the most sublime offemale figures, above which no thought can fly! In eternal, unchallenged possession of all beauty, greatness, power and maguificence, she has nothing more to wish for! She can receive nothing more. In unsullied purity she stood before me, as virgin, woman, mother, all-encompassing, without love and without pain! No trace of the past has impressed itself upon these eternally quiet features; no intimation ofthe future distorts them; the eternal fullness of the present enwraps her in immortal life. The utmost finish in the working of the marble -- the noble brow, the rounded cheek, the amply modeled chin, the crinkled hair laid flat upon the illustrious head -- but before and above everything else, the sweet gaze of her beautiful eyes, mirroring the undisturbed beatitude of her inward divine being, distinguish this exalted light-beam of art trom all other Juno representations. Hirt attributes this bust to the time of Alexander, in other words to the select style of our Winckelmann, [p. 50] who, however, here truly stands in the most enchanting harmony with the noble manner.

In leaving the Casino, we were delighted by the splendid tree which, with a second and veIY beautiful brother tree, makes such a splendid group on the adjacent open space. The trunk of the former tree has a circumference three times the length ofHirt's extended arms (drey Hirtische Klaftern); and anyone who knows Hirt face to face knows that these are of the biggest. We entered the Casino, where Guercino's famous Aurora forms the ceiling of the lower . Only, first of alII can't yet see any painting; and secondly, this one will never be there for me. This commonplace Roman street atmosphere, tranferred to Heaven, disgusts me! Mounting to the upper stOIY, we saw another bust of Juno (actually one of the most beautiful in Rome) standing on a dark landing. They have a strange way of placing their Junos in the Villa Ludovisi. We also found a veIY lovely bas-relief embedded in the masonry above the stairway. It represents two [p. 51] Cupids involved in a secret enterprise: to wit, they have made off with the weapons of Hercules! One little rogue is smilingly collapsing under the unaccustomed burden, while the other supports him with childish clumsiness. View from the Balcony of the Casino Ludovisi..

It is one of the most beautiful in Rome! One is entirely surrounded by eternally green Nature, on the slope of the beautiful Pincio, and looks so familiarly from the gentle eminence into Rome's world, and out over the open countIY into dignified remotenesses that open to the Queen of the World like glimpses of the future. It was about noontime; light mists, irradiated by the sun, swam in the atmosphere, veiling and revealing, distancing and approaching to the eye the unencompassable fullness of the scene. Splendidly lay the hills of the Sabine land, stretching upward into the clouds; the highest mountain of the Abruzzo, known as the Gran Sasso d'ltalia, is said to have been [p. 52] newly measured at 10,000 feet -- actual1y higher than the [Saint] Gotthard, which is difficult for me to believe. Powerful, however, are the distant, heaped- up rocky masses; abrupt precipices were visible among the remote hills, far beyond Tibur's gorge. Between the dark tops of two cypress trees, Tibur appears, shining white at the foot of the mountains. From the other side, looking to the northeast, the view is also agreeable. To the right, Soracte rests in the lap of the Campagna. To the left, the Villa Millini preens itself on the brow of the Janiculus. Toward Viterbo, the empty Campagna rises in the north; the cupolas and towers, the columns of Rome, stand half in ROMAN DIARY, I 14 sun and half in shadow; above them extend the heights of Montorio, where the royal pines and cypresses rise from the Pamfili and Corsini villas, the former floating above the distant atmosphere, the latter penetrating it On the way back, I could not refrain from making another, unaccompanied visit to the Electra. Today I felt quite intimate with the [p. 53] brave and patient sufferer! I went up to her, confidently took her hand, and found her always more touching and noble, the closer I approached. Menelaus, a pupil of Stephanos, is the artist's name.

Villa Borghese. - Museum Gabinum.

Today we visited only the lonely building which, in its rustic styJe, stands so melancholy beneath the floating pine-clad heaven, and is dedicated exclusively to the treasures which were found three years ago in the ruins of the town of Gab ii, twelve miles ftom here between Rome and Tivoli. It consists of a respectable number of statues and busts, mostly portrait busts and statues presented as heroes. All ofthem are more or less distinguished by the vigorous style of the execution, which, however, lacks the Jast touch of finished peIfection.

Here is found the only fine bust of Marcus Agrippa, the wise protective spirit of Augustus; also a fine statue of the noble [p. 54J Gennanicus as hero. The same bust that is presented in the Capitoline as Marcus Brutus, and whose authenticity is questioned by my physiognomical instinct, was also in this collection, and is apparently a portrait of Corbulo, whose daughter (the wife ofDomitian) commissioned the tomb in which it was found. The onJy genuine bust of Brutus was shown me by Tischbein in the porcelain factory in . One of the finest and most soulful of faces -- and oh! heartrendingly similar to Julius Caesar! I spent the twilight hour in confidential talk with our dear Zoega in St Peter's. We left the temple as the moon was just rising behind the colonnade, and its silvery light, shattered in a thousand fragments, sifted downward through the gentle spray of the fountains. We drove together among the solemn ruins of the Campo Vaccino, where half-extinguished light and black shadows, like present and past, struggled together in monstrous giant shapes; [p. 55] then through the and around the Coliseum. How ominously the darkness reigned, half visible, in the variously vaulted arcades; with what magic the silver shrubbery nodded downward into the empty chambers! How solemnly the full moon looked through the loftiest vaults beneath the matrons' seats! Luna seemed also to project a friendly glance into the temple hall dedicated to her, which stands in front of the Coliseum and close to the Temple of Peace, and the large niches or twin arches which touch upon it at the rear and are believed to have been dedicated to Apollo and Diana"

The Belvedere [Vatican Museum]. Second Visit. November 25. I hurried straight into the Cortile, and today went to the right ftom the entrance in order to come first to the Laokoon, and then to see the Apollo from the front I lingered before the gigantic work [p. 56] of genius until the dreadful group before me attained such breathing life that I could no longer stand it, but fled from the sight of this extreme suffering (like that of Orestes, on the beautiful sculpture of the sarcophagus, at the hands of the Furies in the shadows

8This ruin is also called il Tempio del Sale (the Temple of the Sun). ROMAN DIARY, I 15 of the olive branch) into the protection of the god of the Muses! A fiiendly Apo110 floated toward me, as though borne by an eternal beam oflight! Severe yet mild, and friendlier the nearer one approaches him. How greatly 1 was refreshed by this luminous vision of eternal serenity, of the highest spiritual life and the gentlest rest, after having viewed that other solemn and fiightening representation, in which all human outcry, all torment of body and soul- the father dying with and for his sons -- is heaped together in inextricable knots of death! I remained for a long time among the channing sarcophaguses, which here, enwreathed with the loveliest pictures of death as with the fragrant flowers of night, stand so invitingly open! Ah! so inviting that, to my gloomy thoughts, the choice only became more difficult. [p. 57] Touching is the small sarcophagus on whose cover a young woman lies; around her childish genii play their innocent games, conducting her gently to .

The Large Rotunda.

I hastened, with hands extended, between and past the two splendid Molossen, through the Animals' Room and the Muses' Hall, to the large Rotonda: for I had reserved the colossal Muse for myself for today. Then I stood before the fifteen-foot tragic goddess. Oh! again, she is unique! Unsurpassable even in thought, like the Ludovisi Juno! The quiet sOlTOwing look, the slight inclination of the tall head struck me through and through. "You it was who inspired Sophocles"! How wondrously the hair9 is arranged on this godlike head; what fullness and majesty are united in this entire figure! How the simple fp. 58] but rich garment (a simple chemise with long sleeves and a coulisse around the neck) flows downward, revealing every contour of the pure limbs! How quiet and yet filled with inner life is the whole figure! What a splendid line is drawn from the right foot to the powerful shoulder; and how especially fine is the posture of the left arm!

Among the splendid colossal busts of the Rotunda, I especially like the old ,vith the fishes in his beard. The sea's depth shows in his face! The great Ceres, however, is powerfully cold. But only the old, laurel-crowned grumbler (Griesgram)! in the great central tribune was a horror to me! I find it incomprehensible how one could plump down such a symbol of imperfect humanity in the midst of these ideal beings. The splendid porphyry basin which gathers the streaming light of the Rotunda, the elegant antique mosaic which embellishes [p. 59] the floor, everything unites to glorif'ythis haIl of the gods. The Room of the MWies.

Apollo Musagetes [Apollo as Leader of the Muses]. Expression, placement, forward movement, all is music in this gracious work of art! He floats past yon, accompanied by unseen harmonies; his lyre sounds, and euphony flows from lips opened to soug. The Muses surrounding him are collected figures of very unequal value. The seated one is beautiful, the veiled one even more so. Ramdohr's Melpomene is very channing, and for that reason not very ideal; not free of a certain fiivolity, and much more probably the portrait of a pretty actress (Mima) than a representation of the severe Muse.

"It is only from these art works that one can learn to understand the Homeric expression, Ambrosian locks.

lOIt is the statue of an emperor, but I have forgotten which one. ROMAN DIARY, I 16 The Room ()f the Animals.

The children's favorite, and worth an entire day by itself Today I concentrated only on the old and honorable Nile. With what good nature [p. 60] he lets the undisciplined little mobsters clamber around him! The little rogue with folded anns, grinning with pleasure, who sits up above in the , is the very picture ofhannless, childish sensual delight

The Great Gallery.

They almost dragged me in -- despite my outcry, "I can't go on! Have mercy for today"! Genius [a sculpture]: very purely conceived and smootWy executed; but to me it seems somewhat weak and uninspired. Diana: very lively movement. She hastens past you, but looks farther afield. My ideal Diana I found only later on in the Gallery. - Danaide, or with the Water Jug; indescribably tender and maidenly - A splendid statue, called Pudicitia (Modesty). High womanly nobility and self-sufficient innocence encompass her. The beautiful symmetry of the limbs breaks through the wide enveloping gannent She seems to listen to a distant tone, and holds her right [p. 61] ann, supported by the left hand, up to her ear. A sleeping figure, the so-called Cleopatra; very effective from a distance, but her position lacks the naivete of sleep. She has consciously posed herself We hastened through the remainder of this incomparable treasury of art, which is here conserved with such noble ostentation. A glance fell on the touching old couple who still join faithful hands above the grave. This downward glance from the ideal world into a gentle humanity does one good. The Capitol (Capitoline).

November 26. Today's was a purely scientific visit; and since you have long been aware of everything I was learning for the first time, I will not recite my lesson to you. You would, however, laugh at our little disputes. In reasoning, your lady mend is very teachable, but her feelings are very arbitrary. The argument arose over the fair Ariadne; and [p. 62] Hirt found it necessary to disagree with me about the expression in this divine face - yet tailed to convert me, and ultimately declared that there is no stubbornness so mischievous as that of the idealists. Upon which, he led me to those masterful hOITors, the two old women (one near the splendid Priestess oflsis, known as Phaedra's Nurse; the other in the room of Antinous and the Psyches), and bade me, here before these daughters of reality, to awake from my beautiful dream; but he got nowhere! I fled from these horrific pictures of dishonored age to the protection of Psyche and Amor and their sister, high Urania, whose anger mghtens me as little as that of the long-distance marksman.

Not without reverence could I view the ancient statue of Diana of Ephesus. AB mother of the living, sUITounded by life; as nourisher, decked out with the swelling breasts of abundance; and as all-embracing mother with [p. 63] outspread arms. Full of majesty, too, is the head of Jupiter Ammon; the only one of its kind. Nor can one view without interest the splendid bronze vase from the triumphal booty ofLuculius over Mithridates. Do you know the fine bust of the great Scipio? It stands in the long corridor, and is identified by the scar on the head: a reminder of that glorious wound which he received in the battle on the Ticino, in which as a youth of eighteen he saved his father's life. Were not you, like M***n and me, struck by a touching resemblance? How nearly the great African resembles the immortal Bonnet! and precisely in the characteristic furrows of the brow and the mobile traits around the mouth. ROMAN DIARY, I 17 In the Great Room, I made the acquaintance today of the tender maiden known as the Priestess ofIsis, and of the great Vestal, Maxima. She carries the utensils pertaining to the sacred fire; yet her tall figure is completely veiled to the veIY fingertips. Position., bodily [p. 64] structure, and the full garment are large and dignified - only the face fell short, in my estimation, and seemed to me too weakly.

In the Room althe Philosaphers.

I took great pleasure in the outstanding bust of Cicero; in the fine heads of Plato -- even though they are actually Hebons or Indian Bacchus busts, yet in no way less beautiful, in their inebriate enthusiasm, their ecstatic gaze half reengorged; and in the first of the four heads of Horner, with which I shall content myself until I see the Neapolitan one. But now follow me to the sunset, which I do not like to miss, as long as the day-star shines for me over Rome -- and oh! sinks for me into Rome's past! First we visit the tomb of the good Ganganelli, ai Apostoli -- of the mendly elder who received you so graciously as a youth. Then to the lonely Carthusian convent which Michael-Angelo constructed above and out of the ruins of the [p. 65] . It stands on the slope of the Quirinal HiJI. From its lonely cloister garden., dedicated to eternal silence, four majestic cypresses rise up like mute and melancholy witnesses. What longing I felt in the shadow of these cypresses! But the strict rule of the order forbade my entrance. I always feel a reverence for the Carthusians; only sufferers pledge themselves to these vows, only a broken heart to this silence! Shudderingly beautiful is the ancient vestibule, which Michael Angelo wedded to his dome, supported by the eight huge antique granite columns.

But come now to the immortal Youths of the Qurinal! See their lofty heads irradiated by the reddish light of evening! Does it not seem to you as though they would arise and hasten to Olympus on fire-breathing steeds? Now the fair ruin of the Temple, past those two beautiful Corinthian columns, and into the Campo Vaccino; there let us wander beside the Via Sacra, [p. 66] until darkness sinks down from the shadowy vaults of the Palatine. The Coliseum. November 27. After an instructive lecture under the triumphal arches of Titus and Constantine, and a topographical glimpse into this most holy locality of old Rome, where ruminant cattle now lay on thick grass, sunning themselves next to the triumphal arch, we entered the nearby Coliseum about the noon hour. We climbed as far as possible into its innermost region, over and around and beneath the gigantic ruins. Only when one has climbed up on these colossal parts of the whole can one appreciate the extent and splendid proportions of this building, unique in the old and new worlds, which, originating in Rome, distributed its copies over the whole conquered world; for it was from the barbaric conquerors that the milder Greeks unwillingly took over the gruesome custom of combative games. Eighty-six thousand persons could sit on the forty rows [p. 67]of marble benches around the arena, and twenty thousand stand. The skeletons of the huge colwnns which support the arcades consist of great squared pieces of hard travertine; the surfacing and the walls are of brick, and the vaults, which are designed to combine the greatest stability with the maximum lightness, are of puzzolan material (Puzzalantrass). From within and without, the whole edifice was sheathed in marble, which the barbarians of ancient and modem times gnawed at and plundered until they had totally robbed the building of its splendid garment ROMAN DIARY, I 18 The variable magic of being, in these ruins, is indescribable. Now walls hang as it were toppling over against you, and now you peer down into deep black holes of fallen vaults; high grass overgrows the space where formerly the Senators and Vestals sat We clambered over fallen masonIY into the rear train of arches (or the corridor which ran around the entire building), where was the entrance of Titus to his loge. [p. 68] Here we stood on the white marble blocks which the much-praised Emperor bestrode when he passed through the monstrously swaying galleIY from his palace to the amphitheater to see the dreadful performance. From here, the view of the massive ruins that constitute the Baths of Titns on the Esquiline is veIY striking. Here, the best part of the high vaulted passages that ran around the main floor loges is preserved in a long stretch. These were the corridors where one could rest ftom sitting, take refuge in bad weather, etc. We climbed up to the seats of the Roman women or matrons. Not without dread could I think that women saw these bloody games. But my repulsion grew to absolute horror when they told me that under Commodus and Heliogabalus the Roman matrons fought with the wild beasts, and that under the rule of the mild Trajan, I 0,000 fighters entered the arena in three days -- ten thousand fighters for life and death!

[p. 69] But what a view from here around the amphitheater! How it combines the sense of the greatness of the whole with the most fascinating details of the picturesque parts, which offer us dark passages, masonry hung with ivy and jasmine, the inteimingling lights and shadows in inexhaustible plenty! Then a look downward into the arena, which, as one makes the circuit, is now egg-shaped and now, through the same optical illusion, again looks round. How clearly one sees and hears, in and out of the depths! But more beautiful than all this is the world of thoughts which Rome evokes, with its hills, towers, cupolas, columns, obelisks, ruins and palaces! As one strolls throngh the arcades, a painting arises in each empty chamber, and you wander in a measureless galleIY in which Nature and art, past and present unite in such a way that mind and spirit are alternately bound, loosened, and powerfully directed hither and yon.

Finally [p. 70] we encamped in the mild light of noon., approximately above the entrance of the square which opened toward the Via Sacra and upon the Meta Sudons. Far off, like a point of repose, stood the Pyramid of Cestius, ever lonely and venerable. Close by on the left arose the cypresses on the Cjjliu.~ (), where formerly was the Vivarium. To the right lay the Palatine hill of ruins, dreadfully stretched out; and among the remains of the Emperors' Palaces was spread the solemn darkness of the evergreen oaks. A single palm raises its head high above this dwelling place of the past -- to whom among the high shades shall we dedicate it? To you, oh noble, wise Marcus Aurelins, was it unanimously attributed! Like a carpet the blue sky was spread over the broad space, and a blue Monte Cavo overlooked the highest circumvallation on that side.

Finally we climbed down again, and walked around the outside of the best preserved part of the whole, which still rose before us. [p.71] We admired in profile tbe well-conceived decrease in the circwuference up to the topmost row of chambers. [Not less did we admire] the lightness and beauty, the appropriateness in the proportions and in the sequence of the orders, with the old Doric order carIYing the slender Ionic, the latter bearing the graceful Corinthian, and this in turn being overtopped by the counecting Corinthian pilaster[s] which support the fourth row of arcades. So stands this building in almost superhuman splendor. [Left to itseltl, it would have defied the centuries; only arrogance and untamed fanaticism have made it a ruin. ROMAN DIARY, I 19 Today we saw the sunset from the balcony of the Casino Ludovisi. The great garden of this villa is not beautiful, either in its parts or as a whole; and the encircling city wall gives it a constricted, cloister-like feeling. But above, one looks into the massed green of the cypresses, plane trees and laurels, and forgets the tiresome details. We felt what a sunset over Rome on a fine summer evening [p. 72] must be, when all objects swim in the glow, and animated colored mists veil the distances. Today, the sun's languid rays slid feebly over everything, without life or love.

I committed to memoIY the map ofthis well-fined neighborhood. In the south stands the high Alban Mountain; in the north, Soracte. On the west is the majestic dome of St. Peter's, and in the east rise the Sabine Hills. The green Campo d'Annibale lies beneath the summit of the Alban range; then follow Castel Gandolfo and Albano along the mountainous spine. Rocca di Papa hangs like a jackdaw's nest over the rocky wall, and Frascati lies sweetly blushing in ever youthful grace beneath its cypresses, oaks, pines and laurels, overtopped by high Tusculum. To the southwest stand, lonely on their empty plain., the Pyramid [ofCestiusJ and the old gray basilica ofSt. Paul's [Outside the Walls). To the southeast you see Tivoli at the foot of the mountains. Prettily crowning the neighborhood are the three charming, diminutive mountains, or Monticelli, animated with towns and cloisters.

[p.73] IV.

(November 28-3 I [sic]) A Walk in the Villa .Pamfili. .November 28. I was sick and sad. Up to now I have not received here in Rome a single line, a single word .\Torn over the Alps. Lonely I hastened into the solitude of the Villa Pamfili, which Angelika had described to me as a dedicated Temple of Melancholy. One must first make one's way through a stiff, rather modern foregarden, full of Schneiderscherz and W{L~serwitz, which pours itself out eveIYWhere in thin streaks, before one arrives beneath the high willow grove of the distantly seen pine-heaven and wanders in Dominichino's garden creation. How greatly I prefer such a garden., in the old Italian style (of which the French [style] was a French translation, somewhat in the taste of La Motte's Iliad), to aU our miniatures of the English gardens! How much rather do I wander in a high, untrimmed alley of majestic [p. 74] trees, opening upon a blue distance, than in those pointlessly entangled wind-corridors where one sees nothing and almost becomes giddy .\Torn the constant turning! Here, beneath this broadly outstretched pine grove, my anxious heart beat more freely; a gentle carpet of turf extends up and down hiU. Uniquely beautiful is the unencmnbered view from beneath the bright green leafy canopy of these royal spruces, toward distant objects which, seen .\Tom within these aiIY shadows, take on a quite special charm. Too, the taU pine exudes a veIY pleasant re.\Teshing air. They had just been occupied in knocking down the .\Tuit of these trees with long sticks, to me a quite novel type of fruit harvest To remove the individual hearts from their resinous setting, they roast the whole pine cone, and knock out the individual seeds, which my children did not wait to be shown a second time; for .\Torn that time on, eveIY gardener pressed pine- fruits on the little blond-heads (for which the Italians have a tender preference, I suppose in honor of Apollo, Bacchus, and perhaps Guido's and [p.75] Omeggio's angels' heads), and the roasting and crackling, to my great distress, had no end.

By the garden walls stood splendid orange trees, loaded with golden fruit, and around a ROMAN DIARY, I 20 little pond the most beautiful weeping willows that I had seen since the garden of the former Archbishop in MontpeUier. In the Casino there are a few handsome antiques. Below in the patio (Vorplatz), the sarcophagus whose masterful but much damaged has-relief tells the stoIY of Meleager. Above, in the upper stoIY, stands a wonderfully beautiful statue known as the VestaI. The hair on her head stands up like flames, perhaps a symbol of her office; no one could provide information. Especially beautiful was the way the garment was wrapped about this tall figure. There is also a veIY beautiful young Faun. The view.\Torn the balcony of the Casino is charming. From St. Peter's I drove conveniently up Montorio, and stand overlooking Rome .\Torn the West. [p. 76] Here is the finest prospect of the Sabine Hills. The views extend deep within., as far as the sun-sparkling snow mountains of Subiaco. There is indeed a wonderful splendor and greatness in these Roman distances. To the left one sees, between the mass of St Peter's and the cypresses of Villa Mellini, straight through to the lonely and, as it were, isolated, rugged Soracte. To the right lie the Corsini Gardens, with their Palace and Casino, climbing ITom Rome to the backbone ofMontorio. The pine-tops swim like little green islands in the sunny, misty air, and the trunks are concealed. Here and there the Tiber gives a mendly upward glance. There greenly lie the meadows of Cincinnatus and the . A ladder of cheerful green rises .\Torn the vegetable gardens and reed-wreaths (Schi1fkrtinzen) of the Tiber, past the olive trees and laurels, to the summit of cypresses and oaks.

[p.77] Large Casino of the Villa Borghese. November 29. From the abundance of beauty which presses upon the beholder in this most tasteful of exhibitions, the following figures spoke most intelligibly to me today. Three Cupids lie sleeping on a marble basin, and present the most charming picture of childish beauty and helpless grace. They have just crept out of the egg, and lie like young birds in the nest, soft and warm, clinging together over and around each other. Only a woman, only a mother, listening to her sleeping children with motherly adoration, can wholly feel the quiet charm of this group. The good little creatures! Up to now they have done nothing wrong, for they are not yet fledged, and their little wings are still limp like those of young doves. -- And yet a loose, half invisible smile plays upon the half-open lips -- Ah! they will only too soon awaken. [p. 78] Fair are the two black-clad statues called the Camilli, outstanding in workmanship and appealing in character. They are truly sacrificial boys, and I conld not forbear imagining Agathon in his innocence, in the sacred grove at Delphi, in this form. Apollo ~auroct[hJonas. I admired the pure, tenderly matured body, the lightness and assurance of the beautiful pose. Only this finely formed face is an unwritten paper- the emptiest I can possibly imagine. Wonderfully beautiful is the colossal bust of Lucius Verus, the co-ruler of Marcus Aurelius, one of the most finished of art works. Subtlety and cunning of feature, without nobility of mind, characterize this visage. The fine lips seem opened for crafty talk. The counterpart-- the bust of dear Marcus Aurelius- is wen executed, but less characteristic than that of the Capitoline. The famous Borgbese Gladiator (or, as some believe, a statue [p. 79] erected in honor of the Athenian Chabrias), is something a woman can only admire; the violence in the pose never permitted me a [moment of] quiet contemplation. You alone, noble Muse, who stand there in cheerful reflective repose, leaning on the altar, you alone can I lavingly admire! How the concealing garment is poured around this high bodily structure! How chaste and how full of grace and charm! In the next room is a bronze female bust concerning which I was afterward informed that ROMAN DIARY, I 21 it was a cast from one of the Daughters of Niobe. To me it seemed like something never before seen. It is the most charming, virginal head; an archetype of beauty, tender, and verging on ripeness; it needs only the breath of love to open the bud. In the first large room I was much struck by the alto rilievo [high relief) over the door, which depicts Curtius as he is plunging into the flaming depths. They say that only the and rider's torso is ancient; and even this is questioned. But not the less [p. 80] beautiful is the noble enthusiasm in the face of Curtius. Fun of truth, also, is the frightened resistance of the horse; one can measure the depth of the in his wild and fieIY expression. Here, too, is the famous basso rilievo (bas-relief) of the dancing Horae [minor goddesses]. It gives one a quite special feeling to see the prototype of this most charming idea, whose dun copies we had so long grown tired of on wallpaper, flower pots, sugar bowls, funs, etc., here soulfully breathing the ever youthful life of art.

The Palace of the Conservators (Conservaton). November 30. With friend Zoega 1 visited the Palazzo dei Canservatori, where the single Roman Senator (now Prince Rezzonico) lives. Assembled here, in addition to the Capitoline GalleIY of Paintings, is much that is of greatest interest. The statues of the captive Princes, of bigio, a stone much harder than marble, splendidly chiseled. Ah! they look [p. 81} with silent pain on their mutilated hands, proclaiming simultaneously the cruelty of Rome the world-tyrant on ground dedicated to the memoIY of Rome's greatness! The inner courtyard of the palace is littered with a quantity of.\Tagments of colossal statues, in heads, feet, fists, etc., compared with which the colossi of the Quirinal are miniatures; these would be 26 feet tall.

The Capitoline GalIeIY of Paintings was the first I have seen in Rome; I was struck, among many others, by: L The Persian Sibyl, by Guercino, the first painting of this famous master that I have seen with real pleasure.

2. An Ariadne on Naxos, by , one of the absolutely most frightful of paintings. Oh, that Guido had given up painting sooner! All colors are mixed up together, and so crude! The bodies look like flayed skins, like those ephemera which deposit their mind- and bodiless remains [p. 82] in thousands on our windowpanes on fine SlUllmer evenings. 3. A veIY nice miniature painting, the Washing of the Feet, by mad. Subleyras; veIY tender and feminine in feeling, and executed with elegance. 4. Presentation in the Temple, by Fra Bartolomei [sic], Rafuel's second teacher. The young and tender M3IJ' is a charming, still rather weak Sechswiichnerin [new mother], and seems to totter as she bears her sweet little burden. Saint Sebastian (and God knows how he, with the arrow in his liver, gets into this painting!) is a fine, expressive head and body. On the left, the artist has painted himself quite naively. I really heartily liked this painting. The groups are so natural, the heads have such individuality; the organization of the whole scene is understandable, and a characteristic purity of outline, combined with a strict sobriety in the brushwork, distinguish this noble painting, which to me was the most likable in this collection. [p.83} 5. An Anima Beata by Guido [Rem]. Charming upward glance of the trarnfigured spirit. True, it has become as gray and dull in color as a fine Magdalen that hangs ROMAN DIARY, I 22 nearby; but one quite forgets the shortcomings of the coloring in the devotedly beautiful expression of these heads. 6. A Night Piece by Salvator Rosa; a soldier at the base of a wild cliff, veIY alarming!

7. Various paintings by Garofalo, whom I begin to like, and who is characterized by clear outlines and gently executed mezzotints. We visited the old Etruscan she-wolf ofthe Lupercalia, with the lightning-struck haunch; the most venerable relic of . Also the bust of Junius Brutus; a serious, severe and anxious countenance. It is open to doubt. In Zoega's opinion., the work is of the third centuIY. It is veIY hard and dIY.

Then we went together to the Villa [p. 84J Mattei, the favorite resort of our dear Zoega. It has a sequestered situation on the southern slopes of the Colius (Caelian Hill), and is neglected; that is to say, under this heaven, beautiful. How blue was the ! How pure the sunlight! How dark the shadows! The air was a sharp, after a frosty night, but veIY invigorating. The view around and downward from this perspective into old Rome and into the empty, spread-out fields of the past is touching, noble and melancholy. Zoega led my wande.ring gaze with his characteristic gentle good nature and his condescension to my limited erudition. Just beneath us we had a long stretch of the ruins of Rome's walls; then., almost before us but a little to the left, the huge masses of the Baths ofCaracaUa. Beneath us, the green Caelian Hill extended gently downward; farther on lies the San Giovanni Gate, formerly the , and the road to Alba Longa. Then the San Sebastiano Gate, formerly the Porta Capena; nearby stands the [p. 85] triumphal arch ofDrnsus, the brother of Tiberius. Somewhat farther off, the beautiful monument, the round tomb of Cecelia MeteUa adorns the plain; and a half-mile thence stand the little hills, covered with green shrubbeIY, beneath which rises the Spring of Egeria.

We lingered long on this terrace, quietly and happily wandering beneath the solemn shadows of evergreen oaks and olive trees. This villa has a delightfully mild situation, as is proved by the joyful profusion of the tenderest plants. We plucked the fine-leafed myrtle out of boxwood hedges; Venus and Proserpina (said Zoega) culled wreaths of the luxuriant ivy .\Tom the old wall, and robbed the lovely wild olive of its tender shoots, formerly destined to crown the head of the Olympian victor. Ab! I had so heartfelt a sense of well-being, so quiet and holy a mood, in reverent remembrance and the gentle present.

In the darkness of a solemn rotunda, formed by the twining branches of evergreen oaks, [p. 86] stands a magnificent column of Porfiro verda (sic; green porphYIY); the only one of its kind. The view .\Torn beneath this shadow into the gently disappearing blue depths is unspeakably beautiful. We returned home in high spirits. The ivy wreaths, myrtle sprays and olive twigs were shared with the dear sister, and the chamber decorated. Then we took a cheerful meal with our Zoega. Afternoon. It was the Feast of the Apostles, and music in the beautiful church of [St] Andrea delia Valle. I went. But the newer Italian music, for us Northerners, whose ears have been spoiled by the soulful tones of , Gluck., Schulz, Benda, Naumann., Reichard, Kunzen, is mere Klingklang which goes, without maI...'ing any impression., into one enr and straight out the other. Good execution of spiritless tones! The more tasteful Italians, who know how to value ROMAN DIARY, I 23 their nation's old masters, acknowledge that [p. 87] the art of music has migrated over the Alps to Vienna, Berlin and Dresden. I would not like to admit to them that it is no longer found even there any more; that there, too, spiritless tonalluxuIY has expelled high simplicity, and that the serious Muse now floats between heaven and earth with no fixed residence.

Dear Schulz! you are now silent - who will detain the fleeing one? ROMAN DIARY, I 24

BRUN95-V [p.88] v.

The Giustiniani Palace..

(December 1- I 8,1795).

Today with Hirt and the mends. A painting galleIY in the Great Room, .\Tom the period of black shadows and vulgar nature, whose Stygian .\Tenzy [? sfigischer RG1J.~chl took possession of the better artists, even some of the best Here are pieces by Michael Angelo da Caravaggio, Guido, Annibale and Ludovico Carraccio, Hondhorst, and especiaJly Guercino, a full consigrunent! I appreciated the badly lighted room and the overcast day, which carried us rapidly past these aberrations of taste. In one cabinet I found redress; two masterful paintings of a subject that was differently handled by two excellent artists. John [the Evangelist] writes of the soaring eagle, qui plane dans les airs, borne, the Apocalypse: inspiration., at its most exalted moment, animates and deifies eveIY feature of this exalted countenance, and seems to permeate with an ethereal glow the [p.89] whole body of the bold, heavenward-straining youth; the painting is executed in powerful brown mezzotints by Fattore, a pupil of Raphael. To the left, a second John. Here it is a gracious, loving enthusiast, whose softly opened lip breathes enchantment; the lovely face is raised toward the whispering angel, and the shining brow wreathed with golden locks; the angel is a powerful, handsome genius, to whose prompting the tender youth surrenders utterly, with no personal initiative; by Domenichino. In another room we found Adam and Eve, presented with Gessnerlike grace as a lovely idyll by old Franza, Raphael's futherly friend The Giustiniani Palace was built on the ruins of the . They found there a tremendous lot of statues and busts; these, most of which were no longer from a good period, had been restored in the bad times of Alexander Severns [p. 90], with the result that a frightful quantity of the most horrific rubbish is heaped together, in which, however, one espies, like true gold in dross, or like stars of the first magnitude:

L) The so-called basalt Alexander. In Hirt's opinion., Memnon the Ethiopian., the son of Aurora; a hero of the Iliad, killed by Achilles at the . A splendid heroic head; but only the head and hair are old. Noteworthy are the embellishments on the cheeks, which one might almost take for a kind of tattooing.

2.) The so-called Vestal; according to Zoega, Juno of Samos. The fuller modeling of

the face, and the powerful breast, are entirely Junonian., and greatly exceed the reticence ( Unenthiillbarkeit) of a Vestal. This is a high-quality work of art in the Stilo llntico secco e [sic] duro; the somewhat angular contours, the straight lines of the garment. like the channeling of a column, did not deceive me, any more than the sharp edges around the eyes and lips. There is in these [p. 91] simple basic forms an accessibility (Enthiillbarkeit) to the highest beauty! Mind and fancy rest satisfied before this high figure, which thought does not bypass, and where perspicacious taste does not misconceive the slight and easily removable crudity. So could only Greeks begin, and, .\Tom the stony ground of physical necessity and esthetic value, raise themselves to that Ullattained height which stands gazed at in astonishment for thousands of years.

3.) A splendid colossal bust of Jupiter Serapis. ROMAN DIARY, I 25

4.) The Apollo Giustiniani, resting, with bound-up hair; he stands between the Stilo antico and sublimo, but closer to the latter. Sweet melancholy is the dominant expression of this head-bust; he seems to be recalling gentle nostalgic airs concerning Daphne's transformation. 5.) The famous Giustiniani Pallas. I must become intimate with her! Strict sober reason is the dominant concept she awakens. Her execution is dIY rather than rough. Seen from the left side, the profile appears in inexpressible grandeur. [p. 92] From the balcony of this room there is the most splendid view of the Pantheon, which one cannot enjoy from below, because it lies so deep down and is so profanely situated between the city markets; as though looking into the darkness of a sacred grove, one looks between the noble columns into the twilight of the peristyle. Only from here can one admire the elegance of the gently elevated portico and the attractive decoration of the frieze. In my dreaming fancy, I moved the tall divine figures, which enchanted me here, back into the niches of the Pantheon! Vengeful Jupiter appeared, armed with lightning bolts, on his chariot of , descending upon the ridgepole of the temple - the present disappeared!

December 2. We made our pilgrimage today to the oldest part of old Rome: to the locality of the Cloaca Maxima and Juturna's Spring, which bubbles out at the foot of the Palatine Hill, and which was the only domestic water source of [p. 93] water-poor Rome. It is named for the sister of Turnus, whom struck down, and was sanctified by the appearance of the Dioscuri announcing victoIY after the battle at Lake Regillus. I can visualize the tall figures of the Colossi of the Quirinal, appearing at the hallowed spot; but their Rome is no more; the flaming strain upward, and the apparition tades away! Nothing remains of the Temple of , which was built on the Palatine.

Our joy and wonderment at finding ourselves in the most ancient Rome was constantly refreshed through each new encounter. Thus we found ourselves at an opening of that powerful human creation, the eighteen-foot deep and wide Cloaca Ma.xima, which underlay and purified the oldest Rome, the gigantic memorial of Tarquinius Priscus. These were Rome's children's games! One can still distinguish the triple arcades ('1 die drey{adzen Hallenreihen) at this spot; they are constructed of gigantic travertine blocks, in the imposing style of the masoDIY of those [p. 94] times! On the way there, through the Arch of Janus, we had seen the site of the Ficus ruminal is (the fig tree of the goddess Rumina). Now we visited the church [known as] Bocca delia Verita [sic]; it stands on the foundations of the Templum Fidei built by Numa. Here, according to an old legend, youths took the oath of citizenship and maidens the oath of fidelity and guarded innocence. A mask of Jupiter Pluvius -- an old manhole cover - now bears the honorable name ofBocca delia Verita. From here we strolled to the Temple of Vesta; it marks the site of [the temple?] erected by Numa, and his house, the later dwelling of the Vestals, stood nearby. This elegant temple, whose remains show us its whole form and arrangement, was built by Domitian. All of the slender Corinthian columns are still standing, although embedded in the walls; between them and the inner Cella there ran a circular vestibule; the sanctuary contained no statue of the goddess, but Vesta was worshiped here in the holy flame as an [p.95] all-animating fieIY power of the earth. If the sanctified flame went out, it could only be relit under the light of heaven. ROMAN DIARY, I 26

But there existed also a second Temple of Vesta in old Rome, between the Forum and the Campo Boario; there the goddess was worshiped in her own form (im Bilde). Here, in our [temple], the Palladiwn, the house god of Aeneas, was preserved. The temple was encased from within in white marble; this was covered with mortar and painted with the story of the flight of Aeneas. Through the vestibule we mounted a narrow winding stair inside the columns into a couple of pretty, veIY pretty little rooms, which have the bad reputation of being used by the worthy fathers of the present church for parties fines, quite inconsistent with the holiness of the place; this indeed was one of the sharpest contrasts between what was and is, in which Rome is so superabundantly rich.

Now we drove up the Aventine, on whose summit with its wide view stands the Priory of the Maltese [ Order].

[p.96] Priory of Malta. What always remains incomprehensible to me is how anyone, amid the monwnents of ancient art, with their simplicity and dignity, is able to bring forth such miserable, tasteless foolishness as Piranesi's decoration of the forecourt of the Pri0IY, or the statues of the Angels' Bridge [p.nte Sant'Angelo]. Astonishing, none the less, is the view of St. Peter's dome as seen in perspective .\Torn the portals of this building, between the green walls of the garden hedges; but uniquely impressive is the view down and around .\Torn the steep summit of the prioIY garden!

Beneath us flowed the Tiber; beyond the stream rises the long hackbone of the Janiculus, with all its churches, palaces and villas. There to the left, the quiet slope of the hill is cultivated like a garden, with vineyards, orchards and olive groves. The most picturesque of all groups of trees is situated between Pietro Montorio and Aqua Paolo; while on the brow of the hill the cypresses of Villa Millini preen themselves, and below us to the right floats [p. 97] upon the heaven-mirroring stream the white ruin of the Pans Aemilianus, built by Scipio A.\Ticanus (now the Ponte Raffa); and closer beneath us is the Pons Suhlicius ofHoratius Codes.

Opposite us in the present-day Ripetta was the camp ofPorsenna - I looked for the general's tent, and the fire-basin ofScaevola. There between Rome's heaped-up houses rises in modesty the stepped roof of the Rotunda; and fur off above the city and its empty Campagna, glitter in the sunshine the snow hills above Subiaco. Now we glided rapidly through the church on the western slope ofthe Aventine; here empty stillness receives us! The Pyramid [of Cestius], the jewel and adornment of the locality; the quietly greening Monte Testaccio, the gray Basilica of St. Paul [Outside the Walls], and the silently gliding Tiber form a melancholy ensemble c.omparable only to itself! We descended the Aventine, in heavenly pure warm air, and lingered among the graves of the foreigners, [and] by the Pyramid, 11 [p. 98] which set as touching a goal for today's inexpressibly interesting excursion, as it [the pyramid] had unexpectedly become the career path (Laufbahn) of so many a hopeful youth!

"Caius Cestius, Jupiter's table-setter, lived in the time of Augustus. The Pyramid, which defies the millennia, was built in 330 days to house his body. ROMAN DIARY, I 27

A gentle cheerfulness eddied around us; these mild Ausonian [Italian] airs wafted memories to us, heightened by the immediacy of tender and true fuendship; and we heartily thanked our true Hirt for the noble enjoyment of this day, in which with such true feeling all the objects of instruction had been assembled for us in a wreath ofbeantiful eurhythmia. After the meal I hurried away from the bustle of my dwelling, and of the , and saw the sun sinking amid tlle rushing of the cascade of Aqua Paolo. Rome's evening scenes will remain eternally unforgettable to me- as, in the center of the city, first the ruins, then the cupolas, then the nearer and farther [p. 99] hilJs compete to catch the last ray of sunshine, until twilight, shadow, darkness cover past, present and nature!

December 3. Another extensive pilgrimage, and this time among graves in the narrower sense -- for truly Rome itself is just a huge mausoleum!

We drove out through the Porta Capena, where gruesomely arise on the left the vast ruins of the Imperial Palaces, overgrown with Immriant green, and where the Cactus Opuntius trails its picturesque tendrils (? Vorgrzmd-Pflanze) over the walls. Soon arise .\Tom the open country on the right the ruins of the Baths ofCaracalla in heaped-up, powerful masses. We halt at the church of San Sebastiano on the , where ruined tombs are aligned, inhabited by a starving populace, and the whole plain around is bestrewn with ruins. Single columns of red granite stand by the roadside, now [p.lOO] hung with the accessories of Christ's passion. From this church one descends into the Catacombs, which do not correspond to the prevailing conception. They seem to me to be quarries irregularly hewn out of this very ancient volcanic soil.

Some of the stories of these subterranean labyrinths are even more fughtful than the labyrinths themselves. A goldsmith entered one of the mouths ofthis network in Frascati in the hope of finding treasure, but lost his way and emerged the following evening in the VilJa Medici, where the men working in the garden took the deathly pale and disfignred apparition for a ghostly visitor; so this underworld extended twelve or fifteen miles under the earth! A monstrous thought, but perhaps also -- that the old volcanoes formed many of these hollows.

Circus of Caracalla. So called, but actually the tomb of a private person, whose name is unknown, to whom the circus belonged and to whom the [p. 101] customary funeral games (especially the chariot races) were dedicated. The form of the building is noble, and similar to that of the Pantheon. The vestibule is now an occupied house. Around the center of the building ran a powerful vault, in the walls of which were niches for the sarcophaguses. Now, this vault was a stall, and a solitaIY black pig sacrificed grunting to the Manes. The second floor was a rotunda, whose form and space were still preserved in their entirety, but whose roofhad fallen in. Here in a circle of niches stood the family portraits, like the gods in the Pantheon. Beneath were arcades in which stood the horses and chariots, all of them dedicated to Neptune. Romulus' entertainment for the Sabines is said to have already taken the form of circular games, and .\Tom Rome's cradle the following circuses emerged: Circus ofTarquinius Priscus; the , between the Palatine and Aventine (and ultimately enlarged under Trajan to a capacity of 350,000 persons); Circus Flaminius on the Campus Martius; [p. ROMAN DIARY, I 28

102] that of Nero near St Peter's; the one near Hadrian's Mausoleum; that of Sallust near his gardens on the Pincio, where the Villa Ludovisi now stands. We looked at the ruins of the villa of the man to whom the tomb apparently belonged, and which lie scattered about on the little hills. The obelisk of the was found in this circus, like all the other obelisks in other circuses.

We now drove farther along the Appian Way, which for twelve miles, as far as Albano, was adorned with tombs of eveIY kind, decoration and style.

Capo di Bove (Tomb of Cecilia Metella).

Tomb of Cecilia Metella, wife of Crass us, who was slain by the Parthians. The base of square-hewn travertine blocks is huge; from it lightly rises the powerful tower as far as the delicate round frieze, decorated with handsome bulls' heads, for which the monument is now named. Upon the tower was formerly a round terrace, where the [p. 103] commonplace Gothic battlement is now stuck on; from the Middle Ages, when this tomb, like so many others, was misused as a fortification. We went inside. The shell here is tremendous, and the nucleus (the inner tomb hall) small like that of a coconut; but with a ghastly beauty (schauerlich schOn), and at the same time picturesque as the daylight fell from above through the creeping vegetation that grew about the round opening. Here in the neighborhood are shown also the ruins of the tomb of the Servii.

Continuation of the Circus of Caracalla. From this side near the Metella tomb is the most convenient entry into the interior of the Circus, by the real ancient entrance, where were the chariot arcades, and where on both sides of the oblong square ran the wall with the Planum indinatum on which the seats were arranged; below, the sheltering Podium was extended as in the amphitheater; but this circus held 18,000 people. Lengthwise through the middle ran the Spina, [p. 104] but in such a way that there remained a large space above, where the chariots entered and departed, and a small room below by the Porta Triumphalis. Above was the goal, the Meta, at the end ofthe /:"pina, but attainable only after three circuits. The Spina was a broad wall on which were exhibited the insignia (? Feier) ofLeda (in honor of Castor and Pollux), the Dolphins (in honor of Neptune), an obelisk, statues of the gods, and likenesses of the dead; these last were first borne around in a solemn procession in front of the spectators, and placed on the Spina; then sacrifices were made to them, and they watched the games. Opposite the end of the Spina and the Meta was the Emperor's loge; 100 chariots drove here, twenty-five of each color; and four contestants .\Tom each, making twenty victors. In front of the chariots were harnessed two, four, six to twelve horses. Here, eighty defeated contestants slipped away unnoticed to the Porta Libitina - but there at the Porta Triwnphalis, twenty victorious palm-bearers proudly drove out! Those [p. 105] to the left and right, these straight ahead, toward the exit. '2

We, too, left by the Triumphal Gate, which seemed to us like a higher emblem of the

12Should I have here misunderstood something, I beg friend Hirt's pardon! I say what I know, until he silences all lay persons with his long-promised work On the Architecture of the Ancients. ROMAN DIARY, I 29

future; hand in hand, deeply moved and much rejoiced by the vivid impression of a circus and its games which we had received today through the care and fidelity of our Hirt: Soutenans nous dans Za carriere, Za victorie est au biltl [sic). And now we visited the lonely Elmo VaHey, where breathes all melancholy repose. Like an image of , the lazy brook glides hence between reedy banks!

The Grotto of Egeria.

Picturesque is its vaulting, overgrown with rank vegetation and wreathed with shrubbeIY; but the mournful [p. 106] spring runs impeded and uncared-for through the mud and crumbling mortar of the vault; where, in the depths of the grotto, it trickles out of a niche, mild nature has adorned the deserted spot. The tender Adianthum twines itself with trembling dew pearled arms about the lonely nymph. Good Numa, ifI lived in Rome, I would become the caretaker of the sacred spring! This grotto is the ruin of a temple of the Muses .\Torn the time of Au"oustus, and Egeria was honored here as a tenth Muse; now, a mutilated statue of the old river-god Elmo occupies her place in the central niche of the enclosure. Bare and sad is the surrounding locality, with not even a tree nearby, to say nothing of Numa's sacred grove; yet the immediate surroundings of the grotto are veIY picturesque.

We also saw, before returning to the city, the ruins on the right of a little temple; dedicated, according to some, to the god Ridiculus, by others to the fortunate reentIY after Hannibal's withdrawal, or to the Fortuna muliebris after Coliolanus' reconciliation. PresWllably [p. 107] at one time a tomb -- but pro tempore a pigsty.

With reverence we lingered before the old Capenian Gate (Porta capena), where the triumphal Arch ofDrnsus still stands nobly; overarching the way was the section of an aqueduct, whose pipe-hole (Rohrenloch) is still visible at the side. EveIYwhere among these ruins we found a joyful vegetation; on the bare fields in the Circus, a thick green turf swelled under our feet. The grass in these unmO"'TI meadows rots unused, and pollutes the air around Rome.

December 5. The Palatine HilL We spent a splendid morning on the Palatine Hill; a cool Tramontana was blowing; blue was the sky, and mendly the December sun; the omnipresent green meadows around Rome, and the luxuriant shrubbeIY of these gardens of ruins, smile with ever- renewed charm; these [p. 108] delightful wild thickets, in which the visitor wanders about on winding half-lost footpaths amid the gigantic ruins of the imperial palaces. Today we climbed the hill on the subterranean foundations (? SubstnlCtionen) on its western side; then through half-ruined arches between devastated walls and across rubbish heaps to the brow of the hill, where one suddenly looks down into the vast space of the Circus Maximus, now industriously cleaned up and filled with vegetable gardens. Directly below us was the Imperial Loge - (one stiH recognizes, in embracing the whole layout with a single quick glance, the elJiptic-al form, dimly marked by the heaped-up earth ofthe circumference, and senses the long extended Spina); -- to the right, at ROMAN DIARY, I 30

the end, still stands one of the signal towers where the signal to begin was given when the Emperor arrived.

Around us was the most lovely plenitude of shrubbeIY run wild: blooming Citysus (or rather colutea), seed-bearing Antirrhinum majuy, aloe plants eVCIYWhere; majestically, on the right, the Tiber beneath us, [p. 109] with Ponte Sesta [sic: Sisto}; far off over the long valley of the Aventine, the Maltese PrioIY. The and St. Peter's hill rise majestically, and in the emptiness to the left, the Pyramid [of Cestius], as unique as it is lonely, next to he old city wall of Aurelian; there, down from the summit valley (Gipfrlthal) of the Alban Hills, happily and greenly shining like an Alpine meadow, the Campo d'Annibale.

Now, through laurel-rosemaIY-Ci(l'sus-and-vibumum shrubs, past many a deep and open pit and overgrown abyss, we made our slippery way to the southern, quite unencumbered platform of the hill, carefully led and guided by our Femow. Here one seems still to see the ground covered with ancient marble paving (A1armorguss), on which the Emperors strolled at evening through airy corridors. This view is one of the most charming in Rome! The bright green pines of Villa Mattei are swept by our peaceful gaze; farther off; brilliantly ensconced in the cheerfulness of heaven, the snow-covered [p. 110J chain of the Apennines; sunk between the spurs of the hills, the Vale ofPraeneste. The pines and cypresses ofthe villas above Frascati, and even the forest tips on the summit of Monte Cavo, were visible in the clear distance.

In front of us shines the Coliseum in full splendor, and nearer at hand the stands solemnly. How picturesquely the black oak grove ofSt. Pietro in Vincolis [sic) emerges from the cloister walls.

Porta Capena, Metella Tomb, gigantic masses of the Baths ofCaracalla! Who can take it all in at once? We rested in the lovely Villa Magnani, still nestled in the ruins of the Palatine like a violet among Alpine detritus. Here I sat for a long time on a marble balustrade, where feet of marble statues were incorporated into the masonry beside me; sad souvenirs of the long barbarian interregnum! [p. 111] But above me, a ftagrant lemon tree cast its shadow and lowered its ftuit-Iaden branches; the sun shone so wann and life-giving on the dark green-shining foliage -- Oh good Mother Nature! You work beneficently in ever friendly mildness, unheeding ofthe chaotic times that darkly past you! Some .\Tesco paintings by Raphael's pupils decorate the vestibule of this decrepit and abandoned villa; and, though much damaged and faded, still bear the traces of their noble origin.

In the kitchen garden are two deep holes like wells; they are the openings of the subterranean Baths of the Empresses, into which one peers down as into graves - and now sees with astonishment that the whole garden is actually a terrace sustained by huge supporting structures. We returned via the Farnese Gardens, got back into our carriage near the Arch of Titus, and still saw by this fine sunlight the one beautiful and most [p. 112] picturesque ruin of the Minerva Medica on the Esquiline.

In the afternoon we visited Michael Angelo's Moses in the church of[San] Pietro in ROMAN DIARY, I 31

Vincolis. It is a powerful and splendid faun's head, to which breach of taste (MissgrifJ) the great artist may well have been misled by the attribute of the horns. The stance is imposing, the body like that of a Titan, the beard intolerably long. In this church are veIY fine antique columns ofPentelic marble, which, according to the received opinion., were brought by SuUa from Athens to Rome. Pentelic marble is here also called Zippolino; the ten columns of the Temple of Faustina are also of this material. Parian marble was more suitable for sculptural purposes, for which the Athenians used the marble of the hill of Pent he Ie only because of its convenient proximity. They showed me numerous quartz veins in Pentelic marble; the work on these colwnns is attributed to the time ofPericJes. Today I dreamed away the sunset hour [p. 113] in the arena of the Coliseum and then by the columns of Jupiter Stator, which rose slenderly in the glow of evening, and then wandered around for a while in the Campo Vaccino.

December 6. The Palatine HilL

The Villa Magnani (now Brunati).

Am I right? You will gladly accompany me once more to the Palatine Hill? - As with me, eveIY beautiful hour binds you more intimately to the place, or the object, that prompted it? To him who enjoys with the soul, the .\Tuit ofmemoIY always ripens where the bloom of the present buds -- and only he is at home in Hesperia [Italy]. Today your loved ones wandered together; the weather again was splendid, and Hirt was our companion. I mention this so that today you wiJ] piously believe in each of my words as in an oracle -- as I do with Hirt. Now, hear!

[p. 114] We first descended .\Torn the vegetable garden into the subterranean chambers I had glimpsed yesterday. These were the women's baths; and this one belonged specificaHy to the beautiful, unfortunate Juli~ the daughter of Augustus. Still recognizable on the walls are the niches in which formerly stood the porphYIY bathtubs we still see so splendidly in the M.P.CI. [Museo Pio-Clementinol Smaller niches were for statues. One still sees clearly the rounded form of the vaults. But they have been robbed of aU decoration., and even the marble has been clawed off the walls -- for a Frenchman (not yet a New Frank, though worthy to be a reborn one) lived in this villa, discovered the baths and aU their beauties, kept silent as a mouse, and had statues, decorations, etc. quite secretly conveyed to the Tiber and from thence onward, it is said, to Toulouse!

We saw also a vault of the kind that were called Laconicum or steam bath. Then we climbed up and [p. 115] wandered in the former Gardens of Adonis, where artichokes and lettuce now grow, to a point where, sitting on a marble wall, one overlooks the site of the former Hippodrome in its elliptical form. To the right we looked into the three immense chambers of the Imperial Loges, and, through this emptiness, into a delightful Roman distance, in which the picturesquely grouped foothills rise in a gradual splendid ascent to the heaven-high mountains. Opposite us can still be identified the crescent-shaped form of the Exedra by its decayed and wavering walls, where Virgil once read to Angustns and Olivia that canto of the Aeneid in hearing which the latter, overcome by grief for Marcellus, sank down in a faint ROM.AN DIARY, I 32

Description 01 the Library alTerence.

There on the left, where the cloister and other houses now stand on the ruins, [p. 116] was this wonder of art. Around the building [on the outside] ran a hall supported on the inside by 150 columns of Punic marble. In the niches formed by the intercolwnnar spaces stood beautifully wrought statues of the 50 daughters of Dana us. The doors were encased in decorative sheathings of gold and ivory, presenting the story of Niobe; on the facade (Frontispiz) stood Halios (Helios) on the sun-wagon. Around the altar stood four bronze bulls, a work of . Apollo, as Musagetes [leader of the Muses], [stood] in the sanctuary between the statues of his mother a nd sister. From the vestibule extended on either side the rooms of the IibraIY. Now, only the beautiful palm of the Palatine still stands greenly above the ruins!

Northern Side 01 the Palatine. Here were the porticos beneath whose pillared halls the Emperors, even at noontide, enjoyed eternal cooling, looking down as rulers upon the Queen of Cities. There beneath the Capitol stood Romulus' [p. 117] house, then his temple, in the ruins of which was found the She-wolf of the Capitol, [and which is] now the church of St. Theodore. We followed the shaded path along the foundations. How wildly these darkening halls have been overgrown by the luxuriant fullness of the most joyfUl vegetation! The tender Adianthum trembles over eveIY jet of water from the fountains, and hangs down on every damp wall. In the shadow stands with shining dark leaves the Acanthus, and the rose-red fruit of the Evonimus Europeus opens its flower-like capsules, which hang in pretty clusters on the greening bush. Here we came to the steep northwestern slope of the hill, where the house of Valerius Publicola stood. Beneath was the overgrown hollow of the Lupercalia. Near here, we saw the place .\Tom where Caligula had the bridge built to the Capitol; directly opposite is the Tarpeian Rock. How lllany places for thought, hereabouts, does the eye find and the heart feel! Wandering around the Palatine is unique in that [p. 118] one takes in all Rome, from the cradle to the grave, in a single look around. Most picturesque from here is the position of the ruined Temple of Concordia, on the slope of the Capitoline Hill. Camil1us' and Cicero's shadows were about me. There rises into the air the high terraced hill of the , like a green island; there sways airily the Colonna pine borne on its high trunk:, and St. Peter's stands, like a second Simon [sic} Stylites, on Trajan's Column.

Now lied the friends into my favorite sanctu3IY of the Farnese Gardens. How invitingly stands the open sarcophagus there, supported by old marble fueze joists! - w-hat an enviable resting place for the long sleep, under the holy shade of these evergreen oaks, beside the lost lisping of the fountains! It is impossible that the thought of dying should not take pleasurable possession of anyone in Rome, where are so many charmingly opened graves! How touching, under the thick crown of oaks, is the [p. 119] view downward to the deeply sunken Forum, to the mighty arches of the Temple of Peace, to the rising majesty of the Coliseum, and, past the ruins of the Baths of Titus, to the far-offhilJs!

December 18. I have made a long pause; for I was ill, really ill; and without Domeier's faithful care, without his genius- like penetration into my whole physical and moral condition, my way to the Pyramids would perhaps already have been accomplished! But I am still here, though still ROMAN DIARY, I 33

withoutjoie de vivre -- where will I find that again?

Villa Mattei. Sick and melancholy, I fled thither with my dear, even sicker and more melancholy Zoega. At the foot of the Palatine, between it and the wall of the Villa Mattei, stands a fine old flying buttress or pier-arch (Schwibbogen), the Arcus cOllsularis, which holds the oldest [p. 120] local inscription, and the only one .\Torn the times of the already dying Republic. It is from Dolabella, Cicero's son-in-law. Here are also the remains of the subordinate aqueduct which Nero had connected to that of Appius Claudius Caecus. From the terrace of the Villa Mattei there is a fine view of that part of the Algidus which was called Tusculum, and where Cicero's Tusculan villa lay beneath the present Aldobrandini villa. There still flows a spring which bears the name of Aqua algida. Beneath tall cypresses, beside a lonely meadow, stands a melancholy but veIY beautiful colossal bust of Augustus. In the middle of the meadow stands an ancient marble sarcophagus with a bas-relief of the Muses of Socrates and Homer. A lonely ivy shoot had taken root in the tlat earth, without finding any nearby tree trunk to support it; it twined itself up onto the sarcophagus itself, and its gently bent-over tip fonned a charming wreath rigl1t over Homer's bald head [p. 121] We were touched to see the immortal poet receive the rewarding wreath after thousands of years .\Tom the hand of his divine nurse. 13 From this delightful meadow one enjoys a beautiful view in the western distance.

On the way back we lingered before the Obelisk of the Lateran. It adorned the Circus Maximus, was born in Thebes, and was the last one brought from Egypt to Rome. From the steps of the Lateran one has not only one of the most beautiful, but also one of the most informative views into the earliest field of histoIY, if one goes with Zoega's guiding hand. He showed and named to me the small territories of the populations which young Rome little by little devoured. On the Algidus, Alba Longa, capital of the Latins; behind the mountain, the land of the [p.122] Volscians: c

13See Fr. Stollberg's Hymn: The Birth of Homer. ROMAN DIARY, I 34 BRUN 95-VI [p. 123] \II.

(December 19-29, 1795)

December 19,1795.

I was too weak to undertake anything, too exhausted to feel worthy of any great sight-so for once I plwnped down with eye and sense into the new Rome, which, to ten the truth, have overlooked up to now as though I were among the mins of Palmyra. So, I took a cab ride (kutschierte) in the heart of new Rome, a great part of which stands on the campu~ Martius of the old one. Here there is little joy and much stink, the more so as today is a fast day. On such days, the poor folk live mostly on rotten fish, cabbage soup and furinaceous foods, which are soaked in bad oil and broiled. An cookshops, mobile street ovens and house corners exude these pestiferous odors; and yet Rome could be more easily kept clean and fresh than any other city I know. From the old aqueous opulence of the aqueducts and [p. 124] baths, well-supplied fountains and springs have developed eveIYwhere, even in the most out-of-the-way quarters; but these are mostly so unsuitably designed that animals can seldom, and people only with much inconvenience, get at the water; for which reason the Roman people have dedicated the pompous and veIY superfluous steps of the fountains as their Petits-Lien>:. Splendid are the rich water-bursts of St Peter's Square, and I am never tired oflooking at the fantastic , that heaped-up (zusammengebir&'f'e) child offantasy. Would that they had had the courage of simplicity, and had let the precious Aqua Paoli rush down in a single stream instead of splitting it into four separate channels! Among the great fountains, I like least that of the Piazza Navona.

Decembe r 20. Zoega, Domeier and r today took our dear Pfaff to the Corsini Garden; we drove past the basilica of Marcus Aurelius, [p. 125] which stands at the foot of Monte Citorio, and supports with its Corinthian columns the new Dogana [custom house], in which the foreigners win hardly encounter Marcus Aurelius' fairness and good nature! I rode out of the garden and up to the bosket or thicket that covers the steep ascent, in hopes of [enjoying] the famous view .\Torn the Corsini Casino; it must deserve its reputation, judging by its situation on the Montorio and its considerable altitude. But the fog was implacable, flowing through the air like halfcurdled milk, in which the tower-pinnacles and dome-lanterns, and the statues on the columns, swam about, as Domeier said, like drowned wasps. Our dear Swabian, to whom we had promised to show the riches of the world and the splendor thereof (in expectation of a transfigured noon hour) put on an extremely tragicomic air at this scene .\Torn the territoIY of Jupiter Scirocco! Hardly had we gone down the hill, when [p. 126] the cleared to spite us! So we drove our friend to the Villa Borghese, where the friendly sunshine had assembled Rome's beau monde in whyskys, phaetons, sparkling coaches, on horseback and on foot! There also appeared some newly arrived Parisian beauties, who, in Rome, like a drop in the ocean, contribute the ruin of their fortune alld their charms to the great display of the transitoriness of all earthly greatness. All my Roman acquaintances are unanimous in their reports on the unmannerliness, immodesty, incivility and crudeness of the -Roman matrons. How badly, unpleasantly, and often even vulgarly ladies from the upper classes speak their noble tongne! Only in the middle class does one occasionally find a somewhat cultivated woman., as well as traces of domestic happiness, and often examples of the most tender sibling love; for it happens ROMAN DIARY, I 35 veIY often here, that in bourgeois families the oldest son remains unmarried in order to support his sister's children [p. 127] when her husband is either unable or unwilling to earn a living. This nepotistic love extends from the Papal See all the way down into the bourgeois and popular classes, where it often appears as the most sacrificial tenderness. Thus, for example, the Abbe Giunto-Tardi, the noble and charming preceptor of my son - a young man who, thanks to his unusual cleverness, his talents, and above all the excellence of his moral character, would have a claim to everything, and could support without anxiety a finnily of his own - [but] actually lives only for the children of his siblings, especially those of his tenderly beloved sister. December 2 I.

I rode today .\Tom the Porta Pia to the Pons Nomentanus. The view of this now desolate scene, so animated in ancient times, induces a quiet, melancholy wonderment which is not without chann. The air was [p. 1 28] clear; the Teverone flowed quietly, like my thoughts, and with its fresh green the Sacred Mountain recalled the legend of prehistoric times. ViJla Albani.

Second Visit. From there I rode to Villa Albani. Here one enjoys a quite new view of the hills, which present themselves in a magnitude and order such as I had never yet seen. Here 1 went as it were hand in hand with my beloved WinckeJmarm, \vhose flaming words of enthusiasm sounded constantly around me. I remained longest before the colossal bust of Pallas, which is a new ideal of my inner spirit. Today I was with dear Zoega; the first time I was alone, and so sick that I turned around. I immediately sought out my Pallas in the loge of the loftily beautiful columned passage of this noble villa; it is a masterpiece of the Stilo sublimo. How beautiful is the unrestored right cheek -- [p. 129] how strong the full head ofhair, strained back beneath the helmet -- how .\Teely the head is carried by the juicy (sajivoll) neck -- how tenderly the goddess's far-hearing ear is formed! Free and powerful breathes the invulnerable breast beneath the snake twined Aegis! the only bosom on earth, in high Olyrnpus, and even in the shadow kingdom, which the arrows of the little distance marksman [Cupid] never struck! To him, honored by all living creatures, only this proudly vaulted temple of wisdom remained closed. Unembarrassed, serious, yet mild, she gazes from wide-open eyes. So appeared to me the Pallas Albani; I would have liked to bring her forthwith a violet wTeatb and olive spray, to the lovely peace bringer and friend of quiet womanly joys; for the high quiet of wisdom is deeply imprinted on this augnst visage.

In the peristyle stands also an unusual statue ofDomitian, a physiognomical masterpiece of secret malignity.

In the garden Zoega showed me, on a little antique sarcophagus, the following lovely [p.130] bas-relief: On it is represented an opened circus and chariot race, led by genii; lacking is only the palm-bearing victor -- for the deceased was a child. How tenderly and truly felt! Here stand also, in two neighboring niches, the colossal busts of Trajan and Titus. Nature had not given them the impress of their inner being as their endowment on the throne. How high and tenderly, on the other hand, does humanity speak to us from the features of the Antonine! We now entered the main building; eveIY corner here was holy to me! Here Winckelmann bad lived, thought, felt, worked! And I hastened straight to Winckelmarm's Antinous, the famous high reliefl Dear, thoughtful Winckelmann., how could this brainless, ROMAN DIARY, I 36 chubby-faced youth enrapture you?l4 He is puffed out as with milk and roBs, and for the first time I recognized here, [p. 131] in the unidealized portrait of Antinous, the favorite of Hadrian. Large Room alRaphael Mengs.

Pallas armed, with spear in hand. Great style in the fine garment; magnificent head; only, for me, not the goddess of wisdom, rather an armed Juno. There is something of ostentatious greatness in this splendid statue, which is not appropriate to the high seriousness of a Pallas. Leucothea, a nymph, or Ino, sister of Semele, with young Bacchus on her arm; one of the most charming groups .\Tom antiquity; a Greek Madonna! This virginal wet-nurse does appear with loosened girdle; but how pure are these deflowered forn1s, joined with the most obliging liberality! 15 How lovingly the beautiful head on its swanlike neck bends down to the beloved nurseling; how lightly and securely she bears the lovely child in her left arm, as it disarmingly strains upward to her with its little head and hand [p. 132] in trying to reach these sweetly smiling lips. This is Greek in feeling, and represented wholly without ostentation; touching truth united with exalted beauty. Famous ceiling by Mengs. Mnemosyne, the mother of the Muses, is received as the tenth Muse. Here I found it equaBy difficult to praise or to blame, but impossible to feel. The Apollo seemed to me a finely colored ApoUino. The facial formations of the Muses are aU as beautiful as cold! I have never seen brighter and fresher colors; but they seem to me, especially in the heads, to lack the hannony of life. But I don't like the sub.iect at all! I do not like to think ofMnemosyne's daughters as her judges, nor to see the beautiful and true relationship of MemoIY to each of the arts and sciences inhibited for a moment

In the next room is a splendid bas-relief, apparently representing Antiope with her sons; it is in the old Greek style, sober [p. 133] and full of restrained feeling. On the stairway, another charming relief is built into the wall. Leucothea, with Bacchus in her lap; about her, serving ; the figure standing before her is full of grace. We lingered for some time on the balcony outside this room, held fast by the most splendid view. Zoega showed me, on a foothill to the right of tlle Alban Hill, where the little town of Collona now lies, the site of the ancieut Labicum; farther to the right on the Alban Hill, the approximate site of Alba Longa. In .\Tont of us, numerous ruins were strewn over the landscape and bear the name of Rom a Vecchia. There, between the two old highways (Labicana and Preneste), lies a large ruin called Torre dei Schiavi. Concerning these two groups of ruins there is no definite opinion.

December 22. In divinely beautiful weather I visited [p. 134] my dear mend Electra, in the Casino Ludovisi; I always hope she will one day break her long silence for my sake and tell her friend all the suffering of her high souL The handsome Theseus here also becomes ever dearer to me!

"The work on this bust is excellent. the end. See the vignette at

leThe original German reads as follows: Diese Jungfrau-Arnrne erscheint zwar mit gelostem Gurtel; aber wie rein sind diese entknospeten Formen bey der gefalligsten Ergossenheit! Translator's note.) ROMAN DIARY, I 37 How you would smile at the enthusiast, if you saw me, charmed and solitaIY, wandering among these exalted figures, ftom whom I would oh! so gladly wring speech, and who, even though silent, radiate so much intelligence that I greatly prefer them to most articulate company. This Theseus, like Orestes and Electra, has the fine Greek ear; which beauty, as you know, I prize very highly, as I have often found it even more characteristic than the finest rosy lips. The genuine Greek statues always possess this fine allurement

The view .\Tom the roof of the Casino was exquisite today. But you know it. In the evening, in splendid moonlight, I made a lengthy excursion, first to Monte Cavallo. Did you ever see the Colossi in the [p. 135] silver light of the moon? The horses snorted, the youths seemed to breathe, inspired by the full streaming gloIY of the moonshine. Viewed from the shady side, they looked like noble Ossianic spirits.

But why do they look up at the dead palace? Why not downward into the Vale of the Quirites? We drove the lonely way past the Baths ofDiocletian to the Coliseum, and twice, thrice around it EveIY moment creates a new scene, where silver floods and black nocturnal cinders seem to sift through the vaults, and eveIYthing seems now to rise in the air, now to sink into eternal darkness; then back via the Campo Vaccino, where shudder after shudder continually ran through me, and the past - even if I spent my life in Rome -- would never be displaced by the present Cardinal Spinelli was buried today in the Church ai Apostoli, where Ganganelli also lies.

We went, hoping to see a solemn [p. 136] ceremony. But all these corteges are handled ery cavalierly in Rome! Never did I see priests and monks doing their office with less dignity. The corpse was placed in the midst of the beautiful, totally black-draped church, on whose decoration they were still hammering before his veIY ears! The candle-bearing monks miserably bawled out their litanies! The servants of the graybeard stood with torches around the open coffin, laughing and joking. Awesome, nevertheless, was the effect of the moonlight, which fell through the high windows into the raven-black depths of the church.

December 23. I drove out to see a few churches. In the Madonna di Loretto, on the Square ofTrajan's Column., is a statue ofSt. Agnes by Fiammingo, whose beautiful Cecilia I had already admired. This, too, is a gracious, virginal being, full of quiet grace. Charming is the gentle [p. 137] head with the parted, wavy hair; the neck and its position are full of sweetness. Incomparably beautiful is the right shoulder, the tender breast, and the beautiful lowering of tlJe arm with the palm branch; to judge by the upper part, they could have told me this lovely work was antique. But the deception dissipates as soon as one notes the false and UTffi10tivated posture, and the folds of the garment over the hips and the lower part of the body.

The Church of the Giesu [sic: GesuJ is a great, tastelessly dec-Orated ostentation chamber.

In [Santa] Maria Sopra Minerva, we visited the Christ Bearing the Cross of Michael Angelo. The head is fine, and full of inward nobility and powerful endurance. Not less beautiful is the whole posture of the excessively detailed body, \vhich, like the statue of Moses, seems to lack the epidermis (F etthaut) that veils the play of muscles and nerves.

Ara Coeh. This church of the Capitoline [p, 138] Hill occupies the site of the fonner ROMAN DIARY, I38 Temple of Jupiter Capitolinus; in it stand veIY ancient, charred granite columns, of the Doric order and of veIY noble origin, brought here according to tradition from the Temple of Jupiter Olympius.

Then we wandered about the Capitol and looked for the foundation stone of the old building, which is thought to be discernible at the left near the summit as one climbs up from the Campo Vaccino in the direction of the Via Sacra. Ruspigliosi (Rospigliosi) Palace.

The Aurora of Guido still remains, after all, one of the finest creations of fantasy; and I do not need to tell you with what delight my own fantasy lost itself therein! Here Guido [Reni) is right in his own field of lovely twilight feeling; here, where a tender imprecision becomes almost an asset Who can restrain the fleeing Horae, or pin down the changeable ones? Ah! (p. 139J they bring us and alternately rob us of grief and joy! Charm of the entire group, ethereal coloring; beauty of the tawny Hora with the yellow garment; grace of the two last ones - they retain an almost childish innocence. But the Sun God has not yet slept his fill; he is a pitiable Sire, whom I would heartily like to have down from his chariot! But Aurora! What an inimitable floating of the poured-out, mildly broadening figure; how upward- breathing did I feel the gentle shudder of the updraft that raises her garment (wie emporgehaucht,liihlte ich den leisen Schauer des Azifgangs, van dem ihr Gewand geblahet wird). And she herself? Ah! this gentle melancholy visage, this longing glance! Her two hands are full of flowers; they have not yet fallen on the dark earth. "I scatter flowers on the Earth -- but flowers bedewed with my tears!" In this palace stands also the famous basalt bust of Scipio Africanus. Here, too, the venerable skull bears the honorable scar of the Ticino. It is a dear, serious and firm (? vest) countenance, especially [p. 140] interesting in half profile; one of those faces whose nature one would accept on faith -- there is something Old German in this honest face.

December 24. We all were homesick on Christmas Eve! The combined efforts of the noble Luise and myself could only offer the children a rather colorless Christmas celebration; the mother's heart was divided between the near and the distant children; and I myself longed like a child for my own mother!

December 25. We attended the High Service in St. Peter's Church, where I, through the kindness of Cardinal Borgia, that venerable mend of Danes, had a veIY good seat for each changing scene in eveIY act of this religious drama. The appearance of the Pope, carried swaying on a throne beneath the swaying baldachin, is imposing! [p.141] The beauty of this elderly figure, his noble decorum, the splendor of the snow-white gown in which he was swathed, did not fail of their effect on me. But hardly had the god touched the earth, hardly had all these stupid and mindless ceremonies begun, than tl1e brief spell was broken -- to whose duration, moreover, the whole demeanor of the Holy Fathers of the Church contributed nothing; for the pompous processions are being ever more casually carried out, because the more sophisticated (die Gescheuten) undoubtedly feel that the whole business has by now become w1tenable, and among the less sophisticated, hardly anyone is stupid enough to believe any longer in this ROMAN DIA-RY, I 39 foolish tissue of aberrations of the human mind. We went up into the loge above St. Ludovico, one of the four colossal statues on the four main altars which adorn the giant pillars ofthe dome around the high altar. Here we had right before us the Tribuna in which they played puppet games with the Holy Father before the eyes of all Rome. On the back side of the [p. 142] altar was displayed his entire wardrobe of caps (seven, if I am not mistaken), together with a rich silver and gold buffet He himself sat on a throne, to the left of the altar in the Tribuna, and received the homage of all the Cardinals; from time to time he was (I could never understand why) undressed and dressed like a doll, first reverently kissing each new item of his wardrobe, down to the slipper, before it was put on him. Meanwhile there resounded some noisy but insignificant music, accompanied by extremely mediocre singing.

I soon turned my eye and heart away .\Tom this tomfooleIY, which really annoyed me to the point of sadness, in order to lose myself in the fullness of the powerful space, which bold spirits with their gigantic genius knew how to encompass and confine in a harmonious whole. I could see from my unencumbered position into three corners of the crossing; the fourth one, at the base of which I stood, was hidden by the protruding column. The movement of the human masses, like [p. 143] the waves of the sea, and so easily dispersed in this open space, has something magical about it. They expected about 10,000 people in the church today. The noise reechoed as euphony in the upper vaults.

We then visited the little Christmas Eve theaters, which, beginning with this night's birth scene, are still opened and illuminated in the churches, in Francesco a Ripa beyond the Tiber, and then in Ara Coeli on the Capitoline. Here the Bambino lay radiant with jewels, but still couched on straw; the rustic scene was presented with a naivete that is not without charm.

The picture of the young mother, beside the cradle of the newborn Son of love and hope, speaks to every human heart -- and I liked even the honorable long-ear [], who always appears sideways in life size, sympathetically regarding his dear mistress. The children's joy over all this was, as you can imagine, veIY great, and Lotte indicated that such a Bambino would have been a veIY welcome present to her yesterday evening!

[p.144] The Farnesina.

December 26. The ceiling in the Salon is [adorned] with the famous fresco paintings containing the stoIY of Psyche, painted .\Torn Raphael's detailed sketch, and under his supervision, by his pupils, and retouched by Carlo Maratti. Before following this Psyche in her fateful adventures, one must lay aside all touching sensitivity, and quite forget the spiritual Psyche with the buttert1y wings! Here we have a sturdy, full-bodied, but good-naturedly naive count! girl, such as I saw in the grape harvest around Florence; the whole thing is a celebration of a fantasy filled with joyful pictures. How wonderfully beautiful are all these childish genii, fluttering about like little birds in their mischievous games! especially the three who are bearing Psyche in triwnph to Olympus, armed with the box ofProserpina against the anger of the vengeful goddess. The female figures are most [p. 145] voluminously forme-d --- and I make full aUowance here; for they would hardly have emerged so Rubens-like .\Torn Raphael's imagination. Venus, rising in anger to Olympus, is magnificent; she breathes flames! Beautiful in aU the glow of youth and love is the stripling , as he indifferently aims at the poor mortal the arrow which, invisibly reversing, strikes him in the same moment. All the groups are well arranged and thought out ROMAN DIARY, I 40

with much understanding.

Raphael's capricious exuberance is umnistakable in the Council of the Gods. The Olympian ladies, unfortunately, are all more or less ugly and vulgar. Only Athene, who stands there blue-eyed and cheerful as Aether, is tall and lovely to look at. Apollo is handsome and penetratingly intelligent. The jaunty Hercules, who with all possible good nature rejoices "that poor Psyche, like him, after full investigation has made it to the nectar party," is naive to the last degree. Very witty is the [p. 146] trefoil of the three superior (? ehrenvesten) over-gods, whose features show a family resemblance. Neptune is such a doughty sunburned seaman as might have been fished out ofthe Thames. The feast on Olympus, like all court festivals, in spite of the Horae, Graces and Muses and all dazzling splendor, is a little tiresome, especially to the bridal pair. Hebe points out to Hercules the Psyche, who, like him, has been spiritualized by suffering. Luxuriant ftuit and flower garlands assemble the whole panorama of human passions, sorrows and joys in a pleasing whole. Raphael seems to have treated this fable in a rather Lucian-like (lucianisch) way [apparently a reference to Lucian., a second-centuIY Greek writer known for his light touch]. We also visited the monasteIY ofSt. Onofrio, which lies near the outermost tip of the Montorio. This was for the sake of the painting of Torquato Tasso which is preserved there. But the bust (of Tasso), which is thought to be more like him, is kept inside this monkish cloister, where no woman may enter. To place Tasso's bust where no woman can see him is [p. 147] an insult to his genius! Who honored women as he did? The wreath which for one woman attached to the starry bow of heaven, Tasso wound about the entire sex in a variegated efflorescence of higher, gentler and ever more touching femininity! Splendid is the panorama of Rome, beneath the oak upon the terrace; but today it was cloudy and cold. The Vatican.

Raphael's Stanze. December 27. The real goal of our visit today was the Loges [Logge] of Raphael; but the Tramontana blew so bitingly into these open halls, that we entered directly into the sancllJaIY without first acquainting ourselves with the vestibule. We found the lliends - whose lengthy and continuous wanderings I have been unable to follow for some time, but, like an autumn bird, could only enjoy the fairest flowers, ftuits and nuts .\Tom the divine garden [p. 148] of Hesperian art-standing here and there in .\Tont of Theology, Jurisprudence, Philosophy and Poetry. Of our two dear friends, Hirt, the artistic antiquarian, now accompanied the others, and Fernow, the philosophical esthete, attached himself to me. I myself merely gaped like a child, with eyes wide open and mouth scarcely less so.

The wise disposition of the groups, the truth of the figures, the purity of their outlines, the fire, tempered by reason, of their expression--- a rich fullness of the forms, liveliness of expression, and prevailing nobility in the heads, were clear to me eveIYWhere. Here there is no petty coquetry with the colors, which appear only as modest servants of the spirit; here there is no mannered chiaroscuro; eveIYthing is directed less tn the fancy than to the understanding and the feelings. But tlle greatness of the composition, and the inexhaustible creativity of this great genius, are exhibited, as in a magic mirror, in Constantine's Battle. This ,vall contains a whole Iliad.

December 28. ROMAN DIARY, I 41 Today I drove with Zoega out through the Porta Joanna [p.rta San Giovanni?) on the way to Albano. We alighted in the neighborhood of Aqua-Santa, a Roman curative spring, in whose efficacy, however, present-day belief seems to be slight The air was clear, but eveIYWhere noticeably cold; and though at night it .lTeezes only two or, seldom, four degrees, I do not remember ever to have felt colder. But how splendidly the hills present themselves in this Tramontana! The nearby foothills of the Campagna are shrouded in a violet-bluish haze, while the far-off snow-covered mountain chains resemble transfigured beings. Beautiful, .\Tom here, is the view of the great Claudian Aqueduct; like a first aUusion to prehistoric times, the airy pier arches (SchwibbOgen) are drawn across the historic Campagna! Here and there, the restorations [ordered by] the [p.150] are patched together (angeflickt), and there are hovels of poverty, beneath walls that still are useful even in their ruined state. Fragments of grave monuments are visible here and there. The way to the Porta Joanna leads past the former Forwn ofNerva and the three Corinthian colwnns of the Temple of Mars, then past the Coliseum, up the Esquiline, and past the Lateran. Villa Giustiniani.

It lies high up on the Esquiline, and offers a most interesting overview of the great aqueduct and of the subordinate hydraulic installations that supply and are fed by it. The picturesque ruin of the so-called Minerva Medica (a baptistry belonging to the Baths of Titus) arises from its vineyards in the foreground, and the flat- arched roof (das Jlachgewolbte Dach) of this charming octagon is decorated with a wreath of ivy. A single pine tree splendidJy projects its bright green umbrella into the brilliant air. Ruined fragments and arches still hover here and [p. 151} sink there, and shimmering distances appear through the open rooms as through a telescope; in the background shines the snowy Samnite mountain chain. Apart .\Torn its beautiful situation, this vina is noteworthy for the large nwnber of basreliefs which are in part cemented into the outer walls of the house and in part scattered over the garden. All of these treasures of art, now exposed to eveIY insult of the weather, are the side walls of marble sarcophagi. Among their number I name only those which are distinguished by their artistic finish or the beauty of their ideas.

Ceres in the dragon's car; Minerva and Venus; Proserpina is lacking - The daughters of Leucippus, kidnapped at their wedding feast by the Dioscuri; the figures of the fainting maidens, carried offby the heroes, are poured out (hiflgegossefl) with unspeakable tenderness and beauty. -- Achilles among the daughters ofLycomedes; beauty of the composition in this mediocre copy of an outstanding original.

[p. 152} On a sarcophagus in the garden: Adonis separating from Venus; Diana calls him to the tragic hunt; he is wounded. -- On another one: Cupid (Amor) holds the butterfly over the flame; Psyche and Cupid, refining flames oflove and death! -- A naIve representation on a third sarcophagus: the true genius of Love holds his client, in the form of a hunted hare, shyly turned away and anxiously sheltering him; a dog in greedy pursuit leaps to seize him .\Torn behind: Ah! dear companion, you will not save him! - We also found a nice representation ofthe Graces on one sarcophagus, and Apollo, Minerva and the Muses on another.

December 29. During today's noon hour I rode the lonely way which Moritz so loved, from Ponte Molle along the inner bank of the Tiber back beyond Porta del Popolo. The view of Rome [p.153] stretched upon its hins, the towers and domes of the new city, the pleasant Pincio, decorated with the most charming groves of trees, is as wide as it is beautiful. On the right, ROMAN DIARY, I 44

[p.154] vn.

(December 30-31, 1795). December 30,1795.

With the pale dawn of the dying year, your friends were en route under the leadership of Mr. Hirt We went out through the (now San Lorenzo). and immediately got into a bumpy sunken road whose side walls revealed horizontal layers of an old lava tuff. Soon we were in the empty Campagna, having passed the old boundary of SabinuJ1I. the Pons Mummius (now Ponte Mama/e). We lingered by the Lago di Tartari, the swamp of an old sulfur mine. 16 The peculiarity ofthis Stygian pool, with its exhalations of pestilential vapor - namely, its way of cloaking everything in it with a coating of sulfurons ooze, is well known, and the products of this natural factory, under the name of Confetti di Tivoli, are [p. 155) on view in cabinets of natural curiosities even outside of Italy. From this level there is an agreeable upward view of the three Monticelli and the little town of the same name on the middle summit. These foothills have gradually detached themselves and now stand before as though suddenly grown up and free.

About a half hour farther along stands the funerary monument of Marcus Plautius, a fine monument in the style of the Capo di Eove. He was Consul and one of the Priests of Jupiter under Claudius. The inscription says not "that he lived here for nine years," but "that his son of nine years is also buried here." A rapid brook rustles past the monument. Soon afterward we crossed a sulfur-blue canal which drains a second sulfur mine at one side and exhales an intolerable sulfur-liver stench.

Hadrian's Villa.

We had now reached the Villa Hadriani. [p. 156J whose largely inexplicable ruins are strewn so romantically and picturesquely on the gently rising threshold of the mountains. it is difficnlt, even impossible, to find one's way through this labyrinth of ideas which the restlessly journeying Emperor assembled on his travels through Asia, Egypt and Greece and plumped together here. In a space of seven miles [sieben Miglien], this prototype of the modern English garden was subdivided and the architectural styles and buildings of Asia, Greece and especially Egypt were transplanted onto Roman soil.

We saw:

1.) A Roman Theater; the semicircle of the ground-level seats in the amphitheater (now in part) was still very clearly perceptible. The arena of the parterre, and the whole fom1, is still there. We admired the acoustical perfection of this roofless building. When we placed

"'The Albulae of Strabo and . ROMAN DIARY, I 45

ourselves at the highest point, even I, deaf though I am, heard every word which our Roman servant spoke in the arena. It is true that the very beautiful and romantic situation [p. 157] is deliberately calculated to this end. It leans against a hill, green with olives, in which the seats were hewn out; the spectators had a charming view of the Monticelli and Soracte.

2.) The quiet meadows of Thessalian Tempe, formerly divided by the river Peneus, had also been magically brought here from Thessaly by Hadrian; but the time of the Virgils, Horaces, Ovids was no more!

3.) A splendid old vault, where the marble applique (..Marmorstllcc) was stilJ visible.

4.) A long doubled portico, formerly adorned with columns, whose place was now so touchingly occupied by rows of dark cypresses. The immense walls stilJ stand. This was tl1e imitation of the Athenian Ceramikus (Keramiko.~); and deeds offumous Athenians were painted on the walls. We admired the consummate opus reticu/atum (reticuJated work), still derying the elements in the ruins.

5.) A m,yestic half-rotunda, probably originally an imitation of the Prytaneum at Athens. Picturesquely [p. 158J overgrown with wild shrubbery, the min stands there mournfully.

6.) A tribune and space of the courtroom. This is one of the handsomest ruins; the colonnade, overgrown with ivy, is of the highest effectiveness, and young shmbbery proliferates happily at the sides ofthe hall. I have been assured that in the best season, these ruins would be no less remarkable to the botanist than to the architect. Here, lost and lonely, bloom the vestiges of noble plants of Asia and Egypt with which Hadrian adorned his gardens, and which in all Italy are found only here.

7.) A very large round building, thought to be a public dining room.

8.) Very remarkable are the so-called Cento Camerelle (Hundred Cubicles), or the dwellings of tl1e Pretorians, in the basements of a building that is no longer extant. How pure the air was in these roomy chambers, no one of which communicated directly with the other, but where each resident [p. 159] could reach his cell only through an outer gallery which was probably there but has been destroyed without trace. From behind, where they are built into the hillside, these chambers had a double wan with a space betv,een, probably to provide access for a drying current of air. Oh! that we dwellers in the North had learned to fear the damp and to defer to it, as the Ancients did, and the southern nations still do!"

"One hears with ever-renewed pleasure of the wonders of Hadrian's Villa. Actually, it becomes more impossible each year to gain even a shadowy impression of the plan of this microcosm, which the most artistically experienced of all Roman Emperors ROMAN DIARY, I 46

Here [p. 160J your poor exhausted fuend had to let the others go on and return alone to her carriage, where the dear people found me two hours later. During this period I quietly feasted heart and eye on these so touchingly contrasted scenes. The air was mild and the heaven overcast, but with that shimmering brightness which has something so promising about it The olive trees stood scattered about everywhere, dominating the picture of this lonely field. I would like to call this tree which is so dear to me the tree of shadows: [p. 161J first, becanse it is the symbol of peace, which we find only in the kingdom of shadows:

The poor heart here below, Shaken by many a storm, Achieves true peace Only where it no longer beats.

Secondly, because these lightly extended and airy branches, and the pale yellowish green of their little leaves, provide the shadow of a shadow, rather than real shadows; and therefore, just enough for the land where no sun and no moon, no Lucifer and no Hespems shine! Shadow upon shadow, twilight in twilight, the cloud-gray tree sank down. Single cypresses protrude from among the olive trees, and form groups of such melancholy contours and such mourufuJ tints that I, quite lost in dreams, saw floating among them airy pictures which slowly lost themselves in the far-off chambers or walls.

Now the way to Tibur begins [p. 162J to climb along the hillsides, covered with lovely olive groves. Among them, the young herbs are already pressing joyfully upward in preparation to greet the new year. Cheerful red-cheeked girls were collecting the ripe fallen olives - an Hesperian winter scene. But it is vain for a mild heaven to sprinkle its blessings on this unfortunate people. For the oil-press of the oppressed countryman also works for the papal chamber; every barrel of oi} must be dcJivered to it; and the same with wine. There, the mild and pure oil of the more industrious and well-endowed peasants is mixed with the spoiled and rancid oil ofthe negligent or impoverished host in the all-devouring oil cisterns of the Pope, magically assembled here with the aid of the treasures and skills of the Roman macy'ocosm. When PYYTO Ligorio, Michael Angelo's successor in the building of St. Peter's church, in the sixteenth century developed what is even now the only usable plan of this villa, the traces of this wonderful park were much clearer and not so effaced by the endless excavations of later investigators. (One-fourth of all the antiquities in Rome came from the Villa Adriani.) Now that the 30-volume collection of his antiquarian manuscripts, with drawings and plans, has been brought from Turin, where they were almost totally inaccessible, to the National Library in Paris for everyone's use (see Itymar's letter in the Decade philosophique l'an 7. n.19. p.50 ff.j, we too can perhaps also arrive at satisfactory elucidations of these matters, ROMAN DIARY, I 47 where often a small container of spoiled oil will contaminate many tuns of good oil; hence good oil in Rome is a great rarity.

About half-way from Hadrian's Villa to Tivoli, one sees foundations oflarge villas on the higher hill on the right. [p. 163] Here lived the last Romans, Cassius and Brutus. From this already significant height one enjoys a wide view in the Campagna and on Rome. With what feelings must Brutus often have looked down on his sinking fatherland, to which his noble soul struggled to bring the great double death-sacrifice - lost, indeed, for Rome, but not for posterity!

Fled from the dust, his soul Inspirits still the union of the noble!

Tivoli is visible from a distance on the projection of the mountain gap where the Auio flows rapidly forward, hastening into the open plain. The banks rise abruptly over the wa.~hedout depths and faithfully follow the twistings and tumings of the mountain stream, and the houses of the little town follow the gyrations of the banks, so that a semicircle of white buildings looks down abruptly into the depths of the stream bed. We alighted at the end of the town at the place of old Francesco, [p. 164J who received us with cheerful benevolence and presently, with manifest joy, recognized in me la SoreUa del Sigfwre Federigo [MUnterJ - and now led me to the wall, where the worthy Doctor Friedrich Munter had formerly appeared in caricature; he had, however, unfortunately been painted over, like my dear Moritz and many others who had formerly appeared on these walls through the genius of their artistic mends.

I felt intimately at home in this little honse, where so many friendJy spirits had preceded me in the enjoyment of nature and life, fettering the light wings of the present with the solemn wreath of memory. Familiar as I already was vllith the house of old Francesco, its romantic situation nevertheless exceeded all my expectations; and I could not tear myself away from the windows of the corner room, where one sees the Anio from one window as its quietly gliding course suddenly gives place to the great cascade over the broad rock dam, and rp. 1651 then disappears beneath the nearby bridge in the narrow rock gorge. On the left, a smaller arm pours from a darkly overgrown hollow and streams foaming into the depths; beyond the stream, which invisibly churns its way through nocturnal clefts, there lay on the high bank the villa of Manius [sic IV opiscus. Huge foundations still emerge from the rocky banks. For the Roman had built chambers snspended over the very abyss. Behind it, the bare fortress mountain of Monte Cotillo rises high in the air. From the left corner window one sees into the mins of the Vesta Temple, uniquely beautiful in melancholy grace, through what it was and is! Strewn around are the rising mountain heights above the depths ofthe stream; on their slopes are green olive groves, followed by little reddish beechwoods still covered with cinnamon-colored winter foliage.

Our midday meal was very cheerfuJ, though the heaven with its gloomy clouds threatened to fill the sounding grottos of the AIbunea with snow. rp. 166J In the early dusk of the ROMAN DIARY, I 48 short day, we visited Vesta's shrine, which is separated from the house only by a short grape walk. We saw and listened for a long time, leaning on the balustrade of the little platform that overlooks the abyss, to the spray and thunder of the waterfalls. It is splendid to see the flood as it quietly glides from the dam, passes foaming through the perspective arches of the bridge, and then, right before us, disappears in wending its way through nocturnal rocky cliffs! The sig11t reminded me greatly of the shudderingly beautiful bridge of V erzasca near Locarno - where I descended unaftaid, with a true mend's hand, into the cliff-bottom where the green rocky stream was boiling. Our longing flew over the Apennines and the heaven-defYing peaks of the Alps to the dear friend, and holy Nature united the separated ones in her all-embracing arms.

The long winter evening passed rapidly. [p. 167] We were cheerful from our very hearts. The joy of the beloved brother at being really and truJy in 's Tibur, and over Albunea's haunts, was unspeakable; and in this happy hour the veil of melancholy sank even from the eye of the exalted Luise [presumably Luise, Princess of Anhalt-Dessau].

See, we strangers dedicate on Tibur's hill To thee, swan of Venus, chaste Daphne's Darkly glowing hair, and sprinkle, sacrificing, Mild Alban (wine'?].

I had taken possession of the corner room, which., it is true, having no fireplace was very cold and unfiiendly, but where I couJd plunge with sense and spirit right into the fullness of the waterfalls. Splendidly did Orion shimmer against the blue of the sky between the high mountain clefts above the cataract. For an clouds had disappeared. and the brilliant night promised us a cheerful morning.

Long did I remain at the window in enjoyment ofilie sublime hour.

How gladly, till the stars' extinction, Would I have listened to the cataract, [p. 168J Which wildly foams in Tibur's rocky gorges, And proudly sounds again in [Horatius] Flaccus' hymns. Matthisson.

But the hope of the coming day called me to rest; and r feU asleep rapidly, lulled by the tumult of the waterfall.

December 31.

I wakened early, and cheerfuJ as the last morning of the year, which rose smiling from Sabinum's hills and sent up its rosy light at the side of Monte Cotillo. How charmed I was by the wild loneliness of this region! How harmoniously the waterfall joined in the fuJlness of my impressions! How filled with promise was the present, on this morning that smiled with repose, ROMAN DIARY, I 49 and how sacred was remembrance; just moistened with the quiet tears of melancholy, like the dew on these tenderly green winter meadows!

Now the sun cast its first glance over the sunken spine of the hills, and onto Tivoli's little white houses. The reflection of the golden, streaming light [p. 169] sank in the mirroring stream, then moved slowly to the waterfall, and downward with the floods - but not into the abyss; the son of Aether tears himselfloose from the heavy element, and floats with the colors ofIris in the lightly ascending mist.

Soon the friends were joined together en rOllte. The fine December morning was cold, as it is with us around the beginning of October. The sun was not yet quite over the mountains, as we rode up and down on the girdle of the olive-clad hills, and around the deep bed of the Anio, which rushed boisterously beneath us, now visible and now sinking in deeper clefts. Handsome in their wild grace are Tiburnus' heights and lonely depths. Splendid, nom each rocky projection and each unencumbered slope, is the view into the majestic distance, where, in the light mist of the Italian atmosphere, Rome proudly spreads itself in the lap of the plain, while the broad circumference is demarcated by bright blue, gently drawn hills.

We followed every outline of [p. 170] the wildly cleft banks of the Anio. Delightful on these cliffs is the gentle green of the still flourishing shrubbery. And now we saw the towns where, in an enchanting situation, nestling in the hills and on green meadows, stood Horace's Tiburnian villa. In front of him he had the picturesque double fall of the great Cascatella; on the right, the Campagna and Rome. Here your mend, full of exalted enthusiasm, burst out with Horace's praise of Tibur, lauding with overflowing heart the sacred grove Tiburnus and the resounding vaults of the Albunea.

Here I recognized, in a second moment, the viewpoint from which Hakkert had taken the great painting of Tivoli which hangs in the room of my mend Julie Reventiow at Emkendorf. Perhaps no greater praise of the artist is possible than when memory, in an hour as favorable as this one, brings to mind the copy thns juxtaposed with the great original.

Beyond the CascatelJen proudJy rises the ruin [p.171} of the villa of Maecenas on its rock, and Tivoli's cliff-cup at every moment unfolds new beauties, filled with uniquely touching graces; so impetuous are the down- rushing waters, so luxuriantly green the rocks nom which they leap, so tender the descending silver locks of the nymphs, as, gently whispering, they lose themselves in the larger stream and are received, here in the charming bosom of the meadows, and there in the secret depths of the dark shrubbery.

We visited the remnants of the great villa of Varus. The ruins covered a considerable hill, which on the north is abruptly separated nom the Campagna, and nom which there opens an unimpeded view as far as Viterbo's mountain heights. On the right, the view is limited by the nearby Monticelli; on the left, one looks down into Tibur's charmingly reticent valleys. The whole hill is hollow with foundations, water-pipes, baths; the ventilators (sollpiraux) or ROMAN DIARY, I 50

openings for air and [p.l72J light of the subterranean vaults are everywhere visible in the grass, and one needs to walk carefully.

Here lived Quintilius Varus, Augustus's general, who, after having acquired great wealth in Syria, left Tibur's sweet loneliness for Germany's forests in order to die, with his legions, the disgraceful death of the world tyrants. Klopstock's bardic choruses resounded with eagles' wings around me; and M...n (Matthisson?] translated for us Horace's ode to Varus, in which he advises him to plant vineyards at the foot of Mount Cotillns. Today it is no longer wine but, doubtless, the oil ofTibur that is highly valued

From the Piscina belonging to the baths, the circumference and its surrounding wall were still visible in an elevated green meadow. Nearby, a white marble column lies under olive trees. Prom this point, the view to the south, first into Tivoli's foundations, then to the villa of Maecenas and the elevated groves of the Villa d'Este, is notably beautiful. At the same time there opens a glimpse [p.173J into thc charming distance ofthe Alhan mountain; and the picturesque Rotunda (called il Tempio della Tossa), half hidden in orchards, presents itself in the most advatageons manner.

We now descended on the steep inner edge of the Anio's hanks, on narrow zigzag paths, but always beneath olive trees, into the gorge of the Cascatellen. The position of the waterfall, its leap and tone, the form of the rocks, the groups of shrubbery, the shimmering moss carpet of the cliffs, everything is uniquely beautifu.l, wild and charming. Dark and bright, light and shadow are so harmoniously mingled, all nuances so finely melted together, the variation in the views \vith every step is so inexhaustible!

And now we have arrived in the depths, at the very moment when the first sunbeam slipped down with the waterfall into these wild clefts - and soon, now, floats in changeable rainbows above the abyss! We stood before a [p.174J little gateway that leads to the one favorable viewpoint; it was locked, impassable, pitilessly locked, like the portals of Orcus; for - today is a feast day. Far away was the castelJan and guardian dragon of the treasure, and, moreover, at Mass. - "Oh you dear good Switzerland, where they lock up no waterfalls!" With this pious sigh I rode on, comfortless, following the reedy banks of the Anio, not without many a longing backward glance at the rapidly disappearing Cascatellen.

We, however, remained below on the Anio's reedy banks, where wooded hills bordered our narrow way on the right. Before us proudly rose, on a chalk cliff picturesquely draped in green vegetation, the ruins of the castle of Maecenas in airy vaults. Like gentle curls the silver Kaskatellinen (little cascades) flowed down from the cranium of the rough cliff-wall between wild shrubs, gently lisping and irradiated by the sun-illumined spray. Everywhere [p. 175] the ever-present magic flood of the Anio and its tributary springs, KascateJlen and Kaskatellinen, the whole mischievous nymphs' choir had gnawed through the chalk cliff here on one side, clothing it on the other with brownish tuff; everything has been imitated and beautified by this living element. ROMAN DIARY, I 51

A pure spring quietly and unobtrusively gives rise to an emerald brook; and though our dear leader did not venture to decide for the charming source, he nevertheless was able to substitute no other, and we decreed it to be Elandusia. '8

Soon afterward we crossed, by a bridge which picturesquely joins these high banks, to the other side of the Anio. To the right of the path is a grotto, formerly [p. 176] called il Tempio del Mondo. The cavity has been in part enlarged or hollowed out, and is of inconsiderable size, but is very remarkable by reason of the alternating strata of the different stones that its walls reveal. Volcanic tuff, puzzolana, travertine, and only then limestone, succeed one another. But the calcareous level is again followed by volcanic strata. Dolomieu in viewing this grotto has calculated from its strata such an enonnous number of years that this unimpressive hollow became for me a most honorable Temple of Vesta or Archive of Cybele.

We now again forsook the cold lowlands, riding uphill into the dear cheerful sunny air, always skirting half-buried foundations and romantically overgrown cliff walls, and on a path sustained by the underlying structures, to the castle of Maecenas. On the height, in the midst of the vineyard, lies the so-called Temple of the Goddess of Coughing (now actually travestied into Madonna della Tossa). It is a very [p. 177J similar building to the Jvfinerl'a Medica on the Esquiline. But here the lightly spherical roof over the rotunda is intact, and receives the gentle blue of heaven through the round opening in the middle, while from without it is bedecked with a rich net of ivy. It was a bathhouse in the Tiburtine gardens ofSallust Round about are the niches for the bathtubs; above, the empty chamber space of the windows; nearby, a fast rushing brook, which must formerly have furnished the water for a refreshing bath.

The villa of Maecenas, too, we had to bypass. For here, too, everything was closed, and the castellan absent! You see, today we are sentenced to the peripheries! Remarkable is the appearance of the fine Ionic column which, from its Gothic base, rises high over the house gable, reaching lonely into the sky.

We visited the Villa d'Este, which lies majestically on the height. The proud [p.178J pines, the giant cypresses, and the mighty plane trees combine to form a group ofthe most sublime beauty. This eternal green, arching boldly upward into the aether's eternal blue, marries heaven to earth; and the souJ, borne lightly upward from the obelisk of the cypress, floats happily off in the cheerfuJ element!

Here lived Ludovico Ariosto with the builder of this villa, the Cardinal Hippolito d'Este. We picked Asperil/um and blooming (~vtisus Laburmnn; and the grass was permeated with the fragrance of the mint (Miinzen) and thyme (Thymian).

1B [B1andusia] should probably be sought some ten miles farther on and above on the Lucretilis (Monte Gennaro) in the Sabi.ne country, as the Roman lawyer Sanctis has recently shown with imposing erudition. . ROMAN DIARY, I 52

We now returned for this time to Francesco's house, heartily but happily tired. While the men climbed down to the Neptune's Grotto in the bed of the Anio to visit the handsome halls of Albunea and the hidden waterfall, I remained with the dear (femaJe) mend at the feet of the Vesta, where the sun was warm on the little terrace, and gently [p.179J shone upon us while the Cascade surrounded us with its rushing sound. From here we followed the friends with our gaze until they disappeared in the dark cleft; then, pursuing our own interesting way aJong the girdle of the hills, we rehearsed again our fine journey of the morning, looked at Horace's, Tibullus's and Varus's places of residence, at the ruins of the splendid villas of V opiscus and Maecenas, and then returned to the lovely temple of the Mother Earth [the Temple of Vesta?], who is always close to us, who took those old ones into her aU-sheltering lap, and now receives in friendliness also us pilgrims from the North. Ten ofthe graceful Corinthian marble columns (among the most beautiful I have ever seen) still stand around the vestibule of the temple. Thus, only half of the slender sisters who surrounded the haJl, and lightly supported the elegantly wreathed superstructure, have escaped destructiorL

The return down to Rome, by the setting sun ofthe dying year, was one of the pleasantest of my life. Serious [p.1801 words of remembrance w:ith Luise andM [atthiso]n alternated with the humorous teasing of our Hirt, who lives in a perpetual state of mendly discord with me, until the loveliest red of evening poured aU the magic of its gentle tints over Sabinum's and Latium's mountains, gilding the far-off snow-crest while purple'9 animated the nearer clitTs, and thns, in gentle transition, gold became rose, and purple changed to violet, tmtil at last the snow-mountains, like noble dead, sank into semi-visibility and the rocky cliffs hardened into gray-black colossi.

Then, before us in the West, Venus was borne from the misty veil of sunset; and little bv little we all feU silent, each floating on the pinions of individnal thought.

19The German word Purpur is often translated ~crimson," "scarlet," or "CaDjinal red" (Translator). ROMAN DIARY, I 53

BRUN95- VIII VIII. Sistine ChapeL (January 2-18, 1796).

January 2, 1796.

[p. 181 J Some time ago, beneath a lowering heaven, I had half glimpsed, in the gloomy incense-darkened vaults, some of the noble sibyls' and prophets' fignres that loomed out like ominous apparitions. Today not only was the air clear, but a favorable illumination fell through the high skylights on the left-hand side; and I saw what smoke and time had left of the colors, as long as I could stand the strenuous posture of looking upward, which often makes me feel nauseated and dizzy. I.) The comer painting on the right: The Elevation of the Serpent, contains the particularly touching group of the youth who is holding his dying sweetheart up to the healing view of the serpent. The strength of the youth, the weakness of the sinking maiden, are represented in the noblest and most lifelike [p. 182J outlines; the drapery around the limbs of the young girl is of surpassing beauty. 2.) Ceiling painting: God, animating Adam. How bold, and at the same time naIve, is the idea of the wide- spreading garment filled with little angelic children. This confident whirl of life around the noble old man awakens a feeling of good-natured omnipotence which passes over into adoration. But Adam is really the most helpless clod of earth that ever received human form in flesh and bone, on canvas or in marble. To the esthetic gaze he seems unquickenable, doomed to spend his entire existence between sleeping and waking! 3.) How lovely, on the other hand, is the Creation of Eve, the noble, modest figure filled with the expression of a tenderly thankful emotion! Poor thing -- one pardons her in advance for the misstep against which the solemn judge warns her with upraised forefinger! 4.) How noble is the figure, how beautiful [p. 183J the garment, how lofty the face of the solemn and melancholy Sybil of Eritrea!

5.) David and Goliath -- precipitate mass ofthe soulless colossus, next to the victorious adroitness of trained strength. 6.) Above in the depths ofthe chapel, the splendid old man's figure of Zachariah. How magnificent is his rich yellow garment; what consistency in every fold of its grandiose projection! And what a head is wedded to this body! Ligl1t and strength stream from the noble brow!

7.) Corner painting: Judith with her Maid. Heaven grant that this fearful subject might always be presented to us with such reticence! Here Judith helps the maid to set on her head the basket, which she has immediately covered. Both are most lovely light figures, and one guesses rather at anything, flowers, fruits, etc., in the covered basket, than the bloody head of the old general. 8.) Isaiah. A royal youth. Full [p. 184J of exalted enthusiasm, his inwardly awakened sense hearkens to the angelic pair which hovers, whispering, near his head; in his left hand he holds the open book. ROMAN DIARY, I 54

9.) Daniel. Especially beautiful is the powerful young angel who supports the book for him. 10.) Great and noble Delphic [Oracle], you, Urania, among your playmates! Surrounded by the bloom of eternal youth, your wide and calmly opened eye encompasses past and future, as, passionless, you let the turbulent present flow past! The highest exaltation raises and swells the muscles of the godlike figure. The highest repose of strength binds even the indwelling god. This sibyl is for me the noblest female figure that a painter's brush has ever evoked. The whole figure is an archetype of consummate beauty, yet without beauty's ever-necessitous girdle. Among the Rests on the Flight to Egypt, in the triangles and the caryatids, is the plenitude of attractive figures. [p. 185J To my feeling and vision, the greatness and purity of the outlines, in colors, has by no artist been brought so close to the ideals of the antique as by Michael Angelo. Never have I seen garments flung on by the brush which have so indicated the outlines of the body, and come so close to the high simplicity in the art of drapery of the ancients; the greatness of his art, disdaining all sensual appeal, appears especially in his female garments, which truly and cleanly disclose the noble sex of his creations without offending the imagination. With a deep veneration for the high spirit of this noble artist, I left the chapel, without for today having any reserve of fortitude for his Last Judgment.

Palazzo Cbigi.

I. The first objective was the famous [p. 186] antique vase presenting the beautiful, touching, allegorical bas-relief upon which the genins oflife - or death - or (according to Zoega) the genius ofthe passions -- holds Psyche over the flaming torch. Bonstetten's and Zoega's beautiful, true view, which honors also the originator of our own [feminine?J opinion (animated as is the latter only by passion) - i.e., the view "That our spirit is formed and purified through the flame of passion" (as with Hercules on Oeta), became to me a deeply felt truth as I came to sense its high significance in this work of antiquity. Sad, with averted gaze, stands the genius on the altar, holding the painfully crouching evening butterlly"° over the [p. 187] torch that flames at the foot of the altar. On the left, Hope with a languishing look bears the pomegranate flower of gratification. Alone, on the right near the long-suffering Psyche, stands , the avenger, with the rewarding apple-twig of immortality. 2. We visited the fine Venus and Adonis couple of this palace. She rises from the bath; admirably beautiful, pure and mild, are head, forehead, cheeks, and the sweetly gazing eyes.

Adonis is a handsome youth, immersed in quiet nocturnal feeling, and one of my favorites. The first sweet, holy youthful love is fully portrayed in his person.

2°For the Psyche of the ancients, with the spirit still bound to the body, is almost always shown as a stout and scarcely winged bird of dusk; and only when Minerva enlivens the representation of Prometheus, or when Psyche escapes from the urn, does she appear as a lightly fluttering daytime butterfly. ROMAN DIARY, I 55 3. A fine herm of Mercury; true, the head is gone, and then not much remains of a herm; but this leftover shoulder and the garment, how fine! 4. Above in the beautiful Salon hangs the most beautiful . What distance, and what an atmosphere overspreads it, and what a fresh coolness in the foreground; the whole heart wishes to enter it. [p. 188J 5. Large landscape of Salva tor Rosa, opposite the foregoing, and in sharpest contrast. Gnarled oak trunks, dark green, deeply shadowed water; wild and mountainous distances of the Schreckhorn and Wetterhorn [in the Bernese Alps]; huge, wild and intimidating! The two landscapes are considered the most beautiful among the works of these two great artists in Rome. The Chigi Palace is a noble building, and clean and well maintained inside. They say that the wife of Marchese Chigi is an Irishwoman. It stands on the Piazza Antonina, and from nowhere can one see the Antonine Column in such splendor as ITom the windows of this salon. After taking a sunbath on the Medici Terrace, I quietly spent the rest of the day with Wieland's Horace and Bode's Montagne [sic: Montaigne?].

January 4 [1796].

Friend Zoega drove (fuhr) with us, in splendid [p.189] Italian winter air, out through the Porta del Popolo and past the Villa JuJia; then the road slowly rose between endless white garden walls, where, to me, riding ahead by myself, the time seemed very long; finally, a gate was opened on the left -- I slipped through it, it was a vineyard; I rode along its length, expecting from the layout that there wouJd be a good view. And there I found myself, as in a great magic circle, surrounded in beautiful distance by all the hills (Bergen) of the Can1pagna, and beautifully hemmed in by all the hills (Hiigeln) of Rome. The air was ethereally pure; pure and animating was the mild sunshine. The distances were misty, but all the outlines of the mountains stood out sharply. The enchanting foreground was formed by the evergreen oaks and pines of the Pincio, and of the Borghese and Appollinaria villas. Wide and far extending was the view into the Can1pagna. The awesome formation of this volcanic terrain is most characteristic. [p. 190] It is a plain without being flat, and the whole landscape rises and falls in a thousand hills, like the endless motion of the sea. This villa belongs to the Marchese Upri and bears his name. The Palazzo Rondanini (Rondinini).

Here I fully enjoyed the pleasure of wandering around with Zoega among works of art which, in nearly all instances, came from grave monuments. I single out what remains in my heart and memory from among the numerous bas-reliefs which were cemented into the walls of the rooms. 1. Jupiter, and beside him Vulcan with his fallen hammer; the poor parturient (der anne Akkouchirte [i.e., Jupiter]) is still quite stupefied. The gray-eyed (or, as Lucian says, cat-eyed) newborn Minerva is lacking. To me, the whole Luciauesque farce was so convincing, thanks to the naively vigorous figure ofVuJcan and the bewildered appearance of poor Jupiter, that I was quite prevented by laughter from honoring the genius of the Goddess of Wisdom.

[p.191] 2. Hercules, as herdsman. The bulls and cows are ofthe most finished beauty; ROMAN DIARY, I 56

one sees them wandering heavy-bodied.

3. Large sarcophagus with a double representation. a) That ofEndymion; how cautiously Luna approaches the loved slumberer! How flatteringly Amor (Cupid) tries to dispel her modesty! b) That ofPeleus, who surprises the sleeping ; Morpheus from his lowered horn pours grains of slumber into her bosom. Beside them rests the quiet Okeanos. This is very beautiful. 4. Orestes and Pylades. The true friend lovingly holds Orestes, inert in a death slumber brought on by the inward struggle with snakes of his bosom. The figures of the youths are of the highest nobility and breathtaking beauty. 5. A Sarcophagus Lid. A male figure rests upon it. In an urn at his head rested the ashes of his wife. The inscription on the cover ofthe urn, which one can lift oft~ was: Ossa [p. 192J Juliae c.L. Attis. The male figure holds the bust of his wife, worked into a medallion, on his lap, and raises his head to look at her, as though this were the dying man's last longing movement! Both heads are portraits; she neither young nor beautiful, he true and sad. We stroked the cheeks and foreheads of the faithful spouses, blessing the Manes of both.

This is unique in Rome as a monument, perhaps no less unique as regards the present time! 6. The Head of Medusa. Paralyzing death speaks ITom the open, wide-open eye; the teeth, as cold, from the parted lips; how the beautiful face is prolonged through the supine posture (durch den Langhinstrecker)! It is death that has laid its iron hand on fuJI, blooming life. The farther one withdraws through the long series of open rooms, keeping it always in one's eye, the more animated the dead one appears! - Now she floats after you, on wings of terror! It is death in the moment when life takes flight. [p. 193J This winged head is, as Moritz says, "a being in itself," and only comparable to itself. So deeply had this fearful picture impressed itself upon me, that for several nights I saw it around me; and always floating, and armed with the fear of death. Probably this serpent-entwined face was a high relief placed in the center of a colossal shield. What a whole figure must the Minerva or Perseus have been, of which this work of art, conceived in the highest style of the sublime, is only a part! 7. They show here a half-length portrait statue ofM. Bmtus. He holds the dagger turned against himself. Strange are these portraits which are named for Brutus, all of them with a facial expression so greatly at variance with his actual character. This is the fuce of a good-natured failure, who is obliged to puJl himself together for the first time. Not tl1at admired hero, whom [p.194J disappointed belief in the reward of virtue, and anger over his lapsed fatherland, armed him against himself after he had sacrificed his ftiend to them!

8. A mediocre statue of Alexander, noteworthy as the only example of its type. Face and hair are beautiful, the whole apparently a copy. 9. Statue called Hygeia; a beautiful seated woman. She is feeding the snakes of Aesculapius. ROMAN DIARY, I 57

January 5.

The Vatican. Raphael's Loges.

Last time, we slipped through this hall as with closed eyes, since our visit was actually directed to the Stanze. Today we preferred to linger in the mild and cheerfuJ air of this uniquely decorated vestibule to Raphael's temple. The very charming decorations on the sides, these luxuriant ftuit and flower displays, these little gardens and landscapes, [p. 195J the ideals of a lightly floating childish fancy! These caryatids of graces and girl-Cupids (Amorinen), this swarming of birds and squirrels -- and all the delightful monsters animated only by Raphael's, Ariosto's and Wieland's magic wand, are quite lost -- the colors faded, the plaster fallen, etc. How happy I am that I possess them in fine engravings! My prior acquaintance with the Loge paintings was also very useful in coming to know these often half- vanished hall-paintings. Cheerfulness is the predominant tone in these wonderfully beautiful works; and wherever the subject permitted, it is handled in an ideal spirit. The colors are flowers and ftuit; and Raphael is visibly right at home in the old sacred stories of the Patriarchs, which are so full of childish charm and high simplicity. Unfortunately I once again could not hold out very long, for the unnatural position in which [p. 196] one mnst contemplate this heaven soon caused me dizziness and nausea. I recovered myself in the Stanze, where I took a few drops from the fullness, not for descriptive purposes but just for memory's sake. I.) The Burning of the Borgo. Painted from Raphael's cartoon by his most distinguished pupils, Giuglio [Giulio] Romano and Fattore Penni. The splendid woman on the right, with afU1S outstretched in entreaty (which only Raphael could represent so robustly, so equally remote from the muscularity of and the weak indefiniteness of most other painters), and with golden, silky undulant hair. The large woman on the right, the screaming child ahead of her.

The seated mother with the rescued single sheep in her lap. One feels clearly that this is her all, and she will now let bum what will! Precious groups of pleading women, ardently extending their arms toward the balcony [p.197J where the Pope is just appearing in full regalia to quell the flames. The fiery Giuglio Romano, they say, worked particularly on the left-hand side. There the flame is raging. Lovely group of the young man who is bearing the old man out of the flames; outstanding academic figure of the outstretched man to whom the mother is reaching the nursing infant from the burning window space. What rapid, life-breathing, overpowering truili in the figures, the movement and the illumination! Everything comes and goes before your eyes; it happens; it is there! and you would now like to help immediately with bringing water, extinguishing and ceasing to be an idJe spectator, save that the Holy Father, extinguishing the flames through his efficacious prayer, has saved you the trouble.

2. Peter, awakened by the Angel; prison darkness, illuminated only by the brilliancy of ROMAN DIARY, I 58 the heavenly . Peter sleeping the sleep of the just. Light ethereal movement of the angel. [p. 198J Outside to the left is dark night, cloud-enshrouded moon, and the Watch awakening in amazement. On the right the Angel, who is gently and easily leading the halfawakened Peter away. One sees through the grating into the prison; the truth of the space within is presented in the most beautiful iIInsionism. Here, too, the lovely miracle takes place before your eyes; the chains fall silently from Peter's limbs - now he is at the door -- the sentries come too late. 3.) Heliodorus or the Church Robbery. Flying haste, stormy approach; strength ofthe angels, without violence. Ahead of the breathing flames, the lightning-like gaze, stagger the criminals, loaded with booty, lamed in all their limbs, breaking down in duJl unconsciousness. The midmost of the avenging heroes has a striking resemblance to our mend Joachim von Bernstorf. To the left of the Pope is the famous women's group with the three heads, on each of which astounded panic is so characteristically imprinted [p. 199]. The bearers of the Pope are splendid portraits. The picture of Julius II, Raphael's protector (who had wit enough immediately to recognize the seventeen-year-old youth, and, unconstrained as he was, to let the works of the others be taken down immediately after the first allegorical figures of Raphael were shown -- Theology and Poetry I believe), is here solemnly heightened; although one does seem not to understand how he comes to appear suddenly in the temple? 4.) The Mass ofBolsena. This ne plus ultra of the brush, even that of a Raphae1! The Pope is a godlike head, and a noble figure. What national faces in the group of the sturdy Swiss Guard! Among them are men of Schwyz and Unterwalden. Yellow and haggard are the Italians who stand before these powerfuJ figures. The four altar boys who carry candles are earthly angels. It is the highest youthful beauty, innocence and self- possession. To the left is the group ofthe woman with the three [p. 200J precious lively children, children of unspeakable charm such as every mother wouJd like to have! One wouJd like to see the face of the well-formed woman who shows her full neck; but the children one would like to caress and kiss to one's heart's content. In one of the tousled babes one recognizes the boy from the Madoffi1a of the Chair (Seggiola); he appears frequently in Raphael's paintings, but never too frequently; for it is a young Son of God, and a child of great hope. On earth a child resembled him! It was not I alone who was struck by this resemblance, which I noticed from childhood in the excelJent copy of the Madoffi1a of the Chair in the room of our worthy Preisler. Ah! Eduard SchuJz, plant so full of life and intellect, death broke you before I saw the gardens ofHesperian art. Alone, I scarcely glimpsed the boy of the Madoffi1a of the Pitti Palace, the tears of remembrance so filJed my eye. Such was Eduard SchuJz, beloved son [p. 201 J of a much-loved father, at the age of five trimesters.2! Especially this thought- muscle between the eyes, and the deep and fiery gazing eye.

Villa Millini.

January 6.

21Schulz's friends know, but not all of the widely scattered admirers of this great man can know, that this then only child, this adored son of his heart was fatally injured in his fifth year of life by a carelessly replaced corner cupboard whose panelling the enterprising boy had been attempting to climb. He died only after nineteen days of unspeakable suffering, which he bore with manly fortitude, and after he had twice been trepanned. ROMAN DIARY, I 59 Our dear Luise brought me and my children in clear weather up to the Janiculus today. We spent some hours up there, and saw Rome spread out beneath ns; glimpsed, through the Pantheon of the air (St. Peter's dome), the blue of heaven beyond, and [p. 202J saw, in descending through the vineyards on the other side of the hill, the silver-sparkling sea encompassing the Campagna like a belt. Luise greatly enjoyed the solemn groups of oaks and cypresses. Like a melancholy noble thought, the dark green obelisk thrusts upward into the limitless blue of the aether, while the introspective oak seeks the earth with its shadow. Stirringly beautiful is the moment in the Great Alley where, standing in the middle ofthe gently arched shadow passage, one glimpses, through both perspective chamber openings of the high vault, on one side St. Peter's dome, on the other a mountainous blue distance like a beautifully held painting.

January 12. Until today, a small but very exhausting fever has kept me confined to my room, and often chained to my bed. Livy, Klopstock's Odes (these geniuses which have always been close to me since my fourteenth year), and the noble [p.203J SakuntaJa were my companions in imprisonment. Sakuntala, the bud of charm, the bloom of grace. Nothing more lovely breathes in words on earth than what became poetry two thousand years ago on the Indus. After I had allowed my universal balsam, the air, to blow well about me, Femow drove us to his friend, the artist Reinhardt from Bayreuth. He is a fine landscape painter, as I felt before two big landscapes intended for the Duke of Bristol. The first represents a party on the Lake of Aesculapius from the Villa Borghese; the other, the valley and the gorge of Terni, with the lower fall of the Velino over broken rocks and through wild underbmsh.

Reinhardt's foliage is the boldest and strongest I have ever seen. His trees rise beautifully in fullness and grace, in which one sees uumistakably every noble species in all its individualitY, and not just meaningless masses which merely [p. 204J flatter the eye. The cooling of the shadows rustles around yon, and you do not merely see, but are actually in the sacred grove! Mossy banks and water he handles well. I liked less his cliff and his distances. But we always forget that our expectations, especially with landscape painters, are boundless, and that the artist who conjures up for us a magnificent tree with its roots, trunk, bough, twig and leaf, with the illusion of the rustling in the treetop and the spreading coolness ofthe shadows, is not merely an artist but already a poet, and a creator! I would like some day to possess a landscape in which Hess in Zurich had depicted with a bold hand the mountains of his land, trussed with clouds, but Reinhardt had planted the shadowy foreground with mighty oaks and with whispering alders over the rushing woodland brook. Then we wandered around for a short hour in St. Peter's, where one feels more and more at home. [p. 205J We looked today at the monuments which are ofless artistic value. That of Queen Christina. The one that Urban VIII had erected to Countess Mathildis was especially interesting to me as I noticed the striking resemblance between the beautifuJ figure of the Countess, lying on the sarcophagus, and my beloved sister, Joham1e Eggers. What we found horrible was the appearance of a boy of eight years, begging in a black monk's cowl! He looked more like a demon, poor fellow! Fear and craft spoke simuJtaneously from his prematurely distorted features. In the street which leads from the Angels' Bridge (ponte Sant'Angelo) to St. Peter's Sqnare, new Madonna has treated herself to a very elegant boudoir; she has only lately become the fashion. The sick donkey of a passing peasant was cured by the perhaps quite coincidental belief of his master in this unknown wall Madonna, before whose neglected image only scattered ROMAN DIARY, I 60 lamps burned at the time. Now she has silver stuff, stucco walls, pretty dresses, and continuous visitation. [p. 206J In no place in the world have I seen such copious victuals (Schnabelweide) hung out as in Sacred Rome. Well-fattened meats, poultry, tempting fruits at every street comer; in every embrasure, on all squares, smoking eateries (Garkiichen)! The locality around the Pantheon, in particuJar, is a real Pays de Cocagne (.vic); all the fowl of the Pontine Marshes lies here, cooked or at least plucked, in thonsands; night brings no end to the buying and selling; these tiring galleries of the Netherlands School are open, and advantageously illuminated, even late in the evening. Either a section of the modern Romans must induJge beyond measure, or all of them must at least eat their fill. And one does in fact see fewer starving people than ragged and filthy ones. OuJy the cripples and those smitten with disgusting diseases are innumerable. The children mostly laugh while begging, when it is not cold, Fine, black, lively eyes are commonplace; but the women [p. 207] in the Tras-Tevere quarter, beyond the Tiber, have, with strong black hair and fiery eyes, the most beautiful coloring; that fresh white and darker red where the fullness of life shines through in full waves. Arnong the men whom I assign by their appearance to the middle class, I saw fine figures; the men of the people are ugly. In the numerous class of the clerical and monkish orders, idleness and good eating are plainly visible; here reigns, often at the cost of the facial expression, the roundness and redness of excessive well-being in these moouJike countenances. Artists' Studios.

January 14.

Cannova (sic: Canova), the almost deified darling ofItaly. There exists a little volume of poems, sonnets, etc. entirely in his praise. He was born a Venetian, and all who know him personally are [p. 208J united in acknowledging the amiability of his moral and social character. Unfortunately I never found him in his studio. So here was the beginning of the modern school (? modernes Original) of the art ofscuJpture. 1. The first group on which my eye fell was Arnor (Cupid) and Psyche, at the moment when the latter, enshrouded by the Stygian mists arising from the opened vase ofProserpina, sinks down dying, and the other hastens to her aid. This group has a noticeable lack of unity and repose, and a stormy movement which exceeds the province of the brush and, in marble, becomes quite intolerable. Arnor's wings are wildly stiffened; he seems rather to want to overpower Psyche than to aid her. Both figures are beautiful in part; the marble is worked with the greatest art and delicacy, but to my feeling too much like wax. Neck, breast and torso of Psyche are most pure, tender, and true, and really, if I may so express myself, [p. 209J buds of a future bloom; but arms and legs are dry and uumuscular, like willow branches, such as one would like to give to the sisters of Phaeton at the moment of their transformation. Arnor's head is beautifuJ, his face full of expression. 2.) Theseus, resting on the slain Minotaur; a cast of one of the oldest works of Canova. Tome this piece was by far the most likable. Thesens is large and quiet, like repose after action. Why did an artist so rich in mind and imagination leave this road of simplicity and truth in order to cultivate an extravagant mannerism? 3. Venus and Adonis; a lovely group.

4. Arnor, the latest among the artist's works here present; torso and thighs are very softly and beautifully worked out, and less waxlike. But arms and legs are again dry, dead and thin! ROMAN DIARY, I 61 And what a neck, what a prince's pose! This Amor looks as ifhe were holding court, and is to be recommended to all young girls as completely unrlangerons. The most and [p. 210J most prized works of Canova are in Naples and Venice. He is working on the model of a colossal group: HercuJes hurls Lichas into the sea, a gigantic idea! Trippel's Studio.

We did not find Trippel any mOTe! but a large number of excellent casts after his best works. The truth of the individual life speaks from these faces. True, the handling of the mass is a subordinate service, and merely a prerequisite ofthe fine art which orders the marble to breathe; but this, too, Trippel fuJly possessed. His marble has the tender play of the muscles, which at the next moment the souJ animates. We saw here, after many interesting busts of savants and heroes, the death mask of Frederick the Unique [Frederick II ("the Great"), King of Prussia (1712-86)]; but Trippel himself was gathered to the shades before he could undertake this work so worthy of him.

[p. 211 J We shuddered to see the stamp of all-conquering death impressed upon this face. Oh! how that fiery eye, deep and firm and forever closed, flashed life and spirit, decision and strength over his thousands! Here too there was a group of Psyche and Amor, worked up from Trippel's model. The idea is not so tender and fancifuJ as Canova's; but there is more lasting truth in it. Trippel's best worker, Schmidt, a Dane, has successfully copied varions busts from the antique which one is happy to see again, even though only in pictorial form. At the studio of Mr. Busch, the Mecklenburg court scuJptor, we also found finely worked busts, among which I mention particularly the two lovely daughters of Niobe, the fine Mercury with the hat (tI1e original of which has gone to England), and the Capitoline Ariadne. In my judgment, this fine artist copies [p. 212J the antique with a most trustworthy eye and the most pious truth and respect; and his way of handling the marble is manly and noble. Later he did my bust, which is so like that one can take the silhouette from its shadow as well as from my own.

January 15.

Still weak, 1 spent the noon hour with our dear mend Pfaff in the Villa Mattei, mainly on the southerly terrace. How so much present quiet encompasses these old-time fields! My joy in the fresh and overflowing delight of my young mend was a real medicine for me! We stayed long in the enlivening sunshine, - Ah! these pine-islands, borne on tender stems into the brilliant blue of the air, and these thought-obelisks of cypresses, this olive twig of Olympia, shadowing the myrtles of Venus, and these, [p. 213J married in their turn to the boxwood in the hedges, this imitative myrrh of the underworld, which we dedicated to the mourning Proserpina, because the joyless shrub greens in winter and blooms without sun, almost without air, in damp and dismal places! -- Around us stood the mins of the , of the old city wall and its dependent aqueducts; Porta Capena, Tomb of [Cecilia] Metella, Grove ofEgeria; and the proximity of the Alban, the distance of the snow-covered Sabine hills-everything was touched upon in order. Every new word, every named place, which gave reality to an idea, was a fresh delight for my dear companion, and he made circles around my hand as in the joyous giddiness of a magic round; and I was cured by this delightful sight.

January 16. A feverish day

after a feverish night. -- Ah! I had to let Carl (sic) travel alone to Freskati ROMAN DIARY, I 62

(Frascati), with his tutor and Fernow, in heavenly weather! [p.214J January 17. I had barely strength enough to undertake a leisurely drive with my noble [female] mend to the Lateran and [Santa] Maria Maggiore. It was Sunday, the feast ofSt Anthony -- and of the horses, asses and dogs of Rome; for on this day, in front oftl1e chapel of this saint, all these animals are blessed, i.e., a priest stands in the entry to the cloister next to the font, with the aspergillum in his hand, and sprinkles, as it trots past, each showy conveyance, each curveting riding horse, each quiet , and each creeping donkey (Langohr) - with the Aqua Santa. The dogs, who are also brightly decorated (among them, the black poodles and white spitzes (1 Spatze) distinguished themselves with red and blue ribbons), ran past and received the residue. A great crowd of people was assembled on the Piazza of [Santa] Maria Maggiore to see the decorated equipages of the fashionable Romans, which seldom [p. 215) distinguish themselves by taste, and in which today the lackeys paraded in colorful livery. We in the carriage found special joy in the good little donkeys; decorated with colorful ribbons, and with a ribbon-rose woven into their tails, they gravely proceeded in full awareness; many pointed their long ears, and raised their heads pertly after receiving the blessing, as if they had drunk champagne; most were ridden by happy and handsome boys, and I saw with sympathy, in these singly led and lovingly decorated beasts, the true house- friend and load-lifter of poor happy families.

Wax candles, and occasionally small coins, are the gratuity [givenJ for the free blessing of the holy devil- conquerors. We returned by way of [SantaJ Croce di Gerusalemme and the Lateran. Uniquely beautiful is the setting of these great lonely meadows, which, however, on the feast days of these sacred places are animated by the prettiest and brightest [p. 216J groups of ordinary people. The broken pieces of the aqueducts stand like triumphal arches of the long-gone Romans, in single vaultings of magnificence (prachthallen); to the left, the old city wall encloses the meadows. The air these days is pure and fine, but cold for Rome; at night, around two or three o'clock, it actually freezes up to four degrees. Late in the evening, a friendly-happy Carl returned from his walking tour via Preskati (Frascati), Nemi, Merino and Albano, pressing the thorn oflonging deep into me by his warm description.

The Casino Corsini.

Jannary 18.

High on the back ofMontorio, above Aqna Paoli, in the airy halls of the Casino Corsini, our beloved Luise had prepared for us a meal, which mendship and shared joy in the fuJlness of the great, beautifuJ, noble and touching [qnalities], spread about us in wide thought-circles, made into a meal for the gods! In how many prospects and retrospects is Rome unique! But above all, through the intimate union of past and present, nature and art, which here, as nowhere else, embrace like sisters, and are spared and nurtured by the breath of milder air! From every hill, from every height, a different view! One is so familiar with the whole, and yet finds in the details inexhaustible food for thought, and ever new charm.

From midday on, until the short day of the young year had neared its close, we remained ROMAN DIARY, I 63 here and saw the sun sinking -- sinking over Rome, and behind the nearby pine grove of the Villa Pamphili. What a gentle scale of colors, tender as the sound of lightly fingered strings, passed before our gaze! What tender tints on the northern chain of the Apenuines above Viterbo; what airy mantling of the nearby southerly Alban [Hills]; [p. 218J what a shimmer of gold on the snow-ridge of Sabina and the far-offSanmite land! Then there stood out from the lap of holy Rome, clad in glowing purple, and awakened to short life, the ruins in the Campo Vaccino, and the Palatine mins in their wreath of oak! The Coliseum, the Temple of Peace, the lonely Minerva Medica, raise their glowing tops above the present. Far over the plain toward Albano, the aqueducts stand out; lonely reflections redden the Tomb of [CeceliaJ Metella.

Rome's towering palaces shimmer in a thousandfold gleaming; above all, the high Famese and the Quirinal, where two high windows long blazed like torches. But it was old Rome that held us fast, the glittering Tiber, and you, oh sacred sun, who with the same gaze saw Rome rise, grow and fall! In how friendly a way you lingered in the treetops ofthe pines, before you sank for us, in order to illuminate a new world, [p. 219J where all is still future, as all in our hemisphere is past!

Then we turned from sunset to morning - deader than dead, the ruins sank down! Only the higher hills solemuJy raised themselves, like returning primeval spirits, to the moon's selfkindling beams. ROMAN DIARY, I 64

BRUN95-1X [p. 220] IX. (January19-31,1796) January 19,1796. We continued our visits to the artists. Hudson, an English scuJptor. His studio is a real bust factory. The clay models ofthe human faces modeled by his hand stood around, innumerable, like bread in a bakery; the completed marble versions were nearly all unfinished (sbozzato). The artist personally apparently puts only the last touches to the marble. Similarity (but without spirit or life) is found in these busts; the work is tasteful. Among the busts known to me I found one of Angelica, executed with love and care, and strikingly like. ScuJptor Dear, also an Englishman. Here stands the beautiful Venus recently excavated on the Alban road, six miles from Rome, for Prince Augustus.

She is declared to be the first after the Medici [Venus], and is preferred to the Capitoline [one]. [p.221J She is of white marble, in the position of the Medicean [one], noticeably larger and, it seems to me, somewhat heavy. The head is extraordinarily beautiful, full of nobility and quiet self-assurance; the hair arranged with luxuriant art, like the Belvedere Apollo. From behind, one sees exposed the most charming lines of the robust full body, and the beautiful back is gently split, like a ripening ftuit. But breast and torso lack the gentle, ever virginal fullness of the Alcomenian goddess. Dear also makes very tasteful decorative pieces based on antique bas-reliefs, with the Horae, Muses, etc. They go to London and Paris.

The Theater delia Valle. The first [theater] I have visited in Rome. Miserable location; pitiful lighting; bad decoration that destroys every illusion. [p. 222J Long-legged and thin-armed [male] sopranos, travestied as lovelorn females. I was particularly amused at one of them, who appeared as a shepherdess with a fresh flower garland on his flowing muslin skirt, out of which there suddenly emerged the biggest bear's paw that any soprano has ever borne. The tucked-up arms were now twisted into tender contortions; and then the plump hands, forgetting tl1eir new assignment, would fall manwise on the long knees, and the vulgar fellow appeared in a real pouring posture (Schenkenattitilde). In short, it was insufferable, if one takes into account also the exhalations of a miserable illumination and an unclean public. The music of Cimarosa was a resounding, well executed Iyrum-Iarum. We who are accustomed to Gluck's and Schulz's harmonies, to GeID1an sense and the taste of the French theater, left this corner shop of Thalia and Terpsichore, on which no one of the Muses ever cast a dedicatory glance.

[p. 223J The Spring of Egeria. January 21. Rome is the home of contemplative melancholy, and of temples dedicated to memory; and my heart has never felt the charm of sadness more deeply than here. But especially gruesome [hochstschauerlich} is this way here beneath the ruins of the Palatine, where the ivy ROMAN DIARY, I 65

hung chambers arise from the black of the oaks; and when the Colosseum bic] then arises on the left in space- devouring dimensions, and on the rigl1t the massive overhanging walls enclose the Baths of Caracalla, I feel myself so much a captive of past and pensiveness, that the present falls away from me as in dark floods. Under the Arch ofDrusns and out through the aqueduct arch of the Porta Capena, where today's little people have nested like owls and crows in the indestructible walls, the ever more lonely way to the Grotto of Egeria is a train of thought, [p. 224J a color effect of sensibility. Abbe Giuntotardi today gnided his pupil to Numa's consecrated shrine. Poor Nymph, mankind has thanklessly abandoned YOU; but Nature adorns your mourning head with the trembling green of the Adianthum Veneris, which pours its dewy locks lovingly about you! Above us the sky was overcast, and the lazy waves of the Elmo flowed deep in the misty valley; only the Alban Mount stood reddish- blue in the sunshine. On the way home we visited the tomb of the Scipios, which still lies in a lonely little garden within the old city walL It has been hewn out of the tuff- and travertine rock; here stood the sarcophagus of Scipio Barbatus, with the authenticating inscriptions which are now in the P.CL [Pio-Clementino] Museum. After this most interesting tomb had been conjecturally located at three or four different spots, it was identified by chance. It has been irregularly hewn out in several diverging lateral excavations (in verschiedene abstaltende Seitenholen), apparently [p.225J under growing [technical] difficulty. Scipio Barbatus lived at the time of the war with Lucania, where he was ConsuJ, 540 years after the foundation of Rome [AUe]. But the pearl of the monument is lacking! For thankless Rome was not worthy to shelter the ashes of the great [Scipio] Afucanus within its walls. I picked blooming rosemary from the rocky base of the sepulchre.

Villa Doria.

January 22. Friend Zoega guided me to this favorite villa of his, which lies on the garden-covered Pincio and formerly belonged to the Gardens of SaJlust. Around it rise the proud arboreal groups, the pine-Iaurel-oak-plane- and cypress-treetops of the Medici, Borghese and Ludovisi villas; only this villa [Doria] is quiet and lonely. It features so-calJed English landscaping; and since, with little art, heaven and earth do much, it has become a lovely spot. [p. 226J The air is very mild, with, indeed, a breath of the Scirocco - which, however, as long as it remains merely a breath, is rather beneficial to me, since it relaxes my overstrained nerves. My fuend Zoega and I are plant-lovers; but we love botany for the sake of the flowers, not the flowers for the botany; and we love the symbolism ofthe plant world more than either; therefore with weak knowledge we have great joy. Violets aJready exhaled their scent from the grass at the edge of the spring; the charming white, dark red and violet blue of the Sinngriln glanced shyly from mossy banks and between thick aspen garlands. The aether-blue rises proudly above its little sisters. Carpets of hyacinth and adorn the flowerbeds. In my house I found the lovely child who recently met me on the Medici Terrace on the arm of its nurse. Its resemblance to my little Ida in Copenhagen was so great that I [p. 227J stood stock still with emotion -- then the sweet child stretched out its arms to me and willingly let me caress it. Since then the nurse (a fine, fiery Neapolitan) often brings me the child, who only cries when it must leave me; the little angel is caJled Am1a, and is the daughter of an old, sick English General Geffi1ing, who with his young wife is here caring for his weak health; the little one looks like my two oldest children, like a sister, and my joy in the little being is ROMAN DIARY, I 66 inexpressible.

January 23.

With the intelligent and well-informed Count von R****l** we looked at a collection of gems and intaglios at the home of the banker and antique dealer Jenkins. The following things seem to me worth mentioning: A splendid intaglio of a hero's head in onyx, on a ring; an excellent head of Germanicus, much like the portrait statue in the Mnseum Gabinum; Venus in the bath, with [p. 228J a down- slithering garment, a vase and the rabbit (an extraordinarily beautiful cameo, white on a dark ground for a bracelet); the allegedly antique companion piece, Ganymede with the eagle, is much inferior to it. This last piece is said to be priced at 300 pounds sterling. Also in this house was a collection of old and antique statues and busts, which Mr. Jenkins good-naturedly makes available to visitors. BeautifuJ among these things were a Plato or Indian Bacchns, and a youthful Commodus, whose noticeable similarity to his noble father [Marcus Aurelius] I never see without pain; both were busts. Antoninus and Trajan, depicted in statues as heroes. Group of Amor (Cupid) and Psyche, after the Capitoline one. Among the Muses here present, I wouJd have chosen Urania alone, in had first been able to get rid of the ugly, apparently restored legs. All this is claimed to be antique, and does look very old. In the evening we visited the Theater Argentina. [p. 229J Here one can at least breathe, and does not sit in a dark mousetrap of a loge as in the Theater delia Valle. The costumes of the actors were most wretched, the music mediocre. One singer distinguished himself by virtue of a gentle, very caressing voice.

In the ballet (in which was presented the Conquest of Mexico , with all possible noise), the fire of the Italians showed itself in both the dancers and the spectators. The ballet was brilliant, and some better trained French dancers distinguished themselves greatly from the Italian leapers by their serious histrionics and more noble poses. Still, there was strength and life in these wild leaps, in which they passed very well as Mexicans. Never have I heard such passionate tones of rapture as, at each somewhat tender scene, each picturesque pose, these people audibly sighed: Ah bravo! bravissimo! Ah ! be/lissimo! One group, which aroused in all of us the utmost repugnance, [p. 230J and in which a young, very handsome dancer embraces his old, miscostumed beloved in the roles of Psyche and Arnor, and in which we were all on the point ofloudly protesting such a profanation, there sounded some sentimental Ecco! Ecco Psyche con I 'Amore. In general, either chance or the moralistic influence of the modem Roman arbiters of morality has so arranged matters that both in the opera and in the ballet the female lovers' roles fall to the longest, thinnest and oldest sopranos. This, and the interruption of each act of the opera by the ballet, and this again by the opera, so that one takes no interest in either, destroys all illusion, even if the mediocrity of decorations, machines, lighting, costuming allowed even a shadow of illusion to make itself felt; and this ridicuJous custom, prevailing throughout Italy, of the fragmentation and mixing of opera and ballet, shows the sunken sensibility of the nation, which seeks only a quite superficial sensuous pleasure in its stage plays. [p. 231 J I have been unable either in Milan, Rome or Naples to sit through a whole theatrical performance (ein Schauspiel auszudauern).

January 24.

In the evening our Roman fuends, and especially Abbe Gilmtotardi, who is one of the most zealous of shepherds, brought us to "the Arcadians," where cultivated and fashionable ROMAN DIARY, I 67

Rome was assembled; I saw here the Lieutenant-General of the Papal Army, and the Censor of Rome, a General of the Benedictines; the Senator of Rome, Prince Rezzonico, and his spouse, and the whole diplomatic corps of the Christian-Catholic powers of Europe. Initially there were a lot of brief speeches, sonnets, etc., in honor ofthe Madonna and the feast of her lying-in and churching, to which nobody paid attention, although at each pause people clapped while yawning, and yawned while clapping. To me, as a foreigner, the Lingua Toscana in Bocca romana [Tuscan language in Roman accents J [p. 232J emanating from many a full and sonorous organ, sounded splendidly in the ear. Then the famous improvisatrice Bandettini sang, on subjects given her on the spot. This interesting woman comes from Modena, and used to be a dancer. Her portrait by Angelika had already attracted me. She has a splendid fiery eye, and a flaming, yet never wild, expression; her poses are beautiful, and she opens her mouth like one inspired. The subjects given her by the great ones of Rome were in part trite, and in part highly unsuitable for a woman: the Flood, Apollo's quarrel with Marsyas and the operation [i.e., tl1e flaying of MarsyasJ, the battle of Lapiths and , were in no way calcuJated to inspire gentle, tender and charming pictures. In the Flood, she introduced a few idyllic episodes, and she handled the birth of Christ entirely as a lovely pastorale. Her accompanist each time plays a melody given by her, which she twice altered, together with her [p. 233J poetic meter (which, however, was always in stanzas [of eight lines? Das jedoch immer Stanze warJ). She often uses the double beat of the anapest, which greatly raises and animates her singing. Her voice is weak and trembling, so that much escaped me. In conversation she is hearty, naIve, but uncultivated. She has a very delicate figure, and must have been decidedly beautiful. How would this gifted creature, in another country and with careful training, have ripened into an ornament to her sex! So I was thinking, as there appeared in my mind's eye the picture of the one German poetess who deserved the so frequently awarded sobriquet of "the German Sappho" -- Karschinn -- who sadly asked, "Where is the happy land, in which a mild genius cultivates the flowers of the feminine spirit? Do they not everywhere bloom untended and, as it were, clandestinely, struggling against the pressure of pointless or hostile education and of a prejudice which is everywhere armed against them?"

[p. 234J The Quirinal Palace.

January 25.

Here in the Chapel of the Annunziata we saw the transfiguration of Guido [ReniJ's brush in Rome. I. A tenderly soulful light is poured over the main picture of the Annunciation. The angel, a serious youth full of dignity but also fuJl of reverence for the most gracious Virgin, is one of Guido's best realized figures; though kneeling, he seems to hover in a light silver cloud. Mary is all submissiveness, and her tender face is very beautiful. The colors are still fresh, and, with [or next toJ the Peter in Bologna, the best preserved of dear Guido's oil paintings. Alas! the reason so many of his paintings look green or gray as death was his poverty, which often made it impossible for him to buy the best and most durable paints! It is quite believable that the tender Guido lived more in the world [p. 235J oflovely ideas than in reality, and in painting his lightly insubstantial figures sometimes forgot the material means by which he was expected to give lasting existence to the ethereal children of his fancy. The wreath of charming little angels high in the vauJt of the altarpiece is wholly Guido-like. 2. Mary, who is sewing baby clothes; one of the most naively feminine figures, in the fullness of motherhood. How conscientiously she busies herself for the loved being that raises ROMAN DIARY, I 68

her fair bosom! Oh, she is wholly mother, a true ideal of motherhood, and they ought to make Rome's degenerate women of the fine world pmy industriously in this chapel. Above her float two lovely angel children. Next to her kneels a noble genius, with tender swan's wings. 3. Birth of Christ. Always the same Mary on these two fresco paintings; here are fair figures, among them women subject to the secrets of Juno Lucina; but these plaster paintings have suffered greatly from the dampness. [p. 236]

4. In a room of the palace, Saint Sebastian. A fine, large painting by Tiziano ). The figures round themselves astonishingly from off the canvas, stepping forward toward the viewer. Splendid head of Saint Augustine. A more commonplace but extremely animated body of Saint Sebastian; the arrows strike deep into his flesh. In the Gloria above is a very beautiful youngster; but it is a mischievous Cupid, not an angel. Guido alone undeTStands how to conceive of angels which are neither frivolous cupids nor commonplace children.22 5. The powerful Juno-like Madonna of the Tower, by Carlo Maratti. A fine-looking woman of the Trastevere, elevated to be Queen of Heaven, but no gracions Mary! The view from the balcony ofthe Quirinal is one of the most splendid in Rome. From this height of the Monte Cavallo, one embraces the whole northwestern part of Rome, from the [p. 237] crescent of Monte Mario and Montorio, from the cypresses ofViUa Mellini to the pines of Cassini, with a single glance.

Among us, we counted seventeen domes. The Pantheon (sic) ofSt. Peter's Church rose high in the misty air; but the old Pantheon rounded itse1fhumbly out of Rome's depths. To the right lay the fair garden grove of the Pincio, heaped up in great masses of luxuriant green; beneath us plashed the fountains of the Quirinal Gardens. In the afternoon we took my favorite drive beneath the Palatine and back by way of the Aventine, and then saw the sun from the Medici Terrace, setting in clouds of glory such as Guido must often have listened to (belau~'cht). Carbuncle and orange alternated in the glowing streams of the West; the rest of the sky was gray. Then we drove toward the rising moon, across the Ponte Sant'Angelo; fuJly and silently blushing, the great ball swam up from the earthy mists into the aether, pouring [p. 238J pure silver into the yeJlow waves of the Tiber; then, with the moon, we hurried onto Saint Peter's Square. Oh, how majestic it seemed to us, in this illumination! Behind the northern coloffi1ade, the trembling light was just rising, and shining into the vaulted twilight of the southern halls; the vivid life of the world's most beautiful fountains floated in shining silver in the dark evening light -- now the cupola of the church was illuminated -- then the facade -- and now t11e noble whole stood before us, like a great thought; then we drove up to Aqna Paoli, and entered first the shadow of the cypresses; then, abruptly, we came out into the full brightness at the waterfall! Oh, this rushing sound in the moonlight, where the eye feels that it, too, is listening, and loses itself in the billions of silvery sparks that fall like dust into the green basin! Over Rome a silver covering was spread; the cupolas and towers shone brightly above it; like far-off coasts of the [p. 239J past, seen from heavenly fields, one perceived in the uncertainly shimmering atmosphere the hills of the Campagna. Next me stood P**ff [Pfaff], lost 22Michael Angelo's angels are young Herculeses; and Raphael's powerful angel children are also young heroes. ROMAN DIARY, I 69 in an ecstatic trance; we all seemed to be caught up in a blessed dream. January 26. I spent the morning quite alone in the Bosco [wood] of the Villa Medici. Much too weak to climb the rather steep stairs, I was carried up by my servant These tremulous palpitations which are brought upon me by every stair-climbing. and in the city air, and which then pass over into an oppression of the chest (Brustlwmpf(sic: Brustkrampf!)], rob me of many a pleasure. For friend Domeyer has strictly forbidden the climbing ofTrajan's Column and the dome of St Peter's, although, on the other hand, he offers me all the heights of Albano and Tivoli.

Back, alone, to the Bosco di Medici, where, lifted high above [Santa] Triniti dei Monti, one looks deep down upon the old Campus Martius and the Gardens ofSallust. The view of the heavens from all [p. 240] these charming villas is surprisingly beautifu], and their pine-cypress laurel-plane tree groves arrange themselves in picturesque groupings. A broad perspective view has been created between the pine islands of Villa Borghese and the cypresses of Villa Ludovisi; its foreground is occupied by a reddish bit of the ruins of the old city wall; then, lightly positioned on the rising plain, are the Monticelli, and in the distance one sees the dark blue mountain peaks of Sanmium. Being much moved by the recent news of his death, I read with heartfelt benefit in my much-loved old Rothe's fine work, Naturen betragtet efter Bonnets Maade, the lovely chapter on granite. Good Rothe! how you will now be eagerly studying in your great favorite chapter about the unveiling capacity (Enthfiilbarkeit), refinement- and completion-capability (Verfeinerungs- und Vervolllwmnungs-Fiihigkeit) of our being! May this solitary hour remain to me as an unforgettable remembrance of one of the greatest and best men of the Danish world, of this liberal thinker, [p. 241] who, progressing with the times, in his clarifYing spirit immediately separated the gold from the dross, and so, laden with ripe fruits, landed in the harbor. The Palatine. Ruins ofthe Emperors' Palaces.

January 27.

Zoega and I had brought books, and remained here in restfuJ quiet for more than three hours. Oh, what a deep quiet of death now encompasses these halls, where was formerly the center of the world -- the den of the she-wolf Rome! What life, ITom the grotto ofLupercal and the substructures of the Pretorians, those arbiters of world power, up to these marble-encrusted summits! Here rose the column- and pilaster-borne halls; here reigned a greatness, and shone a magnificence, of which we weaklings know no shadow more. Now the devastated walls stand [p. 242] scattered and sinking. Isolated red fragments protrude from the debris! The pure blue of heaven streams through the open halls; in the farthest room, the most beautiful landscapes are magically revealed as through optical mirrors; and most fortunate wouJd be the inventor who couJd faithfuJly copy these ready-made and even ftamed paintings ITom the halls of the Colosseum and the Palatine. Mighty evergreen oaks darken the base of the hill, vegetable gardens offer a touch of green in the empty spaces between ruins; heavy pieces of the wall often hang suspended in a strange equilibrium; luxuriant garlands of thick-branched ivy grow over them, and seem to hold the sinking ensemble together. From the wildest ruins in inaccessible places, the picturesque ROMAN DIARY, I 70

agave plant looks out; the wallflower (Chairanthu~ cheiri) in filll bloom shines fragrantly from a distance, often out of reach of the flower-loving Charlotte; the tender Anemone nemorosa stands in the shadow of the wild clumps of Cytisus, Vibumum, and blooming broom. [p. 243] The view ftom this southern part of the Palatine, on which we have settled ourselves, encompasses what is perhaps the most interesting part of Rome. The whole northem side is concealed ftom us, and the far-off crescent in whose heart we are standing runs, beginning at St. Peter's dome in the West, by way of the South to the East. In this great amphitheater, individual sections distinguish themselves, and each hill, each rise, forms a complete painting; and each painting wouJd have its foreground and its attractive viewpoint. As an aid to memory, I recorded the whole gallery of Nature, the Present and the Past, as follows:

West: 1.) Green height of the Janiculus, dome ofSt Peter's, group of trees of the Villa Santi. 2.) Pines and Casino Corsini (the magnificent, seen from afar!); next, the attractive Villa Giraud; beneath, the church of Pietro Montorio, with the picturesque group of trees. 3.) The Aventine, with the far-off, preening Priory of Malta; lower down, the church ofSt Sabina; as background, [p. 244] the gently decliuing ridge of the JanicuJus. 4.) Now follows the quiet valley, gently rising to the southwest, with St Paul's Gate, the city wall, the lonesome melancholy Pyramid, and the green Monte Testaccio; here the Tiber glints feebly upward, and in the distance rise the heights with the churches of St. Saba and St. Bambin Giesu [sic: Baby Jesus]. 5.) Ruins ofthe [Baths of] Caracalla; in their desolate splendor they cover a whole lowland, anciently called the Intermontium, and wouJd provide more than sufficient matter for the most shuddering moonlight paintings. 6.) Porta Capena; behind it, the picturesque tomb of Cecilia Metella; in the distance (1), the remains of the Claudian Aqueduct; ahead, the and ruins of the city wall. 7.) The green Caelian Hill (Hiigel Cij/iollls) with the lonely church of St Giovanni a Porta Latina. 8.) Caelian Hill (Berg C6/ius), with the pines and arboreal groves of the Villa Mattei; arched ruins ofthe Nerouian Aqueduct; to one side, the monastery of St Giovani a Paolo (sic: Saints John and Paul); behind, the blue distances of the Alban [p. 245] Mountain: cypress group of Domitian's Vivarium; distant mountain slope with the ruins of Palestrina. -- This painting would be breathtakingly beautiful! 9.) The Esquiline. Massive ruins of the Baths of Titus. Charming ruins of Minerva Medica. Church of the Lateran. 10.) Ruins of the Campo Vaccino, Coliseum and Arch of Constantine; splendid group of oaks of St Antonio; distance (Feme) ofTibur. 11.) Finally, the Palatine itself, on whose southern slope (Abstllrz) we are standing, encumbered as it is with many ruins, and luxuriantly green. Splendid cypresses of the Bonaventura monastery, and the lonely palm of Marcus Aurelius!

Gallery of Paintings of tbe Borgbese Palace.

January 28.

First my confession: That it is always difficult for me to make up my mind to look at paintings; the nature ofthe plastic art, which provides a much quieter and more harrnonius enjoyment, and, even more than [p. 246] this concern for my weak and limited personality, the so deeply related sense of beauty and truth of the ancients -- the greatness or psychologjcal beauty of the subjects there treated, and the characters there exhibited - this whole genius of antiquity, wholly absorbing and animating the regions of an ennobled humankind, has so possessed me, that in this dream of the world of ideas, I stilllack a sense for the enchantments of the brush.

I pass coldly by the majority of them; linger doubtfully by what attracts me, and seldom ROMAN DIARY, I 71 arrive at the pure, full, quiet and devoted contemplation which seizes upon me before the representation of the gods and godlike humans, who breathe from within the marble and, unveiling pure form from noble material, appear to me as in truth and reality - so that I would just like to take casts right away, and, praying for 's reanimation, could send the noble race out into today's world! [p. 247] 1 saw with delight the reflection of this attitude in the figures, so full of life and spirit, of Raphael! I glimpsed with reverence these noble outlines in Michael Angelo's bold representations, and thankfully honored the artists from whom 1 am separated by centuries, like these, or even millennia! - And yet the gulf which time and custom, religion and popular spirit, have opened between us and that Hesperian age of art, remains unbridgeable, and the foremost painting in the world, according to innermost feeling, stands far below the highest of the antique. From the plenitude of noble paintings, I mention only what spoke especially to my mind and spirit. In the Second Room. 1.) Holy Family by Andrea del Sarto. The Madonnas of this artist (whom I learned to know better only later, during my return journey by way of Florence ) are characterized by the distinctive expression of rustic simplicity, cheerfulness and health. These are the most joyful [p. 248] young mothers that one can see; but child and mother lack that anticipation offuture glory with which Raphael illuminated his Christ chil~ and Guido, the enthusiastic Sasso-Ferrato, and the tender Fra Bartholomei their Madonnas. This conflation (Vereinigung) of the Virgin, who rejoices and loves as a mother -- [with] the mother who is filled with ecstasy and pain, moved in her heart by exalted words of the future -- and whose joy is replicated in every womanly heart, as every human heart feels penetrated by her sorrows, while every believing mind is raised on her wings of presentiment - was a new gift of the Christian religion to art. But as the arts shook off the chains oflong-continued barbarism, it was only painting that awakened; the art of sculpture will never do so under a northern sky and amid northern customs. This is evident from the mere thought of a Madre di Pieta (sic), such as even an artist as conversant with the antique as Michael Angelo executed; [p. 249] and when Hellas and Ionia once awaken, ab! then the pious enthusiasm (die fromme Schwiirmerey) which alone creates worthy Madonnas will be long and totally passe.

2.) An old schoolmaster in a recliuing chair, by Guido; extremely ! Asmus' "once quietly sat in a reclining chair" suddenly recurred to all of us. 3.) The Raising of Lazarus, by Garofalo; quiet, heartfelt and holy! Why have the artists not more often given us scenes from this inexpressibly touching and charming episode of the life of Christ1 They have simply been afraid of beauty, and made vows of pain and sacrifice, even including [a sacrifice of?] the practice of art, which must often have become a torment to them. Third Room. 1.) Portraits of Machiavelli and Casar (Cesare) Borgia, highly individualized, and frightfully characteristic; that ofthe latter by Tiziano. [p. 250] 2.) A very charming Nun by the same, and to me the most lovely painting of Titian that I have yet seen.

3.) Holy Family, by my dear Francesco Penni, whose brush is so tender and clean, his tints so harmonious -- and who paints such lovely Christ-childs. ROMAN DIARY, I 72

4.) Samaritan Woman by Ginglianello. The inexpressibly noble head of the exalted woman makes me anxious to see more of this artist.

F ollrth Room. I.) The world-famous [Saint] Cecilia by Domenichino, who has been repeated for us by Guercino as a Sybil and even as Dido. A most charming woman; but in spirit (Geist), how:fur she stands below Raphael's inspired heroine in Bologna! 2.) Entombment, by Raphael. The most famous painting of this greatest gallery of Rome; the first work of the young Raphael in Rome, and to me of all of them so dear in heart [p.251] and soul! I would greatly prefer it (1 hinversetzen) to the stilo .~uhlimo of painting, or of Raphael. Simplicity of spirit, inwardness of feeling. and the strictest chastity in the outlines, is (sic) united in this noble painting with an inexpressibly ethereal lightness (which I would not for anything in the world call weakness). The composition is very understandable; the figures have in their poses that tranquility of inner feeling which the newer artists of both chisel and brnsh so often try in vain to awaken in the viewer by mannerism and noisy movement (the Germans only where they allow theselves to be led astray by Franks and Brits [yon Franken und Britten). The male figure who raises the body with an extreme effort is ofunsurpassable truth, and the tenderest beauty; a young woman in a green garment, kneeling with lightly raised arms.

3.) A beautiful St. Catherine, by the young Raphael; these women of the young Raphael [p. 252] are real Eves before the fall, the product of an angelic fancy. 4.) Splendid Madonna of Gaudenzio di Ferrara.

5.) Portrait of Raphael (I don't know by whom), very much like the noble youth in the School of Athens. 6.) Youthful works of Raphael. Sweet idea of the mother, suckling her twins; were they not twins, she would be the most virginal Madonna, with her modestly lowered Perugino eyelids. This young Raphael is still coming to be my idol! In the Marriage at Cana there is a Christ on whose forehead all the godliness of the world's great Creator, spreading itself over the fiery (in the Loggie), appears as thongh at the dawn of day. It is this presentiment of greatness, in conjunction with youthful simplicity, that makes the young Raphael so enchanting. He himself does not yet know the genius that is bearing him aloft! [p. 253] 7.) Sleeping Children by Annibale Carracci; they are two young heroes. 8.) Lovely Agatha by Leonardo da Vinci.

Fifth Room. 1.) Famous painting of Tiziano: called Earthly and Divine Love. God knows! on neither of these prettily tinted ladies is visible any breath of love, still less a spark of divine love. 2.) Madonna, of Andrea del Sarto.

3.) Some fine portraits by Tiziano. His portraits, of aU those 1 know, are the most beautiful. ROMAN DIARY, I 73

And now my receptivity for today was exhausted to the very depths - I hastened to the Villa Doria in order to find myself again amid flowers and greenery. Climbing a mountain does not exhaust me, even physically, as much as wandering through a picture gallery.

Beginning ofthe Carnival [p.254] January 30. At the hour of noon it was permissible for all Romans to put on an external mask – and one can perhaps truly say that today nobody yet put on two, one on top of the other; for today it was mostly only children, or people from among the joyless and never masked proletariat, who wore masks. We first drove around in the smaller streets, and then into the Corso. The jubilation of all the children, seeing themselves also masked in the crowd, is inexpressible. But today was just a prelude; and hardly one-tenth of the human masses which were squeezed together, in carriages and on foot, on chairs, benches, and in windows, are masked. I enjoyed seeing many a one who, miserable and dressed in rags, behind his black oilcloth nose, as though sheltered beneath a great amulet, forgot the sorrows of his life in jubilation! [p. 255] Death's-heads and cadavers' faces, frightfully realistically made, wandered around with and fauns! I saw only two beautiful masks in antique style; and I would like to wager that they [each] concealed either a man or an ugly but charming woman -- for a beautiful [woman] would not have thought herself sufficiently unrecognizable, whereas an ugly one must still be charming to have chosen with such good taste. It was amusing to see two carriages on whose high boxes two tender pretty little women drove a load of heavyset men. Also attractive was a Whysky [vehicle], in front of which fine, black, fiery horses, harnessed in rose garlands, were led by a young lady. Harlequins, hunchbacks, disguised graybeards, and little boys disguised in fish-scales swarmed around together. The wallpapers and silk curtains hanging from the windows made a cheerful sight; but the weather was dim, [p. 256] with Scirocco air. How this wind and its accompanying haze drain the color and spirit ITom everything is known to all who are acquainted with it.

On the whole, the Roman women are dressed in a variegated, overdone and tasteless manner; and the study ofthe antique, which is imitated by the current mode (coming. however, by way of England), is visible in their drapery. The bodily formation is strong and compact, rather than tender and attractive. Regular and pronounced features are commonplace; but it is seldom that an expression of good nature and lively feeling animates these often stiff features, which clearly betray the lack of inward cultivation. Among the women of the popular classes one sees noticeably more beauty, spirit, and physiognomy, for with the other group, pride, fashion and boredom have done away with their natural qualities and even killed the instinct which tunes every feminine being to mildness and ROMAN DIARY, I 74 agreeableness. [p. 257] The Quackeri23 and Harlequins quickly recognized us as foreigners, and shouted a thousand gaudy jokes into our carriage; but they always remained within the bounds of gallantry ITom the times of chivalry. For the blond-haired children, oranges, both sugared and natural, and bonbons of every good kind (for the times of the tricky plaster bonbons have not yet come) rained into the carriage. We were equipped to reciprocate, but always received more sweet words and things than we were able to give back in view of the limitations of our Italian word and sugar supplies. After driving up and down the Corso once or twice, at a foot's pace and interrupted by long pauses (to turn off into a side street was not to be thought of in view of the ever-increasing floods of people), it seemed to me as if! were spinning around in the rainbow shimmer of an immense soap bubble [p. 258]. The really oppressive air in the Corso, filled as it was with so many thousand people and already narrow and closed in by truly mountainous palaces, made it difficult for me to breathe. This whole dolls' world flowed together in monstrous, formless masses, and glimmering colors danced before my eyes; the many-voiced clamor became duller, seemed to grow more remote, and I would have sunk into a fainting-like sleep, had I not been awakened by the noise of the twenty-four horses just dashing off, and the popuJar jubilation arising to heaven. Heard, seen and gone! in a matter of two seconds! Quickly as the wind furrows the waves of the sea, these zephyr-like little horses divide the popular masses, which flow together again behind them, without a trace of their hoofs remaining in the sand, or oftbeir lightsome flight in the roadway -- ITom where one cannot follow them with the eyes to the goal, for which reason the drama loses much of its interest. This time, people are awaiting much pleasure [p. 259] from the Carnival, since for the past four years the Roman population has been given no . They could be wrong! For one asks whether, during these four years, the people's sense of pleasure has been nurtured or repressed?

23See Goethe's description of the Roman Carnival. ROMAN DIARY, I 75

BRUN95-X X. (February 4-19, 1796) Carnival Scenes.

[p,260] February 4 [1796]. The Scirocco, and its even more obnoxious cousiu, the southeast wind (Libecciv), have raged so implacably the last few days, and shaken down so much stupidity and fever on me from wings loaded with the vapors of the Pontine Marshes, that I have seen and felt everything through the double gauze of the ash-colored air without and the confused senses within. In the afternoon we paid another visit to the Corso, and again with the carriage, for we lack acquaintances with whom we might find a window on the Corso. The crowd and the madness, as the festival nears its end, increase with every hour. But I find very little variety in this ulticolored whirl offolly; one bursting soap bubble is like another, and the complete stupor which attacks me, when [p. 261] I have watched the spectacle for a quarter of an hour, spoils it completely for me. Goethe's description, true as it is, was really much too charming, and, through the medium of his ordering min~ proceeded in a far more lively way (viellebendiger) than the reality appears on the auimated canvas. They do tell me that the Carnival has never been less brilliant than this year; that the lightsome joyousness of the people decreases ITom year to year -- that the growing poverty is apparent in the dress of all classes, etc. And there was really small trace of the blooming imaginative influence of a milder heaven! The eye was seldom pleased by a well-ordered costume; and even more seldom was it charmed by a beautiful and innovative mask.

The women of the upper classes mostly have such a yellowish complexion, an~ in addition, are so painted, that we often had trouble in distinguishing between mask and not-mask. [p.262] And often it was equally difficult to distinguish the end of the mask ITom the beginning of the immodestly bared bosom. The lack of propriety among the Roman women is quite a novelty for a northern lady, and I wholeheartedly cried out, with Walther von der Vogelweide, Friedrich Miinter, and Leopold Count Stollberg: The ftuit of my travels was An appreciation of German decorum!

Tbe Farnese Palace.

February 5.

In my view the first in Rome, and, they say, built according to Michael Angelo's directives. And it stands, like St. Peter's dome among Rome's churches, like a mountain among the palaces of the Eternal City, when viewed ITom the Montorio. The deep, dark courtyards of these immense dwellings have something uncanny about them; above all, this lonely grass grown [p. 263] one, around which the majestic building rises on the three orders of the Doric, Ionic and Corinthian pilasters! ROMAN DIARY, I 76

Room of the Farnese Palace.

As is known, it was painted al Fresko (sic) by the Carracci, especially the great Annnibale. The whole is so overladen that it is difficult to distingnish the details. The two groups of Polyphemus and are without doubt the most finished masterpieces on these walls, which are dedicated to the play of an unrestrained imagination! On the smaller painting are some of the highest and most delightful charm. But I had to pass the large group rapidly and with eyes averted. Not Polyphemus, but the highly animated and voluptuous Galatea made me blush to the very heart! Depicted with this realism are several episodes in this great epic of the Venus of Guido's (Cuidos); for example [p. 264] Jupiter with Juno wearing the girdle of Venus, where the father of the gods is degraded to a . I fled with my glances to the frightfuJly beautifuJ representation of Perseus, who, appearing with the head of Medusa, transforms the wild struggle of the Centaurs, inflamed by a bacchanal, to deathly stillness. Here life ceases to breathe before your very eyes, and the paleness of marble spreads itself over those who have seen the Medusa! Perhaps the noble thought of the great Annibale was deeper than ordinary onlookers imagine! Perhaps the great esthetician wished to supply an antidote together with the poison, and to quench the flames of sensuality with the picture of congealing death? Beautiful, cheering and lovely is a ceiling: The Triumph of Bacchus and Ariadne. With a light hand she gnides the brilliant team of the fawning tigers; and the whole train of ideas of a loudly celebrating joyous troop, in the most brilliant colors, floats lightly past your gaze!

[p.265] The Farnese Hercules. Truly a hero! For such repose rewards only such deeds! What a head! for me, an ideal of strength, united with the most good-natured joviality! How fine is his strong tousled hair, and the ambrosian beard. Viewed ITom the front, the weight of the shoulders, and the hugely road chest, seem to press upon the lower part of the body - seem, I say; but ITom the left side at the window, seen in half profile, 1 could not tire of looking at him. Oh, high antique, my moral sense pays homage to thee! To thee, my esthetic sense! To thee, eye and heart! These pure, detached forms of clear concepts never mislead me, nor do I ever blusb before a work of antiquity! Good old fellow! I rejoice to see you again in Campania in life-breathing marble. How heartily he is allowed the conquered golden fruits of the , which he holds in his quiet right hand!

[p.266] February 6. At last one can again breath more normally. Scirocco and Libeccio have fled away, and the former is perhaps already hastening over the Apennines to my beloved Alps, where, under the name of the Fon, it is loosening the fetters of the glacial streams with its warm breath and heralding the springtime. But here, spring has appeared! It looks down ITom the reddish clouds, and everything buds, sprouts and greens as it does with us in April. We drove via the Campo Vaccino, Via Sacra and Arch of Titus, past the Coliseum, through the Arch of Constantine, to the Palatine. The spring sun shone warmly; high up between the ruins of the Palatine bloomed the white and red crests of the almond trees, and birds sang from the laurels. Through the (Saint) Paul's Gate and past the Pyramid, passing beneath the Aventine, we reached the bank of the Tiber, where the Temple of Vesta still stands, and the Corinthian columns of the Temple of ROMAN DIARY, I 77 [p. 267] Fortuna virilis. and the remains of the bridge named for Horatius Cocles, lie before us. Getting out at this very interesting spot, I soon found, going down to the riverbank near one of the small landing places, a green spot overlooking the stream, where pretty young women were drying laundry and happy little children were romping about. Granite stumps of former columns stood there, and ships' cables and chains ofthe Tiber mills were attached to them! A mighty trunk of splendid black and white Egyptian granite served us for a table, and nearby ones as chairs. Here we breakfasted, bathing to our heart's content in the Hesperian sunbeams. Beneath us swirled the Tiber; and the ruins of the white marble Ponte Rotto, which the Scipios had vainly tried to set against the current, testified, "Here will Father Tiber suffer no yoke!" Beyond the river, Montorio bore its pine groves on gentle heights in clear air; and the nine great [p. 268] Corsini pines waved a greeting to the dear friends who left me yesterday, and are now hastening through the Pontine Marshes into the Campagna felice! We drove over Ponte Sesto to the . On the bridge there opens, beside the finely grouped trees of the Villa Mattei, a picturesque view of distant blue mountains. We now entered the Trastevere quarter, which is crowded with beautiful women and children, and where Raphael undoubtedly studied diligently. The women of Trastevere have almost uniformly beautiful foreheads, eyebrows and eyes; the profile, too, is often fine and noble; the facial color is clear and ftesh; only the mouth, in contrast, is almost always large and vulgarly opened. Then we drove out the little subsidiary to Ripa Grande, that Tiber bank where once the camp ofPorsenna stood, and where now the Pope is having poor children trained as artisans. Beautiful ITom here is the view of the greening Aventine, raising its prond head from lovely [p.269] groves of trees, and past whose foundation the Tiber rapidly flows. From old Rome we then subsided into the midst of the maniacal throng in the Corso, and drove past the Antonine Column, where I smilingly thought of our dear M**n - who, on this spot, in the midst of the clamorous Shrove Tuesday mob, responded to my lively exclamation, "Oh, look how beautifully the Column is reddened by the evening glow!" by shortly and drily remarking, "Say rather how it blushes!"

February 7.

I spent the morning with my children, quietly and happily, [in the grounds of] the stately and beautiful Villa Pamphili. Here it is the most beautiful blooming time of the many-colored Anemone Petano. The great meadow -- splendidly beautifuJ, enwreathed by the most beautifu] pines and oak groves, was quite covered with these dew- and color-sparkling flowers. What a riot of colors blooms beneath [p. 270] this heaven! Modestly in the shadow to one side, scattered in small isolated groups among the tree-roots, bloomed the tender but strongly scented _ Anemone nemorosa, which also adorns Zealand's romantic beechwoods; but spread out in colorful display on the sunny meadow were the straw- and lemon-yellow, purple and scarlet-red violets [VeilchenJ and sky-blue violas [ViolettenJ, white and poppy-colored homonyms [NamesschwestemJ in luxuriant plenty. The inexpressible joy of the children, who had soon decorated my hat and filled my lap, was a real spring festival. "Mother," cried little Cbarlotte, "the meadow shines like the starry heaven!"

Last Evening of tbe Carnival.

February 9. All caprice, all

jollity, all mischief and high spirits, all madness and craziness were today ROMAN DIARY, I 78 squeezed together as at a central point, ITom which they [p. 271] spread out in rays. The side streets to left and right of the long Corso were occupied on both sides by brilliantly colorful equipages from all periods, with Whyskys and high-roIling phaetous and miserable fiacres, while the middle was occupied by streams ofPulcinellos, Taborros, Baggaros, amd Quakeris; the vehicles had to remain where they were, for the Corso itself had long since been crarumed full of wheeled traffic. The pedestrians streamed, pressed, flowed this way and that; now in great masses, as though blown together by the storm, and now as though thrown backward by a sudden ebb tide. The din, the noise and hubbub of all tones en masse, and the heat in the Corso were today really unbearable; and yet, in spite of the ceaseless complaints which the pedestrians had to put up with, in spite of the continuous pushing, stepping, pressing, despite all the mischief that was practiced, I have not heard a single unfriendly word; which, with such passionate people, seems unbelievable, but [p. 272] is none the less true, because the passionate enjoyment of pleasure in these days excludes everything else, even jealousy. The women disguised as men, and men as women, occasioned much laughter. Such a tall young Roman fellow, in a t10wing white woman's skirt with colorful hat and long corset (Leibchen), is one of the funniest caricatures. But, unfortunately, the high-bosomed and broadhipped Roman women in men's costume were more offensive than laughable; for the female form requires, in proportion to its femininity, all the more gentle envelopment Of beautiful, bacchantelike fiery faces 1 saw many today among the ladies; and also many women whose figures were largely and nobly defined; and indeed one can say that this is generally true in the popular classes. But the forms are heavy, the shoulders broad without pleasant slope, and the related parts actually exceed by far Helen's beaker-based dimensions;24 the hips are often excessively strong. But [p.273] the slow and dignified walk of the Roman woman is very characteristic; they pace majestically along, and in this the ordinary Roman woman outdoes our proudest dames. Many a woman of Trastevere seemed to me to ambulate like a Juno, with a solemn fiery look of her great eye. Today it was impossible to get out of the Corso; one had to let oneself be slowly moved along with the halting coach traffic, and each time, in the strait formed by the Ruspoli Palace, to hold out under the ever more lively artillery of the constantly larger plaster bonbons (which are pumice-stones coated with plaster, often in the size of an almond). Deep in the Corso, the twilight was already begiuning; the unfortunate [riderless] horses, irritated by hung-on spurs, had already panted past us, and the sun had set; and still we were slowly pusbed forward with the column of coaches.

The monstrous hubbub, the enthusiastically disobliging people, the coaches attempting, with the greatest danger but vainly, to get past each other, the heat, everything multiplies itself from moment to moment! It was almost night, and we were in ftont ofthe Palazzo Ruspoli; ftom both sides rained plaster confetti, which were not actually aimed at our carriage but which we had to admit through our lowered windows in order to avoid getting glass splinters in our eyes. The persistence of the throwers on both sides - who, ignoring the cries of those who were hit, continued to throw untiringly -- and, even more, the grim features of the half-masked heads, and the angry tones behind the fully masked ones, made it easy for me to believe that the two parties into which Rome is divided had mutually entrenched themselves and were using the opportunity to insult each other with impunity; for here everything was pressing together. The concbs, shell horns, and trumpets of the Pulcinellos -- the Bm! of the Quakeri, which buzzes like a brnsh fire through the entire Corso; the Charivari of the choruses of both, who besieged my carriage with bells, kitchen mortars, zithers, dulcimers, fiddles, often thirty men strong - the devil masks, which broke through the growing darkness like hellish faces, with enormous black, fiery red and yellow noses -- this

24The original reads: "... die ihnen verwandten Theile gehen sagar weit uber den Becherumfang der Helena hinaus ...... " (Translator's note.) ROMAN DIARY, I 79 whole, ever growing monstrosity made up an ensemble which finally formed itself into such hideous groups that I began to feel giddy; but both children (Charlotte bitterly weeping) lay down on the floor of the coach, with wrapped heads and covered ears, and vowed "Never in their life to go to the Carnival." The roughness of these throats which had shouted themselves hoarse, the mad pursuit of enjoyment on the part of the thirsty ones, and, in the midst of the stream of rapidly abating sensual pleasure, those who still thirsted for amusement - this outcry bordering on the convulsive, accompanied by the unveiled demeanor of the lowest enjoyment, was a drama such as I had never dreamed of. [p. 276] Fear possessed me. I felt oppressed and anxious, as in the entrance hall of Tartarus. -- Oh! truly I saw before me the agonizing troop of the Danaldes and Tantalides! Poor, unhappy, degraded people, condemned to find joy only in the worIdof masks - how I felt your deep abasement!

February 10. Until this day we have lived in the great guest bouse of Signor Sarmiento, on the Spanish Square, overrun as it is by foreigners, and amid all the inconveniences of a Roman inn. Because of smoke I cannot heat my own fireplace, and yet all the cutlet, onion, and fried food exhalations from the big house-kitchen come right up to me! Furthermore, on the Spanish Square one lives directly amid the horrors of Rome's non-police! Often is heard in the evening. ITom the nearby steps of Trinita dei Monti, the frightful sonG amazzatol [Ym killed!] and the duJl [p. 277] sound of the falling corpse; while the culprit escapes unpunished, or takes refuge on the nearby church steps (or buys a letter of exemption ITom the butler of Cardinal AI***i for four Paoli; as everyone has told me in Rome). Opposite me stands the palace of the Spanish Ambassador, who confers immunity on this square. There I have seen a coacbman ITom the neighborhood, who had stuck his dagger deep into the bosom of his young wife, standing openly in the doorway for days on end! On the prettily decorated square next the fountain, all offal and all vegetable remnants from the palaces, inns and houses are heaped up; without ever thinking of conveying this expensive fertilizer to Rome's barren fields, and getting rid of this fermenting and pestilential mass. Children and poor people dig around in it, gnaw hungrily on the broccoli stalks, and in seeing this one forgets to pity Yorick's donkey gnawing on an artichoke stem.

(p.278] We escaped all this today in the direction of [Santa] Trinita dei Monti, up the Strada Gregoriana, where, for the sake of the clear air, quiet, and lovely view, I have taken up residence - with, as they say, the meanest woman in Rome (a painter's widow), whose house no foreigner ever left without a lawsuit. 1 spent the day with my ITiends, the excellent painter and Professor Hetsch from Stuttgart and his delightful wife. Hetsch is perhaps the first portrait painter of his time. An equestrian portrait of the Duke ofWiirttemberg, exhibited shortly before our arrival and then sent off, was the admiration of all Roman artists; now he is working on an enchanting children's group. Two surviving children of the Duchess carry the third, who recently died, crowned with flowers, upward as in triumph. The children appear as spirits in a sweet state of nature; and every mother would like to see her lost darling so represented! [p. 279] Ah! the tender father did not guess, as he was poetically painting this charming transfiguration, that meanwhile the last hour of his own darling was approaching. The gentle mother did not realize that her eye, oft lingering in tender tears of longing on the lovely picture - to which the father's heart had transferred the lineaments of his own heart's child -- would soon seek in this gentle group the picture of her own departed angel (for her ROMAN DIARY, I 80

second son died of smallpox in Stuttgart while she was in Naples) in the friendly spirit (Genius) who bears the smaller angel on his shoulder!

February 11. How comfortable we are in our new lodgings! Here the cheering hearth fire glows on damp mornings and cool evenings; 1 look past the house-covered heights ofthe Pincio (on whose nearby slope I live) into the old Campus Martius, and, past its houses, upward to the [p.280] green crescent of the Montorio, JanicuJus and Monte Mario; and thus I overlook the northwestern and westsouthwestern part of Rome! On the right I have the whole facade and dome ofSt Peter's, and look straight into Raphael's Loges and on a part of the Vatican where the Belvedere is. From my window I see the sun declining into the pines of the Villa Corsini, and the cypresses of the Villa Millini illuminated by the early morning light. Ah! and in the evening the holy constellations arise before my ever-longing gaze! Do you feel my happiness? Did you sense that you were being thought of as, today, the evening star projected its friendly glance from out of tattered clouds? *** We continued our visits to the artists living in Rome, making use of the CamiyaJ period when all galleries are closed. [p.281] Professor Carstens from Schleswig.

A scion of that noble line which, hopefully, we shall long remember through the universally revered Confidential Counsellor and Chamber-President Carstens, who remains the object of profoundest love by those fortunate enough to have known him. The Roman Carstens - whom I blush to call by that name, for his fatherland did far too little for him, and that little far too late, to be entitled to claim him for its own - was deuied [the possibility of] early training and appropriate study by an untoward fate and by the anti-artistic spirit of the North (der Kunst erstickende Geist des Nordens), and it was only belatedly that he was able to go to Italy. But he struggled with fate like a man! He devoted himselfto historical painting, and often chose strange and, one might say, abstract subjects, ITom the Theogony ofHesiod, for example, and sometimes with even greater success from Homer.

[p. 282] The composition of his often very large and full representations is rational, understandable and noble. His style is broad, and one recognizes the deep study of Michael Angelo and Raphael in both; the contemplation of his sketches was always an undiluted pleasure for me; for understanding and imagioation are satisfied and nurtured. Dante's Bottomless Pit, Ossian's Fingal, Aristophanes' Clouds, and Lucian's Tirann (sic), who bears the shoemaker's shadow on his proud shoulder over the , are representations as popular as they are really humorous. Hardly anyone will look without laughing at Socrates [sic: Diogenes?] in the Basket. Fingal is large and noble, struggIing with the spirit Loda, and felt with deep fantastic truth. But the dearest to me of all his sketches was "Homer as a Rhapsode." Even Raphael would not have been ashamed of this composition!

1.) Rape of Ganymede, painted for the Duke of Bristol. [p. 283] Great is the downward view with the eagle from the height of Mount Ida's summit, from already dawning skies upon the still darkling earth; for it is the first dawn of a terrible morning, and morning red spreads itself on the eastern horizon. The Scamander flows into the dark sea. But high climbs the eagle, kingly indeed, and painted with greatest fire as comrade of the nectar; but Ganymede is cold, and very dryly painted. ROMAN DIARY, I 81 2.) Space and Time. The latter [Time] is represented as quite young (for only we grow old; time is ever newborn) with the hourglass in his hand; the former [Space] is shown with the earthly sphere, the symbol of all-encompassing space. Both are noble, lightly floating figures. 3.) Night with her two children, Sleep and Death. The figure of Night is large and extremely touching. She turns back the broad mantle ofthe two spirits, slumbering by her side in the most charming positions, and looks [p. 284] smilingly down at them in quiet sweet melancholy.

In short, intellect, strength and ingenuity were sufficiently melded in this modest workshop of genius to animate ten ordinary artists; but Carstens is forty-one years old, and still no painter, and therefore will never become one! So sternly does the material to which he did not soon enough subject himself take vengeance on the innocent. Now, in copying this out ITom my diary written in Rome, the noble Carstens has completed his path of anxiety and suffering. He died in the struggle of his fiery genius with its feeble envelope. Well for him that he departed early for the land where one no longer needs pallet, brush and colors to reveal high thoughts to kindred spirits! His friend Fernow, amid the storms of collapsing Rome, was the true comrade of his sufferings, and was gratefully designated as the heir of his artistic treasures. [p. 285] May time and circumstances make it possible to carry out his plan of making his friend's sketches available to the public on self-engraved sheets (in selbstradirten Bliittern), in order that the coming generation of Danish artists, after the loss of Abildgaard's paintings, may yet see before it a treasure of teaching and a goal of imitation. Or should Denmark really eutirely renounce its Carstens in death as in life? Should all the rare flowers of art which our cold heaven brings forth die out from lack of loving care, and eternal barbarity freeze (umstarren) our coasts? The dedicated temples and chambers of earlier times, the groves of the arts, have been desecrated, destroyed and plundered through the depredations of blasphemous barbarians, and their ever fragrant blooms, their pearls, have been scattered about as things of no worth! And we, in the shadow of the olive and the palm tree, amid growing wealth and luxury, what have we done to assure ourselves of even one work of art, in this [p. 286] period when one could have purchased masterworks tor a mere nothing? Oh, why do we not avail ourselves of the law of the seashore, in order simply to haul ashore the rich remains of southern Europe? How will Britain luxuriate in the acquisition of art treasures! Ah! how the stolen gods and heroes are mouming in rank, blood- steaming Paris! We would be amassing future riches - and kindling the extinguished flames on the abandoned altar ofthe fine arts!"

[p. 287] Woutky, a Bohemian; a landscape painter, especially fumous for his Vesuvius (Vesuv-Hollen).

25It would still not be too late to entrust to sure hands and trained eyes a sum raised by subscription from the rich and comfortable inhabitants of Denmark for the purchase of antiques and pictures; for the inward misery of these two unfortunate cities [Paris and Rome?] has apparently not yet reached its peak. The inhabitants would then donate the art treasures assembled in this way to the Academy of Arts, for general use. I made this proposal to a number of our businessmen and patriots already in the autumn of 1797. -- I repeat it here with the heartfelt wish that it may find hearers. The Author. ROMAN DIARY, I 8 2 1.) He it is who transferred the interior of the crater ofMt Aetna from the depths of night onto canvas; and, moreover, in that condition in which Hamilton saw it seventeen years ago, when a hill raised itself up within the crater, immediately spitting fire, and formed an island within the glowing sea. Sulfurous flames with their bluish tongues lick at the outer funnel-rim of the crater, and the stones with colored sulfur-flowers whiz past almost before the eyes of the astonished spectators. 2.) The Eruption of Vesuvius, which made a desert of Atrio del Cavallo [sic] twelve years ago in filling this valley between Vesuvius and Somma with a horrible outpouring oflava. One sees the glowing stream rapid1y rolling through the steep mountain valley. Sky and sea are joined in fiery reflection. Far above Sorrento's coast, the moon rises and quietly reflects itself in the sea. [p. 288] 3.) The Solfatara above Pozzuoli. The fine sulfur dust that veils all objects is depicted with unequaled art, and from high above one sees the sea rolling long waves onto a flat shore. 4.) View from the Camaldolensian Cloister behind the Grotto ofPosillipo. The distant sea in this noble painting is unsurpassably great, and the uniform movement of the waves is very realistic. I heard the murmur ofthe surf Deep on the horizon, the heavy clouds descend on misty waves (as I subsequently often saw in Naples). Afar off, Ischia rises from the mist The foreground is fine in [its treatment of] the masses; the patient rendering of tree and shrub is frankly not the specialty of this painter, who likes best to pit the sea, fire and earth against each other. 5.) Storm near Naples. With astonishing boldness, this is snatcbed ITom the lap of the present -- the representation of a moment!

6.) I liked less the Waterfall ofTerni; here, Reinhardt surpasses Woutky.

[p. 289] In this house, in which the artists have nested like faithful swallows, we visited the widow of Pompeo Battoni. We saw a few more pictures ofthis artist, well known among the more recent painters of Rome. I ITankly admit that I never had much taste for one of his pictures. Here, too, reigns a decorative charm; the coloring lacks truth, it is just a motley palletflower. But there was here one fine paiuting, which they said was a Nicholas Poussin (but which, according to Hirt, is by Romanelli, and according to Hetsch, a copy after Poussin). However tbat may be, it gave me great pleasure. Armida is carrying off Rinaldo, who is held fast by a magical slumber. The group formed by the gracious enchantress, with the slumbering hero in her lap, and surrounded by lightly fluttering spirits, is really delightful! The landscape is broadly conceived; cool shadows, and a splendid blue distance such as only Poussin paints that way.

The Capitoline HilL [p. 290]. February 12.

Carl, thrilled and proud to be my guide today to this greatest and smallest of the hills of the old and new world, accompanied me aJone, and I surrendered to his guidance in a spirit of willingness to learn. ROMAN DIARY, I 83 First the Tarpeian Rock was visited. The site which is claimed to be that of the old Stage of Death is on the eastern height of the Capitoline Hill. But the terrain is so raised by all the strata of ruins of the ancient world, and the slight depth resulting is so built over with dependent structures, that I could form no idea at all of what had been there before, and was very reluctant to exchange my former fanciful idea for this poor, bare reality. Down below, the swampy terrain ofVelabrii is still recognizable, and an old basilica stands there. 1 passed through a vegetable garden to the extreme southern edge ofthe precipice; and here 1 was [p. 291] surprised by one of the most touching panoramas of old Rome. To my right, above the Tiber, stood the fair Aventine, green with its gardens and crowned by the brilliantly white Priory. To the left rose the whole Palatine in awful splendor; never before had 1 been able to seize it all in one glance like this; from the dark chambers of the Pretorian infrastructures, which wall in its foundations, to the sinking and often seemingly floating remnants through which peeps the pure blue of heaven! What masses of shadows and light what raiment of the thick ivy carpets, and what groups of trees! Like looking into the dedicated grove of the Eumenides, one gazes shuddering into the powerful darkness of these evergreen oaks; everything is large and stately on this hill of ruins; and quite in contrast to the light green and smiling Aventine, everything is none the less ordered as by a classic taste. Between the two hills lies the lengthy valley which was occupied by the Circus Maximus - and where now [p.292] vegetable gardens lie greenly on the level ground, and peach and almond trees cradle their white and reddish crowns in the mild evening breezes.

To the left stands the little church which covers up the temple of Romulus and Remus; and on the Palatine below they show the site of the Lupercalia. Between the two hills, over beyond the Circus, one glimpses the Porta Capena and the Baths of Caracalla, shining in the red of evening. To the left, next the Palatine, the Coliseum splendidly rounds itself; there appear the airy and magnificent arcades of the Temple of Peace, and far off, the picturesque remains of the Baths of Titus; to the right, the Tiber bends towardRipa Grande in a handsome curve. Long, long did I linger here on this site, sitting on the edge of the low garden wall, and Carl's joy at having first shown me this favorite view of his had no end. Now my Roman hired lackey (Miet lakey) led me to the northern precipice of the Capitoline Hill, which the people call the [p.293] Tarpeian Rock (la Rupa Tarpeia), and for whose authenticity I too preferred to cast my vote; for here the rock really does form an abrupt precipice, ITom which one could still easily fall to one's death. From here one looks into the Theater of Marcellus and across to the Janiculus. . We visited it in company with our friend Hetsch. Naturally I began with the famous antique fresco painting which was found in the Baths of Titus, and which, under the name of the Aldobrandini Wedding (Nozze Aldobrandine), has hung for some years as a colored engraving over my sofa in Copenhagen. Quiet in the representation, and a charming lightness, characterize the whole. The bride, in a suitably modest pose, is very pleasing. The female lyre-player on the right is also beautifu] but Mr. Bridegroom is most insignificant, as is the figure leaning against the altar. The completely [p.294] preserved parts of the picture bave a delightful fteshness in the coloring. From this villa's collection of paintings I mention only the following:

1.) Christ Drives the Money-Changers ITom the Temple. A miniature painting with numberless figures by Mazzolini, an old Italian painter. Care and fidelity in the treatment distinguish the painting. Many of the indescribably small miniature heads are full of expression, ROMAN DIARY, I 84 and done in a good style.

2.) Painting by Garofalo. Christ Drives the Devil Out of the Madman and Into the Swine. Despite the repellent subject, this is nevertheless a pleasing painting. The figure of Jesus and his garment would not be unworthy ofRapbaeI. John in his golden locks is full of exalted grace. A Peter or James, whose face is not visible, nevertheless expresses so much strength and fire through his mere figure that one does not mistake him. The herd of swine plunges [p. 295] down from the high bank. From a distance comes their owner, accompanied by a few people, hurrying in very lively movement. The whole picture has such harmonious tints, is felt so quietly and truly, and so authentically executed according to the old pious custom, as is no longer done today. The landscape, too, is fair as though proceeding from a childishly naIve fancy; especially the blue lake, and the high sunlit mountain peaks, and behind still higher mountains, a moumfully clouded heaven. This is a painting I would love to possess!

3.) Famous Bacchanale by Titian (Tizian), full oflife of the flesh and blood, but without soul! 4.) Splendid landscape of Joan (Giovanni) Bellini. It is a lofty, airy wood, picturesquely penetrated by the afternoon sun; but a horde of the most commonplace human groups is encamped on the swelling greenswards and the moss-covered roots, from whose confused [p. 296] movements we cannot decipher what they are actually up to? I would have liked to ask our Hetsch to cover over all these clumsy figures and to paint me a better society in the shadows of the lovely grove. My friends remained with me, and a few others joined us. The conversation focused on Winckelmann and some of the newer antiquarians. Artists and antiquarians are like fire and water to each other! Ouly the well-trained Mengs formed an exception. The truth wanders unnoticed between them, and I gladly and often listen to both parties.

Churcb of Gregorio Magno on tbe Caelian Hill

February 13. Saint Gregory fallen to his knees in enthusiastic prayer; near him, angels in the guise of youths. From the midst of the high halo of the angelic children, the dove descends. For here, Annibale Carraccio has attained the height [p. 297] of his powers through the study of his great predecessors, Raphael, Michael Angelo, Correggio and Titian (Tizian).. This painting is considered his masterpiece in Rome. BeautifuJ and correct drawing. charm of the color scheme and blooming ITeshness of the colors are spread over the whole. The angel on the right is a high messenger of Heaven, full of solemnity and fire. The Saint himself seems to me a bit mannered, as though he couJd not forget that he is not praying alone; and the painting as a whole falls short of the deep impression of powerful boldness that so strongly moved me in the great Annibale's unforgettable youthful paintings in Bologna. In a side chapel of the churcb is the cupola, painted with a halo of angels who are performing a heavenly concert. Here, my friend Guido [Reni] is quite at home. Grace, lightness and the sweet innocence of Heaven are woven into this charming wreath of ethereal blooms. The halo consists of thirteen angels, approximately life-sized. [p.298] [The painter takes] full advantage of the rounding of the cupola, in which the heavenly musicians stand behind a balustrade; on the three middle ones, in the position of the Graces, the water paints have faded badly; among the other ten, each one is different yet each has his own chamcter. Some actually glow with exultation and eternal joy; ROMAN DIARY, I 85 others gaze upward in ecstasy on the Father, and some look tenderly down on the marble statue of St. Sylvia; others are quietly sunk in the sense of their own blessedness. All have delightful wings, snow white or tinted with delicate rainbow shades. My favorites among the heavenly youths were: 1.) The two mandolin players. 2.) The one with the violin, on the left. 3.) The one with the flute, on the right. 4.) and especially the one with the tambourine, in his thick golden locks. But painting a God the Father is not Guido's affair. This one spoils everything; he sits there like a Turk who is having music made for him in the harem, sleepy and in pampered beatitude.

[p. 299] 14 February.

Strolled in St. Peter's. I am still unable to grasp any plan of this building. All these crossings and perpendicular arms of the great Cross confuse me, and people have said, to comfort me, "that artists who have lived in Rome for years could not get their bearings without consulting the ground plan." Nothing, I think, can more clearly prove that St. Peter's as a whole is great not so much through unity of aim and thought, and consistent execution, as through the hugeness of its masses. As form, to my feeling. it remains deficient The many side chapels could just as well be separate churches, and only the party walls are lacking for this; for each one has its cupola, pillars and columns, and many of them cannot even be guessed at ITom the great nave of the church. I reserve for this great nave and the noble dome the appelation of "St. Peter's," which I truly venerate but do not allow myself to be distracted by all the subsidiary work.

Villa Albani. February 15.

To see older works of art with Zoega, to enjoy the eternal youth ofNatnre with him, is an enhancement of both these spiritual joys. His mind is as fine and delicate as his taste is pure, and his deep knowledge is perhaps unique. After sacrificing to my Athene Albani the violets pledged her in my heart, we entered the gallery on the right, where, apart from a splendid ancient Greek Juno (referred to by Winckelmann under the heading of the Stilo antico secco e duro, with the bitch, there was little of merit; and this little very much restored. In the cabinet of the semi-basement I noticed: I.) The excellent coating of green breccia. 2.) The splendid great column of Oriental alabaster. 3.) The powerful lion of green basalt. [p. JOl] 4.) The bas-relief ofPhaedra and Hippolytus; the group of serving maids, Cupids and genii surrounding the languishing Phaedra is extraordinarily beautifu].

In the smaller rooms: 1.) Beautiful but much restored Cybele. 2.) Splendid Jupiter Serapis with the measure (? mit dem Maas,~e) on his head; of black basalt. Oh! how great and quiet, what a form of the head, and what hair! He ordains peace to Olympus and the earth! Then we went up to the Gallery (in den Saal), and led our art-student [zmsem KlITZ..vtadepten P**ff [pfaff] (since I, who was in Rome five weeks ahead of him, consider myself an initiate, and am over-wise, especially when with Zoega) to our beloved Leucothea, whom I find each time lovelier, gentler, more charming, nobler, and more virginal-womanly-motherly! If only the child were more beautiful; if it were as well nourished as it is graceful, and had more strength - in short, if it did not show the effects of the three months' sojoum in the calf (in der Wade) of the Thunderer -- I wouJd like to place my Leucothea immediately, as Madonna, on the high altar of the Pantheon; [where] she would certainly receive many pious vows, as we three ROMAN DIARY, I 86 guaranteed, rooted before her as we were and unable to separate ourselves ITom the charming Image.

Truly! she is there to delight every unspoiled masculine eye, and to show every maiden what female maidenhood is. After we had led our young student (for I already sometimes relieve Zoega of his burden) before the Juno, the chubby-cheeked Antinous, the fine bas-reliefs, and beneath Mengs's ceiling, we went out on the balcony, where I humbly sat at Zoega's feet and listened to his account of the early history of the Algidus Mountains (of which Mount Albanus was the southern part). Alba Longa, Rocca di Papa, Nemi, Albano, and its lakes, Marino and Castel Gandolfo lay to our right, against and upon [p. 303] darkened mountain heights. In the depression between the northern and southern peaks of the Algidus, almost directly in ITont of us, lies the so-called Campo d'Annibale, probably a sunken crater of the primeval volcano. Then follow on the left, on and over one another, Frascati on the slope, Villa Mondragone on the end ofthe hill to the north; the high groves of trees and the bare summit of the Tusculan mountain, which forms the northern horn of the Algidus, as the summit of the new Monte- Calvo forms the southern one. Near the foot of the mountain lay Labicum; then follows the level plain of the Aequi, and behind this plain rises a snow-covered mountain called Somma; then followed the Hemici, behind around the mountain. [The Aequi and Hernici were ancient tribes.] All the moderate heights are covered with snow; e.g., the Campo d'Annibale; and Soracte is as Horace describes it in his splendid ode. The Tramontana blows sharply.

[p. 304] Cbnrch Paintings.

February 16. We went today to Trastevere, to see the famous altarpiece of Annibale Carraccio in the church of Francesco a Ripa. That is a real nuclear painting (Kerngemiilde), and here I again recognize the powerful master who took such firm hold of me in Bologna. Mary holds the dead Son on her lap; it is a high, noble figure; a woman who has courage to endure, and strength to feel her grief quite through and through! The dead Christ in her lap is a hero's body, and the head is conceived in the grand manner, full of the deep repose of death. But even more beautiful than the two of them is the Magdalene, full of passion and unmixed grief, which she represses only with the utmost effort! Her face is most attractive, so womanly tearstained, and her blond locks so beautifully entwined upon her head! I'd like to call Annibale the Painter ofthe Magdalene; as they called Guido the Painter of the Madonna. [p.305] The others paint weak and yielding women; he [depicts] a high, passionate woman, one who cries out with HeloIse, "After Abelard one can love only a god!" [Saint] Francis rounds out the group, and is included because the church is dedicated to him.

The angel on the right, who holds the hand of the corpse, is a strong. courageous Roman lad, who appears ill at ease and restless for the first time in his life; there is no trace of anything angelic about him.

[Santa] Maria [in) Trastevere.

A large and venerable basilica, with high antique granite columns. On the ceiling, an Ascension of Mary, by Domenichino, is much admired. It is a lovely, fading apparition! Mary, in a blue, star- strewn garment, looks lovingly down, with mildly outspread hands, on the earth which she is leaving; there is a sweet and blessed mildness in her face and her whole attitude. ROMAN DIARY, I 87

Gregorio Magno.

I again visited the sainted Pope [Gregory VII] of Annibale. It may indeed be the most completed work of his brush; certainly it was no child of his heart! To me it seems entirely without originality, and more the result of foreign studies than a creation from one's own inwardness. In the evening I again made the splendid promenade between the Lateran and [Santa] Croce di Gerusalemme, where the view is so fine and one is surrounded by old ruins of aqueducts and walls.

February 17 and 18. Sick with fever. My good friends, Domeier, Hirt, Zoega, Fernow, come then, with so much love and fidelity, to care for and cheer me, that I forget the foreigners; all the more because every conversation here is informative, and one would have to be completely abandoned by all the Muses in order, within the walls of Rome, to fall into the tone of everyday conversation.

[p.307] February 19. Drove in lovely air across St. Peter's Square through the Porta Angelica, along the beautiful road between the Janiculus and the Tiber as far as Ponte Molle; there one alights and proceeds along the path on the inner bank of the Tiber as far as Aqua Gettosa ["Spouting Water"]; and this is one of the pleasantest spring walks around Rome. The narrow pathway leads along [?] the right bank of the Tiber, this side of the bridge. The views are so charming and picturesque, the green slopes along the banks rise and sink so gently, and the greensward lies over everything like a fine, soft garment. Before the first bend in the Tiber, the Sacred Mountain made its entrance, decked out in tender green; where it ends, a sunny meadow opens, and far off on the mountain peak shines the little town of Monticelli. On the right rises the blue mountain [chain?] of Sabina, and higher, shadow-covered hills come forward; a friendly Tivoli lies above the cleft in the hills. But splendid is the view backward over the crescent [p. 308] formed by the heights ofthe Janiculus. There the Millini cypresses rise into the blue air, and at a deeper level are displayed St. Peter's and the Vatican. The countryside is already turning green; peach, almond and plum trees bloom in the gardens; lilacs, willows and poplars overspread the roads; the sweet revivifYing breath of spring rises ITom the earth. Now the stream bends away on the left; to the right rise steep, bushy heights, and majestic distances stretch far out. The jagged Soracte thrusts upward, and soon afterward the mountain summits ofViterbo. The walk from Ponte Molle to the ornamented spring known as Aqua Gettosa is just what a convalescent likes. On the return to Porta del Popolo by way of the there is a magical view ofSt. Peter's dome, which, seen through the opening of a grotto into a defile, looks like a splendid piece of stage scenery (Dekoration) . ROMAN DIARY, I 88 BRUN95-XI XI.

Rooms of Prince Aldovrandini, in the Borgbese Palace.

[p.309] February 20,1796.

Today's visit was to this small, choice collection. We found:

1.) Its principal piece (Lionardo's fumous Christ with the Pharisees) set up on an easel for copying, in the middle of the room. After all the copies of this high work of art thatI had previously seen, [the original] was none the less completely new to me, and never suspected! Only Lionardo da Vinci could thus bring forward his Christ-ideal ITom the fullness of his noble and beautiful mind, the creation of his gentle soul. Heaven is opened in this countenance; and the longer one looks into it, the more godliness emerges ITom it. It is not only the most consummate beauty, bedewed with the purest sweetness, that attracts you so irresistibly; a clear understanding enlivens the tender figure. These heavenly [p. 310] eyes, this thoughtfuJ brow, these sweet lips of wisdom, this quietly wavy parted hair, which gently outlines the consummately beautiful form of tbe noble head, everything places before you the most fully organized and complete Son of Man, and the worthiest representative of the human race. A light veil of sadness wreathes the high countenance, without clouding this eternal cheerfulness; to anger him, the four fellows who surround him in sharpest contrast are much too low; according to my taste, they are too low in every respect. The one on the left is a real Jewish haggler, who brings junk to market - and vulgar craftiness speaks from all of them. The best thing is to forget them completely. 2.) Two landscapes by Orizonte (van Bleumen); two by Lucatelli and two by Vernet; beautiful in their way, and in their master's style. - I liked particularly a cool wood, transpierced by an Ausonian [Italian] blue heaven, by Orizonte, and a Neapolitan sea piece by Vernet.

[p.3ll] On the Top Floor 1.) A small Holy Family by Raphael, from his second period The [Saint] John here is already the boy aglow with godly fire whom Raphael is constantly developing: ITom the noble, enthusiastic and enchanted child in the Florentine Madonna., to the young prophet with the vessel (Schaale) in his right hand.

2.) Christ appears to Peter: "Follow me"! A noble thought of the great Annibale Carraccio. Sketch. 3.) Christ with the Woman taken in Adultery; a miniature ofMazzolini. Very intellectual heads, and fine architecture of the temple hall. 4.) Two charming boys, embracing and kissing, by Lionardo.

5.) A happy Madonna with the two smiling children, by Andrea del Sarto. Very charmingly and individually, this sgirited artist has conceived his Madonna as [p. 312] a cheerful blooming Florentine peasant girl. 6 26The Deutsche Merkur has informed us that the whole Aldovrandini Gallery has been bought by an Englishman for the ridiculously small price of 6,000 scudi. The painting by ROMAN DIARY, I 89 We were already in the pediment (Giebel) ofthe palace, and climbed upon its high battlement (Zinne), where a little garden with a miniature fountain and a fragrant flower arbor floats in the air, and where, in a bird's-eye perspective in the center of Rome, one commands one of the most dazzling of views. Everything appears here as in a magic circle drawn around you. The Tiber flows from St. Peter's beneath the high arches of the Angel's Bridge (ponte Sant'Angelo), streams past the Janiculus, and leads your gaze through the valley far into the mountainous distance; Soracte and the Samnian Hills shine high in the noonday radiance; the Pincio smiles in ever youthful green; [p. 313] atthe rear rises mightily the high Gennaro in the blue distances of Subiaco. Around us in a narrower circle, immortal Rome is spread out, with all its charming natural episodes, wreathed by the greening hills. Oh, Rome, you magic city, how shall I separate from you?

Before lunch we also entered the Villa Ludovisi, where a blue carpet of violets covers the earth, and one swims in sweet airs. In the afternoon we visited the villas of Cae Ii us and [Mons] Caeliolus, and then ITom Pietro Montorio saw the sun sinking.

- Ah! I must just admit, today I saw Raphael's Transfignration forthe sixth time -- the last gift of his genius to the afterworld; and it still remains to me among all Raphael's paintings the one I like least! It leaves my imagination empty, my heart cold; my impertinent reason and my taste actually find a great deal to blame in it! I would like to cry, when I see the dear sister and the beloved brother standing before it in ecstasy, while I must coldly move [p. 314} on! For the lower scene I feel all respect; only the possessed person frightens me, and his mask pursues me. The whole group of the sister, mother and apostles is pure, human and touching; but this hill, which is no higher than a haystack, where I must always fear that the sleepy James, ifhe turns a little bit more, will tumble down, disturbs the illusion. The expression of mere bemused sleepiness in the faces and positions of the three apostles does not match the height of their characters. Certainly their gestures are as naive as possible; but they are not worth the vision [being vouchsafed them). The Transfiguration itself shows me only a weak saint. This transparent body has, with its earthly garment, laid aside all strength, instead of clothing itself with the new authority ofthe world's judge. Did Raphael choose this subject? Was it given to him? I would like to find out. 1 passed the lovely evening quietly in [p. 315] my room. We satIong withoutIight, and saw the moon sail solemnly over Rome, and the evening star sparkling over the Janiculus. The lights of the city shimmered magically ITom far beneath us.

February 2 L

The early hours of the day are always spent very quietly and peacefuJly. But to me, Rome becomes dearer every day. The complete fteedom which the foreigner enjoys here, the quiet in which I draw what my small receptacle can hold ITom the fullness of the great, the beautiful and the illustrious, and the peaceful domestic existence which my feebleness requires and my natural inclination prefers, give me a clarity of ideas and self-awareness without which life is only a feverish dream. Today, in fine weather, I spent a long time in the Villa Borghese, and went walking with my friend N.B. His [p. 316] is an extraordinarily clear mind; but his natural inclination to sarcasm _ especially in the closerrelationships with Rome's great world, and with the fair Roman ladies, which his profession involves -- finds ouJy too much scope; and I fear that he gradually extends the results of his observations farther than his actual experience justifies. Only his really great good nature can shield him from this. In general, I believe that a very prolonged stay in Italy, on the part of temperaments which are not very full of benevolent love - or, on the contrary, are too much inclined Lionardo was considered one of the stars of the first magnitude in the heaven, and was among the priceless ones! ROMAN DIARY, I 90

that way -- can easily lead them to despair of morality and virtue.

February 22. An unlucky trip to Freskati (Frascati) used up this day. Friend Domeier drove me out; for truly, one must exile me ITom Rome in order to getme away atall. As we neared the heights, the cloud cover sank deeper in ITont of us; we [p. 317] drove through the cold drizzle up the mountain slopes as far as Freskati. The chambers in the inn were cold and damp, and! clearly saw the clouds hanging on the hiUs, while the plain enjoyed sunshine. My decision to go back down to Rome was quickly taken. Yet hardly had we entered the Campagna when we had clear air above us. The full moon rose out of mists over old Labicum; behind us, Algidus leaned back in its vaporous shrouds. The arches (Hallen) of the immense aqueduct and its dependencies, especially in the neighborhood of Porta Furva, where they came together, were penetrated by the moon, and the mystic shadows of the endless arcades sank down on the open fields. I couJdn't see enough of this ghostly twilight, which transpierced the giant thoughts of old time. In ITont of us, the evening star smiled down on Rome. [p.318] Cburch of St. Agnes Fuor Ie Mure.

Febmary 23.

Past the Baths ofDiocletian, out througb the Porta Pia, where immediately on the right the lovely VillaPatrici sits invitingly on its farseeing terraces, [we went} in order to visit with Zoega his favorite church, dedicated to 81. Agnes. Even its entrance is unusual; one goes down forty steps from the surface ofthe lonely fields; on the side waUs of the stairway are many gravestones of Christians ITom remote centuries, and among them we found the frieze of the sarcophagus of a child on which the following juvenile celebration was presented in stately scuJptnre. On both sides are two masks of Bacchus and his companion., Ampelo. Psyche, as a child, with butterfly wings and the beltless tunic, lies on the lectisternium, 27 and holds her right hand coaxingly under Cupid's chin as if she wished to draw him to her and kiss him. He raises himself, gently [p. 319] approaching her, and holds a vessel (c<;chaale) in his left hand, resting on the , while Psyche seems tenderly to repose upon his bosom. This group is followed by a resting figure which holds in its raised right hand a nard-flask, as if anointing the lectisternium; but with a wreath in the resting left hand There follows farther to the right a little spirit (Genius) who is busily engaged in blowing up the fire on a little hearth under the small pot. On the left side, resting at Psyche's feet, is Ipno (), the spirit of sleep; in his relaxed and sunken left hand he holds the wreath of the banquet; the right hand rests on his shouJder; next him lies Zephyr with averted but noble head, and with the fanlike leaf of the Nymphea (water lily?) in his right hand. There you have ITomZoega's lips the description ofthisdelightfuJ children's love-feast, served by friendly spirits. This monument has not yet been described, and I chose it immediately as the frontispiece- vignette for the second edition of my poems. The work, [p. 320] it is true, is only sketched, but the position of the lovely children is so charming, and the thought of the whole so naive! Now, finally, I bring you down into the church, which is a small, regnlar basilica built in the very best conditions. The proportions of this pleasant, half subterranean building are clear and simple; the daylight falls gently between the frieze over the colonnade and the decorative ceiling. Notfornothing is it Zoega's favorite little church, and Hiet's model of a purely orthodox basilica. Antique columns of many kinds stand here: four big ones ofPorta Santa, a rare and beautiful type of marble, supportthe

27A feast offered placed to the gods, in which their images were food on couches and note) . was put before them (Translator's ROMAN DIARY, I91 high altar, on which the Saint sits alone with antique heathen torso and very fine antique alabaster garment. This church was built in the fourth century in the time of the Emperor Theodosius. Tomb of Saint Constantia.

A rotunda and, in Hirt's opinion, [p. 321] the actual grave monument of St. Constantia, Constantine's niece. Here stood among the niches, dug out of the encircling walls, the magnificent porphyry sarcophagus, decorated with splendid grapevines and clusters, which now stands in the M.P.Cl. [MuseoPio-Clementino]. A double circular colonnade surrounds the innermost vaulted space, but the columns are unequal in height, thickness, proportions, and capitals, and of different types and colors of granite. The vaulting of the thick one is decorated with attractive arabesques in inlaid work, representing in part angels (or rather spirits) and in part the jolly business of the vintage, the treading and the bringing in [ofthe new wine ]. This, and the grapes and spirits on the sarcophagns in the grave monument of a Christian saint, seem to prove that some considerable time elapsed before the cheerful death pictures of the ancients were driven out by the frightful images which married fanaticism and gloom to the most cheerful and human of religions. [p. 322] This grave is still surrounded by a vineyard, on whose gentle slope it lies.

We lingered, sitting on severed vine-shoots, in the heavenly mild midday sunshine, our gaze falling on the nearby villas of the Romans. As we passed the ruins of the Hippodrome ofTheodosius, Lotte found a piece of marble with an inscription which she excitedly brought to her friend Zoega. It was a fragment of an antique funerary inscription which a man had dedicated to his wife and fteed slave, with handsome lettering of a good period; but on the back of the stone Zoega also found words of an inscription with bad lettering from later centuries of . The Christians stole the gravestones from the poor heathen, and reversed them like an old garment. This must often have given rise to comical contests among the antiquarians.

We afterward climbed the high staircase of the villa of the Braschi Princes, where a splendid [p. 323] view opens over the plain between Labicum and Praeneste, closing with the hilly terrain of the AIgidus and Tibur. How the splendid mass of Algidus lay there! Howpicturesque were the light and shadow over Tibur's white houses, and in the mountain ridges that rose one behind the other, mixed, until sparkling snow, close to heaven, covers the high Sabine [hills]. Silently we gazed into the history-laden valley. Zoega remained the entire day with us; and we still saw, ftom the Tarpeian Rock, how the sun shook its last golden arrows into the oak grove of the Palatine. The Coliseum aspired with purple radiance into the air; beneath, the Tiber rolled, atthe foot of the Aventine, through the valley as it opened in the lovely glow of evening. Restorer Albergini.

February 24. We found here various antiquities of the Famese Palace which this resuscitator (Wiederaufhelfer) [p. 324] (as a Parisian "stomach-restorer" or Magenrestaurateur called himself on his sign) is to complete (ergiinzen) for their trip to Naples.

Antinous of the Famese Palace. This torso is in its way the most beautiful that one can see; and even the Capitoline Adonis-Antinous must stand as far behind this in bodily allure and delicacy (morbidezza), as this one stands behind in nobility of expression and ideal beauty of the head.

Colossal Famese. Does not measure up to its reputation, acconjjng to my feeling, and ROMAN DIARY, I 92 I was struck by the lack of freshness and youthful vigor in the whole fignre. It is a faded Autumn Flora. The new head had just been attached to it, and the result will be a laughable composite! For they have given her a stiff Juno's head, with wide-open ox eyes, and a bOllche beante [with gaping mouth). Where the body is too relaxed, the head is too severe! It was an altogether tragicomic sight, in the courtyards and rooms, on the walls and cornices [p. 325] of this house, to see aU these ITagmented gods, muses, fauns, heroes, Caesars, Alexanders, Demosthenes, Ciceros being driven about, hand, leg, head, torso, shank, and often in the most extraordinary groupings, with deadly enemies confidently juxtaposed to one another. Most interesting to me was a colossal bust of Cicero; it belongs to Count Puniatowski (Poniatowski), ITom whom I would gladJy have stolen it! Also visible here were very mediocre copies of the most outstanding antique works. This restorer seems to me a mere joumeyman, and I would rather see Antinous eternally as a torso, than armed and legged by him -- the Flora, as far as I am concerned, he can give a head to. February 25. Church of St. Ignatius; a cruciform basilica. It is one of Rome's biggest churches; looks splendid at the first glance; truly a worthy building. as [p.326] long as one doesn't look more closely; the clumsiness of these pillars, decked out with pilasters and half coJunms. Here is a strange decorative painting by Pozzi; a most deceptive trick of the brush. A round stone of the pavement in the middle of the church is the viewpoint; ITom it, the airy architecture oftbe eqnally airy temple painted on the flat ceiling of the church, ITom which Saint Ignatius is going to Heaven, is really astonishingly bold and deceptive, as though built in the blue air; but scarcely do you take one step away ITom the small magic circle, and everything above you is displaced; the colunrns in the air bend and incline themselves on all sides; symmetry and equiJibrium are suspended; and you fear that you will see the high temple, with the innumerable white, black, yellow and red inhabitants of every part of the world whom the Propaganda has here assembled forthe assumption into Heaven ofSt. Ignatius, will collapse upon you. A real theatrical diversion-in a temple of the Unseen!

[p.327] Vatican. Raphael's Stanze.

February 26.

Again today I particularly single out for us the following matters which, in a cheerful hour, seemed to me as wonderfully good-natured and "folksy," as ajovial Raphael must have painted them. The Donation of Constantine. There, right away, is the living Raphael in the splendid group of women, children, men and beggars on the right! What a muJtitudinous life in this popuJarthrong between the pillars ofthe architecture! Do not forgetto lookatthe fine old man, Pope Sylvester, and the rich red garment of the man on the steps of the throne. The Mass ofBolsena is and remains for me one of the first paintings in the world. The choir boys behind the priest are cherubim in refu]gent white garments, in golden amplitude oflocks, and illuminated by the flattering candJelight. Ardent reverence of the beautifu] woman on the left! [p.328] In the Robbing of the Temple J especially admire today the honest, ingenuous faces of the four secretaries who carry the Pope, which are portraits. In the SchooJ of Athens. First everything! and then especially, again, everything! From right to left: GToup of Archimedes; man who reflectively leans against the pillar. A youth who stands industriously writing; the splendid Bembo; the four fine men's heads that follow Bembo along the colonnade. Occiput (Hinterkopf) of the newly arrived and undecided youth! Aristotle, whom I like ROMAN DIARY, I 93 better than Plato; youth next to Plato, full of sweet enthusiasm. Powerful skull ofPythagoras, and quiet group around him. Parnassus. Tasso, Corinna, Petrarch, Ariosto, Sappho, Dante - what a group! What understanding, intellect, fineness, force and passion in these fuces-and what poses! Especially that of the not beautiful but charming Sappho. The [p.329] group on the other side with Horace is cold by comparison. Parnassus itself is very arid, sunbrowned and uninviting; and Apollo seems to be suffering from the heat -- But Homer is the god ofthe festival! -- On the way from the Loges into the Museum one sees through the openings in the wall a broad view of the semicircle of the hills, ITom deep in Samnium (Abruzzo ultra) to and beyond Castel Gandolfo; there, everything is covered with thick snow, ITom which only high Gennaro is ITee; but the southern hill of the Kingdom of Naples, Somma, is dazzling white; Soracte, on the contrary, and the northern Apennines, are without snow. This is because the snow fell with the Vento greco.

At lunch, Giuntotardi told me of many interesting traits oftbe life, customs, love, marriages and folk songs of the Trasteverines; i.e., especially of the church play Maria-Maggiore Tras- Tevere. Until a short time ago they married only [p.330] amongthernselves; despise the other Romans, whom they do not regard as descended from the old Romans, and look on a connection with them as an affront There is more domestic felicity among them; more passion in love, less jealousy before marriage, more faithfulness afterward. They had simple folk songs, touching through their innocence and tenderness. -- A fashionable young Roman poet took the trouble to provide ambiguous texts for the popular melodies, the offspring of his impure soul, and to distribute the offprints gratuitously the scattered seed grew rapidly and luxuriantly; the Trasteverines are, by far, no longer what they were!

February 27.

I spentthemoming in the ruins of the Campo Vaccino; first beneath the colurnns of the Temple of Faustina; then I scrambled aronnd like a mouse on the Arch ofSepttmius Severns, eventually [p. 331J climbing up to the Capitoline Hill and the entablature ofthe columns of Jupiter Tonans.

At noon, in an instructive discussion with Giuntotardi, this truly noble andenJightened young patriot (using this word in the old, honorable sense in which Klopstock composed his Ode of that name), there was much talk of the new Rome; about the total decadence of the populace; and of how the physical beauty as well as the 'Joviality" of the masses is disappearing amid decaying morality and ever-increasing poverty. This is claimed to have become especially noticeable since the death ofGanganelli. Many assert that the good Ganganelli was not poisonedatMass orITom chocolate, but that he actually died of a putrid fever resuJtingfrom the antidotes he was taking. against the advice of his doctors and in excessive quantities, in his very fear of being poisoned by chocolate. The harmful effect of the decomposing antidotes was intensified by a severe heat wave occurring at that time. [p. 332] Since the BuJl against the Jesuits, he had been certain ofhis own death, and believed that he had signed his own judgment with theirs. If this version of Ganganelli's death were correct, what a miserable end would this fine man have encountered!

February 28. Today was a pilgrimage to the Academy of St. Luke on the Campo Vaccino. Raphael's skuJl is preserved here as a valuable relic. We looked with trembling on this empty moldering vessel (Schoole) which had held one of the completest organizations, this cleanly tuning (rein- stimmende) instrument of a beautifu] souJ. The collection of paintings is one of the most mediocre in Rome. Its major component is an extremely spoiled painting of Raphael: the Evangelist Luke, painting the Madonna, who appears to him; the expression of lovingly enchanted rapture in Luke's face is ROMAN DIARY, I 94

irresistibly touching.

We went on to walk, as far as dampness and wind [p.333] permitted, in the Villa Ludovisi; it appears that the Roman winter, which otherwise ends with January, is coming later this year; for some time we have had few good days. -- We visited Orestes and Electra, Paetus and ATria, and the handsome Theseus. How the truly beautiful, great and noble becomes more attractive at every viewing, and presents itself ever more clearly to the inward feelings! Then we visited also the Antinous newly found at Praeneste. This colossal statue of the youth travestied as a hero is much admired. The hair, adorned with the ivy and grape wreath and lotus bud, is wonderfully handsome and elegant But I frankly admit that for me this statue seemed to lack the strength to go with its size, and that to my eye it has something heavy and awkward about it, however beautiful the execution. In short, I miss in this work the elastic vitality in repose which animates the Castor, the [p. 334] Hercules Faroese, the tragic Muse and the Theseus Ludovisi. Antinous' well-nourished beauty was apparently not so easily translated into the ideal ofthe gods; thus I much prefer the quite human Antinous of the Faroese Palace. February 29.

Today transfiguring breezes blew, and I hastened to enjoy the fine day and chose for this purpose the Villa Magnani on the Palatine. The foundation, the soil and basis of this lonely villa rest on the vaults of the Baths of Julia, Livia and the Faustinas! To the left is the Library of Augustus, whose capacious chambers still bear remnants of masonry [that seem to] float in the air; then the walls and chamber of the Courtroom ofDomitian, which I never look into without thinking with teITor of Tacitus' fiery painting ofthose dreadful times. Straight ahead atthe end ofthe vegetable garden, one sees past the substructures [p. 335] and down into the Circus Maximus. I spent some hours here in quiet contemplation, and former times often became so immediatethatI shuddered! Beginning with Augustus, who had his house here, wbata bloody chain offtight, murder, tyranny, and uameless crime! With what deathly anxiety must these ruthless tyrants often have looked down on the teeming life of Rome, and with what fury must the ruined populace have looked up at them? The tigers on the wolves! the howling wolves to the dark caverns! Then the better times ofHadrian, Trajan, the Antonines, until the time ofhoITors began again, and Rome sank and sank - to a depth that equaled the heights on which it stood. But back to the lap of the present! Lovely was the scent of the blossoming lemon trees, beneath whose darkly shining leafage I sat, penetrated with the enlivening warmth of the mild spring sun. From this charming site, the view falls directly through [p. 336J three powerful brown ruined chambers, whose bold architecture awakens admiration even amid the wreckage. The air space enclosed by these chambers was in each case combined with an interesting perspective as though artistically calculated. In the first stood thePyramid [ofCestius], in the second St Paul's Church, and in the third a perspective view of the Alban heights. What inestimable cabinet treasures of Nature! In the evening our gallant Giuntotardi gave us a domestic concert in his residence, where we found a society representing Rome's bourgeois stratum; the conversation was very pleasant, unforced and goodnatured. His sisters and cousins are cultivated, blooming young women. One sang very nicely, without art but cOITectly and lightly; this full Roman [vocal] organ falls pleasantly on the ear in speech and song. There were also two female amateurs here, one of whom was a real virtuosin and combined art, energy, and spirit in her singing. [p. 337] Giuntotardi himself sings a well modulated tenor, full of charm and feeling. Quartets by Pleyl (Pleyel) were excellently played, and some ht4Ja arias and duets :!Tom Cimarosa's Cosa rara were performed with Italian spirit and mimic talent. ROMAN DIARY, I96

BRUN95-XII,XIII XU. (March 1-16, 1796)

March I, 1796. [p. 338] Zoega took me today to the Ruspoli Palace. A SkiITokko [Yic] was blowing such as I have never before experienced Hovering over all the hills of Rome is a semi-transparent, semi-solid atmosphere like half-run sour milk. The burning sun assaults it without being able to dispel the stubborn mass. We entered the cool, dark palace like a shaded wood, and breathed more freely in these otherwise dank chambers. Here are seen: I.) The group of the Graces. Every foreigner visits it, as the only such group of some significance in Rome. I would not like to have it! They stand there cold and shallow, and the pose of the middle one actually seems to me very ungraceful, since by stretching out the aITllS, the back appears flat and bent inward, and the gentle charm of the descending wavy line of the neck and shoulders is lost The heads are stuck on, and [p.339] apparently do not even belong to the group.

2.) A handsome bas-relief: Hercules' son Telephus is on the point of unknowingly man-ying his mother Auge, when the warning snake and threatening sword appear to him.

3.) Group ofSilenus with the little Bacchus on his arms, in duplicate; would that one of them were mine, for I am infinitely fond of this representation! It is such a hearty togetherness! The truehearted old fellow, and the smiling child who is wriggling with pleasure in his arms; there is such a purely human sympathy in the downward look of the old one, and the upward look of the little one. These marble statues bore indications that they were once painted red. Imagine my astonishment when Zoega told me that such painting was also customary in good periods of art, even under Romans and Greeks! To me it seems really dreadful! 4.) Fine busts of Nero, Hadrian, Antoninus Pius, the younger Faustiua, and the wise grandmother ofSeptimius Severus.

[p.340] The Spada Palace. I.) Statue ofPompejus (Pompey). It has been definitely proved that this is the statue :!Tom the Curia of Pompey, at whose feet Caesar was assassiuated! Now, feel with me the long shudders that shook me :!Tom top to toe as I stood before the image of the great and noble man to whose Manes was brought the most sublime of all sacrificial deaths! The face is full of soul and fiery anger; the body strenuously worked, but sharply and strongly articulated. The marble shows stains of age and dampness (for the statue was found under the earth, on the site and in the ruins of Pompey's Curia); on the underside of the body these are reddish - with trembling I imagined I was looking at Julius Caesar's blood!

The discovery of this statue gave rise to a ridiculous lawsuit For its body lay on the property of one litigant, and [p. 341] its head on that of another. The judge decided like Solomon; but here no mother's heart and no love of antiquity were in play, but only pure envy. Poor Pompey was once again beheaded! A Cardiual bought both the head and trunk, and let body and soul be reunited. ROMAN DIARY, I 97 2.) Bas-relief Apollo brings the lyre to Hippolytus, to inspirit him in honor of his sister Diana.

3.) Paris as a shepherd, with splendid bulls.

4.) Ulysses and Diomedes, in the act of stealing the Palladium. How characteristic is the fierce violence of Diomedes, and how naJvely is the quiet watchfulness of Ulysses depicted! There was in the Spada Gallery nothing at all for my nose, if I may use the expression (which says all too well what I want to express). The Dido ofGuercino has much truth in its own kind -- but I cannot look at the swaggering, two-eJls-long sword on which she is impaled, while continuing to harangue [p. 342] ~ its enormous length honors the house and heraldic crest of Spada -- without breaking out like Homer's gods in inextinguishable laughter.

Darmstadt Historieal aDd Landscape Painter Schmidt.

My mends Hirt and Zoega accompanied me to see this noble and modest German artist, whom I left with admiration. I was first shown his just completed Lake ofNemi. It is a miITor of the heavens such as I never before saw in a painting; the foreground fully detailed and true; the great pine and plane tree splendidly executed; both the foreground and the closing in of the far-off woodland rendered in beautiful perspective. But the depression of the deep volcanic lake is especially worthy of admiration, and presented with magical art. The Dying Cleopatra. I was not shown this painting, but my friends had set it up in such a way that my glance [p. 343] must naturaJly fall upon it when I turned, as they wished to surprise me in the most agreeable way and to observe the naJve response of a child of nature. They knew me aright This noble painting struck me as no other work of the modem school has done, and I stood there stock still and moved to tears!

Cleopatra sits, rather close at hand in the foreground, on an antique bench, her feet resting on a stool; the room opens upon a vestibule upheld by Ionic columns. Cleopatra is quietly fighting the death struggle, the pallor of which is visibly overspreading her splendidly beautiful countenance. But this eye, breaking out in tears and raised to heaven, and this languishinglyopen mouth, are actually looking and breathing the distress of love, which stiJl struggles with death for her awareness. It was this tender spiritual truth that delighted me above everything else. An elevated simplicity overspreads this painting, conceived in the grand marmer and carried out with taste and finesse. Cleopatra's figure is, [p. 344] contrary to the traditional opinion, rather bold and noble than soft and charming. Lovely are the pose and garment of the woman who stands in wordless grief behind her chair. Before her kneels a young and charming maiden. Amor (Cupid) steals quietly away, with trailing wings, by the statue of Venus, as much as to say, "This is more serious than I thought!" A delicious little rogue, this small traitor, to whose defense Lotte [the writer's daughter] immediately sprang, unsolicited. She noticed the almost invisible wound :!Tom the asp's sting on Cleopatra's breast, and saw him sneaking offwith trailing bow. "Mother! he is anxious! But you can believe, he didn't mean it badly; he only wanted to play, not to shoot the poor wnman dead! Certainly not; for he is so beautiful!" This naIve penetration into the artist's true intentions gave the latter great joy; he tenderly embraced the little one, and expressed the wish that his painting might ever be regarded with such childlike looks. ROMAN DIARY, I 98

[p. 345] March 2 and 3. On these two days I was imprisoned in my room by the most frightful weather imaginable. I would never have believed that anything comparable was possible in Italy. Rain, storm, thunder and lightning, hail, Skirokko and Libeccio, wreaking havoc all together; but our dear Roman house-birds flew now and then, and with the aid of the readings, which, in Rome, are doubly attractive and lively, the hours flew rapidly.

March 4. Cavaceppi. In Germany a famous uarue. How often, piously credulous, have I looked at his copies from the antique in art collections and gardens! Here, this restorer and copyist is quite favorably known for claiming, in his copies ofthe most finished antique works, Niobe, Juno Ludovisi, the , etc., to have [personally] bestowed the finishing touches (die letzte Hand anzulegen) and somewhat modernized the antiquated ideas of a Polyclitus or [p. 346] Agesander; the clear proofs of which we could lay hand on in his marble boutique (where, moreover, was exhibited a brilliant inventory of gods and goddesses, heroes, bacchantes, nymphs and fauns). Here, every kind of taste has been provided for; and one understands how Cavaceppi became a rich man.

Among hundreds of statues and busts, I mention these few: I.) Excellent casts of the two colossal busts. 2.) An accurate copy of the most powerful one, which certainly escaped Cavaceppi's glances; for the main de maitre (master hand) is here totally lacking. 3.) A little antique Hercules with the snakes. Smilingly he throttles the monsters, as though for fun.

4.) Copy of the Pallas Albani. We took refuge from the continuing bad weather in St. Peter's, which is already very lively because of the pilgrimages of the country people :!Tom the Campagna. We observed these scattered [p. 347] groups, which took such childish pleasure in the silver lamps, the golden church fathers and marble saints, and wondered at the colorful radiance of the pillars and columns. The greater part of this poor agrarian population was yellow, emaciated, half-naked __ in short, pictures of misery! Among them we saw two perfectly beautiful boys, one of whom possessed the genial strength of a Raphaelite, the other the blooming grace of a COITeggian figure. Then we looked at the mosaic paintings of the church, among which I mention four. 1.) Guido's Archangel Michael, who is no doubt a powerful messenger of Omnipotence but is also a divinely beautiful youth (especially the head).

2.) St. Jerome's Last Communion, by Domenichino. On this splendid painting one is very conscious of the sparkling reflections of the mosaic.

3.) Raphael's Transfiguration. The copy is excellent, and hangs here infinitely better than the original. If one [ stands] at the end of the side aisle commanded by this altar, and to the left of [p. 348] the entrance, and presses closely against the wall, the painting appears to greatest advantage and becomes a real apparition. ROMAN DIARY, I99 4.) A piquant painting by Guercino, the content of which I have forgotten; but that makes no difference with this artist, whose talent never lost itself even in the esthetic domain. We have now had thunderstoITllS on three afternoons at sunset, bringing frightfully beautiful illuminations. The dark blue thunderclouds stood, in the West, above the sinking sun. Below them, a broad belt of saffion and purple drew itself about the horizon; as it began to grow dark, the lightning played splendidly among the blackish clouds, and :!Tom time to time illuminated St. Peter's dome, which lay beneath the storm. Slowly the thunder rolled through the long Tiber valley.

March 5. Joy of reunion! The dear friends returned from their excursion to Naples. [p.349] The birds of passage did not even twice see the Hesperian skies unclouded, and Luise assured us that it is only at Naples that one learns what rain and storm are. The frightful weather overtook them on the trip to Paestum, where last year Prince Augustus of England found snow. All ofthis leads me to remain quietly in Roma santa.

In the Carthusians' church we looked at the origiual of Guido's ArchangeL The head is full of grace and ever-blooming youth. But it is no messenger of power who storms onto the scene, no destroyer of evil like those powerful figures in the Temple Robbery; the lovely head does not suit the shoulders, and it's as ifhe wanted just to exploit the devil a little merely for fun. Paul, Cured of his Blindness by Ananias, by Pietro da Cortona. A fine painting full of character and truth, the individual heads and figures full oflife, and harmony in the [p. 350] colors. The expression of unfamiliar blindness, and of cautious groping on Paul's part is extremely naive. The splendid old Ananias is full of belief, oflove. The unbelieving blackhead (c"ichwartzkopj) over the Saul is most eloquent

Original of the Extreme Unction of Jerome, by Domenichino. This painting has greatly darkened. According to my feeling, Domenichino never has nobility in his heads, but [does have] greatness and strength in the outlines, of which the old man who is giving Jerome the Host is a fine example. But the dying man himself is truly no saint, but only such a lowly, debilitated sinner's figure as only some military hospital can provide. Decoration, drapery and illumination in this celebrated painting are very effective

March 6. Today at the Lateran we heard a [p. 351] Capuchin sermon for the in . The good monk overworked himself to such an extent that he himself, in spite of a poor soul in Purgatory, perspired, and had constantly to inteITUpt the thunder of his eloquence, and the imploring prayers for the salvation of the poor souls, in order to wipe away the running drops. There was good music with choirs, accompanied by the fine Lateran organ. Tradition tells us concerning the four beautiful antique Corinthian colunms, which now stand in :!Tont of the St. John altar, that Titus had them poured from the triumphal booty of the Temple of Jerusalem, and dedicated them as a tithe to Jupiter Capitolinus. Then we wandered around a while longer on the steps of the Lateran.

March 9. Finally spring air again, which we, like long denied spirits, greedily inhaled at the Villa Pamphili (Pamfili). How gently blew the breezes beneath the oaks, and dancing, [p. 352] almost ROMAN DIARY, I 100 like Hesperian spirits made visible, intoxicated with joy, :!Tom the treetops down into the most flowery meadow, whose loveliness the Vale ofEnna cannot exceed! Do you remember the great meadow of the Villa Pamphili, this cheerfully opened scene :!Tom ? You emerge from deep shadows of evergreen oaks, as :!Tom the grove of the past into the mild light of a cheerful present! The carpet of anemones still blooms, and unseen violets modestly exhale their fragrance, beneath the brilliance of their odorless but color-flaunting sisters. Today was like the betrothal day of Zephyr and Flora. Never have I experienced such sweet airs, never such enlivening breezes! This extended quadrangle ofthe meadow is SUITOunded on three sides by oak groves; but before you, it sinks in charming, softly greening slopes, over which the majestic, newly matured pinewood bears its bright green umbrellas into the blue aether. Between the slender trunks, one gazes into [p.353] far-spreading cheerful distances; to the left, up to Albano; to the right, over the still sinking plain down toward Ostia.

Actually, Zoega wanted to show me today the handsome sculptures on the sarcophaguses in the Casino. But, "Spring is fleeting! the flower fades!" The sarcophagus is always sure! – So we remained among the flowers. -- Ah! So to die amidst the flowers! Happy Proserpina, hadst thou wandered to Elysium from Enna's blooming vale!

We found an unusually colored Iris Persica in great numbers, which we had never seen before. The whole flower has a pale yellowish green; the three pistil leaves [carpels?] are like black velvet, which is covered with an ashen-hued dust that gleams dully in the sun. We dedicated this flower of mourning, amidst the jubilant spring colors of Proserpina, to the evergrieving bride of Orcus. In the garden we found the following antiques: 1.) A happily conceived and well executed bacchaual on a sarcophagus; [p.354] children, fauns and bacchantes, a joyful tumult with lyre and pipes, and sweet wine in fancy containers. The poses and costumes are free and attractive, and even the faces are full of expression. 2.) Ulysses creeps away under the ram's belly.

3.) Ulysses gives Polyphemus to drink. Both statues were already mentioned by Winckelmann, if) am not mistaken. We couldn't tear ourselves away :!Tom this magic garden. Ah! this florescence of past and present, interwoven in one Hesperian wreath, blooms and exhales its :!Tagrance only in Rome! We saw the sun setting in my newly discovered Villa Upri, which lies to the right between Villa Giuglia (Giulia) and Aqua Gettosa; splendidly rose the Apennines in the distant, rosy glow of evening.

In the evening the very intelligent and sensitive Count M*****r came for some hours to show me his [p. 355] collection of antique gems and intaglios, which had been assembled with as much knowledge and taste as with unusual good fortune. The following pieces stood out by reason of their careful adherence to the allegories: 1.) The spirit of Mercury, with the attribute of the , appears on the sea in a shell boat drawn by dolphins; the dolphins are a symbol of peace after StOITnS at sea, which is presaged by their appearance; so that they are a suitable accompaniment for the shadow-leader (Schattenfilhrer) [Mercury].

2.) Minerva and Fortuna appear together. Wisdom and Good Luck (but neither one without the other) rule life. ROMAN DIARY, I 101 3.) Nemesis raises the garment in order to appraise the bosom, and holds the of moderation in his left hand.

4.) Nemesis stands fast on the rolling wheel of fate.

5.) The Sphinx holds the wheel in the middle of which the unfortunate Psyche is being spun around; the serpent of eternity encircles this enigmatic fate. This allegory [p. 356] shook my soul with a melancholy feeling! For truly, only eteruity can solve the storm-driven, blooddripping riddle of our times, and unveil the turbid fate of suffering humanity! 6.) The Genius of Passion, holding Psyche with both hands, rushes head over heels away with her.

7.) The winged Nemesis looks quietly into her bosom. 8.) A dove carnes Psyche in her bill. March 10. On this day, during the midday hours and in fine weather, we made an excursion to the tomb of the Nasos; the route goes by way of Ponte Molle along the right bank of the Tiber, so that one has the stream on the right and, on the left, the embankment oftufaceous limestone which the stream has broken and converted into its bed.

[p. 357] Beyond the river, far-reaching green fields agreeably fill the eye, until these high Apennine mountain peaks raise themselves, the nearer cliff-rows being violet-misted, the farther broad ridges and the high mountain-land blindingly snow-covered In the near distance, the charming seed hills {c<;aathilgel}, Colli dei Venti, swell before one's gaze; behind, the Sacred Mountain rises above the Teverone; between the two, to complete the picture, the Salarian Bridge (Ponte Salaria). Farther off, the hills rise splendidly from the neighborhood ofTemi; between two near heights, the great military road thrusts itself; on the hill to the right once stood the old Fidena, where another old, if not actually antique, tower rises picturesquely.

The mausoleum of the Nasos is hewn out of the volcanic tufa hill. Still recognizable are three niches on each side, and the seventh deep down, for the sarcophaguses or urns; the :!Tesco paintings on marble are copies. People believe that 's grave was found [p. 358J here; but did not the great poet die in exile for the unfortuuate Julia? March 12. Today I visited, with my mends Pfaff and Domeier, Rome's Botanical Garden. Its situation is charming and very promising; from its position on the high Montorio, it overhangs the fluid crystal of the Aqua Paoli. But its interior is the most bloody satire on the flowers of science in Rome, the zeal of the teachers, and the thirst for knowledge of the learners. There has been no thought at all of classifications, distribution oflight and shade, of sun and cooling, dampness and dryness! In an area overgrown with Euphorbia Esula, Colts-foot (Huflattig), Taraxakon, thistles and Furnaria, there stood, like rare weeds, six or eight types of plants which had survived the winter and spread themselves on their own. The plants that had been placed in pots were no better provided for, [p.359] and every ordiuary gardener in GeITnany brings just as many plants through the winter, to please the lady of the house, as do the local botanical gardeners here. It became clear to me here, what I have long been told, that no young Roman dedicated to the physiciaI15' art visits the universities of Lombardy, and that the Spallanzani, the ROMAN DIARY, I 103 beyond the Alps still don't rightly believe is thus proved to be possible, and samples of the rained-down stones are everywhere [p. 363] in the hands of the Florentine, Roman and Neapolitan mineralogists.

March 14. Today I conducted my mends along the lovely way from Aqua Gettosa to Ponte Molle, which last time I had followed alone; on that occasion I ended at the point where we began today. After a morning of chest cramps and side pains, I had left my room sick and weak; but the air again gave me life, and we were all very cheerful at our open-air lunch (Friihstiick) on the Tiber bank The views, when one takes this way in the opposite direction, are as different as morning and evening, but sweetly consonant like them. Then our [female] mend led us :!Tom Ponte Molle to a villa (belonging, if) am not mistaken, to the absent Count Poniatowski), which lies directly behind Constantine's battlefield, at the foot of Monte Mario. One's gaze slips straight across, and [p. 364J follows the Tiber into Rome, until Sf. Peter's dome closes the splendid view. What could not this villa be [made]? But they seldom think here of resting places and shadowy retreats, and we already missed the coolness.

From the balcony of the tastefully designed house, one has an unobstructed, majestic view in all four directions, and is thus in the midst of all magnificence; but also in the midst of all exhalations of the damp Tiber banks; and during many months of the year this is a dangerous stopping place. We returned through the Porta Angelica, remained together, and saw the sun setting from the Tarpeian Rock.

March 15. You can imagine that I have nothing more important on hand than guiding our mends to all of the favorite places discovered during their absence. Today I gave the dear ones a lunch (Mittagessen) in the Villa Lepri (which is now called my villa). [p. 365] The kindness with which the owners of this charming villa accede to the mendly request to allow the foreigners to use it, is certainly a very nice trait in the national character; for this complaisance prevails everywhere.

To my great joy, this interesting lookout spot was quite new to them; the weather favored us, and we passed very cheerful hours, until the sun sank for us into the cypresses of the Villa Millini, and we followed its last streaming rays and farewell kiss to the mountains, hills, towns, villas, pines, laurel-, oak- and cypress groves of the Roman hills - until the last tones of this color- harmonica faded away, and gray dusk inundated the wide prospect.

Courtyard of the Belvedere. March 16. Oh Sun God in the Belvedere - But Mnemosyne's grieving tones [p. 366] Fill your temple's dull emptiness, And Echo sighs: He is departed!

Back alone -- back :!Tom a blood-dripping present into the shadows of the sacred past! -

oh, silent, holy Rome! in all your noble shadows! -- How will the chosen of the Muses, the ROMAN DIARY, I 104 nurseling of Art, find his home in the lap of the madly raging Lutetia [Paris]? Surrounded by the apings of the past, and the caricatures of greatness -- under cardboard freedom-pictures, and ruined mausoleums -- close to the Pantheon, which collapses in grief, because its worthy occupants have been murdered,'s and damnable barbarians deified in their stead -- the smiling Hora will never show him the child of enthusiasm in lovely completeness; and cold representations of a heartless fantasy will remain the highest triumph of the Gallic schooL We limited ourselves today to this [p. 367] gallery surrounding the small open courtyard; if one can otherwise still refer to the supreme fullness of beauty as limitation.

In Zoega's company the bas-reliefs always attract me doubly. The solicitous mend gives certainty and life to the adumbrations of my fancy; and his gentle goodness teaches him the difficult art of making himself understandable to the uninitiated 1.) The Bacchanale, immediately to the right ofthe entrance, 011 the great white marble sarcophagus, is of great beauty and consummate chisel work; the five faun- and nymph-couples entwine themselves around the sarcophagus in lifelike movement and expression of the different temperaments. The fairest of the nymphs, whose charmingly twisted body resembles that of the Partbenopean Venus, lacked her head; a magnificent woman, in that height of joy which borders immediately on pain, represents this temperament in the noblest manner.

[p. 368] 2.) Cenerario or ash-casket. Two Victories open its door; a lofty thought!

3.) Large sarcophagus, whose decoration was explained by Winckelmann as the story of the murder of Agamemnon, but which Zoega [explains] as follows: Orestes and Pylades are in the act of killing Aegisthus; Clytemnestra already lies dead on the ground. The Furies are slowly creeping in with an oversize garment to conceal the atrocity of the matricide; this is the main action in the center. On the right appears Orestes, who has fled from the avenging goddesses to Delphi, and embraces the holy tripod; but here too the stern, dreadful Furies have folJowed him. In supplication he holds high the olive branch; the strings of the lyre vibrate! Pacified by harmony and wisdom, the avengers go to sleep at the feet of the altar. Orestes, departing, steps gently over them. This gentle and cautious overstepping, and the naive poses of the [p. 369] slumbering Furies, whom, however (ah! like every twinge of memory), the slightest movement would awaken, are represented in the completest manner.

4.) Celebrated Antinous of the Belvedere. This wondrously beautiful statue is called by the antiquarians now Antinous, now Meleager, and by Zoega [is called] Mercury, and, in fact, "Hermejas,29 the guide of the shades"; for he is no longer quite a youth, and all the thonghful seriousness of the companion of the shades is spread over his brow. What a head, what a neck, what hair, and what ears! They are Attic ears; gently hearing, they convey the word to the inner mind. He stands there, quietly absorbed in himself and, as it were, lost in the fullness of his beautiful being; form and symbol of a purely preserved youth which is ripening to strength and manly worth. 5.) The Rape of the Daughters ofLeucippus; [p.370] a fine bas-relief; but the one with

28Bai11y, la Rochefoucauld, Lavoisier, Malesherbes, Charlotte Corday!

29"Hermeias" is the Epic Greek fonn of "Hennes," the Greek equivalent of the Roman Mercury. (Translator's note.) ROMAN DIARY, I 105 the same content on the wall of the Casino Giustiniani is even finer. 6.) Death of Niobe's Children. A famous sarcophagus. Many of the poses seem to me exaggeratedly elegant and slender; I believe the English have studied this sarcophagus exclusively. But the figures depicted in the meze are inexpressibly beautiful. Struck by the gentler aITOW of Artemis, the adorable children of Niobe lie there like sunken lilies! 7.) Enigmatic Bas-Relief A spirit shows the mask lying at his feet to one who is resting beneath a laurel and palm tree; the same idea is repeated on both sides, though in work of poor quality.

Afterward we visited the tragic Muse, as exclusive (ausschlies.I'end) as though she stood quite alone - she to whom both of us would build a temple of her own, and place her beneath the streaming illumination of a rotunda; for we both adore the gently serious goddess who [p. 371] embodies all the strength and fullness of female dignity.

At the edge of the fountain's basin in the courtyard is a point :!Tom which one can take in Laocoon, Mercury and Apollo in a single glance -- you hear the death-sigh of Laocoon, but are comforted by the profound repose of the Shadows' Guide [Mercury], whi]e Apollo's eternal

cheerfulness bears you upward on unfading beams oflight! ROMAN DIARY, I 107 the present! Here above the cataract of Tibur, you were blest by a feeling heart. Horace, too, was a pupil of Socrates, and Baldus was, at least, the Horace of his time. And our Herder? Who unites like him, in the fairest children of his intellect, Plato's high inebriation with the clear milk of Socratic life-wisdom?

At ten the cheerful little caravan, on muleback and on foot, was on the way to the Cascatellen (Cataracts). The air was splendidly pure and mild.; as one rides round the valley on the rocky slopes, one looks downward into brown-vaulted tuffstone grottoes and the rocky residues of torn and deformed abysses, newly encrusted by the water of the Annio. The way leads upward, and the Cascata and the pouring [p. 376] stream of the Neptune's Grotto flash like silver-glances and disappear in green night. Today I was the guide, and showed my people everything again, with renewed enjoyment. The distant view was somewhat obscured, and we lingered on the hill of Villa Varus. Particularly fine :!Tom here is the view of the Monticelli, which bear on their three summits the pilgrim church of 81. Angelo in the Cappoggio, the Franciscan Cloister, and the little town of Monti celli, which gleams white in the distance but :!Tom close at hand is said to be very poverty-stricken. Yet the view into the hills :!Tom these heights must be enchanting, and if my health were better, none of these heights would remain unvisited by me. Great and bold especially are the outlines of the rough Tiburtine cliff-mountain known as the Schiava d'Ori.

From here we descended into the depths of the Cascatellen, where we took refuge in a little tuffstone hollow of the bank :!Tom a fine rain which, with today's wind and inert air, filled the whole cavity.

[p. 377] A well-chosen, romantic spot! Adianthum and ivy hung lightly over the rounded exterior, and we had a full view of the intertwining, leaping, surging, undulating, aspersing, clamoring and whispering waterfalls, brooks, aud threads of silver!

These Cascatellen are truly unique! There is nothing mghteningiy exalted about them; only fullness and mischievousness, and lively, ever youthful vitality hold sway through this magical rocky cleft. Everything in the whole scene was new to me; the brown, various]y split up and washed out hollows in the banks, in which and on which the flood of the Annio continuously foITllS new figures; destroyer and creator at the same time! The wildly rearing but luxuriantJy green-clad, jagged rocks, the clouds of mist which gently sprinkle them, the summer warmth in the deep cleft and amid the rushing sound of the falls!

They count four separate major Cascatellen. The highest, as seen :!Tom here, seems to leap from the blue air, and the sun's [p.378] brightness is redoubled in the far-driven spray. The second boils pleasantJy down from a green height, some one hundred feet, with a full, broad, half deliquescent gush, into a depth which is hidden by the jagged but thickly overgrown cliff edge; but behind this the cloud-like effervescence boils magically and mysteriously upward Sidewise from right to left, thirdly, the just descended water ]oudly falls between shattered rock fragments; and on the left, fourthly, between two torn-off mountain walls, comes the Annio in a deep cleft into which it flows down and forward :!Tom its higher bed These very different falls of the mountain stream, which has subdivided itself above the cliffs, confuse the spectator, who [mistakenly] believes he sees two streams that meet in the depths.

The newer earth formations here below in the CascateUen-cleft are also most unusual ROMAN DIARY, I 108 and uniquely picturesque. Where the windblown [p. 379] water rains down, now here and now there, the earthen bank little by little becomes encrusted with regular little leary deposits like alabaster; the upper layers are still quite soft and yielding, but toward the interior become more and more hardened. But everything is vaulted in concentric half-bows. Violets surrounded us with their perfume, and the beautiful Cyclamen Europeum stands in the dew-sparkling grass. The almond tree already bears its tender leafage in the soothing atmosphere; everywhere little brooks tinkle and whisper downward, tender silver locks of the nymphs, charmingly dividing themselves among stones, bushes and shining moss-banks. We remained here a long time, bathing in water spray and sunshine.

Maecenas' Villa. It stands on the southeastern heights of Tivoli, above the Cascatellinen, as they call these brooklets that trickle down from the rugged limestone cliffs between luxuriant stands of wild shrubbery. We followed once again [p.380] the pretty pathway, close by the reedy banks of the brook, where everything is now fragrant and green, over the bridge of the beautiful nameless source brook, past the Grotta del Mondo, and up to the steep height where the furseeing eagle's nest is situated; a real Roman thought! This whole cJiffhas been underbuilt (suhstruirt), and we noticed beside the pathway many remaining fragments of reticulated waIl masonry.

Within the precincts of the villa itself, it is rather uncanny! Everything is coolly shadowed, high-vaulted, and the waters, like invisible, nearby ghostly voices, surge, roar and rush beneath and through the structure of the high castle! Wherever you turn, fresh gurgling breathes about you, and you look everywhere into deep hollows in the masonry where the waterfalls pour out through hidden, often broken water ducts. The water is very clear and transparent, but topaz-yellow, and always associated with that brown, picturesque tuff

From the immense and widely visible arcades of the northwestern gallery, the view passes [p. 381] all description. I felt the spirit within me boldly raise its wings, as I proudly viewed :!Tom the rough cliff the winding course of the Annio and the gentle source brook (Quellhach), with the three Monticelli modestly displayed before me, and the Campagna toward Ostia revealing itself in perspective! From the height of the ruins on the south side, the view is more picturesque, and has more episodic features. There, in green-clad vineyards and orchards, the charming Rotunda, called Tempio delia Tosse, lies close at hand. Farther off, on the declining slope of the mountainside, arise :!Tom cypress and olive groves the enigmatical ruins of the Villa Hadriani; :!Tom the lowland emerges the tomb ofPlautius; far off, Rome, the eternal goal of every thought of earthly greatness, lies powerfully extended; the Peter's dome and the Janiculus meaningfully overtop the mist-clouds.

And they mean to convert this noble ruin, whose imperishable walls still dery the centuries, into an arms factory (Gewehljahrike)! [p.3821 Already everything was patched and painted up, and the powerful arcades filled out in readiness for little windows; and where

Maecenas assembled his friends - where Horace, Virgil, Catullus, Ovid and Sallust on fine evenings read aloud their immortal works, all the din and filth of such a very different installation will now prevail. The afternoon brought steady rain; late in the evening, lovely moonbeams fell :!Tom dispersing clouds upon the Cascata. ROMAN DIARY, I 109 March 19. In the morning we rode around in the valley and the hiUy country and drew up our plan for the following days. TomoITow we shall make a pilgrimage to the Franciscan monastery that lies there high on the mountain. On Monday we shall travel through that narrow pass, and through all those romantic valleys, where splendid German oaks stand green among chestnut trees, to Subiaco, where rise Italy's highest mountains, (p.383] and where the honest and industrious countryman stiU upholds the old repute of Sabine customs. AU these Tiburtine hilIs form no great and noble masses, and do not cast those shadows of greater form. They are of moderate height, bald and dry; but seen :!Tom afar, the flattering vapor of the Italian air envelops them with softer tints. The olive tree reigns here, and all these harsh hilIy regions are decked out in yellowish green. Only as far as the living flood of the Annio exerts its formative influence is everything enlivened, made green and clothed. I had long wished myself from the villa of Varus over the gorge to the patch of green meadow which seems magically placed on the rock wall between the two major falls of the Cascatellen. I asked my guide how one gets there? He said, "The painters often go there, but a lady has never been there!" Finally, he promised to lead us. So here at last we were for once inside the Annio, and [p. 384] descending, behind the town walls, a very steep path bestrewn with rolling stones and fluttering creepers.

In half an hour, I stood on the longed-for spot; high above me, the first Cascatella leaped downward in spray; the impetuous cliff brook flowed past me through the high, dew-sparkling meadow, foaming and half hidden in vapor, to leap :!Tom before my feet into the depths as a second Cascata. So here I was right in the middle! How this willful nymph divides herself and roguishly pours herself now here, now there! The spraying and bubbling of the descending, splashing flood, which falls in many smaller rills from the green hilltop, by my estimate a good 120 feet - and then, reassembling itself in :!Tont of us, as the many threads of water recombine into the main stream, and falling below us into a cliff-sUITounded depth - brings with it no loud tumult, but only a clear melodic rustling sound! I ventured to the edge of the second descent; instead of the expected clifflike abyss, (p. 385] one looks into a lightly veiled network of foliage, and sees the plunging water as though gently borne upward by the luxuriantly proliferating shrubbery. The clouds of spray :!Tom the fallen and the falling brooks roll downward and upward to combine around this spot, forming a cave or grotto framed in watery elements; and ouly when a :!Tesh breeze blows the watery veil to one side does one see, as in flight, the deep declivities and the narrowly twisting course of the cliff-bound Annio.

Even as we were riding back, the rain poured out again in streams; the whole sky was clouded over, all of our further travel plans were turned to water, and we hastened back to Rome. ROMAN DIARY, I 110 BRUN95-XIV XIV.

SETTIMANA SANTA (HOLY WEEK). (March 20-24,1796). March 20, 1796. [p.386] Through the fault of my hired coachman, I came to St. Peter's too late to see the distribution of palms in the Sistine Chapel; we [were just in time to meet] the returning palm bearers. Unfortuuately, too, the air in the dark chapel was too cloudy for us to enjoy Michael Angelo's deathless palms.

March2L [The Barberini Palace]

Today we visited the Barberini Palace; I was weak and sick, so I mention to youjust superficially what I saw but wasn't able to feel today. L) The most powerful lion of antiquity seems to confront you on the steps leading from the Alto Relievo.

2.) A beautiful serious Muse. 3.) Junius Brutus, with his sons. [p.387] In the Lower Room. 1.) The celebrated [Card] Players by MA da Caravaggio. It is a physiognomical masterpiece, permeated by an ultramontane spirit of caricature. One can never tire of looking at the poor duped wretch., and the Birhoni [rascals] are perhaps unique in their kind. 2.) A handsome portrait of the charming Raphael.

3.) Three old men with a child; one of the finest portrait pieces of Tiziano (Titian).

4.) A pleasing Holy Family, worthy of Raphael; by his deserving pupil Francesco da Immola.

5.) A heavenly Christ with the Crown of Thoms, by Allegri da COITeggio. This painting is all feeling!

Statues.

1.) Celebrated colossal bust of Hadrian.

2.) A room in which different [p. 388] lovely antique children seem to live and move; so the marble breathes!

3.) Barberini Muse, noble, tall, mild! It is Herder's Terpsichore! ROMAN DIARY, I 111 4.) Inexpressibly charming statue of a young girl, opposite the Muse. Perhaps the most attractive non-ideal from Antiquity. 5.) Another lovely unknown maiden's figure. Who were the sweet playmates whose intimate humanity speaks to me in such friendly tones? Perhaps children transplanted from the Ionian heaven? 6.) The famous Barberini Sleeping Faun. He is sleeping as soundly as possible; beyond that, I really cannot say much about him - as far as I am concerned, he may sleep to the end of the world! I do not understand how a great artist would want to spend so much time in representing for us a quite commonplace sleeping peasant! [p.389] 7.) Antique :!Tesco painting, representing a Roma; found in the Gardens of Sallust. To me this well-preserved painting seemed to be more or less in the style of Carlo Maratti.

8.) Venus Coming :!Tom the Bath. Similarly. It has been much retouched. The self assurance (plenipotenz) of Venus reminded me of a sturdy lady of Paolo Veronese. Friend Zoega had reserved the best for me to the last, knowing well of my partiality for Lionardo's pictures:

9.) Vanity and Virtue; one of the most celebrated among Lionardo da Vinci's rare paintings. This picture of virtue is a divine ideal, wholly conceived in the highest and purest spirit. A "Vestale Maxima, n a thousand times purer and nobler in her quiet and unassuming dignity than the statue of the Capitoline. The painting has darkened extraordinarily. But the longer one looks at it, the more brightly and harmoniously do the figures emerge. Of the rarest [p. 390] beauty are the hand and arm of the masterfully draped Virtue; Vanity is not sufficiently fresh, youthful and charming; Lionardo ought, with more boldness, to have confronted this Virtue with a more seductive lady of the world. In general, one sees clearly in Lionardo's paintings that his soul was only rich in ideals of beauty of the highest kind; the contrasting figures he had always to fetch from the commonplace world So with the rascally Jews with Christ, in the Aldovrandini Gallery, who should no doubt represent fine tricky sophists and passionate villains, but not common junk-Jews (Triideljuden).

March 22. Today mend Hetsch took us [to see] Mr. Denis, a Flemish landscape painter. Particularly striking to me were: 1.) The large splendid landscape, the sunset over the hills of Vietti and La Cava, as seen from the harbor of Salerno. [p. 391] The mind is iITesistibly drawn into these noble twilight distances. 2.) In the painting of Neptune's Grotto in Tivoli - the coldness and dampness of which prevented me :!Tom visiting the original - I admired the spray of the waterfall, iITadiated by the sun, which carries illusionism to the utmost degree; the seizure of such momentary appearances is the greatest and certainly rare service of this interesting artist His foreground is extremely nice (iiusserst nett).

We also visited today the lonely and pleasant Villa Apollinari, and enjoyed in the magical Villa Borghese the delightful contrasts between the dark and blackish green of the ROMAN DIARY, I 112 laurels and oaks and the tender, springlike colors of the weeping willows, the young greensward, the elms and plane trees.

[p. 392] Miserere of the Sistine Chapel. March 23. This is the first pleasure of New Rome which satisfies the mind and heart! 0 Harmony, heaven-soaring daughter of devotion, how you elevate my heart! These streams of euphony, these choirs of comforting spirits, which, invisibly resounding as though borne on swans' wings, melodically murmur about me, raising me to a height ITom which, with closed eyes, as now the heavenly tones slowly ebbed away, I sank down with a painful feeling, and, suddenly awaking Tom the heavenly dream and undivided rapture, found my face bedewed with tears. And then, oh, harp cutting contrast! my first glance fell upon the Roman ladies sitting around me, indifferently, as with a comic aria, devouring oranges and other bonbons which were available at the entrance to the church.

[p.393] Green (Holy) Thursday. March 24. Great Benediction :!Tom the Loge above the colonnade of St. Peter's. The imposing greatness of this [St Peter's] square is only fully felt when, as today, the floods of humanity, the countless crowd of glittering carriages, and whole regiments of the Papal Guard on horseback move about freely and unconstrained1y within its noble perimeter; and, through the splendid, gradually rising amphitheater, present the components of this huge moving picture to the easily encompassing eye. The appearance of the Pope, who slowly floats forward :!Tom the perspective depth of the gallery, borne up by invisible arms, is most theatrical; and the Oriental pomp which sUITounds him is in keeping with it. The dignity of the well-presented old man [pius VI] is admirable; and the moment when he extends his outspread arms to Heaven [p.394] and, slowly lowering and gently closing them, pours over his people a blessing as though brought down from Heaven, is extremely effective; and would be incomparably more effective still, if, swaying so :!Teely beneath the open sky, he would appear to receive the divine blessing directly fTom the blue aether. Now, however, this heavenly blessing is doubly intercepted, by the roof of the Loge and by the Venetian blinds (JalOlI.Yien) unfurled on the balcony; and this did disturb my illusion. But then it was suddenly nullified by one look at the crowd of people sllITounding me; for the blessing was very coldly received True, the whole monstrous mass of humanity suddenly threw itself to the ground -- but it got up again just as suddenly, as though on command, and the faces betrayed a high degree of indifference. The thunder of the Vatican and the Engelsburg (Castel Sant'Angelo) was very weak, and the cannon seemed hardly halfloaded The mounted Papal Guard is the most laughable caricature of the [p.395] old Minotaurs (sic: Centaurs?). As the latter are grown together with the four-legged beast, these poor horseback riders are always separated from them, and one fears at every moment to see them falloff in spite of their heavy and deeply lowered . The illuminated Grave of Christ in the Pauline Chapel is just plain ostentation, and can delight only children.

Afternoon; in St. Peter's Church. We were there again immediately after our meal inorder to hear the Lament of Jeremiab, a composition of Guglielmo, in the Chapel of the Canonici (Canons). These are powerful, lively and energetic fugues, in which the floating voices interweave as in the flight of the high choruses. I have heard this vocal portamento in whole choruses only in Rome. This requires voices bred under a milder sky; and while in Germany one finds individual voices which are equal to the Italian in range and flexibility, we never assemble such a chorus. But these purely harmonizing choirs [p. 396] were suddenly ROMAN DIARY, I 113 inteITUpted in the most baroque manner by the psalmody of the monks, who uninhibitedly intruded their rough and miserable croaking (ihr rauhe.l' elendes Gepliirr dazwischen herleierten).

One proceeds from the Chapel into the Church, and the full-voiced orchestras are attenuated and drowned out by the dull but powerful sound of the popular masses; a gentle twilight fills the building, pilgrims make their way along; long processions of black, white and gray hooded figures glide slowly forward and worship silently before the dimly illuminated tomb; attractive groups of kneeling women, children and old men are formed here and there, worshiping at a respectful distance. The longingly raised eyes of the women, mildly illuminated by the melting candlelight, the inborn grace with which the Roman women kneel, are enchanting. An aged Capuchin, leaning on his knotty stick, seemed to us the prototype of Guido's praying saint. With the increasing dimness we went [p. 397] up to the Sistine Chapel, which I entered with reverent rapture, still glowing inwardly from yesterday's Miserere. No one can tell me by whom this music was composed, which, in one of those blessed hours when the bonds of the body seem loosened, is heard :!Tom a floating choir of angels. It is very old, and remains unchanged; the performance style is, so to speak, passed on by tradition. They name Pergolese (Pergolesi), Jomelli and Guglielmo as composers; may thanks be ever paid to the great spirit, named or unnamed, who was able to conceive and to impart such heavenly euphony! As :!Tom far-off shores of blessed islands, voices float across, now sympathetically complaining, now gently comforting! Gradually they swell, tenderly dying to a fuller harmony, like spring airs in the high-vaulted grove. Again the choir begins in ever-increasing fullness, strength and rapture! Tones of jubilation follow the comforting, quieting, floating harmonies [p.398]-the ever fuller choir rises, rises, rises (comparably to that Ascension of COITeggio in Parma) until the ever tender yet always clear tones suddenly seem to disappear in the measureless ethereal space. New senses opened to my closed vision-the singing became an epiphany, and I saw the musicmaking angels floating higher and higher, above the twilight clouds, until, in the domain ofthe aether, the picture with the voices lost itself

You know that this music is that of an orchestra of sixty human throats, without instrumental accompaniment. Yet these pure-tuned organs excel all other euphony on earth; one does not see the singers, who are concealed in a high lateral loge. Slowly, during the singing, one high altar candle after another is extinguished; and when I opened my eyes I found myself, after the sweet dream of heavenly clarity, fallen back into the gloomy dusk oflife.

Illumination ofthe Cross ofSt. Peter's. [p. 399] From the deep vaulting of the dome, and directly above the high altar, at the midpoint of the church, is suspended a brazen cross, forty feet long and wholly covered with many thousands of lamps. The people who cluster about it, hanging in the air, look like Liliputians; their distance, the breadth of the space in which they hang, and the gigantic size of all sUITounding objects, diminish them more with every passing moment, in that these [objects?], as the lamps are kindled, stand out as larger. The high altar, which stands :!Tee and unencumbered beneath the vaulted cupola, is known to be as high in itself as the Faroese Palace, the greatest of Rome's palaces.

As the cross now quickly takes fire, the supports on which it hangs disappear in the brightness, and it now floats :!Tee in the high vaulted space. This (p. 400J moment is unique, comparable only to itself! It is Michael Angelo's apotheosis; and if sublunary magnificence can emapture one already transfigured, then the spirit of the great Angelo, at each of these illuminations of the cross, floats about in the space of his Pantheon. ROMAN DIARY, I 115 temple, and gleamed above the stately St. Peter's Square, where the crowds of people moved silently this way and that. The silver sheaves of the fountains rose in the nocturnal blue of the air; a dark shadow, the obelisk, raised itself in the silver light St. Peter's Church, shimmering with gold within and silvered without, rose splendidly behind me. [p. 405] In the Miserere, angels' thoughts are made tangible through ethereal harmony! The illumination of the Cross is the transfigured thought of a great human soul.

END OF VOLUME ONE This text was translated

and graciously contributed

to the Sophie Library

by

Richard P. Stebbins, Ph.D.

This text is copyrighted material, and is used by written permission of the author. Fair usage laws apply.

© 2005 i

BRUN95(2)FM

ROMAN DIARY (Tagebuch fiber Rom)

by

FRIEDERIKE BRUN

with Engravings (mit Knpfern)

Second Part

(Volume TwoJ

Zurich

OrelI, FOssli und Compagnie

1801 ii

TABLE OF CONTENTS

The original Table of Contents for Volume II of the German edition is printed on pp. 427- 436 at the end of that volume, but an edited version is placed at the beginning of this translated volume for greater convenience of reference. AJ:, in Volume I, page references to the German edition are given at the end of each chapter entry in the Table of Contents, followed by the corresponding page numbers of the English translation. In the body of the translated text, an English page number appears at the top of each page, while the corresponding German page numbers are shown in square brackets at the appropriate points within the text. I.

Rome, March 28, 1796. Cold, snow, on blossoming trees. Angelica Kaufinann's childhood. Villa Lanti. St. Paul's Church. Casino Corsini, April 3. Feast of the Annunciation, and feast on the Palatine Hill, April 4. Gallery of the Palazzo Doria, April 7. Visit to the M.P. CI. (Museo Pio-Clementino), April 8. Spring of the Villa Pamphili, Aprill3. German, pp. 334; English, pp. 1-9.

II.

Trip to Frascati, Aprill3. Our dwelling; its view and neighborhood. Tusculurn; view from the mountain, April 15. Trip to Grotta Ferrata, April 16. Villa Mondragone; Monte Porcio, view, April 17. Villa Falconieri, April 18. Visit of the Roman mends, April 19. Birthday, April21. Camaldolensian Monastery, April 21. Trip to Lake Albano. Wood of Marino. View. Castel Gandolfo. Its situation and neighborhood. The Grottos of the Nymphs. The Emissary of the Alban Lake. Albano, April 22. Villa Aldovrandini. The monntain heights of Tusculum. Debris and ruins, April 24. Return to Rome, April 27. German, pp. 37-72; English, pp. 10-19.

ill.

May 2: Conversational matter in Rome. . Paintings, statue. May 3: Sacristy of St. Peter's Church. May 4 (1): Corso to [Santa] Croce di Gerusalemme.. May 5-6: Approach of the separation from Rome. Snnset from the Maltese Priory. May 7: Trip to Grotta- Ferrata. Separation! May 8: Departure from Rome for Albano. The lake ofNemi. May 9: Ride to Pallazzuola. Nature. Situation of the Cloister. View. The way to Monte Cavo. Via Consularis. Ruins of the Temple of Jupiter. The beech tree. Villetri. Egyptian antiquities. May 10: Trip through the Pontine Marshes. Terracina. German, pp. 73-96; English, pp. 20-26.

IV.

May II: Trip from Fondi to Naples. Fondi, Mola di Gaeta, sea voyage. The Formian hills. Evening at sea. May 12: Departure. Capua. Nearing Naples. Naples. Dust. Noise. iii Strada di Toledo. The Mole. Chiaio. The sea. Vesuvius. Evening scene on the Bay of Naples. May 13: Morning. The Grotto ofPosillipo. The Vale ofPosillipo. View ofNisida and Pozzuoli. Trip to Portici. May 14: Virgil's Tomb and scenes nearby. May 15: My society in Naples. May 16: Trip via Portici Resina to Torre del Greco. Lava scenes there. Villa Mazzarine in Resina. The Favorite. The seashore below Portici. Trip home. Festival bustle of the Madonna del Largo. May 17: Sea voyage to Punto di Posillipo. Gaiolo. Clear sea. School of Virgil. Nisida. View. May 19: Trip onto the Vomero. Villa Patricio Heavenly situation. View. Gennan, pp. 97-138; English, pp. 27-38.

v.

Naples (continuation). May 20: Thompson. Caroline Filangieri. FuJI moon over the Bay. May 21: Enjoyment of nature in Naples. Amphibious life. My existence in Naples. Friendliness of the people. Cleanliness of the streets. Belvedere. The view downward. Sunset. May 22: Anxieties. Trip to Punto di PosilJjpo. Cave of the Tritons. Wilhelm Tischbein; his Helena; his Goethe; his art cabinet. May 23: Sea voyage on the Bay. The boat full of young fisher fellows. Evening at the palace of Queen Jobanna. May 24: Cabinet of Sir [William] Hamilton. His residence. View from the air-cabinet. May 25: Visit to the brothers Philip and George Hackert. Chamcter of the Hackert paintings. Evening scenes in the Vale ofPosillipo. Mergellina. May 26: Corpus Christi festival. Procession. Populace. Beau monde. Parallels. The King. Facial formations. Strange weather. Kniep; completeness of his works. Ride on the spine ofPosillipo. Disappointment. May 27: Thompson's cabinet. Trip to the Lake of Agnano. Sulfur baths. Dogs' grotto. Pisciarelli. May 28: Trip to Pozzuoli. Temple ofSempis. Bad air; its resuJts. Sea voyage to Misenum. Cave ofTmconaria. Sea voyage. Tavern. People of Pozzuoli. Trip to the Solfatara; view from thence. Descent. Amphitheater. View from the CathedralofPozzuoli. German, pp. 139- 186; English, pp. 39-52.

VL

May 30: Trip from Naples to Vietri and La Cava, and sojourn there. Dust, heat. Lava streams. Antique; old, new. Past Pompeii. ViewofStabio. ValleyofScaffaca. Noondayrest of the travel society. The good woman. The fine eyes. Nocera. Beauty ofthe locality. La Cava. Don Giovene. The way to Vietri; the tavern; embarrassment; help. May 31: Nature of the Valley of La Cava. Customs and education of the inhabitants. June 2: Corpus Christi festival of La Cava. A ride on the Ajutore hill; night testival of St. Ajntore of La Cava. June 39: Quiet stay in La Cava. June 10: Valle Molare. June II: Don Carluzzi. Grotta di Ponega. June 12: Long ride through Grotta di Ponegra, over the hill ofTraonea and down to Vietri. June 13: Sea voyage on the Bay of Salerno, Vietri, Liberatore. Moonlight over La Cava. June 14: Trip to the Abbacy of La Cava. Situation of the choister. German, pp. 187-258; English, pp. 5373. iv

VII.

Continuation of the stay in La Cava. June 15: trip via Vietri and Salerno to Torreone. June 17: Ride on the Liberatore mountain. June 19-20: Friendly visit. Evening scene on the Gulf of Salerno. June 21-23: Culture; industry; popular customs of Cava. June 26: Vineyard of Don Giovene. June 29: Departure from La Cava. Return journey. Arrival in Naples. Festival evening of Sts. Peter and Parn. Modern weight of Gallic swords. German, pp. 259-290; English, pp. 74-82.

Vill.

Naples in the first half of July 1796. Art works in Naples. Studios. The Maimon skeleton. Muse Umnia, Hercules Farnese. Collection of Mr. Rainer, Secretary of the Queen. Theseus and , busts. Paintings ofDomenichino and Titian. Campanian vassels. View. Porcelain manufactury. Venus, Agrippina, and the captive kings. Statues: Indian Bacchus, Euripides. Marcns Brutus, Homer, etc., busts. San Carlo Theater. The Todi. ~ The museumof Portici. Room of the ceramic vessels. Lectisternium, sacrificial table, watering pot, basin, tripod, etc. Room(s) oflamps, of the libmry, of weights, of busts, of candelabra. Kitchen of Pompeii. Room of foods. Room of Mercury; of the Sleeping Faun. Room of the masks and of Isis. Orestes and Iphigenia, a sketch. Helena. The Nolensian Vase. - Portici. Antique fresco paintings from Herculaneum and Pompeii. Model of the ancient theater of Pompeii. ~ Capo di Monte. Paintings by da Vinci, del Sarto, the Carmcci, Titian, Raphael. Sketch of the Last Judgment of Michael Angelo. Campanian vessels, gems, intaglios, coins, closed. View from Capo di Monte. - Scene of the Chiaio in Naples. Character of the social tone there. Filangieri; the fate of his mends. July 12: Excursion in the city. The Mole. Popular paintings. The fish market. Concert at Lady Hamilton's. German, pp. 291-334; English, pp. 83-97.

IX.

The Hermitage on Vesuvins. Jrny 14, 1796: Flight from Naples. Route viaPortici; situation; the way farther upward; contrast of Vesuvius and Somma. A look backward on the sea, Naples, and the islands. View of the seven new cmters of Atrio del Cavallo. The hermitage. Sunset over Campania Fe lice. The sea, the coasts and islands. July 15: Stormy morning; volcanic valley of Vetrano. Vegetation. View. The hermit, Father Domenico from Genoa. Afternoon: ride to Atrio del Cavallo. Burial place of the hermits. Evening observance. Jrny 16: Morning scene. Ride to the Bocce nuove. View from the edge of the cmter. Return to Naples. German, pp. 335-358; English, pp. 98-104. x.

Extract from the diary of my sojourn on the island of Ischia. July 18, 1796: Departure from Naples. The Castell del Uovo. Scene of the Bay. PosiJIipo. Nisida. Clear sea. Bridge of Caligula. Cape Misenum. View of Capri. Cape Martino. Bay of Gaeta. Vivam. Procyta v [procida]. Ischia. Lava surf The Castello. Borgo d'Ischia. Landing between Castiglione and Lacce. View from my accommodations. July 23: Pictures of Ischia. My life on the island. July 25: Continuation; complete solitude. Ride to Casamiccia; popular festival there. Return via Lacce. July 26: Villa of Prince Aqua-Vita; dryness; morning hours on Ischia. July 27: Sea voyage to Furia d'Ischia. View ofthe eastern part of the island; volcanic ruins. Jrny 28: The fleet. - August 5-6: Unusual drought. Tide on the Epomeo; view downward on the island; evening scene. August 7: Raindrops. August 8: Rain. Tasso. Morning; day; evening. August 10: Continuing the description of the island. August 11: Sea voyage to Borgo d'Ischia; description of the Lago del Re coast. The lava stream. Splendid sea views. Borgo d'Ischia. View from the platform of the Castell. Return home in the twilight. Observations. August 16: Temperament of the Ischians. August 17: Apearances of aerial and linear perspective. August 19: Seclusion. Trip to Furia d'Ischia; the village; the chapel. The ride back; cultivation ofthe land. August 20: Uncertainty. August 21: Thundery atmosphere; unusual light reflections; a little pilgrimage. August 22: Dolce far niente. August 23: Ride to the il Vosco crater. August 25: Denial of a passport to Sorrento, and ill humor. Augnst 26: The Ischians. Augnst 27: Farewell to Ischia. August 28: Departure. Procyta. Cara Rosa mia. Popular festival on Procyta; beauty of the people there; costumes of the women. The Bay of Naples. The dolphins. German, pp.359-426; English, pp. 105-125.

[The "Errata" pages at the end of Volume II of the German edition are omitted from this translation, the necessary corrections having been made in the English text] ROMAN DIARY, II 1 BRUN95] L

[p.3] Rome, March 28, 1796. The fine weather has flown away with the Settimana santa. - Here on the Pincio we are enjoying a kind of spring days that even people in Copenhagen wouJd complain about. Last night it actually snowed, and at eight o'clock this morning snow still lay on the gronnd in the little garden outside my window. Nearby were omnge trees glowing with ftuit and blossoms, flowering peach, pear and lemon trees. Only at sunset did I venture into the warm St. Peter's Church, which for me is now forever consecmted as the temple of holy remembrance. There, the gold of evening played in gracious reflections through the vaults, and even when it had long been dark around me at a lower level, the high cupola still glowed in deep reddish-purple. March 29. [p. 4] It is still bitterly cold! Warmly dressed, one can scarcely thaw ont even in the midday sun. The Campo d' Annibale is snow white, and the high Sabines glitter like glaciers in the snowy and icy air. The shivering Zoega became furious when I jubilantly imagined myself in Switzerland, while the heart of this veteran among the Romanized northerners was congealing. Giuntotardi accnses the numerous Danish colony that now lives here of having brought the Scandinavian spring over the Alps with us. March 30. Still cold, and now storm and rain! I have made this confession to you so that when I am again at home and sitting irritably behind the stove you can ask me, as you puJl my ear, "What was the freezing temperature in March 1796 in Rome?" I warmed myself in body and soul at Angelica's. We spent [p. 5] some hours in familiar chat. She told me of her childhood - and youth - I wish I couJd tell you so naively and sweetly in her own words! "Angelica Kauffmann was born in the Bregenz forest (Bregenzer-Wald). Between

Hohen-Embs and Feldkirch one sees on the left a high pymmidal hill; at its foot lies the village ofDornbirn. Adjoining the village, a path leads upward to the Bregenz forest; on it, one soon arrives at a lonely level area where lies, beneath ftuit trees on fresh Alpine meadows, and in deep solitude, the little village of Schwarzenberg; there Angelica was born, and there her family home still stands. She was named Angelica after a nun (Klosterfrau) ofSalis-Seewis. Who was her mother's friend and her godmother (as our Salis had already told me, with smiling pride). She was and remained the one dear child of her parents. Her father was a painter, and completed pious pictures for the cloisters, and altarpieces for the [p. 6] small churches of Lombardy.

She early left the Alpine valley, whose sweet pictures of peace and innocence remained forever in her heart and mind. From an early age and often, her father took her with him on his occupational travels into upper Lombardy. Her artistic talent first showed itself when the poor little one had so much trouble in learning the angular Gothic letters and numbers in the children's primer -- whereas she assimilated and remembered more readily the essentials of the human countenance, which, in South Germany, adorn the primers of art-loving Nuremberg and are found, the profile moon-face, nose and ears, in multiple copies on household slates. The good parents understood the hint given by Nature; and Angelica early learned to draw under her father's supervision. ROMAN DIARY, II 2 Once her father took her to Milan. -- Her eyes still sparkled as from the reflection of the dawn that was then kindled in her young soul, [p. 7] as she now glimpsed a Holy Family of Raphael and the Last Supper ofLionardo. Trembling, glowing and in tears, she stood before the painting; the confused pictures of her imagination had been given life, and the wishes of her heart a goal!

Often on her many trips over the Alps she returned for weeks and months to her ancestml valley, and gladly would she have ended her life there, had the climate been less severe: "for people live there as innocent as children!" she added, describing to me the customs of the simple mountain folk, and their picturesque costumes, in lovely heartfelt tones! She was sad to learn that a carriage road, instead of the narrow footpath, now leads to Schwarzenberg: "If only innocence and truth do not now also mpidly forsake the land!" she feelingly sighed. April L

On this day, which again brought fine weather, we made a trip to the Villa [p. 8] Lanti, which lies on the northwestern slope of the Montorio. The view from the termce is unencompassably wide and fwl. One has the whole bow of the horizon, and within it Rome! Only, this view lacks charm. The multitudinous objects lie closely packed together, and nothing stands out. It was also not a favomble moment, for the midday sun beat down on the stony masses; what they call the garden of the villa consists of high stone terraces, so lacking even the shadow of a shadow that I became quite ill from the reflection of the sunbeams off the whitish stones. In departing by the villa's gate and immediately driving down, there opens through the vawting a view of St. Peter's between fine groups of trees. -- The Tiber, in this view, remains mysteriously hidden. The old Alban [Mountain] puffed clouds like a volcano, as if he wanted to assert his old character; and heavy mists blew across the sinking Campagna toward the sea. [p.9] In the afternoon, we mends visited together the tomb of [Cecilia] Metella. It was quite definitely cool; but the air was pure, and the views into the hills were capriciously illuminated by broken cloud reflections. Here and there, from Sabina's far-off mountain clefts, the white clouds flowed down like incipient glaciers; a reddish purple soon colored the fine squared stones of the mausoleum, and settled on the everywhere visible grave monuments of the Via Appia, where we thoughtfully wandered. We drove back via St. Paw's in a sinking twilight that spread deep vaporous tints of violet over the distant hills. April 2. How lovely it is to breathe the pure spring morning air on Triniti dei Monti; then to visit the dear neighbor Angelica, who conducted me in fiiendly fashion to her little garden, where she wanders maiden-tenderly [p. 10] among the flowers (and only one who knows Angelica can apply this expression to a woman of fifty-four years)! Villa Borghese. Here, where now all spring gods and graces flit about the little lake and on the wings of the gliding silver swans, or cradle themselves on tender shoots of the weeping willow (which forgets to be what its name implies) and the gold-draped citysus, and swing with the breezes! I sank into a deeply split stone-oak (quercus sessiliflora), and looked with intoxication at all the splendor and beauty, while Lotte tried to coax the tame swans on the picturesque bank.

St. Paul's Church. In the afternoon Zoega and I made a pilgrimage to this noble and ROMAN DIARY, II 3 favorite temple of ours. The sun was declining as we entered, and all of the tall, slender columns shone in the golden light that came through the high windows of the vestibule. From the lonely grass-grown outer court, we looked at the simple facade and forgot, in the [p.] high simplicity of the whole, the trivial additions oflater times.

I now entered the church, as though it were the first time (for when it is closed, one is always made to enter from behind, through the choir), and wandered about in the ancient grove of columns in order to seek out for myself the one flawless beauty among them, the Venus de'

Medici among columns, with which our noble Luise lately fell fatally in love. She (the column in question) was not among the twenty-four bewitching nymphs from Hadrian's tomb -- which stand in double rows, thirteen on the right and eleven on the left side of the nave, with the elegant halt:. channeling, the rounded body (presumably because of the lntercolumnium around the round tomb), with the dainty trefoil decoration and the small Attic foot. Noble is the colossal smooth column on the left, by the entrance into the tribnne; but elegance and nobility separated do not make a Venus.

I [p.12] now renounced the honor of finding the goddess myself, and after Zoega had had his fill of laughing at me, he had me ask the young monk who was guiding us, "To the fairest of the fair?" The latter conducted me inside the tribune to the left, where between a great bootic' Minerva and a stiff Juno stands a really very beautiful, most pure and gently grown column of Cippolino. -- Thefairest of the fair! We seated ourselves on the great base of the immense column of Granito rosso, in function presumably an old honomry column (for in Rome there was no Temple of the [Tempio dei Giganti]). There are 130 old columns standing in St Paul's Church; the 44 of the second row of columns in the nave are from the time ofTheodosius and not antique.

The sun had already set, and only the unhealthy evening mists in this locality could have removed us from the building, where I wouJd willingly have awaited the last dusk of this columnar forest! Delightful was the homeward journey in the evening twilight and mild [p.13] air, and the greening Tiber banks lay lightly aligned above the mirroring stream. April 3.

Casino Corsini. In this Olympian hall, our dear (female) friend plays hostess; and you shouJd just see how magnificently it clothes her, when she, the friendliest of Junos, hospitably receives us, and gives to us poor mortals the fullness of the nectar ofOrvieto, which (I know not how) is always linked with the darling of the Muses - probably out of gmtitude for the loveliest of the Fauns' songs! Today's air was very mild and gentle, but the sky was covered with moving seas of clouds, which gradually covered the monntainous horizon that opened widely around us. Here and there, beams of sunlight part the clouds, and there suddenly appears a distant highland, or a shimmering snow ridge, or a reddish cliff summit. Soon it rained over Marino, then over Tivoli and Monticelli; [p.14] but we from our 01ympus quietly surveyed the restless activity of the Jupiter of the lower atmosphere. And a splendid sunset was granted us. - Pure and cloudless, cloaked only in a glowing

'German boo tisch, presumably related to the constellation Bootes,from the Greek word for herdsman or plowman. (Translator's note. ) ROMAN DIARY, II 4 veil of mist, the sun sank for us, and solemnly declined into the tops of the pine trees! At this moment, my Louise gave me her picture, and asked me, "in seeing it, to think often of this hour." That is why, in V******, you saw my eye, misted in sadness, dwell on the loved picture in a sweet dream of remembrance. Beautiful was this sunset - but, as the season advances, the twilights grow higher and more animated; in June, Jwy and August the twilight unfolds all its magic over the Campagna.

April 4. Today is the ABsumption of Mary, and a great festival. The Pope rides on a white, splendidly caparisoned horse, accompanied by nephews and cardinals; the procession goes [p.17] to the Church of (Santa) Maria sopra Minerva, where today 400 young girls are provided for (ausgestattet) and the Pope gets 3000 Scudi for the Mass which he reads. I wowd gladly have gone to the church, to see pretty Roman maidens, but the crowd made it impossible for me. The procession went past us, the Pope and the Cardinals, the former carried in the sedan chair, the latter driven; the horses followed, with only Duke Braschi riding. His face is extremely repwsive; crude pride and harshness are its principal features - the people crowding around accompanied him with heavy silence and angry looks. It is said quite openly that he delivers grain to the French by way of Ostia while the people of the Campagna are starving! I too gave my small circle of Roman friends a little feast on the Palatine, at which however various Olympians were ungmcious to me. First was Jupiter Pluvius! The sky was azure blue, the tables were already set in the shadow of the oaks [p.16] amid the fragments of the marble columns, with a flowery seat prepared for my Louise; and flower petals were strewn on the table, when from a cheerful sky it suddenly began to rain! Now, tables, chairs, glasses, plates, guests and hostess fled into the narrow quarters of the superintendant of the Farnese Gardens. Here we pitted inward joyfulness and confidential chatter against the somber heaven, and the rose of friendship and comradely jesting spread its fragrance.

Say, which of the gods could we have offended in this way? And yet the smiling Dionysos showed his ire -- and treated us, under the guise of Sarmiento, ostensibly the most honorable of hosts, to wine that was stupefYing to us and adulterated with nocturnal herbs. __ The Graces, and Aesculapius in the person of Domeier, watched over your (female) friends! M*******n [Matthisson?] apparently was preserved by the faun's song and by insidious familiarity with the friend from Orvieto [i.e., the wine]; Count M*****r was rescued by his refined artistic sense, which here sensed art where he was seeking Nature. -- Only our [p. 17] two beloved antiquarians were protected by no god and no daemon! The disguised Bacchus did his work, without having accorded them the pleasure of gmtification (for both are very temperate), and there soon began a bacchanal in which the two mends (who certainly had blasphemed a Bacchus torso, degrading it to something like an Antinous), put on the most comic of all scenes for the others who were either half or completely sober. I had my place at table between the two of them. The drunken performance (Riiuychgen) of the noble D**** began with the full-flooding praise of his mends in the distant Fatherland, and his memory did not betray him in the service [i.e., did not lead him to omit acknowledgment] of any friendship. With happy impetuosity its name resounded from his already stammering mouth! **t [Hirt] returued to the Swabian meadows and his beloved relations. But there now began a dispute between the two enthusiasts which will remain unique since people have disputed under the snn without mutual understanding, simply to hear. ***a [Zoega] asserted that in Goethe's tale of the green serpent [p. 18] (which he had read the evening before), he had found all the wisdom of the ancient ROMAN DIARY, II 5 Egyptians, and the so long vainly sought-after meaning of all the Alexandrian and Theban obelisks. H**t maintained that the constitution ofthe Swabian imperial cities was the most perfect since Solon and founded states and gave laws. There, he said, the Franks had found the one first-rate model and realized all their ideal dreams! Both supported their contentions with profound argrunents and brilliant proofs. Neither heard a syllable of what the other was saying -- each [however] imagined he was being contradicted, and it was only their mutual tolerance and old friendship that kept them at peace. But we others were dying of laughter, and thus far felt no grudge against Bacchus Sarmiento for having somewhat adwterated the Vino d'Orvieto; but when we went outdoors, the weather having improved, and when our friends became deathly sick on the marble benches and also, when those who had merely [p. 19] tasted the wine got headaches and stomachaches, I decided to tell you all this, so that you cowd warn other foreigners of the tricks of the Roman Bacchus Sarmiento of the Spanish Square.

After sending home our poor sick comrades with their doctor, we remained under the oak trees, whose blackish green was set offby a fine carob tree (Johannisbrodtbaum) with pretty leafage. Two by two we wandered beneath the shady oak aisles of the Gallery, as far as the steep Velia, where the house of Public 01 a once stood above the Lupercalia. During coffee, the friends played around with the children among the fragmentary columns, entablatures, sarcophagi and bas-reliefs, leading to the formation of quite wonderful groups. Then we went to the southern terrace to enjoy the beautifw evening. In the northern gallery of the imperial palaces, Domitian, according to Suetonins, had the marble walls polished to such a point that [p. 20] like mirrors they reflected all attitudes and gestures beside and behind him. -- How anxiously must his slowly ensnared sacrificial victims have trembled, where everything about them became a traitor, and even inanimate Nature had to serve the miserable cowardly tyrant. The evening was charming! Here, where blossoms adorued the ruins even in January, the most luxuriant fwlness of plant life is now poured out. Over and under each other, unfolded and mixed, new life exhales its fragrance, breathes and shines through the immense ruins! Oak, elm, palm, olive, almond, peach, pear and apple trees bloom and interspersedly display their green leafage! The grapevine buds and breathes; the aloe hangs down picturesquely; the tender gold blooms of the broom and citysus families glisten out of dark shadows! We went home sated with joy.

April5. Scirocco. Then one takes refuge in the churches and the darkest palaces in order to breathe. [p. 21 J In the church of [San] Luigi de' Francesi there is a most gracious little Madonna with Child by Correggio; the child in particular is divinely beautiful and childishly tender. April 6.

With the friends, I visited the Gabinum Museum. We found particularly interesting today (I) the bust of the youngest daughter of Marcus Agrippa, later the wife of Tiberi us. A most interesting little face, tender, naIve and yet full of strength and firmness, bordering closely on the capricious. She is M******'s chosen darling. (2) Tiberius as a youthful bust, a well-formed face, but how the demon of cold malice, on the right side, peeps out in the very slightly distorted mouth and in one eye of the youth! (3) Tiberius as a man with the citizens' crown; here all traits are explicit, and no one can any longer mistake the Satan! (4) Fine bust of Marcus Aurelius as a ROMAN DIARY, II 6 youth. (5) Next to it a statue of Commodus, also as a youth [p. 22] and, unfortunately, only too like his father [Marcus Aurelius]; but he is characterized nevertheless by the stiff staring eyes and the slackness of the features. (6) I also immediately recognized Lucilla as Marcus Aurelius' daughter. -- How painfwly instructive it is to follow these family traits. Unhappy Marcus Aurelius! Unhappy in wife and children, and yet father of your peoples!

In the afternoon we visited the cast of the supercolossal Hercules of Canova. He is hurling Lichas into the sea. A bold imagination, insufficiently restmined by mature judgment, seems to me to characterize this work. Professional artists criticize him for a lack of deeper study of the nude anatomy, and of the law of gravity. This last I felt in the anxiety with which I passed the huge overhanging mass of the Hercwes. This subject would have been, since the ancients, a subject suitable only for Michael Angelo.

[p.23] April 7. The Doria Palace and Gallery; today with mend Hetsch. This is one of the most interesting, as well as one of the biggest and most brilliant painting collections of Rome. llike it particularly because the outstanding landscapes of the great artists with which it is embellished always offer such lovely resting places after the exhausting enjoyment of historical painting. Here are Orizontes - Annibale Carraccios - Guaspre [sic: Gaspard] Poussins _ W ouwerrnanns, Rubenses and splendid Claude Lorrains. Even the vestibules are adorned with a luxurious splendor of what in part are very good decomtive paintings. Today I squeeze out (entschOpfe) only drops from the great gallery.

(I) Mary visits Elizabeth; large painting by Garofalo. The Elizabeth is a majestic Sibyl, full oflofty intellect and inner strength. Mary stands modestly before her, with her inexpressihly tender and earnestly formed little head gently bowed. It is the fecnndated [p. 24] Aquileia. Anna behind her is drawn so largely (grandioso), and so masterfully and picturesquely draped, and the old Zacharias a graybeard, that even Raphael could not depict more splendidly. The loveliest color harmony, and the quietly conscientious execution characterize this, like most of the paintings of the sturdy Garofalo. (2) Next to it hangs a heavenly lily of a Madonna in ethereal vesture of Sasso Ferrato. (3) A quietly felt Claude Lorrain with gently overrnisted mountain distance, on which the afternoon light begins to sink. The foreground is cool and cozily inviting.

(4-7) There now follow four splendid landscapes by the great Annibale [CarracciJ, in which he depicts historical episodes with miniature figures in the most charming way. First: A boldly willowed {kiihngesiiulter} wood; moving clouds pour dusk among the shadows, and the trees sway in the wind; beneath are splendid figures, lightly strewn. Second: Assumption of the Madonna. An open wood-meadow lies there; [p. 25] the holy mends and apostles look with astonishment into the empty sarcophagus; in the distance rolls the dark blue sea. It is before sunrise, and early tremors wander over the waves and rustle in the high grove. On the right, the sun rises behind irradiated mountain ridges. Everything is held in expectant stillness; but the Madonna floats high over the dark sea, upward in blue airy spaces in a halo of morning radiance, light and love! Her figure is quite spread out in blessed rapture, fwl of joy and eternal love! Around her press gracious angels, among whom I particularly single out the one on the right in green raiment. Third: Adoration of the Magi, in a fresh landscape under splendid trees. Here the groups are as animated as possible, and among them delicious youths', women's and old men's heads. Fourth: The Birth of Christ This, like the ABsumption of the Madonna, is ROMAN DIARY f II 7 delightful poetry. A spreading twilight field rests in solemn stillness, dimly illuminated by the setting new moon [p. 26] and by the streaming radiance of the angelic band, who, floating in sweet harmonies, herald salvation and peace to men. Far away over the nocturnal region, the heavenly messengers of joy descend to the innocent shepherds. (8) A wonderfuJly beautiful Claude Lorrain. The sun pours a dull silver light through the clouds onto a flooding sea; the left foreground is filled by a royal tree which spreads shadows and coolness all around, while on the right a temple rises in purest sunshine.

(9) A large landscape, which the purest sense of Nature elicited (? entzauberte) from the truth. It is the gentlest harmony in color tones that draws you irresistibly into these distances; by Claude. (10) Some bold and far-flung perspectives with a solemn wood foreground, by Guaspre (Gaspard) Poussin, who for me is unique in this geme.

(II) Splendid landscape by Rubens: two meadow-hills slope downward to form a fresh green valley-bosom, where a herd of fine horned [p. 27] cattle are crossing to a nearby watering place. A pure evening light lingers on the meadow heights, which shimmer gold-green; one sees the heavily corpulent cattle wandering; a very simple and pure sense of Nature speaks from this landscape. (12) A Claude, in his first manner. The distance is less tender and melting, but very definite and drawn with truth to Nature. (13) A fine small Holy Family, I believe by Francesco da Immola.

(14) Some remarkable paintings by and , on which our patriotic hearts lovingly lingered.

(15) Famous portmit ofJohanna by Lionardo. In it one recognizes without difficulty the original of his Vanity in the Barberini Palace. It is inexpressibly "finished" (for me a litle too much so). Drapery and jewelry are really there, and one takes hold of the purple velvet; the rather flat face is raised by the compelling Venus eye. (16) Splendid portraits by Van Dyke, Titian and Rubens. These were after all undoubtedly the greatest portrait [p. 28] painters of all time, and I would let go all of their historical paintings that I know (I was never in Dusseldorf and Antwerp) for their portraits -- in which there is a life, truth and naturalness without equal; while their "Ideal" almost always sinks down to the most commonplace Nature (in which, however, I except some lovely Madonnas of Van Dyke and some Descents from the Cross by Rubens). As evidence of what I have said was (17) a Sacrifice ofIsaac, by Titian. The body ofIsaac is real veal, and only a little puftY, in addition; Abraham is vulgar, like the first best corporal. The angel, who would not be so bad otherwise, has sprained his left arm. I pass over a large number ofGuidos, Orizontes, Garofalos, etc. And yet we have still not reached the end of the Great Gallery, behind which are situated a large number of richly upholstered cabinets; but I am at the end of my strength, and to my extreme joy mend Hetsch had to admit that he too had had enough! confessing [p. 29] to me also that to him, too, esthetic overloads were no less oppressive than bodily ones. When I exceed my measure, I become (in God's name, as the Bemese say) seasick; but to this point I have never, out of respect for art, ROMAN DIARY, II 8

quite allowed it to develop.

In the afternoon I drove with the beloved (female) friend to the Tiber, near the Tomb of the Nasos. The fresh green of the meadows in the little valleys (Thalgen) on the Annio, the Colle dei Venti (Hill of the Winds), and the Mons sacer (Sacred Mount) shone delightfully in the gold of evening; the blooming pear trees and the tender peaches and the almond treetops cast Elysian shadows. -- Ah! what a paradise this Campagna could be, with better development (Anbau), with its hills rolling a thousand ways! For it is, in the charm even of unimproved fonnation (der unbekleideten Bildung), as in beautiful surroundings of hills and splendid distances, uniquely beautifw and varied [ even] in its raw form.

[p.30] April 8. Today the mends, my Cicerones, my Winckelmann, were in the P.CC [PioClementinoJ Museum. They had been accompanied there by the Apostle Hirt; but I had been there twice alone as a freebooter. In the Animals' Room we became children. (I) The Camel's Head seemed to us to bleat out that dreadful "Che vouoi" in Cazotte's Devil-Love. (2) The Sow with Piglets is unsurpassable; perhaps the Pallanteian Sow [Sow of Pallas] of the Aeneid? (3) By the Ass's Head that is about to bray, I had to cover my ears; for in all eternity I do not accustom myselfto this nerve-racking outcry. (4) A fine gray cow. (5) Frightful truth in the allegory of the god of annihilation, Mithras.

In the Muses' Room, [I noted the] fine expression of the so-called Herms of Alcibiades and ABpasia. Great Gallery. (I) The lovely . (2) The Gmcious Maiden, restored as a Danaide. (3) The coldly handsome Paris.. (4) The famous [p. 31] Genius: for me, in his cold, expressionless, flawless beauty, as much too etiolated (niichtern) as the Winckelmann-Borghese one is too well nourished. In the next room, Busts: (I) Titus. With real discomfort we discovered features of Vitellius in this face. (2) Frightfully expressive head of Camcalla. (3) Good, hearty Antoninus Pius! How gladly I linger before you! I never can pass him without a secret caress. (4) Nero Bust, travestied as a laurel-crowned Apollo; but unmistakable. (5) Messalina, said to be very like Madame R**z from B****n [Berlin?], who is completing her studies here. But it is undeniable that this bust is astonishingly like Catharine II. (6) Corbulo, whom one finds everywhere, who bores me, and with whom I am also annoyed that he has the nerve to give himself out to be Marcus Brutus, that is, the so-called Marcus Brutus of the Capitol We now went through the open gallery [p.32] which has the splendid view of the Janiculus. Here Juno sits as wetnurse to a young Domitian, Nero, Commodus, or some other scapegrace (Friichtgens) of that nature. Ah! the Queen of Olympus has come a long way!

Fine cabinet, with the porphyry chairs (the steam chair) and the fine antique mosaic floor.

In another cabinet, (I) with swung torch: lovely figure, chaste garment, pure outline of the limbs. The head is put on, the arms restored, so the lovely statue was prohably very arbitrarily named. (2) Venus Genitrix; a fwlness of participatory life swells out beneath the beltless garment, in enticing but not noble outlines. Also the eye and also the flat smiling unthinking forehead, and the sensuous mouth -- everything speaks; and this is not Prnxiteles' divine mother oflove!! The damp garment clings to the limbs. -- Oh how much more chaste is ROMAN DIARY, II 9 [p. 33] the unclothed Venus de' Medici! (3) Very well preserved statue of Adonis, fwly formed but not yet sowed (noch unbeseelt). Not that tender glow, not that pensive recollection of sweet experiences of the charming darling of the Chigi Palace. (4) The Paris, opposite him, already has much more awareness, with much less capacity for feeling. Upper Part of the Museum. (l) The two splendid porphyry sarcophagi: that of Constantia, from her gmve monument, decorated with the same vines and grapes, and, probably, that of Constantine in the Upper Rotunda. (2) The Discus Thrower. (3) The tightly belted Charioteer. (4) The Circus Car (Zirkuswagen). (5) A fine youthful Bacchns, whose soft outlines verge on girlishness. (6) A fine old man's statue of the Indian Bacchus (in figure very Ike my late father).

Lower Room. (I) Chloris, the pale, youngest and only surviving daughter of Niobe. A distance runner in Olympia, she appears as [p. 34] victorious palm-bearer. Pure virginal quality of the forms and face.

We now took refuge in the gardem, plucking our laps and bosoms fwl of the late violets and the lovely Cyclamen Europeum, with which the lawn of the Vatican Gardens is covered.

April 13. I spent this day happily and alone in my dear Villa Pamphili. The high flower-grass of the great meadows under the pines is already being mowed. How the breath of the Aura breathed through the fmgrant grass, which soon sank audibly under the sickle; how the aether shone through the pines' umbrellas! The four great Babylonian pastures are after all unique in their complaining beauty; their tender locks float on the lagoon; they seem to breathe. For some hours I lay in the high flower-grass, and let myself be at ease with the flowers and blossoms. Only the elms, mulberries and plane-trees bud first, bristling inflexibly; all other shrubs and trees blossom and turn green. 10

BFlUN95],continued II. TRIP TO FRESCATI (FRASCATI) AND SOJOURN THERE. April 13, 1796. (p. 37] And Frascati? How do you like it? How can one live so long in Rome, without having been in Frascati? Without having seen the birth country of the Catos - the place of exile of the Tarquins, and Cicero's chosen refuge? Patience, dear impatient soul! Today we have broken camp! It will be difficult to separate from our loved mends! So close to the great separation! But were the faithless ones not without me in Pompeia's vaults? Without me in Paestum's temples? I must, as you know, always become angry in order to come to a prompt and sensible resolution - so I awaken the slumbering recollection, and off we go! [p.38] It is a fine day, between spring and summer! As we gradually ascend from the Campagna into the lovely hill country, the airs blow cooler against us; these fruitfw terraces gradually separate themselves from the highlands. Powerfwly the wooded Alban Mountain raises itself ever higher on our right hand! The foothills receive us in the gentle shadows of the olive groves, between which the budding vines are beginning to turn green. Here stand pear, cherry and plum trees, just in their first bloom; we are rising into a rejuvenated spring; many trees which around Flome already cast a shadow are here just showing their swelling buds. While they were occupying my rented cottage just at the end ofFrascati, I bestrode the terrace of the Villa Conti, which is celebrated for its very broad view. On the left lies the silver shining sea, girdling the Roman plain; just before me lies Rome, embedded in its Campagna. Rome. (p. 39] seen in perspective through the telescope of Tivoli's gorge, seems magically raised up: charmingly the tender green carpeting of wheat swells up the hillside beneath the pale yellow- green olive trees; below on the hillside are greening the alder and the hornbeam. Here on the slope of the mountain, oaks, mulberries, sycamores and plane trees are still without leaves. We have found a little nest just such as I wowd wish; quite isolated at the end of the town, near where the Tusculan hill rises steeply. In the middle between the Piccolomini and Taverna villas. The former is so close that its gateway is only forty paces from the door of my corner house. Before my windows is the curved back of the hill with the splendid palaces of the Aldovrandini and Ruffinelli villas, and high above lies the Capuchin monastery. From pine, oak and plane groves, shot through with splendid groups of cypresses, the palaces shine down from high above the vineyards and olive groves. The country road runs near the house, (p. 40] girdling the hillsides. From there, in the glow of evening, I overlooked the channing valley between the hills of Algidus and Tibur; recognize the whitish Solfatara, and follow the course of the Annio. The three Monticelli stand in the dark plum fragrance; and far above Tivoli, the snow of the high mountains sparkles in Sabina. We are snugly comfortable here. All the villas stand empty, and are mine! For the Roman, alienated from Nature, kills these pamdisiacal days, in the city - but to the foreigners (especially the German) everything stands open. April 15. Straight from bed, wandering for pleasure beneath the sunlit laurels of my Villa Piccolomini while reading in the English Memorabilia ofXenophon, I enjoyed the delightful view and breathed the balsam ofthe Ausonian [Italian] airs. 11

Tusculum. We hurried to reach the bare meadow-summit of the old hiIJ before the heat we feared to encounter. [p. 41] The way up is wonderfully beautiful: one rides in part through the Piccolomini, Falconieri, Aldovrandini and Ruffinelli villas, and through the groves of the Capuchin monastery. The whole plant world is green and fragrant, blooms, buds and unfolds itself1 Beneath the darkly gleaming Laurlls Cera~w;, Viburnum and the Daphnian laurel, the Cytisw; Laburnum and Niger, and the tree-high Genista lower their clusters, umbels and golden wreaths. In the light shadow, the tender grass is covered with violets, Sinngriin, pansies, and the honey-scented varieties of the Orchis: the white, bright blue, and violet anemones, gently rocking on their slender stems, shine like the innocent glances of young beauties; and the charming Cyclamen winks, with backward combed locks, from the darkness of the boscage. Soon we climb to the bald summit ofthe Tusculan hill. With us determinedly climbs the old, darkly wooded Alban Mountain; [p. 42] with the bright green of a Swiss Alpine meadow, the Campo d' Annibale lies between the two mountain peaks, both crowned with oak and chestnut woods.

Separating the slopes of the Tusculan and Alban mountains is a little valley filled with grain fields, detached houses, and orchards, and the Valle delle Molare, named for the mill stream that flows through it. On the cliff-side hangs like a nest, beneath one peak of the Algidus, Rocca di Papa. Then follows the last height of the Jupiter Latialis, now called Monte Cavo. On the backbone of the declining heights lie Fajalo Albano, the wood-wreathed Castel Gandolfo, and lower down Marino. Beneath us at the foot of the mountain is Grotta Ferrata. A charming path winds down from our height into the valley. But we turn back to the height and reach the bald summit, where hung the municipality of Tuscwum. We still saw deeply vawted [p. 43] walls of great buildings. In the performance area (Szena) of the theater, whose seats one recognizes by the heightened earth wall, they were just plowing for the summer harvest; but the north wind, which we scarcely felt down below, howls around this barren peak, and I flee from this old transalpine friend. In riding down, we lingered on the terraces of the villas that seemed to float upon the mountain. All of them, from different directions, enjoy a splendid view of the hill-enclosed Campagna, and I plan to visit them mther often.

April 16. The morning air on these mountain slopes is as balmy and mild as the evening air is rough and severe. Accordingly, the nightingale sings until toward noon in the tenderly budding shadows of the plane trees and maples, whose complete unfolding is still delayed by the rough night winds. We drove to Grotta Ferrata. The way is inexpressibly delightfw; on the crescentshaped [p. 44] slope between the Tusculan and Alban mountains lies pleasant Frascati, with its cathedral church, its splendid villas, and the sturdy vegetation of its picturesque groves of trees. On the left side, in the direction of Monte Porcio, the proud VilJa Mondragone rises on one tip of the bow; toward the sea, there rises toward us the splendid ViJla Mont' Alto. A small and charming mountain cleft, picturesquely hewn out of the old volcano, nms down hill in front of the villa, and is filled with a luxuriant growth of fine trees; above the swaying treetops the eye bathes itself in the sea and Campagna, then floats far past Rome to the forget-me-not blue distances ofthe Apennines.

In Grotta Ferrata we visited the beloved friend of my youth, my dear Julie R. [Reventlow?]. Ah! Hesperian airs do not alleviate the prolonged sufferings that attacked her 12 amid the very spring of a most blooming life, enveloping the noble sufferer in a thousand transformations, yet without [p. 45] ever being able to suppress this high and tender spirit, or to fetter this Psyche always straining toward higher regions. The view from the balcony of my noble mend's residence, which lies unencumbered on the slope, is very extensive; for it is dominated in the north and west by the sinking Campagna and the sea; in the south and north, the nearby Monte Cavo rules the neighborhood, and one looks upward past vineyards and olive groves directly into the hanging Rocca di Papa.

We made our pleasant way back through the nearby wood - but ab! even in the woods they cut the trees, and neither god nor mortal defends the poor Dryads. Not only are the elm alleys everywhere cut, but they spare neither the olive trees, the holy primeval oaks, nor the mourning cypresses. Were notthis earth situated under this heaven, all these hills would long since have been bare - and will none the less soon be so in view of the ever-increasing shortage of wood. [p. 46] I spent the afternoon alone with my daughter in the nearby Villa Taverna. One looks from the olive hills into the charming in-between valley toward Tivoli, past the enigma of the Villa Hadriani and the silver-flashing Teverone. April 17.

Sunday. I held my morning pmyer with Carl, while the nightingale fluted from the oaken night of the Villa Piccolomini. Oh, sweet solitude! Oh, pure enjoyment of undisturbed self consciousness! - Oh blessed thought of all beloved before God! We visited the Villa Mondragone. All ways here are beautiful! The view from the (in the most literal sense) floating terrace of this eagle's nest is as great as it is bold, and encompasses three-quarters of the circle when one begins on the left with the sea. The heights of the Janicwus, the immortal Seven Hills sink down almost unnoticeable. Lightly flyaway the bright blue northern hill distances [p.47] ofViterbo, Radicofani, etc. Soracte swims like a rocky island in the hazy seas of the Campagna. The high ground of the Sabines shines in pure snow. This is the frame of the circle. The Monticelli are decoratively lined up on the right. Close behind them Tibur, shining white, on the edge of the deep mountain cleft. The outline of the Tiburtine hills is most picturesque, and the views into the far-offSabines are magically opened. The greater part of the Algidus, on whose stage we are standing, is overseen by us, with the fullness of its volcanic fruitfwness in oil and wine, and in the sturdy growth of the noblest trees.

The palace of the villa is tremendously large, as though hewn from the rock in the imposing Stilo rustico - desolate and unpoopled! We visited the echoing vawts and chambers in order to see the celebmted colossal bnsts of Antinous and the younger Fanstina; the former is wholly a portmit; admirably executed, so soft, pure, and the marble so [p. 48] warm; neck, ears and hair are most tenderly finished. The so-called Faustina looks like none of her namesakes; least of all like the attractive portmit bust of the fair sinner whom Wieland so paternally defends. Who would want to see that dainty being, these gently blurred, half childish features, in colossal format! But are these eyes antique? These dreadfw Oedipus hollows? Zoega: "Yes! The pupil was a glass insert" (presumably one of those consummate, diamond-bard [specimeus] that one still sees in Portici, and which we can no longer replicate, despite our vaunted chemistry). "The bronze border of the eye is still there; the pupil bas fallen out." The delightful Monte Porcio had signaled to us. And we rode thither, up and down through blossoming elm-hills. What a channing, pleasure-inviting land! Everything close at 13 hand and attainable without trouble. Everything half built-up, half nature, and beautiful for that very reason; for the outstandingly systematic cultivation may delight the statistician; [p. 49] the poet's wings are lowered before the ever-present plow of the harrow [Pflug der Egge], the spade; the painter [drops] brush and pallet from his band! Beneath the elms and the sinking of the hills, ever new views open on the legendary

Campagna, the mother of thoughts! Now nears us Monte Porcio, crowned with the little white town subject (like half of the Campagna) to Prince Borghese. We are in Monte Porcio - it is a miserable dirty nest, however whited up it looks from a distance; there is scarcely a foot's breadth to be found where one can stand and look around without nausea, beset by a begging, ragged, yellow, debilitated populace! Beautiful is the view into a lengthy, charmingly green valley in which lies the village of Collanna. Below us and nearby is the green hill, Monte Corrillo. All these round green hills crown the edge of the Algidus like a string of pearls.. Particularly attractive to me were the sharply [p. 50] delineated distances of the mountain chain above Subiaco, where the landscape painters do not grow tired of drawing, and where a more noble populace, true to the old Sabine name, lives in cooler valleys; where snow adorns the high rocky crags into July; where emerald-green cliff streams precipitate themselves into chestnut groves; where Horace lived - and to which I shall now not attain! April 18. We spent this day very quietly. I was alone in the high Villa Falconieri; all these gardens are lonely and neglected. The economic part, vineyards, olive plantations, frnit trees, meadow and grain land, is cared for and exploited. But the old display places, the once trimmed hedges of laurel- Tams-cypress, shrub-boxwood - these bushes of Laurus Cerasus, Viburnum, the Cytisus varieties, of roses, jasmine, among others - everything is left to itself and to the proliferating life of the plant-world, [p. 51] beneath this heaven, and inexpressibly beautiful! Only in late autumn [sic], before the Villeggiatura, are the paths cleaned up and cleared so that one can walk. A good spirit brought us here at just this moment, the most delightful among all those with which the smiling Hora blesses this land. On the terrace ofthe Villa Falconieri, in front ofthe architectumlly embellished peristyle of the building, stands a primeval group of the most splendid oaks and plane trees that my eye has ever beheld, in full and untouched beauty. Long did I linger here; above me the heaven was gently veiled, but bright sunshine played over the Campagna and lingered over Rome. The popmace here in Frascati is well educated, cheerful and fuendly, in conjunction with great poverty. The children are pretty and full of mischief, the quite young girls charming, the women soon faded! All beg, but without impatience - I waved a whole crowd away. "But you are all begging!" [p. 52] Sil, replied a woman, shrugging her shoulders; slama tutti poveril April 19. On this day our dear fuends Zoega and Giuntotardi surprised the (female) hermit of Frascati. I played the guide of the Tusculan Mountain, and led the dear guests, through the darling Villa Falconieri, to the panoramic terrace ofMondragone, where Zoega pointed out to me a few resting places in the broadly extended field of the past. (I) Between us and the white Zolfatara lies a little lake called the Lago di Pontano; there are the ruins of the town of Gabii, especially those of the temple of Juno, built in the old Etruscan style; (2) there lies the present day Colonna on the site of the ancient Labicum; (3) Grotta Ferrata was without doubt Cicero's favorite villa in the municipality ofTnsculum. The evening of this day was wonderfmly beautiful, and we saw from my neighboring villa the silver-gleaming sea and the warmly misted, 14

distant hills.

[p.53] April 20. The birthday of my first-born; it was twelve years ago that I became a mother - Oh! that I might become ever more worthy of it - and you, beloved first ftuit of my heart, might you bear fruit even as you blossom! The dear (female) mend appeared in grandmotherly fashion with the birthday cake, and Uncle M*n with a Roman twelve (actually Microscope) obelisk of porphyry, concerning which the joy of mother and son was equally great We took the dear ones beneath the oak and plane tree sanctuary of the Villa Falconieri We heard choruses of nightingales, like complaining voices of primeval times, resounding from within the flowery arbor of the acacias and the Cytisus, which displayed all the splendid coloring of spring beneath the mute solemnity of the cypresses and the umbrella of the high pines. Then I led them the delightfuJ way past Mondragone, Monte Porcio, Villa Taverna and Borghese and so home. Here there awaited us, beneath the laurel and oak shadows of the Piccolomini Garden, a [p. 54] festal meal! Flowering and budding wreaths adorned the seats and perfumed the viands and close above us a nightingale sang continuously from the laurel. We were very happy!

April 21. You wanted TnscuJum, and you shall have it entire! Today we rode up to the Camaldolensian cloister, high above the blooming villas; from there the way leads constantly uphill in narrow, stony, deeply sunken convolutions. The tracks were sunken between earth and tuff walls where we, as one-quarter or one-half minemlogists, believed we were discovering layers of volcanic tuff and puzzolana, and also lava and porous metallic-sounding slag.' [p. 55] Lonely, solemn and romantic is the situation of the cloister. It lies high above one ofthose rapidly sunken or broken-out clefts in the mountain, on its upper edge, shaded by a grove of elms, chestuuts and oaks. The view out and downward through the mvine, over the greening, deep-sunken little valley into the Campagna, was enchanting! Clouds and their shadows played their jugglers' game above, now flying away like insubstantial smoke, now forming airy gray islands. Not far away, in front of us, rose the highest rock comb of the Tusculan mountain. The most lovely blossoms dispensed their fragrance here above, especially violets, thyme and Mayran. On the ruined walls we found for the first time the modest Reseda, growing as a free child of nature, and in great quantities.

Afternoon. These abandoned villas are real labyrinths - only the main pathways are hewn out, but one easily penetrates the tendrils of the wild-growing shrubbery, and [p. 56] then finds old ornarnental installations which have again reverted to nature.. Thns I found today in the Villa Falconieri, high above the house and garden, a lonely lagoon, surrounded by high swaying cypresses. - The tops of the noble trees rose from the mirroring flood as from the lap of oblivion. - Everything was empty and solemnly still; only a few forgotten goldfish played unconcernedly in the water.

2To tell the truth, we then did not doubt at all! But since the German Neptunists since then have again put the Italian and Gallic Vulcanists under water, I find it advisable, today on July 18, 1800, to express doubt also. 15

The Alban Lake.

April 22. We drove in a light, open vehicle which combined with its lightness a respectable age, but with this last united also such extreme fmgility that we, returning safely that evening, promised it for its remaining lifetime (as far as depended on us) the dolce far niente in the carriage house. The morning was fine, also for Italy. On the hedges, the large-flowering, yellowish-red honeysuckle wavered in luxuriant garlands. The little feathered pink breathed sweet odors; we [p. 57] came by way of Grotta Ferrata to Marino! I shall never forget the entry into the wood of Marino, however much that is unforgettable I have seen and felt on this day! It had, the night before, turned green in a mild rain, the loveliest of sylvan glades! Ah! You know, you still feel this first enchanting moment of unfolding which nature confers on the plant world every spring - Ah! And confers but once on us poor humans! Ah! Which never appears to many a son of men and many a daughter of earth - for how many sink into the gmve, unloved, with tightly closed, withered bud of unopened life! But back to the beckoning present! The slender chestnuts and plane trees proudly uphold on their smooth trunks the delicately unfolding, brightly shining leafage, and form themselves above the lower hazelnut trees (though these are the tallest I have ever seen) into high-woven arches. Chestnuts, walnuts, oaks and elms are growing green together, and the darkly shining ivy extends its strong, [p.58] tightly embmcing arms up into the leaf'y crowns of the slender white oaks, hanging down from the outermost branches in long festoons and fluttering threads.

"Oh, Nature, how you reign beneath the southern sky!" By one of these trees we were completely deceived; we saw an oaken trunk, and high above on the branches a completely unfamiliar foliage! The ivy had climbed up on the side of this splendid tree that was turned away from us; had strangled it with its tough, net1ike tendrils, and now was triumphantly prolifemting on all the strongest branches and twigs ofthe tree, cloaking it to the fingertips in its deceptive gannent. The situation of the little Marino is indescribably charming; grouped around a freshly wooded cleft in the hill, it looks down into the green wilderness through which a little wood stream fonnerly murmured. Ah! Why, and by what means, was the fair ftightened away?

On leaving the Tempe of these groves, one finds oneself on a high ridge [p. 59] where on the right the gaze sinks over the waving gmin- and meadowland deep into the Campagna. Fresh and lively sea breezes blow against us; the sea with its deep blue encompasses the greening earth, and we distinguish the rolling billows of the shore; and yet five miles lie between us and the sea! On the left hand rests the Alban lake, protected by its high banks, a deeply sunken cloud- mirror. The funnel-shaped cliffs rise termce-like, each one wider, and reveal the alternating strata of rock and volcanic earth. Each level bears frnitful soil, planted on the sunny side with wine and ftuit trees. The ground rumbles hollowly beneath the rolling wheels. By the sound and sensation it was like driving over an underground vawt.

Castel Gandolfo. On this airy ridge lies the high mountain palace of the Pope; fair is its situation, and even fairer that of the nearby Villa Chigi. [p. 60] From the Cathedral square in the little village, the view over the lake between its abruptly sunken banks is most striking. I followed a little elm 16 shadowed footway behind the walls of Castel Gandolfo, from where one sees clearly over the lake's depression to Tivoli and Monticelli, while in the background proudly rises the high snow- covered Gennaro, the giant of the Sabines. Above the bank on the other side hangs, between mountain and lake on a narrow sliver of earth, white Pallazzuola, occupying the site of the very ancient Alba Longa; immediately above the wood-covered skull of the venerable Alban is enthroned the mother of Rome; to the right, downward on the mountain peak, appears Fajolo, then Albano charmingly embowered. Between the two stood the dreadfuJ Ferentine grove; on the left, Rocco di Papa hangs down the whitish cliffs, looking from all directions like ajackdaw's nest on a ruin. This view is arranged by nature for a great, capably imitative painting, and I am so [p. 61 J fortunate as to possess a worthy copy from the hand of the excellent painter Schmidt of Bayreuth.

The Nymphs' Grottos.

Too weak for walking in the heat, I entrusted myself to the sure steps of a patient long ear (donkey), who brought me uninjured down the steep and narrow path, on the funnel-shaped hollowed-out bank, between layers of tuff and puzzolana. Here nature reigns freely in the inner, northern bend of the rising cliffs, and pours all the charms of spring from an overflowing horn of blessings! Between blooming acacias; Cytisus, rose and whitethorn bushes, beneath shadowy vaults of the same, swaying above the flowery abyss, I gradually climbed down the ancient crater! Nightingales sang above me, and the great, dazzling white lily-iris bloomed unsullied among crowds of proliferating Cicuta and asphodel, flowers of Orcus which [p. 62] bloom in memory here on the edge of the extinguished mouth of . After a half-hour of continuons descent, we stood on the narrow shore, between the high cliffs and the waves. Soon there open small meadows and fields, a flat built-on foreland (ein f/ach angebildetes Vorland); above it, a cliffside rises steeply, the old bank of the lake; this is underpinned by masonry fonndations, covered in part with bricks, in part with splendid, wellhewn stone blocks which looked to us like marble. Dark shrubbery grows downward from the rock-edge; ivy thickly carpets the white wall-ftagrnents. Here stood the great Villa ofDomitian - here in the lap of the gentlest, most beneficent nature, this monster lived his life of horror, designing death and betrayal for all noble and good people of Rome- the deeply sunken ruler of the world, who now trembled herself beneath the scourge of a cowardly tyrant. Two well-preserved grottos were visible here below. On the rocks above there are probably ruins, as on the Palatine; these [p. 63] however were so-called Nymphea, or baths dedicated to the nymphs of the Alban lake. The first is very similar to the Grotto of Egeria, on the Elmo, with small niches for bathtubs or statues on the sides, and a larger hall below. Here, too, the sweet Adianthum enwreaths the masonry; here, too, the water trickles down from the plumbing installations, now blocked by debris, and colors the stonework with a lovely hyacinth shade; above the nicely rounded opening of the hall, dark ivy falls like a rich carpet. Two mighty plane trees stand at the entrance of the hollow, spreading gentle dusk, and from the soft dark-light one looks upward into pure daylight and downward into the depths of the lake.

The second grotto is larger. Here there are two large niches in the depths; on the sides are smaller ones, perhaps for statues. On the left side is a hollow, apparently for a bath, since the opening to the main water-pipes is still visible. Everywhere [p. 64] still visible are marble stucco and complete net-shaped walls. I would gness that the largest grotto is about 40 feet deep, 20 feet wide and 30 feet high. Between the two grottoes and on both sides, the foundations extend for a long distance at the foot of the cliffs. 17

Emissary ofthe Alban Lake.

This venerable monument from Rome's best period has become a sacred relic through nature's local dominance, and the impression it makes is unique. We followed a little path close by the bank of the lake, often wetted by the gentle waves. Elms and alders shadow it with bright green. We soon found ourselves by a high quadmngular wall- a little harbor, sheltered by fine oaks, marks the outlet of the lake. Forget-me-not (finer, larger and more blue than I had ever seen), periwinkle, cyclame~ red and white clover, and climbing vetch bloom [p.65] in the high grass; lotus and acacia shine with golden clusters out of deep shadow. A little gate is opened, one descends a single step, and is received by high, very old walls built of powerful blocks of tuff and travertine, much like the venemble remains of the Cloaca Maxima at the well of Juturna. In the depths of the longish quadrangle is a broad archway (Halle) through which rushes the outgoing stream; one can follow it with the eye for some distance beneath the broken cliffs! Little candles stuck on a small shelf essayed to light the Acherontian vault, but soon disappeared in deep night, like the light of the antiquarians, on the dark time-stream of the primeval world! Outside, the waves of the lake whispered gently in and out through the opening of the channel; high on the edge ofthe firm wall, an oak tree has taken root and grown to gigantic size. The powerful trunk soon divides into two giant arms, which, [p. 66] full and luxuriantly green, not only cover the entire wall space but curve through the upper air to spread a holy shade all round.

Within is gentle shadow, and the deep blue of the aether penetrates only through quivering leaves. Outside, the nightingale calls from the blooming shrubbery. Ah! This working of nature above the ruins - this mother-faithfulness, enwreathing the sinking outcast with beauty and grace - these dreams of primeval times, pressed round by deeds, in this souJ-cmdling twilight stillness! One shudder after another ran through me - cautiously I returned to the light of day, where Ausonian air and bloorus and gentle sunshine received me like a fugitive from a ghostly chamber. With a full heart I thought of the noble Stollberg, whom I had followed hither, with his book in my hand - and this, after the laurel grotto of Pliny's villa, is the holiest shrine of memory - Ah! visited without you, dear ones - [p.67] and yet, loved clover-leaf, experienced with you!

I rode on a very rough path up the kettle-shaped banks. Here bloomed more abundantly in the shadow, amongst the asphodels and the Circuta, in its unspotted silver-white, the Psyche among flowers, the lovely lily-scented Iris, like spotless innocence just beneath the poisoned breath of vice. I recalled how in the , brings the souls of the suitors (Freyer) to dark asphodel meadows of Hades. Regaining the heights, the pathway brings us most delightfully through the beautiful Barberini Gardens. From the top of the hill, one looks down on the enchantingly lovely slopes where the villas of the Romans lie scattered under dark groups of oaks and cypresses. Monte Savello and the green Bosco Doria lay beneath us. We followed with our eyes the emissary of the Alban lake as it advances through a break in the cliff-hills, throngh the Campagna [p. 68] to its junction with the Tiber, and thence as far as Fiumicino and the sea, where we overlooked the harbors of Nett uno and Anzio. 18

For lunch we remained in Albano, where in lieu of any refreslunent they offered us spoiled fishes. We drank mild Alban [wine], and ate bread. Albano is large, empty, deserted, decorated with neglected palaces and villas. Only the inhospitable (menschenverdrangend) show- places have remained over from Rome's Augustan century. Then they swarmed with slaves, now half-naked troops of beggars howl around them. After Innch (for a Siesta was impossible, despite extreme fatigue, on account of insects) we visited the so-called Tomb ofthe Horatians, a few hundred paces behind Albano on the way to Larricia (Aricia). For my eyes and taste, its form is most disagreeable; it is also enigmatic, so that I could not guess how it might formerly have looked - only that it cannot have been beautifw or dignified. It seemed to have more the stamp [p. 69] of late barbarian times than that of high antiquity, or of such a fine period of art as that ofPompejus (Pompey). But varions people believe it to be a monument dedicated to Pompey the Great by his wife, and to have consisted of five pointed towers (Spitzthiirmen) on a quadrangular base - symbols of his consulates and victories. The so-called Tomb of Ascanius, a picturesquely overgrown heap of ruins between Albano and Castel Gandolfo, is an unsolved mystery in the field of the ancient world.

The return journey in twilight and dusk, like the whole day, was most lovely; I was strangely affected in the quiet hour by the resonance of the ground, hollowed out by the volcanoes; especially in the majestic alley between Albano and Castel Gandolfo, and in the moonlit grove of Marino. When we had reached my dwelling, here too the fwl moon gmdually emerged from the hills, first slowly illuminating the olive summit, encircling it with a silver [p.70] border, then suddenly stepped upon the floating summit and poured a gentle daylight into the deeply darkened valley. I was healthy today, and did not pay for my joy by any bodily suffering! This gave me a thankful sense of well-being, which this heavenly evening heightened to sweetest melancholy.

April 24.

This day I rode through the Villa Aldovrnndini, first to the Belvedere beneath the far seen cypresses, where the prospect is splendid and the view far over Rome and the Campagna extends to the northern Apennines. In the west sparkles the sea; beneath me rest, with all the details of noble buildings and under charming groups of trees, the swelling grain, wine and meadow-hills, bedecked with pines, cypresses, oaks and plane-tree groves, and decoratively laid out in the broad amphitheater. This Alban hill is a uniquely beautiful dwelling-place, [p.71] which I, for the long run, would greatly prefer to Tivoli! for the plant life is finer and stronger here, and one has more space on these airy summits. But I wowd like to build myself a hennitage above the clefts of the Annio. How noble here is the view downward to the bold Villa Mont' Alto, on the green groves of Grotta Ferrata and Marino, the high path at the Alban lake, whose funnel-edge one sees, but not the depths which rest below the line of sight; an episode sunk into the painting. Once again I ventured from this side to the pugnacious Tusculan hilltop, and again was greeted by the cutting northwest wind, which sends up smoke clouds from the hollow summit of Monte Cavo. We found three consecutive platforms at the mountain summit, borne by powerful foundations, all covered with debris among single supporting ruins (unter einzeln auftragenden Triimmern); here and there one can still look down into the suhtermnean vaulted chambers, where we [p. 72] made out much Opus reticulatum. The small amphitheater, which inclines 19 from the high hill toward the deep Campagna, still presents the intact form of its encirclement by suspended walls - Here sat Cato the Censor! Today the last-plowed arena will be sowed before the coming rain.

April 27.

The rain came, with cold and storm, with hail and sleet! My one fireplace smokes, all windows and doors have cracks. The draft is intolemble. - After remaining in bed two days because of the cold, I became really ill - and drove back to Rome; where they all laughed at me. In their valley, they had known nothing of storm, cold and rain - and bad only suspected the mountain storm because Monte Cavo and Frascati, veiled in mist and clouds, had been invisible to them for three days. ROMAN DIARY, II 20

BRUN95L [p.73] III. CONCLUSION OF OUR STAY IN ROME aDd JOURNEY TO MONTE CA VO BY WAY OF VILLETRI(Velletri) AND TERRACINA.

[p.75] May 2.

Up to now an indisposition has kept me in the house, where the charming circle of my Roman friends has allowed me to lack neither for cheering up nor for instructive discourse. This never sinking, exhaustless and not too exhansting thought and conversational matter is one of the strongest attractions of a stay in Rome. I know of course that the original thinker finds this everywhere, but I do believe that many people of both sexes, who, in our flat and uneventfuJ fields (for the unquiet activity of barbarous nations leads only to desolation), [p. 76] shrink from the thought of a conversation demanding some mental exertion, would [yet] find themselves awakened here.

Palazzo Colonna.

There the mends brought me today; but of what help are thoughtful and feeling guides, and the most splendid pictures and statues, when the air is warm water, and the sacred Seven Hills, shrouded in the dismal breath of the Skirokko, are wrapped in mist and mourn in sackcloth and ashes?

I extract for you, as usual, only what specially touched my inner feelings.

(I) Madonna of Raphael, in his second manner; a gracious, virginal and selfconcentrated (in sich geschmiegtes) personality. These young Madonnas of the young Raphael have something of the gentle modesty and quietude of young Momvians (Herrnhuterinnen).

(2) Large picture by Raphael in his first manner, i.e., painted before his eighteenth year. The Madonna with the Child and Johannes (Raphael's darling!), two [p.77] holy women, and four holy men make up this wonderfully beautiful painting, which unites holy innocence of unspotted feeling, quiet inwardness, in short all of the euphony of the heavenly Raphael's youthful works, such as is experienced only by feeling souls. The tints are somewhat weak, but always true; it is as though he had not yet been able to make up his mind to embody fully the tender creatures of his fantasy and bring them into the common world of the senses.

(3) The fairest ofMagdaleus, by Guido.

(4) Diana with the Nymphs; a lovely youthfuJ scene full of ftesh attmction, by Claude ROMAN DIARY, II 21

Lorrain, in his first manner.

(5) A Venus, by Paolo Veronese. The most accomplished that J know on canvas; for it really breathes life and love. It is the Venus of the Famesina - who pursues poor Psyche right into the kingdom of shadows.

(6) A heavenly landscape by Claude. [p. 78] (7) The noblest of all landscapes of the great Poussin. A monntainons distance, boldly shown in an eagle's flight beyond the bounds of normal vision, full of truth, strength, fantasy and simplicity.

(8) A Scourging, by Correggio. Only the Christ is splendidly beautiful. He strides vigorously forth out of the brown of the time-darkened shadows - a divine Sufferer. One is very glad to ignore the rabble surrounding him.

(9) A Holy Family by Andrea del Sarto; an ineJl.-pressibly harmonious picture, as much through the quiet togetherness of the figures as through the lovely color tonality.

(10) The Bean-Eater; a most humorous farce by the great Annibale [Carracci). The plump horse-beans, the shining bacon, the glittering wide-bellied bottle - everything boasts, shines, glitters doubly as reflected from the happy face of the greedy peasant. M** [Matthisson?] acknowledges himself, since glimpsing this picture, as one of the cynical sect. He, the silent [p. 79] Pythagorean! Thus does genius work after centuries, even through painted horse-beans!

(II) Diana Colonna. Marble statue. This divine art work is fully preserved, even to the toes of the left foot. It is the absolute norm ofa Diana. She is wandering; a cool breeze, heightened by her quick, light movement, blows her garment back, presses it against her lap, and reveals the noble outlines of the chaste limbs: "Her gait is haste, her look in the distance." It is the archetype of need-free, pure and proud femininity.

(12) Homer's Apotheosis. This old and celebrated bas-relief contains a noble sequence of bold, touching and esthetically valid ideas.

The Colonna Garden lies on the slope ofthe Quirinal. We stood at last beneath the umbrella of the Roman queen of fir trees, which thoughtfully shelters the gigantic ruins of a vanished monument. Two stone blocks of white marble from the meze of a [p. 80] Temple of the Sun (attributed to Aurelian) lie here. But where are the remaining fragments of this colossal building? Has the earth swallowed it? May 3.

We spent the morning in St. Peter's and viewed the Sacristy, the adjacent buildings, and ROMAN DIARY, II 22 the Campo Santo. In the Sacristy I found some outstandingly beautiful paintings.

(l) A Madonna of the old Florentine Giotti () - a grandeur and purity of forms approaching the ideal of the antique characterizes the fignres of this worthy father of the older painting, with whom I hope to become better acquainted on my return to Florence.

(2) An Entombment, by Fattore Penni, which nnites all the color melody, all the tender inward sensibility of this gracious artist, who was not in vain the pupil of Raphael.

[p. 81] (3) A Madonna of my dear, true, pious Pietro Perugino.

In the afternoon we drove to [Santa] Croce di Gierusalemme, where there was a big festival day, and the Corso. Lovely was the view, under green trees and over the brightly flowering meadows, of the jubilant throng and the numerous vehicles; and touching was the contrast of the widely dispersed ruins of aqueducts, baths and city walls. How this sinking past embraced the teeming present! High at both ends, on the summits of the Lateran and the Croce di Gierusalemme, triumphed the elevated Cross!

May 5 and 6.

Now my last hours in Rome belong exclusively to friendship, so near to separation! How painful this separation is becoming -- how every togetherness binds your dear ones closer! We smile at the sweet pain! But we deeply feel the wonnd! rn the evening we still saw together the sun sinking over Rome [p. 82] from the roof of the Maltese Priory - from mist it sank red and heavy into thicker mists. - Poor Rome! A picture of your fate! When will a cheerful life- sun of reason illuminate these happy fields? When will the moral scirocco, which presses upon your spiritual horizon, have blown away, and, with it, all the togs of superstition, priestly tyranny and nepotism have dispersed?

May 7.

On this day we drove together to Grotta Ferrata, to take leave of oUT dear invalid. The sunken valley before Grotta Ferrata seemed to us quite clearly like a sunken cmter from the old Avernian lake converted into ftuitfulland. We found Julien more suffering than ever! A late return - Luise evades me rentsch/up}! mir] in the darkness - Ah! We are separated!

[p.83] May 8.

Early morning. I am returning from the Villa Medici; there, under the laurels, I took leave of the beloved brother - there we felt the blessed melancholy of united sows; the separation of the present together with the bold glance into the future, which can only unite our better selves. 2 ROMAN DIARY, II 3

[Departure from Rome for Albano.1 May 8.

The little cabriolet stands before the door. Our dear, true zoega accompanies me as far as Albano. - Ah! It wouJd have been too hard to sepamte entirely from Rome and the fuends at the same time! Deeply moved and half dreaming at the mend's side, I drove past the picturesque groups of ruins which lie to the left, a few miles from Rome and downward from the Via Appia, and bear the name of Roma vecchia d'Albano. Soon we see the other side [P.84] of the splendid Claudian Aqueduct. On both sides, the gmve-ruins of the Via Appia rise from wine and vegetable gardens, often romantically overshadowed by laurels and pines, and overgrown with ivy. Handsome tomb of Cecilia [Metella]! Receive my greeting for the mends! The so-called tombs of ABcanius and Aeneas already date from Rome's luxurious periods, when marble facings had supplanted the blocks of hewn stone.

Now there opens from the rising hill country a great backward view over the Campagna and Sabina's mountain chain. We spent the day in Albano, where our fuend Fernow joined us. In the afternoon we wandered over Laricia and by the deeply sunken lake ofNemi. I couJd only receive the deeply shadowed, wooded lake in my imagination as a lightly floating apparition. Ah! I was too weak, too reduced by the sepamtioll, and unable to follow this lovely [p. 85] descent through the green labyrinth of overhanging trees, where the deceptive flock of goats grazes in the fragrant thyme, and the blue forget-me-nots vibrate above the wooded spring- where here the dark, shadowy grove appears to sink in the dark, clear water, while over there in the afternoon light the picture of the bank arises from the lake's deep bosom. Opposite ns, the picturesque Nemi hangs down from its white tuff cliff, surrounded by wild shrubbery.

We spent a sociable evening in the empty and deserted inn, where no nourishment was available except artichokes roasted in lamp oil- not even eggs.

May 9.

Albano. Ah! Today Zoega also left us. Fernowalone remained our faithful guide to Alba-Longa, and on the heights of Jupiter Latialis.

The road from Albano to Pallazzuola, around the upper curve of the Alban lake, [p. 86] is of surpassing beauty. The most luxuriant plant life embellishes these primeval shores, sanctified by the most holy legends, these groves of remote antiquity! The seemingly far-off Pallazzuola transformed itself beneath our gaze into the very ancient Alba-Longa; and the Aeneid rose on swans' wings from the deeply sunken floods as from the lap of the past! ROMAN DIARY, II 24

As we rode along the sickle-shaped slope, there opened to us the most delightful views over the funnel-like banks of the lake - afar off in the open distances of the Campagna, or back to Albano and Castel Gandolfo's picturesque situation. - Around us the loveliest flowers bloomed in fwlness and fragrance in the grass and on the bushes, and your flower-loving friend had difficwty in keeping to her she-ass - forgetting past and future, and Alba-Longa and Via triumphalis, and throwing herself down, wreathing head and bosom and crying out,

[p.87] In speedy flight the joy embrace, gently Touch only with the mouth, as the bee Touches the nectar flowers, oh friend, transport us Among the gods!

For Genista, Spartium, Cytisus-blooms hung down in bunches, clusters and wreaths! Vetch and lupines embraced the alders with their tendrils. Adorning and perfuming the high grass were anemones, violets, narcissus, cyclamen, orchids, Sinngrtin, forget-me-nots, speedwell and buttercups, with such a mingling of colors and in a profusion as though this were Florn's own garden.

After an hour and a half we arrived by way of the cool grove at the first cloister, on the girdle of the old Alban lake and prnctically hanging over the waves, so that on1y a narrow path separates it from the wooded but steeply descending bank.

Never have the situation of a dwelling place, and its view, attracted me so much as the one that opens from the windows ofthe refectory.

[p. 88] Held captive by the deep and darksome loneliness of the wooded mountainside- separated from all the world by the deeply sunken flood of the unfathomable lake - one looks away past the open abyss into smiling distances, which, seen thus from the deep shadows of a cloister-like stillness, are more like the picture of an inner fantasy than any reality.

From Pallazzuola one climbs directly into the solemn mountain forests which green1y clothe the showders of the old Alban [Mount] - We wandered, not without a reverent shudder, through the centuries-old chestuut and oak groves! We crossed the so-called Camp ofHannihal; a fine, wood-wreathed mountain meadow, which rests quietly sunk between the mountain's two summits - an Alpine meadow between chestnut woods, and sown with the loveliest narcissi, breathing their sweet perfume through the high loneliness.

From here we bore to the right on a steep pathway paved with squared stones; were here and there cut into the field-stones, [p. 89] often still readable, others half effaced - This was the Via consularis before, and Ovationis after the campaigns. The numbers probably indicated the placement of the legions. - I dismounted respectfully, and experienced the last height! Now we had reached the summit of the mountain, where benches and tables have been made from the stone blocks ofthe ruins of the Temple ofthe Alliance God (des ROMAN DIARY, II 25

Bundesgottes). One still sees the periphery of the temple building, and everywhere hewn stone blocks. Alone, 1 soon turned back to the highest sanctuary. - A handsome and easily climbable beech tree had grown out of the ruins of the temple; here I seated myself, and thus suspended between heaven and earth, between antiquity and the present, I surrendered my whole being to the stream of thoughts that flooded over me.

Here, speech is mute, where great and beautiful nature - the remembrance of the fullness of the eventful streams of time, all of which, so to speak, have poured themselves into this Campagna spread out beneath me [p. 90] as in a consecrnted sea - struggles with prehistoric times for the enjoyment of the present!

And yet how beautiful, how touching is this stillness of the old volcano, which had already been long extinct when young, fire-breathing Rome was first arising!

Here, from the summit of Monte Cavo, one overlooks five very probable crnters ofthe old extinct fire-source, which, in size and scope, far exceeded Vesuvius, but whose influence we can only infer from its scale.

The real summit crater - like the Atrio del Cavallo on Vesuvius - was without doubt the Campo d' Annibale; followed, as second and third, by 100 two volcanic lakes of Albano and Nemi, which, seen from here in their deep depression, are embedded like twin episodes in the rich epic of Nature's poetry. Then, fourth and fifth, came the two small oval valleys ofLaricia, and the freshly green-clad Val Grotta. [p. 91] On the other side, the view into rising Latium, and into the secrets of the Sabine chain, is extremely attractive. Everything here is new for the person leaving the Campagna. Everything wild, freshly green, and shaded by splendid woods.

We had made an early start, and reached Albano again about 2 P.M. After a brief rest, we left Rome [i.e., Roman territory] (actually for the first time) and arrived at Velletri rather late in the evening.

If you consider all that I had accomplished today, from Albano through Pallazzuola, up and down Monte Cavo, in no small heat, you may believe that I was dead tired, and (since in Albano, as in Spain, the inn offers only the four walls and sacks of straw) plentifuJly hungry. But I was still a long way from satisfYing these two imperious needs of nature. In Velletri, the capital of the ancient Volscians, lives the brother of that noble mend of Danes, the Cardinal [p. 92] Borgia. Here is the family home of this race, and the world-famous cabinet of Egyptian antiquities. I wished, tired as I was, while they were preparing dinner, to pay my respects to the Borgia family, and was politely received. - But, oh terror! - the first word was, "I was presumably curious to see the cabinet?" I excused myself by pleading my extreme futigue, my complete ignorance of Egyptian art history, and, finally, my hearty dislike ofthe Egyptian work of art! ROMAN DIARY, II 26

All in vain! I was obliged to spend two deadly long hours in front of the cases with all these treasures, and to examine everything, from the rudest lumps of basalt and granite (which the childish wouJd certainly never have brought in to Saturn), all the rectilinear Isis idols, all the broad-breasted Sphinxes, and all the absurd dogs' snouts! I sank down several times on a chair, completely incapable of standing on my feet - I asked for a glass of lemonade to refresh myself, [p. 93] since my tongue really clove to the roof of my mouth - in vain! The inhuman, zealous attendance was without eyes and ears, and it was only after ten o'clock that I was released - when, unfed, for I had been overhungry, and sleepless, for I was overtired, I spent the night in a fever of exhaustion, cursing all Egyptian antiquities from the bottom of my heart!

MayJO.

Today, in the most splendid weather, we flew through the Pontine Marshes -- in ten hours. It had rained during the night, and a fresh wind drove all the mists and fogs ahead of us. At Triponte (the Tres Taberna of the Acts of the Apostles), it is especially disagreeabJe, for the water there stands at its highest, and overflows the canals; but a few drops of oil of vitriol in a glass of water that we had brought with us banished the sleepiness besetting both me and the children.

We were soon aroused by the view of the fabled [p. 94] Cap Circello, which, like a rocky island ahead of us on the right, steps from the swampy flatland into the sea. To the left, the steep line of hills, which already at Velletri bordered the horizontal plain - and from where the ruins of Cora can be descried from the inn windows with even the smallest glass - bends down to the marshy meadows; and now there appear before us fantastically formed cliff-tops under reddish sunshine; a fresh and strengthening breeze blows toward us, and half-hanished mists add sweet presentiments to our strengthened feelings! Terracina-the Anxur of the V olscians - appears, surrounded by the murmur of the waves, scented by Hesperian groves, beneath the majestic guard of the steep cliffs!

I hastened into the small boat - Ah! How well we all felt on our home element, which we now glimpsed in southern beauty! Never had waves rocked me so gently! So clear and in such rosy mildness had I never seen the firmament - never the new moon's dewy smile!

[p. 95] Here the Circean Rock, already in early shadow - there the Formian Hills in the peach-mist of Hesperian distances!

There the rosy veil sinks down from the Pontine Islands (!entsinket den Ponzischen lnseln), and the fair nymphs appear in the evening light.

For a long, long time we rocked on the mirroring floods - and on the balcony of the house, I gently dreamed myself from the lovely reality into the arms of sleep. ROMAN DIARY, II 27

BRUN95M [p. 97] IV.

TRIP FROM FOND! TO NAPLES.

Fondi, May 11, 1796.

[p. 99] So Rome, too, lies behind me! I left quiet Rome with heartfelt sorrow. How it had come to be my home! Rome, Albano, Frascati and Tibur, snnunits of the holy monntain, farewell! Dear brother, and you, dear sister, we are now again going each his own way; will they one day bring ns together at the goal?

The pure sea air of Terracina had strengthened me, and it was on a fine morning that we reached Fondi. Here in the channing valley one sees that negligent cultivation of the land which makes of these orange groves, these swaying grape arbors, an [p. 100] Elysium created by gods. This valley floor is flat, and the stiff, hard cliffs of the Apennines sink the mild airs of this homeland deep in her bosom; but these airs are oppressive and unhealthy, and it was only on the height ofthe mountain, between Fondi and Itri, that I could breathe freely.

Here Hesperian ftuitfulness swells beyond any measure hitherto known to me! How this field, there around the so-called Tower of Cicero, beckons in its cool shadows! There where figs, olives and wine ripen above wheat, lupines and glowing Prnto (an ear-shaped clover), and shelter the tender plant life from the mighty arrows of the southern sun.

We reached Mola ill Gaeta in severe heat. The inn is good, and the proximity of the sea refreshes me with an invigorating air bath.

Here there is much swarming of ships' folk, and the Neapolitan petulance (petulanz) is already apparent in gesture, speech and tone, in contrast to the Roman seriousness.

[p. 101] We were entertained with excellent fish, sea-crabs, etc., and after the siesta were happy to take our places in a little boat. How heautiful is this Bay of Cajeta! We rowed past the foundations of the Formian hills, to the right of Moia, in a delightfw crescent; in the clear water we cowd descry complete walls, pillars, arches of the Roman villas. Ah! Here where Cicero and Pliny wandered, we floated lightly on the floods!

This amphitheater-like sequence of the Formian hills, borne upward from antique terrace walls to airy gardens, extends from Castiglione down to the crescent of the beautiful shore line, encircling the banks as far as the projecting hill of the fortress Gaeta (the ancient Cajeta). We landed at the ruins of the so-called Villa of Cicero. Sections of old walls, like the piers of a bridge, placed at regular intervals and overgrown with seaweed, raised themselves half out of the water and formed a protective barrier in front of the shoreline. [p. 102] I climbed up the gentle slope, and here for the first time saw the fruitfwness of the mountainous and lakeshore ROMAN DIARY, II 28 terrain around Locaruo actually exceeded. Truly, I wandered now in Hesperian groves! Above me, lemons, omnges, lemon-peel trees (Cedratbiiume) shaded me, and reached down to me from darkly gleaming foliage a luxuriant plenitude of golden apples with the scent of everblooming spring.

Ah! this reality of what the soul had only seen in rose-colored dream-pictures, can one take hold of it? I surrendered myself, more floating in the fragrance than walking, to childish delight! Slender fig trees, mwberries and elms, enwreathed in vine tendrils, maintain themselves gently in the air. Pear trees shower the snow of their northern, perishable blossoms. Pear, cherry and apricot trees are full of young ftuits, and the tender pomegmnate shows its radiant flower in half-opened buds. Beneath these pamdisiacal shadows I wander over gently swelling clover. Cool sea breezes murmur [p. 103] gently in the treetops, a shower of blossoms trickles down upon the purple carpet of the Prato, and the golden apples fall heavily into the thick grass.

But these fruits cowd not be enjoyed by us; perhaps the spring Agrumi (oranges, lemons, pomegranates [p.meranzen), candied lemon-peel [Cedrate]), children of the southern winter, are less good. The oranges were spongy, the lemons tart without acidity. Also, the wine pressed from these vineyards under the name of Ktikuber wine was undrinkably sour.

But how these sea airs strengthen me! A sea voyage, like the ancients, along the Greek coasts wowd surely be the healthiest cure for me!

We rowed back in the sweetest twilight, and I lingered for a long time on the balcony of the honse, which is separated from the sea only by a narrow pathway. Gentle waves rolled sociably against the shore. Moon and stars sank into the sea, and again came forward with broken radiance. [p. 104] Farther off, the lights of Cajeta twinkled from the round hills.

Mola di Gaeta, May 12.

How cheerfwly and early I awoke on these sun and sea shores. We were soon under way; but the heat with ns! I lingered for a short time, favored by a train of clouds, at the rnins of Minturnii. Most recognizable are the pillars of an aqueduct and the arches (Hallen) of an amphitheater, made green by a blooming grove of little pomegranate trees.

We crossed the quiet, deep-flowing Liris (Garigliano), and soon entered a lovely grove where, beneath tender green oaks, breathed a lovely boscage of young myrtle. Lower down bloomed the beautifw Cistus with the sage leaves and the white rose blossom; next to it, a little brother with yellow flowers, everything shining with spring beauty! In the gardens, the grapevine swings selectively this way and that, nniting with its tender shoots the olive tree of [p. 105] wisdom and the fig tree of enjoyment! A high, sweet picture of symbolic nature! Plutarch and Marius were not forgotten by Karl and me. But we did not approach the seacoast, where the great refugee hid in the swampy reeds. 2 ROMAN DIARY, II 9

Capua.' All wings of thought were lamed by the heat, which is dreadful to the extent that we leave the sea. The town, situated in a sterile plain, lazily encircled by the Volturnus, struck me as anything but seductive. The tavern was of the kind described by , and offered no trustworthy resting place. But we were soon refreshed by an abundance of the sweetest oranges, freshly picked and scented, and a most lovely and strengthening red wine (the present-day Falernian, which grows two miles from the new Capua, near the ruins of the old queen of Campania) testified to the mild climate of the blessed land.

In the rnther gentle midday illumination, we rejoiced over the lightly aligned (p. 106] mountain distances encircling the Campanian plain. Earlier in the morning we had caught sight of Vesuvius, cloaked in veiling mists like an apparition, and then lost it completely. The vaporous area {Dunstkreis} of Naples begins already aronndAversa (the AteUa of the ancients, where Augustus was brought up) with thronging conveyances, dusty fields, anxions cultivation, which excludes every trace of nature, and now transforms the Campagna Felice into the Terra di Lavoro. The high coastal mountains of the bay are hidden behind endless boulevards of high elms, interspersed with gmpevine garlands covered with white dust like old theatrical decorations. Lying about like dice are little quadranguJar houses (these little country houses in the Neapolitan region always reminded me of children's houses of cards) with flat roofs or, as it often seemed to us, without any roofs at all.

The anthill swarming increases with every minute, the choking dust with every second! I noticed fewer handsome and noble features than with the Roman popwace, but more cheerfwness; (p. 107] we are in Naples without knowing it! This city is endless! We are buried in the house-valley of the Corso, flooded all round by streams of people and vehicles, and breathing and seeing becomes more difficult for me at every moment; for the fine lava-plasterdust penetrates and benumbs all the senses. Suddenly: MoloJ Harbor! Bay! Vesuvius! Brilliancy and beauty! I regain my senses at the seaside - leaving these floods of humanity behind the Castel del Uovo - in the most excellent public-house of the Chiaio, called alle Crocelli.

The first evening hour on the balcony facing the Neapolitan Bay is unforgettable to me! There lies the resting lion [Vesuvius], recognizable only from his ashen head and wide-open maw, from which no steamy sign of life emerges. That jagged sea monster, which stretches its gigantic body out of greenish waves, is Capri. On the right, Posillipo's daintily curving coast extends itself around the bay and shimmers, a bright green spring garden, ftom its gently sloping back [p. 108] down into the sea. In friendly rolling and surging, the sea draws itself onto the shining coasts!

1 feel as though night could never come, on these sunny shores - yet the sun does soon sink behind Posillipo, and a long-lasting, lovely dusk floats between sea and sky, slowly

3The text from here on consists mainly of very long paragraphs, which are broken up for the reader's convenience. (Translator's note.) ROMAN DIARY, II 30 cloaking Capri and the far-off foothills of the Minerva in rosy fragrance. A swarm of fishing boats glides out from the tuff shores ofPosillipo, and the lava foundations of the Ca.~tel del Uovo before my window. As the dusk deepens, there shines out from each vessel a brightly flaming torch of resinous wood; gliding slowly along, they draw a long pillar of fire behind them on the trembling flood.

I stood lost in contemplation of this magic spectacle; then suddenly there sounded a

familiar voice ~ Plotz stands next to me, the Danish painter! PlOtz, whom I last saw in Bonnet's room on Genthod on the Lake of Geneva. Robbed (beraubt) by Frankish pirntes, [p. t 09] he was stranded here, where good people received him in fuendly wise, and he is now traveling to . Bonnet's Temple of Wisdom had become his home; and since that worthy old man has gone to the better Fatherland, the poor fellow has been orphaned.

Naples, May 13.

I awoke cheerful and early, and feasted my heart on the dazzling splendor of the sea and its lively movement ~ The monstrous tumwt of the city was still bound in sleep. Land people, who were bringing ftu.it, milk, vegetables into the city on their trusty long-ears [donkeys]; returning fishermen, ordering their early catch; and a few city folk who felt the beauty of the morning were in movement. Charlotte and I drove early to the Grotto ofPosillipo, which my imagination had formed quite differently. It seemed to me only the gigantic gateway from

Pozzuoli to Naples; no restthere! The constant passage of donkeys, oxen, [p. 110] pigs ~ dust, animals' and drivers' cries, deafened me ~ and only the length of the passage exceeded my expectations!

From the dark dust of the grotto one steps into the sunny dust of a litle swarming suburb. But soon there opens up the decoration of a fairyland. The little valley, confined by the bent back ofPosillipo (beneath which we passed in the grotto), and separated from Naples' shimmering world, is tastefully armyed; everything is bright and orderly, the rows of elms are prettily entwined and interwoven with vines; beneath them the ground is carefully cultivated with gmin, meadow herhs and vegetables. Cleanly ways lead from the military highway to the pretty country dwellings which nearer Posillipo lie in its shadow.

But it was in vain that I sought a shady spot! This over-industrious cultivation does not allow the elms to throw dense shadows, nor does it permit any grassy patch to turn green; for that, the land is too costly. [p.llt] Everything my eye beholds is wnmg by sweaty toil from the ever- generous earth. It is a garden of toil, and no pamdisiacal pleasure grove.- No little plant grows without permission, and neither I nor dear St. Pierre could be really comfortable here.

One drives quickly, on the broad highway, between Posillipo on the left and the Camaldolensian Hill on the right, to the end of the valley, i.e., to the Bay ofPozzuoli, which begins here at the tip ofPosillipo. In the small bay lies the little island ofNisida; rising abruptly from the waves are the whitish-yellow tuff cliffs, and the whole island is cwtivated like a garden. The summit is crowned by a Gothic tower; on the right, the shoreline bends pleasantly toward Pozzuoli, ROMAN DIARY, II 31 which is hidden by the projecting hilL The high Cape Misenum closes the view. On the left opens the Bay of Naples; but the morning light was too dazzling on these shores, where no fresh grove invites the eye to enjoy its green coolness.

(p. Il2] In the afternoon we drove to Portici; it is about one German mile (six [Italian] miglie) from our house, and (except for the flat land near the Saint Madalena bridge), a continuous city; from Naples into the dirty suburbs, from the suburbs into town-like villages, then among Portici's palaces. However, the torment of the dust is alleviated by the sea view and air, which, in rounding the bay, one always has on the right.

We hurried into the palace garden - our visit was directed to VesuviU\', and we mounted the upper part of the new garden layout, which follows his [Vesuvius'] margin. Awesomely he lies stretched out above the towns, villages, and hamlets like a monstrons deposit of nature; so completely dead he looks to me - and yet when I think of the history of his brothers Posilipo, Solfatara, Agnani, Astruni, and the primeval Albano, Monte C~vo - with what convulsions does he still threaten these fields, before a dead sea (p. Il3] fills his maw, and with cloudy t100ds extinguishes the old hell! A scarcely visible white mist rises from the gaping throat as from hot water. We saw from afar the cabin of the hermit, the seven new red craters from [17]74, and the brownish-red stream oflava which at that time threatenedPortici and poured itself out on Torre del Greco; and around us, myrtle bushes were blooming!

The evening was very cool at the seaside; we drove back amid the swanning populace. The facial formations are less distinctive here than in Rome; but the physiognomies are happier and opener. The hubbub of the people, the howling of the hordes of beggars, is as indescribable as it is intolerable; for the organs are rough, the speech incomprehensible, and most unlike the sounding organ of the Romans and their round, full pronunciation.

May 14.

Virgil's Grave. The promenade in the Villa Reale is of blinding heauty by reason of its [p. 114] view of sea, city, and shores; but the lack of shade, and the dust, are a torment even here. The famous work of art, the well-known Toro Farnese, has been set up here in the middle of the promenade; but the brightness of this shining sky, and the streaming reflected glory of the sea, always blinded my eyes, and 1 never found sufficient repose to contemplate this wonder of art at leisure.

I lingered for a while at the seashore, near the ascent to Posilippo. Here dwell the fisher folk of Naples. The nets were spread out to dry on the balustrade of the embankment, and the men were busied about the boats; they are strong and sturdy; the women were ugly, as a Nordic mind imagines the oldest of the Fates - and walked and sat around, spinning on a long endless thread oflife, in unpleasant postures and movements. Naked children joyfully entered the fray, and the mendly, nurturing sea rolled in over moss-covered lava stones. ROMAN DIARY, II 32

[p. 115] My donkey [Esel] appeared, and I rode up Posilip', which at first was still thickly covered with houses, until I came to a high-placed vineyard; here it was lovely and solitary! Narrow and cosy paths led uphill and down beneath fig and mwberry trees, overhung by a network of tender vine-shoots; then between tuff cliffs, where hidden, glowing vinegar roses shone forth, secretly embraced by snow-white bindweeds.

At a little cleft stands the ancient wall-like ruin known as Virgil's Grave [Virgils Grab]. Pleasantly and fancifully shadowed is this little spot, where the tender poet perhaps lingered frequently in his lifetime, although the site certainly does not hold his ashes. Above on the wall, onto which I clambered not without difficwty, the view through the rock cleft, as through a telescope, is very fine. One looks quietly out on the bay teeming with people, on the coast also teeming with people, and lands on VesUI'ius, which seems to be exhaling clouds of smoke. We sought in vain for laurel on the walls! Nor cowd any trace of newly blossoming shoots [p. 116] be found among the growth of blackberries and wild grapes.

May 15.

I was sick and had to remain at home; the liveliness of the air gives me a slight fever, which is due to a more rapid tension of the nerves and will disappear when I become more accustomed to this air. The day passed very quickly in the company of good-natured and intelligent people. Whoever was so fortunate in Naples as to know Tischbein, the son of Nature, and the favorite of Art - Heigelin, the noble trusty fuend of the fuends; whoever knows how to value the brilliant English doctor and minernlogist, Thompson, and the talented and true- hearted Plotz, will readily understand that in such society - with the gaze fixed on the magical scene of the Bay, with milder sunshine, gracious twilight and rising moon - a long summer's day, even in fever, passes rapidly.

[p.117] May 16.

I was better, and we drove in the coolness through the monstrous city, across the Madalena bridge of the Sebetho to Sorgo de' Daci, then throngh Portici to Torre del Greco; all one gigantic city, starting at the southwestern horn of Posilippo, past Resinn to Torre del Annunziata to the outermost toe of Vesuvius; two-thirds of a circle, and a stmight line of at least 12 Italian miles, a seaside city that can be taken in at a single glance.

Here, in Torre del Greco, we viewed the great devastation of 1794, when from the summit of the mountain 200 feet collapsed into the farther funnel, after the mountainside, to the great good fortune of all Campania, had opened itself in seven new fire-breathing crnters, beneath which a tremendous stream oflava poured out and, suddenly turning on Torre del Greco, in part covered this city of 20,000 inhabitants, [p. 118] or turned it to ruins.

I always call these lava streams cooled-down glaciers. We noticed the great thickness of ROMAN DIARY, II 33 this most recent outpouring. Burnt-out slag had risen to the top like foam and, clashing with other pieces, made a sound like breaking glass. Light pumice-stones lie on the surface. Sulfur- flowers, and the beautifw colors of its exhalations, crystallize (? aNSchiessen) everywhere. The church is quite covered with lava; of the tower, only two stories emerge above it. At other places, the ground has suffered upheaval through the powerful thrust of the slowly flowing, glowing mass. Wann vapors emerge from the fissures in the lava crust, often suddenly before our very eyes. Iron, copper, schorl, mica lie glazed within.

Dr. Thompson showed Karl a curiosity in a mineral cabinet. The workshop of a mechanic in Torre del Greco had been covered with lava. Digging into it afterward, they found the iron tools, locks, etc. [p. 119] had been turned back into Eisenmine by the heat, retaining only their outward form. The houses are variously buried up to the third, fourth, fifth or sixth stories; others have burst their walls through the shaking and the power of the heat. Some houses stood unscathed, miracwously preserved, like an island surrounded by the glowing stream; like a cloister, in which the despairing nuns had been seen lamenting at the windows and on the roof. No one could help, for they had been isolated. But the house stood firm, and after a few hours the lava had cooled sufficiently so that by walking on the crust over the lavastream, they could save themselves, their relics and, it is said, even their wardrobe.

Nearby lies a little green garden, innocently smiling like a holy island in the midst of the black, glowing hell. And now, to complete this unique picture, which bas no analogy outside itself - in the midst of the monstrous ruin, in still steaming [p. 120] lava, stone blocks for new buildings are being hewn in great numbers out of the same lava, and the people are building themselves up again out of their flaming gmve, like the phoenix! Irresistible cbann of private (free) property, how powerful you are! The builders are exempt from all payments.

It was wonderful to look from the lava down into the sea, and up to the craters from which it had rolled - encompassing beginning, action and end with a single glance.

They told me that only two people had lost their lives, since the lava flowed slowly. The good nuns who had been in such great danger had presumably relied 100 much on their tutelary saints. These lava vawts teemed with children, most of whom impressed us with their remarkable fish faces. A great many fishermen also live here. But they were very good-natured and fuendly. A fairly well-grown lad of 13 or 14 , who was acting as guide to the lava gallery, was [p. 121] dubbed by us "the dolphin," and laughed heartily over this designation.

We drove back to Resina, to which I was drawn by the fine situation of a villa. It was the Villa Mazarini, which lies at the seaside above gently rising vineyards. On the left projects the outermost lava arm that ever threatened from the direction of Portici, raven black, in the midst of the Elysian green of the meadows, and shadowed by the elm, fig, and olive trees and grapevines. It is impossible to describe how moved I was moved by this contrast! A few hundred paces from the sea, which always seems to be the goal of the glowing, tumbling stream, the powerful current was compelled to lose its impetus and helplessly expire in the midst of the ROMAN DIARY, II 34 tender plant life!! "Thus far and no farther! Here the glowing waves must stop!"

On a rustically shaded and unpretentious patio, I quietly enjoyed the enchanting view. To my right lay Naples, like a wreath around a shining platter, tastefully encircling its mirroring bay; [p. 122] above it rise the bosky heights of St. Martino and Vomero, which afterward seem to attach themselves to Posillipo to form a green hill-world, perhaps the only one of this nature. To one side fragrantly rose the perspective Cape Misenum, and lightly drawn beyond it lies Procyta. In the distance rises Ischia with the giant Epomeo, which extends its long foot far into the flood. Before us, shimmering from the depths, rises rose-tinted Capri between the foothills of MisenuJ1I and Minerva (now Massa), so that on both sides one sees between them into the open sea.

Lovely is the abrupt foothill of Massa, sown with the little white houses of the vineyards. In the clefts, or on the projection of the always roughly hilly shores of the Bay, lie the little towns of Vico. Sorrento and Castell a Mare, behind which the wooded masses of the hills rise commandingly. Oh magic land! Embrnced by the mobile fullness ofthe sea and the bluish mists of the aether! [p. 123] From no other vantage point have I since seen the Bay so beautiful; every part of the magnificent whole interwoven in an inexpressibly lovely wreath of charm and ever-

blooming beauty. - Such moments are given to ns! They must not be sought ~ one never finds them! A fuendly Horn flying past drops the pearls in the open bosom which so easilyach! expires unenjoyed.

We visited in Resina the King's garden, called the Favorite. A citrus grove covers the gentle slope down to the sea. What they here call a new garden layout is a actually a curtailed cross between the old French and Dutch garden styles. A scirocco air arose about noontime; beneath the damp wing of this infamous wind, all plants and shruhs smelled doubly sweet, and the fragrance ofthe ornnge trees became almost too strong for me. In genernli feel well in the scirocco, because it relaxes my nerves and moderntes all pains.

[p. 124] The inn in Portici is one of the most misernble in all parts ofItaly where I have traveled up to now! Without my hunger having been assuaged, I sought for rest after the meal; but beds and sofas were in such a condition that I ~ws robbed of the coumge to trust myself to them. Finally Pohrt fixed me with straw chairs a so-called Polish bed on which, isolated from bedbugs, I indulged in the quiet oflying still until the early afternoon wind of these happy coasts called me to the sea.

But it is difficwt to find one's way to a fresh, clean seashore out of the labyrinth of buildings and walls; the overabundant population squeezes itself right into the waves. We finally arrived at a lonely spot beneath the King's park! Here I established myself in the black lava sand, while Karl and Charlotte ventured far out on the rocky shore. The silver-green waves rolled snow onto the black beach, and impelled surf into the cliff-remnants of broken lava masses. Above me [p. 125] rose overshadowing dark gmy and brown lava cliffs in bizarre shapes. This beach sand is as heavy as lead; it consists simply of ground-up and rounded-off lava remnants, and it threw back metallic reflections to the sun. Grnvel (to judge by its ROMAN DIARY, II 35

appearance) from rounded volcanic products covered the shore. Ochre, verdigris, sulfur yenow, black and rust-colored products of the earth lay all about! In what close collaboration are united here the two original agencies of creation, water and fire!

Most striking is the view upward from the shore into the details of Vesuvius, into the fruitfuJ terrains and stepwise terraces above Portici, Resina and Torre del Greco. Everywhere, between the folds of the green garment, the ancient black lava-streams glide downward like shadows. The deathly figure of its ashen head, the new hen-mouths on its slopes, appear in rnpid contrast to the shimmering green of the chestuut and oak woods which adorn Somma's torn summit.

[p. 126] We drove home in the twilight. How gently the sinking liglrt melted into the most touching tints above the southeastern coast of the Bay! This is the second day of Whitsuntide, and a great festival of the Madonna del Largo, a place of pilgrimage not far from Naples, toward Nola. The crowds were streaming back. On the plain between Portici and Naples (calledPianfuor del Ponte Madalena) was the greatest confusion of men and vehicles that I have ever seen. The conveyances are endlessly various and in part very handsome; the pretty little Neapolitan horses run like lightuing, and nothing exceeds the cleverness of a Neapolitan coachman, except the adroituess of the people in extricating themselves from the crowd. In northern Germany, under similar circumstances, hundreds would be driven to their death and the ground littered with carriage parts. For there, not only clumsiness but also quarrelsomeness and rudeness playa role. Here, the light spirit of joy unites everything. One hears [p. 127) continual fuendly shouts of Aguari! Aguari! [sic: Auguri, AUf.,'Uri?}, and as by a miracle the conveyances intercross, roll, fly in clouds of dust between and through the antlike multitude, without my having heard even one anxious cry of fear and danger. On the contrary, the pedestrians happily shouted their encouraging Bravo! Allegro! to the coachmen who drove the fastest.

The women here seem to me to be small, on the average and in all classes, the men strong. I see agreeable feminine physiognomies among the popuJace. They are prettier than the proud Roman ladies, but far less beautiful. Oranges, lemonade, ice water and watermelons are popuJar refreshments here which are enjoyed by even the poorest.

May 17.

Sea trip to Posillipo. We were in the boat at 6 o'clock. Heaven and earth shone with beauty, and the waves of the Bay bore us aloft. We noticed the hollows and abruptly detached white walls of [p. 128] Posillipo; of these [materials?] Naples is built, and the formation of the coast at Posillipo is man's work. Nowhere is this sun-bathed mountain of tuff so green as to conceal the yellow-white ground beneath the liglrt green of the vineyards and the cultivated garden land. Rare pines and oaks rise along its ridge; even more rnre is the stone oak {Sessiliflora} and the picturesque cypress; nor do I see any laurel. The dilapidated palace of Queen Johanna stands where the vast city loses itself in Posillipo; squeezed into a cliffbay, an empty ghost's castle encompassed by the sounding waves! ROMAN DIARY, II 36

Beautiful was the view backward over Naples, built beneath and on top of cliffs. High enthroned on the rocky brow sits Castell dell 'Elmo; deep down in the sea lies Castell dell' [!two, hewn from the rocks - that fiightfuJ state prison where numberless victims of the trembling tymnny now languish, far from the air and sun. Of five peacefuJ scholars to whom I was referred by my brother, [p. 129] three are confined in the state prisons; among them the noble Don Mario , the friend ofFilangieri. Ach! For two years now he has heen held in the waveresounding depths of the dreadful Castell dell' Uovo! His fiiends still do not know his offense.

Away with these shocking thoughts! We are gliding aronnd the more boldly swelling cliffs ofPosillipo, where green-haired nymphs slip in and out of secret vaulted sea-grottoes, and breaking waves nearby hiss against outflung rocks. Deep hollows open up, in which the galleys are kept. Here lies friend Heigelin's Casino, near shadowing oaks on vertical cliffs! We ronnd the promontory called Punto di Posillipo, and are alone with Nature in the peaceful, clear, cliff- encircled sea basin. Through a boldly vaulted sea-hall we gaze into the remote sea-green; then up to the horizontal tuff strnta of Posillipo, slowly grooved by dancing waves.

Here on the sharp cliff-slope, there hangs over the flood an old [p. 130] Roman construction called la Scuola di Virgilio (for the now once chosen protective saint ofPosillipo). A hermit has made himself at home in these ruins of the luxurious home of Asinius Pollio, and his beggar's sack hangs like a pivot on a swaying cane [wie eine Angel an schwankender Gertej. From deep down in the crystalline sea, old pieces of masonry are visible; red bricks still lodge in comers of the rock, and even pieces of marble stucco can still be seen here and there.

Most astonishing is the view from this rocky nest through to Cap Misenum, the lightly poured Procita and the high Epomeo. How clear are these waters; light as air they play about the rocky foundations. You clearly see the horizontally projecting strata of the rocks, the seaweed beds at the sea bottom, and the way the little curling waves flow past like overflowing locks.

Abruptly above us hangs the Punto di Posillipo. A fallen mass ofrocks lies before it; we rowed around it, and came quickly, as in a change of[p. 131] scenery, into more open waters; but still in a quiet bay, where lies the lonely Nisida, the pretty island, abruptly rnised from the floods, on which we soon landed. CheerfuJly we climbed up the well-arranged, garden-like slope, mother and children picking flowers; here were also the most beautifuJ butterfly flowers, in all colors and forms as at home - this lovely sylph-race of the flower-world! They bloomed as shrubs in the orange-perfumed Sparthium, and on the bushes of Cytisus, and crept as multicolored vetch on the surrounding hedges and plants.

From the space in front of the house, situated at the middle height of the island, the outlook is already splendid. Pozzuoli lay firmly fixed on its cliff shore; nearer to us, on rounded heights, the treetops of the Astruni valley; the edges of the lake of Agnano, and the white cmter cliffs of Solfatara. High rises Monte Barbaro, with the wood-encircled Camaldolen.\'ian Cloister on its forehead. Then there opens, between the [p. 132] Bagnoli chain of hills and the gently sloping, fresh green land side of Posillipo, the charming embellishment of the little valley Fuor di ROMAN DIARY, II 37

Grotta, as far as the hollow of Posillipo, which marks the return from Tempe's peaceful vale into a resounding, pretentious doll-world. We landed here, where our carriage awaited us, and were back in Naples for lunch (zum Mittagessen).

May 19.

I had a strong desire to be above the city for once. But this is a real journey. The ride through dusty, endless Naples, on the diagonally laid, quadrangnlar lava pavement, is more taxing than the regular beauty of this celebrated pavement would lead one to expect; the reason is probably the dumtion of the monotonons movement by which, at regular intervals, as on small heels, one is gently but continuously jolted. We finally arrived behind Naples, on the back of the Vomero, past the St. Martino fortress and the Belvedere, and IIp. 133] slipped into a lonely, obscure and unknown vineyard.

Ach, here was coolness and fresh green! Whoever thinks that in Italy the green is less tender, its first freshness less lasting than in the North, is mightily deceived. The grain is already standing in heavy ears, and the seed is still green Enoch hat Saatgriln). The cherries are already ripening, and the leaves are still shining in their first freshness. Similarly the apricots and the fruit- laden fig trees, whose fruitful green is so refreshing to the eye. I remained here a long time, the sky covered but the air pure. How the blooming vineyard exhaled spirit and life! The purple Prato shone beneath the Armidian grapevines. I burrowed deeply in the grass, under tree and vine and herbs, and tried for once to forget the blinding splendor of Part hen ope and his [sic] coasts, sunk in blessed dreams.

Then came my hired servant - "Near here is the most beautifuJ view of the hill, indeed of all Naples!" "I don't wish to see anything today, dear Louis!!" "No foreigner passes it (p. 134] by!" - "I'm not a foreigner, I am quite at home here in the grass!" "Ach! Your Excellency (as is known, this is the customary form of address in Naples, and is even put into verse; for when I became impatient over poor harnessing, delays, etc., the postilions always cried out to me: "cellenza! Si vuo/ Patienza! ") "Ach! Your Excellency shouJd only have seen how beautiful her Royal Highness, the gracious Princess ofDessau, found the view from the Villa Patrizio She didn't want to leave at all!" Then I stood up on my two legs. Dear Luise! In your footsteps I am as much at home as in the green grass! "Now, dear Louis, take me to where the Princess of Dessau found it beautiful!"

This villa lies dignified and isolated above the end ofthe Vomero, where it is separated from Posillipo by a deep cleft, so that on three sides, from the balconies of the windows and the vestibule of the house, one has an outward, downward and perspective view such as (p. 135] only Naples can afford in looking down upon this sea, these Hesperian coasts, and these islands! The city lay below me to the left, disposed in a wreath of beauty, and the gaze floats thence over the Capuan plain to the far-off mountains of the Abbruzzo. Beyond the mirrorlike sea basin at Somma and Vesuvius' feet the towns are laid out along the seashore like Polyphemus' herds. Then follows the eastern mountain chain, where everything rises more boldly, shadows more ROMAN DIARY, II 38 darkly and, to an eye familiar with nature, seems the calcareous counterpart of the volcanic chain; it stretches as far as Cap Minerva, the outermost horn of the Neapolitan crescent. Seated there in the green rocky valleys, as in a loved mother's lap, are the little towns of Vi co, Sorrento, etc. In the midst of the undulating sea, Capri holds fast the lowering gaze.

And this is only from the left side, as far as the midpoint. Now one wanders into a Paradise! Here the view, and with it the whole soul sinks into those quiet depths of a [p. 136] lovely shadow world! Gone is Naples and all its pomp! Here lives loneliness in the shadow of rustic peace; here where, under chestnut-wooded heights of the Agnano valley, this Tempe-like landscape sinks, and rises and sinks, and swells again, uphill and down, the green plenitude of fruitfwness! This valley, so close to the noisiest of cities, is a fairy tale.

The third act of this dramatic overview opens upon the great hill-chains of the Phlegmean landscape. There lies Misenum's high peninsula with its narrow earth-dam; beyond it sparkles the sea between Procita and Ischia. The fmgrant forelands, aligned as with an ethereal brushthese islands, this flowing sea, ach! this Greek heaven and this Greek earth, enthusiastically loved by the Romans and Greeks, sung by the sweetest voices of ancient times - this my eye trWy sees, my heart feels, my mind assimilates!

I spent the rest of the day at home, in [p. 137] retrospective enjoyment. -It was somewhat disturbed - no letters from the North! Only from Rome - the Franks [French] are approaching What will become of us? Holy Father! send powerful anathemas (Bannftrahlen) against them! Golden, thick rays! ROMAN DIARY, II 39 BRUN95N [p. 139] V. NAPLES. Continnation.

[p.141] May 20, 1796.

I was on the sea early in the morning, in order to breath freely and without motion; for the quiet inhalation of these morning airs is the balsam of life, but every movement attacks me to the point of exhaustion. We spent a short hour with the most interesting English Dr. Thompson, who very graciously showed the ignorant visitors parts of his minernl cabinet, distinguished by the heauty and completeness of its specimens.

In the afternoon I chatted away some hours with the intelligent and lively Caroline, the widow of the great Filangieri4 In the evening, mend Tischbein and Georg Hackert were with me. This evening scene on the Bay is each time a new festival. The full moon rose in the twilight from [p.142] the vapors of Vesuvius above the blushing coast, and the most enchanting moonlight night soon descended into the Bay. Slowly the ever-growing silver column trembled its way from Castel a Mare over to us, and the rocky masses ofPosillipo advanced in magical illumination. The monstrous tumult of Naples is as though fettered, and only the splashing sound of the gently rowed fishing boats breaks the stillness; the beckoning torchlight reflection on the sea's smooth surface behind the boats reaches all the way to us. Why does not the great torch of the Mountain shine forth? Without this Phlegraean (phli.igri.iisch) light, I feel that I am only half on the Bay of Naples.

May 21. I luxuriated so much in the enjoyment of art in Rome that I feel here a real hunger for the enjoyment of nature, and willingly yielded to this mom! instinct. At six o'clock I was again on the sea. While Karl takes his swimming lesson, I row [p. 143] around nearby, or scmmble on the shore. I have found a couple of very good, mendly sailors who wait for me outside my window every morning at five with the little boat. One of them is Karl's swimming teacher; the other, my Cicerone, whom I heartily like, because he no longer tells me more than I ask, and thus shows true concern for me and my Charlotte.

We disembarked today by the empty and wave-encircled castle of Queen Johanna. It is built in a noble style; few of the palaces of Chiaio possess such grandiose architecture; it is completely uninhabited, and is falling entirely to pieces. When angry waves run high, and the storm howls through the empty rooms, I would like to visit it; at such times one cannot land, but

'Gaetano Fi1angieri (1752-1788), Italian jurist (Translator) . ROMAN DIARY, II 40

travels in boats through the lower vaults. I wandered long on the tuff cliffs hard hy the sea, and saw the soft stones breaking off above me in Posillipo; they are rolled down the steep incline and brought by water [p. 144] to the city.

Here, too, are great linen-bleacheries. The linen is spread out on the gmy-black lava sand of the seashore, and wetted down with sea water. The cliff banks, formed oflava reaching into the sea in horizontal strnta, are covered with a soft, bright mossy ; green, red, yellow, white and brown intermingle; but unlike my friend Stollberg, I did not find this mass frngrant, but rather exuding a strong sea odor. I greatly enjoy folJowing in the footsteps of the noble Stollberg on these shores, and, like him, find myself in the lap of nature. We visited the little Casino of the famous Sir [William] Hamilton, near the castle; it lies beneath a little rock-cleft of Posillipo, on a flat projecting rock formation. A jittle garden grows beside it, bordered by an oleander hedge; in the middle is a shady arbor of roses and jasmine, and a pretty little Cupid listens in the lovely dusk.

[p. 145] A1> is fitting for the great observer of Vesuvius, one has here the finest, most complete and most majestic view of the mountain; I wowd like to experience an eruption here at the side of the mendly sage.

The hot hours of the day are spent in comfortable rest, with writing, reading and especially with doing nothing; and I am becoming quite the Itahlm fally - even to being awake at night and sleeping long. But ah! I can still not find any little nest in the country - and what I call country is far, far from Naples' dusty atmosphere! My heart longs for La Cava's romantic grounds, and Vietri's cool shores! A1> long as I swim on the sea, or, like a mussel in the shell, live in my lovely cool rooms, I am splendidly content; but movement on land is always a lifeand-death fatigne, and I should have to become a nymph, like Parthenope, in order to last.

We drove up to the Queen's pleasure palace on the [p.1461 slope of the Vomero; three- quarters of an hour through lava dust. Each time the tumwt in the Piazza Reale seems to me like a mob scene; yet it is a splendid panomma, with the view of the sea and Vesuvius! The Toledo Street is always crammed full, like the Corso during the Carnival in Rome. I admired the discretion of the coachmen as much as the adroituess of the pedestrians. Everything is in teeming movement, yet nobody loses his head. How people in the northern cities knock against each other, and curse and grumble and resort to blows! Here, in Rome, Paris, and Marseille, everybody finds room and counsel through universal good nature. [n Hamburg, Fmnkfurt, Brunswick, what a din of discord!

Naples is very clean in most streets, as it seems especially to anyone coming from Rome; for there (thanks to the harvesting [einiimdtendenJ Papal Chamber) no agriculture adorns the empty Campagna, and so all refuse quietly piles up in the streets. Here [p. 147) these valuable residues are carefully sought out, and the children even gather up the traces of the rnpidly passing horses - in their hats. ROMAN DIARY, II 41

The view from the Belvedere at sunset was vast and charming at the same time; not as comprehensive as that of the Villa Patricio But everytlllng one sees is so harmoniously ordered; the city half hidden to the left of the green St. Martino, which we climbed and drove around. Castel del Uovo lies picturesquely extended into the sea; above the Bay, purple-clad Portici wreaths the shore; the ashy head of the mountain glows red in the evening.

In delighted self-abandon, eye and sense plunge into the luxuriant green of the gently swelling Posil!ipo - down into these magic gardens, where single pines and oaks rise from the soft green of elms and grapevines, and the attractive country houses are scattered on little heights and declivities, or look from the mountain backbone into the sea. This [p. 148] pleasing, crescent-shaped hill, the favorite resort of Virgil and Sannazaro, slopes on the landward side in quiet valleys, as in Thessalian groves of former times; but its seacoast is cut out, as by a playful hand, in lightly delineated bays. The sun sinks behind the tall oaks of Monte Barbaro; slowly the moon floats upward from eastern vapors, a fiery disk; sea and shore swim in the floating air. Roses and lily leaves float downward from the evening clouds upon the somnolent Parthenope.

May 22.

Our arch-enemies, the French, are giving us a Jot of trouble!! Everything is being armed! Heard all around are the drumbeats and pipes of marching regiments. Drills are held from early morning until nightfall on the square by Villa Reale; and the carriages rumble to the shore at the command of sweating officers. At alJ street corners stand [p. 149] monks of all types and colors - preaching courage and fidelity, and stout-hearted defense of the religion and the king. On Piazza fuor dell Ponte Maddalena one sees troops of volnnteers reporting for duty. The people hate the French from long ago; wowd they also hate the New Franks on closer acquaintance? How the words Equality and Liberty would resound in the ears, and soon in the hearts of this popwace - what movements the proximity of the Gaws in the unhappy, exhausted provinces of the kingdom would elicit - all this is easier to foresee than to calculate in its fermenting mass; and the person who does not wait here for the explosion of the darkly rumbling volcano is myself!

We made a sea journey with dear [Signora] Filangieri and her hopeful sons to Punto di Posillipo, and visited the dreadful hollow there which is called la (Trotta dei Tritoni. One rows in between [p. 150] the wave-covered foundations of the villas ofLuculJus and Pollio, to the right between the Najolo cliffs. The cool grotto is majestic and broadly vawted. Brownish masses of tuff hang down threateningly ftom above; the deep water plays with sulfur-blue on walls spattered with metallic colors. To the left opens an arcade of natural construction with a magical view ofNisida. A1> the waves rise and sink in the vaulting, there sounds an echo from the clefts of the far-stretching depths as from the shell horns of playing Tritons; hence comes perhaps the name of this grotto. In dusky depths a rock deft yawns toward Misenum. Our boatmen told us that the Monicelli (the Germans' Little Monk.~) resided in this grotto by night, and that no fishenuan who seeks the dangerous grotto in a storm c~mes out alive. ROMAN DIARY, II 42

We rowed around the Lazareth [quarantine?] rocks and Nisida; the former is hung like a Gothic tower [p.1Sl] with jackdaws' and swallows' nests, with antique remnants of Roman villas. I was deeply moved on seeing in Nisida the refuge chosen by Brutus and Cato against the popwar rising ofthe degenerate Romans after Caesar's death.

Our dear Tischbein spent the noon hour with us, and we, taking it hack with interest, spent the afternoon with him. From the fullness of beautiful things in which we reveled, on which we gorged ourselves, I mention only (I) the life-sized picture in which the fine physiognomist [Tischbein] has luckily caught the eagle Goethe in a mre moment of repose. (2) Helen, Paris and Hector, a large historical painting, still unfinished. The Helen is already complete in spirit, lacking only the last tonch. Never has a painted fignre so highly delighted me, contented me with such sweet rest. She is the most beautiful on earth, and looks about her unpretentiously as a goddess. Yes! Tischbein is a child of nature, nurtured at the bosom of antiquity !

The [p. 152] other figures are splendid academic [studies], but still of marble; I do except, however, an indescribably charming young maiden who kneels before Helena with her work. These two figures are the painted definition of the Grazia sublime and piacevole of my Winckelmann. (3) We saw the first volume of Tischbein's work on Homer: i.e., his happy idea of presenting in copper engravings everything which antiquity has preserved for us from Homer's epics in statues and busts, on vases, intaglios, gems and has-reliefs; to pictorialize Homer for us, and thus, in a happy cyclical pattern, return him, who became the father of art through song, into the world of sense throngh art.

May 23.

In great heat we were early on the sea, where strengthening coolness surrounded me. We set our course for Portici, and indulged our gaze on the most delightful setting that ever surrounded a harbor. How the amphitheatric [ p. 153] heights round themselves above the town! How remarkably rises the mixture of cliffs and buildings, in which the former often overhang the latter, and the latter often CroWD the former! How splendid is this teeming seashore, extending from Posillipo' s tip into the Maddalena meadow, where the Campo felice gently opens, and the Abruzzian Apennine lightly raises itself in the blue haze. The Molo on its lava foot steps into the sea, the fine Chiaio girdles the city! Above the towering palaces, the fresh green of the vines, elms and mwberries wreaths the hills, which then majestically incline their high heads in the blue air.

A boat full of young fisher-fellows followed us. - Like frogs from a green bank, the mischievous boys leaped from the boats into the sea - and now the whole troop, like Tritons and dolphins, flitted around our boat, dived down, disappeared, leaped about, romped and scuffled in short, pursued their existence as uninhibitedly in the green (p. 154) waves as in a green meadow - to the great delight of the children, who threw them bread and oranges, but finally dribbled wine into their open throats; all of which they snapped up in the most comical, fish ROMAN DIARY, II 43

like manner, and took beneath the waves - then, suddenly popping up again, asked for new provender. Not until we had satisfied them with a handful of small coins did they leave us - and I surrendered undisturbed to the double enjoyment of reading in my Ariosto on the dancing waves, and raising my eyes to look about me. In the heat of noon we returned to our cool dwelling.

I spent the evening hour and the twilight after sunset at the palace of Queen Johanna. The sea murmured powerfwly, with hollow waves and no wind, in independent movement; and I was frequently driven up the beach by advancing waves from the suddenly wet rocks. The horizon line of the sea between the tip [p. 155] ofPosillipo and Capri, and again between Capri and the foothills of Massa, seems to round itself off as though drawn by the warm evening light, and the green nymphs seem to raise their heads with joy.

May 24.

On this day we visited with Tischbein the cabinet of Etrurian, Campanian, or actually ancient Greek vases assembled six years ago by Sir [William] Hamilton. It is one of the foremost in the world - and acknowledges only the King's colJection, at Capo di Monte, as its rival. The sow of this extraordinary man now hangs with the same passion on these fine and mysterious imaginative pictures from the ancient world, as it did formerly on the eruptions of Vesuvius, which, however, he never loses sight of But this quiet, scholarly enjoyment of fine forms and thoughtful pictures of the past is so touchingly and harmoniously adjusted to the evening life [p. 156] of the noble old gentleman, that I would be able to see him, not without reverence and heartfelt emotion, among the gmve monuments of former times.

For all the vases, pots, plates, urns and vessels, without exception, were found in gmves, and those which are found in the localities of Locri and Nola are considered the most beautiful. Tischbein asked us not to believe anything of all that he and other laymen and savants have said, believed, pointed out and hypothesized concerning the purpose, use and meaning of these variously formed vessels. After this honorable invitation to skepticism, he began his instruction - and for this very reason found a most believing student. He drew my attention to the beauty, density and lightness of the clay; the blackest is the best. The purity and loveliness of the forms develops the taste even while satisfYing it. How gracefw and pmctical at the same time are the handles and [p. 157] fingerholds! One can cook in these vessels, even burn them out, without damaging the form and colors of the drawings 011 them, the material is so purified. The rightuess and lightuess ofthese fignres, which seem to have floated out from the ethereal stream of fantasy, are declared by Tischbein to be unsurpassable, and nnattainable by the copyist (even the most practiced master band).

We saw the handsome Hamilton Hotel [residence]. In the upper story (the house lies on the Chiaio) there is a corner room which seems almost to float in these Hesperian airs. In it one becomes a bird, and sails away with outstretched wings of thought between sky, sea and land. Today I saw the picture before the original; Lady Hamilton, painted by the most famous artists ROMAN DIARY, II 44

as Mimin [actress?]. It is a splendid Bacchante; complete in all forms, and similar to the famous Bacchanale of the handsome sarcophagus which [p. 158] stands in the Courtyard of the Belvedere, immediately on the left of the entrance.

May 25.

Today we visited Philipp Hackert and his brother Georg. This man has built his art on mathematical ruJes, and arranged according to conclusions. It is not the omnipotence of genius, nor the enchantment of an ever new and active imagination, which seizes upon me before his paintings; but a quiet pleasure, akin to the joys of remembrance, lingers gently with him. Industry, unequaled experience, and taste distingnish him. I thought it as impossible that Hackert should paint or draw an impure atmospheric tone, a faJse perspective, a misplaced tree, or a chimerical outline, as that Herschel should make a mistake about the heavens or Schwz play an unresolved dissonance. He knows all Italy, Calabria and Sicily as I know my garden; everywhere he sought and found [p. 159] nature, and the easily embmceable heauty. We particularly admired three landscapes; a portmit of the region of Pie di Monte on a fine evening, and two morning compositions; not dream pictures piled on top of one another (as is so often the case with the more recent landscape painters), but recollections from the fwlness of an imagination, sated with natural scenes, which lingers always in the domain ofheautifw reality, and never becomes fantastic.

As the sun was setting I made a solitary excursion through the Grotto (which for me becomes increasingly a transition from life to a higher being, Purgatory) into the Mergellina valley; that is the name ofthe horizontal ground which one enters from the Posillipo Grotto. I lost myself among high-blooming com stalks, beneath an airy elm and vine heaven. The dusk of evening colored the valley, while reddish lights still lingered over the Camaldolensian Cloister. I felt as though I were already in Elysium, so still [p. 160] and secluded is this charming valley, encompassed by the defending Posillipo, and separated from the dark hollow by the shimmering Neapolitan world.

May 26.

Corpus Christi festival. It was not for the empty pomp of the procession, but to see the populace in a confluence of all classes, that I drove to the square before the Jesu Church, which opens upon one ofthe main thoroughfures through which the procession passed. I noticed first that the assembled orphan children were here more reasonably dressed and looked healthier than in Rome. In the elegant ladies who occupied and adorned the windows and halconies of a palace in front of me, I noticed less beauty and stature in the facial features and the outlines of the figure, but more charm and complaisance in gestures and dress than with the proud Roman ladies, who want only to conquer.

I was told that the class of the [p. 161] Lazzaroni often includes rich fellows who are not idle daytime thieves and vagrants without fixed residence, but porters, day laborers and fruit ROMAN DIARY, II 45

peddlers, and even sailors; these consider themselves, as snpporters of the King, to be members of the celebrated sect of the Homeless - royalist samell/oftes, and, in these days of apprehension, one of the pillars of Naples' hopes against the approaching French.

The King [Ferdinand I] appeared on foot behind the Most Holy [things]. He is a tall, good-looking man, his face looks good-natured; he looked very sad, and really bent. Good man! Why was the burden of this crown laid on your honest - but weak - head? Why was it not your fate to hunt and fish as a harmless landowner (Umdjlmker)'l Most repellent to me, on the whole, were the faces of the assembled Neapolitan grandees. Thick, yellow-bloated, distorted feverpictures! Hardly a face did I find among the motley, bedecked and decorated crowd on which I [p.162] could linger with appreciation. - This observation applied with redoubled force to the clergy, in whose broad features the ruling characteristic was a heavy brutality; how much sensitivity, in contrast, is revealed by the Roman prelates' heads!

We are having remarkable weather. Dull, thick, heavy air; but without Skirokko. Sea, islands, and shoreline swim in haze, and one can scarcely guess at the distinguishing outlines. Without wind, the sea is nevertheless in constant inward movement, and beneath the inert pinions of heavy, lifeless air, the waves break foaming on the shore, and the sea moves hollowly. The sun cannot penetrate the hazy atmosphere; but it is not clouds that conceal it. Vesuvins lets dull thunder rumble, and the newer craters steamed to some extent yesterday; can it be that a physical outbreak oflong-impeded forces is closer to us than the moral one? Perhaps we are vacillating between the two - both wiJl occur in accordance with equally necessary laws of nature.

[p. 163] I paid a visit to Kniep, our dear countryman (in the broad sense of this homely term, with which people so gladly greet one another abroad); for, in reality, this well-known landscape artist (Landsehaftszeiehner) is a Hanoverian! But a landscape artist indeed! Never have I seen sketches like his. Each of them is an academic masterpiece. Air and perspective, trees, relationships of the architectonic parts, everything is complete, finished with the most graceful elegance. His own compositions are full of delicacy; neo-Greek idylls, interwoven with charming lively scenes. He is a confidant of nature. What a tender life in the lovely plant world of his foregrounds, and what a characteristic truth in his foothills and mountains, where one always immediately distinguishes the types of rock, and the chalk and tuff cliffs retain their own Habitus as faithfully as the chestuut tree, the oak, the swamp and hill plants. The material from which this truly great artist [p. 164] evokes his most ingenious landscapes is the sepia, which he handles with all possible strength and skill.

I saw at his place portraits of the most enchanting views of La Cava, Vietri, Salerno; and my longing for this Tempe, Campania, grew afresh!

Afternoon. I have long wanted tu ride on the backbone ofPosillipo as far as its sea- bathed tip. According to all topography, this way must offer the most enchanting views. My hired servant advised against the project, as tiring and not very rewarding; but being familiar ROMAN DIARY, II 46

with Neapolitan indolence, I stuck to my design. But I had taken account only of nature, and not of the art-locality ofPosillipo!

We rode below Virgil's grave, climbing ever higher between the tuff walls, from which wild shrubbery at first nodded down to us, and on which single pines and deciduous trees grew upward. We had a splendid view backward from the cleft onto the bay ofChiaio, the tip [p.165] of Pizzo- Falconi's house-mountains, and down to CasteU del Uovo. Here the gap in the cliffs shoves itself together, and the curve of the Bay resembles a deeply sunken fresh-water lake; the Belvedere shines forth in the wreath of the vine-clad hills, appearing, in the lovely deception of distance, as greenly shadowed as it is actually stony and harsh.

But as the back of the hill was reached, all joy was for long at an end! The unfortunate white walls of the vineyards shut us in closely; one knows that there are the most enchanting downward views on both sides, and langllishes in dust and heat. Oh, curse of the excessive population! - How these endless walls martyred me already in Marseille! Only through the occasionally opened gates, or through the breach in a fallen wall, did one see, as in a Paradise Lost, down to the valley floor ofjUor di Grotta.

Finally, after a tiresome two hours' ride, we reached the edge of the peninsula, above the Punto di Posillipo, just as the sun was [p. 166] setting, and I wanted to seize the victor's wreath, to rest on the slope overlooking land and sea, and the reddish islands. Ah! Then my servant whispered to me: "It is not safe here; robbers and murderers live in the caves beneath the Punta, and a few years ago an English lady was murdered at this place." At the same time he pointed out to me a couple of brown fellows, in ragged clothing and armed with flints and pistols, creeping around in the hollows.

Never in my life have I been so disappointed! I wanted to remain; for I do not believe that any living being with whom I can talk, and who looks at me, wiU harm me, and I have no fear of thieves or murderers. But the fear of poor Louis seemed so great that I took pity on him! So we climbed down the precipice ofPosillipo (since to ride was impossible). A path has been tom through cliff walls and cracks in ancient law and tuffbanks, [p.167] and its precipitous irregularities are picturesquely overgrown.; this I climbed down, for none of my companions went as fast or as safely as I and my two light deer; - an uncertain guide is the most tiresome of beings -- and so we descended little by little into the soft green of jUor di Grotta, where my carriage awaited me. It was night; we drove tllrough the Grotto with torches, and with this fantastic illumination it brought home to me for the first time its strange and dreadful effect.

May 27.

Today I spent some hours with Karl in the mineral cabinet of the young English doctor Thompson, who graciously accommodated himself to my simplicity. Most interesting to me are the crystals and crystallizations, and the crystalline condensations of mineral salts. The internal secret of an opened flint enchants me; [p. 168] these small worlds, secretly and brilliantly ROMAN DIARY, II 47 formed in the lap of night, have for me a deep attraction, especially in the c.ontrast with the multifarious sulfur- and alum- (? Allmm-) flowers which we see forming themselves before our eyes in these Phlegraean [volcanic] localities. A very rare cabinet-piece particularly attracted my notice. It was a dark gray mass oflava, fine-grained as clay, around which white quartz had crystallized in octagons so that the whole thing looked like a wasp's nest. The side of the piece measured about a square foot. This unusual piece had, if I am not mistaken, been found in Scotland.

In the afternoon, in somewhat cooler air, we made a long-contemplated visit to the lake of Agnano. The road, under freshly greened hills in the fresh valley, is most attractive; the lake, delightfully flanked on the northwest by vineyards, is slrITounded in the southeast by young, bright green chestnut groves, and bordered by the rugged mountain which separates this lake valley from the black-wooded crater valley of Astrumi.

[p. 169] A fine alley of slender poplars squeezed itselfbetween the lake and a gently rising meadow where there were fragrant haystacks. But the water of the lake is muddy, and millions of toads and frogs crowd the banks in such numbers that one finds no fixed point which doesn't soon hop or creep! I breathed with difficulty in the heavy air, the reason for which we found in the visible drying out of the volcanic lake and the evil exhalations of the muddy shores.

We visited the sulfur baths and the Dogs' grotto - but we contented ourselves with the torch experiment, and saw only the trembling anxiety of the tortured animal, whom our guide much desired to take with us. I was anxious to leave these Avernian airs, in which my poor soul immediately sinks its laden wings, in order to visit the remarkable sources of the local sulfur baths known as Ie Pisciarelli; one drives to the left and gradually uphill through the poplar alley. Most [p. 170] delightful is the deep loneliness of these volcanic grounds, where nature rests, fresh and flowery, on her own ruins. We wandered in the pleasant, perfumed thickets of Cytisus, myrtle and mastic. Before us rose, in dazzlingly contrasted color effects, the white tuff head of Monte Secco with its ochre and vitriol decoration above luxtrriant, succulent green.

But suddenly everything was transformed! Torn hillsides surrounded us, the rough path makes its way through white, ruined cliffs, the loose tuff-stone is tinctured with red, violet and yellow and often reduced to plaster. The hollow earth resounds beneath our footsteps, and exudes damp sulfurous vapors. We climbed farther in the bed of a wild dried-out brook; steaming cracks yawned on all sides, and as one nears the main source, the sweat pours out heavily. In front of this main cavity stood a deep pool of bubbling, bluish water; within, one heard it fermenting and boiling. [p. 171] This sulfurous air, unmixed with the emanations of stagnant water (and unlike the lake of Agnano) is very beneficial to me. On the way back we noticed, on the right where one climbs up from the lake, ancient masonry, probably rllns of baths, of which the bath-loving Romans undoubtedly installed a good many in a neighborhood so rich in hot springs.

May 28. ROMAN DIARY, II 48

Trip to Pozzuoli; gorgeous in the cool morning hour, through the Tempe-like valley fiLor di Grotta. The Bagnole seashore remained on the left with Posillipo. The perspective view of the sea through the poplar alley was very fine. Nisida comes into view, and soon joins Gajola and the Lazaretto cliffs on the left. But we drive to the right beneath the Puzzolan cliffs, hard by the sea, which foams against the impeding lava rocks. The sole but huge law stream which formed this coast, and which [p. 172] exceeds the age of all our history, is ascribed by Hamilton to the old Solfatara volcano.

We soon looked from the higher road onto Baiae's gently bowed coast, where the Monte Nuovo rises between Pozzuoli and Baiae. We visited the temple of Seraph is in Pozzuoli. To judge by its appearance, it was most probably destroyed by an earthquake. The tine columns lie there as though knocked over. They seemed to me to have been [ made] of ZippolliflO, fine- grained red granite, Porto santo breeeia, and marble. We inspected the temple with a plan we had brought with us. Very remarkable, it seemed to us, were the traces of sea-dates (Meerdatteln) high up on the three standing Corinthian columns. We carefully removed some of these univalves, but they broke between our fingers; beneath the debris, sea sand was heaped up. How close together, everywhere in this wonderland, are the formative and destructive elements, the omnivorous and regenerative ones! My friends had allowed me [p. 173] to travel to Pozzuoli because the Mal- Aria is supposed to begin only in June - But truly it was already there!

It is true that the most lovely vegetation grew about us in these ruins, and that pomegranates (Granaten) bloomed, vines crept, roses and jasmine smelled sweetly around us. But the air was slack, like lukewarm water, and everything crawled with young toads. We returned to the inn. Here I was attacked by a somnolence such as I had never experienced, as it were with arms of iron; I was nauseated; but it was sleepiness that predominated. It was only by bathing my face with vinegar and water, drinking a little wine, and putting torth the utmost exertion of all my faculties that I warded off the dangerous sleep until a boat was there and I threw myself into the invigorating bath of sea air; there I again breathed consciousness and life.

And herewith are brought to an end for this summer our projects for Baiae, Averno, Mare morte, the whole Virgilian underworld, the Curnaean Sibyls and 's temple at [p. 174] Paestum. They could offer me half the world, and I would not breathe again the loathsomeness of these airs, and the heavy deathlike sleep. No! This toads' air is poison tor an Alpine chamois.

We drove to Misenwn, surrounded by so many interesting objects from the old world, beneath the lovely outlines of ever youthful nature. We left behind us the old Molo ofPozzuoli (the so-called Bridge of Caligula), and saw the Gaurus mountain, the father of the Falernian wine, rising steeply; while the Monte Nuovo, the son ofthe wonder-night, sprung in dark hours from the womb of the old bearer, rises close by over the sea. From on high the fortress ofBauli looks downward - deep down on the sea beach lie the ruins of voluptuous Baiae, whose corrupt moral climate was formerly as dangerous to good customs as the quality of the air now is to health. ROMAN DIARY, II 49

Very charming and delightful [p. 175] is the architectural style of the little so-called Temple of Venus (a baptistery belonging to the great baths), like the Minerva Mediea on the Esqlriline and the Tempio delia Tosse in the Gardens of Sallust at Tivoli. The rllns ofBauli glided past us with the horrifying thought of Nero and Agrippina, which rose in frightfulness from the waves and trickled down from the shore! - Fly hence, you figures of dread, into the sea of death!

We drew near to Cap Misenwu; it is a peninsula, and apparently is connected to the mainland only by a narrow neck ofJand consisting of a chain ofJittle hills bordering the harbor ofBaiae on the south; these hil1s are called Colle delia villa di Pompeio. Through a sea-grotto we row beneath these tuff stone cliffs, slowly, on the clear darkness of the waves, forward through the Grotta degli spiriti (Spirits' grotto); behind us, Baiae's bay disappears; before us opens a new [p. 176] sea-basin, and Cap Misenwu, which we, deceived by an optical illusion, thought we had left behind us, again lies qlrietly before us at the end of a jagged row of battered cliffs. These cliffs have been heaped up like the Baths of Caracalla at Rome, and dreadfully pelted with the rllns of the ancient Misenwu. Misenwu, too, was visibly damaged by the earthquake, which tore open the cliff foundation of its blrildings and split its roofs.

We landed at the base of the high foothilJ, where it hangs upon the cliff hills on the landward side; we wandered through groves of fig trees over the back of the narrow hilJ-dam through which it is linked to the mainland. There was a splendid view over the Mare morte (the former harbor ofM. Agrippa) and on the foothill of Prozita, named for the island opposite to it, behind which Ischia rises proudly upon its giaut Epomeo. The grotto ofTracconaria, the objective [p.177] of this landing, was visited. For me there is nothing striking about it; it is not picturesquely vaulted, and offers no charming or noble views. It seemed obvious to me that it was not formed by natural agency but dug out according to plan; and water is still kept there. Here, too, the dead sea exuded a dull Mal-Aria, and not only I but also Pohrt and my servant experienced drowsiness and nausea.

I fled to the sea! - It seems that since the last eruption and the [partial] collapse of Vesuvius, the air has become worse; for these localities are, according to general testimony, to be visited with anxiety only after four weeks and in growing heat; but even a week ago, Karl and Pohrt returned deathly pale from a pilgrimage around the lake of Agnano, through the Astruni valley, etc., and complained of nausea, vomiting and a little fever. In Portici (where otherwise the air is generally considered healthy at all seasons), [p. 178] a man recently fell dead on the opening of his wine cellar, after having climbed down with no anxiety, on encountering a single breath ofhelJish vapors. They say also that some days ago when the King was hunting in the park of Portici, two hunting dogs fell dead at his feet. It may be that the cave-in of the top of the mountain has resulted in the blocking of some of the usual Soupiraux [ventilation openings] of the mephitic vapors, which now seek an outlet here and there and in this way alter the air quality at different points.

I willingly admit that I always wander with a certain secret shudder over these ever ROMAN DIARY, II 50

blooming and ever- burning hells, and will never feel at home in this land, where one cannot cling confidently to the mother's lap of earth, and may not breathe without anxiety the strengthening fragrance of the earth and the refteshing fragrance of the tenderest plants, but must often hasten away with shy steps, as qlrickly as though stepping over a newly covered grave.

So, receive me once again, you friendly [p. 179J sea-borne ! - We drove right into the fullness of the waves, and around Cap Misenum as far as its highest tip of land. Here we rested on the cliff-surrounded foundation; brown, picturesquely opened hollows everywhere penetrate the tuffstone cliffs, and the clear water flows playfuJly in and out. At the outermost point, however, where the tower stands, and the cliff summit above us looks out over the boundless sea, the breaking waves bore us aloft and let us down with such happy, youthful strength that my living soul rejoiced! - Oh, thou happy life of the sea, ye ever-young floods, with what joy my spirit rests upon your silver tops and cradles itself in lovely crowding thoughts from one wave to the next!

We lay still for a good while in this manner, without rowing, in the midst ofthe festive ballet of the sea nymphs, who mischievously played around the cliff figures. Now we looked back on Posillipo, Nisida and the fold of V esuvius; now at the foothills of the Minerva, [p. 180] swelling powerfully in the floods, and at cloudy Capri; then ahead to Epomeo, the hero among island mountains! Then we rowed back, ftom one bay (Seebusen) to another; first through that ofMisenum; then, like sea birds, we passed Baiae's lovely coast.

I noticed the correspondence, or rather the consonance, of all these peninsulas. Their naked brows stand turned from the south to the west, and in front of each lie visibly torn-off rock fragments. So stand Punto di Posillipo, Pozzuoli, Colle di Pompeio, Cap Misenum, Cap Martino, turned to the same side, and the lovely sea-surfaces are charmingly enclosed between them. The new Bauli lies above the sea bay, on a heightened bank among grape arbors and elms, sheltered by two cliff-arms. We rowed as close as possible to the Bridge ofCaligula. Twelve tremendous columns supported airy arcades, traces of which are seen everywhere, and here and there fragments of the vaulting. So powerfully large are these indestructible piJIars of ancient times, [p. 181] that on one of them a very pretty, respectable honse stands isolated, looking fearlessly from the column of old times into the floods.

I did not hold out for the hours of the siesta in the inn of Pozzuoli. Everything disgusted me. Air, food, and the rascally fellows in and around the hostelry! It was as if all the gallows- physiognomies of the earth had been assembled here! As in Huon's and Amanda's fiery pit, there crowded before the windows of the house, "black-yellow, ragged, half naked rabble"; even the children, who otherwise are always and everywhere my heart's joy and refreshment, here bear even in tender youth the marks of base passion in their prematurely deformed features.

These children of the coastal dwellers, moreover, are complete amphibians; and one would think they were born under water, except that the figures of the mothers quickly banish any thought of nymph-like qualities. Assembling on a black rock on the lava seashore, ROMAN DIARY, II 51

[p. 182] the boys leaped far into the sea, head first - disappeared, and dove after the deep- glittering silver pieces that had been thrown in, while the little gudgeons (for it's as fishes that these children always seem to me most tolerable) swarmed around on the flat shore, in the shining floods. Among all the boys, I didn't see a single well-formed body which might have promised a youthfully noble aspect. Brown, thin, stocky and skinny of arm, the little ones were as neglect and bad nutrition had formed them; the growing ones short and with forcibly stunted, low-class figures. It was very funny when the little brown-yellow tykes, like smoked herring, scrambled onto the shore and then, tumbling around in the black law sand, glittered with the bright metallic particles, covered with sand and running around on the beach.

At 4 P.M. we were already seated in the cabriolet, and driving up the serpentine road to Pozzuoli's hill, up to the Solfatara. Now I stood on the white sulfur and [p. 183] alum floor of the oval natural arena, the meeting ground not of enfeebled little men and wild beasts - no! rather the ancient battleground of enraged and hostile forces, which, fused together in the bosom of the earth, could resolve their great conflict only through the labor pains of their fearful bearer and the destruction of the living fields that bloomed around her!

Round about us, the amphitheatric crater walls raised their white corpses' brows; but in the middle of the sulfur and alum ground grew cistus, spartium and mastic bushes in sweetest innocence, fragrantly over the mouth of Hell; and young chestuut trees grew joyfully upward. I always had the strange feeling that these tender children of the plant world were only transitory apparitions; like those artificial flowers which the chemist can summon out of teeming acids for an hour's life. Anxiously I watched to see whether they would not terminate their brief existence by returning their tender heads into the foaming birth-stuff

[p. 184] Hollowly the ground rang under each firm step; a five- to tenfold echo followed the thrown stone, rumbling out of the thinly crusted, Stygian deep; a glowing sulfurous breath (though never a burning sulfur smell, disseminating sulfuric acid) rose out of all the cracks and crannies; almost visibly, the shining sulfiJr-flowers at the openings crystallized before our eyes. We now approached the main hearth of the old volcano, where a deep cauldron, as in Macbeth's magic kettle, boils, hisses and bubbles. One hears and feels the working in the interior ofthe rocks, before which the boiling pool deepens. Billish sulfur-flames flicker above the kettle. I'd like to be for once in the Solfatara on a real dark night, when all these fire-eyes which are dazzled by the bright daylight would be shining; I am sure that the fire-tongues then protrude from every crack, and that little flames flicker over the arena in a magical dance, like salamanders, in airy choirs. [p. 185] I breathed so easily again in the pure volcanic air, and I feel so at my ease in the fiery air, as though I were myself a salamandress.

The descent from the monntain is a real delight. We first visited the ancient amphitheater of old Pozzuoli. It was very large and, by my estimate, only one-fourth smaller than the Coliseum. The arena is now a pleasant wine garden, sheltered like a secret valley by the gigantic walls, and the blue atmosphere, like a shimmering carpet, sinks down in friendly wise into the powerful round. ROMAN DIARY, II 52

The view descending the mountain changes with every step, from beauty to splendor! But on the little cliff projection behind the cathedral church of PozzuoJi, all beauty, splendor and majesty are merged as in a single point. There I floated, qlrivering with joy, above the floods, between sky and sea, the coasts and islands - thither, thither! Until the [p. 186] pinion of the soaring Psyche sank, and, ab! the fettered one again felt herself hard bound to the barren rock of the present. ROMAN DIARY, II 53

BRUN95N, continued VL

TRIP FROM NAPLES TO VIETRI AND SOJOURN IN THE LA CAVA VALLEY.

May 30,1796.

[p. 189] On the way through Portici, Resina and Torre del Greco, the traveler has little enjoyment, since he is continually shut in by walls and shrouded in dust. With amazement we looked once more at the lava of Torre del Greco. The view ofthe Carnaldolensian Cloister is remarkable; it lies on the small green hill, on the slope ofVesmus, like an island surrounded by lava streams, and looks cheerfully into the distance, down upon the sea and the coasts and islands. Nearby rests the charming little bay between the seams of the mountain and the steep harbor of Castellammare, near where Stabio lies. We drove right across the old lava field of 1763. It is monstrously large, deep, wide and high, and [p. 190] flowed right down into the sea. To witness a lava stream entering the sea, with the river of flames" I would give three months of my life! On this black lava desert the green tufts were already blooming splendidly, with golden blossoms of the hope of newly bursting life. Dreadful, ITom this side, is the view of the ashen head, stiffening like that of the Medusa! Here the mountain poured the greater part of its glowing streams from deserts down into deserts.

Torre dell' Annunziata is a considerable little town, and lies on the extensive tongue of land so that one looks diagonally over to Castellammare and its high-bordered and deeply jagged cliff-mountain. In the bay lies a little islet with the fortress. The whole locality is remarkable, and any description becomes understandable only with the aid of a map. The fruitfulness of this volcanic hill land is very great, and stands in enduring tense contrast with the Hell above.

We now caught sight, in vineyards to the left beneath a chain of hills, of the grave of Pompeii; but I drove peacefully [p. 191] past, intending to see the tomb of antiquity with diligence, and the wonders ofPaestum and Baiae in safety, in the cooler autumn season, where I still planned to remain among Parthenope's magic fields. Fate, however, had decided matters otherwise! We had a view of the theater and the barracks from the highway above. But the severe heat robbed us of any thought of lingering between these sun-irradiated, ashen walls.

Beyond Pompeii, where one leaves the extended foot ofVesmus and the bordering sea, Campania's smiling plain opens more freely, fresher and more invitingly! And after one has endured sixteen miles of heat between dust and walls, one begins to breathe more freely. Never has a rural scene enchanted me more than the lovely little valley ofScaffaca, with the village of the same name. Ripening rye and wheat swayed [in the breeze]. The lovely hemp plant covered the fields in a jlricy green; the beauteous Prato with purple of Sidon; lupine, beans, maize, swelled [p. 192] and waved luxuriantly in happy confusion. On the other side, between high, untrimmed elms, the green grape-heaven was spread out, and our delightful road was shaded on ROMAN DIARY, II 54

both sides by the most beautiful Lombardy poplars, between whose trembling leafage the grape vines extended their flexible arms and bound the straight trunks in neighborly fashion; a sweet picture of friendly sociability!

Sideways, stolen glances open toward blue-enshrouded mountains. The slopes of these coastal ranges, which we see on the right, are covered stepwise with grapes, grain and meadowland; villages lie or hang upon them, and the parish belfries peep out of the green. The higher clefts and steeper cliff-faces are covered with dark oak and shimmering, cool night chestnut woods, reaching sky high; only the naked peaks thrust sharp outlines into the blue aether. Behind Scaffaca, a fast-running brook, the first flowing water since Naples' Sebetho, refreshes the peaceful lowlands. Ever more delightfully [p. 193] unfold these Campanian ; ever more nobly rises the surrounding wreath of hills; ever more varied are the glimpses into the expiring mountain chains of the Abruzzi in the north, Puglie in the east, and, before us in the southern distance, Salerno's clouded hills.

Our drivers announced to us the midday halt for the entire group -- but rest, only for its four- legged section. In the miserable dram-shop, in the middle of a field, where it pleased them to halt, the one room was occupied by the silkworms; anyone who knows the exhalations of this populace during their caterpillar life, and even in their sylphlike state, will understand that we left the accommodation entirely to them.

My traveling companions established themselves between the horse-stall (which, incidentally, here in the country, actually and figuratively, is usually a pigsty) and the pond, on a few benches in the front part where there were still clear traces of a slaughterhouse. I escaped [p. 194] the whole business [by settling) in the thin shadows of some elm trees near the ditch at the roadside, where I patiently ate eggs, oranges, bread and cheese, and drank some of friend Heigelin's Madeira. As a spice, the dust of passing vehicles was not lacking. A troop of halfnaked beggar children soon joined me, and I shared with them.

A peasant woman came up and invited me to climb over the fence into her meadow, which was cool. - But she found my spot too hard on the ground, the good woman, and soon came her little daughter with a chair and rug, which she carefully leaned against an elm tree, spread out the rug, and so invited me to a siesta, which did not amount to much, since the anxious soul did not leave me but kept her eye on me continuously. Her daughter, a girl of thirteen years, carried the whole heaven of Campania in her wonderfully beautiful eyes, through whose deeply shadowed lashes streamed a fire gently damped by mildness of heart! Such an eye, in this shadowy setting, is as common here as it is rare in the North. [p. 195] She was spinning on the distaff in the manner of southern countries. Charlotte took a lesson in this pleasant work from the delightful creature, whom I would gladly have given her as a permanent playmate.

We were obliged to travel farther before the cooling, which here awaits the sea breeze from the Bay, because we actnally have no permanent quarters, and being equipped only with a ROMAN DIARY, II 55

few recommendations from Naples, I am hoping that if the hostelry at Vietri is too bad we can be accommodated in La Cava.

The valley floor narrows in the neighborhood ofNucera. High and variously shaped hills surround us ever more closely; in the foreground, the pyramidal form predominates with extreme regularity, and I thought I saw the Pyramid of Cestius, in hugely enlarged form, in one of these apparent rubbish heaps; black woods clothed it up to the dark slrffimit, which is inhabited by a hermit. These hills seem to me to be of a calcareous nature, and in the [p. 196) heights the abrupt declivities incline to the vertical.

In the little town of Camerelle, I was struck by the teeming population, in the romantic situations of these peacefully encircled depths. Noticeable in the nearby hills is the lack of water; but this dryness is characteristic ofItaly's limestone mountains. Our highway accommodates itself magnificently to the twists and turns of the hills, and the most delightful lookout points change at every moment; the huge mountain chain on both sides stands firm and commanding. But these wonderful pyramidal hills appear like movable stage props, and move now here, now there with every turn in the road; life breathes everywhere. The hillsides are splendidly green, and the more tender green of the grain fields, the vineyards and meadows protrudes from the valleys and extends upward into the shadow of the dark mountain peaks. Little towns, villages, cloisters rest on the free platforms among the hills, hang on the slopes, and display themselves near the summits. Often, too, [p. 197) the noble bllilding of a fine cloister looks over the precipice and down into deep abysses. And now we turn into the magical valley of la Cava, which is merely driven through by travelers heading for Paestum. Here immediately on the left lies a nice little town called Preato; its little white houses are charmingly aligned like a ribbon on the mountain's green foot.

How magically this splendid double row of mountains is disposed for viewing; how secretly the valley floor rests in the peace of the depths! There ahead of us lies the chief town of the valley, Cava Nuova, hidden in gardens; and there, far off and high above, the famous old abbacy of Cava, founded by the first king of the Lombards. In heights and depths, a population of24,OOO people affectionately spreads over the whole lovely little land. Four pyramidal mountains identifY the heavenly quarters, though in a rather diagonal layout. These high guideposts of the air thrust heavenward either bare rock-summits, like [p. 198] the Liberatore in the south, or the deep night of primeval woods. On each eagle's eyrie stands a fur-seeing cloister, or lives a hermit. Menacingly, the long western side of the valley (which extends from north to south) is flanked by two powerfully spreading mountain chains. Apparently their summits are linked by a Daehriieken (in Savoy one would say Col [pass, ]), and their feet appear rooted on a single base. The first is rough St. Angelo, heaped up in towering, vertical masses; the second is the wild and deeply split Finestra. Swiss forms beneath Hesperia's heaven!

In the little town of Cava, through which the road passes, we stopped a moment to see Don Giovene, to whom we had been recommended, and found ourselves in a family of good ROMAN DIARY, II 56 looking and well-to-do people who were taking their midday rest in the little orange-scented garden. They give me little hope of finding an accommodation in Vietri; but encouragement to come back here if unsuccessful; [p. 199] but I am foJlowing the sea like a shorebird, and on Friend Domeyer's orders may choose yon, charming Cava! as my nest only in case of extreme necessity.

We then drove farther; the two miles from la Cava to Vietri disclosed more charm, beauty and splendor than days' journeys in the prosaic nature of the lowlands. The picturesquely laid-out road proceeds on the belt of gently raised chalk hills, deeply cleft on our side. The eagle's mount in the southeast (called il Sante Liberatore [sie]) fonns the boundary between la Cava and Vietri; we drive beneath overhanging rock masses in a green cleft valley, shaded by a changing profusion of all kinds of trees. Down on the right, immediately adjoining la Cava, is a second Cava, where fine houses stand around a body of water with a mill, and which is called Valle deJIe Moline. To the left is a wild little valley called Ponte Sordo. The fonner opens a perspective view of the sea between overgrown cliffsides; the latter loses itself in emerging hillsides. And now we have [p. 200] passed beneath the hill, and the town of Vietri lies on the edge of the high seashore; bold is the view to the south onto the broad sea; shuddering the view downward into a narrow shadow harbor, opposite which a rough and wild mountain coast is darkened by towering cliffs - only Vietri adorns the other side, placed on a green height among orange and olive groves.

Now there was no possibility of remaining at the inn - its uncleanliness offended every sense! The host's demands for this dwelling, for every detail, exceeded all belief; the vermin drove me from one corner to another - I fled back to Cava! Oh woe! Here the inn was a complete Hogarthian caricature of the one in Vietri. Exhausted by the heat of the day, dispirited, desperate, I wanted to drive straight back to Naples - but first to greet the friendly Don Giovene. The latter did not want to let me travel, by any means. "He knew a good accommodation, only a bit lonely, [p. 201] up above the town on the hill; Filangieri lived there two years." With every word my heart beat higher with joy and reviving hope. "The owner is a friend in Naples; but he [Don Giovene] has the key; he will provide beds and what is necessary until I have rented it and come to an agreement with the owner; now I must refresh and restore myself while he makes the necessary arrangements." I was deeply touched by the goodness and the simplicity with which it was exercised, and thankfully accepted everything. At twilight the dear man personally conducted us to our dwelling. Never was r more delighfully surprised! A splendid house, reached from the town by a formal elm and grape garden, lies at the foot of Finestra at a gentle altitude, looking far across the whole valley, like an island in the waves of fertility! And this was the so modestly announced "emergency accommodation."

"Let us only not be thrown out again by the owner," [p. 202] I cried; "that is my only fear!" " Signora! E galant-huomo il amieo mio!" the good old man replied, All tiredness had vanished - I breathed insatiably the cool atmosphere of this herbally spiced valley air in all the open vestibules of the airy house, and luxuriated in the fullness of this most beautiful valley in the world. The twilight lingered long in the reflection of the clouds - and when, around ROMAN DIARY, II 57 midnight, they brought the evening meal and the beds, I felt that I needed no more nourishment except this air, and no rest except that of my mind.

May3!.

I spent the morning qlrietly, tired from yesterday's heat and all the adventures we had been through, in enjoying the delightful views from all four sides of my free dwelling. What a green covers these fields! How tender and fresh! Everything is fully unfolded, and every leaf stands up with [p. 203] its own charm. Freely the vine-tendrils sway over one another in all directions beneath the tall elms; and as I drove here yesterday from Cava, it all seemed to me a fairy vision, invoked by an invisible protectress for my refreshment after the tedious day. But there still lies the magic scene; and the dew-besprinkled green tendrils sway in the morning breeze, and I still see Albano's urchins mischievously swinging and chasing one another on rainbow wings among the vaulted branches. Tall grain stalks wave around our house between green fences, from which rise handsome oaks, elms, hazels, and single pines in delightful groups. Up and down sweeps the view into the life of the wiley, and the loneliness of the mountain clefts in the heights; and the mild blue heaven rests so gently above everything; and the morning clouds play in the gray fissures of the Finestra, one of which, dividing its summit, is a real military highway ofthe clouds.

[p. 204] Toward evening we drove in the coolness by way ofVietri to Salerno. Vietri lies on the rocky foot of the Liberatore, which separates the coast from the Cava valley and extends right into the sea. No contrast can be more striking than that between this and the other side of this typical calcareous mountain. Cava lies in tlle deep lap of cool rusticity (Landberge). Here flourish all the deciduous trees that I have seen in our islands, in Germany and Switzerland; from the willow and beech, all the trees and bushes up to the chestnut. But the southern trees, which received me already in Como, at the foot of the Transalpine Alps, and in Languedoc and Provence - the olive, the laurel, the pine, and the noble gold-frllits, seldom appear in la Cava; only perhaps single specimens by the houses in gardens. A cool, pure, rather sharp air blows through the valley; everything is jlricy, green and fully arrayed. (voll bekleidet).

We turn with the angle of the mountain, on the free southern side. Vietri lies on [p.205] barren rocks beneath olive trees, which veil its gray strata with pale yellowish green; and oranges and lemons send their fragrance from the abrupt shore down into the sea. One drives through Vietri and remains on the excellent highway, which runs like a girdle over the spurs of the Liberatore, plunging deep into the sea on the right and climbing high in the air on the left. The fullness of the sea here opens into the splendid Poseidonian bay (im prachtvollen poseidonisehen Meerbusen), which, free of islands, bathes the white-shimmering coast; Salerno lies delightfully blrilt down to the sea, overtopped by the high cliff-mountain from which the rock-hewn fortress looks down menacingly. Above the town runs a little green wiley in the lap of the mountain; here rice cultivation predominates, and the marshy fields send unhealthy airs down on the city. ROMAN DIARY, II 58

Beyond Salerno one looks into the distant lowlands of the Principate of Citra, along the plain ofEboli and the irregular coast to beyond Paestum; behind which the hills, which have retreated landward, again approach the sea, [p. 206] projecting high headlands and mountain brows into the floods. The splendid Poseidonian sea is here pressed into such a sickle shape that these high cliff shores appear penetrated by clouds, seemingly cut off and throning it high above the clouds like elevated cliff islands. There in the southeast, everything shone with the brightness of the sun, still lingering on far-off white mountain peaks of the Apennines; and sea and land, valley and mountain, lay there cheerful and smiling like youth's beckoning future. We turned for the homeward drive. (We had lingered midway bewteen Vietri ansd Salerno, where the beauty of the whole had delightfully stopped and held us.) There lay Vietri, faithfully in early shadow, and above the deep little harbor the high and awe-inspiring coast, which, reaching far into the sea, rests beneath wild jagged peaks; the outer side of this chain approaches thrOugll secret valleys and meets the coastal hills where Amalfi lies, and then, with the forehill of Massa, the Bay of Naples enters that charmed circle.

[p. 207] In ten hours' time one can travel from Vietri to Naples by water; this would be my preference for the return journey. We now rolled comfortably in the light Neapolitan vehicle, drawn by the nimble little horses, back to our domestic la Cava. And I blessed anew the fate that had shaken me from its wing just there in the peaceful valley! For, to give expression to my heart's meaning, I care as little for splendid views as I do for splendid residences. To live in the peace of the valley is my wish, but close to the free heights; there the heart is so gently lulled to sleep, and Psyche sinks her wings a little - then, out to the heights! One lives best on the slope.

June 1.

The galant-huomo, the owner of this house, arrived from Naples; and it turned out to be the same man, and the same house, in which my good [Signora] Filangieri had not wanted me to live because of her anger over the shamelessness of the stipulations! These the man of honor now increased by one-third; for he had me tight (vest), and my delight over this dwelling unfortunately spoke so loudly from my eyes that while I was very carefully speaking to him, he actually increased his demands by another quarter. - That is, he had demanded of [Signora] Filangieri 36 ducats a month. From me he immediately demanded 50, and during the conversation, encouraged by some charmed glances on my part, raised it to 65 ducats. - Then I took courage! - That I would have to pay for my good fortune in having landed here was nothing! - I called my coachman, with the order to harness up - offered 40 ducats - or offered compensation for the two days' possession, and threatened immediate departure - and we were in the right! I have always done it this way in Italy. It is only through brevity and determination that one comes to a conclusion. For this, I got the existing furniture, beds, kitchenware, etc. What was lacking was rented from Vietri, so that for 60 ducats a month, I [p. 209] admittedly lived far better than I needed to; for the house is large, and nobly built, and with stalls and carriage space at my disposaL Ah! Here lived Pilangieri for two ofthe happiest years of his short and famous life, in domestic peace. I am writing here on the spot where he worked for the ROMAN DIARY, II 59

good of coming generations! Here my good brother was happy, at the side of the so tenderly loved and lovable noble friend! Here around the cordial fireside assembled in autumnal hours the nobler spirits from Naples, for friendly conversations closed by a rustic meal; here beneath this hospitable roof, the fire of southern spirits was united with the cordiality of German ways. Tom is the fair wreath, since the shining star set too soon for his fatherland! - Filangieri's friends now wander dispersed, or languish in state prisons! - and the Genius of the land mourns its most loved son.

I have very happy morning hours here. While Karl and Charlotte (p. 210] take their early lessons, I wander or drive out alone into the universal green of the beloved valley. There are few carriageable roads, apart from the main highway, and they run only a short distance sideways to the foot of the mountains, where nunlerous steep patllS begin, mostly following dried watercourses. Today I drove crosswise through valley and town and up to the church ofSt. Nicolo, which lies on an open height above its northeru end; here there is a magnificent view, but the sun was already too strong. The town is very lively, and the inhabitants look healthy and prosperous. The provisions are good, and cheaper than in any city in Germany. This valley with the surrounding hills' and the famous old abbey is a bishopric numbering 24,000 souls. The town has 12,000 inhabitants, and lies half in the valley and half on the green slope of one of the above- mentioned conical hills, called the St. Ajutore. The [p. 211 J other half of the inhabitants are pleasantly scattered like herds in the small white huts in vineyards and fields, in heights and depths.

Remarkable is the formation of the double rows of hills that surround this peaceful bottom, whose greatest width is some I 1/4 miles, while its length is 5 to 6 miles. Within the side-hills, which in part rise from adjoining and entirely fertile heights and in part seem to grow out of the valley, I was always struck afresh by four pyramids which stand almost in the four quarters of the heavens and which constantly attract the eye by the easy symmetry of their form and placement and the variability of their covering.

In the southeast stands, as boundary between Caw and Vietri, the high pointed limestone cliff of St. Liberatore, dividing heaven and climate with its eagle's head; a hermitage lies on the whitish cliff-crown.

In the east, directly opposite my dwelling, rises above the little town the [p. 212] the rocky pyramid dedicated to St. Ajutore; in the rocks above is an old fortification and cbapel.

In the northeastern depth of the valley, a little outside of its proper boundaries, stands the sharply defined and darkly wooded pyramid ofSt. Martino.

In the southwest, near the end of the long valley, there rises abruptly, and also wood- covered, la Croce Santa, likewise in conical form. In the south, the vaJley is tightly closed by the

'Formerly the land of the old Pisentines. ROMAN DIARY, II 60

Liberatore. - But far sunken to the north stands in the depths outside the valley a black pyramidal mountain, a place of pilgrimage called Castello di Mater-Domino. The Castello bears airy arches (Hallen) of the rllned fortress picturesquely in the air. In the west toward the south, the sturdy mountains of St. Angelo and Finestra shelter the valley. An earthquake tore the naked rocky body of the former, splitting it into a dreadful gorge, which, gradually narrowing to a crevice, separates one-third of the height of the mouutain, which I estimate at over three thousand feet.

[p. 213] In the milder light of afternoon we all drove up to the terrace ofthe church ofSt. Nicolo. Indescribably beautiful is the view into the northern distances toward Naples, where, in gentle wavelike lines and veiled by evening mists, seven mountain chains of Campania and Abruzzo piled themselves up, woven, flooded and permeated by harmollions color toneswhich concealed nothing, but baptized everything with gracious charm! We descended into the valley, beneath the grapevines and elms, and wandered to the left in narrow paths between high shocks of grain. The pleasant building style of Italy beautifies each field! How prettily lie the white Casali's6 of the country dwellers, the little white masserie7 tinted with the purple of the setting sun, which soon disappears behind the jagged rocks of the Finestra, and soon shines out again with ever deeper light from the gilded green of the thick chestnut woods.

June 2.

Early today I made a trip above the western side of the valley, where my delightful dwelling lies on the green seam of the Finestra. The higher one climbs among the vineyards., the more pleasantly the mountain country unfolds itself Closer to the town, every masseria is anxiously surrounded by walls; here one steps freely over little ditches, from one garden into the next, and everything breathes qlriet and the security of innocence. The little cabins lie picturesquely in the shadow of large fig trees, on which the vines, with their tendrils, form cool arbors over the frontal spaces. Large chestuut and oak trees grow out of the hedges which separate the little properties in all directions, and distribute everywhere attractive patches of dense greenery. The cultivation of the land is unsurpassably painstaking. Never did I see rye (here called Grano germano), barley and wheat stand so high, the already heavy ears so full, and so entirely free of weeds; the grain is already ripening, and over it still gleams [p. 215] the tenderest spring green, in the light garlands of the vines, and in the leafage of the tall elms, mulberries, poplars and the tops of the ash-trees. Beans," lupines and Prato are in their second blooming; the Turkish grain (Tiirkenkorl~), melons, pickles, (.'U<.:'Ueelli and other cucurbitaceous plants, and young kidney beans (Brechbohnen) stand hands-high for the summer harvest and nourishment, and friendly Horen dance an uninterrupted round-dance!

6Country cottages.

7Grape-arbor shacks.

8Those called horse-beans in Germany. ROMAN DIARY, II 61

The customs of these valley-dwellers appear to be as gentle as their fuces; the women age early due to too hard work. Among the young girls I saw Greek profiles. The countryman here is not a landowner, but only a tenant farmer, since the owners of the land live in the cities, many of them in Naples. A poor old woman whom we visited in her hut told me that she had to pay 7 per cent rental fee. As the value of the land increases through careful cultivation, the landlord raises [p. 216] the rent, but the poor countryman remains ever impoverished despite his industry. Happily the land is covenanted for 10-20 or even 30 years, but the time grows ever shorter. I came finally, always on my donkey {aufmeinem Eselein steigend}, to the foot ofMt. St. Angelo, which stretches its stiff rock prongs out of a thick mantle of woods. From Mt. Finestra angry torrents flow down after heavy rain; their deep, now dry beds are all filled with limestone debris. The water thundering down from that dreadful cleft in the Finestra has more than once laid waste the blooming mountain land, and once mined the house in which I am living, and done great damage in the town.

Today was the Corpus Christi festival of this valley, and in the evening a solemn procession with the Host makes a pilgrimage to the chapel of the Patron Saint on Mount Ajutore. This mountain stands isolated above the town, and exhibits the construction of its calcareous cliffs; but it is also built up to a respectable altitude. We drove [p. 217] somewhat upward through the town; then the unfortunately still weak patient mounted the donkey, and the still cheerful society proceeded on foot. The narrow way leads around the cone-shaped hill, and we were soon riding on the side that is turned away from the valley, on rocky, uphill zigzag paths; protected from the burning heat by the mountain's own shadow, and shaded by the charming wild shrubbery, in which I first descried the marma-ashtree. The view downward into the (to us) new side valleys, where green is shadowed in green, and little hamlets with pretty churches preen themselves on the heights, surrounded by smiling grace in tbe lap ofmra1 peace, was heart- rejoicing. More and more, the green, much subdivided mountains open themselves; in distant clefts lie still more little vintners' huts, or peasant shanties; everything is mild and cheerful, and rests securely under the protection of the higher mountains, which in the east separate the fruitful valley of la Cava from the Prinzipata ultra. Wine, grain and meadowland succeed one another on the mountainsides; [p. 218] then the shadow offtesh groves crowns the summit. The lovely mixture of colors in shades of green; the dark masses of the shadows of higher mountains thrown into the clefts were most picturesque. Well-being and vigorous life in this fortunate region seems to extend into the most hidden mountain crannies.

Halfway up the mountain, we caught sight of the sea ftom its ftee slope, through that perspective valley cleft of Valle Molare, which opens upon Vietri between the two fantastically formed mountains of Liberatore and Filliesco, allowing the eye to glide freely in the undulant blue. Around us the happy people of la Cava, and those of the neighboring land and sea towns, fluttered up and down from all sides, emerging from between rocks and out of groves; in bright holiday attire, adorned with red, blue and yellow silk.. The dresses, often of scarlet and decorated with blue ribbons, the hair (unfortunately) powdered and tied with blue ribbons, or ROMAN DIARY, II 62 hung in a nee [p. 219] according to Italian custom. We saw very handsome girls; not only did fresh country blood color cheeks and lips - although this too glows channingly beneath the brownish touch of the warm heaven, outshining our dull northern coloring - it was a higher beauty, in the formation of the solid parts. Two women especially struck me: a young girl, beautiful, gentle, with a ptrre profile, similar to the daughters of Niobe, and a young woman, a splendid fiery bacchante. The men are relatively less strong and handsome.

We came now to the brow of the mountain, and suddenly saw our own dear great valley opened anew beneath us; we sought and found our peaceful dwelling at the foot of Finestra, now standing across from us; and then looked back into northern distances, in order to catch a glimpse of the summit of Vesuvius tuwering above the heaped-up mountain chains - but in vain! A carpet of clouds had rolled down in front of him; Voi vedete oggi if principio del mondo, ma non [p.220] if Vesuvio," a cheerful countryman said to me. Here, in the mild mountain air, aromatic herbs bloom between the bare rock summits: lavender, thyme, Meiran, balm-mint (Melisse), the varieties of mint, bushes of white roses, and mastix balsamized the air. Many plants which looked as if I knew them only from our hothouses were also visible, but still without blossoms.

We were now, after an hour's ride, at the summit of the mountain, where a little Castello crowns the pyramid, and a large scaffolding has been erected for the evening fireworks. They give this mountain an altitude of 1200 feet above the wiley; according to my eye-measure, which seldom deceives me, it would appear to be more rather than less.

The scene up here was very cheerful and lively. The men climb around in the high scaffolding, putting things in order while little children also play in it. Between the flowery crags lie the youth of both sexes, established in happy groups. Flowery wreaths, ice cream, cake, and other [p. 221] refreshments are offered for sale, and the children greeted with cheers the faithful gingerbread, which had followed them from the Sound to the Apennines. On the rough slope of the mountain the youths stood in rows and fired salvos from their carbines into the valley, to be answered by diverse mountain echos.

From the other side we looked into the boundless sea. Deep down to the left, Salerno rested with its high-throned mountain formation, behind which rise high calcareous mountains, shining white and reddish, and penetrated by bright douds; far off embraces itself the coast of Paestum, and Poseidon's harbor rests mirroring within. How gentle is the far-off blue of the sea, and how refreshing the green of the nearby valley!

At sunset we were down below again, accompanied by the flashes and reports of the carabineers. These were soon answered from the valley by little cannon, an activity in which the nephew of my landlord, who occupies a side wing of the house, particularly distinguished himself.

9Called Resilla. ROMAN DIARY, II 63

[p. 222] It was now, only with the dusk, that the real festival began; and never had I seen the like, in which nature and art joined friendly hands to produce a really magical result. I quite consoled myself for not having seen in Rome the fiery pinwheel rising from Hadrian's tomb and the illumination of St. Peter's dome. Those things my imagination can show me; but this night scene was so strangely venturesome, magical and charming at once, that I shall never lose the feeling of it.

Night Festival ofSt. Ajutore of La Cava.

From the free height of our house we now oversaw, by sinking twilight and from our windows and balconies, the whole wIley and all the surrounding hills. As soon as it grew dark, the whole town of Cava was suddenly illuminated; whereupon the whole solemn Mount Ajutore suddenly shone with a thousand pleasure- fires; and now, as night sank into the valley, [p. 223] friendly lights appeared in the most remote clefts and on the steepest heights. The hamlets on the mountainsides, the cloisters on the peaks, displayed their airily shimmering architecture from out of the remote darkness. High as though from heaven, the fires of the hermits shone from the dark forest-pyramid hills into the valley. This shimmering, shining brightuess was gently broken by the vine-garlands, which, melting into greenish gold, changed the whole scene to a fairy garden. The valley resounded with the exultation ofthe people and the constantly recurring, joyful volleys. From the five eagles' peaks rose single rockets, like bold thoughts oflonely spirits, into the dark blue night aether. Yes, even on the wild Berghorn, above the dreadful fissure ofFinestra, a lonely joy-light glimmered at an altitude on,ooo feet, and not far above it twinkled the evening star.

And now there wound, half visible and half concealed, with song and shout, in the candlelight, a long [p. 224] procession up the rough mountainside, ever more thickly sparked, lightened and blitzed all round with rockets, firecrackers and fire-fountains. Suddenly, all the mountain fires, the joyful shots fell silent; a solemn stillness reigned in the valley and on the hills. Then, on the highest peak of the mountain, four immense fire-wheels suddenly began to turn, silent but with lightning speed. Out of the whirling fire-wheels, as though borne by unseen spirits, appeared an altar surmounted by the high Cross. Gentle and bluish like the trembling starlight was the shining of the high altar, streaming downward from the noctnrnal heaven as from the sanctuary of nature. As the Cross appeared high in the air, the people threw themselves to the ground on knees and faces. Gentle, lovely music rang down from the mountain above, and reverence and euphony streamed into the hearts of the spectators, inflaming the enraptured prayerful ones. So bright was the gently radiant light of the altar that windows and columns threw shadows into the rooms, [p. 225] as does the half moon. We scarcely breathed in our sweet wonderment! Five to six minutes the vision lasted, and then suddenly disappeared back into the night, whereupon a general salvo of all guns and canons concluded the festival.

June 3. ROMAN DIARY, II 64

My birthday. It was a dark, rainy day, and the air was so harsh that I felt just as in Zealand and at home! Also, I lived entirely in the bosom of my own family, who also lovingly celebrate this day. My heart, with melancholy longing, dwelt on the thought of my true mother, my faithful siblings, my beloved little children; and when the two of them who are here crowned me with myrtle, the lovely gifts of the Hesperian heaven, and loaded me with golden apples, the tear of separation fell on the fragrant wreath.

June 4.

The fine weather has returned, and everything shines as though never before seen. We drove [p. 226] via Vietri to Salerno. One can never take this road too often. Every hour of the day adorns the details ofthis noble stage with new charm! We went on foot along the magnificent highway - I on the massive breastwork that separates the road from the rocky depths of the seashore, over which it lightly floats; for only there is the view outward, upward and downward complete, unlimited and grand! This road is a magnificent work; for it is in part hewn out of the chalk strata of the Liberatore. To the left the cliff-masses rise powerfully, and on the right are the depths over which I wander, where the sea now breaks at the foot of unyielding cliffs, and now the green flood invades the frightening depths of little rocky bays. I could not grow tired of my lonesome way. To wander securely on the verge of abysses gives an exalted feeling, physically as well as morally. A pleasant world of flowers, each kind distributed as in small communities, adorned the barren rocks above and beneath the way with the liveliest [p. 227] mingling of colors. The golden Spartium, the large Valeriana rubra, showed themselves in full bloom and in shining bushes. Antirrhinum majus, Reseda alba stood next to immense umbels of the wild fennel and cherbil. Shrubs of Cytis1/s and Col1/thea shimmered, close now to the waves, now to the heavens. In high clefts I saw blooming myrtle; for the tender myrtle loves the rocky ground and the sea air.

Salerno is densely populated, and on the whole well built; but the masses look pale and aufgedunsen, and the streets are very narrow while the honses are very tall, something I observed in all the towns of southern Europe begirming with Toulouse and Montpelier, the cause of which therefore is perhaps not alone the age of these cities, but also their shadow-producing bllilding style.

The promenade in the harbor of Salerno, beneath the high elms, is very handsome - but even more handsome is the quite open seashore behind the town, beneath those picturesque groups [p.228] (1 think) by Riistern, trnder which I lingered today for the first time, and so often during my stay here, with shuddering delight.

This bank is so flatly pressed into place that at high tide the rivers flowing from the country are dammed by the sea waves and pressed back to form those swampy plains which make the whole region from Salerno to Paestum so unhealthy. At this time the bank was dry, and I saw from the vaulted fullness of the Bay the long foaming breakers as it were rolling down! The sky was full of hurrying clouds. On the right I looked up out of my depths on the ROMAN DIARY, II 65

powerful, heaped -up and squeezed-together mountain range of Salerno, Vietri and la Cava, whose piled-up profile rose into the clouds, and then in rough gradations plunges into the sea with the rock corner that separates the Salernitan and Neapolitan bays. This foreland which is visible from here is called Capo d'Orso. In the Alps I have seen infinitely higher, but never more [p. 229] boldly delineated mountains. These giants stare into heaven. Wildly fissured and sawtooth-edged are the tom peaks. Sudden cloud storms sweJled the sea; the noisy waves, almost overtaking us, drove us higher up the beach. Far off in the southeast, beneath a cheerful heaven, gleamed Paestum' s white coast; above Vietri, the rain streamed from a dark cliff bosom into sinister clefts; behind these clouds falls, from a sun's halo, prismatic light on the mountaintops of la Cava. Magic of the present and remembrance of this coast., made classical through history and the poets and artists of more recent times, surrounded me. In our dear valley we found the early dusk already sunken from tlle western hills, while in tlle northern distances the whole spectrum of an Italian evening lingered delightfully.

June 5-7.

These three days we had rough and rainy weather. But la C.ava is interesting [p. 230] even on less beautiful days. Cloud armies /Tom Finestra traveled across the valley, and hung upon the mountain strata. It seems to me that all of these mountain chains are built up vertically, and all parts break in pyramidal fashion, ifI may speak so of the principles of the mountainsides. Below in the valley the ground seems clay-like; all of the detritus in the stream beds is limestone. I am living in the fairy world of Ariosto, whose luxuriant imagination so often loses itself in the most vivid play of colors - but whose spirit never betrayed the higher beauty, as his heart never betrayed love. Sweet, bitter tears flowed today for Cetbin and Isabella!

Nature 10 feee E poi ruppe la Stampal

Nature made him And then broke the mold!

So one cries out delightedly with Isabella, enviable even in pain!

In the early hours I still found moments for small, lonely wanderings. To the left, behind the town of Cava is a deep-lying and [p. 231] delightfully wild little valley, named Ponte Sordo for a bridge over a meager brook; the vegetation here is everywhere fresh, but not luxuriant and rich as on the Alban Mountain. Handsome German oaks provide splendid shady places. The chestnut woods remain ever young, because they are cut down every eighteen years; the size of these youthful grove-members, and the number of tendrils emerging from a single trunk, bear wituess to the excellence of the ground and the inward vitality of the plant world in these not too warm, cool airs. On the slopes ofFinestra and St. Angelo I saw the huts of poverty in such enchanting locations, scattered beneath fig trees and thrusting muscatel vines, that my heart was touched and pressed itself to the lap of the gentle mother, who, after all, bestows on these good ROMAN DIARY, II 66 people that which no pressure can deprive them of These hut-dwelJers received me with idyllic simplicity and goodness. Unfortunately the most painful weariness can still be seen on me during every little walk, and the pallor of exhaustion on [p. 232] my cheeks was always noticed by these good people. Man and child, or little mother, busily placed a chair for me, and fresh figs or chestnuts appeared on the green leaf The little gift of appreciation was seldom accepted. I again suffer more here from a dry cough and chest pains. The beneficent Laudanum, taken after the warm bath, is then my only help. It does not prolong my sleep at all, and gives rest only through alleviation: and the next day I am ready for all activity. I say this earnestly, in order to combat a little with my feeble testimony the still prevalent prejudices against this pain- and anxiety- combating balsam. Rheumatic patients and those suffering from nervous tension will always find themselves relieved through the wise use of opium. This is the case with me. Ah! How often have I blessed the opimn, when every nerve became a pricking thorn; when from anxiety (Beklemmung) I could scarcely [p. 233] breathe, and then c.onvulsive (krampfigter) coughing threatened to tear open my breast!

June 8.

Today in a gentle afternoon light I visited the northern end ofla C

Before us from the other side of the valley of Mount St. Angelo, chestnut woods rise [p.234] grimly over the vertically pointed, pyramidal foothills; fleeing clouds pour streaming shadows on the lower slopes, and sunlight plays in the otherwise dark woods and mountain folds. This beautiful locality belongs to the hamlet of St. Lucie; no wheeled vehicle goes farther. We sought the cool of evening at the seaside below Vietri. On a projecting shore- cliff there stands a Casino, from whose garden and vestibule I enjoyed a sweet evening hour. On the right one looks down into the early darkening cliff-bosom ofVietri, along the dark cliff row from which the white bamlet ofRaiti hangs down picturesquely over the waves. The whole seacoast as far as Capo d'Orso is rongh, wild, jagged inward and outward, and the waves break loudly against the brown rocky shore; but the rough peaks stretch wild horns up into the clouds. Higher and sideways, I caught glimpses, through the perspective on the toot of Liberatore, ofthe small hamlet Vieni a Casa, lying so secretly embedded in the green - then downward, where [p. 235] Vietri's houses look into the deep green valley-cleft of Molin are, which extends outward from la Cava, with the brooklet that pours into the sea. These pleasant nature-labyrinths discover for me one secret little place after another; never have I seen such variously subdivided hills, and people everywhere nested in them like swallows. The open sea was pearl blue, and cheerful as the face of a friend. Beneath us the mariners drew huge nets onto the land with the ROMAN DIARY, II 67

evening catch. A group of forty to fifty curious idlers stood about; and my curiosity was also aroused. Slowly about eight to ten men drew the black net out of the floods - it was almost empty, and the expectations of all of us were disappointed!!

But ever more delightfully smiled the evening, ever sweeter smelled the oranges of the garden around me. High above the plain ofPaestum, the high ridges of the chalk mountains of Basilicata gleamed silver. A remote exposed mountainous territory, toward the borders of Calabria, rises ever higher in the twilight of cheerful distances. [p. 236] Darkening nearby are the green shore-flats behind Salerno, wrapped in early mists.

June 9.

I spent the entire morning strolling by myself; as soon as one leaves the town, little footpaths rise everywhere in cool shadows; since all the hedges are alive, it is green everywhere, and little groves of nut-trees and oaks are lightly dispersed Beneath these fair Avellino-nut [trees?], which always sit in groups of six or seven and therefore promise a sweet harvest, I read my Ariosto. What a masterpiece of soul's knowledge is Orlando's madness! First the long silence, then the complaints, then the blazing anger! I suddenly saw my peaceful grove uprooted before the rage of the powerful!

Here all the deciduous trees of Europe grow peacefully green together! Close to me creep and bloom shrubs of white roses, hazelnuts, Coluthea, hawthorn, lilacs and honeysuckle; maple, elms, oaks, Rilstern, willows, beeches, [p. 237] birches, chestnuts, aspens, poplars, and (mingling with the northern frllit trees) rare oranges, stone pines, laurels and cypresses offer the most lovely confusion from all parts of the earth. Very beautiful are the walnut trees, and the slender white oaks with the small and finely edged leaves. The leafage still shines in vernal beauty and plays in all nuances, mingled together by gentle breezes. The whole little countryside is a garden of Paradise.

We closed this day in the harbor of Salerno. Magnificently rises the town as one glides away from the bank.; close above it lies a cloister, serious in its nest of gray rocks and surrounded by olive trees. High above rises a crag in the rocky setting of the Castello. - The fruitful land extends agreeably around the town, up to the hills and down into the waves. To the left in front of the town, fine herds of cattle held their evening rest under those fine trees close by the sea, and the little fortress ofTorreone [p. 238] stands picturesquely on the round hill. From the bay we glimpse both horns of the large crescent moon; on the Naples side, the dark rocky point is called Capo d'Orso; in the south, the sun-swathed foreland is Cap Licoso. Splendidly rises between Salerno and Vietri, looming over the latter place, the boldly formed Liberatore. Its head stretches into the clouds, its feet are bathed by the sea; it is girdled by the people-bearing military highway. The color tints ofHesperian airs surrounded us with visible euphony; misty clarity hovers over the farthest shores, the new moon swims, sparkling with dew, in the aether. ROMAN DIARY, II 68

June 10.

To the right ofthe high bridge-dam which connects la Cava with Vietri (between which two towns a deep fissure would otherwise have been torn before the foundation of the Liberatore) there lies the deep little cliff valley called Val delle Moline, because two brooks there drive a number of mills; in the south this valley runs with [p. 239] the lmited brooks into the harbor ofVietri. We climbed down, and then saw above us the high chaussee, borne on arcades, which is a great work ofhurnankind; beneath the arcades there stream out ofthe green valleys two brooks which join in a right angle around the deep pivot of the Liberatore. I descended into the echoing depth, beneath the arcades, after one of the two little brooks; it slips down from Ponte Sordo clear and stiJl, overhung by slender whitewood (Weissholz), with scarcely noticeable current, a Lethe never breathed upon by the air. When one has gone through the arcades, one finds oneself in a busy little underworld. Here around the second brook, which rushes with fuller current from high wooded mountain clefts, a whole little town has settled, and the machinery of the water miJIs sounds dully through the depths. We foJlowed the brook uphiJl, on its wild bank on the right side of the wiley; on these lonely paths unveil themselves a thousand beauties of the kind that nature hides in her [p. 240] lap, and which one seeks in vain on the paved military roads of convenience. Here one had to ride fearlessly along the tom shore, often dismounting and proceeding on foot along the narrow slippery path; more often still to break a path between wild vine-tendrils.

Everywhere along these rocks, brooks gush forth and grottos have dug themselves out. One of the grottos was wide open; large stalactites hung like truncated columns from the high vaulting; water dripped heavily from every hanging rock tip, and fell resoundingly to the ground. Wild fig trees grew from the chalk breccia, where the cliff was not lined with tuft; wild vegetation hung down over the stalactites, and the sun glided in sideways through the magically iJluminated ehiaroscuro; with the turning brook at our feet, light and coolness trickled down into the valley. We rode ever higher after the steadily sinking brook, and soon we saw the narrow mouth of a deeper hollow; a full stream [p. 241] glided forward between luxuriant shadow plants; we crept in with difficulty; I never saw such a magic cave as this one - little niches of beautifully browned tuff had here been hollowed out on all sides with lovely natural fantasy; the tender veil of the sweet Adianthum hung down over it, and water sources rippled, pearled, dripped out of every niche, as out of the urns of invisible nymphs. A mossy bank leaned to the right against the cliff; there one looks out of the uncarmy darkness past treetops, and sees the heavenly blue without touching the earth. Nor did the lovely spot lack dedication; on a dry little spot right in the middle between two niches, as on a sacred hearth of the nymphs, a pair of birds had nested in the soft moss. Modestly they flew toward us, and five eggs lay in the nest. How doubly dear to me was this grotto! It became a temple of love, and lacked only a Gesnerlike shepherd pair as priests of this sacred domain. Will ever two happy and blameless lovers meet here? [p.242] High genius of nature and love, bring two pure souls together here one day; let them here feel for the first time the full harmony of being, without which the great harmony of all things remains ever hidden from us! ROMAN DIARY, II 69

We scrambled uphill on ever steeper rock shelves and on narrow paths. The valley sinks down and becomes a dark cleft, over which dark wood sides of the hills climb upward; I ride between blooming myrtle-Lentiseus and mastic shrubs; in the grass is the scent of spicy herbs. Karl fluttered about like a butterfly in this strange plant world, and Lotte clambered like a shegoat in search of enticing flowers. We now ride in a zigzag pattern, and suddenly the whole region appears to us like a tender miniature of our unforgettable Centowlli.1O The similarity was so striking that three witness agreed, Pohrt, Karl and 1.

We had now reached a resting place. A projection of the rocks forms a sharp [p.243] angle, around which the valley suddenly veers to the right into deep, wild woods where finally, high above wood, brook and rock, the abbey of La Cava lies unseen. In lovely meadows one sees over yonder the village [of] Campanile; sidewise above us, in garden and wood, [is] the pretty hamlet of Santa Maria del A vocata [sie]. In the background of the wiley depths, lonely little huts lie by a waterfall, above which rise wildly jagged, but aJways opulently verdant, mountain tips. High in the air rules the gray Finestra; deep below lies Valle Moline; fur off in the traversed hills the little town, at the foot of high-gleaming Liberatore.- Over purple-glowing foothills rises the wide quiet sea, Poseidon's coasts, and the reddish tinted mountain chain. Ah! the day sank, we had to leave. A secret uphill way [sieJ led us back to La Cava.

June II.

A few days agio I was driving in an open carriage on the great military road. An elderly cleric [p. 244] who met us suddenly stood still and cried out in joyful astonishment: Eeeo la sorella del Signore F ederigo! Often enough already I have been recognized in Italy by the similarity to my brother Miinter. We stood still; the friendly old man was the Gran Vicario ofla Cava, Don Carluzzi; a friend of Filangieri' s, with whom he often saw my good Fritz; a dear, true- hearted old man with a real Vicar (if Wakifield physiognomy. This man now accompanied me today on an honorable long-ear [mule or donkey] into that little Centovallinesque valley whose secrets I yesterday left with such reluctance. We rode back on the secret way as far as the parting place; but instead of following our yesterday's path in Valle Molina, we turned to the right and up to Maria del Avocata. From the village one immediately finds oneself on a rock corniche above the depths of a romantically broken valley cleft, which, as in Centolvalli, is brushed into inward and outward pointing angles, around whose bases a rapid and mshing (p. 245] mountain brook hastens along a zigzag charmel, through the thick green of woods and shrubbery, into the open Valle Molina. One rides for three-quarters of an hour to the end of the little valley, where it ends in a rocky gorge through which a fine waterfull plunges out ofthe mountain. All these chalk cliffs had been permeated by stalactite water; the large masses, striped black and white in horizontal bands and crowned with the variegated green of the shrubbery, offer from a distance their extremely pictnresque parts as one nears the end of the valley, passing on hanging and lonely paths above the darkness of the wooded clefts.

lOA valley in the Italian-Swiss circumscription of Locarno. ROMAN DIARY, II 70

Above and below the waterfall is a finely opened stalactite cave, supported by a stalactite pillar, and adorned with loges at the sides; on the hanging tips of the stalactites hung a delicate net of light green, and decorated with the violet blooms of Antirrhinum hedera folia, trembling with the breath of gentle air and the constantly pearJing water drops; around the grotto were green [p. 246] myrtle bushes and slender young manna-ashtrees. Next to the waterfall was bllilt a little mill with a hut, in one of the most charming places I have ever seen. The hut was secluded but open, and only a few snow-white doves confidently passed in and out; seeming to us like the gentle geniuses of the lovely hermitage.

From the harmonious ehiaroscuro of the grotto, one looks back through the long green cleft of the wooded mountainsides onto the frllitful seam of the eastern chain ofla Cava, where the sun gleamed brightly and the white houses, cloisters and chapels lie scattered among grape plantations, cornfields and meadows. What nature! How tender and secret its beauty; and how few travelers know la Cava's paradise! Hackert and Kniep have often studied here, and at Kniep's I saw pictures which made me immediately feel at home here. This romantic spot is called la Grotta di Ponega. Beside the waterfall, a rough footpath leads into the rocks [p. 247] and up to the famous abbey of St TrinitA; but on the right a wilder way, on the inner side of the valley cleft, leads into the mountains and, over mountain and through wood and cliffs, down to the sea near Vietri.

June 12.

I have got into such a fever of discovery that in my eagerness to follow this interesting path I hardly sleep, and in daytime can hardly await the cool afternoon hours. - My dear old Vicario thought it was a rather temerarious undertaking for a delicatissima Donna; but as soon as he had admitted its possibility, I was as good as under way. I went alone with Karl and my servants: Ion donkeyback [zu EselJ, as long as it was possible, the others on foot We followed yesterday's fine way through valley and grotto, and then directly to the right and up the steep, chestnut-covered mountain of Traonea; immediately are opened changing views into the deep little valley, on [p. 248] the variegated chalk cliffs, arched into grottos and overgrown with green vegetation like the substructures ofthe Palatine. As the way turns, one looks sideways into the high green valleys which hang beneath Finestra' s jagged peaks. Suddenly appears, in isolated and sheltered position, the TrinitA Cloister, only to disappear again immediately. We now climb steeply through the thick chestnut wood for three-quarters of an hour, and find ourselves, after getting past the lonely village ofTrannea, on the flat top of the mountain.

What a scene here opened around me! On the left, my whole lovely la Cava spread out and overseen; in the depths and on the heights, in bottoms, gorges and clefts, the teeming population so lightly scattered! Far below me lay Molina's little fairy valley, and in front of me on the green slope of Liberatore were the little white houses of Vien Ii Casa, positioned like a reposing flock of lambs; over yonder hangs the Planwn inclino.tum which is formed from this side by the summit of the Liberatore; to the right against the [p. 249] Liberatore lies Vietri above a low-lying, deep blue sea basin. Behind Vietri (for Salerno is hidden in the in-reaching ROMAN DIARY, II 71

mountain chain) the frllitful plain ofEboli gleams in the sunlight, and the boundary hills of Basilicata take their rise. Deeply sunk down is the sea in the rocky basin, deep the summit of the hill of la Cava, of the Ajutore. Suddenly this handsome detail map disappears; the summit of the mountain we are climbing advances, and we are again in the dark wood.

Once again a distant view! But Cava, Molina, Vietri have vanished as though at the gesture of a magic wand, and the broad bright blue sea has opened in unembraceable fullness; no longer deeply sunken, but rolling high on Poseidon's coasts, where lonely lie the white ruins of Paestum, and at a greater distance Cap Licosa breaks the floods. Here on the mountain's high back, I was enchanted by the crowd of noble plants which I had seen, if at all, only in our hothouses. In addition to the Genista, the Spartium, and the wrieties of the Citysus, there smelled, greened and bloomed, in luxuriant fullness, roses, myrtles'l of all kinds: mastix, Lentiseus, whole species of thyme, Meiran, Menthee, lavender and amber, and decorated in lovely confusion the lonely height, which, like a sacrificial altar smoking with incense, rises between sea and land into pure air.

Thus far our way had been only difficult; but now, with my little lamp of vitality almost burned out for today, it began to grow really dangerous. It was a matter of riding down the almost vertical declivity (Giihe) of the mountain by way ofRaiti to Vietri, on a narrow zigzag path full of rolling stones; for as to walking, I was so overtired that I would rather suffer anything else than that. But soon the frightening beauty of nature overcame all fear. Deeply the mountain under the swaying Ip. 251] path seemed as it were to leap into the cliff.shore bays, whose rocky profiles are aligued on the right as far as Capo d.Orso. As our path bent, we threatened to fall now onto the roofs ofRaiti, now into the black depths. Far off lingered all the magic of evening illumination on the coasts of the Bay, and in the deeply visible mountain chains of the provinces. Ships with purple sails glided on the high sea. Finally we got down to Vietri, where, after a ride of eight miles of rough mountain paths, the very welcome wagon awaited me.

June 13.

I spent the morning, still heartily tired, with the children. Movement in the morning air exhausts me and makes me unfit for any work for the entire day. In the afternoon we drove to Salerno, took a boat in the harbor, and rowed back to Vietri. The sea was mirror-bright, the sun had already sunk behind the high mountains, [p. 252] whose wild gray outlines were drawn in the gold and purple aether. Never have I seen a more majestic line than that which the Liberatore, boldly rising out of the sea, draws in the air as far as his eagle's head. The mild sea air breathed gently around us, and the rosy shimmer of evening melded with the crystal green in the bosom of the sea. Gentle sunlight still shines far off on the high mountainous strata of the southeastern provinces; with silver they are brought forward, and the sunken rock masses are

"Next to the myrtles, the tender little flowers of the AdoniB Btood in great numberB. ROMAN DIARY, II 72 sprinkled with gentle lilac, and everything opens to cheerful views of the distance. Never did I see the deep floods of shadows [so] agitated by the wind, and they play brown in black tints on the wild surrounding cliffs. Swaying carpets of ivy hang down over the dark sea grottos. The frightfully torn basin of the rough FiUiesca borders the sea-bay on the left; but friendly on the right lies the little town [p.253] ofVietri, and its orange-gardens send their scent below. High in the wild undergrowth of the Liberatore wandered a Dominican monk, creating a picturesque effect in the white habit of his order.

We found the harbor ofVietri teeming with sailors' boats; it was the festival of the fish- saint Antonio; great swordfish were cut up, roasted on the spot, and gobbled down with all kinds of beverages. To all of us the brevity of the Hesperian summer evenings was very noticeable this evening, since on returning to la Cava we found the moonlight as predominant in June as it is with us in August at this hour. How enchanted I was with the moonlight over Cava's valley - how the silver-showered mountaintops towered in the still visible blue ofthe sky - and night resided only in the blackest depths.

June 14.

Today my good Vicario came at noon to accompany me to the famous Benedictine Abbey of la Cava, St. Trinita. The [p. 254] way goes past Maria del Avocata, then immediately up and to the right into the deep darkness of the mountain woods, which here consist almost exclusively of the finest chestnut trees. A fresh aroma sinks down from the high vaults; in the treetops, more level sun's rays play between green mountain peaks. To the left there sink beneath us the bottom land of Val Molina and the valley deft of Ponega; but far off on the Liberatore shines a blue sea-basin sunk among sunny hills. The fine wood absorbs us in deeper, sacred shadows, and close in front of us open the wonderfully defied rock teeth, behind which the sun shoots upward a halo of rays; dose beneath the vertically rising hill crowns we caught sight of a little white town, called Cava Vecchia or Corpus Cava, and this is the real old Cava founded by the first king of the Lombards, which lies here romantically in complete isolation between wood and cliff and meadow.

Never have I seen such fantastically formed [p. 255] mountains as this Ario del Grano that here rises before us! Its widely spread summits are sunk in a crescent of alternating serrated prongs; but the mildest green of the oak and chestnut woods moves up and down with the high peaks, fills the deep recesses, and clothes the most abrupt precipices of this Colossetrm, Next to it stands in sharpest contrast the bare Finestra, through whose frightful cleft the sun even now throws its last glance as through a window. It is probably from this optical manifestation that the mountain received its name. We briefly lost ourselves again in the wooded night, until a sudden view diverted mind and thoughts from the early night of the western foothills - over valleys, hills and plains to the noble limestone mountain of Capaccio, the giant of the Salerno Province. The gray hills of Cava are picturesquely arrayed in rising lines, and the whole perspective view lay in the most advantageous illtrmination. ROMAN DIARY, II 73

Again we ride [p. 256] through the wood and closer to the mountain chain, and suddenly descry in front of us, in the corner of the mountain cleft, as at the end of the world, between cliffs and over abysses, the lonely cloister. Its walls lean upon the mighty overhanging cliff; so near are the cliffs, that here it was already twilight at seven [o'clock], as in tlle valley [it would be at] half-past eight. Never has the situation of a human dwelling more deeply affected my mind.

Sacred shadows of the rocks and woods here solemnly sink down. Directly beside the cloister, the forest brook rushes down from the height and over sinking cliffs; slender poplars rise up from the depths, and wild shrubbery flanks the narrow path which runs downhill to the Grotta ill Ponega. This solemn loneliness, broken only by the sound of the rushing stream, stands in the most affecting contrast to the view which opens from the cloister terrace; where one looks through the long wooded ravine, out of deep separateness, onto a far-off underworld in whose [p. 257] changeable play of colors the shining daytime figures still confront the imagination, while the qlrietened heart cloaks itself in the deep peace of solitude.

The hard or merely dull, but certainly discontented faces of the monks who came to us on the terrace would almost have awakened me from my dreams. But my heart soon named to me worthier inhabitants of this sanctuary than these, ab! themselves deceived deceivers.

To you, oh sacred friendship, playmate of cheerful wisdom, and to yon, holy and true love, who voluntarily seekest after solitude, to you my spirit dedicated cliff and grove, spring and altar!

This monastery was formerly celebrated for the outstanding scholars whom it accommodated. It is now still celebrated for its age and for the rare manuscripts of its library. I was shown the law book ofthe Lombards, and Bibles ofthe eighth century; the good Vicario did not fail to tell me [p. 258] how the manuscript worm, Friedrich MOnter, had settled here for a week and almost eaten up the parchments.

Most remarkable is the interior of the church. Its background is the rough rock; between this and the vaulting of the cupola, a space has been broken out tltrough which the sacred Dove sinks down in a halo. ROMAN DIARY, II 74

BRUN95N, continued [p.259] vn. CONTINUATION OF THE STAY IN LA CA VA. [p.261] June 15, 1796.

[p. 261] In the evening we made a delightful tour via Vietri and Salerno to that picturesque cliff-hill called Torreone or Torre guernale, which stands so lonely at the seaside a mile and a half behind Salerno. It was easy to climb, even for me; and although it is rocky throughout, the most joyful vegetation of noble plants surrounded us with their fragrance and blossoms. The lovely caper plant hung down in full flowery splendor from fissures in the rock; and the fine-leaved myrtle, whose graceful shoots, adorned with the tender blossoms and white pearl buds, offered themselves so delightfully as a wreath of love and joy, is surrounded (umblilht) by the purple Adorns flower. How attractive is everywhere this symbolic speech of nature! [p. 2621 How touching on these lovely coasts, over which Hella's genius once presided, and lovely deception threw its delightful garment around the truth! Now the present time has fallen silent, and only eternally youthful nature proclaims the sagas of primeval times from her wide-open book, or gently moves our heart through softer tones!

A small, round fortification tower crowns the hill; I went iuside, and sat down in one of the embrasures (Schiessseharten), where with real heart's delight I plunged with mind and thoughts into the full sea, which lay directly and endlessly before me and ever-increasingly discloses itself to the gaze. To the left the cheerful hill country, covered with vineyards, olive groves and grain fields, glides right down into the waves; through it picturesquely winds the military highway. How luxuriantly sways the golden field of Ceres beneath Minerva's lightly shadowing and dark-colored groves!

To the right, the cliffs of the rocky coast bend in rough splendor as far as Capo d'Orso, sunk in deep shadow from the adjacent heights (vom hohen Gebilrg); above [p. 263] Salerno, heavy mists sink down from out the high green valley; on the seacoast, too, lower vapors creep about the shallow shore-streams, and the air itself is damp and heavy on these heights. But what vegetation springs from this fertile land, unhealthy though it is from lack of population and of the accompanying painstaking cultivation! Rye and barley are ripe, and the harvest is already beginning. Apricots and pears display themselves on the trees, and I still eat cherries and strawberries every day. Our May- and heart-cherry (May- und Herzkirsche) is excellent here; but the commonest variety (the so-called Spanish cherry) is white and, hardly reddened, yellowish in color. The fine, lengthy, perermial wood and mountain strawberry is the only one here, and has the strongest aroma.

This cliff itself seemed to our (admittedly inexpert) gaze like a compendium of geology. Its northwestern land side, turned toward la Cava, was bllilt up of vertical strata of a hard, grainy limestone [p. 264] like that which appears most often in the northern Apermines. On the ROMAN DIARY, II 75

seaward side, to the southeast, we found horizontal strata of a gray-black, fine-grained lava mixed with schor!. Up on the hill lay loose stones of what the Italians call Kalkbreecia; next to them we found pieces of black and white granitello, which last variety seems to me to be gneiss.

June ]6.

Today the great heat kept me in the honse all day with my Livy and Ariosto. Around sunset we drove over the valley to St. Lucie [Santa Lucia]. From the slope of the hill we saw the sun, far off in the open northwestern perspective, slowly sink down to Vesuvius, whose majestic outline was drawn with a tender lilac in the gold-and-orange field of the evening. To our right, naked rounded mountain crania stare across the dreadful mountain slopes; opposite us [p. 265] St.Angelo's thick mountain woods cast a black shadow. On the wood pyramid of the Castello Mater Domino rise up, from sunken northerly distances, the airy vaults of the decaying fortress, looked through by the gold of evening.

And now the sun sinks in Somma's ageless divided gulf, as in an open grave of primeval times, slowly and solemnly down! That we should stand this very evening, at this hour, on the single point from which this most impressive optical manifestation is visible, belongs to the mild gifts of the friendly genius who so often leads me, and to whom I so willingly surrender myself: All of us were lost in silent gazing, until the harmonious c.olor tones of this Campanian distance, in which mountains and heavens flowed together, raised us gently from the bonds of wonder. Soon rose the moon behind the eastern mountains.

o beloved, ever unforgettable Cava! Thou gracious favorite child of the heavenly stars, how you are adorned by every hour of the day, every hour of the night, [p. 266] with uniquely individual charm! How enchanting is the moonlight over la Cava's heights and depths! No one of us could find their bed this night. We wandered around on the great verandas of the house, and looked on Cava's heights, and into Cava's depths. Black stood the pyramids of the wood, silver sparkled the visible green of the mountain districts; a gray silvery mist floated over the ravines; the tips of the rocks shone bluish, and their outlines were sharply raised in the dark aether. The purity of this air makes a moonlit night into what is only a gentler day. Late, half drunken with rapture and half with sleep, we went to our rest.

June 17.

I spent the lovely, cheerful summer morning in a little nearby chestnut wood. Herder's Terpsichore was my dear companion, as she has been throughout my whole journey; for I have ever found in her, in joy and sorrow, either a solemn hint of Nemesis, or a gentle word of comfort and wisdom.

[p. 267] After the meal came my good old Vicario, to accompany me on a long intended pilgrimage to the eagles' summit of the Liberatore. The female part of the travel group followed the sturdy gllide on donkey-back [zu Esel]; Pohrt and Karl went, as always, on foot. The way ROMAN DIARY, II 76 leads through the town, and then from the road to Vietri runs left down to Ponte Sordo, and so around the base of the mountain between villages, gardens, and shaded paths gradually up to the slope, where lies a lonely valley beneath the high-throned summit. Splendid stone oaks with their dark-gleaming foliage stood here, united with German oaks in lovely groupings, and on the ground luxuriated on tender green turf the remains of an abandoned vineyard. From here begins the difficult mountain path to the rough, rocky heights of Liberatore, which look out toward Salerno. We rode through wild mountain woods of balsam firs, wild olive trees and fragraut shrubbery; here and there opened stolen glances into the deep-sunken sea and [p. 268] the strata of the mountain, which seemed to rise with us and open iuto new distances. Suddenly we stand on a rocky corner, as though placed in the air! Beneath us the abyss, above us the overhanging, then vertically serrated, rocky crown of the mountain, extending roughly and inhospitably into the air. A small rock path leads down sideways between the cliffs, where, beneath the natural rampart of the high cliff wall, is seen the door of the mountain hermitage, which hangs here like a swallow's nest beneath the cornice of an antique temple. The hermits were not at home; the door was locked, and our wish to shelter ourselves for a few minutes from the sharply cutting northwest wind (called Libeceio) was frustrated

From here, further advance appeared impossible, and would truly have been so had not storm and rain furrowed the smooth overhanging cliffs; in these often barely visible marks of time trod our donkeys [unsere EselJ, and bore us so, swaying over the abyss, in narrow [p.269] zigzag turns close to the highest peak. The view from here is unique! Deep below us lay Vietri at the foot of the mountain, seemingly drawn up from the waves, and so near that one would have thought it possible to jump down had not the miniature dimensions of the houses betrayed the distance. Black rests the harbor of Vietri, where the giant head of Filliescothe overhangs the shore cliffs as far as Capo d'Orso. Around us the most beautiful plants exuded their perfumes from every fissure, and we found, among others, splendid bouquets of the fine red Gentiana eentaurea; between the myrtle and rosemary shrubs, the Spartium; and bushes of the red and white Cystus, which blooms so much like the rose.

But soon the sea alone drew us. Behind the last height of the mountain, the sun had sunk for us, and its gigantic shadow was projected far out on the open sea. To the left [p. 270] Salerno lay deep down on the strand, and deep under us the high-preening Saracen Castello. The views were opened far into the mountain chains of the Principata ultra; the fruitful garden of the plain ofEboli lay delightfully before us in its amphitheater of high mountains, and washed by the sea! Par off we caught sight ofPaestum in a smaller plain beneath hills; farther still, the fine foothills ofLicosa. The storm increased with every moment as the breaking waves foamed on the rocky shore! At the horizon, the indigo blue of the sea united with the pure blue of heaven. We lingered long in the rocky desert beneath us, over us, around us - rocks!

Finally I climbed all the way up with Pohrt, the others fearing the storm. Now I stood breathing deeply at the high Cross, which I embraced, as once before on the Rigikulm, in order not to be blown away by the storm. Who can leave the last near height unattained, in whom a courageous heart beats, even though in a weak breast! Now the view backward to the northwest ROMAN DIARY, II 77

also stood open. Close [p. 271] beneath me lay Cava's green valleys and rolling heights, spread out like a deep Alpine lake. Seen from the summit of greatuess - as everything appears there in its true form - the little, how small! How sunken, those jaunty mountain peaks of St. Martino, Mater Dei, Mat Castello [sie] and PietA di Croce; how powerful Finestra, Filliesco, and, above the plain ofEboli, the giant Cappaccio! And in front of everything, how unattainable the surging fullness of the sacred sea!

I seized here a long stretch of the limestone chain of the Apennines in a single glance; forward from the Abruzzi, extending deep into the southern provinces of the kingdom. All of the summits of this chain of mountains are turned ITom northwest toward the southeast; all of them overhanging and hollowed out, rather like craters whose wall on our side had been broken out. So they stand, far out from the interior of Basilicata untiJ far into the north, where Vesuvius in its sharp angle closes the noble perspective, and his unique volcanic shape [p. 272] suddenly breaks the monotony of nature's consistent plan.

June 18.

The rough Libeccio bad made me ill, and on this day I had to remain in bed.

June 19 and 20.

I spent these two days very pleasantly in the company of my mends, the gallant, trusty Swabian, Heigelin - who, as Danish consul, honors our name in the whole Kingdom - and the excellent painter, Professor Hetsch of Stuttgart. They came, surprising me, from Naples. Already in Rome I had spent many happy and instructive hours with Hetsch and his gentle, noble spouse - and here I now played gllide to the great gallery of nature, conducting the artist and the mends into those secret valleys ofla Cava. The artist's joy in the grotto of Ponega, the vale of Molina, on the magic coast between Vietri [p. 273] and Salerno, was indescribable. Before his understanding and practiced gaze, everything formed itself into paintings, and no charm among these touching details was lost on him; nor did we ever see the sun set more beautifully than today, nor the mountain coasts more magically illuminated. - And now the moon wandered upward from the mists of the horizon!

On the evening of the 20'", we gave ourselves the festival of awaiting the fu]l moon shimmering on the mirrorlike surface of the roadstead of Salerno. It seemed to tease our impatience - finally, it slowly wandered upward, like an immense disk of dull-glowing bronze, between two dark blue mountain peaks, directly over Paestum. "Ah! whoever from beneath the Doric columns of Poseidon's temple might see you wandering upward," I sighed. "But, be still my heart!" It shone across the plain, still trebly enlarged; wandered slowly upward from the mists ofPaestum, and poured its still reddish torchlight over the resting land Finally, it set its beam- pillars in the [p. 274] waves - it was as though it were washing its brilliance from the fogs of earth in Amphitrite's lap; for now it floated ever lighter in the pure aether, and we glided gently with the silver column to the seashore, where evening red and moonlight still mingled in ROMAN DIARY, II 78 the lovely half-light on the mountain heights.

We drove home, the moon remained behind the mountains; but in the pleasure groves of the mountainsides was a new festival of nature! Millions offireworms (Lampyrus L.) floated around, irradiating the nocturnal grove with the beauteous flame oflove! Neither Armida's nor Alcina's magic gardens were more magically illuminated! Up and down hill, heights and hollows were filled with shimmering, and between the grapevines' arches fluttered the mobile stars a thousandfold in the bllrish ghostly light, brightening the green light of the groves; and height and depth, cliff and cleft, glowed with Cupid's torch and were permeated by the active spirit of life.

June 21-23.

[p. 275] I spent these days qlrietly in my house, since I was suffering considerably from pains in my side and from debility. I took little walks in the nearby vineyard, and visited the huts of the good, friendly occupants. They are now harvesting the rye (den Roeken). The fields by each Massarie [Italian masseria, farm?] are small, and the grain is reaped manually with the sickle. Around the grain stalks there grows almost everywhere a wild, fine and yellow-blooming clover (Trifolium melilQtus italica); this is carefully separated from each handful of ears, and laid in heaps to one side; for grass is costly here, since the intensive cultivation of the land makes it so rare. Between the already tall cornstalks (? Mais-Kolben) stand young kidney beans. Between the more open rows of the Grano indico grow also narrow beds of gourds, cucumbers, melons. Rye, barley and wheat are now ripening almost together. Then follow maize, Grano indico, and the so- called autwnn or Sicilian wheat; after that, rape (Rimen) of several [p.276] kinds are planted for the late autumn harvest.

Beneath the elms and the arches of the vineyards, which overshadow the common meadow that lies between my house and the town, the cocoons of the silkworms were also spun in these days. The cocoons, with the worms inside, are thrown into boiling water, causing the death of the unfortunate and uselessly transformed chrysalises; but the tender threads are loosened easily and disentangled. The beginning of the labyrinthine threads (30 to 40 cocoon threads at a time) are taken in the hand, whereby they run onto a great wheel like a reel. Delightful was the sight of the great, rapidly revolving wheels covered with gold, straw, orange, and chamois-shining silk, beneath the green leary heaven. Also, among the spinning Parcae who here unwound the death-thread of the poor veiled Psyches, there were a few qlrite pretty girls.

In general, the Cavans are a very industrious little people. In every hut I found a [p. 277] cotton-wheel and a loom; the mother usually spinning, and the eldest daughter weaving. They make white, twilled cotton stuffs which are very strong and cheap, and can be used for light bedspreads, underclothing and children's clothing. I also saw very good hemp-linen, which was grown and woven here and came very close to the excellent Russian product. The silk made here is said to be of only mediocre quality. ROMAN DIARY, II 79

It is dreadful how people in Italy, except in the capitals, still treat the poor children. They are first long and tightly swaddled, and, as they emerge from the swaddling clothes, tied up (geschnurt) and (notwithstanding the very early growth of hair in Italy) powdered! This is universally true among even the somewhat comfortable people in small towns. But never will I forget a nice little child, a girl of three to four years from our house, who visited me in a red taffeta skirt overlaid with white linen, with a tightly laced black velvet corset, golden [p. 278] belt and steel buckle, and fully powdered and pomaded hair. I first had to laugh at this Callotlike caricature; but when I looked more closely at the poor tormented little worm, whose round childish body protruded like a bubble from under the stays, and her anJ\.ious movements - I was closer to weeping.

I won over the little thing and her attendant. She was taken out of the harness, an outgrown little dress of Charlotte's was put on her, and a light silken ribbon tied around, but the pretty hair loosened; and so I sent her back to her mother. But, Oh heavens! She thought she beheld a monster, as she saw the now really pretty child, and hurried as much as possible to put it back in armor. How fortunate I consider the children of the poor vintners, who mostly run around in a mere shirt, and are handsome, cheerful and healthy!

Good and careful as is the cultivation ofthe land in this valley, the country people have no idea of how to make use of the dearly won grain, and especially [p. 279] the straw, which, in view of the sparsity of hay and grass, should be very valuable to them. In front of every cabin is an open place covered with a plaster or chalk mixture. Here the grain was brought directly from the field, and, soft and moist as it still remained, was threshed on the following day. Now it was impossible for me to look upon this threshing without laughing at the incomprehensible simplicity and clumsiness of these good people; the grain was quite carelessly and indifferently laid out on the ground in great quantities; four persons, men and boys, held each a slender hazel rod, through which a hole had been bored; a second, even thinner rod was tied to the first at its thin end through a small leather thong - the feeble implement scarcely slid over the hard straw - the thong kept breaking, so that the number of threshers was seldom complete, while one of them was always engaged in tying ~ the straw was indifferently thrown aside; I examined it, and found, as can be believed, [p. 280] that few ears were threshed clean. The being who came off best in this process was the fine big plow-ox of the house (the little rye-field was probably the property of this poor sharecropper family), who is probably in no land so richly rewarded for the labor of plowing; for the straw was thrown to him up to his chin, and he luxuriated in grain at the same time.

The next day, in the same hut, they offered me bread from the rye that two days earlier had still stood in the field. In many houses they have, in the old way (as in these), no hand-mills. The supply of winter wheat was used up, and this was eaten fresh. I need not say that it was unenjoyable, in that the flour from the still soft grains could not be assimilated in the baking process. It was very evident to me here how custom is everything to the countryman who moves always within the limits of the familiar. How gladly would I have left the good people a flail as a souvenir! ROMAN DIARY, II 80

I met in these days [p. 281] some country people from this region whose women had a very pretty and picturesque costume. Scarlet skirts, black velvet bodice trimmed with gold braid and a red ribbon in the unpowdered hair.

June 24.

I shall never forget this qlriet month in la Caw! Nor you, loved valley, which every Hora lovingly adorns with new grace in the changing dance! When the early dusk floats over the western mountain woods, the high summits shine in competition with one another as the sinking sun wanders behind them; long shadows of the mountains extend over the gently sinking depths, down into the green lap of the valley -linger in the leafY vaults and sway above the golden crops until their fantastic shadow pictures rise on the eastern mountainsides. Now in the valley the sun has already set; but still there lingers an Elysian [p. 282] gleam in the gently illuminated green, while the little towns of Preata, St. Lucia, and all the cloisters and little white houses scattered in the eastern hills still lie in warm rosy light. Every afternoon the Monte Castello stands six times in the shadow of the western mountains, and six times the sun again shines on it through each mountain gorge behind which it passes before it sets. Often I drive behind the setting sun on the road to Nucera, or, to meet the rising moon, toward Vietri and Salerno. There, as soon as the pyramid of St. Martino is passed, mild sunlight still shines, and the open fields smile in the glow of evening; here, early darkness sinks down from the nearby rising cliffs.

June 25.

I live here separated from all the world, as on an Island of the Blessed - but I have not yet drunk of Lethe's waters, and am troubled about news from the homeland and all friends beyond the mountains. The [p. 283] wars of Lombardy and Romagna, like greedy birds of prey, make off with all my carrier pigeons; I suffer a lot with pains in the side and deafuess, and my mind thrives altogether better in Cava than does my body - and yet this valley is and remains the anchorage of my soul in Italy; it so completely agrees with all the tones of my being - I have wholly felt myself here, in gentle pain and soul-raising presentiment (Ahndung).

On this evening I discovered a new walk with Charlotte. Directly behind Vietri, a scarcely noticeable path, rising above the highway and the sea, leads gradually high up to the cliffs. Olive and carob trees shadow you; myrtles, mastic and lentiscus green you; and lovely flowers of many kinds, which I have frequently named, perfume yon.

Eventually one comes to a lonely church embedded in a green rocky setting, in front of which stand three lovely lindens (which one seldom sees here) in cheerful growth, spreading their pleasant odor all around. The view is [p. 284] very fine, and today was particularly majestic; for beneath us the sea swelled ultramarine and mild, raised by a fresh Tramontana; little boats danced upon it, and distant ships cut the waves on the horizon. The sun was already behind Finestra; but golden rays still fell between its jagged points on the green hills above ROMAN DIARY, II 81

Salerno, and the battlements of the gray fortress glowed in the purple; beneath, Salerno itselflay in shadow. But the far-bending shore ofEboli, the plain as far as Paestwn and Cape Licosa, which certainly make 80 to 90 degrees of the circle, lay with the high shimmering chalk hills in the mild light of the evening SUll. A more deeply vaulted, more sharply horned gulf I never did see! The air today was so clear that I plainly made out with the naked eye the houses on Cape Licosa, which however were at least five German miles distant in a straight line over the sea.

June 26.

[p. 285] Today we spent the afternoon in the vineyard of the gallaut Don Giovene, who gave a little domestic rete for me. This fine man is one of the most respected burghers of the town of Cava, and the distinguished appearance ofthe handsome and friendly graybeard seems fully to warrant the respect of his fellow citizens. If I say now that this dear old man resembled our great Bemstorf in figure, manners, color, as an elder brother resembles a younger one, you will feel with wbat love I too lingered on the dear face - ah! I did not suspect that I saw Bemstorf today for the last time, and only in a picture - that on my return to the homeland, the tears for the only sister must be mingled with tears for the unique one who for so long was Dania's tutelary spirit!

The vineyard hangs on the slope of a mountain gully, right between the St. Angelo and Finestra; and the way up leads through the now dry stream bed. Sideways [p. 2861 the sun shone delightfully through the mountain folds and over the shimmering tops of the chestnut woods, which decorate the vertical slopes with pyramidal forms to a considerable altitude. The little vineyard with the little house hangs like a bird's nest over the valley. The air was heavenly mild, and the view downward over the swelling green of the finest deciduous trees intn the wiley of fruitfulness and rest was full of quiet charm.

We found here a little collation, and were served varions wines which are self-made from this pleasant spot. The best was from last autumn; a red wine, similar in color and taste to our usual table wine (Medoc), for which we pay 22 to 24 Danish Sch[illings]. Here this costs 3 Grano (not qlrite 3 Schillings). If this wine were kept, it would be in no way inferior tu the Bordeaux wine. But the wine husbandry is carried on rather casually, and what is produced in the valley is also fully consumed there. There [p, 287] was a great blessing of children here.The children in this country are handsome; and fine features around nose and eyes are frequent; and fine arms are also not rare here - and if they are not so white as those of the Nordic beauties, on the other hand the outline [form] of the arm, from shoulder to fingertip, is often complete, which I almost never found in the north.

June 27.

I was ill today. My doctor and friend, Domeyer, has to my joy arrived in Naples, and is pressing for my return to Naples and for the crossing to Ischia. ROMAN DIARY, II 82

June 28.

Siisse Liebe! holde Liebe! Sweet love! Gracious love! Komm in dieses ThaI! Come into this valley! Menschen, weIche dich verkennen, People who misunderstand you, Call you Dich mit falschem Namen nennen by an untrue name - Flieh sie, holde, siisse Liebe! Komm Flee from them, sweet gracious love! in dieses ThaI! Come into this wiley!

These words sounded continuously around my soul from the first day in la Cava; but only today [p. 288] did I write them down in parting. Farewell in your sweet evening light, beloved valley! Your ripening seeds, your tender grape arbors, and you, fair walnut tree, who took me when slightly tired so often into its shade, farewell ! You, too, my little roguish Rafaello, who always regarded me so childishly with the blue eyes of my Gustchen [Augusta], and so confidently nibbled sweet figs from my basket; and you, black-eyed maiden, who so often, when I passed your cabin, so sweetly bashful handed me purple-red carnations as red as your lips - farewell, and grow green and bloom! Farewell, Cava" and may your industrious country people soon cease to be merely tenants of the painfully worked land, and become fTee owners!

June 29.

I left dear la Cava at four o'clock in the morning. The return trip to Naples was very pleasant; cool breezes played in the shady leafage of the Campanian fields, beneath grape arbors which, laden with the swelling frllit, already let down Panikwn and hemp in lower garlands above the stubble of the rye, the dark, golden, long-bearded wheat (I believe it is spelt, which is also cultivated in southern Germany and Switzerland) and the shining green of the com.

To the left stood the abruptly rising, dark blue coastal mountains; to the right, the distant chain of the Abruzzi lightly recedes! Before us rises (as a shadowy figure looming out of magical mists appears enlarged) the volcanic giant with its three heads., Vesuvius, Somma and Ottajano. On the horizon appears the tall -head of Capri, like a mountain of the mainland. But soon, near Pompeii's vaults, the sea opens and Sorrento's coasts become visible. And now rise from the misty distance Ischia, the goal of my pilgrimage, Prozida (procida), and twilight Misenum and Baiae's coasts.

We plunge by night into the turmoil of Naples. Streams [p.290] of coaches (anyone who has not been in Naples will not understand this hyperbolic expression) rolled about us - the gleams of torchlight blinded us - the crowding and clamor of the people deafened us. In one word, it was the eve of the Peter and Paul festival- and a festival of peace for Rome, which has freed itself from the sword of the new Gauls with [the aid of] 4 million Scudi, 60 statues and 60 of the best paintings. ROMAN DIARY, II 83

BRUN95N, continued vm. NAPLES (in the first half of July 1796)

[p. 293]. So you will not allow me to leave Naples before I have told you about the treasures of the studios (Studien), the Porcelain Factory, Capo di Monte, and Portici? Haven't I told you, then, what a dolee far niente has taken possession of me in this Hesperian summer climate? How I can scarcely see, much less talk, still less write? The way all of us together, mother and children, practice the mimicry of the UL""'Zaroni and now talk only with fingers and eyes?

Do you want me to assemble for you these half-iTagmentary tones, these linguistic signs and symbols from my hasty notes on Naples' art works? But just do not expect that a tolerable whole will emerge from these neglected and ill-turned fragments!

The Studios.

[p. 294] In this large and still unfinished bllilding, which at one time was intended to group the Library, the art treasures ofPortici, Capo di Monte, and the Porcelain Factory in a single whole, we visited today, under the guidance of our Tischbein (the presiding genius of the place), the art works of the . Everything here is still in a state of chaotic confusion; 12 the art objects lie, stand, lean around in nooks and corners, vestibules and portals, buried in dust and dirt, and immersed in the most revolting emanations of Neapolitan uncleanliness. -- This by way of excuse, if an art dilettante with overrefined olfactory sensibilities (since in my encounters with the begging world I haven't yet accomplished the nullification of this sense) conducts you very superficially through the Studios.

1.) Here is the immense Skeleton of Maim on. It comes from Sicily, where the bones of this antediluvian earth-dweller [p. 295] were formerly said to be giants' bones. The skeleton is alleged to be quite complete; but the powerful fragments lie disordered and half hidden in chalk and masonry dust.

2.) A nice marble group of two figures lovingly regarding each other; perhaps Orestes and Electra?

3.) A Venus Victrix.

4.) Colossal statue of Okeanos. A gloomy quiet after the storm rests on forehead and

12Portion of the Farnese collection had been moved from s Rome to to forestall seizure by the French. (Translator's Naples note. ) ROMAN DIARY, II 84 eyebrows.

5.) Colossal statue. The Muse Urania - recognized by me in heart, mind and feeling as a sister of the divine Tragic Muse of the M.P.C!. [Musco Pio-Clementino]. It is a piece of the same size. - The high goddess lay on the ground in an access corridor, completely isolated by the filth surrounding her - so that it was only by boldly springing onto her breast that I was able to look at her more closely. There, as I looked beneath the wreath into the blissfully gazing eyes and solemnly mild countenance, I cried out: "You are Urania! First- [p. 296] born of the heavenly sisters! Let me ever rest so upon your bosom, pure goddess!" Tischbein, who, as you know, greatly spoils (verzieht) me, could not see enough of me on the bosom of his loved Muse, and said to me that he, too, considers her to be the sister of the great Melpomene.

6.) Hercules Famese, savior of men from physical evil through strength. This high work of antiquity is most advantageously displayed, in a handsome room where it receives the light from above. Nothing can be compared to this hero - and this expression of powerful patience, of rest after the entire deed, and of the most truly confidence-inspiring good nature in the face, awakes in me a melancholy, most grateful feeling - so that I always have difficulty in tearing myself away even from a mere bust of this splendid being.

7.) Very well- executed colossal bust ofVespasian.

8.) A lovely reclining maiden.

[p. 297] Tischbein, with his tireless good nature, also conducted me to the residence of Mr. Rainer, the secretary of the Queen, where I mention the following items from a handsome collection of art works.

I.) A handsome bust of Theseus, very similar in style, expression and physiognomy to the statues of this hero in the Casino Ludovici [sic: Ludovisi?], and in the Capitoline.

2.) Splendidly fine bust of Pluto. There is a deep, inward glow in the dark face of the shadow king and kidnapper ofProserpina.

3.) A Holy Family ofDomenichino; one of the most attractive paintings ofthis famous artist that I have yet seen.

4.) Holy Family ofTiziano (Titian). This painting is to me the dearest of all that I have seen from this great painter. - The heads have expression, and the Christ child is of most gracious beauty.

5.) A small collection ofremarkable Campanian vases and urns. Who can [p.298] stand without deep thought before these meaningful montrments of the highest antiquity - before these witnesses of an artistic formation in comparison with which ours is still crude infancy? For what ROMAN DIARY, II 85 artist of the new world is able, with flying brush on glowing clay, to draw these outlines, whose accuracy, beauty and elegance, in the imitation alone, are the despair of our artists!

In one container there were still bones and ashes! In another, pearJs, oak leaves and acorns of a gilded paste - the mortuary wreath and the corpse! One container was broken, and jewelry and ashes were perhaps separated. Both had been found recently, and, ifI am not mistaken, in the neighborhood of Nola.

Mr. Reiner's [sicJ rooms were in the fifth story. In Naples they aim at the upper stories in order to be above the bad smells, and to enjoy the heavenly views; often, too, to convert the flat roof of the house into an airy garden. Here, the [p. 299] view over the Molo and the Bay, with the green-clad seam of Vesuvius, was particularly fine. One looks past Vesuvius toward Nola and Avella, and on the field where Marcellus beat Hannibal. The pJow still often brings to light lead from the arrows of the Numidians. There opens in perspective view the long mountain valley of the Abruzzo, where Fabius followed after Hannibal and, through wise delay, debilitated the good fortune of the mighty one. To the Jeft rises a hill close before the city, where once stood the French camp - Perhaps the time is less near [sie J, in which the New Franks will seek to revive the old hatred of their nation, which glows deep in the heart of the Neapolitan peopleAh! Perhaps the most recent past will again become present!

The Porcelain Factory.

Still under the guidance of my excellent friend Tischbein, whose benevolence is as untiring as his artistic sense, in its union with nature, is [p. 300) inexhaustible. Here there are still a quantity of the treasures of the Palazzo Farnese, heaved up and badly dispJayed; but only until the studios have been completed:

I.) The two caryatids, known as the Phrygians, with their variegated garment of violet color (Pavonazzetta).

2.) The famous Parthenopean Venus, whose delicate figure embraces so much elegance - and shows in its execution the highest degree of the morbidezza (softness) ofWinckeJmann's Ai/o bello - Let us very quietly pass this charming beauty, who, as Wieland says,

Found always lovers, But only in old Greece a temple.

3.) Seated Agrippina, the mother of Nero. This is a most characteristic statue. In the expression of the head, the placement and attitude of the body, there is an trnresistingyet despairing intimation of a darkly threatening, inescapable fate - and one wouJd wish to be able to think less badly of her, because she was so unfortunate.

[p. 301] 4.) Marble group, called Hercules and Omphale. ROMAN DIARY, II 86

5.) The Captive Kings. How expressive! I shall never look upon these monuments of the Roman world tyranny without angry sorrow!

6.) Indian Bacchus, also called Plato. What sunshine on this brow, and what mildness in the cheeks.

7.) Bust of Euripides. Fine and sharp physiognomy. Hair and beard are splendidly executed.

8.) Marcus Brutus. The first and only one which my sense of physiognomy acknowledges as authentic. It is a very sensitive facial formation, full of nobility in expression! Deep sorrow and a quiet fire of high enthusiasm speak fiom every feature - and ah! the resemblance to Julius Caesar is unmistakable! Deeply sunk in contemplation, I forgot myself before this most unhappy of Romans, feeling his inward struggles in his bleeding heart. They led me carefully [p. 302] away from this favorite. I begged and prayed for a cast of this for me uniquely interesting head. - Then they whispered to me: "It is at present imprudent for foreigners in Naples to linger over the fucial expression of Marcus Brntus! No one would dare in these times to take a cast of the bust."

9.) Homer. A bust. This too is by far the most soulful of all representations of the father of poetry and the arts! There is a tenderness, inwardness and goodness in this nobly formed yet unidealized head which draws one irresistibly. - How thoughtful is the quietly furrowed brow! How gently closed the eye ofthe blind man. One divines, beneath the light eyelid, the soul- drunken gaze of the exalted bard. The lip speaks - how sweetly! How light and fancifully the silver locks are ruffled, and the beard like a bunch of grapes! And you are being mangled by the philologists! You, noble portrait! they want to tear away from us. I promise you, trusted Ancient, [p. 303] that I, like all Greece, will believe in you, as one and indivisible! You [Greece], whose unity is holier to me than all one-and-indivisible republics of our sunbeamsplitting and atom-dividing century [Du, dessen Einheit mir heiliger ist, als aile ein- und untheilbaren Republiken umers Sonnemtrahl spaltenden und Atom zertheilenden Jahrhunderts], which dissolves Aurora's tears in water and smothers the most glowing feelings of the human breast in the fog of cold doubts!

10.) Frightfully expressive bust ofCaraca1la

1 L) Pretty head, called Sappho. But this one does not spring from the Leucadian rock, and Raphael has her better in Parnassus.

12.) Some altars, with very fine bas-reliefs.

I spent the evening of this day in the large, more splendid than beautiful San Carlo Theater. They were giving the Opera seria, Cleopatra, ofCimarosa, and the celebrated Todi appeared in the title role. The interior decoration of the house is rich and variegated, but not ROMAN DIARY, II 87 tasteful. The music seemed to me mediocre; [p, 304] more glitter than truth, more noise than sense, more trills and runs than deeply penetrating strength and simplicity of tones and expression. T odi is aging; but her art is admirable, as is the flexibility, purity and gentleness of her voice; she is also a good actress, which one seldom sees with the great female singers.

.Portici Museum.

It is a strange feeling, pleasurable and gruesome at the same time, when one now stands in the midst of the life of the Greeks and Romans - with the covering veil removed from over the grave of the past, while above us the still open throat of Vesuvius once more threatens the holy relics snatched from their grave of ashes and law!

True, the vaults of the Museum are horizontal, and most solidly built with a view to the possibility of earthquakes. But who can protect them against lava streams? And against the fiery floods of the ashen rain that buried Stabio and Pompeii [p. 305] and covered with forgetfulness their many centuries' existence? If only at least the Studios in Naples had been completed! The last eruption of the lion was frightful; now he is digesting his own head, which he swallowed, and his awakening will perhaps be as dreadful as his present slumber is deep.

On the stairway, the far-off Armed Panas stepped splendidly forth to meet me in the old Grecian style. What a purely ideal head, and what a pose!

First Room of the Saerifieial Vessels.

I.) This little Leetisternium [furniture for a feast offered the gods], about the right size for a sacrificial meal for Psyche and Arnor, of fine bronze inlaid with silver, I would like to set up in a lonely rotunda and place the fair children of the Capitol on it

2.) This Sacrificial Table of white marble (from the Temple ofIsis) I would set in front of it.

3.) This pretty vessel (the Watering-Can) my three maidens would fill with milk; the [p. 306] lightly rounded basin with roses, wreathed frllits - and thus we would celebrate the most lovely representation of the purest union of the human race! All of these dedicatory kettles, sacrificial vessels and utensils combine the greatest efficiency of design with the greatest lightness and elegance. One learns here to understand Homer's descriptions, and to understand the high value set by the ancients on their tripods, vessels, etc. Form, function, material, all is equally noble, tasteful, and complete. What they called bronze is a composition which we do not know; it is often inlaid in the most lovely way with mother- of-.pearl and silver.

4.) The handsome, great brass tripod involuntarily drew a respectful glance. Was it intended for oracular pronouncements? It was impossible for me to think of this noble form as that of a mere kettle-holder - but I set it rather above the depths pregnant with the future. - But ROMAN DIARY, II 88 where is ?

Room of the Lamps.

[p.307] Here I admired, in the pregnant loveliness of the forms and their variations, the richest in fancy of all nations. In some lamps the wick was still visible.

Library-Room.

I.) The denuded (verkahlten) papyrus rolls were found in a buried country house at Pompeii. The columns are read from left to right, and tlrffied while reading from one roller to the other. The title hangs from the innermost center of the roll.

2.) In another cupboard in this room were numerous glass receptacles, of very light glass, but impure and badly formed; which led me to believe that the glass has already experienced the first degree of softening by reason of the heat, since deficiencies in form are not otherwise to be expected here.

3.) Colored glass paste articles of the highest perfection; their brilliantized pieces (die briWantirten Stiieke) [p. 308] are waterproof, and cut ordinary glass like diamond.

4.) The surgical instruments, which are almost perfectly preserved. Here Friend Domeyer (who has particularly studied this cabinet) read us a Collegium [i.e., gave us a lecture].

Room ofWeighls.

I.) The Stamp of the Capitol- which, like the Magistracy Stamp with us, was imprinted with the weights and measures. But was the stamp of the world-rulers imprinted on the representations of the Greek heroes, which served as weights? The scale seemed to us incomplete, the tongue was lacking. Although we have the tongue, oh weighing Wisdom, are you closer to us than to them?

Room of Busts.

I.) A child's head; beautiful like the one in the Palazzo Giustiniani.

2.) Young Commodus of great beauty; but the coming gladiator is already visible in the bull muscle [p. 309] over the forehead..

3.) Archytas of Tarentum, so called; a divinely beautiful bronze bust! I believed immediately in the qlriet, mild face of the wise one! With ambrosian locks, fair as an Indian Bacchus, a splendid old man. - I must admit to you in this connection, that Wieland's Arehytas had as much to do with my reverence in contemplating the splendid bust as did Plutarch's (in the ROMAN DIARY, II 89 life ofDion).

4.) Six unknown busts of fine work.

5.) A Scipio; certainly not the Afucanus, but much family resemblance.

6.) Fine head, called Ptolemy.

7.) Berenice, a wonderfully beautiful head; not ideal but most noble, and also in the artistically ordered fullness of the beautiful hair. This bust must be genlline! Pompeii was buried under Titus' government. What can be more natural than that people should have possessed the charming and lovely foreigner, the beloved of the venerated Emperor, in multiple casts?

8.) Handsome young Hercules.

9.) Alexander; handsome, but [p. 310] to me doubtful.

10.) Sublime head, known as Plato.

Room of Candelabra.

Here again is the colorful fullness of changing, richly imagined forms. We saw three different machines for boiling water, as cleverly conceived as they were eJegantly executed. Also there was a real tea machine, of the pretty vase fOTIn as they come to us, bronzed, from England. Indeed, how the English have studied these forms, combined their efficiency with elegance, and disseminated this pleasant taste in Europe!

Kitehen of Pompeii.

The hearth is set up according to the model of antique hearths. All bronze, iron and earthenware vessels are neatly placed on shelves and walls. The shapeJy water kettle is placed on the handsome tripod; beneath it lie coals. We [p. 311] kitchen-wise women recognized in the equipment of the old world: I.) Apple-slicing form (Aepftlseheiben-Form). 2.) Casseroles of different sizes, with much more conveniently placed handles than ours, on which one always blackens and bums one's fingers. 3.) Torte and cake-forms, one channeled in spirals, the other a melon form. 4.) Beaftteampiesse (? spits), just like ours. 5.) Earthen dishes, plates, pots, crocks, like ours; but everything (as it seemed to me from a distance - for a wire screen separated us from this feminine sanctuary) of finer material and pleasant and well-designed form. 6.) Funnels. 7.) Rost (? gridiron). 8.) Large, bronze meat-boiling kettle. 9.) A clean kitchen table of baked clay. You know that I used to be a capable cook. Here the old joy of cooking reawakened in the presence of these pretty kitchen utensils; the nobly formed tripod particularly attracted me, and I hated the intervening screen! ROMAN DIARY, II 90

Pantry.

[p. 312] Here stand in cupboards the numerous foodstuffs, recognizable in form, but all carbonized or hardened to stone. We clearly recognized eggs, pine-kernels, figs, lentils, pears, raisius, almonds, nuts, beans, groats, dates, a [loaf of) bread, a little torte, and a rubbery mass which is actually congealed wine and is said to be insoluble. Also dyes and a filet net.

In this room there is also a cupboard with all kinds of gold and silver trinkets, badly worked and without taste, but astonishingly well preserved; among other silver articles a chased vase with the Apotheosis of Homer.

Room ofMereury.

I.) Splendid statue of this god in bronze. 2.) The three wrestlers in lifelike attitudes.

Room of the Faun.

[p.313] I greatly prefer this young sleeping faun to the Barberini peasant. This one is pretty, sleeps so naively, and is altogether full of charm. 2.) Among the arms and armor, I was struck by a splendid bronze helmet; around about, the murder of Priam's family was represented in bas-relief, in excellent work - Ajax, Cassandra and the Altar of Pallas. This helmet was never worn; it was of immense weight. Almost all of the floor area of this room is covered with antique mosaic. In it is found the friendly - Salve! (? Salute!)

Room olMasks.

I.) This mask is of the greatest beauty, and gives an idea of how the masks (which were needed in performance in a larger room and beneath the open sky) could compensate for the mobility of the face by [reliance upon] the established norm and ideal expression. 2.) Here is also the stiek (der Stoek) from the [p. 314] barracks of Pompeii. which shows us how, in the absence of a generally acknowledged human morality, the finest esthetic formation is compatible with the crudest ferocity. 3.) The impression of the breast of a woman, in hardened ashes.

Room o.(Jsis.

l.) Remarkable is the statue ofIsis from her temple in Pompeii itself. 2.) Handsome ancient Greek vase with the Bacchanale. 3.) Some statues with nicely placed drapery. 4.) An Aesculapius and Hygiea in terra eotta.

Then follow some rooms with vases, bas-reliefs, small bronze Penates (some of them very nice); , in part very bad; among other things, a life-size skeleton of black and white stones, dreadful to look upon! Wbere can that have dwelt among Greeks? ROMAN DIARY, II 91

We spent the afternoon of this day at our Tischbein's. Here I notice today:

[p.315] I.) His Orestes and Iphigenia, after Goethe's immortal masterpiece. The posture ofIphigenia is modeled after Lady Hamilton [wife of the British Ambassador, Sir William Hamilton]. Orestes bears the most striking resemblance to Goethe himself As soon as I recognized this, Tischbein gave me the magnificent sketch as a reward (as he said, the good man!) for my physiognomical tact! This magnificent sketch is a representation of the most inwardly assimilated imaginative picture. The expression of deeply aroused loving concern in the face of Iphigenia, struggling with the joyful pain of the recognition of her brother in the sacrifice, and of the qlrietly frozen anxiety, not alone in the fixed regard, but in the whole body of the splendid Orestes, are of gripping truthfulness. The frightful beauty of the Eumenides, who flutter around his head, with floating garments and ideally ruffled serpentine locks, like halfvisible nightmares, bear witness to an imagination nurtured by the purest spirit of high Antiqlrity.

2.) I dwell with ever renewed delight [p, 316] on the divine Helena of my friend! Before her, I feel myself rapt in sweet repose. ~ Truly! The palm of completion, a beauty free of illusive color effects, seems to me, among all living painters, to belong to my dear Tischbein!

3.) I also saw today the Nolensian vase, copied on oil-soaked paper, of Don Niccolo Vizenzio, showing the murder of Priam's family. It is perhaps the highest and boldest effort, in drawing and expression, that art ever dared to attempt! Greatness, beauty, and soul-shattering truth are here united in highest completion as by a miracle.

Portici. Antique Paintings from Herculaneum and Pompeii.

Although guided by Tischbein, who holds these antique fresco paintings in high honor, I could not find enchantment here, as do so many people who are more fortunate than L ~ Seen as brushwork, nearly all offend [p. 317] my eyes. As from the unseen breath of higher spirits, some of these smears of bad painters in mediocre provincial towns have been breathed upon by noble ideas, and placed within bold outlines, which testifY more to the general dissemination of artistic capability, and the established convention in heroic figures, than to the quality of the artist who produced them. In the arabesques and other decorations, one enjoys the lovely interweaving of Greek myths and festivals, which are depicted in unfading colors. The best of these paintings are:

I.) The young Achilles and Cheiron.

2.) Dido.

3.) Theseus with the liberated young Athenians. This group is full of life and touching. ROMAN DIARY, II 92

4.) The lovely Woman at her Toilet.

5.) The famous [female] Dancers, the original idea of which was certainly most charming, whereas this appears to be only a bad copy, like that of the famous group of Plato and Aristotle from the School [p. 318] of Athens, or the three female heads from the Plundering of the Temple, which have been copied by all students.

6.) Among the ornaments, the Cicadas in a Cart drawn by a Parrot are lovely, as are the Quail and Water-wagtails (Baehstelzen). Notable is the model of the Theater of Pompeii, which first gave me a clear idea of the theaters of the ancients. I was particularly struck by the smallness of the stage.

Capo di Monte. Paintings.

From the immense collection which is conserved in this high mountain castle, I mention to you and me the following, not as decidedly the best, but as those I found most noticeable or eloquent to the mind and heart.

I.) Little Holy Family, assertedly by Lionardo da Vinci, a nice painting, but tu me doubtful.

2.) Holy Family, by Andrea del Sarto; a most harmonious painting.

3.) Four Sleeping Children, by [p. 319] Annibale Carraccio. The children of this great painter are ordinarily young heroes.

4.) Madre di Pieta, by the same.

5.) Mary, standing, with the children; a small and graceful picture, assertedly by Raphael. I knew it from the chamber of my friend Julie Reventlau [Reventlow?], who owns a splendid copy, probably by Francesco Penni.

6.) Some splendid portraits by Tiziano (Titian) and his pupils.

7.) A portrait by Lionardo.

8.) Divine Figure with the Small Urn, unmistakably by the great Lionardo. She has the heavenly eyes ofthe Christus Aldovrandini.

9.) Resurrection of Christ, a painting, full of the effects and the charm of the most blooming color, by Augustin Carraccio.

10.) Tizian's Danae. I acknowledge, in spite of my insensitivity to the paintings of the ROMAN DIARY, II 93 first of colorists, that this painting is the triumph of brush magic: '"The most beautiful woman woven from rose-glow and lily-snow." Everything about her is truth, and [p. 320] these melting half-shadows are most charming. None of the demands of the five senses remains unappeased; only this glowing yet spiritless face leaves the inward sense unsatisfied; and this is not Agathon's charming Danae. The painting is well preserved in all respects, and has not even yellowed; the farther back one moves in the depth of the great room, tbe more freely the figure emerges from the canvas, and becomes astonishingly alive.

II.) Sketch of the Last Judgment, by Michael Angelo. The great painting in the Sistine Chapel had always frightened me with its variegated confusion of strange positions and figures, and through the mystical darkness in which this dreadful representation is scarcely visible. I was glad to see this Shakespearian burlesque tragedy so near at hand and clearly. It is a powerful work of genius, like 's Devil and Klopstock's Hell.

12.) Holy Family of Raphael, and to my feeling one of the most beautiful works of the Virgil [p. 321] among painters. As virgin mother, as most gracious archetype of all artless innocence, I greatly prefer this Madonna to the Florentine lovely woman - this is an angel! The Christ child is here more tender than is usual with Raphael; the John is full of glowing strength; the former, a milk-lamb; the latter, a young stag! How grandmotherly the trusted Anna looks! What a harmony in these shades of color - what a paradisal simplicity gushes forth around these quiet figures! - He is yours, entirely yours, divine Raphael! The sketch of this noble picture, from Raphael's hand, is also preserved here!

Campanian Vessels.

This selective collection contains, according to my taste, the most finished forms among all I have yet seen.

I.) The largest of all the urns which have yet come to light, with the Battle of the Heroes against the Amazons.

[p.322] 2.) The nice little Vase, with the beautiful Muse.

3.) A very elongated Urn, in a form as unusual as it is unpleasant, is probably very, very old, from the childhood of art.

4.) Since all these art treasures were exhibited behind rather coarsely woven screens, and the very well-informed director of the museum was absent with the key, we could see only superficially - to me it seemed that in urns, vases, jngs, bowls, etc. the finest selection was here united with the most noble forms.

5.) Especially fine was a vessel which we would call a Terrine. ROMAN DIARY, II 94 6.) The gems, intaglios and coins were just as hermetically closed of[ Although I acknowledge my ignorance, I would have been glad to see the Sicilian, Greek and Asiatic coins, in which this collection is supposed to be very rich, under expert guidance. - But luck was very much against us; for our faithful Tischbein had also been unable to accompany us today!

[p. 323] The view from the windows of the high Capo di Monte (it lies so steeply that to get there one needs to harness four horses to a light chaise), over the old Campania to the shimmering chalk mountains of Abruzzo, is noble. From there the eye glides along the seam of the green Somma and over the plain of Nola. Beneath us lies the immense Naples, above which, in gentle lines and clad in soft green, the V omero, Martino and Posillipo make a friendly appearance. The heights of Calmaldoli and Astrumi look across to us with wooded crowns. The sea rolls silver-blue on the gently misted coasts. The air is so pure today that I can distingllish with the naked eye the houses on Capri, and at the same time it is warm and mild. The sunset was enchanting; the young sickle-moon swam in the reddish-blue aether like a silver boat!

Also, I am having a lot of trouble in maintaining a good mood - I am trying in vain, [p. 324] and all my friends here are trying in vain, to get me a passport for Ischia, the goal of my long wanderings! Since our court [i.e., government] does not belong to the League, they are tricking the Danes! For Baron * and his wife, both lame in the knees, are also vainly seeking to come over. To close the healing springs to the sick is a quite new form of barbarism, which one might scarcely seek on the Barbary, and certainly not on the Hesperian coast.

June 9 and 10.

On both of these days I was half sick, and wholly lazy at home. Domeyer is beginning to hope for my cure through these nuances of the Hesperianfar niente, but only through Ischia's hot springs, which are still closed to me. But even just to breathe this air in my lovely rooms with open balconies is medicine in itselfl Even now at the height of summer it is not too hot here on the Bay. Even at the midday hours, when the [p. 325] heaven scarcely shines silvery blue, the sea, raised by the lively south wind, undulates ultramarine blue, sown with millions of glimmering sparks, and one feels oneself breathed about by a life-wanning coolness which penetrates every fiber with comfortable well-being. In the afternoon begins the weaving of the pleasure boats and business traffic in the Bay; as the evening declines, the stream of coaches, continuous from Piazza Reale and Molo to and from Chiaio and Villa Reale (the Corso drive of the Neapolitans) presses past my window until after midnight, and only my deafuess assures my own sleep. But it is amusing to observe the teeming of sea and land in a single glance.

Far off shines the beginning of evening on Capri's towering crags, and sinks, lingering with gentle affection, in Anna-Capri's (Anacapri's) high cliff valley. On both sides of the island of the Bay, the view glides here to the right by the already gently shadowed tip of Posillipo, and there to the left past the reddened Cape Minerva into [p. 326] the broad sea! There, opposite me, rises the open throat of Vesuvius, filled only with the borrowed glow of twilight. Castell a Mare's (Castellammare' s) rocky prongs are veiled with purplish air, and the tender reddish ROMAN DIARY, II 95

distance opened toward la Cava! Sweet tints of color sink down from the sky and rise again, doubled, from the sea's mild bosom. - Gently the stars appear, in the stilJ mildly glowing aether - and, each time, you are lovingly greeted by me, oh Evening Star, and you, oh Crescent moon, redolent of memory!

How often I have already painted for you the evening scene of the Bay! Forgive me but, although I often name the same objects for you, nature has always shown them to me new and various! Yet delightful as physical existence in Naples is and will always remain, so long as eternal laws govern air, earth and sea - so sad is the life of society. Fear and suspicion rule all spirits - conversation, as soon as it is watched by more than four eyes, is anxious and [p. 327] tense - no one any longer trusts the other, and everyone distrusts even the walls, which, especially in the inns, often have ears!

It was not like this ten years ago, when my brother lived here in happy simplicity with Filangieri and the fair circle of noble youth whom the gentle philanthropist had drawn about him, and from among whom a cheerful sunrise of active, enlightened humanity was dawning for Hesperia [Italy; the West]! Many of the noble beings who, perhaps, in leaving Filangieri's presence also had laid aside his caution, now languish in the state prisons; others have already falJen victims to the trembling despotism!

"Soon we shall have to look for good society only in the state's prisons," a friend said to me. Filangieri's death, whose sad result was the separation [dispersal] of the union of the wise and good, was the greatest accident that could have befallen Naples - if it is otherwise true that the influence of a man of genius, who was a virtuous and wise man, is as unlimited as it is beneficent [p. 328] Many a double decade will the world sink before heaven and earth again unfold this flower of Paradise. 13

July 12.

Today, in somewhat cooler weather, I drove around in the town to see churches and paintings. The streets and buildings of Naples are tiring in their uniformity, and remote from the nobler architectural style of Florence and Rome. One street, one house is like another; there are no central points as there are here, and one feels at home only when one breathes the sea air and sees the highest peaks of the coastal mountains, or the open Vesuvius.

The costume of the women of the middle class here consists of a black skirt, a corset, and

13Note of the summer of 1800: Now, as I copy this, to judge by all of the public prints as well as my limited personal information, all of these noble people have perished, died in prison, been executed or brutally murdered by mobs stirred up against them. Pasquale Baffi, that noble man glowing with virtue and patriotism, has also been executed! ROMAN DIARY, II 96

[p. 329] a black silk Cappe, which is made fast on the inside with a Coulisse, fastened below around the waist, and is then thrown upward around the head like a veil. When one sees the women from behind, it is extraordinarily ugly, as when one throws one's skirt over oneself in an unexpected rain. From in front, the Neapolitan women's eyes find favor under any disguise; the roguish ones are piquant - the melancholy ones even more seductive. The rmming about of the busy, in part half-starving advocati, who slip past the coach on both sides in numberless crowds, amused me at first - until I looked more closely at the in part frightful caricature- faces of these national vampires, who pitilessly suck [the blood of] the people. It is welJ known that in this country, even [p. 330] in winning a law suit one can only lose. But the iIritable spirit of the people nevertheless leads it again and again into the spider web of the local judicial system.

Church of San Domenico Maggiore. 1.) They show here a Holy Family ofFra Bartolomei [5ic I 2.) A first spoiled, then restored Titian..

Theatine Church; Sopra Castore e Polluce. Like heroes of antiquity before pygmies of the present, two fine Corinthian columns stilJ stand erect before the petty pilasters of the facade of the church. The torsos ofthe heroes to whom the heathen temple was dedicated have been horizontally embedded in the pedestals of the two church saints on either side of the entrance, in order to show quite concretely their victory over the heathen divinities, but also the triumph of barbarism over art.

The Cathedral Church has neither the splendor of the Milanese or even the Florentine ones. [p.331.] It is Gothic, without being either large or noble.

I was soon tired of driving around in the interior of the city, with its noise and dust, and returned to my airy dwelling.

In the afternoon we visited the Molo, and for once mixed directly into this variegated, shouting, gesticulating crowd. When the Neapolitan once rouses himself, every movement becomes passionate - except those he undertakes for others, and at others' expense. The character and dress of the Neapolitan maritime population is pleasing and cheerful; it contrasts agreeably with the indolence in expression and the movements of the Lozzaroni, to which group the porters also belong to a certain extent, in that they are not equally occupied [i.e., equally unoccpied]. The Lazzaroni [sic] presumably makes up his mind, when need has him by the throat, to do a job; but then, when the immediate need is met, immediately sinks back into the dolce far niente.

The panorama from the tip of the Molo, [p.332] on the right into the bustle of Naples, across the Bay, and to the left over Ponte Maddalena into the country, and right, past Capri into the maritime distance, is as celebrated as it deserves to be. There is a general complaint about the dwindling of shipping because of the damaging war.

On our return it amused me to observe the tumult in the fish market on the arrival of the ROMAN DIARY, II 97 fishing boats with their evening catch. All of the fish are sold here immediately, and fresh from the waves, and one never has the unpleasant smelJ and view of spoiled fish, as in Rome and Copenhagen. With the evening vespers, the sale is ended and the market clean; and it goes just as fast in the morning. Presumably this is required by police regulations, aided by the taste for good fish on the part of the cloister -dwelJers.

I spent the evening at a concert given by the English Ambassador, Sir [William] Hamilton, to Prince Augustus of England. (p. 333] The tone in this hospitable house is as good as it possibly can be considering the present mood in Naples. Milady sang, and was accompanied by the Prince in a duetto. Her voice is full and beautiful; her gestures are suited to each song, and she can tastefully differentiate the complaisant lover from the performing actress. I saw her only for a moment as such, since she instantly transformed herself into the attitude of my Tischbein's Iphigenia.

Without knowing me personally, she had asked the Queen for a passport to Ischia for the far-traveled invalid. - This good-natured obligingness speaks from her entire being. She is a very beautiful woman, and as though stolen from the Bacchanale in the relief of the sarcophagus in the courtyard of the Belvedere. But she begins to be stout, and to lose her flowing outlines.

It is indescribable to what a cross-wind these Neapolitans expose themselves, even as they so anxiously warn the foreigners against the evening air. This (p. 334] evening all windows were open from the sea side inward, and all the doors throngh the rows of rooms; the lights of the musicians wavered this way and that, some even went out - and only we Northerners felt the draft, which on this warm evening seemed to the Neapolitans to be merely refreshing. Heat and draft together drove me away early, contrary to my own wishes. How beautiful are these evenings at the seashore, where one breathes a cooling that awakens life and slumber - but how little they are suited to numerous assemblies! ROMAN DIARY, II 98 BRUN95R IX. THE HERMITAGE ON VESUVIUS.

July 14, 17%. [p. 337] I fled from the noisiest of all cities, and from the distress one feels about the frightful tyranny which denies passports to foreigners, even for the nearby coasts of the Bay, and closes to far-traveled invalids the healing springs of the fair Inarime.13

For a long time my wishes had been attracted by the white hut of the hermit which shone down from the slope of Vesuvius. It was there, in purer air, that I now proceeded in company with my two children.

We left Naples at three in the afternoon; the air was mild; and as soon as we escaped (p. 338] the dust of the lava pavements and climbed upward above the grave of Herculaneum, cooling west winds breathed around us.

Portici, with its gardens, villas and palaces, hangs down along the lava walls of V esuvius, whose black folds extend everywhere in the form of high shore-cliffs beneath the city and into the sea.

The last road which one takes to the left leads steeply upward, and one exchanges the buildings for deep ruts in the old lava flows, through which one rides upward between grapevines and mulberry and carob-bean trees. The trees, bushes and shrubs are low; but their air is fragrant and their fruits are savory.

Dreadfully beautiful is the contrast continuously presented to us by Vesuvius and Somma. The latter is a disappearing monument of devastating force; the former, a frightening presence of the lion who is only sleeping!

Around us stretched downward the lava fields of 1767 and 79. The former already decorated with [p. 339] fragrant Genista shimmering in green and gold; the latter spread around in black wasteland.

Looking back as the climb continues, the sea behind us seems to surge downward from the horizon into vaporous sunshine; the islands rest in its glittering lap, and it draws close in friendship to the smiling coasts. Beneath us lies Naples on its lovely rounded bay, and the deep murmur of its teeming populace reaches us even here. The handsome heights which embrace the city in a sheltering crescent, San Martino, Vomero and Posillipo, disappear in the soft green

13Inarime Pithecusae are the ancient names of the island of Ischia. ROMAN DIARY, II 99

of the high elms, vines and fruit trees.

At every moment the view, before us and to the right, of the new craters which have broken through the sides of Vesuvius becomes more interesting.

These seven new Hell's ventilators are known to have opened up in the last eruption of 1794, when Torre del Greco was inundated by lava floods, and 200 feet of Vesuvius' sugar-loaf sank in its enlarged mouth. (p. 340] From a distance these openings appear rust-red, but one also distinguishes the bright yellow sulfur deposits around their edges.

We are still surrounded by small birch and elm groves, among which are entwined those precious mountain vines which yield the invigorating Lacrimae Christi wine. Now there rises before us, like a coastal rock formation, a high lava cliff, between whose white ashen walls, cemented to puzzolana like the strata ofPosillipo, we ride farther upward. Like a high tongue of land raised from the old lava floods, there stretches toward us the extended hill upon whose narrow crest the hermit's dwelling lies in a green glade under tall trees. On the right, Vesuvius raises its whitish, broken-off ashen cone, while its wide-open maw yawns toward heaven; on the left rise Somma's craggy, gray-black crater walls, clothed on the outside with the fresh green of fine chestnut and oak woods. Between the two peaks, and directly in front of us, [p. 341] the open crater valley, Atrio del Cavallo, sinks down from the hackground like a hell that has descended from the clouds. I was struck by the similarity between this lava valley and a glacier valley of the Alps; here solidified fire, there solidified water.

The sun was already beginning to set as I reached the small level part of the hill and entered the dusk of the splendid linden trees that here strove joyfully upward in the lighter air. Golden evening lights looked through the waving foliage upon the hermitage's white walls. I immediately felt such a sense of well-being in this familiar shade that I could not think of leaving this blessed place the next morning, but ordered our guides and for the day after, except for one man with his beast who remained for our service.

I took a quick look inside the little hut, where the green of lindens and the gold of evening splendidly patterned the white walls, ordered our supper [p. 342] at the hermit's, and hurried back to the high loneliness. As though floating between heaven, earth, sea and fire, this little place offers a viewpoint which will not easily find its equal, whether in regard to its remarkable situation or to the plenitude of great, numerous and thought-provoking objects that lie spread out before me in every direction, from the mountain swnmits to the sea's bosom, like an illimitable gallery of nature, an inexhaustible source of science, and a field of history that loses itself far off in the mists of sunset

As the sun nears the crest of the hills over Fondi's quiet, magic valley, the most distant viewpoints, like a new creation, move forward in circular fashion from the rising mists of the horizon. There in the outermost distance appears Monte Circello, like a legendary figure in the sea-mist. The mountain of Gaeta rounds itself upward from the sea's deep-sunken bosom. ROMAN DIARY, II 100 The Ponzian Islands bloom, like blue (p. 343] flowers, out of the gray sea mist. The boldly outlined summit ofEpomeo dominates the whole island ofIschia, which merely forms its slope. Lying in front of this island, but with intervening stripes ofreddish sea-floods always visible, are the flatter Procida, then Misenum's high foothill, then the lonely coast of Baiae, and the quiet, mirroring Bay. Veiled in peach-colored mists rises the hill ofPozzuoli; and the Punto di Posillipo, where the Bay of Naples begins, here separates the old world of shadows from the busy present But behind rise Monte Gauro and the Camaldolensian cloister, with their woods, dark blue; beneath them rest the high, far-gazing sulfur edges of the Solfatara, of the Val d' Astruni, of the lake of Agnano, the whole ancient world of fire! - The dazzling beauty of Naples, Portici, Resina lies far beneath me. In the middle ofthe Bay, Capri, that jagged sea monster, rears up defiantly, its whitish chalk cliffs gleaming like silver. On the left [p. 344], the opposite side of the panorama begins with the old Cape Minerva (today the Campanello di Massa). The whole lovely coast is a part of the eastern reflection. Massa's little white houses hang in rosy light on the abrupt, rocky coast; bathed in purple are the jagged cliffs above Castellammare and Sorrento's magical terrain. The shining tender green of the hillsides rises against the gold of evening; fragrantly the clefts are shadowed by the higher hill-woods of oak and chestnut Everything is bathed in the warm light of a heaven prodigal of blessings, and is encompassed by the sea's resounding waves!

"How delightfully are sea and land here interwoven!" I cried out with my friend in my enchantment

The sun has set, but the moon is rising, and throws its pale silvery light beneath the still blooming roses of evening, and into the wide sea.

Gray-white and dreadful to behold, Vesuvius towers above. Beside me, (p.345] deeply sunken, the old Campagna fe/ice rests in green waves of frnitfulness beneath the heaven of high elms and vines; far off lies Capua, and, on the lightly rising heights of the Apennine, Caserta.

A reddish-violet mist overhangs this greening depth. For a long time, the twilight's orange- and gold-striped girdle hangs over Fondi's mountain strata; but the eternal stars tremblingly project their pure primeval light down into the stilllness of the night

July 15. How totally the scene is changed! A powerful storm is howling through the clefts, and whirling clouds of ashes from the cone of the mountain, which then travel, gradually sinking, far over land and sea, as far as the cliffs of Capri; and, as they are driven by the wind from north to south, they lower a curtain over the entire eastern shore of the Bay. Seen from Naples, these clouds of ashes, whipped up by disturbances in the upper atmosphere, resemble the mountain's exhalations [p. 346] of smoke, and have often deceived my eruption-greedy Karl in this respect. But not for many centuries has Vesuvius been as deeply asleep as now. ROMAN DIARY, II 101 I went along the slope of the hill above the little green valley of Vetrano, sunk between me and Somma's walls like the deep bed of a dried-up mountain torrent. Like a Stygian flood, the great lava stream of 1788 is still visible, and the chapel which stemmed its flood lies there overturned.

As through a magic telescope directed out from the dark present, one looks from the valley's cleft into the luxuriant green of Campania, where Capua lies in the gently sunken lap of the valley, and Caserta far off on the blue mountain seam.

I wander on nothing but hardened ashes, from which every gust of wind stirs up the light surface around me. Out of these barren ashes grow nut, chestnut, apple, pear, medlar, and carob trees, and young vines grow around in a friendly manner. But the intolerable ash-dust drives me back into the little [p. 347] hut Charlotte had awakened, and Karl was already back from a mineralogical excursion among the lava streams, heavily laden with the booty he had gathered I talked a lot with the elder hermit, Pater Domenico from Genoa, a much traveled, experienced man of the world, who, after thirty years of knocking about, fled from a world in which he found no contentment, and is now willingly leaving Vesuvius, where he also failed to find the repose which we vainly seek outside of ourselves.

At noon the storm abated, and after lunch we first rode along the back of the high tongue of land, which, built up little by little from lava streams and ash deposits, now stands proudly like an elevated peninsula between the later lava floods, and is more secure from the flowing fire than is the coast far below.

We first took the usual route of the Vesuvius pilgrims as far as the Cross, i.e., to the point where one leaves the [die MaulthiereJ and climbs the actual ash cone, which [p. 348] here rises abruptly from all sides. Karl showed me the ronte he had already twice followed, up to the edge ofthe funnel, which since the last cave-in has been so sharply cut off that one finds no place to rest above but must ride along the very edge, one leg directed outward toward Naples, the other into the interior hollow of the mountain. Women in recent times have allowed themselves to be carried up from here; but the very thought of seeing the men sinking knee-deep in ashes at every step, and panting under my additional weight, robbed me of any desire to climb higher.

We turned now to the left, and rode for an hour continuously through lava fields, first over the Vetrano valley, through that deep and powerful stream of 1788, which leaped down nom the high Atrio del Cavallo like a fiery cascade. In front of us rose the black, abrupt crater walls of Somma, whose long and fresh green edge one sees from Naples; but we rode between high (p. 349] overshadowing lava remnants, on rough slag, up to Atrio del Cavallo. The floor of this valley was apparently the bottom of the old crater of Somma, now raised by the fallen remains of the burned-out volcano and the lava floods of Vesuvius.

I spent a long time nosing about in this valley of desolation, observing with wondering ROMAN DIARY, II 102 curiosity the variety of the types of lava, their colors and forms. I also found remarkable the crunching sound of the slag beneath our feet; many patches give out a clear metallic tone, others sound like shards of broken glass. Finally we found ourselves directly beneath the bare, eroded and broken-out crater walls of the old Somma, just where the life of the vegetation begins, amid the burned-out slag, with sparsely distributed broom and everlasting bushes. It would be impossible for me to describe the intimidating dimensious of this dark valley of fiery death, which was itself for thousands of years the deeply hidden fire-hearth of the old Vesuvius, (p. 350] and is now the broad basin into which the new Vesuvius emptied many of its most frightful outpourings.

As there, above the quiet peaceful valleys of Helvetia, between the granite walls of the Alps, high glacier pyramids seem to sink down from the air above, so here the black brushed tips of the Acherontian floods, now hardened into cliffs, appear to be descending stepwise from the blue heavens.

We are surrounded, farther than we can see, by jagged heaped-up black and gray lava remnants; everything about us is silent, and only the past speaks! But as we leave this dark labyrinth and look about us /Tom the free hillside, we are embraced by all the loving beauty of the Hesperian heaven, and all the magic of a suuset over Parthenope's coasts.

I visited the resting place of the hermits who have died here. Where the lonely crosses stand, to the left of the little chapel, under young trees, I saw the sun sinking, (p. 351] and the fair pale pattern of immortality, the moon, rising behind the eastern mountains. What heavenly peace this evening instilled into my breast! Deep beneath me fell away all the inquietudes of life, into those heavy mists of the underworld, and my uushackled bosom was raised by noble thoughts of immortality, the future, and the indivisibility of moral beings, whose perceptive consciousness was raised, even here in its narrowly enclosing shell, to the high life of the spirit

A veil of twilight gradually spread itself above the others; between the islands and coasts, white, rose-colored mists moved here and there, lingering on their outlines, until finally only the rough foothills ofMisenum and the high summit ofEpomeo stood out above the prevailing obscurity.

July 16. How sweetly one sleeps in this isolated retreat, where yesterday evening [p. 352] I was slowly rocked to sleep by the shimmering moonlight, and was awakened early today by the peeping light of morning! How largely and brightly the scene had opened, when I again trod beneath the lindens! The sun was just rising over the high mountains, wakening the islands and coasts from their light morning slumber, and relieving them of their light veils of mist as a tender mother gently and gradnally wakes the children glowing in healthy slumber! The mirroring depths of the Bay were ruffled by the breath of sunrise, and soon arose in brilliance the awakened nymphs of the sea. How the plain of Campania shimmered beneath me, all its ROMAN DIARY, II 103 vineyards strewn with rainbows and jewels! How clear was the air, and how mild! This last is always true of the Italian morning air; but I have seldom, this year, found it clear and free of mist How much more cheerful were the morning airs on the Lake of Geneva!

But now I must leave this gracious loneliness, in which I have come to be so much at home!

[p. 353] We rode down the hill, then to the left into the labyrinth of the hundred-armed lava streams, over and through as far as the Bocca nuove [sic].

Touching is the modestly budding young life of the vegetation in the old lava masses. It grows in noticeably different relationships to the time that has passed, depending on the differences in the material that has been fused together and the extent of its disintegration, or vitrifaction, by the volcanic heat Between the lava deposits,ditches, rivers and walls, grapevines or fruit trees have been planted on every patch of earth which either clings to the lava or has formed itself in the cracks; and the bright green of the vines and treetops casts light shadows on the gray and black lava.

We refreshed ourselves, in the dreadful heat, on the cooling fruit of a mulberry tree. All wine that is brewed here is called Lacrima; that I never drank it unadulterated in Naples was something I noticed during [p. 354] the days when I drank from the hermit's cellar.

We now came over the stretch of lava which in 1794 had turned threateningly toward Portici and Resina, but then suddenly halted on the slope above and between the two towns. Around us, all of the fissures in the lava which had cracked in cooling were emitting hot vapors.

We climbed up to the edges of the three middle-sized craters, and looked far down into their deep funnels. The ground glowed beneath our feet; sulfurous vapors were rising everywhere, and almost visibly forming before our eyes the beautiful crystallizations, on slag and hardened ashes, which are known as sulfur flowers. This sulfur steam (which has so little in common with the smell of iguited sulfur, that I would rather call it sulfur scent) is to me most agreeable. I inhale it easily, and it revives me here right away after the exhausting ride; furthermore, it is probably sulfuric acid [SchwefrlsaureJ that is exhaled by these sulfur flowers; for I (p. 355] noticed, when I broke off these shining blossoms from the edge of the now extinguished abyss, and held the warm piece to my lips, that it had a very pure sourish taste. The air in the Solfatara and in the clefts of the Pisciarelli had a similar effect on me; whereas at the lake of Aguano, in Pozzuoli, and in the ruins ofMisenurn, I was seized by an anxious drowsiness and was unable to breathe freely.

I went three-quarters of the way around the edge of these closely adjoining craters, which have merged into a single crater above and have little separating walls only below. Above us, on Vesuvius' rising ashy head, we still see two smaller fiery openings, and higher up the broken wall of the hill from which the lava flowed. Beneath us, the two small craters were now fallen ROMAN DIARY, II 104 in and filled with debris, out of which, however, fountains of flame spurted into the air near Resina. All these openings hang horizontally one above the other, down the slope of Vesuvius. We overlooked (p. 356] the course of the lava, which, at first divided into three separate arms, menacing first Portici, then Resina, suddenly reunited itself above the unfortunate Torre del Greco, finding its way over the town, the church, and the shore to throw itself into the sea.

From the edge of this still glowing hell-hearth we looked out upon Campania's ever- smiling green expanses, and down into the cool and vigorous life of the blue sea; then across to that circle of primeval volcanos, to Posillipo, Agnani, SoJfatara, Astruni, Camaldoli, Pozzuoli, Monte Gauro, Ischia, and the far-offPonzian Islands.

It is very understandable that nearly all the mineralogists hereabouts become geological volcanists; just as the more illustrious and consistent buildup of the Alps forms Neptunists. For seldom does man raise himself above the physical probability which surrounds him with a thousand speaking voices; and it requires a great mind, in the midst of the fiery nature where Vulcan conquers Neptune in the lap of the floods, (p. 357] to listen to the quieter testimony of lonely ice-covered Alpine peaks.

Toward midday we were back in Naples, where to my great joy J found the so long desired and painfully awaited passport which opens to me the objective of my journey, the springs ofIschia. It was notto the rightness andjustice of my affair, but only to the persuasive speech of friendship ITom the mouth of the noble Caroline Trendel (widow of the great Filangieri) that I owe this good fortune. The Queen could not withstand such heartfelt prayers, and I am sailing over to the old fire-island the day after tomorrow. ROMAN DIARY, II 105 BRUN95R,continued x.

EXCERPT FROM THE DIARY OF MY STAY ON THE ISLAND OF ISCHIA.

July 18,1796. [p.361] At 6:30 AM. we were all seated, accompanied by our servants, in our vessel. I was rarticularly cheerful and confident in the future, under the protection and guidance of Hippocrates Domeycr, J4 the fine doctor and true friend, who is going with me in order to investigate the springs of the island and adapt their use to my condition. We pushed off from Chiaio, said goodby to OUT fine inn aile Crocelli, and glided around the Castell del Uovo into the Bay.

It was a compJetely calm morning; a thick sea fog enveJoped alJ objects, {p. 362) and covered the shore, so that we did not see the heights of Castell del Uovo in sailing past its lava foundation.

Little by little, the whole shimmering world around the Neapolitan Bay was newly born forward out of these mists, and beautiful Parthenope rose as from the waves, shining upward in a splendid crescent around the mirroring sea-basin.

These morning mists are not unusual here, and were commonplace all through this not very beautiful spring and summer.

As we glided past Posillipo, Domeyer instructed me concerning its presumed origin, or self-creation, from the depth of the sea through its own eruptious. Domeyer believes, however, that he has found, on the southernmost tip, unmistakable traces of an old crater, whose southern, broken-out wall is the island ofNisida; while the fallen-down tuff and puzzolan cliffs between Punto di Posillipo and the island are surviving witnesses to the disruption of the shoreline.

(p. 363] Indescribably magical was the morning scene in the quiet floods of the Mare Chiare, under the tip ofPosillipo and the cliff ruius ofGaiolo. Hereon bare tuff walls stand remnants of the house of Asinius Pollio (popularly called la Scllola di Virgilio), and, from the mirroring depth of the crystalline sea, this fully built wall of the Romans everywhere looks out

It was always in hasty passage that I looked into those now so sunken depths of the sea- surface beyond Pozzuoli and Baiae, toward the lonely heights ofthe Gaurus (now Monte Barbaro) and the son of the new world, Monte Nuovo. Emerging from the thinning mist, on shores devoid of people, rose the ruius ofBaiae and Bauli; and the splendid pillars of the Bridge

14personal physician of Prince Augustus of England. ROMAN DIARY, II 106

of Caligula stand unshaken, played about by the waves.

We landed at Cap Misenum, and I climbed the heights of the foothill, where everywhere in the sea-cliffs were remnants of the complete [p. 364] Opus reticulati. Like sea birds, these Romans have built their nests everywhere in these Hesperian coasts!

Glistening forward out of the fogs, Capri raises the bold outlines of its gigantic body. This huge chalk hill stands here alone, a slowly formed son of Amphitrite, among all the volcanic islands and coasts which the flame-spewing Titan poured forward from his deep fire hearths! For with Capri, which lies nearer the chalk cliffs ofthe Massa foothills, begin the mountain chains of the Apennines.

Now we enter the delightful strait between Cap Martino and the island of Procida, passing at the same time from the Bay of Naples into that of Gaeta. This long island dumped down in front of Ischia is carefully built up like a garden. Friendly is the seaward gaze of the nice little town on the shore, while the governor's ",ilite castle looks down from the high tuffcliff. Imposingly rises [p. 365] the darker green Pithecusa behind Procida, while the high Epomeo raises itself into clear air, girdled with clouds. Procida's other side, toward lschia, is rough and abrupt Before each of these foothills of the coasts and islands lies a mass of rocks or a cliff-ruin against which break the foaming waves.

Between the two large islands lies the little island ofVivara, probably a bit of debris which fell out when Procida was torn from Ischia. A smaller example of a similar revolution is that cliff of Gaiolo, between Posillipo and Nisida.

We are now at the eastern tip ofIschia. A mass of rocks lies picturesquely in front of the island, and bears the Castell on its high skull. A lava dam connects the fortress with the little town of Borgo d'Tstria, whose well-built houses stand on a flat shore bordered by friendly green heights.

We leave this pleasant glimpse behind (p. 3661 us, steering along the volcanic shore of the island and looking out curiously to see whether our home will be located in cool shade or on sun-drenched heights.

There the lava stream flowed into the sea, the last emission from the glowing lap of Epomeo!

Brown tuff scallops, yellow puzzolan walls, and, on Portici's shores, rolled-down lava cliffs surround the coasts of the island like fencing.

We finally land on the flat shore between Castiglione and Lacce. Donkeys [Esell for my followers, and a sedan chair for me, stand ready. The heat is frightful; but my fast-moving bearers run uphill with me between white rock walls, on white paths, between white arbor walls ROMAN DIARY, II 107 (zwischen weissen Rebbergmauern) and white houses! Then I am in my house! It lies quite isolated, 011 a sun-drenched vineyard. The situation is precious! In front of me the sea; behind me rises, in a far-flung, deeply sunken crescent, the jagged Epomeo; the sun flames on its jagged white [p. 367] tuff surface, but it is green with vines to a great height, and strewn with houses.

Afternoon. Only after the sun's glow had become milder, and a milder illumination had adorned nearby objects with gentle chann and made the more distant ones visible, only then did we fully comprehend the beautiful view about which I shall have occasion to rejoice without disturbance from all my windows and the flat roof of my house for five or six weeks.

The number of objects is so great that I am afraid of losing myself in it, and undertake an imaginary subdivision. My faithful compass, which never leaves me, is brought out, and as the infallible needle determines, each object is assigned to its place, in order that I may know not only what I see but where I see.

So: From my vine-clad hill that rises freely from a green shore-valley on the southern slope of Epomeo, I looked without hindrance to the east., north and west.

East. No larger and more magically [p. 368] lofty painting can be imagined, or could be attained by any art, than is here opened by the Gallery of Nature, and which, poured out where the happy gaze sweeps over the nearby land areas and between the foothills of Procida and St Martino, splendidly and charmingly interwoven between sea and land, forms an aerial, aqueous and linear perspective such as my eye has never before seen. Above the fruitful, cheerful green islands of Procida and Vivara stands the picturesque C-ap Misenum, flashing white, rising up at the end of the long peninsula; and over this narrow hill-dam I am looking into the small and attractive Bay ofBaiae, bordering on Pozzuouli's mountain. Farther back and gently swelling rises the bent Posillipo, shone upon, rather than covered, with bright green, and its outennost tip bathed by the sea. The high mountain of St Martino, castle-crowned, recedes tar into the backgound, and in front of it reposes the mountain of the Camaldoleusiaus, which forms with the Gaurus of the ancients a broadly [p. 369] delineated and gradually descending ridge, whose long seam extends from the East via the North and into the sea, and formerly bore Cumae on its green side. This whole majestically rising line is consistent with Vesuvius, and the summits, sunk inward in crescent shape, are unmistakably of volcanic form. Beneath this splendid chain of mountains lie the valleys and lakes of Solfatara, Astrumi, Agnani, Averno and Mare morte; the shining sulfurous edges of the first-named are everywhere clearly visible.

Passing by Posillipo, the gaze glides on shining blue waves to where Vesuvius in the tender veil of silence stands always alone, as though isolated in majestic size; and, once again, forming a foreground or rather a middle-ground to this astonishing view, there appear, flanking the volcano's sinking sides, bright blue distances of the Apennines, as though drawn on the air with an ethereal brush. As though lightly fleeing from one another, the airy mountain chains extend themselves, Ip. 3701 to the right into the Neapolitan, and to the left, beyond the ROMAN DIARY, II 108

Campagna felice, into the Roman Abruzzo.

The shimmering white houses and palaces ofPortici, Resina, Torre del Greco and [Torre] dell' Annunziata lie untroubled at the foot of the resting lion, cradled by the song of the waves, as by Sirens' songs, into fearless slumber. Far to the right, in the easternmost East, the toothlike cliffs rise boldly over Castell a Mare. All this just in the east!

North Here in the northeast, the bay of Gaeta begius with Cap Martino, and my lovely dwelling island lies at the tip of the border between the two gulfs, as Capri lies between those of Naples and Salerno.

In the far depths I see the houses in Cajetan's foothills; behind the freely rounded Bay, picturesque perspectives open in the mountain spurs ofFondi, Terracina, and perhaps as far as Veletri. In the northwest rises, like a dream picture from primeval times, the high Cape Circello, lonely rising from the sea's bosom.

[p. 371 J West. Beside me to the west, a pleasant valley makes its way, where the little town ofLacce lies in wine and fruit gardens on the nicely rounded little harbor. Bordering it, high cliff banks swell up on the other side, scalloped as by a playful hand; over their heads I look into open sea-distances, where on the misty horizon the Ponzian Islands lie lightly scattered. Three of them look upward like single sea-cliffu; two are more flatly extended islands; and now, between two of these high cliff islands, as between Pillars of Hercules, the sun sinks into the sea!

With what delight I see it sink in a holy maritime flood, and with what delight I saw the moon rising over the sunken craters of the very ancient Epomeo, words cannot tell; only the feeling of the innermost being tells it to you, oh thou Giver of all great and complete gifts! with quiet tears.

(p.372] July 23. Four days have passed me like hours, in gracious nature-surrounded solitude! Why are you not beside me, on the flat roof of my house, or in my dear arbor, on the western slope of my hill, where I sit with Charlotte under carob-bean, pomegranate, and fig trees, between which vines loaded with swelling bunches of grapes are creeping, and pass these delightful afternoous with Tasso, or one of the beloved friends' trefoil" in hand - at first often looking up from the book, [I] follow every gradation of the light in the fairest distances, then lay down the books and take up my knitting, until this too sinks from my hands, and I quite lose myself in sweet contemplation. See! How drenched in rose tints the white tuff-puzzolana and chalk-breccia cliffs of Mis en urn, St Martino and Procida are smiling! (p.373] Higher up, the far-off sulfurand alum- walls of the Solfatara, the Monte Secco, and the other old craters. Purple lingers in the chestnut and oak groves on Monte Gauro, and over the place of the old Cumae, the daughter of

15The writings of Matthisson, Bonstetten and Salis. ROMAN DIARY, II 109 Pithecusae, the grandchild of Chalcis.

The sea-waves play in animated, heaving motion between the coasts and islands round about; in far-off mists, Vesuvius rises into pearl-blue air; like purple-striped flocks, the cities lie around his foot; clad in dark violet stands Castell a Mare's wildly jagged rock-horn.

Below me rest Ischia's small subordinate valleys, where here and there a single pine, a taller cherry tree, or a laurel bush, shone through by the evening sun, detaches itself more darkly against the prevailing bright green, and light shadows wander over the heights and through the clefts.

Everything is animated, and the red of evening with its milder light greets every secret depth, each (p. 374] hidden ground of the much-furrowed hillsides, on which little white houses are everywhere scattered up and down. Now glows (entgluht) the high sugar-loaf ofSt Nikolo (St Niko is the popular name for the highest peak of Epomeo), and one sees the hermitage hewn out from the rocks. This highest summit of Epomeo, a dazzling white weathered-down tuff rock, stands as though irradiated by the last sunbeam! Long shado"is sink do"m on the roughly raised mountainsides, and now the sun floats, like a fireball, in reddish-yellow mists on the sea! Now it touches the top of the waves, which seem to round themselves off beneath it; then it slowly and majestically sinks between the cliff islands ofPalmarola and Ventotiene into the lap of bluish Amphitrite, and in that moment appears the farthest Roman shore, only to disappear again immediately amid rising mists.

[p. 375] July 25. I am living in complete solitude, physically and morally isolated! Since no one gets passports, there are no cure guests here except the poor people of the hospital. The cure itselt: which is very trying, and the topography of the island, where one can only go up and down on sun-glowing paths between heated walls, is not very conducive to promenading, and would make it pleasant only around and after sunset; but then I have to avoid the air. However, between the siesta and sunset I do take little pleasure rides, for over the island of Ischia there goes no wheel (as Haller says of the Alps)! In this way I visited the little town ofCasamiccia, which hangs on the toothill, overlooked by Epomeo and almost over my vineyard. It was the great teast of St Magdalena, the patron saint of the town, and the exuberant public was assembled on the square in front of the church and within it. Inside they were reading mass, finnigating, and praying on the rose-wreath; outside they were dancing to the tambourine (p. 376], shouting with joy, and devouring fruits, ices, gingerbread and gaiety.

I invited a young girl to dance; but no one wanted to take the liberty, and I saw afterward that they were right A couple of young seamen began a dance, and a girl beat on the tambourine; but gestures and postures were so improper, so shameless, that l, full of inward disgust, and trembling for the innocent looks of my children, withdrew from the narrow circJe of spectators, and told my servant to pay the bilL ROMAN DIARY, II 110 The people are yellow-brown, the tacial tormations are very fine and sharp, the noses delicately bowed, and the space between the flashing eyes normally very narrow. The people are small on the whole, the men have very black curly haiL The women's costume is not disagreeable, and looks well on the pretty ones. Fine white skirts of cotton material, colorful silk jackets and aprons with gold braid, the hair plaited, [p. 377] and with a negligently hanging silk kerchief, held up as with resin (? wie mit einer Resina aufgenommen). A veil of transparent weave, almost ala Frascarana, is laid on the head, around the neck a silk scarf, and the jacket laced up with gold over a very colorful and stiff bib or flap (f .a:tz). The people, men and women, go daily in very clean white linen, the men withjust shirt and short trousers. The male costume is the usual seamen's attire.

I rode back by way of Lacce; it lies peacefully on the rounded bay, beneath the volcanic heights which stand in the west, so that the lovely valley enjoys an early shade. Hot baths also flow from these hills, and from the hollows there rise hot vapors which are used for sweat baths, the strongest of which is called la Stufa del Diavolo (the Devil's Oven).

The view from these green heights down into the sea, and over the island's delightful coasts, is very fine. Here still bloomed (though [p. 378] nearly finished) myrtles, oleander and Caprifolium; aloe and caper plants hung down on the cliffs.

The baths of the Monte miserecordio [sic], or the hospital, which I take, powerfully affect the perspiration and cause extreme sensitivity, even against this mild aiL The morning air is very damp, and fogs often circulate around the mountain slopes until about eight o'clock; but it (the air) is also extremely soft, and I enjoy it every morning from five to nine o'clock, when the heat drives me from beneath my vine-trellis and into the house. But at sunset there is a fresh breeze which is refreshing to healthy people but very damaging to the cure guests.

One day passes like another on this my sun mountain.

These wells, which have boiled in the hidden, deep hearths of old volcanos, have an extremely powerful effect, and although by the thermometer the water is not as hot as the springs of Carlsbad, it may nevertheless [p. 378] require more time to cool, which is perhaps attributable to the greater density of this mineral-laden fluid. Chemical and physical analyses of these springs are as yet unknown; but they work none the less admirably; for the fifteen minutes that I spend in the bath each evening before going to bed often oblige me to change my linen eight or nine times in the following twenty-four hours, which is extremely tiresome. But under these mildly open heavens, the good effects of the baths are not, as happened to me in Carlsbad, neutralized on the spot by rough drafty winds. Though I am attacked, it is without pain, and the pulse rises with the freer, unimpeded circulation of the blood. I also use the local steam bath for my ears, and really feel at times as though, as with Sappho in Elysium (see Wieland's TodtenGesprache [Dialogues of the Dead]), the scales fell not from my eyes but from my ears.

In the afternoon [of July 26] I rode down to Lacce, then [p.380[ up on the western ROMAN DIARY, II 111 heights above the little town to the villa of the Neapolitan Prince Aqua-Vita, which lies pleasantly and with a wide view on the slope of two tuff-stone hills. Nothing can be compared with the loveliness of this Hesperian afternoon air! Even in the midday hours, when air, sea, shore, heights and depths all glow, the heat is of course intense, but the atmosphere never bore me down with that leaden weight which constricted my breast in the hot days of our northern summer Cooling sea breezes blow as early as 4 P.M., and I can then ride without special complaint; but healthy people (my children do it every day) can take respectable walks from this hour on.

From here we looked over the northeastern mountain terrain, broken up into steep hills and subdivided by little valleys, and at the finely delineated coast, through the white forelands as far as Vesuvius; to the left, next to the round black sea-rock, Punto di Thonaro, [p. 381], [we looked] through a picturesque valley cleft into the sea toward the north.

Above us to the south rises, near at hand, the grotesque brown rock formation called il Arbu5to (the Shmb), like an old monstrous tree skeleton. With high and widely separated, cloven and riven flanks, Epomeo drab'S its spiky prongs through the whole island, which actually is nothing but its own slope. Beneath me, in the pretty vine-clad valley, shaded by fig trees, lies the little town, whose white houses begin to turn pink in the sun. All of the garden soil of this villa is shipped over here from the Campagna felice, and here on the barren cliffs it bears splendid fruit, among which I tasted wonderful peaches. Completely ripe and juicy peaches are rare here; for the peach, which is a Persian product, wants to be cultivated even under Hesperian skies; but the cultivation of fruit trees is greatly neglected.

For three months not a drop of rain has faIlen on the island ofIschia, and just consider the dryness of this volcanic earth! But [p.382] balsam trickles down every night, and the sea fogs here seem to be favorable to the vegetation; for the trees and vines, even at the shore, are still very fresh, while grass and herbs are dried up and withered. The snakes bothered me at first; they are always slithering across the path betore my teet, and stretch their long necks out to the stone edgings. But the inhabitants iusist that the island nurtures no poisonous creature, and that snakes and scorpions here lose their poison within a few days. This much is certain, that some of my housemates found a scorpion in their bed in the morning, after having passed the night with impunity with this suspicious bedmate. Since in general I am seldom afraid and don't like to be, I am now again sitting without anxiety on my accustomed spot on the stone barrier from 4:30 AM. reading in Tasso, Anacharsis and Marcus Aurelius; a vine-trellis four to five hundred paces long is my promenade. These morning hours are sacred to me, eternally unforgettable - dedicated to self-knowledge, to unification with myselft

[p. 383] Long streaks of mist extend upward from the valley to the mountain peaks and refresh the high mountain vegetation, which is still tenderly green as it is with us in May. Above, the mists transform themselves into clouds and sail majestically away through the blue sea of the aiL Fishing boats return from the high seas to the little harbors of the island with rich booty, and beneath me the call to early mass rises from the chapel of St Antonio. ROMAN DIARY, II 112

July 27. Pallazzo Casamiccia. I have just learned that our house bears this name, because it lies below the village of the same name and is distinguished from the smaller houses of the island by being tall, white, and visible from a distance.

In the afternoon we rowed from the Marina (the little landing-place below our hill, and near the brick works) past the little harbor of Lacce, in the middle of which there lies a cliff in the shape of a mushroom to which the sailors tie their boats. Then we rounded [p. 384] the high western foothill of Pun to Thonaro, which takes its name from the anchor bracket (! Anker- klammer) of the great tunafish net that lies in front of it Such a net by itself costs 5,000 ducats; there are three of them on the island, and this important fishery is le.ased. As one comes out of the little quiet harbor, rounds this sheltering toothill and enters the open sea, the whole of nature is transformed. The green valleys, the vine-hills, the little groves hanging on the mountainside, the villages, churches, and single houses have all disappeared; the whole island appears to be a volcanic ruin, 16 and is a volcanic ruin. Hills tom from Epomeo by earthquakes lie with their menacing foreheads hurled far out into the sea; tremendous black-gray blocks oflava are heaped up high; everything is split asunder, uprooted, thrown hither and yon! Tuff, lava, puzzolan, yellow, brown, gray and blackish, lie entangled, [p. 385] rolled over and over. What dreadful annals! What frightful lava flows have layered this rocky shore? What a teIrible shaking hurled the mountain slope down from the summit ofEpomeo, so that the naked spine now stares dreadfully into the air? Such traces are shown neither by Vesuvius nor Solfatara. It was then, perhaps, that the old inhabitants of Pithecusae fled like frightened doves to the foot of Gaurus and founded Cumae, the queen of the sea, who gave her name to the whole bay.

Presently we came to a spot where the dark lava remnants of the shore were covered with a white coating of ashes, which, though unquestionably long since hardened into puzzolana, still seemed soft and sprinkled on top. The sea played now in friendly wise in the dark hollows of the shore, and now rolled foaming breakers up against offshore cliffs. Now foothills of a milder green and little vineyards loosed themselves from the naked heights; but everything is still (p. 386] of an unquiet and torn formation. We now suddenly caught sight of the pretty little town of Furia d'Ischia on a long, narrow (one cannot say isthmus), but rather built out into the sea on a lava and puzzolan dam. A pleasant sight after the great emptiness! Yet this southwestern side of the island is not nearly so pleasant, green and inviting to look at as our southeastern one. It was getting late, and we tumed around this time without landing on Fnria.

The people of the island have something of a childlike modesty in their nature. Their speech is quite awful, since they distort every word; but mimicry and gesticulation are full of expression. Those who cultivate closer relations with the foreigners know the value of money as well as do the Romans and Neapolitans.

16See Wieland's Oberon. ROMAN DIARY, II 113

July 28. Fresh air and pure distances! Opposite us, at the foot of the cloud-surrounded Massicus, shone the white coast, from which [p.387] the quiet Liris flows beneath Mintumae's ruins into the sea.. The water was forget-me-not blue, and sparkled with the trembling glow of the sun. Fifty or sixty Neapolitan galiots [small coasting vessels] came from the western horizon of the sea, like swans descending from the aether, ever closer, divided themselves directly off Ischia, and the one half glided into the Bay of Gaeta while the other passed OUT sun-island, between Procida and St Martino, and proceeded through the delightful sea- and land-panorama into the Bay of Naples.

August 5-6.

Skirokko! Sweat bath! Steam bath! Sun glow! Drought! Only we become water!

It is now almost fOUT months that no drop of rain has fallen on this fiery island; even the dew becomes less each day. Even the vineyards are beginning to lose their color and shape; the grapes cannot swell, and, not swelling, do not ripen. Near Lacce (p. 388] some fig trees have withered. No blade of grass is to be seen, and the thirsty puzzolan and tuff soil is nothing but ashes and dust The cisterns (and there is no other drinking water here) are beginning to run dry. No bird sings, no spring ripples, no flower exhales fragrance, and even the hoarse song of the cicada falls silent, for her exclusive nutriment, the dew of heaven, begins to fail. The sky itself is full of red mists, out of which the morning sun rises without radiance, and, in the evening, sinks back through the fiery haze into the sea, heavy and glowing red like a mass of molten ore. Only the hot springs of the island bubble torth, steaming, from the fire within the earth.

Splendor rather than charm, greatness in the outlines, without the refreshment of proximity! Much for the observing, inquiring mind, little fOT the longing heart do you offer, sun cooked island! .. 0 Helvetia! You blessed land of my soul, where, in the bosom of the noblest greatness, dwell beauty, charm and repose - I think of your cool (p. 389] shadow'S, your leaping waterfalls, and your snowy peaks, where ever-cooling breezes are prepared.

Afternoon ride to the loothills ofEpomeo.

Fine is the free view over the island. From here I see directly over and beyond Lacce.and into the great dilapidated crater which lies sunken in the western wreath of hills, and is very fruitful and freshly green. One sees traces of a lava which formerly poured out here and flowed through the wild St Lorenzo valley and into the sea, where it formed that wild shore between Furia and Lacce.

In the evening the new moon appeared in brighter airs. Splendid stood our northern Bear in the north-northwest, Cassiopeia in the northeast, and Andromeda in the south. All ofthem seemed to me to stand higher in the zenith, and nearer to the pole, than with us in the same ROMAN DIARY, II 114 month and at the same hour. Lightning zigzags far over Gaeta, illuminating the depths of the Bay.

[p.390) AIJb'USt 7. Rain, though only in drops, but still some refreshment for the earth. plants, people, trees and animals. Abbot Brislack, this modest scholar and famous mineralogist, was with me today. He visits Ischia every year in order to make use ofthe still unknown treasures of the old volcano. Pyrogeology and geogony (F euergeologie und Geogonie) is becoming ever more predominant here.

Spallanzani, Hamilton, Soulavie, Brislack, Thompson, are all volcanists, and the old and honorable Neptune sees his creative torn from his hands by these impious persons and laid on the anvil of his lame brother ['1]!

August 8. It had rained again in the night, and the early hours were heavenly beautiful. Brought closer to me by the ether-pure air ('1), I espied the white shore of the island ofVentotiene, played upon in friendly fashion by the young light and the blue waves. How rare are these clear morning airs in Italy!

(p. 391] I read today with inexpressible delight the splendid canto in Tasso's Gierusalemma {5ic] liberata with the description of the drought and the rain.

The whole day was beautiful, and closed with the gentlest evening followed by the most beautiful night What splendor of the starry heaven, spread out over the sea! The immeasurable sank down in friendly wise, and the infinite ascended, more intangible in its broken brilliance, out of the mirroring lap of the sea!

The gigantic silhouette ofEpomeo rises enlarged amid the night shadows, and its shoulders seem to shelter the aether-bow of the Milky Way; Mars rises fiery red above the tuff- scallops. Oh, holy eternal lights ofheaven! May my eye never behold you without shining tears of joy, nor my spirit without heaven-aspiring presentiment! Before the radiance of your primal light, every complaint falls silent, and the broad road of infinity opens before me. The harmonies which these stars radiate strengthen my heart'

(p. 392] August 10. My SOil does what my limited strength unfortunately does not permit, and which the cure, to which every calef action is damaging, wholly prohibits. He rides away, up and down, before sunrise, to the highest peaks and into the deepest clefts ofEpomeo, armed with chisel and ROMAN DIARY, II 115 hammer, and would like to carry off the whole mountain. The good Brislack, who takes an interest in the eager little mineralogist, has shown him the richest prospecting grounds. Since then he always returns heavily laden with spoils.

Often there suddenly arise, at places where one did not expect it, hot steams and glowing vapors issuing from cracks in the earth or clefts in the stones, and everyihing testifies to the size of the internal furnace that apparently underlies the entire island

Pohrt, Domeyer and Karl in the very first days were on the top ofEpomeo, from where, in addition to the broader view, they espied also the northern side of the island [p. 393], which to me will probably always remain terra incognita. It is wild, much less inhabited than ours, and beautiful in the contrast of the dark green of the little lonely woods and the rocky coast, which is only animated here and there by isolated fishing huts. With us on the southern side, no underbrnsh can become a wood, for the damned brick works, which I never see smoking without iIritation, eat up all the wood. Every ten years, the lovely little chestnut groves are cut off at the root, and what they call a wood here is like the alder-shrubs with us, in the swamps or in the hedges. I was always bitterly disappointed when, attracted by the fresh green, I looked for shade under these miserable trees, which are condemned to eternal mutilation.

August I L This afternoon, in bright weather and with a cheerfully rising sea, we made a voyage to Borgo d'Ischia, the capital of the beautiful Inarime. Our [p.394] house lies directly beneath the highest sugarloaf summit ofEpomeo, and in the middle of the northern side of the island; but the hamlet of Furia lies on its western tip, and Borgo on the eastern, aod on both sides it is a voyage of five miles.

High tuff-puzzolan and lava-breccia cliff.~ soon hide from us the interior of the island; then little green valleys sink dowu between the torn and violently upraised volcanic heights. The pleasantly green, wholly volcanically formed hill above the little vi]]age of Castiglione has most visibly preserved its conical form, and seems to have been the nestling among Epomeo's children.

It was from the foot of this young mountain that the devastating lava stream of 1300 broke out From it, mineral springs still flow, and vapors rise. Now, ye]]ow ashen walls of hardened puzzolana project abruptly from the sea. The whole mass of the island, here on the east side, has been thrown up and down in conical hills.

(p. 395] High stands the elder-father Epomeo, whose boldly drawn backbone dominates the entire island in a noble line from east to west. His eastern side, which descends in steep and thinly greening hill-walls and slopes, is called Monte Campagniano; but a deep perpendicular fissure has been torn between this and the main mountain, and it is this pre-mountain which has been most picturesquely thrown up, as by an artist's hand. ROMAN DIARY, II 116 We visited the Lago del Ri':, into which we entered from the sea through a very narrow channel hewn out of the lava cliffs.

From the dark banks nearby we picked myrtles and blooming Genista. This little lake apparently lies in the circle of broken-in volcanic walls, and a deep peace reigns here above the extinguished hell! Magical was the view through the narrow canal and across the water to the shores of Cumae; and picturesquely rose a pathway out of the deep valley and up to Casamicciola. The lake abounds [p.396) in fish, and His Sicilian Majesty comes here every year for fishing. The air in this sea valley was oppressive, as at the lake of Ah'tlano, and I huIried back to the sea in order to be able to breathe freely, since I do not possess the very enviable quality of being a living aerometer and combining a thermo- baro-and hygrometer in myself

We now bent our course around the island's eastern crags and points. What can be compared with these splendid marine perspectives, where, as through an optical spell, here, between the little island ofVivara and the cliff-corner ofIschia, the far-off reddish misted giant of Castell a Mare, as though newly born, proudly raises itself above azure sea,.distances, and Vesuvius then enters the picture, high up in a veil of mist, its throat open to heaven! The walls of Somma, its dark woods, and the green plateau of the hermit were raised up from the desert of the mountain into the clear air.

We now rowed to the outlet of that dreadful lava stream which, from a crater-like [p. 397) depression called Chiaiano, flowed a full mile and a half into the sea. Now slowly rose, between the cliff-fort of the Campagniola mountain and the crag of the fortress of Ischia, the island of Capri, emerging slowly from the lap of the sea- first the higher island valley, called Anna-Capri 1 sic), then the high rock comb, the chalk cliffs splendidly shimmering with white and peach-blossom tints that gently harmonized with the green of the vines and trees.

The eastern end of our island makes a most delightful painting; the fruitful mountain terrain is drawn up and down in gentle wavy lines, and the pretty white country houses ofBorgo lie half hidden in the fresh green, out of which protrnde single pines and cypresses.

The wine of our island is very noble, strong and fiery; the best costs here on the spot 1 'Iz Carolin (about 13 Danish shillings); the bad,S Grani (about 4 Danish shillings) per bottle. One of the leading Neapolitan trading firms bought up the greater part oflast year's vintage, and, as (p. 398] I was assured here on the island, earmarked it for Hamburg.

The island as a whole has a circumference of 18 miles, and 24,000 inhabitants.

Now the boundary pillar of the Neapolitan and Salernitan bays, the mighty foothill of Minerva, appeared on the magic chart, and we landed on the flat beach in front ofBorgo. This nice little town seems to draw its white houses, among which are very respectable buildings, directly out of the cliff-shadowed sea. We walked over the long bridge, built on a lava dam, that connects the town with the Castello, based high up on the picturesque lava and tuff cliffs. Then ROMAN DIARY, II 117 I rode,through very convenient winding ways hewn out of the cliffs, up to the platform of the fortress. Here there opened a view as comprehensive as it was great, as beautiful as noble.

The broad sea in the south, where Capri holds the wandering gaze; then the eastern coast [p. 399] of the bay, with Massa, Vico, Sorrento, Castell Ii Mare; Sorrento, where Tasso was born; Vico, where Filangieri died, too soon for his unhappy fatherland: then the great line which, from the grave of Pompeii to where Vesuvius raises its purple ashen head in the already reddish air, and from there again glides downward, gently and majestically, into the soft lap of the Campagna fe/ice; grouped around its foot, like a decorative frame, the palaces, houses, towns, villages and hamlets. Beneath me Vivara, Procida, farther off Cap Martino, Misenum - all these wonderfully ragged forelands and islands.

Far above the plain of Capua, the Apennines tlee away in perspective. Freely placed upon the greening heights, the cloister of St. Martino and the fortress of St. Elmo; shining far off, the white edges of the Solfatara and Monte Secco, beneath which I looked into Pozzuoli's and Baiae's quiet shadow harbors of ancient times; then the dark Gaurus (p.400] and the deserted Cumaean shore. We hastened downward; and as we got into the boat, the sun had already set on this eastern shore, and Borgo lay in the green retlection of the higher hills, behind which a fiery glow flamed upward.

Our vigorous oarsmen rapidly bore us around the tip of the island; there the fireball still floated above the western hills, and fresh sunset breezes stirred the billows. Roseate smiled the coasts of the Neapolitan bay, and Vesuvius glowed as though his dead ash-head were taking fire from the sun's last glance. The coast ofPozzuoli, Baiae and Cumae was bathed in brown tints, as though with the concealing veil of forgetfulness, while there above the animated Gulf, the bright light of the present still streamed! We glided close to the fantastically formed tuff cliffs, which, dyed brown, white and yellow, form hollows and extend their sawtooth edges; breaking waves foamed in and out, mixing snow with aquamarine.

[p. 401] The sun sank, and Luna strewed quivering silver stars in the heaving rose-bed of the evening!

In the cliff bays lay lurking fishing boats; baskets were laid down, nets wound up. On a brown tuff rock, beneath an inconspicuous vaulting, stood seven young women, designing, after we had gone past, to slip into the cooling sea bath. Lovely was the group of white figures on the brown rock, in the twilight, amid the foaming waves! The shadows ofEpomeo grew ever darker under the rising moon, and this evening scene from the midland sea is unforgettable for me. 1 was sunk in deep thoughts; for the gray times of old were drawn across my gaze beneath the veil of growing dusk.

This now empty Cumaean shoreline, which a gentle and well-conducted people inhabited - at a time when Rome, still unknown, was rising in little Latium to superior power and future world mastery -- and, disclosing all the charm [p. 402] of Greek art and intellect, soon stood on ROMAN DIARY, II 118 that level of esthetic cultiva tion which, without the higher light of heavenly wisdom, could never rise to genuine moral worth, rose up as though from the fabled dream of its SybiL It \vas followed by the deserted coasts of Bauli, Baiae and Pozzuoli, where luxurious Rome, now already sunken from its height, eternalized all its vices. Far off lay that Bay of Naples, crowded on all sides, around which throngs a monstrous population, to a life without sense or strength, without morality or cultivation! Ah, will it ever awake to what Rome and Cumae were? And yet, how far were Rome and Cumae below the attainable summit of human perfection - how far Athens, Sparta, Corinth, Thebes and Syracuse! When will the bright daylight of true humanity illuminate us? Belief in virtue, caution and immortality, when will you become the law oflife and the all-animating feeling of the soul?

[p. 403] Dark did it grow in my own soul! I saw an unattainably high goal, and mankind still in its cradle; but the view toward heaven, in the fullness of unending space, unending creation and forward movement, strengthened my sinking spirits. - Yes, He who raised that slowly fonned granite giant of the Alps from the depths of the sea, and, through these long extinct volcanoes, fertilized the dead earth from within, set for us, too, a high but, for the duration of our being, a not unattainable goal! We are still in the youth of the human race, whose peoples as they pass do not, like a tiresome world of dolls, eternally revolve in uniform guisc upon the same axis! - You, too, will again raise your brow, sunken Italia! You again will bloom, Hesperian coasts! You will awaken, poor, weak, unself-confident race!

August 16.

I continue to live in peaceful quiet, and hear the political storms raging only fiom afar! [p. 404] The people of this island are very obliging, friendly, and also flattering; it is the kindness of weakness, not that free, open gaze and hearty greeting of the Swiss. The human type is noticeably small and thin, because it is badly nourished. Begging is general; yet they are not shameless, and the expressive gesture of hunger speaks louder than their voice. In the postures of the women, in la Cava and Campania as well as here, in their way of carrying jars and baskets on their heads, I still discern traces of the grace which, in happier days, presumably informed all the movements of this cheerful people. On the whole, the poor people here are cleanly; their linen and bedclothes are, also among the poor, very white. Noticeable here too is the brief blooming of the women. They imagine all of us to be younger than we are, and this is understandable, since here women of thirty-five look like those of fifty with us. Thus one often sees a decrepit little mother with a young child whose (p. 405] mother she is, but one would take her for the grandmother.

A bashful dejection and a lack of self-confidence seem to me to characterize the inhabitants ofthis island, even more than those of the mainland. I would gladly take a trip into the Abrnzzo, where, they say, a less oppressed and nobler people live in the hills; for the feeling of melancholy does not leave me here, any more than in Tivoli, Frascati, and la Cava, at the sight of a sunken nation. That this joyless despondency of the people grows from year to year, and ROMAN DIARY, II 119 that together with the inborn joyfulness of the inhabitants of this happy region, their natural gifts, like unfed flan1es, are also gradually flickering out - of this all my acquaintances and friends, in Rome and Naples, Germans as well as natives, were without exception witnesses.

August 17. It was a delightful morning, and I looked through clear airs into the deeply disclosed bay (in den liefenthullten Meerhusen) [p.406] ofCajeta. The towns of Mola and Castiglione lay clear before me at a distance of forty miles, and high on the rounded foothill sat the fortress of Gaeta; behind glowed the dark orange groves of the Formian Hills, braced against higher hills.

Afternoon. Storm winds are rising; long streaks of cloud approach from the western horizon, and the sea churns under the wind's wings. Sharp sunbeams penetrate the blue-gray cloud cover, to land on the eastern coasts and mountaintops. Suddenly, in dazzling brilliance, the white mountain peaks appear, or the shadow of a dark grove is magically illuminated; a vineclad hill, a sunkissed white foothill rises from the blue flood.

Vesuvius' throat, Baiae's gulf, the walls of the leukogeian (lleulwgeischen) craters - Everything changes from mist into brightness, and then suddenly disappears back into the darkness, this field of primeval times.

August 19. I am beginning to grow very sad; for (p. 407] everything is growing dumb to me! No tone of friendship and love reaches me here, and on the other side of the Alps everything has sunken for me. For six weeks I have heard nothing from all my people, nothing from the friends in Switzerland and Germany; the mails are all very uncertain, and those letters which successfully pass the armies are opened in the post offices in Rome and Naples, and then often thrown away.

To distract ourselves, we made a sea voyage to Furia d'Ischia. There was no storm, but the sea was very unruly due to the preceding tempests. Our doughty seamen swung boldly past the clitl:Coasts of the island, through foaming, spray-hurling, hissing waves. Whirlpools and foam circulated about the projecting lava reefs, wild and frightfully beautiful. Cheerfully the Hesperian heaven smiled down upon the dark volcanic coasts.

We landed with much difficulty near Furia, which is built out into the sea on a long protruding tongue of puzzolana, in an unusual situation, with no harbor or secure approach, and with waves crashing on all sides.

(p. 408] We looked around in the small, well-built little town, where a market was in progress, inspected the small, beautiful chapel of St. Johannes, and then rode back in the loveliest twilight These coasts, the hills rising above them, the mountainsides that follow them ROMAN DIARY, II 120

- everything is unquiet, torn, and tells of powerful convulsions; nowhere is there beauty of form, everywhere venturesome figures in the wildly scalloped cliffs. The land is everywhere as well cultivated as the uneven and barren earth permits.

There are all sorts of fruit trees here, even cheIries; but O\ving to the unfavorable soil, they do not produce any pleasant vegetation but remain small and poor in foliage. Orange trees stand singly in the neighborhood of the houses and in the gardens; fig and pomegranate trees are most frequently seen. The former are the handsomest trees on the island; the latter remain small but bear abundantly.

August 20.

I am sick with longing! Still no word (p. 409] from afar, from mother, children, siblings and friends; and 1 do not know whether Brnn awaits me in Italy, Germany or Switzerland. All news from Lombardy is untrustworthy; none of it comes unfalsified among the people, and what could be disseminated through private letters is suppressed. I can't hold out long in this way; for without love and friendship, even Hesperia becomes a desert to me!

August 21. The thunderstorms which now come up after the midday heat give me, from my high vantage point, a view of manifestations as remarkable as they are beautiful, brought to pass by the changing ofthe clouds over the wide sea, the effervescence beneath the rapid storm, the flashing lights under the dark cloud cover. Thus I went out today onto the flat roof of my house from my rooms where 1 had had the usual siesta, so refreshing in this climate.

(p.410] It was between four and five in the afternoon; iustead of the fresh sea air which otherwise rustles delightfully about me, a leaden heaviness hung over sea and land, coasts and islands. In the west, a night of thunderstorms was brewing, black as I had never seen it, and the sea heaved darkly, as though moved in its entire mass from within outward, without storm or waves. The whole land to the north and west lay buried in thick haze, and the sea horizon was merged in the clouds. In the east, without sunshine but sharply illuminated by a magical white band around the heaven, the whole wonderful perspective lay bright and clear, and islands, waters, forelands, coasts and mountains rose from the sea in solemn stepwise progression. Behind Vesuvius and the Campanian plains, the Apennines rose into elevated heaven-climbing distances of the Neapolitan Abruzzi, where an alien sun illuminated the far-off peaks. Seven times changing, I counted land, island and sea.

[p. 411] Yesterday I made a little pilgrimage with my people to the house which the noble Stollberg family inhabited during their stay on the island of Ischia. We rode down to the sea near the brick works. The little house is idyllically situated beneath an overgrown rock, near the warm baths of the Misericordia, the hospital where 200-300 patients each year find care, and often healing, through humanitarian arrangements and the beneficent springs. Already at some ROJVlAN DIARY, II 121 distance the children from the surrounding houses, catching sight of my blond Karl, cried: e ritomato il Conte Lmesto! thinking of the golden-haired Ernst Stoll berg. The occupants of the house received us in happy and friendly wise, and asked particularly and with heartfelt interest after each member of the noble family which had become so dear to them; showed me the place where each one had lived and slept, and kindheartedly refreshed us with water and lemon juice. We then visited the nearby church, where the little Sibylla, this [p. 412] tender and quickly fading plant, ripens to a fair bloom in the lap of the earth. Among all the people I have seen in Ischia, I liked these hosts of Count Stoll berg the best

August 22. Today I looked from my roof onto the roofs of near and distant houses; young girls were dancing, while a playmate sang or struck the tambourine. This is only the second time since I have been here that I have had this pleasant sight; I begin to experience all the charm of the Italian dolce far niente! With a glass of ice-cold water and a slice of red watermelons (the simplest, thirst-quenching refreshment, which even the poorest enjoys in the markets and all the streets of Naples ), breathing these mild airs, I often surprise myself in a half-hour of doing nothing and thinking little. And were not the sting oflonging for [p. 413] those who are far away over sea and mountain and land so alive in my breast, I would begin to understand the good fortune of the Lazzaroni, which friend Domeyer always tirelessly commended to me as the best means of healing.

The fine white figs of this island cannot ripen in the drought, and I must order all fruit from Naples, together with all other provisions except bread, wine and fish. These fish of the Hesperian coasts are so manifold and so strangely formed, and have such characteristic heads, that I always have them brought to me to look at. Most varieties resemble animal flesh in taste and consistency, and are more nutritious, but also in part less digestible, than the fish of our seas. Very healthy and nice are the eggs of the sea-hedgehog (Meerigel), whose flattened globe like an orange is sliced horizontally, so that the eggs, like longitudinal lines, lie as it were stripped down (heruntergestreifi) and have an extremely fine aromatic [p. 414] taste. They are eaten before the soup, as anchovies often are with us.

August 23. Today we took a ride to the il Vosco crater at the eastern end of our island valley. The way leads steeply upward among vineyards and over lava slag between stone fences. This little crater is completely preserved, and its cup form is very prettily rounded down to the depths, where it narrows like a furmel and closes. I estimate its circumference at two miles on the upper edge. Here the greenery of myrtle, Lentiskus, and mastix surrounded us, decorated the empty depths to a considerable distance, and filled the air with invigorating fragrance; in between bloomed the lovely Spartium, and the varieties of Cilhysus, with their tender twigs, intertwined both edge and depths to form a delightful pleasure bush. A little path led down into the crater, but our guides warned us against the snakes, which slither out at sunset; (p. 4151 also, the sun ROMAN DIARY, II 122 was already low; for the western edge of the crater threw a shaIp shadow over the eastern part, making an indescribably fine effect as it merged with the depths while the full sunlight still played on the heights. As we tumed to ride home, we were surprised by the loveliest view downward on our green island valley, its hills, villages and hamlets, across the island to Furia, and beyond until in the hazy sea-distance the island ofVentotiene receives our gaze.

August 25. No letters, and no passport to Sorrento's cool shore, for whose refreshing shade I longed; where I must again collect my strength, and refresh myself with its cooling grapes and golden apples, after the exhausting glow-baths of the fiery island! Vain are all the prayers of the dear [Mrs.] Filangieri! The Queen has given permission for the passport; but the stern Prince Castell (p. 416] Cycallo is unwilling, tor the sake of the hyperborean pilgrim, to breach the great Chinese Wall with which cautious policy has encircled the Hesperian islands and coasts. - So, back to noisy, dusty Naples, which [however] I shall soon flee, in order to find rest in the shadow of the Tusculan hills until I receive word of the possibility of a return to Switzerland.

August 26. The people of this island are really more childish than I have ever seen grownups to be; but, I repeat, childish without being childlike! This is a result of the heavy pressure of the Spanish rule under which they still languish. Superstition, customs, education, everything conspires to keep them in a perpetual minority status. It is true that the people here, the occupants of these huts adorned with fiuit and ~vine, are for the most part independent proprietors; but the percentages exacted on the export of wine, the import of corn to the grainless island, are huge, (p. 417] oppressive. Ten percent is the levy on wine in the custom houses of Naples, and this from such rough ground! Concerning grain I could not get an exact figure; the one they gave me was so monstrous that I do not venture to write it down, and it seemed to me unbelievable.

These people seem to me like intimidated children, early oppressed by tyrannical discipline, and whose wits and understanding have degenerated into petty, anxious trickery.

Begging here is more general than I have found it anywhere else, even in Italy. I have encountered well-dressed people from my own neighborhood, who spoke to me, i.e., began the conversation with some flattery about my figure, or the good things they claimed to have heard about me. The end was ordinarily begging, either for money outright, or for some sweets, or for some provisions which are scarce with them but which they knew to be on hand in my kitchen.

The dialect is extremely unpleasant, and the (p. 418] voices are anything but agreeable, but on the contrary rather sharp; in addition, they distort all words: Crapi instead of Capri, Porcita instead of Procida, Cancro instead of Carlo. In addition, they often end every word in a phrase with 0: 0 che voi sieto bello mio! Is what the women have always said to me. ROMAN DIARY, II 123

The beggar women seemed to cousider this form of address as no less inmllible than the light, fine flattery of the beggar with the Cross of St Louis on the Pont Neuf in Paris.

Karl's personality, and his activity with hammer and chisel on the cliffs, were quite wonderful to them, and at first they held up the eager stone-seeker with questions: Whither? Why the stones? Until he finally, cheekily enough, answered, Per far colluzione! (For breakfast). Now the women always call after him: Ah, Signor, Monsu, Don Cancro rumpe-prete, va far collazione! (Ah, his Lordship, Monsieur, Herr" Carl Stonebreaker is gning to breakfast.)

[p. 419] These good people are very concerned about the spiritual welfare of my children, and Karl's donkey-drivers are continuously wanting to convert him. Mifa pieta, di vedervi andar nel ! II Diavolo vi cacciard Puff! Puff! Puffnel Zolfo la Giu [5ic}! (It grieves me, to see you going to Hell this way! The devil will hunt you Puill Puill Puill down into the sulfur.) This warning was always accompanied by very vehement gesticulation, and the sulfur threat was often supported at a smoking cleft in the mountainside with a concrete reality of the nearby Hell in the sulfurous coating of the yellow and vermilion tuff rocks.

The daughter-in-law of myoId housekeeper bore her first child in her twelfth year; apart from this, she is a very good-looking and strong woman. But her numerous children are all small, and her twelve-year -old daughter was not so large as mine is in her ninth year. In general, my children are wondered at as little giants.

The day after tomorrow we return to Naples. (p. 420] I have lived with sadness and indignant regret among a people which, in its present wormlike life, has not split even the crudest shell of existence!

The so very early maIriages of the women are certainly a contributory cause of the degeneration of the whole human type. How can the tendril which itself is still weak bear a ripe fruit? And now morally? No youth, no bloom of innocence' From childhood harnessed immediately to the hard yoke oflife! Oh, how I thank God that I was born in the north!

August 27. I wish to dedicate this day wholly to the contemplation of this great Nature! With this thought I stepped out early onto the flat roof of my vestibule to the east

The sun was just rising behind Vesuvius, climbing slowly into the vaporous pearl-blue, and soon set down his radiant feet in the curling waves of the Neapolitan Bay.

(p. 421] Sea and heaven unite here in smiling sweetness,

17This threefold appellation of foreigners is usual on Ischia. In Naples, only the women are called Signo.ra Donna. ROMAN DIARY, II 124

And the shimmering land rests in a trusting union!

I remained quiet all day, and in the evening, with the loveliest of sunsets, took leave of the beloved spot beneath the pomegranate trees and beside the grape arbor.

August 28.

It was on a cheerful Sunday morning that we left our house, pushed off from the flat shore, and called a friendly farewell to old Epomeo as he stretched his giant limbs from out of the clouds.

How beautiful is this sea of southern coasts, with its blue-green, teeming billows! Pure as the crystals of the Alp-nymphs are its long waves, and cheerfully do they recast the naked volcanic cliff-shores of these islands and coasts, which always frighten me a little with their hard gaze; on whose abrupt foreheads no cool grove casts its shadow, but (p. 422] the bunch of grapes on the low vine, near the dry earth, is ever cooked by the sun's rays. So the Monte Procida, opposite the island ofIschia, whose warm and heavy wine the English especially prize, and, as I was told, always buy up in advance.

As we glided beneath the vertical tuff walls of Procida, our seaman Notale [sic: Natale] cried: Rosa! cara Rosa mia! and showed us the dwelling of his love, high on the cliff. He frequently repeated the tender morning greeting with his rough voice, prayed her to open the window, and to show her face. In vain! Rosa was deaf, and only the rock-clefts threw back his voice. Finally he concluded from her silence that she was not at home, but had gone down to the great festival that is dedicated in Procida today to the protective saint ofthe little town. We decided therefore to land on Procida in order to see the people of the island assembled, and where Natale [S-lc] also hoped to catch sight of his lovely Rosa.

[p. 4231 The population on this small island is very dense. The small, unclean mountainside town was literally like an anthill. The people are much better-looking and stronger than the Ischians. The costume of the women is very distinctive; a melding of the Greek and Turkish costumes, and most picturesque. High belted skirts, with gold and silver buckles, fastened beneath the bosom. A caftan, often trimmed with fur, of rich silk material, a silk kerchief negligently laid over the hair, much jewelry around the neck and in the ears.

The nobler costume forms more beautiful figures; I saw here better-looking outlines of throat, neck, shoulders and hips, than I have seen since Rome, in the quarter ofthe handsome women of Trastevere, and nowhere else. The brisk young sea-folk on the men's side are also distinguished by agility, lively color and fine curly hair, and looked well in the colorful seamen's costume.

[p. 4241 Everything was happy and contented, and the cheerful Procitesi are well known as particularly adroit and courageous seamen. ROMAN DIARY, II 125 We needed to make use of the sea breeze, if we wanted to reach Naples at noon and avoid the risk of having to wait until next morning for its return. So we soon left Procida, and sailed happily along on blue waves between shining coasts.

As we doubled Posillipo, and the Bay of Naples received us in all its splendor, our eyes were drawn from the shimmering distance to the waters near at hand A swarm of dolphins was fluttering about our ship; shining in the sea's flood and the glow of noonday, they were happily moving up,down,and around us, and, attracted by the whistling of the sailors, accompanied our felucca for a considerable time. I particularly enjoyed two of the biggest of them, who long accompanied us at close hand like a team of horses. They recalled to me (p. 425] the charming idea of the ancients, which I had seen in antique intaglios, where Psyche travels on the sea in a shell-car drawn by dolphins. A picture of evening rest after the storm of life!

I, too, bore a troubled Psyche in my bosom, and was without news of my people; oppressed by the ever-threatening war rumors, alone in a foreign land, still undecided what I should undertake.

I willingly accepted the friendly picture of the dolphins as a good omen; and behold! before I reached my house, two letters from Lombardy were brought me, with definite and reassuring news how I could pass securely through the conquered lands and get to Switzerland!

This was one of the long and most eagerly awaited messages; and in this moment, when I had to decide whether I wanted to pass the winter on this or tile other side of the Alps, the most important

[p. 426] So now I only greet you once again, fair shore ofParthenope, in order soon to call to you a long farewell.

THE END This index was compiled

and graciously contributed

to the Sophie Library

by

Richard P. Stebbins, Ph.D.

This text is copyrighted material, and is used by written permission of the author. Fair usage laws apply.

© 2005 1

BRUN, ROMAN DIARY associated pagan deities or (BRUN95 TWO-VOLUME INDEX) Catholic saints, the word This index to Friederike "Saint" being treated as an Brun's diary of her Italian integral part of the name. experiences in the years 1795 and 1796 offers several Third, the spelling of unusual features which were all personal and geographic adopted on a trial basis in names, still somewhat variable the hope of enhancing the in Friederike Brun's time, has usefulness of the English been standardized to some translation. degree in the text and more fully in the index, where First, it covers both of standard contemporary Brun's original volumes, which orthography is used in most are here referred to instances. respectively by the abbreviations D1 and D2 (for Fourth, page references Diary volumes 1 and 2). in this index follow the page numbers of the original German Second, the index was edition, in which numbered designed to follow a simple, pages are approximately three uniform method of designating times as numerous as in the streets, sguares, churches, English translation, where the palaces and other sites of German page numbers are historical and/or touristic plainly repeated at the interest. This, it was hoped, appropriate points in the could be accomplished by English text. This form of listing in order, first, the citation permits more precise category to which the site reference to the original belongs (street, sguare, subject matter and would church, palace, museum, bridge, doubtless be retained in any villa, etc.), followed by the future reprintings of the official or distinctive name by English text. which that particular site is commonly known Fifth, some but by no (usually a personal name in means all individuals, Italian or Latin), with simple monuments, and historic places cross references to sites that have been identified where are better known to English such identification is not speakers under some other name. readily available in standard Although this system has proved reference works. difficult to apply consistently, the reader will While aware of its many find in most instances that technical flaws, the compiler both Roman temples and is confident that the index Christian churches are listed will provide real assistance under the names of the to future users. 2

D2:60,85,86 Alban (wine?), D1:167

Abélard, Dl: 305 Alban Hills, Abildgaard, D1:285 D1:9,31,4l,72,109,133, Abruzzo, Abruzzi, Dl: 51; 173,213,217,336; Alban D2:l35,193,213,271,289, Lake,D1:42,87; excursion 323,405; Abruzzo U~tra, to, D2:56-69,7l; Alban D1: 329; Abruzzian Mountain, D1:224,244- Apennino, D2:153; 5;D2:8,38,40,43,60,69,88; Neapolitan Abruzzi, ("Albaner"),231 D2:370,4l0; Roman Albano,D1:72,102,149,216,218, Abruzzi,D2:370 239,302,353,361; Academy of St. Luke, D1:332-3 D2:60,68,69,83 Achilles, D1:90,151; D2:317 86,99,112,203 Adam and Eve, D1:37n.,89,182 Albanum, D1: 9 Adonis, D1:152,187; D2:333; Albergini, art restorer, Gardens of, Dl:115 D1:323-5 Adoration of the Magi Albulae, D1:155n. (Carracci), D2:25 Albunea, D1:165,167,170,178 Aegisthus, D1:368 Alcibiades, D2:30 Aeneas, D1:93,95; D2:84; Alcina, D2:274 Aeneid, D1:115; D2:86 Aldobrandini, Prince, D1:309; Aegui, Aeguians, ancient Aldobrandini Gallery, tribe, D1:9,122,303 D1:309,312n., Aesculapius,D1:l87; D2:16,314; 390; Aldobrandinian Lake of, D1:203; Temp~e Wedding, Dl:293-4 of, Dl: 6 Alexander (the Great), Aether, D1:169 D1:90,194,325; D2:309 Agamemnon, D1:44n.,368 Alexander Severus, D1: 89 Agathon,1767 novel of C.M. Algidus,D1:42,121,126, Wieland, D2:320 302,303,317,323,362; Agesander, Dl:346 D2:40,42,47,49 Agnani, D2:ll2,356,369; Agnano a11e Croce11i, NeapoAltan inn, Lake, D2:l31,168- D2:361 9,171,177,343, 355,396; Allegri da Correggio, D1: 387 Agnano Valley, D2:136 Al1iance god (B:ndesgott), Agrippa, Marcus, D1:8,4l,53; Temple of, D2:89 D2:21,176,300; Agueduct Alps, D1:5,87,166,266,362; of, D1:41 D2:4,6,7,228,34l,350,356, Agrippina, Dl:39; D2:175 375,403,407, 425; ai Apostoli, church, D1:64,135 Transalpine Alps, D2:204 Ajax, D2:313 Amalfi, D2:206 Alxxxi, Cardinal (name Amanda, D2:181 disguised), D1:277 America, Dl:361 Alba Longa, D1:84,121,133,302; Amor, D1:152,19l,209,344; see 3

also Cupid and Eros Dl:32 Amphitrite, D2:179,274,364,374 Appian Way, see Via Appia Anacharsis, D2:382 Appius Claudius Caecus, agueduct of, D1:120,122 Ananias, D1:349-50 Andromeda, D2:389 Agua Gettosa, Angelica, Angelika, see D1:307,308,354,363 Kaufmann Agua Paolo/Paoli, Angels' Bridge, see Ponte D1:96,98,124,2l6,238,358 Sant'Angelo Agua-Santa, D1:149 Annio, river at TivoAl, Agua Virgo, D1:4l D1:40,41,164-5,170,173 Agua-Vita, Prince, D2:380 5,178,373-85; D2:29,40,71 Agueducts, views of, D1:216 Anna-Capri (Anacapri), Ara Coeli Church, D1:137-8; D2:325,397 Christmas Eve tabLeaux, Annunciation, The, by Guido D1: 143 Reni, D1:234 Arbusto, IL, D2:381 Antinous, D1:62,130 "Arcadians," D1:231 31,302,324,325,333,334, Arch of Constantine, Drusus, 369; D2:l7,47 ete., see personal names Antiope, D1:132 Archytas of Tarentum, D2:309 Antonine, the (Marcus Arcus Consularis, D1:119-20 AureAlus),Dl:130; Ariadne, D1:40,43,264; Ariadne Antonines, D1:335; on Naxos, D1:81; Antonine Column, Capitoline Ariadne, D1:188,269; D1:211 Antoninus,Dl:228; Aricia, D2:68 Antoninus Pius, D1:339; Ario del Grano, D2: 255 D2:3l Ariosto, Ludovico, Antonio, "fish-saint," D2:253 D1:178,195,328; Antwerp, D2:28 D2:154,230,236,264 Anxur, D2:94 Aristophanes, D1:282 Anzio, D2:71 Aristot1e D1:328; D2:317 Apennines,Dl:llO,166,217,266, Armida, Dl:289; D2:274 329,354,357;D2:44,70,100, Arria and Paetus, D1:44-6,333 206,221, 264,271,345,364, Artemis, D1:370; see also 369,394,410 Diana Apollo, Dl:55,74,132,146,152, Ascanius, D2:69,84 232,329,341,371; D2:31; Asiatic coins, D2:322 Apollo Belvedere, D1:56, Asmus, D1:249 220,345; Apo1lo Aspasia, D2:30 Giustiniani, D1:91; Assumption, The, D2:14,24-5 Apollo Musagetes, Astrumi/Astruni, Dl:59,116; Apollo D2:112,333,343,356,369; Saurocthonos, Dl:78 Astrumi Valley, D2: 168, Apollonius, son of Nestor, 177 4

Atella, D2:106 Athena, Athene, D1:146.246; Athene AThani, D1:300; see also Pallas

Athens, D1:112; D2:402; School Barberini Sleeping Faun, of (by Raphael), D1:328 D1:388; D2:3l3 Atrio del Cavallo, D1:287; Barberini Palace, see Palazzo D2:341,348,349 Barberini Auge, D1:339 Bartolommei, D1:82 Augustus, Emperor,D1:53,97n.,106, Basilicata, D2:235,244,27l 114,115,120,325; Albrary Battoni, Pompeo, D1:289 of, D1:334 Bau1i, D2:174,180,363,402 Augustus, English prince, Bayreuth, Dl:203; D2:61 Bear, D1:220,349; D2:332,36ln. The, constellation, Aurelian, D2:80; Wall of, D2:389 D1:15,109 Bel1ini, Joan (Giovanni), Aurora, D1:37,90 Dl:295 Avella, D2:299 Belvedere (Naples), Aventine Hill, D2:132,147,165 Dl:7,10,13,15,95,97,101, Belvedere(Rome), see Vatican 223,243,266,268-9,291,323 Bembo, Dl:328 Averno, D2:173,369; Avernian Benda, musical family, D1:86 Lake, D2:82 Berenice, D2:309 Aversa, D2:106 BerLin, D1:87 Bernardin de Saint-Pierre, Bacchanale, Dl:367 D2: 111 Bacchante, D2:314,333 Bacchus, Bernese, D2:29 D1:43,74,131 Bernini, Giovanni, CoLonnade 2,133,264,339; in St. Peter's Sguare, D2:17,18,19,33; D1:19; statues in St. Temple of, Dl:40 Peter's, 20 Bach, Johann Sebastian, D1:86 Bernstorf, Joachim von, Bagnoli hills, D2:132,180,191 D1:198; D2:285 Baia/Baiae,D2:172,173,174,175, Birth of Christ, by Guido 180,191,289,343,363,368, Reni, D1:235; by 399,400,402,406 Carracci, D2:25 Bailly, Jean-Sylvain, D1:366n. Blandusia, D1:175 and n. Baldus, D1:375 Bocca delLa Verita, D1:94 Bandettini, improvisatrice, Bocca nuove (sic), D2:353 D1:232-3 Bode, Dl:188 Barbary Coast, D2:324 Bo1ogna, D1:297,304 Barberini Gardens (AThano), Bolsena, Mass of, D1:198,327 D2:67 Bonaventura Monastery, D1:245 Barberini Muse, D1:388; Bonnet, Char1es, Swiss 5

naturalist, D2:406-7,408-9,425; D1: 63, 240; travel pLans, D2:323- D2:l08,109 4,357, 425-6; Bonstetten, Karl Viktor von, takes leave of "beloved Swiss writer, D1:186; brother," D2:83; poems, D2:372n. D2:87,287 Bordeaux (wine), D2:286 Brun, Ida, D1:226 Borghese Gallery, D2:3l; Brun, Kar1,D1:213,2l6,290,292, Borghese, Prince, D2:49 372;D2:105,118,124,143, Borghese Palace, see 167,177,209- ; 10,242,247,267,346,347, Borghese Villa,see Villa 348,392,411,418-19; 12l Borghese birthday, April 20,1796, Borgia, Alexander (Pope D2:53 Alexander VI), D1:18 and Brunswick, D2:146 n.; Borgia, Cardinal, Brutus, Marcus Junius, D1:140; D2:91-2; Borgia, D1:25,54,83,163,193,386; Cesare, D1:249 D2:31,151,301-2; Brutus Borgo de' Daci, D2:l17 family, D1:12 Borgo d'Ischia, Busch, sculptor, D1:211-12 D2:365,393,394,397,398, 400 Caelian Hill, Caelius, Bosco Doria, D2:67 D1:70,244,296,313 Braschi Princes, D1:322; Duke, Caesar, JuLius, D1:54,325,340; D2:15 D2:151,301 Bregenz, Forest of, D2:5 Caesar Augustus, see Augustus Brislack, Abbot, D2:390,392 Cajeta, ancient name of Gaeta, Bristol, Duke of, Dl:203,282 D2:101,104,406; Cajetan Britain, D1:286; British, the, foothilLs, D2:370 Dl:25l,361 Ca1abria, D2:158,235 Ca1igu1a, Brun, Augusta (Gustchen), D1:117; Bridge of, D2:288 D2:174,180,363 Brun, Constantin, husband of CalLot, Jacgues, D2:278 Friederike, D2:409 Camaldolensian Cloister Brun, Charlotte (Lotte), (NapLes), D1:288; D1:322,344; D2:131,159,189,190, D2:l0,109,124,143,195, 343,368; (Tusculum), 209-10,278,283,347,372 D2:54-5; Camaldo1ensian Brun, Friederike, birthday, HiLL (Naples), D2:111 June 3, 1796, D2:225; Camaldo1i, D2:323,356 health problems, D1:119, CamerelLe, D2:196 195- Camillus, Dl:1l,40,118 6,202,237,306,363;D2:75, Campagna, D1:28,29,31,52,97, 116,141,173,231- 122,149,154,163,170,171, 3,272,275,283,379; famiLy 189-90,202,239,268,317, sentiment, D1:l40; 346,373,381;D2:8,14,15, feeling of isolation, 29,37,43,45,47,49,51,55, 6

59,67,71,84,86,89,91,146 busts of Marcus Brutus, Campagna Felice, Marcus Aurelius, D1:25; D2:106,345,370,381,399 Dying Alexander, Campagniola, D2:397 Capitoline Ariadne, Campania, D1:265; Dl:25-6,61-2; sarcophagi, D2:106,117,164,191,194, D1: 36-8,224,321; First 213,265,289,323,346,352, Room, D1:46-7; Great 356,404; Campanian HaLl, D1:47-8; Dying ceramics, D2:155,297- Combatant, D1:48; 8,321-2; Campanian Priestess of Isis plain, D2:4l0 (Phaedra's Nurse), D1:62; Campanile, D2:243 Psyche and Cupid, Dl:62,228; Urania, D1:62; Campo Boario, Dl:95 Diana of Ephesus, D1:623; Campo d'Annibale, Jupiter Ammon, D1:63; D1:72,109,302,303; Bust of Scipio, D1:63; D2:4,88,91 Great Room: Priestess of Campo Felice, D2:153 Isis, D1:63; Vestal Campo Vaccino, D1:6 Maxima, D1: 63-4; Room of 7,13,54,65,113,135,138, the PhiLosophers, D1:64; 218,245,266,330,332 another visit, D2:3034,97 Campus Martius, Cap Alcoso/Alcosa, Dl:lOl,123,239,279 D2:238,249,284 Canova, Antonio, D1:208 Cap Martino, 10,211,401; D2:22 D2:180,364,370,399 Capaccio, D2:255 Cap Minerva, Cap Circello, D2:94,370 D2:135,179,325,344 Cap Capenian Gate, see Porta Misenum, see Misenum Capo di Capena Bove, see Ceci1ia Capitol, D1:117 MeteLLa, Tomb of Capitoline Adonis/Antinous, Capo di MOnte(Naples), D2:293; D1:324; Capitoline MUseum, D2:155,318-22 Ariadne, D1: 211; (paintings, D2: 318-21; Capitoline Venus, D1:220 ceramics, D2: 321-2; Capitoline Gallery of view, D2:323) Paintings, Dl:80,81-3 Capo d'Orso, Capitoline Hill, D2:228,238,251,262,269 D1:7,12,13,118,137 Cappaccio, D2:271 8,143,290-95,331 Capri, D2:107,108,122,135,155, Capitoline Museum, D1:21- 180,299,323,325,332,343, 26,46-9,61-66,78,389; 345,364,370,397,398; see Antinous, D1:22; Psyche also Anna-Capri and Amor, D1:22-3; Dying (Anacapri) Gladiator, Dl:23-4; Captive Princes, D1:80-81 Wounded Amazon, D1:24; Capua, D2:105,345,346,399; Capito1ine Juno, D1:25; 7

Capuan plain, D2:135 Capuchin Castellamare, monastery (Frascati), D2:122,142,189,325,344, D2:34,41 370,373,396,398,399 Caracalla, D1:39; CasteLLo Mater Domino (sic) or D2:31,32,303; Baths of, Mater Dei, D2:265,271 D1:99,110,213,223,244, Castel Sant'AngeLo, Dl:394 292; D2:176; Circus of, Castell CycaLdo (sic), Prince, D1:100-101,103-6 D2:415-16 Caravaggio, Michelangelo da, CastigLione, D1:387 D2:101,366,394,406 Carlsbad, D2:378,379 Carluzzi, Castor, D1:333 Castor and Gran Vicario Don, PoLlux, D1:104; D2:244,247,253,257-8,267 TempLe of, D1:93 Catacombs, D1:100 Carnival, Roman, see Rome: Carnival Catherine II, D2:31 Carraccio, Annibale, Cato famiLy, D1:12; Cato, Dl:88,253,263,264,296- D2:151; Cato the Censor, 7,304,306,311; D2:23, 24- D2:72 5,78,318-19; Augustine, Catul1us, Dl:382 D2:319; Cava, D2:198,199,200,203,204, Ludovico, D1:88 211,222,255,265,266,271, Carstens, Professor, D1:281-6 285,288; Abbey, D2:197; Carthusian church, Dl:349 Cava Nuova, D2:197; Cava Casamiccia, see Pa1azzo vaLLey, D2:204; Cava Casamiccia Vecchia and Corpus Cava, Casamicciola, D2:395 D2: 254,258; see also La Cascata (Tivoli), Cava Dl:375,382,384; Cavaceppi, restorer, D1:345 Cascatellen, Dl:170,173- Cece1ia Mete11a, Tomb of, see 4,375-9; CascatelAlnen, MetelLa,Ceci1ia D1:379,383-4 Centaurs, D1:264 Caserta, D2:345,346 Cento Va11i, D2:242,244 Casino Corsini, D1:216,243; Ceramikus, Athenian, Dl:157 D2:13 Cerbin and IsabeLLa, Ariosto Casino Ludovisi, D2:297 characters, D2:230 Ceres, Cassandra, D2:313 Dl:151; D2:262 Cervantes, Cassiopeia, D2:389 Migue1 de, D2: 105 Cestius, Cassius, D1:163 Caius, Dl: 97n.; Castel del'Elo (Naples), Pyramid of, D1:14,15- D2:128 16,70,72,97 Castel deL' Uovo (Naples), 8,109,244,266,336; D2:l95 D2:l07,108,128 Chabrias, D1:79 9,147,165,361,362 ChaLcis, D2:373 Castel Gandolfo, Charioteer, sculpture, D2:33 D1:72,302,329; D2:42,59 Charivari, D1:274 61,69,86 8

Chiaio (Naples), Colle dei Venti, D1:357; D2:29 D2:107,143,164,325,361 Co1le di Pompeio, D2:180 Chiaiano, D2:397 Chigi, Colonna Garden, D2:79-80 Marchese, D1:l88; Chigi Colosseum, see Coliseum Palace, see Palazzo Chigi Co1ossi of MOnte Cavallo, see Chiron (Cheiron), D2:317 Dioscuri Chloris, D2:33-4 Commodus, D1:68,228; D2:21 Christ, Paintings of, D1:294; 2,308 Como, D2:204 and the Pharisees (da Concordia, Temp1e of, Vinci), D1:309-10 D1:11,118 Christmas observances (1795), Confetti di Tivo1i, D1:154 D1:140-43 Chryseis, D1:38 Conservatori, PaLace of, see Cicero, D1:118,120,325; Palazzo dei Conservatori D2:37,52; so-called Villa Constantia, D2:33 of, D2:99,101 Cimarosa, Domenico, Constantine, D1:29,148-9,363; D1:222,337; D2:303 D2:33; Arch of, Cincinnatus, meadows of, D1:76 D1:11,245,266 Circean Rock, D2:95 Constantius, D1:29 Circuses, D1:101-2 Copenhagen, Dl:226,293; Circus Flaminius, Dl:10l Circus D2:3,332 Maximus, Cora, ruins of, D2:94 Corbulo, D1:l0l,108,12l,291,292, D1:54; D2:31 335 Corday, Char1otte, D1:366n. Citra, Principate of, D2:205 Corinth, D2:402 Claude Lorrain, D1:187; Corpus Christi festival D2:23,24,26,27,77 Claudian (Naples), D2:l60-62; in Agueduct, Dl:149,244; La Cava, D2:216-26 D2:84 Correggio, Antonio, Claudius, D1:39,155 D1:75,297,347,398; Cleopatra, D1:61,342-4; D2:303 D2:21,78 Corsini fami1y, Cloaca Maxima, D1:92-3; D2:65 D1:8; locality, D1:153; Villa, Clytemnestra, Dl:368 see Villa Corsini Cocagne (Cockaigne), Land of, Corso (Rome), D1:206 Dl:256,257,260,269; Coliseum (Colosseum), Dl:7,9- D2:8l,146,325 10,11,55,66- Crassus, husband of C. 71,110,113,119,135,150, Mete1la, D1:102 218,223,242,245,266,292, Cumae, 323;D2:185,255; view D2:369,373,385,395,400, from, D1:69-70 401,402; Cumaean Sibyls, Collana/Collona/Colonna, D2 : 173 D1:133; D2:49,52 Cupid, Dl:129,152; Collatia/Kollatia, Sabine D2:144,274; town, D1:42 see also Amor and Eros; , D1:208 9

10, 211 Discus Thrower, D2:33 Dogana Curtius, D1:79-80; Lake of, (the new), Dl:125 Dolabe11a, 01:11 D1:120 Domenichino, Cybele, D1:176,301 D1:89,250,305,347,350; D2:297 D****, D2:17 Domenico, Pater, D2:347 Danae, D2:320 Domeyer/Domeier, physician, Danaides, daughters of Danaus, D1:119,124,125,239,306, Dl:116,276; D2:30 316,358,361; Danes, D2:4,91,324; Danish D2:16,198,287,308,324, artists, D1:285; Danish 361,362,392,413 consul, see Heigelin; Dominischini, D1:73 Danish currency, Dl:286; Domitian, D1:39,54,94,129; D2:397; Danish school, D2:19-20,32; Courtroom D2:286 of, D1:334; Villa of, Dante, D1:282,328 D2:62; Vivarium of, 245 Daphne, Dl:91,167 Darmstadt, D1:342 Don Giovene (Cava), David, D1:184; and Goliath, D2:198,200,201,285 D1: 183 Doria, ViLLa, see Villa Doria Dear, EngAlsh sculptor, D1:220 Dornbirn, D2: 5 Delphi, D1:368; De1phic Dresden, D1:87 Oracle, D1:184 Drusus, Arch of, Demosthenes, D1:325 D1:85,107,223,244 Denis, Flemish painter, Dryads, D2:45 D1:390-91 DUrer, Albrecht, D2: 27 Denmark, D1:286 and n. Dfisse1dorf, D2:28 Dessau (Anhalt-Dessau), Dutch horticu1ture, D2:l23 Princess Luise of, D2:134; see also Luise Eboli, D2:205,249,270,271,284 d'Este, Cardinal Hippolito, D1: Echo, D1:366 178 Egypt, Egyptians, Deutsche Merkur, D1:312n. D1:121,156,158,184; Diana, D1:41,55,152,341; D2:18; Egyptian D2:77,79; of Ephesus, 62 antiguities, D2:92-3 3; see also Artemis Egeria, Spring and Grotto of, Dido, D1:34l; D2:317 D1:85,106,223-4; D2:63; Diocletian, Baths of, Grove of, D1:213 D1:65,135,318 Eggers, Johanne, Dl:205 Diogenes, Dl:282 Electra, D2:295; statue Diomedes, D1:34l (Ludovisi), D1:52-3,134 Dion, D2:309 ELmo Ri ver and Va11ey, Dionysos, D2:16 D1:105,224; D2:63 Dioscuri (Castor and Pollux), E1ysium, Dl:352,353; D1:65,93,151 D2:159,378; Elsian gleam, 10

D2:281 Pa1azzo Farnese Emkendorf, Dl:170 Farnesina, D1:144-6; D2:77 Emperors' Palaces (Palatine), Fates, The, D1:37 01:241 Fattore, D1:89 Endymion, D1:38,191 Fauns, D2:13,313 Engelsburg, see Castel Faustina, D1:339; D2:47-8; Sant'Angelo Baths of, D1:334; TempLe England, D1:2l1; D2:310,361n. of,D1: 112, 336 English landscaping, Favorite, royal garden in D1:226; D2:422; English Resina, D2:123 deeds, D1:312n.; English Feast of the Apostles, Dl:86 archeology, Dl:370; FeLdkirch, D2: 5 English ingenuity, Ferentine Grove, D2:60 Fernow, D2:310; see also British Karl Ludwig, Danish entries artist and critic, Enna, D1:352,353 Dl:27,28,109,148, Epicurus, D1:40 203,213,284,306; D2:84,85 Epomeo,D2:122,130,176,180,342, Fiammingo, D1:136 351,365,366,367,371,374, 375,381,384,385,389,391, Ficus rumina1is, D1:94 392,394,395,401,421 Fidenae, D1:357 Eritrea, Sybil of, D1:185 Filangieri, Gaetano, Eros, Dl:145; see also Amor, NeapoAltan jurist, 1752- Cupid 88, D2:129,201,209, Esguiline Hill, 244,327,357,399; for D1:10,111,150,177,245; Filangieri, Caroline, his D2:175 widow, see Trendel, Etrurian vases, D2:155 Caroline Etruscan style, D2:52 Fingal, D1:282 Eumenides, D1:291; D2:315 Fiumicino, D2:67 Euripides, D2:301 Flood, The, D1:232 Eve, D1:182;see also Adam and Flora, D1:352; D2:87 Eve Florence, D1:144,247; D2:80,328; Florentine Fabius, Guintus, D2:299 region, D1:362; Fajalo AThano, D2:42 F10rentine mineraLogists, Fajolo, D2:60 D1:363 Falernian (wine), D2:l05,174 Fondi, D2:99,100,343,345,370 Faon, D1:41 Fontana, physician, D1:359 Farnese Antinous, D1:334; Fontana Trevi, Dl:41 Flora, D1:324,325; Formian HiLLs, D2:95,101,406 Hercules, D1:334; Fortuna, Dl:355; Fortuna Farnese Gardens, Muliebris, D1:106; Fortuna Dl:10,111,118; D2:l6; Virilis, Temple of, view from, D1:118-19; D1:266-7 Farnese Palaces, see Forum Romanum, D1: 6 11

7,10,95,119 Ga1.atea, Dl:263 Fountains, see Fontana entries Gal1ic school, D1:366 Fra Bartolomeo, Dl:247 Gangane1li, NeapoAltan Francesco da Imola, D1:387 reformer, Dl:64,135,33l-2 Francesco, of TivoAl, D1:163 Ganymede, D1:228,282,283 4,178 GarigLiano River, D2:104 Franciscan cloisters (Tivoli), Garofalo, D1:83,249,294; D1:376,382 D2:24,28 Franke, D1:359 Gaudenzio di Ferrara, Dl:252 Frankfurt, D2:l46 Gau1s, D1:40,41; D2:149; new Franks, D2:18,137; new Franks, Gauls, D2:290 D2:149,299; Frankish Gaurus, pirates, D2:108 D2:174,363,368,373,399; Franza, D1:89 see also MOnte Gauro Frascati, Geneva, Lake of, D2:l08,352 Dl:14,3l,72,100,213,216, Gennaro (MOunt), D1:313,329; 303; D2:99,405; abortive D2:60 visit, D1:316-17; trip and Genning, General and Anna, sojourn, D2:37-72; D1:226-7 populace, D2:51-2 Frascatian Hills, D1:42 Genoa, D2:347 Frederick II, King of Prussia, Germanicus, D1:53-4,227 German Dl:2l0-11 Sappho, the, D1: 233 German French, the, D1:251; outLook, D1:222,262 Germany, D2:15,137; in Rome, Germans, D1:114,126; military D1:172,359,395; activity and effects, D2:40,204,209,289,405, D2:148-9,299; threat to 407,409 Naples, D2:161; French Gerusa1emme Liberata, poem of theater, D1:222; French Tasso, D2:391 dancers, D1:229; French Gessner/Gesner, D1:89; D2:241 horticulture, D2:l23; see Gesu, Church of, D1:137 also Franks and Gauls Geta, D1:39 Frescati, see Frascati Giants, Temple of, D2:l2 Funerals, D1:35,136 Ging1iane110, D1:250 Fuor di Grotta valley, Giotti (Giotto), D2: 80 D2:132,165,167,171 GiuLia, ViLLa, see Villa Furia d'Ischia, Giulia D2:386,389,394,407-8,415 Giuntotardi, Abbe, preceptor Furies, the, D1:368-9 of Karl Brun,Dl:127,224,231,329, Gabii, ancient town in Latium, 331,336-7; D2:4,52 D1:53; D2:52 Giustiniani Casino, D1:370; Gaeta, D2:100,101,342,389,406; Giustiniani Palace, see Bay of, D2:364,370,387 Palazzo Giustiniani; Gajola/Gaiolo, D2:l7l,363,365 Giustiniani Villa, see 12

Villa Giustiniani NeapoAltan court painter, Gluck, C.W., D1:86,222 D2:158-9 Gods, Council of, D1:146 Hades, D2:67 Goethe, LW. von, Hadrian, D1:257n.,26l; Dl:131,157,158,335,339, D2:17,151,315 387; Tomb (Mausoleum) of, Gordianus, Roman Emperor, D1:102,153; D2:11,222; D1:360 Gotthard, D1:52 Villa of (Villa Graces, the, Dl:152,338-9; Hadriani), D1: 156 D2:16 62,381; D2:46; Roman Gran Sasso d'Italia, D1:51-2 Theater, D1:156-7; Cento Gran Vicario, see Carluzzi Camere1le, D1:158-9 Greece, D1:156; D2:300,303 Haller, D2:375 Greeks, the, Hamburg, D2:146,398 D2:136,304,314; profiles, Hamilton, Sir William, British D2:215; culture, D1:91; Ambassador to Naples, D2:402; vases, D2:l55; D1:287; coins, D2:322 D2:144,155,172,332,390; residence, D2:157; Lady Green (Holy) Thursday, D1:393 Hami1ton, D2:157,315,333 8 Gregory VII, D1:306 Hannibal, D2:299; camp of, see Grotta dei Spiriti, D2:175 Campo d'Ann;bale Grotta dei Tritoni, D2:149-50 Hebe, D1:146 Grotta del Mondo (Tivoli), Hecate, D2:32 D1:380 Hector, D2:l51 Grotta di Ponega (Campania), Heigelin,Swabian friend of D2:246,254,256,273 Brun, Danish Grotta Ferrata, Consul,D2:116,129,194, D2:42,43,44,52,57,72,82 272,276 Guercino, D1:81,88,250,341,348 Heinze, D1:32 Guglie1mo, D1:395,397 Helen/Helena (of Troy), D1:272 Guido Reni, D2:151,152,316 D1:74,81,83,88,396,403; Heliodorus, D1:198 D2:28,77; "Aurora" of, Heliogabalus/Elagabalus, D1:68 Dl:138-9; works in HeliopoLis, Obelisk of, Dl:27 Guirinal Palace, D1:2346; He1ios, Dl:37,116 in Borghese Palace, Hell, D2:419 D1:248-9; in Gregorio Hella, D2:262 Magno, D1:297-8; in HelLas, Dl:249 Francesco a Ripa,D1:304; Helo1se, D1:305 Archangel,Dl:347,349 Helvetia, D2:350,388; see also Hackert, George, German SwitzerLand engraver in Naples, Herculaneum, D2:3l6,338 D1:170; D2:141,246; Hercu1es, and brother Philip, D1:146,186,191,210,339, 13

346; D2:309; Hercules Horae/Horen, minor goddesses, Farnese, D1:265-6,334; D1:80,138-9,221; Hercules of Canova, D2:22; D2:51,123,215,281 Hercules and Omphale, Horatians, Tomb of (ALbano), D2:301; Pil1ars of D2:68 Hercules, D2:371 Horatius Coc1es, D1:l5,97,267 Herder, LG. von, [Horatius] Flaccus, Dl:168 D1:32,44,375,388; D2:266 Hudson, EngAlsh sculptor, Hermes/Hermeias, Dl:369n.; Dl:220 Huon, D2:18l D2: 67 Hygieia, D1:194; D2:30,314 Hermitage on Vesuvius, D2:337 56 Hernici, Dl:303 Iliad, Dl:90 Herschel, Sir WilAlam, Imola, Francesco da, D2:27 astronomer, D2:158 Imperial Palaces, Palatine , D1:281 Hill, D1:10-13,99,108 Hesperia, D2:198,337,409 Inarime, D2:337n.,393 Hesperides, D1:265; Indian Bacchus, D1:228; , D1:l61 D2:33,301,310 Hess D1:204 Indus, D1:203 Hetsch, Stuttgart painter, Ino, D1:131 Dl:278,289,293,296,390; Intermontium, D1: 244 D2:23,28-9,272 Ionia, Dl:249 Hippocrates, D2:36l Iphigenia, D2:315,333 Hippolytus, D1:341; see also Ipno (Hypnos), D1:319 Phaedra and Hippolytus Iris, D1:169 Hirt, Aloys, guide of Isaiah, D1:183-4 Goethe Ischia, D1:288; and other distinguished D2:122,136,176,287,289, Rome visitors, 324,337n.,343,356,357, D1:8n.,32,48, 364-5,396,397; Brun 49,50,62,88,90,98,105 and sojourn, D2: 366-422; n.,113,148,154,180,289, statistics, D2:398; 306,342;D2:30 survey, D2:373-4; the Hohen-Embs, D2:5 people, D2:376 Holbein, Hans, D2:27 7,386,404,416-20; Holy Family, by Titian, D2:297; drought, D2:381,387-8 by Raphael, Isis, D2:92,305,314 Is1and of D2:320-21 the Blessed, D2:282 Italian Holy Week (1796), D1:386-405; dancers, D1:229 D2:3 Italy,D2:158,213,244,283,403, Homer,D1:38,40,64,121,281,282, 409; ethicaL influence 342; D2:79,152,302,306 of, D1:316 Hondhorst, D1:88 Itri, D2:100 Itymar, D1:l59n. Horace, D1:157,167,170,172,179, 188,303,372,375,382; D2:50 14

Janiculum/Janiculus, hill, Karschinn, German poetess, D1:6,ll,27,28,52,96,153, D1:233 201,243,244,280,293,307, Kauffmann, Angelica (Mrs. 308,312,315,381; D2:32,46 Antonio Zucchi), Swiss- Janus, Arch of, D1:15,94 born painter in Rome, Jenkins, banker and antigue 1741-1807, also referred dealer, Dl:227-8 to as AngeAlca or Jerusalem, Temple of, D1:351 Ange1ika, D1:7-8,19,33 Jesuits, D1:332 5,73,220,232; D2:4-7,9-10 Johanna, Gueen, D2:128,154; her laproth, D1:362 castle, D2:143 lopstock, F.G., German poet, JomelAl, D1:397 D1:172,202,331; D2:320 Judith, D1:183 Kniep, C.H., Hanoverian Julia, daughter of Augustus, landscape artist, D1:114,358; Baths of, accompanied Goethe to D1: 334 Sicily, D2:163,246 Julien, D1:402; D2:82 Kunzen, composer, D1:86 Julius II, D1:199 Julius Caesar, see Caesar, Labicum, D1:133,303,317,323; Julius Junius Brutus, see D2:52 Brutus La Cava, D1:390; D2:145,164,195,197,199, Juno, D1:131,264,300,302; 228,229,263,266,272,283, D2:11,13,32; Juno 325,404,405; agriculture, Ludovisi, D1:345; Juno of D2:275-6,278-80,289; Samos, D1:90; Juno, children, D2:277-8,286-7; Temple of (Gabii), D2:52 costumes, D2:281; Jupiter, D1:92,97n.,264; household economics, D2: 14; Jupiter D2:277; silk culture, Capitolinus, TempLe D2:276; Brun sojourn, of,Dl:138; Jupiter D2:l99-258,261-88; see Latialis, D1:31; also Cava D2:42,85; Jupiter Lacce,D2:366,371,377,379,383, Olympius, Temple of, 387,389 Dl:138; Jupiter Pluvius, Lacrimae Christi (wine), D1:94; D2:15; Jupiter D2:340,353 Serapis, D1:301; Jupiter La Croce Santa, D2: 212 Stator, columns, Lago deL Be, D2:395 D1:11,113; Jupiter Lago di Tartari, D1:154 Scirocco, D1:125; Jupiter La Motte, D1:73 Tonans, columns, Languedoc, D2:204 D1:11,331 Laocoon, D1:55-6,37l Juturna, Spring (Well)of, Laricia, D2:68,84,90 D1:92-3; D2:65 La RochefoucauId, FranGois de, D1:366n. Lateran, see San Giovanni in K*, Baron, D2:324 Laterano 15

Latium, D1:180; D2:91,40l Lucius Papirius, Dl:44 Lavoisier, Antoine-Laurent de, Lucius Verus, D1:78 D1:366n. Lucretia, Dl:42 Lazaretto cLiffs, D2:171 Leda, Lucretius, D1:175n. Dl:104 LucuLLus, D2:150 Leonardo da Vinci, D1:253; Ludovisi Juno, D1:57; Ludovisi D2:27; "Christ and the Mars or Theseus, Pharisees," D1:309-10; Dl:43,46,334; Ludovisi "Last Supper," D2:7; ViL1a, see Villa Ludovisi other works, Dl:311, Luise (Louise), Princess of 312n.,389-90; D2:318-19 Anhalt-Dessau, also Lepri, Marchese, D1:190; referred to as Villa, see Villa Lepri lLouise,"lLuise," or the Lethe, Dl:l05; D2:283 lfriendH or lfriends": Leucippus, D1:15l,369 D1:14,35n.,140,167,180, Leucothea, D1:131-2,133,301-2 201, 214 (anonymous Albeccio, SE Wind, mention),216,348-9, 363-4 D1:260,266,345; (anonymous mention), 402, D2:268,272 404; D2:11,13-14,16,29, 30 Alchas, D1:209; D2:22 (anonymous mentions), 53 Alcosa, D2:270,284 (as friend), 82,134 Algorio, Pyrro, D1:159n. Luna, D1:191; D2:401 AllAlputians, Dl:399 Lupercalia, Alris, D2:387; Alris River, Dl:117,292;D2:19; D2:l04 she-wolf of, D1:83; grotto Alvia, Baths of, D1:334 Alvy of, D1:241 (Titus Alvius), Lutetia (Paris), D1:366 D1:202,362; D2:264 Lycomedes, D1:151 Locarno, D1:166; D2:102,242n. Locri, D2:156 M**,D2:78; M*n, Unc1e, D2:53; Loda, D1:282 l*n, D1:269; M***n, LOmbardy, D1:359; D1:372; M*****r, Count, D2:6,283,409,425; D1:354; D2:16 LOmbards, D2:254,257,258 MachiavelAl, Niccolo, D1:249 London, D1:22l Lorrain, Claude, Madama, ViLla, see VilLa see Claude Madama Lorrain Lotte, see Brun, Maddalena meadow, D2: 153 Charlotte Louis, hired servant Madeira (wine), D2:l94 at Madonna, the, D1:231; in art, Naples, D2:133-4,166 D1:247-9,302,304,311; Lucania, D1:225 D2:24,80,32l LucatelAl, D1:310 Madonna deL Largo, festival, Lucian, D1:146,190,282 Lucifer, D2:l26 D1:16l Madonna delle Tosse, see Lucilla, D2:22 Vesta, Temp1e of (Tivoli) Madonna di Loretto (church), D1:136-7 Maecenas, D1:382; Villa of 16

(TivoLi), Massa, D2: 344 D1:171,172,174,176,1 77, Massicus, D2:386 179,379-82 Mater Dei (Mt.), D2:271 MagdaLene, Mary, D1:304; D2:77 Mater-Domino, CasteLLo di, Magnani, ViLLa, see ViLLa D2:212 Magnani MathiLdis, Countess, D1:205 Mai (Mt.), D2:271 Mattei, ViL1a, see Vi11a Maimon, skeLeton of, D2:294-5 Mattei MaL-aria/MaLaria, D2:177 Matthisson, Friedrich von, MaLesherbes, Lamoignon de, German poet, Dl:14,180 Dl:366n. (name disguised); D2:16 MaLta, Priory of/MaLtese (name disguised), 372n. Priory, D1:95-6,243,291; MazzoLini, D1:294,311 D2:82 Meck1enburg, D1:211 Manes, Dl:101,192,340 Medici, Vi11a, see Vi11a Manius Vopiscus, D1:165 ManLius Medici; Medici Terrace, Torquatus, D1:41,48 Maratti, D1:188,226,237 CarLo, D1:144,236,389 Medusa, Dl:192,264; D2:190 MarceLLus, D1:115; D2:299; Me1eager, D1:75,369 Theater of, Dl:293 Me1pomene, D1:59, 370-71 (the Marcus AureLius, Dl:25,39 ~Tragic Muse"); D2: 296 40,70,78,228; D2: 212,382; Memnon the Ethiopian, D1: 90 Aqueduct of, D1:41; Mene1aus, pupi1 of Stephanos, BasiLica of, D1:124-5; sculptor, D1:53 Menenius PaLm of, D1:245 Agrippa, D1:40 Hangs, Raphae1, Marcus Brutus, see Brutus Dl:131 Marcus PLautius, monument of, 2,296,302 D1:155 Mare Morte (sic), D1:173,176; Mercury, D1:37,187,211,355, D2:369 Marina, D2:383 369,371; D2:312 Marino, D1:302; D2:13,42,57 Merge11ina va11ey, D2:159 8,69,72 Merino, Dl:216 Marius, D2:105 Messa1ina, D2:31 Mars, D2:391; TempLe of, Meta Sudans, Roman monument, D1:150 D1:70 MarseiLLe, D2:146,165 Mete11a, Caeci1ia, Mauso1eum Marsyas, Dl:232 of, D1:12,85,102- MartiaL, D1:154n. 3,110,213,218,244; Martino, D2:323 D2:9,84 Mary, the Virgin, Mexico, conquest of, Dl:229 D1:234,235,236,305; Michae1, ArchangeL, D1:347 D2:14,23 Michae1 Ange10 (Miche1ange10 Massa, D2:108,122,155,206,344, Buonarroti),159n.,196, 364,399; CampaneLLo di 247,262,282,297,386,400,320; and Saint Peter's, D1:18; 17 and Baths of Diocletian, Montaigne, Michel de, Dl: 64-5; Christ Bearing the 188 Monte Barbaro, Cross, Dl:137; Moses, D2:131,363 112,137; Sistine Chapel paintings, Dl:181-5; Monte Calvo, Dl:303 Pieta, Dl:248 Monte Campagnano, D2:395 Monte Milan, Dl:231; D2:6 Castello, D2:282 Milky Way, D2:391 Monte Cavallo, Dl:134 MiLLini, Villa, see VilLa Monte Cavo, Dl:13 MiLlini 14,31,42,70,110; Milton, John, D2:320 D2:42,45,71,72,90,91,112 MineraLogists, Dl:363 Monte Circello, D2:342 Minerva,Dl:37,151,152,186n., Monte Corrillo, D2:49 190,193,355; D2:12,262; Monte Cotillo, see also Athena/Athene Dl:165,168,172,373 and Pallas; also Cap Monte Gauro, D2:343,356,373 Minerva and Mount Minerva Monte Gennaro, Minerva, ancient name of Dl:175n.,313,329; D2:60 Massa, D2:108,122 Monte Mario, Dl:27,280,363 Minerva Medica, Monte Misericordio (sic), Dl:112,150,177,218,245; D2:378 D2:175 Monte Nuovo, D2:172,174,363 Minturnae, D2:104,387 Monte Porcio, D2:44,48,49; Misenum, D2:53 D2:130,136,150,174,176, Monte Savello, D2:67 180,289,343,351,355,363, Monte Secco, D2:170,373,399 368,372,399; Cap Misenum, Monte Testaccio, D1:14,97,244 D2:111,122,130,136,179, Monticelli, D1:42,72,155,157, 180 171,240,307,376,381; Miserere, performed in Sistine D2:13,40,47,60 Chapel, Dl:392,402 Montorio, D1:52,76,125,146, Misericordia, hospital on 153,216,262,267,280,358; Ischia, D2:411 D2:8 Mithras, D2:30 Montpelier, D2:227 Mnemosyne, Dl:37,46,132,366 Moritz, Dl:152,164,193 Modena, Dl:233 Morpheus, D1:191 Moia, D2:101 Mount Aetna, Dl:287 MoLa, D2:406; MoLa di Gaeta, Mount (Saint) Ajutore, D2:249; D2:100,104 ascent, D2:2L6-21; Corpus MoLina/Moline, see Valle Christi observance, MoLina MoLinare, D2:235 D2:222-6; illumination, MoLo (NapLes), D2:107,325,331 D2:223-5 2; (Portici), D2: 153 Mount ALbanus, Dl:302 Mount Mondragone, ViLla, see Villa Cotillus, see Monte Mondragone Cotillo Mount Filliesco, D2:216,252,269,270 18

Mount Finestra, D2:198,201, 21; fish market, D2:332; 203,212,213,214,216,219, foreigners, D2:302; King 223,230,231,243,248,255, (Ferdinand IV of Naples 271,284,285 and III of Sicily, Mount Ida, Dl:283 reigned 1759-1825), Mount (Saint) Liberatore, D2:155,161; Lawyers, D2:198,204,205,211,218, D2:329-30; "Lazzaroni," 226,234,238,239,248 D2:161,293,331,413; 9,252,253,254,267 military deveLopments, Mount Minerva, D2:398 D2:148-9; poLiticaL M.P. Cl., see Museo Pio atmosphere, D2:326-8; Clementino popuLace, D2:113,127,160- Mftnter,Friedrich/Fritz/Federi 162,386; porcelain go, Bishop of Zealand, factory, D2:293,294,300- brother of Friederike 304; public Brun: Dl:164,262; mood,D2:100,106,107,109; D2:244,258 Queen (Marie Caroline of Muses, Dl:38,106,221-2,228 Austria, reigned 1768- Museo Pio-CLementino (M.P. 1814), D2:357; region, Cl.), see Vatican D2:106; San CarLo Theater, Museum Gabinum,in Villa D2:303-4; sanitation, Borghese, Dl:53-5; D2:21 D2:146-7; studios (Palazzo MYron, Dl:116 Farnese art works), D2:293,2946,305; trading NajoLo cliffs, D2:150 firms, D2:397; traffic, NapLes, Dl:54,210,231,279,288, D2:126,132,146,290; urban 324,329,348-9,359; landscape, D2:328; views, D2:192,195,200,201,207, D2:121,128,133-5,299; 209,215,233,238,272,287, women, D2:328-9; party at 288,339,345,348,357,405, EngLish Ambassador's, 407,412,413,416,417,419; D2:332-4 arrival and sojourn, NapLes, Bay of, D2:107-186,293-334; D2:107,111,116,122,123, churches, D2:330-31; 126,142,147,206,228,251, clergy, D2:162; Corpus 324-6-337,343,345,352, Christi festivaL, D2:160; 362,364,370,398,400,402, fisher folk, D2:114,120 424 Naso famiLy,tomb of, Dl:356,357-8; D2:29 Naumann, LG., Dresden musician, Dl:86 N.B., friend of Friederike Brun, Dl:315-16 Nemesis, D1:187; D2:266 Nemi, Dl:302; D2:85; Lake of, Dl:42,342; D2:84,90 19 Neptune, Dl:101,104,146; Odyssey, D2:67 D2:390; Grotto of Oedipus, D2:48 (Tivoli),Dl:178, Okeanos, Greek god, 376,391; Neptunists, 01:58,191,295 D2:356 Nereids, Dl:263 OLimpia of Parma, 01:27 Nero, Dl:39,41,339; Olivia, Dl:115 D2:31,32,175; Aqueduct OLympia, D1:212 of, 01:120,122,244; Baths Olympus, Dl:144; D2:32; of,01:89; Circus of, Olympians, D2:15 01:76,102 Omphale, D2:301 Nerva, Forum of, Dl:150 Nestor Onofrio, 01:153 of Athens, sculptor, Orcus, Dl:174,353 D1:32 Orestes,D:134,191,368,295; and Electra, D1:44 and n.,45,333 Orion, Dl:167 Orizonte (van Bleumen) , D1:310; D2:23,28 NetherLands school of art, 01:206 Nettuno, D2:67 Orlando, Ariosto character, Niobe, Dl:116,345; daughters D2:236 of, 01:79,211; D2:33- Orvieto (wine), D2:13,16,18 4,219; chiLdren of, Ossian, Dl:282 Dl:370 Ostia, Dl:31,353,381; D2:15 Nisida, 02:111,131,150 Ottajano, D2:289 51,171,179,362,365 Ovid, Dl:157,357-8,382 Nocera/Nucera, 02:195,282 NoLa, 02:126,156 North, the, D2:194; anti Paestum, Dl:349; artistic spirit of, D2:37,174,191,197,205, Dl:281; no letters from, 221,228,229,235,249,270, D2:137 273,284 NotaLe/Natale, D2:422 Paetus and Arria, see Arria Numa, Dl:94,106,224 and Paetus Pagano, Don Numidians, D2:297 Mario, D2:129 Palace of NUrnberg, 02:6 Conservators, see Palazzo dei Conservatori Palatine HiLL, D1:7,10- ObeLisks,D1:102,202; ObeLisk 13,15,66,70,93,101,107- of HeLiopolis, 01:27; of 11,113- Lateran, 01:121; of 19,218,223,266,291,292, Piazza Navona, 01:102; 323; D2:62,248; Alexandrian and Theban, galleries, D2:19; visits, 02:18 Dl:241-5,334-5; views Octavia, Portico of, 01:15 from,Dl:107-10,117,243- 5,335-7; picnic on, D2:15-20 20 , D2:27; Paris, French capital, visit to, Dl:386-90 01:221,286,403; Palazzo Borghese, GaLlery of D2:146,418 Paintings, Dl:245-53; Paris, abductor of Helen, visit, Dl:309-13; view, 01:341; D2:30,33,151 01:312-13; Raphael's Parma, 01:398 "Entombment," 01:250-51 Parnassus, Dl:328-9 Palazzo Casamiccia (Ischia), Parthenope, D2:375,383 D2:133,145,148,350,362, Palazzo Chigi, 01:186-8; D2:33 426; Parthenopean Venus, Palazzo Colonna, D2:76 PaLazzo D2:300 dei Conservatori, 01:80-83 Patrici, Villa, see Villa PaLazzo Doria and Gallery, Patrici 02:23-9 P.Cl. Museum (Museo Pio Palazzo Farnese, Clementino), see Vatican Dl:10,218,262- Peace, Temple of, 5,323,324,399; D2:300; D1:7,55,119,218,292 art works, D2:294 Peleus, D1:191 Penates, D2:314 PaLazzo Giustiniani, 02:308; Peneus, 01:157 Casino, Dl:88-92 Palazzo Penni, Fattore, Dl:196; D2:80; Rondanini, D1:190-94 Palazzo Francesco, Dl:250; D2:319 RuspoLi, Pergolesi, Giovanni Battista, Dl:273,274,338-9 Dl:397 , D1:340-42 Pericles, Dl:112 Palestrina, 01:9,245 Perseus, Dl:193,264 PaLLadium, Dl:95,341 Perugino, Pietro, Dl:252; PaLLas, Dl:131; 02:305,313; D2:81 Pallas ALbani, D1:128- Peter and PauL Festival 9,346; PalLas (Naples), D2:290 Giustiniani, Dl:91; see Petrarch, Dl:328 Pfaff, also Athene/Athena, Dl:124,212,239,301 Minerva {name disguised),358 PaLLazuola, 02:60,85-6,88,91 Phaedra and Hippolytus, Dl:301 PaLmaroLa, D2:374 Phaeton, Dl:209 Pamphili (PamfiLi), ViLla, see Ph~egraean Landscape, D2:136; ViLLa PamphiLi Phlegraean light, D2:142; Pantheon, PhLegraean Locality, 01:8,101,206,302,366,366; D2: 168 view of, Dl:92 Phrygians, D2:300 PapaL Army, Dl:231; Papal Pian fuor del Ponte MaddaLena, Guard, 01:393-5; Papal D2:126 See, Dl:127 Piazza Antonina, D1:188 Paradise Lost, D2:165 Parcae, Piazza di Spagna, "Spanish D2:276 Square," Dl:35,98,276; D2:19 21 Piazza fuor del Ponte Pompeio, ViLla di, D2:175 Maddalena (NapLes), Pompeius (Pompey), Dl:340-41; D2:149 D2:69 Piazza Navona, Dl:124; Ponega, see Grotta di Ponega ObeLisk, D1:102 Poniatowski, Count, Dl:325,363 Piazza ReaLe (Naples), Pons Aemilianus, Dl:97 D2:146,325 Pons ConsuLaris, Dl:15 Piazza San Pietro, "St. Pons MUmmius, Dl:154 Peter's Square," Pons Nomentana, D1:127 D1:124,205,238,307,404; Pons Sublicius, Dl:97 Bernini colonnade, Dl:19 Pontano, Lago di, D2:52 Pie di Monte, D2:159 Ponte Maddalena, D2:332 Pieta di Croce, D2:271 Ponte MamoLe, D1:154 Pietro da Cortona, Dl:349 Ponte MoLle, Pincio, Pincian HiLL, Dl:27,29,307,308,356,363 Ponte Dl:51, Rotta, Dl:15,97,267 Ponte 102,153,189,225,238,279; Salaria, Dl:357 D2:3 Ponte Sant' Angelo, Piranesi, Giovanni Battista, D1:96,205,237-8,312 01:96 Ponte Sesto, Dl:109 PisciareLli,Le, D2:169-70,355 Ponte Sordo, D2:199,231,239,267 Pontine Pithecusae,D2:337n.,365,373, IsLands, D2:95 Pontine Marshes, 385 Dl:206,260,268; D2:93,371 Pitti PaLace, Dl:200 Pizzo- Pont Neuf (Paris), D2:418 Falconi, D2:165 Ponzian IsLands, D2:342,356 PLato, Pope, the (unnamed), Dl: Dl:36,38,40,228,328,375; 197,198-9,268; mountain D2:301,310,317 palace of, D2:60; oil PLautius, Tomb of, D1:381 economy of, Dl:162; [Pius PLeyeL, D1:337 VI], Dl:141-2,393-4; Pliny, D2:101; Villa of, D2:66 D2:14-15 PLotz, Danish painter, D2:108 Porsenna, Lars, Dl:97,268 Porta 9,116 AngeLica, D1:307,364 Plutarch, D2:105,309 Porta Capena, PLuto, D2:297 Dl:84,99,107,110,213,223, Pohrt, tutor of Karl Brun, 244,292,360 Dl:372;D2:124,177,242, Porta del Popolo, 267,270,392 Dl:27,189,308 Porta Furva, Poland, D2:109 Dl:317 Porta Joanna (San PolLio, Asinius, Giovanni?), D2:130,150,363 PoLycLitus, Dl:149,150 D1:345 Porta Latina, Dl:84 Polyphemus, Dl:263; D2:135 Porta Libitina, Dl:104 Pompeii (Pompeia), D2:37,190- , Dl:359 91,289,304-5,309,310- 14,317-18,399 22 Porta Pia, Dl:40,127,318 Porta Pretorians, substructures of, Portese, Dl:268 Dl:241,291 Porta San Giovanni, Dl:84 Priam, D2:313,316 Principatta Porta San Lorenzo, 01:154 Ultra, D2:270 Priory of Malta, , Dl:244,266 see MaLta, , Dl:84 Priory of Porta Santa, Dl:320 Procida/Procyta/Prozida/ Porta Tiburtina, Dl:154 Prozita, Porta Triumphalis, Dl:104 D2:122,130,136,176,289, Portici, 343,364,365,368,372,387, D2:48,112,113,117,121, 418,422-4; MOnte Procida, 124,125,126,147,1523,177- D2:422 8,189,293,294,338, Prometheus, Dl:37-8,186n. 343,345,352,366,370; Propaganda, Vatican bureau, MUseum, D2:304-14,316-18; D1: 326 sacrificial vessels, Proserpina, D2:305-6; other rooms, Dl:38,85,145,151,353 Provence, D2:307-14 D2:204 Portico of Octavia, see Prytaneum (Athens), Dl:157 Octavia, Portico of Psyche, Dl:144-6,152,186 Poseidon, D2:173,221,243,249, 7,355,356; 273 D2:45,67,77,186,207,276, PosiLLipo, Dl:288; D2:107- 425; and Amor (Cupid, 8,111,112,114,115,117, Eros), Dl:34,37-8,318-19; 122,127-32,134,142,143, D2:305 144,147-8,155,160,164 Publicola, D2:19 7,171,179,323,326,339, Puglie, D2:193 340,356,362,365,368,369, Pulcinello, Dl:274 424; Grotto of, D1:288; Punto (di) Thonaro, D2:380,384 D2:109-10,159,167; Punto Purgatory, D1:351 di,D2:129,130,149,153, Pylades, D1:191,368 D2:129,130,149,153,165- Pyramid, the, see Cestius, 6,180,343,362,363 Pyramid of Poussin, Nicholas, Dl:289; Pythagoras, Dl:328 Pythia, Gaspard, "the great," D2:306 D2:23,26,78 Pozzuoli/Puzzuoli, Dl:288; D2:109,111,131,171- Quakeri, Dl:274 3,174,180,181,343, Quintilius Varus, vilLa of, 355,356,363,368,399, Dl:171,172,179,376,383-4 400,402; children, D2:181- Quirinal Hi11, 01:65,81,218; 2; amphitheater, D2:185 D2:79-80; Co1ossi of, praeneste, Dl:93 (see also Dioscuri) Dl:9,110,122,323,333 Quirinal Palace, Dl:234-7; Preato/Preata, D2:197,282 view, Dl:236-7; gardens, Preisler, Dl:200 D1:237 Quirites, Va1e of, Dl:135 23 R**z from B****n, D2:31 Rocca di Papa, Dl:72,302; Radicofani, Dl:374; D2:47 D2:42,45,60 Rafaello, see Raphael Romagna, 02:283 Rainer/Reiner, Secretary of Roman Campagna, see Campagna Neapolitan Queen, Roman Carnival, see Rome D2:297,298 Romane1li, Dl:289 Raphael (Raffaello Romano, GiuLio, Dl:27,196,197 Sanzio),Dl:88,89,268,282, Romans, D2:136,304,386 294,297,311,347,387; Roman Senator (Rezzonico), D2:24,80,288,319; Dl:80,231 pupiLs, Dl: 111; Roman shore, D2:374 skull,Dl:332; Roma Vecchia, Dl:133,359-61; "Transfiguration," D2:83 D1:12,313-14,347-8; Rome, D2:272,328,332,401,402, Farnesina paintings, 405,407,423; accent, Dl:144-6; Vatican Stanze, Dl:231; artists' studios, Dl:147-9,327-9; Vatican Dl:207-12; BotanicaL Loges, Dl:194-201,280; Garden, Dl:358-9; "Madonna of the Chair," Carnival, Dl:280;D2:146; Dl:200; works in Borghese observance in 1796, PaLace, D1:247,248,250; Dl:254-9,260-62,269, 270- "Entombment," Dl:250-51; 76; censor, Dl:231; "HoLy FamiLy," 02:7; clergy, D2:162; climate, other works, Dl:251-2; D2:76; food distribution D2:76-7 and consumption, Dl:206- RegiLLus, Lake, battle of, 7,337; fountains, Dl:124; 01: 93 hills, Dl:189; human Reichard, LF., composer, types, D1:206-7; D1:86 illuminations, D2:222; Reinhardt, German artist in inteLLectuaL and Rome, Dl:203-4,288 Remus, spiritual life, D2:75- Pillar of, D1:11 6,82; itineraries, Reni, Guido, see Guido Reni Dl:15,149-50,152-3, 237- Resina, 8,266-9,307; manners and D2:117,121,123,125,189, social strata, Dl:126-7; 343,354,356,370 musicaL pursuits, Dl:336 Reventlow/ReventLau, Julie, 7; the "new" city,D1:123; D1:170; D2:44-5,319; psychoLogical Rxxxlxx (Reventlow?), influence, 17; public Count von, Dl:227 attitudes, Dl:331; second Rezzonico, Prince, Dl:80,231 siege of,41; Senator of, Rhea, D2:92 Dl:231; sunsets,Dl:13; RigicuLm, D2:270 trash disposal, Dl:277; RinaLdo, Dl:289 views,Dl:5,14,28,30,31, Ripa Grande, Dl:268,292 98-9,169,217-19,279- Ripetta, Dl:97 80,291,313,374, 24

381; D2:38-9,46; water Cava, D2:198,265,285 supply, Dl:93,123-4; Saint Anna, D2:24 weather, Dl:333; Saint Anthony, Dl:214; Saint women, Dl:256,261-2; Antonio, chapel of, women and children, D2:383 D2:160; departure (L796), Saint Augustine, D1:236 Saint D2:83,91,99; letters BarthoLomew's Night from, D2:137 (1572), Dl:27 RomuLus, Dl:101; House of, Saint Cecilia, D1:250 Dl:117; PilLar of, Dl:10; Saint Constantia, D1:321-2 Romulus and Remus, TempLe Saint ELizabeth, D2:23 of, D1:292 Saint ELmo, D2:399 Rondanini, PaLazzo, see Saint Francis, 01:305 Palazzo Rondanini Saint Gregory, Dl:296-7 Saint Rosa, SaLvator, Dl:83,188 Ignatius, Dl:325-6; Rosa, of Procida, D2:422 Church of, 325-6 Rothe, Danish philosopher, Saint James, Dl:294,314 Saint 01:240-41 Jerome, D1:347,350 Saint Rotunda, see Pantheon or Johannes (Furia Vesta, Temple of (Tivoli) d'Ischia), D2:408 Rubens, Peter Paul, D2:23,26,27-8 Rumina, goddess, Dl:94 RuspoLi, Saint John, Dl:294,311,351 PaLazzo, see Palazzo Saint John the Evangelist, Ruspoli paintings of, Dl:88-9 Rustern, artist, D2:227 Saint John Lateran (BasiLica), see San Giovanni in Laterano Saint Lorenzo, Sabina, Dl:29,218,307; D2:389 Saint Lucie (Santa D2:9,40,84 Lucia), Sabine hills, Dl:6,9,14,28,41- hamlet near La Cava, 2,51,72,76,213,323; D2:91; D2:234,264,282 Sabine country, Saint Ludovico (statue), D1:175n.,372,382 Dl:141 Saint Luke, D1:332 Sabines,Dl:122; D2:4,47,50,60; Saint MaddaLena Bridge FestivaL of, D1:101 (Naples), D2:112,117 Sabinum, Dl:154,168,180 Sacred Saint MagdaLena, D2:375 Saint Mountain (Mons Sacer), Martino (Mt.), D1:40,128,307,357; D2:122,212,271,282,368, D2:29,99 372,387,399; Saint , see Via Sacra Saint Martino fortress Agnes, statue, Dl:136-7 Saint (Naples), D2:132 Ajutore, D2:210,212; see Saint Nicolo (Nikolo/Niko), also Mount Ajutore town in Calabria, D2:210 Saint Angelo in the Cappoggio 11,374 (MonticeLLi), Dl:376 Saint Onofrio T Monastery of, Saint AngeLo, mountain near 25 D1:146-7 San Giovanni in Laterano Saint PauL, Dl:349-50; Saint (Basilica) , PauL's Gate, see Porta D1:8,150,214,215,245,306, San Paolo; Saint Paul's 350-51; D2:81; obelisk, Outside the Walls D1:121; view from, (BasiLica), see San Paolo Dl:121-2 fuori le Mura San Gregorio Magno, Dl:296 Saint Peter, D1:197-8,294,311; 8,306 Saint Peter's (Basilica), San Luigi dei Franceschi, see San Pietro in D2:21 Vaticano; Saint Peter's San Martino, mountain, Square, see Piazza San D2:147,339 Pietro Sannazaro, D2:148 Saint-Pierre, see Bernardin de San Nicolo, church near La Saint-Pierre Cava, D2:213 Saint Saba, D1:244 San Paolo fuori le Mura Saint Sabina, Dl:243 (Basi1ica), Dl:15 Saint Sylvia, Dl:298 17,72,97,336; D2:9,10-12 Saint Theodore, Church of, San Pietro in MOntorio, Dl:117 Dl:12,96,243,313; view SakuntaLa, D1:203 from, Dl:13-14 San Pietro in Vaticano SaLerno, D1:390; (Basilica),Dl:54,75,102, D2:164,193,204,205,206, 109,118,153,159n.17,237, 236,237,238,249,251,255, 280,308,312,346-7; D2:3; 261,263,270,273,282,284, Bernini statues, D1:20; 370; CastelLo, 237,270 Christmas observances SaLis, German poet, D1:23,33; (1795), D1:140-43; D2:5,372n. SaLis-Seewis, climatic influences, D2:5 Sallust, Dl:102,382; Dl:19-20; criticism, Gardens D1: 299-300; of,Dl:226,239,389 dome,13,30,72,96,201- Samnites, 01:122; Samnite 2,237,243,244,262,308, mountains, Dl:151, 348,364,381; D2:222 Samnite land, Dl:218 (illumination); HoLy Week Samnium, Dl:240,329; Samnian observances (1796), HiLLs, Dl:312 393,396,399-405; Samos, Juno of, Dl:90-91 San monuments, 01:205; Tomb of Carlo Theater (Naples), the Apostles, 18; view, D2:303-4 Dl:29,404; D2:8; visits, Sanctis, Roman lawyer, Dl:17-19,204-5; D2:80 Dl:175n. San Pietro in Vincolis, San Francesco a Ripa, D1:110,112 Dl:143,304-5 San Pietro (Piazza), see San Giovanni a Porta Latina, Piazza San Pietro D1:244 San Sebastiano, Dl:99 26 Santa Croce di GerusaLemme, Sarmiento, vintner, Dl:276; Dl:215,306; D2:81 D2:16,18,19 Sant'Agnese fuor le Mura, Sarto, Andrea del, Dl:247,253; Dl:318-20 D2:78,317 Santa Maria del Avocata, Sassoferrato, Dl:248; D2:24 D2:243,244,254 Saturn, D2:92 Sant'Andrea deLLa ValLe, Dl:86 Saul, Dl:350 Sant'AngeLo (Mount), Savoy, D2:198 D2:212,216,231,233 Scaevola, Dl:97 Sant'Antonio, oaks of, Dl:245 Scaffaca, D2:191,192 Santa Maria degLi Angeli Scamander, Dl:90,283 (Carthusian convent), Scandinavia, D2:4 Dl:64-5 Schiavi d'Ori (sic), Dl:376 Santa Maria in Trastevere, SchilLer, Friedrich, Dl:38,39 Dl: 305-6 Schleswig, Dl:281 , Dl:214 Schmidt, sculptural assistant, 15; Piazza, Dl:214-5 Santa Dl:211; Schmidt, painter, Maria sopra Minerva, Dl:137; of Darmstadt, D1:342; D2:15 Schmidt, painter, of Santa Trinita, Benedictine Bayreuth, D2:61 Abbey of La Cava, School of Athens (RaphaeL), D2:247,248,253,256-8 D2:317-18 Schreckhorn, Santa Trinita dei Monti, Dl:188 Schulz, Eduard, D1:200- 201 and n. SchuLz, LA.P., musician, D1:86-7,222; D2:158 Schwarzenberg, D2:5,7 Scipio family, Dl:12,267; tomb of, D1:224; Scipio Africanus, Dl:97,255; bust of, Dl:63; Scipio Barbatus, Dl:224-5 Scirocco, Dl:226,256,260,266,338, 345; D2:20,76,123,162,387 Scotland, D2:168 Scuola di Virgilio, see Virgil Sebetho River, D2:117,192

SemeLe, Dl:131 Santi Giovanni e Paolo, Dl:244 Septimius Severus, Dl:339; Santo Bambino Gesn, Dl:244 Arch of, Dl:11,330 Santo Liberatore, see MOunt Servii, Tomb of, Dl:103 Liberatore Settimana Santa, see Holy Week Sappho, Dl:40,328; D2:303,379 27

Shakespeare, William, D2:320 SpinelLi, Cardinal, Dl:135 She-woLf of the CapitoL, Square of Trajan's CoLumn, Dl : 11 7 D1 : 136 Sicily, D2:158,294; Sicilian Stabio, D2:189 coins, D2:322 StolLberg, Ernst, Count, Silenus, Dl:339 D2:411-12; LeopoLd, Simon [sic] Stylites, Dl:118 Count, D1:121n.,262; Sirens, D2:370 D2: 66, 14 4 Sistine ChapeL, D2:320; visit Strabo, Dl:154n. to, D1:181-5; HoLy Week Strada Gregoriana, 01:278 observances (1796), Studio visits, Dl:220-21 Stufa Dl:386,392,397-8,402 deL DiavoLo, D2:377 Socrates, Stuttgart, 01:278,279 Dl:36,38,46,121,282,375 Styx, Dl:282 SoLfatara/Zolfatara, Dl:288; Subiaco, D1:97,372,382; D2:50 D2:40,52,112,131,172,182, Subleyras, Mad., Dl: 82 343,355,356,369,375,385, Suetonius, Dl:19 399; ascent, D2:184-6 Sulla, D1:112 SoLomon, Dl:341 Sun, Temple of the, D1:55n.; SoLon, D2:18 D2:80; Sun God,Dl:39 Somma, Dl:287,303,329; Swabia, D2:17 D2:125,135,233,265,289, Switzerland, 01:174; 323,338,340,346,349,396 D2:4,204,289,407,409,425; SophocLes, Dl:44,57 Swiss forms, D2:198; Soracte, Swiss peop1e, D2:404 Dl:6,14,28,52,72,76,157, SybiL, D2:402 303,308,312,329; D2:47 SyLvester, Pope, 01:327 Sorrento, Dl:287; Syracuse, D2:402 D2:122,135,289,344,399, 415 Soulavie, D2:390 Tacitus, Dl:334 South Germany, D2:6 TantaLides, Dl:276 Space and time, D1:283 Tarpeian Rock, Spada, PaLazzo, see Palazzo Dl:41,117,290,293,323,364 Spada Tarquins: D1:15; D2:37; Spain, D2:91; King of Spain, Tarquinius Priscus, D1:27; effects of Spanish D1:93,101 rule in Ischia, D2:416 Tartarus, D1:276 SpaLLanzani, Dl:359 Tasso, Torquato, Dl:146-7 Spanish ambassador,D1:277 D2:372,382,391,399 Spanish Square, see Piazza di TeLephus, Dl:339 Spagna Tempe, D2:58,136,164,171 Sparta, D2:402 SpelLanzani, D2:390 Tempio della Tossa, Sphinx, Dl:355; sphinxes, D1:173,381; D2:175; see D2:92 also Vesta, Temple of 28 (TivoLi) . D2:13,29,67; view of Rome Tempio del MOndo, Dl:176 from, Dl:152-3 TempLe of Aesculapius, of Tiberius, Dl:85; D2:21 Bacchus, etc.: see TibuLlus, Dl:179 individual names Tibur, town, TempLe robbery, the, Dl:349 Dl:9,161,167,168,170,171, Templum Fidei, Dl:94 172,181,245,323,373,375; Terence, Library of, Dl:115-16 D2:40,47,99 Terni, Dl:203,288,357 Tiburnus, Dl:169,170 Tiburtine Terpsichore, Dl:222,375,388; Bills, Dl:122; D2:47 Ticino, D2:266 D1:139 Tischbein,LH.W., German Terracina, D2:94,99,370 painter, Oirector Teverone, Dl:40,128,357; Neapolitan Academy of D2:46; bridge, Dl:48 Arts, 1789-99, Dl:54; ThaLia, D1:222 D2:116,141,151-2,155- Theater (Teatro) Argentina, 7,294,296,314-16,333 Dl:228-9; della VaLle, Titan, D2:233,364 01:221-2,229 Titian (Tiziano Vecellio), Thebes, Dl:121; D2:402 Dl:236,249,250,295,297, Theodosius, D1:320; D2:12; 387; D2:27,28,297,319; Hippodrome of, Dl:322 "EarthLy and Divine Theseus, Love," Dl:253 Dl:43,46,134,209,333,334; Titus, Dl:130,351; D2:31,309; D2:297 at Coliseum, Dl:67; Arch Thessaly, D2:148 of, D1:10,55,66,266; Thetis, D1:191 Baths of, Dl:10,119,150, Thompson, Dr., English doctor 245,292,293 at Naples, D2:116,118, Tivoli, 141,167-8,390 D1:14,53,72,239,307,361; D2:13,46,60,71,175,405; visit, D1:163-79; second visit, D1:372-85 Tiziano, see Titian Todi, Luiza Rosa, opera singer, D2:304 Toro Farnese, D2:114 Torre (dell') Annunziata, D2:117,190,370 Torre dei Schiavi, Dl:133,359 61 Torre del Greco, D2:113,117,118,119 Tiber, 20,125,189,339,356,370 Dl:ll,13,15,27,28,29,30, Torreone (Torre GuernaLe), 76,96,97,114,122,207,218, D2:237,261 244,266-9.291,292,307, Tossa, Madonna/Tempio deLLa, 312,323,348,356,363,364; 29 see Vesta, Temple of D2:199,238,243,244,245, (Tivoli) 248,249,254,272 Toulouse, Dl:115; D2:227 Van Dyck, Sir Anthony, D2:27-8 Tracconaria, D2:176-7 Varus, Quintilius, see Tragic Muse of M.P. Cl., Quintilius Varus D2:295 Vatican, Dl:29,153,308,394; Trajan, Dl:130,228,335; and city of, Dl:109; visits, Coliseum, Dl:68; and D1:32-3,55-61,327-9; Circus Maximus, 101; Belvedere, D1:32,280,365- CoLumn of, D1:118,137,239 71; D2:158,333; ApoLLo Tramontana, Dl:147,149,303; Belvedere, Dl:33,55-6; D2:284 Traonea (Mt.), Laocoon, Dl:55-6; Large D2:247,248 Rotunda, Dl: 57-9; Room of Trastevere, Dl:207,236,268; the Muses, D1:59; Room of D2:423; foLkways, D1:329 the AnimaLs, Dl:59-60; 30; visit, Dl:304-5; Great Gallery, Dl:60-61; women of, Dl:268,273 Raphael's Stanze, Dl:147- TrendeL, CaroLine, widow of 9,194,196,327-9; Raphael's Filangieri, D2:141 and Loges, Dl: 291; see also n., 149-50,357,415 Sistine Chapel Trevi Fountain, see Fontana di VeLabri, Dl:290 Trevi Velia, D2:19 Triponte (Tres Tabernae), Velino, Dl:203 D2:93 Velletri, Dl:122; D2:91,94,370 Trippel, Dl:210-11 Venice, D1:210 Tritons, D2:150,153 Ventotiene, D2: 374,390,415 Turnus, Dl:93 Venus, Dl: Tusculum, Dl:72,120; 85,145,151,152,167,180, D2:40,43,52-5; Tusculan 184,212,220-21, 227- hiLL(s), D2:39, 8,263,344,389; D2:11,77; 42,43,416; Tusculan Temple of mountain, Dl:303; (Baia?), D2:175; Venus D2:52,55,71 and Adonis, D1:209; Venus de' Medici, D1:220; ULysses, Dl:341,354 D2:11,33; Venus Genetrix, UnterwaLden,Dl:199 D2: 32; Venus of Cnidus, Urania, Dl:47,184,228; D2:295 Dl: 263; Parthenopean Urban VIII, D1:205 Venus, D1:367; D2:300; Venus Victrix, D2:295 V******, D2:14 Vernet, Horace, Dl:310 Veronese, VaLerius PubLicuLo, Dl:117 Paolo, Dl:389; D2:77 Verzasca, Val Grotta, D2:90 Dl:166 VaLle (delle) MOLare, Vespasian, D2:296 D2:42,218 Vesta, Dl:94; TempLes of Val/Valle (delLe) (Rome), Dl:15,94-5,266; Molina/Moline, Temple of (Tempio deLla 30 Tossa, Tivoli), ViLla Appolinari, Dl:189,391 Dl:165-6,173,176- Villa Borghese, Dl:5 7,178,179,374,381 6,29,126,189,203,226,240, Vestal Virgins, Dl:15,94-5; 315,391; D2:10; Large statues,Dl:75,90 Casino,D2:77-81; Apollo Vesuvius, Dl:287; Saurocthonos,D2:78; busts D2:90,106,107,112,115, of Lucius Varus and 117,125,135,142,145,155, Marcus Aurelius,D2:78; 177,179,219,220,233,264, Borghese Gladiator,D2:78 271,289,299,304,325,328, 9; Standing Muse,D2:79; 369,373,380,385,396,399, Daughter of Niobe,D2:79; 400,406,410,421; visit to Mounted Curtius,D2:79-80; Hermitage, D2:337-56 Horae,D2:80 Vetrano, valley, D2:346,348 Via Villa Borghese (Frascati), Appia, Dl:99-107; D2:9,83 D2:53 4 ViLla Brunati, see Villa Via Consularis/Ovationis, Magnani D2:89 Villa Chigi (CasteL Gandolfo), Via FLaminia, Dl:27 D2:59 Via Labicana, 01:133,361 Villa Conti (Frascati), D2:38 Via Prenestina, Dl:133,361 Via 9 Sacra, Dl:7,65,70,138,266 Via Villa Corsini, Dl:52,268,280; Triumphalis, D2:86 Gardens, Dl:76,124 Vicar of WakefieLd, 02:244 Villa d'Este (Tivoli), Vicario, see CarLuzzi Dl:172,177-8 Villa Doria, Vico, G.B., D2:122,135,399 Dl:29,225-6,253 Villa Vieni a Casa, D2:235,248 Falconieri (Frascati), Vienna, Dl: 87 D2:41,50,52,53,55 Vi11a Vietri, Dl:390; D2:145,164, GiuLia, Dl:189,308,354 Villa 198,199,200,204,205,206, Giustiniani, Dl:150-52 207,208,211,218,226,228, 229,234,238,239,247,249, 250,251,253,261,267,269, ViLla Hadriani, see Hadrian, 272,282,283 Villa of Villa Lanti, ViLLa ALbani, 2nd visit, D2:8 VilLa Lepri, Dl:128-33: Pallas statue, Dl:191,354,364-5 128-9; Room of R. Hangs, 131-2; other visits, ViLla Ludovisi, Dl:300-303,359; view Dl:29,71,102,240,313,333; from, Dl:302-3 sculptures, Dl:43-5; Villa Aldobrandini (Rome), second visit, Dl:48-53; 01:293-6 Queen of OLympus ViLLa Aldobrandini (Tuscu1um), (Juno),Dl:48-50; Casino, 01: 120 Dl:50-51; view,Dl:51-2,72 ViLLa Aldovrandini (Frascati), Villa Madama, Dl:27-8 Villa D2:39,41,70 Magnani, formerly Brunati, 01:110,113,334 31 Villa Mattei, D1:84-6,110,120 Vomero, D2:122,132,134,146, 121,212-13,244,268 323,339 Villa Mazarini (Resina), von der Vogelweide, Walther, D2:121 D1: 262 Villa Medici, Vopiscus, Dl:179 D1:100,118,226,239; Vosco crater, D2:414-15 D2:83; Bosco di Vulcan, Dl:190; D2:356; Medici,Dl:239 vulcanologists, German, Villa Millini, Italian, and French, Dl:27,52,96,153,201 D2:54n. 2,280,308,365 Wall of Aurelian, see Villa Mondragone (Frascati), D1:303; D2:44,46,52,53 Aurelian, Wall of Villa Montalto (Frascati), Wetterhorn, Dl:187 D2:44,71 WieLand, Christoph Martin, Villa Pamphili (Pamfili), German writer, D1:52,153,217,269-70; Dl:26,188,195; D2:48, 309 grounds and view, Wincke1mann, J.J., German Dl:33,74-6,351-2; D2:34 archaeologist and Villa Patrici, Dl:318 classical scholar, Dl:49- Villa Patrizi/Patrici 50,128,130,296,300,354, (Naples), D2:134,147 368; D2:30,31,152,300 Villa Picolomini (Frascati), Wisdom, Goddess of (Minerva), D2:39,40,41,46,53-4 Dl:190 Villa Reale (Naples), Woutky, Dl:287,288 Wouwermann, D2: 113, 325 Villa D2:23 Ruffinelli (Frascati), D2:39 Wiirttemberg, Duke and Duchess Villa Taverna (Frascati), of, D1:278 D2:41,46,53 Virgil, Dl:115,157,382; 02:320; grave of, XSnophon, Dl:374; D2:40 D2:113,115,164; School of/Scuola di Virgilio, Zachariah, Dl:183; D2:24 Zealand, Dl:270; D2:225 D2:130,148,363; Virgilian Zephyr, D1:319,352 underworld, D2:173 Zoega, Georg (JUrgen), Danish Virgin Mary, Dl:248 antiquarian and Vitellius, D2:31 archaeologist, 1755-1809: Viterbo, Dl:31,52,171,308,374; Dl:36,39,40,54,80,83- D2:47 6,90,119,121,124,128,129, Vivara, D2:365,368,396,399 133,149,186,188,225- Vivarium, Dl:70 6,241,300,301,302,306, Vizenzio, Don Niccolo, D2:316 318,319,367,368,369,389; Volsci, VoLscians,tribe, D2: 4,10,12,48,52,83,85 Dl:9,122; D2:91,94 Zolfatara, see SoLfatara Volturnus River, D2:107 Zurich, Dl:204