Visits and Sketches at home and abroad. With tales and miscellanies now first collected, and a new edition of the Diary of an Ennuyée

Front matter

VISITS AND SKETCHES AT HOME AND ABROAD. VOL. I. y / ■' '■ y VISITS AND SKETCHES AT HOME AND ABROAD WITH TALES AND MISCELLANIES NOW FIRST COLEECTED ANn A NEW EOITION OF THE DIARY OF AN ENNUYEE. BY MRS. JAMESON, AUTHOR OF " THE CHARACTERISTICS OF WOMEN*," &C. IN FOUR VOLUMES. VOL. I. LONDON SAUNDERS AND OTLEY, CONDUIT STREET. 1834. LONDON : IR0T60N AND PALMER, PRINTERS, SAVOY STREET, STRAND. CONTENTS OF VOL. I. PAGE Preface . . . . . v Sketches op Art, Literature, and Character, Part I. in three Dialogues. I. A Scene in a Steam Boat . . . . 3 A Singular Character . . . .17 Gallery at Ghent . . . .22 The Prince of Orange's Pictures . . .24 A Female Gambler . . . .33 Cologne — the Medusa . . . . 37 Professor Walraf . . . .44 Schlegel and Madame de Stael . . . 47 Story of Archbishop Gerard . . .55 Heidelberg — Elizabeth Stuart . ■ 58 An English Fanner's idea of the picturesque . . 72 II.

Frankfort . . . . . 75 The Theatre, Madame Haitsiuger . . 79 The Versorgung Haus . . . .84 The Stadel Museum . . . .88 Dannecker, Memoir of his Life and Works . .91 German Sculpture — Rauch, Tieck, Schwanthaler . 125 III. Goethe and his daughter-in-law . . . 136 The German Women . . . . 143 German Authoresses ... . VI CONTENTS TO VOL. I. PAGE German Domestic Life and Manners . . • 158 German Coquetterie and German Romance . . 170 The story of a Devoted Sister .."•,-. . 175 Sketches of Art, Literature, and Character, Part II. Memoranda at Munich, Nuremberg, and Dresden. I. Munich . . . . 205 The Theatre — representation of " Egmont " . . 210 Leo von Klenze . . . . 213 The Glyptothek — its general arrangement — Egina Marbles — Account of the Frescos of Cornelius — Canova's Paris and-Thorwaldson's Adonis . . 214—232 The Opera at Munich, the Kapel Meister Stuntz . 233 The Poems of the King of Bavaria . . 238 A public day at the New Palace . . . 240 Thoughts on Female Singers — Their condition and destiny . . . . . 243 The Munich Gallery — Thoughts on Pictures — their moral influence ... . 245 Rubens and the Flemish Masters . . ' - . 251 The Gallery of ScMeissheim '.' . ■ . . 259 The Boisser£e Gallery — The old German School of Painting — Its Effects on the Modern German School of Art . . . . 262 Representation of the Braut von Messina . . 264 The Hofgarten at Munich . . . 266 The King's passion for Building — The New Palace — The Beauty of its Decorations — Particular Account of the_ Modern Paintings on the Walls . 270 — 286 The Frescos of Julius Schnorr from the Nibelungen- Lied . . . . .

THE AUTHOR TO THE READER It seems a foolish thing to send into the world a book requiring a preface of apologies ; and yet more absurd, to presume that any deprecation on the part of the author could possibly win indulgence for what should be in itself worthless. For this reason, and with a very deep feeling of the kindness I have already experienced from the public, I should now abandon these little volumes to their destiny without one word of preface or re mark, but that a certain portion of their contents seems to require a little explanation. It was the wish and request of my friends, TKEFACE. many months ago, that I should collect various literary trifles which were scattered about in print or in manuscript, and allow them to be published together. My departure for the con tinent set aside this intention for the time.

Preface

. False One," and " The Indian Mother," were written at different times, to prove that I could write in a style which should not be recognized as mine even by my most intimate friends, and the ruse so far succeeded, that both, as I I am informed, have been attributed to other writers. With regard to a certain little Diary, of which it has been thought proper to give here a new edition, so as to complete the collection of mis cellanies — what shall I say ? If I have cheated some gentle readers out of much superfluous sym pathy — as it has been averred — it was certainly without design. I can but repeat here the excuse already inserted in another place, " that the work in question was not written for publication, nor would ever have been printed but for accidental circumstances; that the title under which it appeared was not given by the writer, but the pub lisher, who at the time knew nothing of the real author : — and that some false dates, unimportant circumstances, and fictitious characters, were as-

PREFACE.

. XI terwards interpolated, to conceal, if possible, the real purport and origin of the work ; for the in tention was not to create an illusion, by giving to fiction the appearance of truth ; but, in fact, to conceal truth by throwing over it the veil of fiction." I regret that even this deception was practised, but would plead in excuse that the basis of that little book was truth ; that it was, in realitv, what it assumed to be, " a true picture of natural and feminine feeling." I confess, that to go over the pages again for the purpose of correc tion, and for the first time since their publica tion, has been rather a painful task ; once or twice I have felt inclined to make the amende honorable. They contain some opinions which I have seen reason to alter or modify ; they record some feelings which I would rather have forgotten ; and Italy has since undergone some social and political changes : but the observations on art and natural scenery remain as applicable now as they were ten years ago ; ancl I found I could make no alterations, no corrections, which a

PREFACE.

. XII would not detract from the sole merit the book could ever have possessed, and which, I presume, it still retains, — its truth as a picture of mind. While writing this preface, I learn that the subject of the little sketch at the end of the second volume is expected to return to England before she has finally quitted her profession. The first impulse was, of course, to cancel those pages which were written long ago, and under a far different impression, feeling that their purport might expose either the gifted person alluded to, or the author to mis construction. But it has been found impossible to do so without causing not only a great expense, but also injury to my publishers, from the con sequent delay. When I wrote the concluding passages of that portrait from the life, it was with the conviction that the original would never more return to this country, — at least, never more in her professional character ; — that her short and brilliant career was closed, and that her per sonal qualities, as well as her public talents, had become as much a part of the past, as much a

PREFACE.

. XIII matter of history, as those of Mrs. Siddons. I know not yet whether it may not prove so : and as every line is undeniable truth, except the allusion to her immediate retirement from the stage, and that the sketch itself could not be cancelled without obvious injustice, I have suffered the whole to stand as it was originally written. As the name of the author at the end of the motto has been accidentally omitted, I will add, that the lines are taken from the fifteenth Sermone of Gasparo Gozzi. A. J. May 1834. ERRATA TO VOL. I. Page 164, line 15, for wsache read wasche. 168, — 10, after since, insert " High-born Hoel." 224, — 7, for attained, read obtained. 226, — 6 from the bottom, insert a comma after examination. 247, in the note, for par read pas. 27.5, line 2 from the bottom, for to, read too. 300, — 18, for proudy, read proudly. SKETCHES OF ART, LITERATURE, AND CHARACTER.

Part I. In Three Dialogues

T MEDON ALDA. MEDON. And so we are to have no " Sentimental Travels in Germany" on hot-pressed paper, illustrated with views taken on the spot ? ALDA. No. MEDON. You have unloaded Time of his wallet only to VOL. I. deal out his " scraps of things past," his shreds of remembrance, in beggarly, indolent fashion, over your own fireside ? You are afraid of being termed an egotist; you, who within these ten minutes have assured me that not any opinion of any human being should prevent you from doing, saying, writing — any thing — ALDA. Finish the sentence— any thing, for truth's sake- But how is the cause of truth to be advanced by the insolent publication of a mass of crude thoughts and hasty observations picked up here and there, " as pigeons pick up pease," and which now lie safe within the clasps of those little great books ?

You need not look at them ; they do not contain another Diary of an Ennuyee, thank Heaven ! nor do I feel much inclined to play the Ennuyeuse in public. MliDON. " Take any form but that, and my firm nerves shall never tremble ;" but with eyes to see, a heart to feel, a mind to observe, and a pen to record those observations, I do not perceive why vou should not contribute one drop to tbat great ocean of thought which is weltering round the world ! ALDA. If I could. MEDON. t There are people, who when they travel open their eyes and their ears, (aye, and their mouths to some purpose,) and shut up their hearts and souls. I have heard such persons make it their boast, that they have returned to old England with all their old prejudices thick upon them ; they have come back, to use their own phrase, " with no foreign ideas — just the same as they went :" they are much to be congratulated !

I hope you are not one of these ? ALDA. I hope not ; it is this cold impervious pride which is the perdition of us English, and of Eng land. I remember, that in one of my several ex cursions on the Rhine, we had on board the steam boat an English family of high rank. There was the lordly papa, plain and shy, who never spoke to any one except his own family, and then only in the lowest whisper. There was the lady mamma, so truly lady-like, with fine-cut patrician features, and in her countenance a kind of passive hauteur, softened by an appearance of suffering, and ill-health. VOL. I. £ There were two daughters, proud, pale, fine-looking girls, dressed a ravir, with that indescribable air of high pretension, so elegantly impassive — so self-possessed — which some people call I'air dis tingue, but which, as extremes meet, I would rather call the refinement of vulgarity — the polish we see bestowed on debased material — the plating over the steel — the stucco over the brickwork !

MEDON. Good ; you can be severe then ! ALDA I spoke generally : bear witness to the general truth of the picture, for it will fit others as well as the personages I have brought before you, who are, indeed, but specimens of a species. This group, then, had designedly or instinctively en trenched themselves in a corner to the right of the steersman, within a fortification of tables and benches, so arranged as to forbid all approach within two or three yards ; the young ladies had each their sketch-book, and wielded pencil and Indian rubber, I know not with what effect, — but I know that I never saw either countenance once relax or brighten, in the midst of the divine scenery through which we glided. Two female attendants, seated on the outer fortifications, formed a kind of piquet guard ; and two footmen at the other end kept watch over the well-appointed carriages, and came and went as their attendance was required.

No one else ventured to approach this aristocratic Olympus ; the celestials within its precincts, though not exactly seated " on golden stools at golden tables," like the divinities in the song of the Parcæ,* showed as supreme, as godlike an indifference to the throng of mortals in the nether sphere: no word was exchanged during the whole day wi^j any of the fifty or sixty human beings who were round them ; nay, when the rain drove us down to the pavilion, even there, amid twelve or fourteen others, they contrived to keep themselves aloof from contact and conversation. In this fashion they probably pursued their tour, exchanging the interior of their travelling carriage for the interior of an hotel ; and every where associating only with those of their own caste. What do they see of all that is to be seen ?

What can they know of what is to be known ? What do they endure of what is to be endured ? I can speak from experience — I have travelled in that same style. As they went, so they return ; happily, or rather pitifully, unconscious of the narrow circle * In Goethe's Iphigenia. b2 in which move their factitious enjoyments, their confined experience, their half-awakened sympa thies ! And I should tell you, that in the same steam-boat were two German girls, under the care of an elderly relative, I think an aunt, and a brother, who was a celebrated jurisco?isulte and judge: their rank was equal to that of my coun trywomen ; their blood, perhaps, more purely noble, that is, older by some centuries ; and their family more illustrious, by God knows how many quarterings; moreover, their father was a minister of state.

Both these girls were beautiful ; — fair, and fair-haired, with complexions on which " the rose stood ready with a blush ;" and one, the youngest sister, was exquisitely lovely — in truth, she might have sat for one of Guido's angels. They walked up and down the deck, neither seeking nor avoid ing the proximity of others. They accepted the telescopes which the gentlemen, particularly some young Englishmen, pressed on them when any distant or remarkable object came in view, and repaid the courtesy with a bright kindly smile; they were natural and easy, and did not deem it necessary to mount guard over their own dignity. Do you think I did not observe and feel the con trast ? MEDON. If nations begin at last to understand each other's true interests— morally and politically, it will be through the agency of gifted men ; but if ever they learn to love and sympathize with each other, it will be through the medium of you women.

You smile, and shake your head ; but in spite of a late example, which might seem to controvert this idea, I still think so;— our prejudices are stronger and bitterer than yours, because they are those which perverted reason builds up on a foundation of pride ; but yours, which are generally those of fancy and association, soon melt away before your own kindly affections. More mobile, more impressible, more easily yielding to external circumstances, more easily lending yourselves to different manners and habits, more quick to perceive, more gentle to judge; — yes, it is to you we must look, to break down the outworks of prejudice — you, the advanced guard of humanity and civilization ! " The gentle race and dear, By whom alone the world is glorified !" Every feeling, well educated, generous, and truly refined woman, who travels, is as a dove sent out on a mission of peace ; and should bring back at least an olive-leaf in her hand, if she bring nothing else.

It is her part to soften the intercourse between rougher and stronger natures; to aid in the interfusion of the gentler sympathies ; to speed the interchange of art and literature from pole to pole : not to pervert wit, and talent, and eloquence, and abuse the privileges of her sex, to sow the seeds of hatred where she might plant those of love — to embitter national discord and aversion, and disseminate individual preju dice and error. ALDA. Thank you ! I need not say how entirely I agree with you. MEDON. Then tell me, what have you brought home ? if but an olive-leaf, let us have it ; come, unpack your budget. Have you collected store of anecdotes, private, literary, scandalous, abundantly in terspersed with proper names of grand-dukes and little dukes, counts, barons, ministers, poets, authors, actors, and opera dancers ?

ALDA. Me? MEDON. Cry you mercy! — I did but jest, so do not look so indignant ! But have you then traced the cause and consequences of that under current of opinion which is slowly but surely sapping the foundations of empires ? Have you heard the low booming of that mighty ocean which approaches, wave after wave, to break up the dikes and boundaries of ancient power ? ALDA. I ? no ; how should I — skimming over the surface of society with perpetual sunshine and favouring airs — how should I sound the gulfs and shoals which lie below ? MEDON. Have you, then, analysed that odd combination of poetry, metaphysics, and politics, which, like the three primeval colours, tinge in various tints and shades, simple and complex, all literature, morals, art, and even conversation, through Ger many ? ALDA.

No, indeed ! MEDON. Have you decided between the different systems of Jacobi and Schelling ? ALDA. You know I am a poor philosopher ; but when Schelling was introduced to me at Munich, I remember I looked up at him with inexpressible admiration, as one whose giant arm had cut through an isthmus, and whose giant mind had new modelled the opinions of minds as gigantic as his own. MEDON. Then you are of this new school, which reveals the union of faith and philosophy ? ALDA. If I am, it is by instinct. MEDON. Well, to descend to your own peculiar sphere, have you satisfied yourself as to the moral and social position of the women in Germany ? ALDA. No, indeed ! — at least, not yet. MEDON. Have you examined and noted down the routine of the domestic education of their children ? (we know something of the public and national systems.)

Can you give some accurate notion of the ideas which generally prevail on this subject ? ALDA. O no ! you have mentioned things which would require a life to study. Merely to have thought upon them, to have glanced at them, gives me no right to discuss them, unless I could bring my ob servations to some tangible form, and derive from them some useful result. MEDON. Yet in this last journey you had an object — a purpose ? ALDA. I had — a purpose which has long been revolving in my mind — an object never lost sight of; — but give me time ! — time ! MEDON. I see ; — but are you prepared for consequences ? b Can you task your sensitive mind to stand re proach and ridicule? Remember your own story of Runckten the traveller, who, when about to commence his expedition into the desarts of Africa, prepared himself, by learning beforehand to digest poisons; to swallow without disgust reptiles, spiders, vermin ALDA.

" Thou hast the most unsavoury similes !" MEDON. Take a proverb then — " Bisogna coprirsi bene il viso innanzi di struzzicare il vespaio." ALDA. I will not hide my face ; nor can I answer you in this jesting vein, for to me it is a serious thought. There is in the kindly feeling, the spontaneous sympathy of the public towards me, something which fills me with gratitude and respect, and tells me to respect myself; which I would not exchange for the greater eclat which hangs round greater names; — which I will not forfeit by writing one line from an unworthy motive ; nor flatter, nor invite, by withholding one thought, opinion, or sentiment, which I believe to be true, and to which I cau put the seal of my heart's conviction. MEDON. Good ! I love a little enthusiasm now and then ; so like Britomart in the enchanter's palace, the* motto is, " Be bold, be bold, and every where be bold !"

ALDA. I should rather say, be gentle, be gentle, every where be gentle ; and then we caunot be too bold.* MEDON. Well, then, I return once more to the charge. Have you been rambling about the world for these six months — yet learned nothing ? ALDA. On the contrary. MEDON. Then what, in Heaven's name, have you learned * Over another iron door was writt Be not too bold. Faeky Queen, Book iii. Canto ALDA. Not much ; but I have learned to sweep my mind of some ill-conditioned cobwebs. I have learned to consider my own acquired knowledge but as a torch flung into an abyss, making the darkness visible, and showing me the extent of my own ignorance. MEDON. Then give us — give me, at least — the benefit of your ignorance ; only let it be all your own. I honour a profession of ignorance — if only for its rarity — in these all-knowing times.

Let me tell you, the ignorance of a candid and not unculti vated mind is better than the second-hand wisdom of those who take all tilings for granted ; who are the echoes of others' opinions, the utterers of others' words ; who think they know, and who think they think : I am sick of them all. Come, refresh me with a little ignorance — and be serious. ALDA. You make me smile ; after all, 'tis only going over old ground, and I know not what pleasure, what interest it can impart, beyond half an hour's amusement. MEDON. Sceptic! is that nothing? In this harsh, cold, working-day world, is half an hour's amusement nothing? Old ground !■— as if you did not know the pleasure of going over old ground with a new companion to refresh half-faded recollections — to compare impressions — to correct old ideas and ac quire new ones ? 0 1 can suck knowledge out of ignorance, as a weazel sucks eggs ! — Begin.

ALDA. Where shall I begin ? MEDON. Where, but at the beginning ! and then diverge as you will. Your first journey was one of mere amusement ? ALDA. Merely, and it answered its purpose ; we tra velled a la milor Anglais — a partie carree—a barouche hung on the most approved principle — double-cushioned — luxurious — rising and sinking on its springs like a swan on the wave — the pockets stuffed with new publications — maps and guides ad infinitum; English servants for comfort, foreign servants for use; a chess-board, backgammon tables — in short, surrounded with all that could render us entirely independent of* the amusements we had come to seek, and of the people among whom we had come to visit. MEDON. Admirable — and English ! ALDA. Yes, and pleasant. I thought, not without gratitude, of the contrast between present feelings and those of a former journey.

To abandon oneself to the quickening influence of new objects without care or thought of to-morrow, with a mind awake in all its strength ; with restored health and cheerfulness ; with sensibility tamed, not dead ; possessing one's soul in quiet ; not seeking, nor yet shrinking from excitement ; not self-engrossed, nor yet pining for sympathy ; was not this much ? Not so interesting, perhaps, as playingthe.E._..„.j/ee,- but, oh ! you know not how sad it is to look upon the lovely through tearful eyes, and walk among the loving and the kind, wrapped as in a death-shroud ; to carry into the midst of the most glorious scenes of nature, and the divinest creations of art, perceptions dimmed and troubled with sickness and anguish : to move in the morning with aching and reluctance — to faint in the evening with weariness and pain ; to feel all change, all motion, a torment to the dying heart ; all rest, all delay, a burthen to the impatient spirit ; to shiver in the presence of joy, like a ghost in the sunshine, yet have no sympathy to spare for suffering.

How could I remember that all this had been, and not bless the miracle-worker — Time ? And apropos to the miracles of time — I had on this first journey, one source of amusement, which I am sorry I cannot share with you at full length ; it was the near con templation of a very singular character, of which I can only afford you a sketch. Our Chef de voyage, for so we chose to entitle him who was the planner and director of our excursion, was one of the most accomplished and most eccentric of hu man beings : even courtesy might have termed him old, at seventy ; but old age and he were many miles asunder, and it seemed as though he had made some compact with Time, like that of Faust with the devil, and was not to surrender to his inevitable adversary till the very last moment. Years could not quench his vivacity, nor " stale his infinite va riety."

He had been one of the prince's wild companions in the days of Sheridan and Fox, and could play alternately blackguard and gentleman, and both in perfection ; but the high-born gentleman ever prevailed. He had been heir to an enormous income, most o£ which had slipped through his fingers unknownst, as the Irish say, and had stood in the* way of a coronet, which, somehow or other, had passed over his head to light on that of his eldest son. He had lived a life which would have ruined twenty iron constitu tions, and had suffered what mightwell have broken twenty hearts of common stuff; but his self-com placency was invulnerable, his animal spirits in exhaustible, his activity indefatigable. The eccen tricities of this singular man have been matter of celebrity ; but against each of these stories it would be easy to place some act of benevolence, some trait of lofty gentlemanly feeling, which would at least neutralize their effect.

He often told me that he had early in life selected three models, after which to form his own conduct and character ; namely, De Grammont, Hotspur, and Lord Herbert of Cherbury ; and he certainly did unite, in a greater degree than he knew himself, the characteristics of all three. Such was our Chef, and thus led, thus appointed, away we posted, from land to land, from city to city — MEDON. Stay — stay ! this is galloping on at the rate of Lenora, and her phantom lover — " Tramp, tramp across the land we go. Splash, splash across the sea!" Take me with you, and a little more leisurely. ALDA. I think Bruges was the first place which in terested me, perhaps from its historical associations. Bruges, where monarchs kissed the hand to merchants, now emptied of its former splen dour, reminded me of the improvident steward in scripture, who could not dig, and to beg was ashamed.

It had an air of grave idleness and threadbare dignity ; and its listless, thinly-scattered inhabitants looked as if they had gone astray among the wide streets and huge tenantless edifices. There is one thing here which you must see — the tomb of Charles the Bold, and his daughter, Mary of Burgundy. The tomb is of the most exquisite workmanship, composed of polished brass and enamelled escutcheons ; and there the fiery father and the gentle daughter lie, side by side, in sculptured bronze, equally still, cold, and silent. I remember that I stood long gazing on the in scription, which made me smile, and made me think. There was no mention of defeat and mas sacre, disgraceful flight, or obscure death. " But," says the epitaph, after enumerating his titles, his exploits, and his virtues, " fortune, who had hitherto been his good lady, ungently turned her back upon him on such a day of such a year, and oppressed him" — an amusing instance of mingled courtesy and naivete.

Ghent was our next rest ing place. The aspect of Ghent, so familiarized to us of late by our travelled artists, made a strong impression upon me, and I used to walk about for hours together, looking at the strange picturesque old buildings coeval with the Spanish dominion, with their ornamented fronts and peaked roofs. There is much trade here, many flourishing manufactories, and the canals and quays often exhibited a lively scene of bustle, of which the form, at least, was new to us. The first exposition, or exhibition, of the newly-founded Royal Academy of the Netherlands was at this season open. You will allow it was a fair opportunity of judging of the present state of painting, in the self-same land, where she had once found, if not a temple, at least a home. MEDON And learned to be homely— but the result ?