Chapter XII: Part 12

Between Brescia and Verona, the road passes along the Lago de Garda, whose beautiful wooded shores studded with country seats and enclosed by mountains, present the most beautiful views, which richly repaid us for the uniformity of the previous days journies. At the farthest end of the lake and half in the water, lies Peschiera, a small mean-looking town containing but few houses, but with extensive fortifications. From thence to Verona, the road is again very uninteresting. Upon our arrival, we learned that a female Pianiste and Harpiste of note from Naples was to give a Concert in the theatre, and we proposed to ourselves to go there. Through the slowness of the waiters who brought our supper an hour later than we had ordered it, we were however prevented going. We went nevertheless, at eleven o’clock at night by a beautiful moonlight to see the Coliseum, of all the monuments of Roman greatness, the one which is in the best state of preservation.... We ascended to the topmost benches, which equal in height the loftiest buildings of the town; from thence we had a splendid view over the whole colossal structure. We pictured to ourselves the immense mass of stone filled with the Romans of old--how they cheered the victors in the Arena beneath,--and then lost ourselves in the contemplation of the perishableness of all human greatness, and in comparisons between that vigorous people of yore and the present inhabitants of this beautiful land.

On one side of the Oval, the prisons are still to be seen where the malefactors were confined who were to be thrown to the wild beasts. The arrangement is still existing also, by means of which in a few minutes the circus could be laid under water for naval fights and boat races. During the visit of the Austrian Emperor, the people were treated with a resuscitation of the ancient horse and foot races. We had seen something similar in Milan of which I had forgotten to speak.

_Napoleon_ has erected in the _Foro Buonoparte_, a Circus in the Roman Style, whose exterior consists also of a wall having passages for ascent; but the benches in the interior are of turf only. Of these there are about twelve, but from 25- to 30,000 people find nevertheless room sufficient. On one side of the breadth, stands a handsome building with a fine colonnade looking into the interior, from which stone benches run the whole breadth of the building down to the circus. In this modern Arena, which can also be laid under water, the people were treated at the time of the coronation of _Napoleon_, as king of Italy, with a free admission to a _rechauffé_ of the ancient Roman games. A third but smaller edition, on payment, took place the day before our departure.

First of all, eighteen runners in Roman costume made their appearance, who upon a signal from the trumpets ran forward in a seemingly encumbered manner to the goal. The victor received a flag, from the top of which was suspended a wreath of laurel. The two next best after him, were also presented with tokens of triumph. Twelve horsemen now advanced to compete in speed. Several fell from their horses at the first start, and all of them rode so badly that they excited nothing but laughter and compassion. After the winners had been again rewarded, came the Chariot Race, which however presented both a new and interesting sight. The six charioteers were mounted on small two-wheeled Roman chariots such as one sees upon old coins, and on a given signal to start, lashed their horses, of which there were two to every chariot into a full gallop; at the extremity of the course, one of them in turning fell twice, horses and all, but without taking any harm. The others drove round the course three times, and the victors were again presented with their rewards. Now commenced the grand Triumphal-procession. From thirty to forty Hautboyists in the _Roman_ costume with _Turkish_ music!--playing a March from the Opera “John of Paris” opened the spectacle. Then came the Runners carrying spears; and at length a large Roman triumphal chariot drawn by four oxen, with the whole of the victors. The handsomely decorated oxen had been harnessed in pairs in the Roman manner; but the poor animals had not been accustomed to that sort of thing, and they would not move an inch; so that it was at length found necessary to yoke them in the same manner as they were used to, in their dung carts, and when this was done they went off in style. Behind them came the unsuccessful riders and charioteers who closed the procession.

The costume of all these people and animals was well chosen, and had one not seen round the Circus the modern _beau monde_, with now and then among the runners a three cornered hat, the wearer of which kept order in the games, and, not have heard the Turkish music playing the march from “Aline”, one might indeed for a moment have fancied, to see beneath one the old Romans of yore. But these soldiers and hackney carriage drivers were so sparing of their miserable horses, and at the same time so clumsy, that they soon dissipated every deception.

On the 3^{rd} early in the morning we parted from our agreable fellow travellers, who now proceeded on their farther journey by another road through the Tyrol to Munich. We slept in Vicenza, a filthy dirty place. Our windows looked out upon a lonely street, in which heaps of dirt of the most disgusting kind infected the air in an unbearable manner. But one meets with the same kind of thing here even in the largest Cities, and in the most magnificent squares. If one ascends a retired flight of steps, often of the finest marble, at the grandest palaces, it behoves one to keep in the centre, to avoid contamination, and even the Cathedral of Milan is unapproachable on many sides for the high heaps of filth. This exceeding dirtiness, in which the Italians surpass almost all other nations, prevails also in most of the apartments and kitchens. I thought to myself that a Dutchman would go out of his senses here!

On the 4^{th} at noon, we arrived at the ancient, unsightly Padua, where we stopped till eight o’clock in the evening. We then continued our journey by water in the Canal-Diligence. On getting into the bark, deceived by the uncertain moonlight I missed my footing, and fell into the water; but in my fall I fortunately caught hold of the gunwale of the bark, and was immediately pulled on board again. With the exception of the fright and the trouble of changing my clothes I experienced no unpleasant consequences from this fall. The bark is very conveniently fitted up for the accommodation of from twenty four to thirty persons, and towed by a horse at full trot, goes very fast. The last half of the Canal is thickly dotted on both sides with beautiful country seats and gardens, which at this period are inhabited by the wealthy Venetians. The Palace of the former Viceroy, in which the governor Count _Goes_ resides during the fine season, is particularly remarkable. We much regretted passing this beautiful part of the country in the night, but even by moonlight the view presented is magnificent. At five o’clock in the morning, when all Venice was yet asleep, we arrived, and alighted at the _Albergo della Scala_.

_Venice_, October, 10.

Little as Venice upon the whole, has come up with my expectations, yet I was the more surprised by the beauty of some parts of the city. The Piazza San Marco, is particularly imposing. The thousand-year old church of St. Mark, built in the oriental style, with its five cupolas, its innumerable statues and magnificent mosaic-pictures with their resplendent gold ground; the colossal Bell tower with its pyramid which serves as a beacon to the mariner far away on the Adriatic sea, the three grand buildings almost in the same style of architecture which enclose the square upon three sides; the busy life under the Arcades, the rich shops of the traders and the tastefully decorated coffee-houses, in and in front of which from eight o’clock in the morning till far into the night the fashionable idle world of both sexes may be seen collected: the mingled vociferations of the numerous vendors of refreshments, and of the criers who read aloud the proclamations of the government, or announce the pieces to be performed in the evening at the different Theatres--all these together form so varied a picture, that a stranger finds subject therein for a whole week’s entertainment.

If one then proceeds to the second square which abuts on the first near the church, enclosed on the east side by the former palace of the Doges, and on the west by the prolongation of one of the three large buildings adverted to; a new spectacle quite different from the former one presents itself. Before you, the harbour dotted with gondolas, barks and trading ships of all sizes; on the left the quay bordered with magnificent buildings and churches extending as far as the _giardino publico_. Opposite, situated upon a small island, a monastery in whose handsome church the last Pope was elected, and to the right on the other side of the grand canal the church of _San Giorgia maggiore_ with its majestic dome, surrounded by other beautiful buildings. When the eye has feasted itself on these objects, it is attracted by the nearer surroundings; by the motley crowd of human beings upon the high-arched stone bridges leading over the numerous canals which from this spot intersect the City; by the loading and unloading of the larger ships, the embarking of the fashionable and unfashionable world in gondolas and barks for pleasure-excursions, or journeys of business; by the singular forms of the fish and shell-fish exposed here for sale, and the other numerous striking objects peculiar to a sea-port. Having seen all this, one returns gladly to the square of St. Mark, and there finds new subjects for admiration. Upon contemplating the church more attentively, the four gigantic bronze horses over the chief entry first attract the eye, less by their artistic worth, for they are not of the finest proportions, than on account of their antiquity and their various fortunes. Carried off by the Venetians on the taking of Constantinople, they were placed as war-trophies over the chief entrance of the church of St. Mark, and there remained undisturbed until the French after the conquest of Italy took them to Paris. From thence with all the other treasures of art carried from Italy, they were again brought back after the capture of Paris by the allies, and reinstated in their old place amid the exultations of all Venice. Besides these horses, there are many other memorials of the triumphs of the Venetians in the church of St. Mark. Statues, bas-reliefs, arabesques, columns and capitals from Greece, Egypt and the Barbary States, and it is subject of astonishment in this building, that, though comprising so many objects executed in the most different styles of Art, it presents nevertheless a whole of such harmonious beauty. In front of the church, stand three lofty red painted masts, which on Festival days are decorated with long silken streamers reaching to the ground, and their cast bronze foot-sockets are ornamented with fine bas-reliefs.

On the second square, close to the water, stand two colossal pillars of Egyptian granite, each pillar hewn in one single block. One supports a winged lion in brass, which was also carried to Paris, the other, the patron Saint, the holy Theodorus upon a crocodile.

The interior of the church of St. Mark, is not less beautiful than the exterior. Walls, niches, and domes are entirely covered with Mosaic-pictures, among which it is true some are of little artistic worth; but in the most of them, the composition, drawing, and colouring are very fine, and all have a pure gold ground which in spite of its great age still shines as though it were new. Here, however, one is soon surrounded by whole rows of mendicants, who plead hunger so piteously and look so disgusting, that one is glad to make one’s escape from them with the sacrifice of a few copper coins. In fact one cannot pass through any part of the city at any time without being addressed by beggars, and it is said as many as 25,000 here suffer from hunger. At this period, it is true, the poor subsist very cheaply on cooked, or rather roasted, pumpkins, which are sold at the corner of every street, and of which a piece as big as the hand costs but a centisimo.

On leaving the Square, one finds but little to divert attention, for in Venice people neither ride nor drive, the streets being so narrow that frequently two persons cannot walk side by side. In the busiest part of the city not far from the _Ponte Rialto_, the crowd is so great that one has a difficulty to work one’s way through it. From the dirty habits of the Italians, who throw every sort of refuse into the canals, and from the pestilential smell of half-putrid fish and muscles, together with the disagreeable effluvia from the workshops of most of the artizans, it is very natural to suppose that in these narrow streets, the whole year long, one cannot once breathe a pure air.

Here gondolas take the place of vehicles, and are to be had at a very cheap rate. They all have an awning of black cloth, which gives them a mournful appearance. At the time of the Republic such luxury prevailed in the decoration of the gondolas, that the government found it necessary to establish the present mode of covering. The gondoliers are very expert in rowing and steering, and however great may be the throng on the canals, they pass each other with great swiftness, without coming in collision. When one hires two of them, the speed is equal to that of a horse in full trot. As the houses have, besides the front entry towards the water, a side door or exit upon the street, one can go, it is true, everywhere by land; but on account of the bridges one is obliged to make so many turnings, that one can get to the required place as quickly again by water.

October 12.

By the most beautiful weather we to-day enjoyed the singularly splendid view from the tower of St. Mark, which is ascended very conveniently by a spiral ascent without steps. The view is truly enchanting! On one side one sees over the extensive mass of houses to the mainland, in the distance the snow-covered mountains of the Friaul; on the other side the harbour with its varied and busy life, the Islands covered with handsome churches and buildings; and in the back-ground the open sea. I do not remember having ever seen so beautiful a view from any tower, not even from that of St. Michael’s at Hamburg.

At 4 o’clock we visited the church of the Foundling, where a mass was being performed by the female foundlings. The orchestra and choir were composed entirely of young girls; an old instructress of music gave the time, another accompanied on the organ. There was more to be seen than to be heard, for the composition and execution were execrable. The girls playing the violin, flute, and horns, looked strange enough; the contra-bassist was unfortunately not to be seen, being hidden behind the trellis. There were some good voices among them, and one quite remarkable, which sang up to _g_ on the fourth leger line (_g_^3); but the style of singing of all was horrid.

We have made the acquaintance of several lovers of music, the two Counts _Tomasini_, and Signors _Contin_, _Filigran_, and several others whose names I do not know. The two former are assisting me greatly in making arrangements for my Concert, and if at the present bad time of the year for business, when every body of note is in the country, I should have a tolerable Concert, I shall have them to thank for it.

To-day we had a visit from a German musician, Herr _Aiblinger_, from Munich, and a pupil of _Winter_, who has been residing in Venice for the last sixteen years. He is a pianist and composer, and seems to possess much real taste for his art. At least he complained to us, with a most piteous face, that in this country it was impossible for him to keep pace with his German brothers in art, because he had scarcely ever the good fortune to hear a German work of any note, and that with his enthusiasm for music, his heart was fit to break; that his circumstances bound him to a city where, for sixteen years, he had heard every year the same things over again, while the Germans, in the meantime, had witnessed the production of so many classic works. I afterwards saw some of his productions, and it is much to be regretted that he has been confined in this Siberia of art. In order to give me an idea how little art and artists were esteemed, even by gentlemen who wished to pass for Mæcenas’s, he related to me an anecdote of what occurred to _Bärmann_ of Munich, who was here last winter with Demoiselle _Harles_. Count _Herizo_, a very rich nobleman, who, during the winter, gives a concert at his house every week, to which he frequently invites as many as two hundred persons, besought _Bärmann_, through a third party, to play at one of them. The latter had himself already announced a public concert, and presuming that it would be greatly to his disadvantage if he played elsewhere before, he declined the invitation, but promised to play _after_ his own concert. On the same day, however, Count _Herizo_ gave one of his customary grand concerts in which “the Creation” was performed, I believe for the first time in Venice; and _Bärmann_ had so thin an attendance, that to cover the expenses of the concert he was obliged to add forty francs from his own pocket. Nevertheless a week afterwards, Count _Herizo_ repeated his invitation to _Bärmann_, who now, however, demanded a gratification of twelve Louisd’or. After much debate this was at length agreed to. But _Bärmann_ shortly after was apprised that it was intended to play off a hoax upon him. To avoid this he wrote anew to decline the invitation, and went on a pleasure excursion with _Harles_ to the mainland. Upon his return, a friend of Count _Herizo’s_ came to inquire of him the reason why he would not play, and on being told, he assured him upon his honour that nothing of the kind was intended, and that _Bärmann_ had not the least to fear; upon which the latter gave his promise to appear at the next concert. He was very politely received by Count _Herizo_, and the music began. After the space of an hour, when six pieces had been performed, _Bärmann_ was curious to know when his turn would come; he therefore asked the loan of a programme from his neighbour, and found at the end of the whole of the pieces of music, which at least would last two hours more, the following words: “If time will permit, Herr _Bärmann_ will also perform a concerto on the clarinet.” His rage may be imagined. Count _Herizo_ is reported then to have said to him at the end of the concert, in a loud tone of voice: “We have no time to hear you this evening, but we shall perhaps another time!” and in this manner he was cheated of his pecuniary gratification. _Bärmann_ immediately slunk out, but in so doing was so unfortunate as to mistake the way, and instead of taking the passage leading out upon the street, plumped right into the canal. Fortunately the gondoliers plying near the spot came to his assistance, and soon pulled him out. Half-perished with cold, and highly exasperated, he returned home. Next morning he was summoned before the police by Count _Herizo_. The director of police, after the matter had been explained to him by _Bärmann_, had nevertheless courage sufficient to justify _Bärmann_, and to point out to Count _Herizo_ the rudeness of his conduct. Under such circumstances, however, _Bärmann_ thought it advisable to hasten his departure, especially as a suspicious-looking fellow had been making inquiries about the hours of his going out of evenings. Fräulein _Harles_, also, came badly off. In the first opera she gave tolerable satisfaction, and fault was found only with her bad accent; but on the first representation of the second opera, she was so disconcerted, in her very first scene, by the loud talking, coughing, and laughing of the audience, that she ran off the stage in the middle of her aria, and fell down behind the scenes like one dead. She was seized with an inflammation of the throat, and, during the whole winter, was unable to sing any thing else but the speaking recitatives. All _pièces d’ensemble_ and both finales were sung without her, and yet, as she could find no substitute, she was obliged to appear before the public every evening. The managers deserve praise, for they played her no underhand tricks, but paid her according to the agreement made.

October 15.

There are two kinds of dilettanti-concerts given here. One takes place every fortnight at the _Fenice_ theatre, under the direction of Count _Tomasini_. At the one at which I was present _Teresa Sessi_, who was formerly engaged at Vienna, sang two airs, a duet, and a quartet, with much applause, in her old style, which is neither better nor worse. Besides her, a dilettante attracted the attention of the auditory by singing several buffo things in the genuine Italian caricature style. All the rest, particularly the composition and execution of the ouvertures, was, as is usual in Italy, exceedingly bad.

The other is a sort of practice concerts, and takes place once a week, under the direction of Signor _Contin_. With the exception of some of the wind instruments and of the bass-viols, the orchestra is wholly composed of dilettanti, and the pieces performed consist mostly of symphonies and overtures by German masters. But a proper study of these works is quite out of the question, and it is considered matter of gratulation if they are got through without coming to a stillstand. On the day I was present, a very old symphony of _Krommer’s_ was performed first, which was followed by the one in E flat major by _Andrew Romberg_.

For the finale I was solicited to direct _Beethoven’s_ second symphony in D major, which I could not refuse. But I had a rare job with the orchestra, for they were accustomed to quite other _tempi_ than I took, and seemed not at all to understand that there are shades of _forte_ and _piano_ in music, for all worked with bow and breath as hard and incessantly as they could, and my ears rang the whole night with the infernal noise. But these practice concerts are nevertheless so far good that they afford the lovers of music in Venice the opportunity of hearing several of our classical instrumental compositions, such as the overtures to “Don Juan” and the “Zauberflöte,” which they had not hitherto been acquainted with; and, though but imperfectly, they learn to feel that the Germans are immensely superior to them in that kind of composition. Indeed they say so themselves, but they do not thoroughly believe it, and only acknowledge it, in order to be enabled to boast with more freedom of their superiority in song and vocal compositions (!!). The self-satisfaction of the Italians, despite their poverty of fancy is in fact unbearable; whenever I executed in their presence any of my things, they thought they could pay me no higher compliment than when they assured me they were quite Italian in taste and style.

October 16.

To-day in the forenoon, in company with three Silesians, we went to the ancient palace of the Doges. The so-called golden stair case was the first thing that attracted our attention. It is outside the building as far as the first floor, is of the finest marble, and ornamented with colossal statues of beautiful proportions. Up to the second and third stories it is in the interior of the building, and there is richly decorated on the sides with marble bas-reliefs, on the ceiling with gilt mouldings and small fresco-paintings, and with very fine statues in the niches. We then saw an extensive suite of salons and apartments, which were truly grand in decoration, the walls and the ceilings are painted in oil by the best masters, and here and there at intervals are the richest and most beautiful sculptured ornaments I ever beheld. The subjects of these pictures are almost exclusively incidents in the history of Venice; Doges returning thanks to the Holy Virgin for victories achieved, or the surrender of the keys of some one of the fortresses besieged by the Venetians, etc. etc. Despite the want of good taste in the bringing together, in these paintings, of heavenly and earthly personages, the execution and grouping of each, particularly in those by _Paul Veronese_, is exceedingly fine. Altogether in my opinion, there is no kind of decoration so befitting and worthy of a princely palace as this, in which the deeds of the nation are immortalized at the same time with the name of the most skilful national artist. In the present day how little feeling exists for this kind of patriotism! Where up to the present day is there to be seen any painting illustrating the modern deeds of heroism of the Germans, executed by the order of a Sovereign? And yet how greatly the artists of the present day are in want of such encouragement and support! And I am here speaking of painters and sculptors only; poets and musicians ought also to have been invited to immortalize the deeds of the German people.

We came at last to the great library, which contains also a perfect treasure of paintings and antique statues. From the gallery of this hall one has a charming view of the harbour.--In order to be enabled to make a comparison between the style of decorating palaces in former time with the modern method, we visited the apartments in the government building fitted up by order of the former Viceroy. We found them pretty and convenient, it is true; but what a difference between the earnest splendour of that ancient palace and the tasteless ornamentation of the new! Instead of the marble bas-reliefs and the rich gilt mouldings and ornaments of the latter, here we found slovenly painted arabesques by the hands of unknown daubers, and the walls hung with silk tapestry or figured paper instead of the pictures of famous masters.

October 17.

Yesterday _Paganini_ returned here again from Trieste, and therefore, as it would appear, has at once abandoned his project of going to Vienna. He called on me this morning, and so I have at length made the personal acquaintance of this wonderful man, of whom since I have been in Italy I have heard some story or other every day. No instrumentalist ever charmed the Italians so much as he, and although they are not very fond of instrumental concerts, yet he gave more than a dozen concerts in Milan and five here. On making nearer enquiry, what it is that he in reality fascinates his auditory with, one hears from the non-musical portion the most exaggerated encomiums--that he is a complete wizard, and brings tones from his violin which were never heard before from that instrument. Connoisseurs, on the other hand, say that it cannot be denied he certainly possesses a great dexterity with the left hand, in double-chords and in passages of every kind, but that the very thing by which he fascinates the crowd debases him to a mere charlatan, and does not compensate for that in which he is utterly wanting--a grand tone, a long bow-stroke, and a tasteful execution. But that by which he captivates the Italian public and which has acquired for him the name of the “Inimitable,” which is even placed under his portraits, consists, on a nearer enquiry, in a succession of feats which, in the dark times of good taste, the once so famous _Scheller_ performed in the small towns and some capitals of Germany, and which at that time equally excited the admiration of our countrymen, viz, in the flageolet tones; in variations upon one string, in which for the purpose of imposing more upon the audience, he takes off the other three strings of the violin; in a peculiar kind of _pizzicato_, produced with the left hand without the help of the right or of the bow; and in many tones quite unnatural to the violin, such as the bassoon tone, the voice of an old woman, etc. etc.--As I never heard the wonderful _Scheller_, whose saying was: “_One God! one Scheller!_” I should much like to hear _Paganini_ play in his peculiar manner, and the more so, because I presume that so admired an artist must possess some more real merits than those adverted to.

The origin of his present skill as a virtuoso is said to have been a four years incarceration, to which he was condemned, for strangling his wife in a fit of violent rage. Such, at least, is the public report in Milan and here also. As from a wholly neglected education he could amuse himself neither with writing nor reading, he cheered the _ennui_ of the tedious hours of his existence in the invention and practise of all the tricks of art with which he now astonishes all Italy. By his disobliging and rude behaviour he has made enemies of several of the lovers of music here, and they, after I have played any thing before them at my lodgings, extol me upon every opportunity at _Paganini’s_ expense, in order to annoy him, which is not only very unjust, since between two artists of such entirely different style no parallel can be drawn; but is also disadvantageous to me, because it makes all _Paganini’s_ admirers and partizans my enemies. His opponents have inserted a letter in the journals, in which they say that my play recalls to them the style of their veteran violinists, _Pugnani_ and _Tartini_, whose grand and dignified manner of handling the violin has become wholly lost in Italy, and had been compelled to make room for the petty and childish manner of their virtuosi of the present day; while the Germans and French had understood how to adapt that noble and simple method of play to the taste of modern times. This letter, which appeared in to-day’s paper without my knowledge, will certainly do me rather harm than good with the public, for the Venetians are firmly persuaded that it is impossible to come up to _Paganini_, much less to surpass him.

October 19.

Our concert took place yesterday, and was better attended than I had expected, since all who have the means to go into the country, or who are not tied to the city by very urgent business, are away, and of all my letters of recommendation the only one I have been yet able to deliver is the one to the governor Count _Goes_. Neither is it worth the trouble, to bring letters of introduction to Italians, for they are of no manner of use. A cold offer of their services, which they do not intend to give, is all that one gets from them. But I must return to the concert. It took place in the St. Luca theatre, which, next to the Fenice, is the largest and handsomest in Venice. The proprietor, Signor _Vendremi_, let me have it on the condition that I should relinquish to him two-thirds of the sale of the boxes which were not private property. There exists, namely, a curious custom in Italy, which is, that certain boxes are sold to private individuals for as long as the house stands, whereby the proprietor of the house abandons all right to them. But these proprietors of boxes must pay the price for admission at the entrance the same as everybody else. This is the same for every part of the house, and always a very low one; with the boxes which remain in the hands of the proprietor of the theatre rare bargains are sometimes driven, and on the performance of very attractive pieces they are frequently paid as high as several carolini. Yesterday very little was taken for the boxes, so that signor _Vendremi_ did not profit much. From the coldness of the public at the commencement of my play, I immediately observed that there was a prejudice against me; but by degrees it subsided, and towards the close of the concert the applause was so unanimous, that I was twice called for. All that I afterwards played now found a much more ready reception, and the clapping of hands was as boisterous as in Milan.

To-day there has also appeared in the paper a very favorable report upon yesterday’s concert, in which it says, in reference to the letter adverted to, that it is unjust and partial to endeavour to praise one style at the expense of another, and that there should be no monopoly of any one genre in art: in which report, however, it also says of me, among other things, “that I unite the Italian sweetness with all the depth of study peculiar to our nation, and that I must be acknowledged to take rank among the first of living violinists--encomiums therefore, such as might content the vainest artist.”

October 20.

_Paganini_ called upon me early this morning to compliment me upon the concert. I very urgently solicited him to play something, and several musical friends who were at my place united their entreaties to mine. But he very bluntly refused, and excused himself on account of a fall, the effects of which he still felt in the arms. Afterwards, when we were alone, and I again besought him, he said, his style of play was calculated for the great public only, and with them never failed in its effect; and that if he was to play anything to me, he must play in a _different_ manner, and for that he was at the moment by no means in the humour; but that we should probably meet in Rome or Naples, and then he would not put me off with a refusal. I shall therefore leave this place in all probability without hearing the wonderful man.

This morning, on going out, we had the wholly unexpected pleasure of meeting _Meyerbeer_ and all his family. He is now returned from a tour through Sicily to meet his parents here, who have not seen him for five years: he will then turn back through Florence and Rome to Naples, to be present at the opening of the new theatre of _St. Carlo_. It was a real enjoyment to me to be able once more to converse with a well-educated German artist on subjects of art. His brother gave me the gratifying information that my opera “Faust” had been performed in Prague. On their journey through they were present at a rehearsal of it. I now look forward with hope to more detailed information respecting its representation.

At the theatre St. Moise we were present at the first performance of the old opera “Don Papirio,” which had been studied with great attention by the vocalists and the orchestra. The prima donna, Madame _Marchesini_, already somewhat _passée_, distinguished herself greatly on that evening by good execution and clever acting. The buffo singer, whose name I do not remember, was also very excellent.

_Bologna_, October 25.

Late on Monday evening we left Venice by the “mail boat.” As the wind was very favorable, we performed the first part of the journey by water, as far as where the canal falls into the Lagunes, very quickly. Twice, for a short distance, we crossed a part of the open sea, that is the great and lesser harbour of Chiozza, where the motion of our bark was so violent from the roughness of the sea, that _Dorette_ and the children were regularly sea-sick. I only escaped this affliction by seating myself on the deck in the fresh air. When we had run into the canal, and afterwards into the Po, where the boat was towed by horses, it went slowly and quietly enough, so that I soon went to fetch up the patients. As I am told here, that the rich people of the town are still in the country, and that even at the most favorable season of the year concerts scarcely cover their expenses, we shall abandon the idea of giving one here, and continue our journey to Florence to-morrow morning by vetturino.

_Florence_, October 28.

The journey here over the Apennines, with very fine weather, was exceedingly pleasant. The mountains, though of a considerable height, are wooded almost to their summits, and the trees and bushes, were now rich with the most beautiful colours of their autumnal garb. The valley in which Florence lies presents a highly charming prospect. When one looks down upon the beautiful gardens and country seats, one seems to be entering a very Paradise.

November 2.

Florence does not quite come up to the expectations one forms of it from the description of over-enthusiastic travellers. Dresden is called the German Florence, but is not much honoured by the parallel. The situation of Dresden, as well as the city itself, are incomparably finer. The Arno is a dirty, mean-looking river, and is not in the least to be compared with the majestic Elbe. The four bridges which lead over it and connect the two parts of the town are certainly good and substantial, but not so long or so elegant as that of Dresden. Neither has Florence such fine buildings nor such handsome squares as Dresden, and excels it alone in its treasures of art of every kind. Of these there are so many here, that one can scarcely find time to see them all. On the square in front of the ancient palace stand several groups of colossal statues in marble and bronze of the most celebrated of the old masters, which make of this square, otherwise so irregular and unattractive, one of the most interesting in the world for connoisseurs in art. A group in marble, representing the rape of a Sabine, especially charmed us. From this square it is not far to the cathedral, a gigantic building with a cupola, which in circumference and height is said to be little inferior to St. Peter’s at Rome. The exterior is somewhat too party-coloured and not very tasteful; the walls are inlaid with tables of marble of different colours, which present a variety of patterns. Near the church stands a very lofty square clock-tower, which is ornamented in the same manner. Belonging thereto, although isolated from it, is also a christening chapel built in the same style, and also with a tolerably high dome. Here are the celebrated gates of bronze, of which _Michael Angelo_ said they were worthy to stand at the entrance to the abode of the blessed, as they were too beautiful for any earthly building. There are three of them, two of which are executed and ornamented in the same style. But the single one is by far the handsomest and has far larger bas-reliefs than the other two. In the whole world is not to be seen any thing more beautiful in the grouping, drawing, perspective, softness and purity of the work than these bas-reliefs.

In another church we saw a succession of tombs, among which those of _Michael Angelo_, _Nardini_, and _Alfieri_ interested us greatly. On the tomb of the former is his bust, executed with his own hand, and three female figures (by one of his pupils) personifying the three arts in which he excelled: architecture, painting, and sculpture, mourning for his loss. What however does it not confer upon the artists who merited such memorials of their worth, and upon their contemporaries also who raised them to them! Where can one find anything of the kind in Germany? Where have _Mozart_ and _Haydn_ the memorials to their honour? In Vienna no one even knows where they are buried.

November 5.

On the day we arrived, and almost every evening since, we have been to the theatre in the _Via della Pergola_. They are now giving an opera of _Rossini’s_, “L’Italiana in Algeri,” and a grand ballet. _Rossini_ is now the favorite composer of the Italians, and several of his operas, “Tancredi,” “Il Turco in Italia,” and the above-named, are performed with great applause in almost every town in Italy. I was therefore glad, after having heard his compositions so frequently and highly praised in Milan and Venice, to hear something of his myself. This opera has, however, not wholly satisfied my expectations; in the first place it is wanting, like all Italian music, in purity of style, characteristic proprieties in the personages, and judicious calculation of the length or shortness of the music for the scene. These indispensable qualities of an opera to which we would give the appellation classic, I had however not expected, as we do not at all miss them in an Italian opera. One is accustomed to have the same person sing alternately in the tragic and comic style, and to hear from a peasant girl the same pompous vocal ornamentation as from a queen or a heroine, and to hear one of the persons performing sing alone, for a quarter of an hour at a time, in situations of the most impassioned kind, while the others walk about in the back-ground, or partly behind the scenes, and chat and laugh with their acquaintances. But I did indeed expect qualities which should distinguish _Rossini’s_ work above that of his colleagues--novelty of ideas, for instance; purity of harmony, etc.; but of all these I found but little. What the Italians consider new in _Rossini’s_ operas is not new to us; for they consist of ideas and modulations for the most part long since known in Germany; for instance the appoggiatura in the bass at the beginning of the much-admired duett in the first act:

[Music]

which the musicians in Florence boasted of to me as something quite new, and discovered by _Rossini_. In Milan, where I heard the same duet at a concert, it was probably found too hard, and the fifth and sixth measures were thus changed:

[Music]

Or the following modulation, also, at the finale of the first act:

[Music]

Purity of harmony is not to be found in him any more than in any other modern Italian composer; and I have heard many sequences of quints like the following:

[Music]

But in attention to the rhythm and in the complete use he makes of the orchestra, he distinguishes himself above his countrymen.

The instrumentation, however, as compared with ours, first introduced by _Mozart_, is still very meagre, and the Italians in that still cling too much to the old. The viols and bassoons almost always go through the whole opera _col Basso_, and the clarinets and hautboys in _Unisono_. As in most Italian operas with from six to eight contra-basses there is only one violincello, and usually not even a good one, they as yet know nothing here of the (since _Mozart’s_ day) frequent use of the violincello for middle voices, which, skilfully brought in, has such a splendid effect; and they are far behind the Germans in the knowledge of how to get the best effect from the wind instruments. But what surprised me most, was to hear sometimes in these operas a very uneven cantabile, while a flowing and for the voice grateful and well arranged cantabile is the only praise-worthy quality of the modern Italian operatic music, and must compensate for all the deficiencies and faults. The two following passages struck me most; the first in an aria of the prima donna, the second, in the first finale, where it frequently recurs:

[Music]

[Music]

Both these passages are not only unsingable but exceedingly insipid, and the second especially, from the somewhat slow movement and its frequent recurrence, is wholly unbearable.

Among the singers in this opera, Madame _Georgi_, the prima donna, is the only remarkable one. She has a full, powerful voice of rare compass, from

[Music]

to

[Music]

Her part is written for a contralto, and she can therefore exhibit her high notes in the _fiorituri_ only; if she possesses equal power in the low notes a deep soprano part would suit her much better. Like almost every singer we have yet heard in Italy she has the vice of ornamenting too much, and does not know how to derive all the advantage she might from her splendid voice. One hears very plainly, moreover, that she does not draw in the least upon her own spontaneous feeling and taste, but everything has been studied; so that her _fiorituri_, which are repeated every evening, note for note, become so wearisome that one cannot hear her again without repugnance. She was formerly a dillettante, and only now sings in the third theatre; but nevertheless she is already an excellent actress.

The ballet, which is given every evening between the two acts of the opera, is the most splendid of any I have ever yet seen. I think it is called “The Destruction of the Western Empire,” and is especially remarkable for the constant introduction of great masses of persons on the stage in full activity who form the boldest and most surprising groups. It has been studied with extraordinary correctness, and is performed every evening with the same precision. At the end a cavalry engagement was represented, which however always looks somewhat stiff and awkward.

November, 8.

Last evening our concert took place in the theatre _della Pergola_. The Grand-duke, to whom I brought a letter from his brother _Rudolph_, and who has received me several times very graciously at his residence, honoured it with his presence, accompanied by his whole family. The small though select auditory was very animated, and after having greeted the Grand-duke with the usual recognitions, were not restrained from a loud expression of applause of my performances. The music had a very good effect in the spacious and sonorous theatre; but the accompaniment was not of the best.--To-day I have received a great number of invitations to give a second concert next week, from which I am promised a better result. I shall make the venture, although the Grand-duke, who goes to-morrow to Pisa to meet his brother _Rainer_, will not be here. Yesterday’s concert, exclusive of the Archduke’s present to me, did not bring in more than the evening’s expenses, which were, as they always are, very considerable; the price of admission being only three paoli, and all disposition over the sale of a single box being again denied me. A very favorable notice of my concert appeared this afternoon in the newspaper.

November, 12.

As we have now been several times to the picture-gallery, and attentively observed all that it contains, I will commit to paper a few words, not upon the truly splendid works of art which it contains, for they have already been frequently and well described, but also the expression of the impression which they made upon me. I must first of all give due praise to the admirable custom, one by no means usual in Italy, of admitting the public to the gallery free. At the entrance one finds a notice in four or five languages, that the guardians of the gallery are forbidden under the penalty of the loss of their situation, to take the smallest present. Though perhaps they may not altogether adhere too strictly to this injunction, one is at least fully secured from the importunate begging, with which one is everywhere pursued in Italy, and in this place, made sacred by art, gives oneself peacefully up to the enjoyment.

To assist my memory hereafter I have sketched a plan of the gallery and marked the position where the works of art stand which made the greatest impression upon me. As I never make use either of a guide or a book to find the objects worthy of observation in a city (I am averse to all dictation as what I should admire, and never permit myself to be deprived of the pleasure of finding for myself the works of art in a gallery which are known to me by reputation), therefore it is very possible that I have erred in many instances. On the first day I looked for a long time and with attention at the works of art which are in the gallery proper, before the apartments were opened in which the _most choice_ are situated. I am even now glad I did so, as afterwards, when I had seen the most perfect specimens of art, I could never again remain for any length of time with the works exhibited in the gallery. One exception to this was the _group of the Laocoon_, which I always contemplated with renewed admiration. When the sanctuary of art was thrown open we first beheld the celebrated _Medicean Venus_, whose perfect and surpassingly beautiful form is yet more thrown out by the large curtain of red-velvet suspended behind her. In the same rotunda with her are the greatest master-pieces ever produced by the chisel and by the brush: the _Apollo del Belvedere_[23] and _Raphael’s St. John_. To contemplate and admire in these three works of art the highest ideal of human beauty is an enjoyment quite peculiar in its kind. After reiterated contemplation and long hesitation I gave the palm for beauty to the _St. John_. Any thing more charming and at the same time more noble than the whole form of this Youth cannot be imagined by the most lively fancy. What may have contributed somewhat to this decision on my part is the circumstance that the _Apollo_ as well as the _Venus_ are of a three-quarter-life size, a proportion which seems to be not quite happily chosen, as the figures being so nearly the real size of life, always appear to be wanting in something, which, if they were smaller, would not be the case. The _Apollo_ has nevertheless a rather too feminine beauty, which not I alone, but my wife also and several other persons present remarked. In this apartment are numerous other master-pieces, among which a head by _Raphael_, the _Venus_ of _Titian_; and a group of gladiators in marble, excited most our admiration. Of the pictures arranged according to the schools in the side apartments, the head of a female, by _Carlo Dolce_, pleased me most; but one soon returns again to the gems of the whole collection. On the other side of the building, in two apartments, is the collection of Bronzes, among which the celebrated flying _Mercury_ excites the most admiration. In another saloon is a collection of _Niobes_, among which are some beautiful works of art. Besides these we saw innumerable portraits of celebrated masters, for the most part painted by themselves.

[23] This is the _Apollino_. _Spohr_ himself corrects this error at a subsequent part of his narrative.

November 13.

Behind the residence of the Grand-duke is a large garden called, I know not why, _Boboli_. It is open to all on Sundays and Fridays. Last Sunday we went there for the second time, and afterwards heard mass in the Court-chapel. The Grand-duke, who has a collection of between three and four-hundred masses of celebrated masters of every period, had given out upon this occasion one of _Michael Haydn’s_ for performance; it was executed with tolerable precision, but it was found necessary to play a very simple solo for the tenor-trumpet upon the viol. The musicians asked me afterwards whether we had players on the trumpet in Germany who could execute such soli as that!

Upon our way back our hired lacquey pointed out to us the covered passage leading from the Grand-ducal residence to the water side, which passes through several streets at a considerable height, and after being carried across the river Arno over one of the bridges, and through a few more streets, abuts at the government buildings in which the gallery is also situated. This gallery, which is at least a quarter of an hour’s walk in length, is used by the Grand-duke when in wet weather he attends the sittings of the privy council.

November 15.