Part 5
I set off alone with old Morrison to see Tivoli. I was to join Ly. Bessborough, etc., there. Saw the ruins of Zenobia’s villa; Adrian’s villa, which must have been the grandest work in his dominions; the Temple of Vesta, which is in the garden of the inn; the cavern of Neptune. In the morning early I set off upon a _somarello_ to see the Cascatelle. The villa of Mæcenas is a picturesque object above them, but the present Pope is doing all to destroy it, as it is to be converted into a gunpowder manufactory. A beautiful group of cypresses in the gardens of Este.
I have omitted making notes of _more_ than half the things I saw, Pantheon, Castle of St. Angelo, etc., etc., without end.
On the 14th of June, 1793, we quitted Rome: our route was to Florence. The Perugia road is not furnished with post horses, we therefore went with _vetturini_, a very slow, wearisome mode of conveyance, but not without its advantages in a pretty country. We crossed the Tiber on the Milvian Bridge,[48] on which the ambassadors from the Allobroges (Savoy) were arrested; and their papers seized discovered the Catiline conspiracy. The Campagna on this side of Rome exhibits much variety of hill and dale, but it is wretchedly cultivated. In ancient times it was well shaded with groves and forests; towers and tombs and various remains of Roman buildings are seen here. We crossed a bridge about nine miles from Rome built upon a stratum of lava. We then ascended the crater of a very large volcano, descended into it, and traversed it, by an old house thrown down about five years ago by an earthquake. On the right of the road to Monte Rosa are seen the remains of the Æmilian Way, made by Paulus Æmilius after his conquest of Greece, about 150 years before the Christian era. Soracte we left greatly to the right; it appears an isolated mountain in a plain.
About sunset I got out and walked: delicious evening. I partook of the serenity around, tho’ my heart felt the want of some object to open itself into; for in spite of my cold maxims of solitary comforts, I often detect my wishes wandering to some imaginary happiness. I strive to repress, but often feel, a strong desire to be dependent upon another for happiness; but circumstanced as I am the thought must be checked and selfish independence alone encouraged. The want of passion in my constitution will always save me from the calamity of letting my heart run away with my reason, but what will be my resource if both head and heart accord in their choice? Hitherto the only foible I have been drawn into was of too short a duration to be alarming; besides absence interposed and drew me from a danger I might have fallen into then, but could not now. A revolution has happened in my whole system; my opinions are more formed, and tho’ I am conscious they retain still a portion of absurdity, yet I have adopted some that will be useful.
[Sidenote: SUNSET EFFECTS]
We met an Abbé with his pupils, who advised us to take some water from the neighbouring town, as the spring was famous for excellent water. Nepe, the name of the town, showed itself through some trees; a fine ruined tower covered with thick ivy peeped thro’ the festoons of vines, a pretty foreground to the picturesque ruin. The tower is part of a castle built by the Farnese family, now fallen into decay. The wealth of that house has sunk into the Spanish branch of Bourbon; the vixen Princess of Parma conveyed it by her marriage with Philip V. It is at present vested in the King of Naples. A modern aqueduct, not unlike the Pont du Gard. Charming view up the bed of a river, in which there are large spacious caverns grown over with rich foliage. The contrast of the luxurious verdure of the leaves with the bright yellow of the soil produced a charming effect. This lovely prospect was terminated by Soracte, rising majestically behind some tall elms; the purple tinge from the last rays of the sinking sun was strongly dyed upon it. The whole Western horizon glowed with its lustre--a more glorious sight nature never yielded to the eye of man. I remember, one evening at Dresden, being enraptured by the beauty of a pretty circumstance of the two lights. One fine evening in August upon the bridge we walked to enjoy the freshness: from the West the last rays of the sun were darting upon the water, to which it had imparted its glowing tints; on the other side the moon had risen from a pink cloud and her pale, silvery light was beaming upon the glassy surface of the Elbe. There could not be a more beautiful combination of lights.
Arrived at Civita Castellana at about nine o’clock. It is situated on a steep rock, inaccessible on three sides. It is by some supposed to have been the ancient city of Veii in Etruria. Alexander VI. built a palace, which has more the appearance of a fortress than a habitation in peaceful times.
I got up at half-past five to examine the bridge and castle. The morning was delicious; the vapours were still low, but the genial beams of the sun dissipated them shortly. The luxury of a fine morning at that hour is very great, and has the additional charm of singularity to me, as I sit up in melancholy solitude too late at night to be in the habit of tasting the dews of the morning. Crossed the Tiber over the Ponte Felice, the boundary of Latium. We soon got amongst the hills, very beautifully covered to their summits with brushwood and forest trees. At Terni we took _calèches_ to see the cascade. We first went to the top; in our way we passed the little village Papigno, which in ’86 was very near demolished by an earthquake; there were three shocks, which successively destroyed the houses and church. From the top of the Monte del Marmore the fall is very grand; it is reckoned the grandest in Europe and scarcely yields to that of Niagara in America.[49] Caius[50] Dentatus, a Roman Consul, increased the cataract by turning the waters from the country of Rieti into the Lake Luco, by which the mass of water in the Velino was increased. We saw several rainbows in the spray. The Velino like the Anio has the property of incrustation, vulgarly called _petrifying water_. All the roots of the trees are petrified by this deposition of selenite. The Velino is very rapid. Just above the fall there is a ferry; two intrepid _Cappuccini_ would cross when the flood was roaring; they paid the forfeit of their lives for their temerity. The stream impelled the fragile bark to the brink, and they were dashed to pieces speedily; their cowls, rosary, and patron saint could not save them. We went to the foot of the mountain to look up at the cascade, a magnificent sight. We rode upon _somarelli_ through a delicious grove of orange and lemon trees, and afterwards through a small wood filled with nightingales. I was enchanted: the melody of the birds, the tranquillity and perfume of the air, and the beauty of all the objects around, suspended for a moment my habitual discontent, and I felt even happy. We dined in a little wood of myrtle and ilex, but when we assembled together the illusion of happiness vanished. How far preferable is solitude to the society of those who are too nearly connected to be objects of indifference. Love or hatred must be bestowed upon habitual inmates! Alas! Alas! Would it were true what I say in public, that my heart is shut to social affections. Every occasion that calls forth _épanchement_ proves the _besoin_ I have to belong to something that I can cherish. Mr. Hodges[51] travels with us as far as Florence. He is a good-tempered, gentlemanlike man, and full of readiness to do any little services; were he odious, I should rejoice at the society of a _tiers_.
[Sidenote: ST. FRANCIS]
The road from thence begins to ascend the Apennines, and oxen were hired at La Strettura. The travellers dined at Spoleto, and crossed the river Trevi, ‘the ancient Clitumnus,’ where ‘there is a singular temple, very perfect, upon the margin of the rivulet; it is not in the purest taste and is probably a fabric erected in the lower ages.’ They reached Foligno late that evening.
_Monday, 17th June._--The morning was so rainy that I imprudently indulged in a prolonged nap, which threw us back on our journey. The road lay through a rich and highly cultivated country, neither hilly nor flat, abounding in trees. Assisi, the birthplace of the celebrated St. Francis, whose fame is confined to the legend that records his miracles, etc. At the age of 25 he, by his eloquence and example, induced multitudes voluntarily to renounce the enjoyments of life and enter a system of abstinence and self-denial in every shape. All the mendicant orders owe their origin to him, as Franciscan is the generic term for Capuchins, Carmelites, Carthusians, etc. There is a new church built over his humble dwelling. We crossed a torrent over a very steep bridge.
We reached this place (Perugia) very late. I had a letter to Mr. Molloy, an Irish priest at St. Augustin: he was of use in showing me the town. This was the birthplace of Pietro di Perugino, more known by the works of his disciples than from his own merits. The town is adorned by his first and finest works. In the Convent of St. Augustin many paintings, but in a hard, stiff manner. Four heads in crayons, by _Raphael_, charmingly executed. They preserve a letter from Pietro di Perugino, written to the Prior of the Convent, begging him to send him some grain: the writing is execrable, which tempted a wag to write:--
Fu restaurator della pittura Ma guastator della scrittura.
A fine view from the church of St. Peter’s out of the city walls. The town is situated upon a very steep hill, and is exposed to the fury of the winds.
_Tuesday, 18th._--The road from Perugia to the Lake[52] very rough; the jolts were insufferable.
A very fatiguing journey of 9 hours brought us to Comania, which is composed of a few scattered houses at the foot of Cortona. Cortona is _en l’air_, at the top of a high, bleak, black, desolate hill composed of schistos interspersed with sandstone and mica. Cortona is one of the most ancient towns in Etruria; there are still slight remains of the Etruscan walls. We set off from Comania upon _somarelli_. Our entry was in a grotesque style, a drunken _cicerone_ conducted us to a mad _chanoine_.
[Sidenote: CELARI]
Aforesaid _chanoine_, Celari, is the master academician of Etruscan antiquities; he himself is the rarest and greatest curiosity in the collection. In person he resembled Gil Perez,[53] but was inferior in _charms_. His dress was characteristic of the oddity of the wearer; a triangular hat squatted as flat upon his head as a Prussian soldier’s and about as greasy and rusty, under which a cotton night-cap vied in colour with it, jointly setting off the features of a jaundiced, paralytic visage; his head tottering from disease and imbecility. The rest of his person in unison with his upper story; a dropsical paunch gave him an uncouth waddle, his scabby hands disgusting from their leprous indication. A more disgusting assemblage I never met with before in a single object. He showed nothing remarkable but a bronze vase found in a sepulchre, a curious bas-relief round the rim. When I escaped from his clutches, I went to a very learned and civil advocate who has many chosen antiquities. A pretty Cupid in terra cotta, a shield embossed with figures, elephants’ tusks found at Trasimene probably Carthaginian, a medal of Porsena, etc., etc.
We were too late to see anything in the cathedral. I believe Pietro di Cortona was disgusted with his native city, and preferred painting for Roman palaces.
Very late when we set off in the morn. Road rough and uncomfortable. We arrived at Arezzo at 12. I was in an agony for two hours and half after my arrival, as my children did not come. I fancied every terrible accident in the catalogue of travelling disasters, and had got into a post _calèche_, _alone_, to set off and meet them, when, God be praised, just as I was getting out of the town I met their carriage and found them safe and well.
We could only reach St. Giovanni at night, June 19th; a most wretched inn, one scarcely ever frequented but by pedestrians with their wallets slung across their shoulders. The country to Florence through the famous Val d’Arno very charming. Reached that beautiful tho’ gloomy town on the 20th. The Tuscan heavy, massy, grand style of architecture spreads a solemnity over the buildings, and the streets are not so filled as those of Naples and Rome. I went in the eve. with Ly. E. Foster and Ly. Hervey to the Opera. David[54] sang.
I saw there for the first time the celebrated Baron d’Armfeldt.[55] He was the _ami de cœur_ of the late King of Sweden.[56] Immediately on his being wounded in the ball room he sent for d’Armfeldt, who was not apprised of the assassination till he saw his friend and sovereign weltering in his blood. The King said, ‘You, my friend, have been wounded too often to be shocked at this, but it is hard upon a man who never turned from an enemy to be wounded in the back.’ He attended his last moments, and received every testimony of his regard and affection. The ---- was strongly attached to him; this rendered him obnoxious to the Regent, who has exiled him by giving him credentials to all the Italian states, with a Chargé d’affaires who is a spy upon his actions. He wears the silver sword embroidered upon his coat under the order, a badge the most flattering, as it is a testimony of good conduct and popularity. To be entitled to it a man must have the unanimous approbation of the whole army; a single soldier’s objecting invalidates the choice of the others. He must have carried and raised a siege, and won a battle; not above two men in Sweden possess it. His manners are mild and gentle, his person is like a soprano. He seems to be a great favourite with the Herveys.[57] T. P.[58] is here. D’Armfeldt is _toujours en fonction_, as the eternal Princess of Sweden[59] is frisking about.
[Sidenote: D’ARMFELDT]
_21st._--I went with my friend Mr. Brand to see the Gallery, but I was not in spirits to enjoy anything. I have received letters giving me a melancholy account of my poor father’s illness. He wishes me to return and see him. I am perplexed about my children. The weather is too hot for them to travel; the youngest has not had the smallpox; besides that, I like to have a pledge for my return. The Cascines very pleasant of evenings. Ly. Elizabeth wishes Mr. Pelham to escort her and the Duchess home. I think it is a bad thing for him, as he imputes his late long illness entirely to the worry he suffered from both of them in conducting them from Lausanne to Florence. I shall advise him to refuse, and persuade him to go quietly with Swinburne, who will consult his whims, and he, of course, not be impelled to consult the whimseys of two capricious ladies.
_22nd._--Staid at home the whole morning to write. Dined at Ld. Hervey’s. D’Armfeldt and Prince Augustus at dinner there. The latter is in a fidget to get to England, as Ly. Augusta is gone, and scandal says is with child. Went in the evening to Mme. d’Albany.[60] She is a Princess Stolberg, widow of the late Pretender; she lives in a state of dubious intimacy with Alfieri, the great Sophocles of Italy. She is lively and good-humoured. She told us some curious anecdotes about Gaston,[61] the head of the Royalist party. She is anxious for the restoration of the King, as she has lost immensely, indeed all that she possesses; yet she does not fall into the violent strain of invective she might be allowed to feel.
_Sunday, 23rd._--I went to the Annunziata to see the fresco upon the cloister walls by _Andrea del Sarto_, ‘Madonna del Sacco,’ a fine picture, well grouped and coloured. In the evening Mr. Pelham set off with Swinburne for Genoa to Turin. Notwithstanding Lord Hervey’s enmity towards Manfredini,[62] I availed myself of my letters to him, and the ceremony of a formal introduction to the Grand Duchess was waived; in consequence of which, as there was a chariot race at which their Royal Highnesses were present,[63] I went into their splendid box and was graciously received. The Grand Duchess is an unfortunate little being, both in figure and understanding; she is crooked, lame, and unhealthy. Being designed for a cloister, her education was neglected. Her extreme ugliness made her hateful to her mother, the Queen of Naples, but upon the death of an elder sister who was destined to be Empress the next succeeded to that rank, and this little wretch took _her_ intended place of Grand Duchess. When Leopold, seeing how frightful she was, offered to send her back, the Grand Duke refused, saying he could not mortify her so much. Her good nature has conquered his disgust; her being with child has probably helped. He rarely visits her apartment; but Manfredini compels him. The Grand Duke is reserved and cold, his manner not near so good as his brother the Emperor. The chariot race is a stupid sport; the form of the cars is antique.
[Sidenote: GRAND DUCHESS OF TUSCANY]
_24th._--The Portuguese Minister, M. de Lima, gave us a breakfast, that we might see the ceremony of the Grand Duke receiving homage from his subjects. I should like to have heard the deputies from Siena say, ‘Soumise par force’--_galanterie de certaine part_ which I could easily dispense with. Nothing more distressing than that species of admiration that keeps one in a fever to bear, from the coarseness and indelicacy of the manner. In the evening went to Prince Augustus’ with Ly. Elizabeth to see the horse races--a stupid and a cruel sight. Went with Ly. H. to see the pretty opera of _I Due Gobbi_.
I asked d’Armfeldt why he wore the white handkerchief tied round his arm: I asked the meaning. When Gustavus made the revolution of 1772 he expected a popular insurrection, and he desired all those who were his friends to take their handkerchiefs and fasten them on their left arms; most everyone present did. An awful moment followed after his declaring his intention of effecting a total change in the Constitution, such as by levying taxes, abridging the power of the aristocracy, and enlarging his own prerogative. He finished by saying, ‘I am either your prisoner or your King.’ A dead silence ensued. A lieutenant and grey corporal exclaimed, ‘Le Suédois est loyal. Oui, Sire, vous êtes le Roi’; the assembly applauded, and the revolution was confirmed. After the acclamations had subsided, he enjoined a solemn silence, ordered them to kneel, and uttered an extempore prayer of thanksgiving for the great event. Hugh Elliot by a mad freak extricated him out of a _mauvais pas_. He was at Gottenburg with a small force, defenceless walls, and 6000 Danes approaching to make him prisoner. Elliot, in his zeal, called out and told the Prince of Hesse that unless he immediately withdrew his forces, he should in the name of Great Britain declare war, send off couriers to bring a fleet to bombard Copenhagen, and others to fetch 30,000 Prussians. This foolish braggadocio frightened the poor Danes, and they slunk away.
The revolution is censured as being a direct violation of those oaths the King took at his coronation. The whole power was lodged in the four estates, Nobles, Citizens, Clergy, Peasantry. The kingly power was a nullity; the Sovereign a phantom. The late King was in the early part of his life in Paris, and Vergennes was supposed to have planned for him the Revolution. Russia harassed him by perpetual wars; contrary to her own practice, she espoused in his dominions the cause of liberty. Rasoumoffsky was very active in aiding the malcontents, and, being detected in bribing many who had leading voices in the Diet, he was ordered to quit Stockholm immediately. Upon his objecting, he was told that unless he went within twenty-four hours he should be _made_ to go on board an English vessel.
[Sidenote: FLORENCE]
D’Armfeldt told me a good many _traits de chevalerie_ of Sir Sidney Smith, alias Charles XII., who is now at Constantinople. If d’Armfeldt’s stories may be relied on, his case is certainly a hard one, but he speaks imprudently in accusing the Regent in the manner he does. He evidently is in greater favour with the Court of Russia than a loyal Swede ought to be.
_25th._--I passed the morning with Fontana.[64] He is a remarkable man, but below his reputation. The news is that the Royalists have been defeated with great loss. The English have taken Tobago. The Comte d’Artois is returned to Ham; he was not allowed to land in England, as he could not be protected against his creditors. Dined at Lord Hervey’s: Prince Augustus, etc. I preferred the quiet of my own room to going to the Opera.
_26th._--I went to the Museum. Fontana appointed me at ten. The institution was founded by the Grand Duke Leopold, and placed under the direction of Fontana. Thirty-eight rooms are filled with objects in every branch of Natural History, Philosophy, Physics, etc. The anatomical preparations in wax are very beautiful. The small representations of the ravages of the plague at Messina are admirably executed; the artist must have had a considerable portion of _sombre_ in his imagination.
I asked the real history of the tarantula, whether he thought there was any foundation for the stories they tell in Calabria of its producing such violent irritation that motion, such as dancing, relieves the patient. He says such a malady exists, and is ascribed to the sting, whereas it proceeds from the imagination of young people. Those who suffer chiefly are adolescents, just at the period when the passions begin to develop themselves and agitate the frame. Those who believe in the reality of the disease tell the story of an incredulous bishop who, resolved to convince the people of the absurdity of the story, exposed his arm to the stings of five of these animals; the consequence was that the bishop suffered like a layman, and the tambourine was called to his relief to assist him cutting capers. Whether this dignified prelate was imposed upon, or whether he thought the superstition too valuable to eradicate, must remain a secret between him and his confessor.
Bishop Burnet records a similar anecdote of Lord Lanesborough, who upon the death of Prince George of Denmark requested an audience of Queen Anne. He obtained it, and advised her Majesty to dissipate her chagrin by _dancing_, as he had always found _that_ to be a sovereign remedy against bodily and mental affliction.