To Fanny Hensel, Berlin.[37]

To Fanny Hensel, Berlin.[37]

Leipzig, September 14th, 1839.

Dear Fanny,

Wishing to note down a great many things for your benefit, I examined my diaries, but found very little in them, and say to myself, “Hensel will show her and tell all this a hundred times better than I can.”

So only with a view to perform my promise:—

Isola Bella.—Place yourself on the very highest point, and look right and left, before and behind you,—the whole of the island and the whole of the lake are at your feet.

Venice.—Do not forget Casa Pisani, with its Paul Veronese, and the Manfrini Gallery, with its marvellous ‘Cithern Player’ by Giorgione, and a ditto, ‘Entombment,’ by Titian (Hensel laughs at me). Compose something in honour of the ‘Cithern Player;’ I did so. When you see the ‘Assumption of the Virgin,’ think of me. Observe how dark the head of Mary—and indeed her whole figure stands out against the bright sky; the head looks quite brown, and there is an ineffable expression of enthusiasm and overflowing felicity, that no one could believe without having actually seen it. If you don’t think of me, too, at sight of the golden glory of the sky behind Mary,—then there is an end of all things! Likewise two certain cherubs’ heads, from which an ox might learn what true beauty is; and if the ‘Presentation of Mary,’ and the woman selling eggs underneath, do not please you,—then call me a blockhead! Think of Goethe when you see the Lions in front of the Arsenal: “Stehen zwei altgriechische Löwen,” etc. Sail in a gondola at night, meeting other black gondolas hurrying along. If you don’t then think of all sorts of love stories, and other things which might occur within them while they glide by so quickly,—then am I a dolt!

Florence.—The following are among my notes on the portrait gallery (see if you find them true, and write to me on the subject):—

“Comparison between the head and its production, between the man’s work and his exterior—the artist and his portrait. Titian, vigorous and royal; Domenichino, precise, bright, very astute, and buoyant; Guido, pale, dignified, masterly, keen; Lanfranco, a grotesque mask; Leonello Spada, a good-natured fanfaron and a reveller; Annibale Carracci, peeping and prying; the two Caraccis, like the members of a guild; Caravaggio, rather commonplace and cat-like; Guercino, handsome and affected, melancholy and dark; Bellini the red-haired, the stern, old-fashioned teacher; Giorgione, chivalrous, fantastic, serene, and clear; Leonardo da Vinci, the lion; in the middle, the fragile, heavenly Raphael, and over him Michael Angelo, ugly, vigorous, malignant; Carlo Dolce, a coxcomb; Gerard Dow, a mere appendage among his kitchen utensils,” etc. etc.

In the large gallery to the left of the tribune, look at a little picture by Fra Bartolommeo, scarcely larger than this sheet of paper, but with two doors, all so neatly and carefully painted and finished. When you enter the gallery, salute first the busts of the Medici, for they were its founders. In the tribune there are some good things. Do not fail to see all the painted churches, which are quite beyond belief,—Maria Novella, St. Annunziata (you must see Andrea del Sarto there; remark also Fra Bartolommeo falling backwards downstairs from terror, because the angel has already been painting on his canvas). Examine also this said angel’s painting in the ‘Annunciation’ of Fra Bartolommeo; it is very fine (Hensel laughs).

To St. Marco, the Academy, etc. etc.

If the site of Brunelli’s statue, near the Duomo, does not please you, I can’t help you. The Duomo itself is not bad. Walk about a great deal.

Milan.—Don’t fail to go to the top of the cathedral, on account of the millions of pinnacles, and the splendid view.

Genoa.—It is pleasant to be in the Villetta Negri at nightfall.

Betwixt Genoa and Florence, see everything. Do not miss visiting the church of St. Francesco in Assisi, on any account whatever. The same with regard to all Perugia.

Drink a flask of aleatico in Florence, and add another of vino santo.

Rome.—Holy Week; be as weary as you please during the whole chanting of the Psalms, it’s no matter, but listen carefully when they intone the last, “Benedictus Dominus Israel,”—all four voices unisono fortissimo in D minor,—it sounds very grand. Observe the strange modulations produced by chance, when one unmusical priest after another takes the book and sings; the one finishing in D major, and the other commencing in B flat minor. Above all, see and hear everything in the Sistine Chapel, and write some melodies, or something, from thence to your F. M. B. Greet old Santini. Feast your eyes on the brilliant aspect of the chapel on Palm Sunday, when all the Cardinals are robed and carry palms, and when the procession with the singers arrives. The “Improperia,” on Good Friday, in B flat major, are very fine. Notice when the old Cardinal sings the “Credo,” the first day of Easter, and all the bells ring out, and the ceremony becomes all alive once more, with cannon shots, etc. etc. Drive to the Grotta ferrata, it is really quite too lovely, and all painted by Domenichino. Don’t forget the echo near Cecilia Metella. The tower stands to the left of the road. In the same direction, about fifty yards further, among some old ruined walls and stones, there is the most perfect echo I ever chanced to meet with in my life; it seems as if it never would cease muttering and murmuring. It begins in a slight degree, close behind the tower, but the further you proceed, the more mystical it becomes. You must try to find the right spot. Learn to distinguish between the different orders of monks.

Naples.—When there is a storm at Chiatamone, and the grey sea is foaming, think of me. Don’t fail to live close to the sea. I lived at Santi Combi, Santa Lucia (I think No. 13), it was most lovely there. Be sure you go from Castellamare to Amalfi, over Mount St. Angelo. It is the chief highway of all Italy. Proceed from Amalfi to Atrani, and see the church there, and then view the whole glorious landscape from above. Never get overheated. And never fly into a passion. And never be so delighted as to agitate yourself. Be wonderfully haughty and arrogant; all the beauty is there for you only.

Eat as a salad, broccoli with ham, and write to me if it is not capital. So far my good advice. Enough for to-day. Farewell, dearest Fanny, and dear Hensel family all. We think of you daily and hourly, and rejoice in your good fortune and in your enjoyment.

Felix.