Chapter VIII (3)

The magazine says that if the emperor should suffer the imperious pope to be allowed to govern at will the great bishoprics of Cologne, Bremen, Treves, and many others, which were the most important feudatories of his empire, his own dominion would be reduced to a shadow. But if the emperor could fill them with creatures of his own, make bishops at his will, and depose them and sequester their revenues if they resisted his tyranny, or sell them, as he did, to the highest bidder--thrusting out the lawful occupants, and intruding men who could have been only usurpers, and who really were criminals in the eye of the law, and usually dissolute and scandalous in morals--where would have been the rightful freedom and independence of the church? How could the pope have maintained order and discipline in the church, and protected the interests of religion? At worst, the imperious will of the pontiff was as legitimate and as trustworthy as the imperious will of such a brutal tyrant and moral monster as was Henry. The pope did but claim his rights and the rights of the faithful people. It was no less important that the spiritual authority should govern in spirituals than it was that the secular authority should govern in temporals. The pope did not interfere, nor propose to interfere, with the emperor in the exercise of his authority in temporals; but he claimed the right, which the emperor could not deny, to govern in spirituals; and resisted the attempt of Henry to exercise any authority in the church, which, whatever infidels and secularists may pretend, is of more importance than the state, for it maintains the state. He never pretended to any authority in the fiefs of the empire, or to subject to his will matters not confessedly within his jurisdiction.

Does the writer in the magazine maintain that the Methodist General Conference would be wrong to claim the right of choosing and appointing its own bishops, and assigning the pastors, elders, and preachers to their respective circuits; and that it could justly be accused of seeking to dominate over the state if it resisted, with all its power, the attempt of the state to take that matter into its own hands, and appoint for all the Methodist local conferences, districts, and circuits, bishops and pastors, itinerant and local preachers, and should appoint men of profligate lives, who scorned the _Book of Discipline_, Unitarians, Universalists, rationalists, and infidels, or the bitter enemies of Methodism; those who would neglect every spiritual duty, and seek only to plunder the funds and churches to provide for their own lawless pleasures, or to pay the bribes by which they obtained their appointment? We think not. And yet this is only a mild statement of what Henry did, and of what Gregory resisted. The pope claimed and sought to obtain no more for the church in Germany than is the acknowledged right of every professedly Christian sect in this country, and which every sect fully enjoys, without any let or hindrance from the state. Why, then, this outcry against Gregory VII.? Do these men who are so bitter against him, and gnash their teeth at him, know what they do? {94} Have they ever for a moment reflected how much the modern world owes for its freedom and civilization to just such great popes as Hildebrand, who asserted energetically the rights of God, the freedom of religion, and made the royal and imperial despots and brutal tyrants who would trample on all laws, human and divine, feel that, if they would wear their crowns, they must study to restrain their power within its proper limits, and to rule justly for the common good, according to the law of God?

What Germany thought of the conduct of Henry is evinced by the fact that when Gregory struck him with the sword of Peter and Paul, everybody abandoned him but his deeply injured wife and one faithful attendant. The whole nation felt a sense of relief and breathed freely. An incubus which oppressed its breast was thrown off. The picture of the sufferings of Henry traversing the Alps in the winter and standing shivering with cold in his thin garb, as a penitent before the door of the pontiff, is greatly exaggerated, and the attempt to excite sympathy for him and indignation against the pontiff can have no success with those who have studied with some care the history of the times. Henry was a bad man; a capricious, unprincipled, tyrannical, and brutal ruler, and his cause was bad. The pope was in the right; he was on the side of truth and justice, of God and humanity, pure morals and just liberty. Leo the historian, a Protestant, and Voigt, a Protestant minister, both Germans, have each completely vindicated Gregory's conduct toward Henry of Germany, though Harper's historian is probably ignorant of that fact, as he is of some others.

As to the pope's subjecting Henry to the discipline of the church, and depriving him of his crown, all we need say is, that all men are equal before God and the church, and kings and kaisers are as much amenable to the discipline of the church, acknowledged by them to be Christ's kingdom, as the meanest of their subjects. The pope assumed no more than the kirk session assumed when it sent their King Charles II. to the "cuttie stool." The revolutionists of Spain have just deprived Isabella Segunda of her crown and throne, with the general applause of the non-Catholic world, and no pope ever deprived a prince who denied his jurisdiction, or his legal right to sit in judgment on his case, nor, till after a fair trial had been had, and a judicial sentence was rendered according to the existing laws of his principality. We see not why, then, the popes should be decried for doing legally, and after trial, what revolutionists are applauded for doing without trial and against all law, human and divine--unless it be because the pope deprived only base and profligate monsters, stained with the worst of crimes; and the revolutionists deprive the guiltless, who violate no law of the state or of the church, The pope deprived for crime; the revolutionists usually for virtue or innocence, only under pretence of ameliorating the state, which they subvert.

But our space is nearly exhausted, and we must hurry on. Innocent III. is another of those great bishops of Rome that excite the wrath of _Harper's Magazine_--probably because he was really a great pope, energetic in asserting the faith, in removing scandals, in enforcing discipline on kings and princes as well as on their subjects; in repressing sects, like the Albigenses, that struck at the very foundations of religion and society, or of the moral order; in defending the purity of morals and the sanctity of marriage, and in espousing the cause of the weak against the strong, of oppressed innocence against oppressive guilt. {95} This is too much for the endurance of the magazine. It indeed does not say that Innocent did not espouse the cause of justice in the case of Philip Augustus and his injured queen, Ingeburga; but it contends that he did it from unworthy motives, for the sake of extending and consolidating the papal authority over kings and princes. Though he admits John Lackland was a moral monster, and opened negotiations with a Mohammedan prince to the scandal of Christendom, offered to make himself a Mussulman, and would have embraced Islamism if the infidel prince had not repelled him with indignation and contempt; it yet finds that Innocent was altogether wrong in taking effective measures to restrain his tyranny, cruelty, licentiousness, and plunder of the churches and robbery of his subjects. His motive was simply to monopolize power and profit for the papal see. He also, for like reasons, was wrong in resisting Frederic II. of Germany, who, he says, preferred Islamism to Christianity, as itself probably prefers it to Catholicity.

The article closes with a tirade against Alexander VI., and his children, Caesar and Lucretia Borgia, Roscoe, a Protestant or rationalist, has vindicated the character of Lucretia, that accomplished, capable, and most grossly calumniated woman, who, in her real history, appears to have been not less eminent for her virtues than for her beauty and abilities. Caesar Borgia we have no disposition to defend, though we have ample grounds for believing that he was by no means so black as Italian hatred and malice have painted him. Alexander was originally in the army of Spain, and his manners and morals were such as we oftener associate with military men than with ecclesiastics, He lived with a woman who was another man's wife, and had two or three children by her. But this was while he was a soldier, and before he was an ecclesiastic or thought of taking orders. He was called to Rome for his eminent administrative ability, by his uncle, Pope Callixtus III.; took, in honor of his uncle, the name of Borgia; became an ecclesiastic; was, after some time, made cardinal, and finally raised to the papal throne under the name of Alexander VI. After he was made cardinal, if, indeed, after he became an ecclesiastic, nothing discreditable to his morals has been proved against him; and his moral character, during his entire pontificate, was, according to the best authorities, irreproachable. The Borgias had, however, the damning sin of being Spaniards, not Italians; and of seeking to reduce the Italian robber barons to submission and obedience to law, and to govern Italy in the interests of public order. They had, therefore, many bitter and powerful enemies; hence, the aspersions of their character, and the numerous fables against them, and which but too many historians have taken for authenticated facts. The alleged poisonings of Alexander and his daughter Lucretia are none of them proved, and are inventions of Italian hatred and malice. Yet, though Alexander's conduct as pope was irreproachable, and his administration able and vigorous, his antecedents were such that his election to the papal throne was a questionable policy, and Savonarola held it to be irregular and null.

The magazine indulges in the old cant about the contrast between the poverty and humility of Peter and the wealth and grandeur of his successors; the simplicity of the primitive worship, and the pomp and splendor of the Roman service. {96} There is no need of answering this. When the Messrs. Harper Brothers started the printing business in this city, we presume their establishment was in striking contrast to their present magnificent establishment in Cliff street. When the world was converted to the church, and the supreme pontiff had to sustain relations with sovereign princes, to receive their ambassadors, and send his legates to every court in Christendom to look after the interests of religion--the chief interest of both society and individuals--larger accommodations than were afforded by that "upper room" in Jerusalem were needed, and a more imposing establishment than St. Peter may have had was a necessity of the altered state of things. Even our Methodist friends, we notice, find it inconvenient to observe the plainness and simplicity in dress and manners prescribed by John Wesley their founder. He forbids, we believe, splendid churches, with steeples and bells; and the earliest houses for Methodist meetings, even we remember, were very different from the elegant structures they are now erecting. We heard a waggish minister say of one of them, "Call you this the Lord's house? you should rather call it the Lord's barn."

The Catholic Church continues and fulfils the synagogue, and her service is, to a great extent, modelled after the Jewish, which was prescribed by God himself. The dress of the pontiff, when he celebrates the Holy Sacrifice, is less gorgeous than that of the Jewish high-priest. St. Peter's is larger than was Solomon's temple, but it is not more gorgeous; and the Catholic service, except in the infinite superiority of the victim immolated upon the altar, is not more splendid, grand, or imposing than was the divinely prescribed temple service of the Hebrews. The magazine appears to think with Judas Iscariot, that the costly ointment with which a woman that had been a sinner anointed the feet of Jesus, after she had washed them with her tears and wiped them with her hair, was a great waste, and might have been put to a better use. But our Lord did not think so, and Judas Iscariot did not become the prince of the apostles. We owe all we have to God, and it is but fitting that we should employ the best we have in his service.

Here we must close. We have not replied to all the misstatements, misrepresentations, perversions, and insinuations of the article in _Harper's Magazine_. We could not do it in a brief article like the present. It would require volumes to do it. We have touched only on a few salient points that struck us in glancing over it; but we have said enough to show its _animus_ and to expose its untrustworthiness. Refuted it we have not, for there really is nothing in it to refute, It lays down no principles, states no premises, draws no conclusions. It leaves all that to be supplied by the ignorance and prejudices of its readers. It is a mere series of statements that require no answer but a flat denial. It is not strange that the magazine should calumniate the popes, and seek to pervert their history. Our Lord built his church on Peter, being himself the chief cornerstone; and nothing is more natural than that they who hate the church should strike their heads against the papacy. The popes have always been the chief object of attack, and have had to bear the brunt of the battle. Yet they have labored, suffered, been persecuted, imprisoned, exiled, and martyred for the salvation of mankind. What depth of meaning in the dying words of the exiled Gregory VII., "I have loved justice, and hated iniquity; therefore I die in exile." Alas! the world knows not its benefactors, and crucifies its redeemers!

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{97}

March Omens. [Footnote 44]

[Footnote 44: From _Irish Odes and other Poems_, by
Aubrey De Vere, just Issued by the Catholic Publication
Society.]

ON ivied stems and leafless sprays
The sunshine lies in dream:
Scarcely yon mirrored willow sways
Within the watery gleam.

In woods far off the dove is heard,
And streams that feed the lake:
All else is hushed save one small bird,
That twitters in the brake.

Yet something works through earth and air,
A sound less heard than felt,
Whispering of Nature's procreant care,
While the last snow-flakes melt.

The year anon her rose will don;
But to-day this trance is best--
This weaving of fibre and knitting of bone
In Earth's maternal breast.

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{98}

Translated From The German
By Richard Storrs Willis.

Emily Linder.

A Life-portrait.

The circle of those who were witness to the blossom-period of the city of Munich, that glorious epoch of twenty or thirty years which dawned upon the Bavarian capital when Louis I. ascended the throne, is gradually narrowing, and every year contracts it still further. The name of her to whom this sketch is dedicated belonged to this circle, and is closely associated with the best of those who aided in inaugurating this brilliant epoch, and rendering Munich a hearthstone of culture which attracted the gaze of the educated world. Sunny period of old Munich! They of that time speak of it with the same enthusiasm as of their own youth. Yet to a future generation will their testimony sound like some beautiful tradition.

To not a few, the name of Miss Emily Linder appeared for the first time, as the intelligence of her death passed through the public journals of February, 1857. Yet was her life no ordinary one; and though it never tended to publicity, she accomplished more in her great seclusion than many a noisy and feted celebrity. Hers was a quiet and unassuming nature; she belonged to those who speak little and accomplish much. It is therefore befitting, now that she has gone to her home, here to speak of her. Not so much to praise her, for she shrank from all earthly praise; but to keep her memory fresh among her friends and to present to a selfish, distracted age, poor in faith, the animating example of a pure, faith-inspired, and symmetrical character a life full of fidelity, unselfishness, and enthusiasm.

Swiss by birth and unchangeably devoted to her circumscribed home, Emily Linder little dreamed, probably, when in early life she wandered to Munich, that she would yet close a long life there. But over this life, swiftly as it glided along, there watched a special, directing Providence; and no one could more cheerfully have recognized this Providence than did she. What originally attracted her to Munich was Art: she probably contemplated, at first, only brief and transient visit there; but the metropolis of German art became a second home to her--even more than this.

Emily Linder belonged to a wealthy mercantile family of Basle, and was born at that place on the 11th of October, 1797. She received a careful religious education, (in the reformed faith of her parents,) and that varied instruction which rendered her unusually wakeful mind susceptible to topics of deeper import. She seemed to have inherited from her grandfather, who was a lover and collector of artistic objects, a fondness for fine art. Following this predilection, the gifted girl decided to seize the pallet and devote herself to painting as an occupation. Such was her entirely independent position as to fortune, that nothing but inward enthusiasm could have led her to this step, or have confined her from thenceforth to the easel.

{99}

The home of Holbein's genius offered her at first, doubtless, inspiration enough. But a new star had arisen in German art, and the youthful Swiss was drawn powerfully by its leading away from home--to Munich. The modest city on the verdant Iser began at that period to prove the goal of pilgrimage to every ambitious disciple of art. Miss Linder also heard of it, and, instead of going to Dresden, as she had intended, she turned for her further improvement to Munich. On her arrival in this city she had attained to an age of twenty-seven years; but her devotion to her chosen profession was so earnest, that she entered as a simple pupil the Academy of Fine Arts. In the catalogue of the academy, Emily Linder is inscribed as historical painter, on the 4th of November, 1824. But she frequented the studios only a few weeks. At that time it was customary to accept ladies as pupils; but she soon perceived that the position was hardly a becoming one, surrounded by so many young people of various characters, and all beginners like herself. She therefore had recourse to Professor Schlotthauer for private instruction. Under the guidance of this excellent master, "a veritable house-father in the painter's academy," as Brentano characteristically termed him, she pursued her studies in good earnest, and, according to the representation of her teacher, made rapid progress in the severer style of drawing, in which she had hitherto been less practised than in painting. She soon perfected herself to such an extent that she was enabled to complete her own compositions, and thus derived double satisfaction from her profession.

It was indeed a pleasure in those days, competing with so many enthusiastic young artists and with the newly-appearing works in constant view, to labor and strive onward with the rest. This was the time, too, when Cornelius assumed the directorship of the Munich Academy and inaugurated, in grand style, the new era of German art. A wondrous life dawned upon Munich art at that period. Cornelius himself, in his old age, recalled with emotion and enthusiasm this youthful period of new German art. At Rome, thirty years later, on the occasion of the Louis festival of German artists, 20th May 1855, while he was delivering an address so celebrated for its many piquant flashes, he thus painted the joyous industry of those days:

"But when King Louis ascended the throne of his fathers, then
began the sport. Zounds! what moulding, building, drawing, and
painting! With what eagerness, with what hilarity each went to
his work! But it was an earnest hilarity: ... nor was Munich at
that time a mere hot-house of art. The warmth was a healthy and
vital one, born of the flaming fire of inspiration, the
evidence of which every work, whatever its defects, bore upon
its very face. Those men who worked together in brotherly unity
knew that there confronted them the art tribunal of posterity
and of the German nation. It concerned them, now, that German
genius should open a new pathway in art, as it had already so
gloriously done in poetry, in music, in science."

In this glorious time of youthful aspiration, bold conception, and joyful industry, Miss Linder began her artistic career in Munich. Is it a wonder then that the city pleased her daily better, and imperceptibly gained a home-like power over her? Nor had she, by any means, a lack of intellectual incitement. Her independent position and rare culture secured to her the most agreeable social position. In the family of Herr von Ringseis, to which she had brought an introduction from Basle, and where gathered the nobility of the entire fatherland, she came into contact with the most eminent artists and scholars. {100} Chief among these was Cornelius, who welcomed her to his family circle. The old master of German art remained a life-long friend of hers and warmly attached to her. Among her more intimate companions, she numbered also the two Eberhards, Heinrich Hess, Franz von Baader. Somewhat later, by the transfer of the university to Munich, were added to these Schubert, Görres, Schelling, Lasaulx. Also the two Boiseree, who in the autumn of 1827 came to Munich with their art collection, which had been purchased by King Louis, were soon numbered among her nearer acquaintances.

Amid so choice a circle there unfolded itself for the young artist a spiritual and intense life, to which she abandoned herself with all the joyous simplicity and freshness of an artistic nature; a nature which was susceptible also to the beautiful and the grand in other things--in poetry, in music, and in science. The quiet, friendly lady-artist became everywhere a favorite.

But, amid all these manifold occupations, there was ever a certain earnestness, a striving out of the temporal into the eternal. Even art was not to her a mere amusement. Genuine art possesses an ennobling power, and she experienced what Michael Angelo once said to his friend Vittoria Colonna, "True painting is naturally religious and noble; for even the struggle toward perfection elevates the soul to devotion, draws it near to God and unites it with him." Attracted by the pure and lofty in art, Miss Linder gave preference to religious painting, a taste which was encouraged by her sterling master: and it caused her, though a Protestant, special gratification, while ever seeking the best studies, to paint or copy, whenever she could, devotional church pictures.

In order to become acquainted, through actual observation, with the principal works of Christian art, she determined on a journey to Italy. Her first visit she decided to confine to the cities of upper Italy, and in company with Professor Schlotthauer and his wife, this plan was carried out during the summer and autumn of 1825. Milan, Verona, Padua, Venice, Bologna, were visited, and, led by the hand of her intelligent master, they all passed under her examination. The goal of her travel was to be Florence. But the long-continued, fine autumn weather attracted the travellers further and further, and at length they came to Perugia, the middle point of the Umbrian school, and thence to the neighboring, picturesque-lying Assisi. At this place a little circumstance occurred which became of deep significance in the after life of the artist.

The vetturino, familiar with the land and the people, called the attention of the travellers to the fact that in Assisi there was a monastery of German Franciscan nuns. A colony of poor German women in the middle of Italian lands! That was enough to decide the party to visit the monastery and greet their pious countrywomen in the language of home. But they found the sisterhood in evident distress. As they stood before the lattice, the history of the monastery was briefly related to them by the superior. It owed its origin to the patrician family Nocker of Munich, and according to the terms of its establishment was intended only for Germans, and more particularly for Bavarian maidens. Under Napoleon I. it was suspended, and the nuns were cared for in private dwellings, where, hoping for better times, they still continued, as well as they could, the practice of their vocation. These better times came. After the fall of the Napoleonic dynasty, the purchasers of the monastery consented to relinquish it, and the poor Franciscans could at least reoccupy the building. {101} But it went so hard with them, that they were sometimes obliged to ring the distress-bell, and the number of inmates diminished. At the time of the arrival of our three travellers, they numbered but twelve. An increase of numbers under such circumstances was hardly to be hoped for, and the existence of the monastery seemed again endangered. Municipal abolishment was threatened, with the unavoidable prospect to the nuns of being distributed among the various Italian monasteries. Now to maintain themselves as a German order was everything to these Franciscans; and thus the superior represented it to her travelling country-people, with all simple-heartedness, closing her narration with the entreaty that, on their return to Munich, they would not forget the little German monastery in Assisi, but care for it as they might be able, and cause younger sisters to come to them from Bavaria, in order to save the establishment from utter extinction.

The three travellers took their leave filled with sympathy, and promising to bear in mind the petition of the superior. They commenced their homeward travel from Assisi, passed through Genoa and reached Munich again in November. Miss Linder vigorously recommenced her artistic occupations, filled with animation at her new experiences. But during the winter evenings the Italian trip often formed the topic of conversation in the Schlotthauer family, and generally closed with the question, How shall we manage to increase the number of candidates in the monastery at Assisi? But at that period this was not so easy. The secular spirit had spread itself broadly in German lands: the current of fresh, Catholic life flowed mostly in hidden courses. But with surprise they soon learned of its continued activity. Through one of those invisible channels which Providence avails itself of, in its own good time--in every-day life termed accident--the cry for help of the superior at Assisi penetrated to to a village where pious hearts were prepared for it. One day there came a letter for Professor Schlotthauer from Landshut, addressed to him by an unknown maiden of the humbler class named Therese Frish, stating that she had heard of the monastery at Assisi, and the request of the superior: in Landshut was a goodly number of young girls who had long cherished the desire in their hearts for convent life, and only waited for an opportunity to realize their wishes: several of them, some possessed of means, were ready at any moment to leave for Assisi. This was welcome intelligence, and the friends of the superior in Munich were not backward in performing their part. Thus in the spring they had the happiness of seeing a little band of candidates departing for Assisi. The monastery was rescued, and commenced from that time, through the ever-increasing sympathy in Germany, a new and beneficent career. From year to year, assisted by the people of Munich, there wandered true-hearted though indigent maidens to this quiet asylum of piety, to reach which, as Brentano wrote twelve years later, (1838,) was the dearest wish of these pious children.

Her art trip had thus recompensed the maiden of Basle in a manner little dreamed of or counted on. The impression which this peculiar experience made upon her susceptible nature could not well be a transient one. The little monastery at Assisi--what could be more natural?--from thenceforth lay very closely to her heart, and its memories became most dear to her. The personality of the superior herself, her simple worth and naturalness, gratefully appealed to her; and several years later, on making her second Italian trip, she gladly revisited Assisi. {102} A friendly relation resulted, which, fostered by a regular correspondence, became more intimate every year. She now began to understand the true meaning of a voluntary Christian poverty: the contemplation of which must naturally make a profound impression upon a nature like hers. She had frequent occasion, by active assistance, to prove herself a warm friend of the monastery. Particularly at the time of the great earthquake, (1831,) when this monastery of women was in great want and distress, she stood by the nuns most generously. Ever after, indeed, she remained a constant benefactress of the German daughters of the holy St. Francis; and there, in the birth-place of the saint, was she most assiduously prayed for. In Assisi lay the earliest germ of her quietly-ripening, late-maturing conversion.

In the year 1828, Miss Linder returned to her native city, Basle, in order to prepare for a more lengthened visit to Rome. Like every genuine artist-heart, a powerful influence attracted her to the ancient capital of art, to the eternal city. On her journey thither, she touched at Assisi, having the happiness to escort to the monastery of the Franciscans a new candidate from Munich and to find the nuns there in happiest tranquillity. Cornelius and Schlotthauer reported the same of them, when they passed through, a year and a half later. They received permission from the bishop to hold an interview with the German sisters in the claustral. The innocent joyousness and deep peace of the German nuns was very touching to them. The bishop gave the two artists the best testimony of them in his assurance that he constantly presented these pious Germans to their Italian sisters as an example for imitation.

Accompanied with the nuns' blessing Miss Linder hastened toward the eternal city, where a new world opened itself to her. Bright, blissful days did she pass in Rome, and so well did it please her, that she remained there nearly three years. Here again her associates were the brightest spirits of the German art circle, and their similarity of aim induced a friendly geniality which in many ways enhanced the pleasure of her stay. Scholars and artists of the German colony sought her society with equal delight. Here she met Overbeck--that St. John among the artists--whose friendship to her and to her subsequent life was of such significance. Neher and Eberle received from her commissions. With the painter Ahlborn she read Dante. The venerable Koch was charmed with the society of the genial Swiss, and passed many a winter's evening with her. Also Thorwaldsen, Bunsen, and Platen were among her intimate acquaintance in Italy.

From Rome Miss Linder made a trip to Naples and Sorrento. With a party of Germans, among whom was Platen, she passed there the summer of 1830. The wondrous poetry of the landscape and skies of Sorrento impressed with their fullest power the sensitive soul of the artist. All three arts, poetry, music, and painting, were brought into requisition to give adequate expression to her enchantment and delight. She became herself a poetess under the influence of all these glories, and described to her friends, who remained behind at Rome, with veritable southern warmth of coloring, her "captivating paradise." As in Rome she listened with the veneration of an intelligent musician to the ancient classic music of the Sistine chapel, so at the Bay of Naples she bestowed her attention upon the popular Italian ballads. Theirs was a genial company, and they sang much together; of their songs and melodies she made a collection, and took home with her. {103} Platen, in his subsequent letters, reminded her of those days, and, writing from Venice, requested of her the music of "triads and octaves," which they had sung together in Sorrento.

On her return to Rome, late in the autumn of the same year, she found Cornelius and his family there, and the friendly relations which subsisted in Munich were warmly renewed. The presence of the honored master created, in the Roman art world, an animated and exhilarating activity, and the rest of her stay was thus enlivened in the most agreeable manner. The following year, in company with Cornelius, she started for home. It was hard parting, as finally, in July, 1831, with a wealth of beautiful and deep impressions, she bade farewell to the Hesperian land which had become so dear to her, to return to Basle; and we must not censure the artist that she found it difficult, as her letters indicate, to forget the blue skies of Italy and accustom herself again to the gray hues of the German heaven. The sharpness of the contrast gradually softened, however, and the old home feeling asserted itself. But the life in Rome remained a bright spot in her memory, and even in later years, when the conversation turned upon it, the habitually quiet lady became warm and animated.

In Rome, on the other hand, the artists were equally loth to part with the aesthetic Swiss. The venerable Koch sent her word, through the the painter Eberle, how much he regretted that he could no longer pass his winter evenings with her. Overbeck and others held with her an animated correspondence. But she remained in hallowed remembrance with the German art-colony, from the assistance she rendered to youthful talent, and her encouragement by actual commissions. The historical painter Adam Eberle, particularly, a pupil of Cornelius, friend and countryman of Lasaulx--a highly gifted and lofty mind, but struggling in the deepest poverty--to him she proved a generous benefactress; and we can truly say, that through her goodness his last days--he died at Rome, 1832--were illumined with a final gleam of sunshine. The letters which she received from the youthful departed, partly during her stay in Rome, partly after her departure, give ample testimony of this, and indicate the manner, generally, of her benevolence in such cases. Immediately on their first meeting in Rome, and learning of his condition, she gave him a commission for an oil painting; with deep emotion he thanked the friendly lady "for the confidence she had thus reposed in a nameless painter." Subsequently she purchased also several drawings of Eberle, each, like the oil painting, of a religious nature; among others, one that she particularly prized, and afterward caused to be engraved, "Peter and Paul journeying to the Occident."

On forwarding this drawing to Basle, together with another, the subject of which was taken from the Old Testament, "as the product of his muse since her departure," Eberle thus writes:

"What chiefly attracts me to these Bible subjects is the
healthy and unaffected language, which I endeavor to translate
into my art. Regard this work of mine as a study which is
necessary for my taste. That which is lacking in it, I know
full well, without the power of supplying it. Accept it,
therefore, as it is. Altogether bad it is not. At a very sad
period was it undertaken, and many a tear has fallen upon it,
which, like a vein of noble metal, seven times purified in its
earthen crucible, glistens through it. I have, indeed, some
assurance that I have not fruitlessly worked, in Overbeck's
judgment upon it, whom you saw at Bunsen's: and this not a
little cheers me."

{104}

Her generous watchfulness wearied not in rescuing him, at the times of his greatest need, and Eberle, with overflowing gratitude, testified to these constant proofs of her goodness, and, even more, to the great delicacy and the kindly words which accompanied every act.

Her personal intercourse at Rome seemed also to have exerted a favorable influence upon his religious sentiments. The taste for mystical writings which, encouraged by Baader, she was cultivating at that period, grew also upon him; and when, shortly after her departure, Lasaulx came to Rome, Eberle was very happy that he could continue with him this favorite and elevating study. He writes to her at Basle on the 25th of September, 1831:

"An old friend of my youth and countryman of mine, C. Lasaulx,
is now my almost exclusive companion: he will probably remain
the winter here and share my dwelling with me. He is, as you
know, a zealous disciple of Schelling, is deeply versed in the
new philosophy, and, what to me is of still more value, in the
mysticism of the middle ages. I rejoice to have gained in him
some compensation for the loss of your society; yet I cannot
share the expectations which he bases upon the new philosophy.
Although my acquaintance with him has divested me of many a
former prejudice, I find myself, nevertheless, attracted only
the more to the 'one thing needful,' assured that only at the
fountain of living waters, Jesus Christ, can our thirst be
quenched."

He adds, however, concerning his friend:

"Lasaulx has nevertheless a very substantial Christian basis,
and if ever his _Knowing_ goes hand in hand with his
_Willing_, and his _Willing_ with his _Knowing_,
we may certainly expect something very sterling from him."

It was Lasaulx himself who communicated the news to their mutual friend, in Germany, of the sudden death of Eberle. Eberle's plan had been to pass yet a year in Rome, then return to Germany, and, seeking again the sheltering wing of his master, Cornelius, in Munich, there to close his art-wanderings. Thus he himself wrote in a letter of the 7th of March, 1832. But a month later he was no more. He succumbed to a disease of the stomach. Shortly before his death, Miss Linder had cheered the invalid by a remittance. On the 24th of April, 1832, Lasaulx thus wrote from Rome:

"Our friend Adam Eberle, at five o'clock in the afternoon of
the 15th of April, after a hard death-struggle, recovered from
the malady of this life. Good-Friday morning we bore him home.
Three days before his death he had the great joy of receiving
your last letter, and that which your love enclosed with it. He
was one of the few whose souls are washed in the blood of the
Lamb, offered from the beginning of the world. The Lamentations
and the Miserere of the divine old masters Palestrini and
Allrgri which you begged our friend to listen to for you, I
have listened to for both of you."

Munich had now so grown upon the affections of the artiste that she again removed thither from Basle in 1832. After her life in Rome, a residence in the German art-metropolis could not but be a necessity to her, and the Bavarian capital was thenceforth her home. Her house became more and more the peaceful abode of the fine arts. Her fortune enabled her, by a succession of commissions, gradually to collect a wealth of pictures and drawings in which the Corypheans of Christian art were represented. Among these Overbeck took the foremost place with a series of subjects from the Evangelists, the choicest of drawings, which during a period of thirty years gradually came into her possession. A beautiful oil painting by Overbeck, which she esteemed most highly, "The death of St. Joseph," was also produced at this time, an elevated delineation of the death of the just. From Cornelius she secured three cartoons of the wall pictures in the Louis-church, ("The Creation,") in which this mighty intellect was worthily represented. {105} In like manner an altar-piece by Conrad Eberhard, one of the most thoughtful compositions of this admirable master, and intended originally for one of the new church edifices of King Louis, took its place among the gems of this house--just as the venerable master himself, in all his purity of soul and pious simplicity, took his place high in the friendship of the hostess.

Next to painting, the two sister arts, poetry and music, were specially cultivated in the home of the artist. She had a clear perception of the true and elevated in poetry, and kept pace, even to old age, with the literary productions of the new era. Her own poetic effusions were confined to the eye of her more intimate friends; but there were some poems upon which Brentano himself placed high value. Her library was a choice one, and her knowledge of languages kept her acquainted with the best productions of the modern cultivated nations. Her aesthetic and scientific acquirements became her well, inasmuch as the cultivation of the mind and of the heart with her kept even pace.

Miss Linder applied herself to music in full earnest. She not only practised several instruments--the aeolodicon and harp were always seen in her drawing-room--but she had herself instructed by Ett in thorough-bass and the history of music. She followed his instructions in harmony with practical exercises. In musical history it was the religious department again which most appealed to her: her researches went back to the earliest times, the development of the true church style, and for the unfolding of this subject she had found in Ett the right man. Moreover, she stood in friendly exchange of views with Proske of Regensburg, a profound student of ancient church music. Sometimes musical gatherings were held, to which Ett brought singing-boys from the choir of St. Michael's Church: ancient religious cantatas, the compositions of Orlando di Lasso, Handel, Abbé Vogler's hymns, and the like, were performed. Conrad Eberhard, an enthusiastic admirer of music and of the master Ett, who with Schlotthauer regularly attended the historical lectures on music, in his ninetieth year spoke with loving recollection of these ennobling evenings at Miss Linder's.

By this varied and earnest devotion to art, as well as artistic and scientific enterprises, to which she constantly brought willing and generous offerings, her life began to assume more and more an ideal significance, and to gain that expansiveness of horizon and completeness which secured for her a position in society as peculiar as it was agreeable. If we would ask what it was that identified this quiet spirit with so distinguished a circle and made her house a rendezvous for scholars and artists, in which the most brilliant and the most profound so gladly met, the explanation would be just this--it was the awakened intelligence which she brought to all intellectual topics, the simple-hearted abandonment to the views of great minds, the readiness with which she recognized and admired the true and the beautiful in all things. It was equally the unselfish, uncalculating enthusiasm, and the perfect purity of soul, which compelled the respect of all. An unvarying geniality blended with a quiet earnestness; a clear intelligence with a golden goodness; a profound view of life in all its phases, from the very heights of a sunny existence--herein resided the gentle attractiveness with which she drew to herself the sympathies of the noblest souls and held them fast.

{106}

A character of such a type is best reflected in its friends. Her life for the most part flowed on so quietly and evenly that it rose clearly to the view of only those who were nearest to her. It seems, therefore, befitting that from among her many friends we should select a few who, like her, are now at rest, and mention some of their salient characteristics.

The foremost place is due to the painter-prince of the new art-epoch himself, Cornelius--who was a friend from her very youth, and only a few months after her, even in these latter days, closed his earthly pilgrimage. The fame of the man and the sense of his loss, still so freshly felt, will justify us in dwelling somewhat more at length on him and his letters. It was, indeed, the opinion of Emily Linder, toward the close of her life, that the letters which she had received from Cornelius might some day be of use in his biography.

At the time Miss Linder started from Munich upon her journey to Switzerland and Italy, her relations with the family of the celebrated painter had already become so intimate, that it was continued in correspondence. Ordinarily it was an Italian-German or double letter, from Carolina and Peter Cornelius, which greeted her; they both recall, with friendly warmth, her residence in Munich, and the message, "We miss you!" was repeatedly wafted after her as she remained longer away. Frau Carolina Cornelius evinced for her a very tender attachment. The genial master himself honored her with confidences from time to time, as to his artistic plans and undertakings. Particularly was this the case when he was commissioned to prepare designs for the Louis-church in Munich, whereby he saw the early realization of a long-cherished and favorite idea of his; when the history of mankind in grand outline, the creation, the redemption, the sending of the Holy Ghost to the church, the last judgment, presented itself to his mind. Then he felt impelled to open his heart to his absent friend, and the postscript, which he appended to a letter of his wife, rises into a veritable dithyrambic. He writes on the 20th of January, 1829:

"I cannot better close this letter than by communicating a
thing which transports me and in which you, my dear friend,
will sympathize. Fancy my good fortune! After completing the
_Glyptothek_, I am to paint a church. It is now sixteen
years that I have been going about with the idea of a Christian
epic in painting--a painted _comoedia divina_--and I have
had hours, and longer periods, when it seemed I had a special
mission for this. And now my heavenly love comes like a bride
in all her beauty to me--what mortal after this can I envy? The
universe opens itself before my eyes: I see heaven, earth, and
hell; I see the past, the present, and the future; I stand on
Sinai and gaze upon the new Jerusalem; I am inebriated and yet
composed. All my friends must pray for me, and you, my dear
Emily. With brotherly love greets you CORNELIUS."

The artistic heroism of this soul--this man whose ideas grasped the world--breathes in these lines with certainly wonderful freshness. In other letters of this happy period his natural humor gains the ascendant, and he indulges in sallies of mirth, afterward begging her indulgence and a friendly remembrance of "the crazy painter Peter Cornelius." Her replies were in a simpler and graver tone, but full of that refreshing independence, which appeared to a nature like his more than aught else. She allowed his geniality full play without compromising her sincerity, or her dignity. He is thus both "charmed and edified" by her letters, and once made the remark of them, "All that your personality led me to fancy of the beautiful and the good finds more artless, more forcible and vivid expression in your letters. {107} It becomes you uncommonly well, whenever you fairly assert yourself."

In the year 1831 the cholera threatened, for a time, to visit Munich. The preparations of the sanitary authorities to meet this uncomfortable guest were already completed. Miss Linder was in Basle, and sent thence a friendly invitation to Cornelius and his family to take refuge at her domestic hearth. The knightly response of the master, dated Munich, 15th of November 1831, is as follows:

"Your friendly suggestion from the shelter of your hospitable
hearth to laugh at the cholera, and by the same opportunity,
perhaps, to reproduce a _Decameron_, corresponding
thereto, has an indescribable attraction for me, and I should
have acted upon it had I not been afraid to be afraid. From
sheer cowardice at the possible death of my honor, I must stand
the cartridges of the cholera. From the spot where my king and
so many admirable and honorable men stand their ground, must
Cornelius never run away. You will take in good part the
informality of this letter from your fanciful friend, yet he
craves of you an _indulgenza plenaria_ while he ends with
the bold declaration that he indescribably loves and honors you.
P. V. CORNELIUS."

At this period an idea seized Cornelius, which long occupied his attention, namely, to record the noteworthy incidents of his own eventful artist-life; a plan which certainly would have enriched literature by at least one original work and have proved of inestimable value to the history of modern art. Unfortunately, the plan was never carried out; but it affords a proof of his high esteem for his friend that Cornelius intended the memoirs to be written in the form of letters addressed to her, as will appear from the two following letters. They are written under the influence of the same exuberant spirits in which the grand conception of his "Christian epic" had placed him:

"Munich, February 12, 1832.
"Very Dear Friend: This is not meant as an answer to the
welcome and beautiful letter which you sent me through H.
Hauser; it is only a slight expression of my gratitude and my
great delight at the kindliness and the loyal friendship which
your dear letter breathes for me, unworthy. I have lately been
asking myself why this letter-writing, which, as you and all
the world knows, is a horror to me, since my correspondence
with you has set me back into that happy period when one can
write an entire library and yet not be satisfied. Had I more
leisure, I would carry out an old project to write the history
of my life in letter-form, after the manner of many French
memoirs, and addressed to you. Although for the present this is
not to be thought of, I by no means abandon the plan.

"Heroes and artists--in the most liberal way of viewing
it--have their truest and clearest appreciation in the pure
souls of women. Only Hebe might serve the nectar to Alcides;
only Beatrice conducts the singer into Paradise; Tasso's
delirium is a vague searching in a labyrinth where Ariadne's
thread is broken; Michael Angelo would have been as great a
painter as was Dante a poet had Beatrice opened heaven to him;
Raphael's thousand-feathered Psyche bore a material maiden into
the realm of the stars; her human blood enkindled his and slew
him. When I write my memoirs, you will see how it has gone with
me in this respect. In the mean time I allow you a peep through
the keyhole of my private drawer--it is a poor poem of my
youth, which as penance you must read, because you mockingly
called me a poet. [Footnote 45]

[Footnote 45: It is truly a very youthful poem,
addressed "To the Muse," commencing:
"Confided have I alone
in thee, O Muse," etc. ED.]

"I know not why I send these poor stanzas to you; it appears to
me as though you exercised some charm over the spirits of my
life, who must perforce appear before you. Perhaps one of these
days this letter might serve for a dedication to the book in
question, because, like an overture, it contains in itself the
leading motive. Now farewell, and take no offence at this gay
carnival-arabesque, The ladies of my family heartily greet you:
we have good news from Rome. Heaven bless you, vouchsafe you
cheerfulness and bliss, and bring you soon to us. Meantime,
however, write soon, and often send tidings
to your most devoted friend,
"P. Cornelius."

{108}

Four months later, he reverts to the same subject, on the occasion of sending to her, while at Basle, a sketch of his latest composition for the walls of the Louis-church, ("The Epiphany,") accompanying which he writes:

Munich, June 21, 1832.
"Herewith you find a little sketch of a drawing just completed
for a large cartoon (the corresponding piece to the
Crucifixion,) and instead of interpreting it to you, I beg your
own interpretation of it; it would have such a charm for me to
read in your mind my own conceptions ennobled and beautified.
What coquetry! I hear you laughingly say; and yet I hope to be
pardoned. If it be true that artists have many feelings in
common with women, those which prompt us to try to please those
we love should meet with some indulgence.

"I occupy myself often, on my lonely walks, with the plan of my
intended memoirs; the material begins to assume shape; but
unless you apply to it the finishing touch, it will not be
presentable. I never could bring myself to entrust it to other
hands. In the retrospect of my life I find the material more
abundant than I had supposed. Very difficult will be the
shaping of much of it. How easily does many a tie and relation
in this life lose its true coloring and significance by
omissions; and yet must these very often occur, if the work is
to appear during my lifetime. Before beginning to write, I
shall communicate to you, orally, dearest friend, some portions
of the memoirs, and we can then discuss them at leisure--a
welcome plan to me, for thus will the undertaking fairly ripen.
With inmost respect and love, your devoted
"Peter Von Cornelius."