Letters from Switzerland and Travels in Italy · Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
NAPLES.
_Velletri, Feb._ 22, 1787. We arrived here in good time. The day before yesterday the weather became gloomy; and our fine days were overcast: still some signs of the air seemed to promise that it would soon clear up again, and so indeed it turned out. The clouds gradually broke, here and there appeared the blue sky, and at last the sun shone full on our journey. We came through Albano, after having stopped before Genzano, at the entrance of a park, which the owner, Prince Chigi, in a very strange way holds, but does not keep up, on which account he will not allow any one to enter it. In it a true wilderness has been formed. Trees and shrubs, plants and weeds grow, wither, fall, and rot at pleasure. That is all right, and indeed could not be better. The expanse before the entrance, is inexpressibly fine. A high wall encloses the valley, a lattice-gate affords a view into it; then the hill ascends, upon which, above you, stands the castle. But now I dare not attempt to go on with the description; and I can merely say, that at the very moment when from the summit we caught sight of the mountains of Sezza, the Pontine Marshes, the sea and its islands, a heavy passing shower was traversing the Marshes towards the sea, and the light and shade, constantly changing and moving, wonderfully enlivened and variegated the dreary plain. The effect was beautifully heightened by the sun's beams which lit up with various hues, the columns of smoke as they ascended from scattered and scarcely visible cottages.
It is certainly inexplicable that these treasures should be within so short a distance of Rome, and yet should not be more frequently visited; but perhaps the difficulty and inconvenience of getting to these regions, and the attraction of the magic circle of Rome, may serve to excuse the fact. As we arrived at the inn, some women, who were sitting before the doors of their houses, called out to us, and asked if we wished to buy any antiquities; and then, as we showed a pretty strong hankering after them, they brought out some old kettles, fire-tongs, and such like utensils, and were ready to die with laughing at having made fools of us. When we seemed a little put out, our guide assured us, to our comfort, that it was a customary joke, and that all strangers had to submit to it. I am writing this in a very miserable auberge, and feel neither strength nor humour to make it any longer: therefore I must bid you a very good night. * * * * * _Fondi, Feb._ 23, 1787.
We were on the road very early,--by three in the morning. As the day broke we found ourselves on the Pontine Marshes, which have not by any means so ill an appearance as the common description in Rome would make out. Of course, by merely once passing over the marshes, it is not possible to judge of so great an undertaking as that of the intended draining of them, which necessarily requires time to test its merits; still it does appear to me, that the works which have commenced by the Pope's orders, will, to a great extent at least, attain the desired end. Conceive to yourself a wide valley, which, as it stretches from north to south, has but a very slight fall, but which towards the east and the mountains is extremely low, but rises again considerably towards the sea on the west. Punning in a straight line through the whole length of it, the ancient Via Appia has been restored. On the right of the latter the principal drain has been cut, and in it the water flows with a rapid fall. By means of it the tract of land to the right has been drained, and is now profitably cultivated. As far as the eye can see, it is either already brought into cultivation or evidently might be so, if farmers could be found to take it, with the exception of one spot, which lies extremely low.
The left side, which stretches towards the mountains, is more difficult to be managed. Here, however, cross-drains pass under the raised way into the chief drain; as, however, the surface sinks again towards the mountains, it is impossible by this means to carry off the water entirely. To meet this difficulty it is proposed, I was told, to cut another leading drain along the foot of the mountains. Large patches, especially towards Terracina, are thinly planted with willows and poplars. The posting stations consist merely of long thatched sheds. Tischbein sketched one of them, and enjoyed for his reward a gratification which only he could enjoy. A white horse having broke loose had fled to the drained lands. Enjoying its liberty, it was galloping backwards and forwards on the brown turf like a flash of lightning; in truth it was a glorious sight, rendered significant by Tischbein's rapture.
At the point where the ancient village of Meza once stood, the Pope has caused to be built a large and fine building, which indicates the centre of the level. The sight of it increases one's hopes and confidence of the success of the whole undertaking. While thus we travelled on, we kept up a lively conversation together, not forgetting the warning, that on this journey one must not go to sleep; and, in fact, we were strongly enough reminded of the danger of the atmosphere, by the blue vapour which, even in this season of the year, hangs above the ground. On this account the more delightful, as it was the more longed for, was the rocky site of Terracina; and scarcely had we congratulated ourselves at the sight of it, than we caught a view of the sea beyond. Immediately afterwards the other side of the mountain city presented to our eye a vegetation quite new to us. The Indian figs were pushing their large fleshy leaves amidst the gray green of dwarf myrtles, the yellowish green of the pomegranate, and the pale green of the olive. As we passed along, we noticed both flowers and shrubs quite new to, us. On the meadows the narcissus and the adonis were in flower. For a long time the sea was on our right, while close to us on the left ran an unbroken range of limestone rocks. It is a continuation of the Apennines, which runs down from Tivoli and touches the sea, which it does not leave again till you reach the Campagna di Romana, where it is succeeded by the volcanic formations of Frescati, Alba, and Velletri, and lastly by the Pontine Marshes. Monte Circello, with the opposite promontory of Terracina, where the Pontine Marshes terminate, in all probability consists also of a system of chalk rocks.
We left the sea coast, and soon reached the charming plain of Fondi. Every one must admire this little spot of fertile and well cultivated land, enclosed with hills, which themselves are by no means wild. Oranges, in great numbers, are still hanging on the trees; the crops, all of wheat, are beautifully green; olives are growing in the fields, and the little city is in the bottom. A palm tree, which stood out a marked object in the scenery, received our greetings. So much for this evening. Pardon the scrawl. I must write without thinking, for writing sake. The objects are too numerous, my resting place too wretched, and yet my desire to commit something to paper too great. With nightfall we reached this place, and it is now time to go to rest. * * * * * _S. Agata, Feb._ 24, 1787. Although in a wretchedly cold chamber, I must yet try and give you some account of a beautiful day. It was already nearly light when we drove out of Fondi, and we were forthwith greeted by the orange trees which hang over the walls on both sides of our road. The trees are loaded with such numbers as can only be imagined and not expressed. Towards the top the young leaf is yellowish, but below and in the middle, of sappy green. Mignon was quite right to long for them.
After this we travelled through clean and well-worked fields of wheat, planted at convenient distances with olive-trees. A soft breeze was moving, and brought to the light the silvery under-surface of the leaves, as the branches swayed gently and elegantly. It was a gray morning; a north wind promised soon to dispel all the clouds. Then the road entered a valley between stony but well-dressed fields; the crops of the most beautiful green. At certain spots one saw some roomy places, paved, and surrounded with low walls; on these the corn, which is never carried home in sheaves, is thrashed out at once. The valley gradually narrows, and the road becomes mountainous, bare rocks of limestone standing on both sides of us. A violent storm followed us, with a fall of sleet, which thawed very slowly. The walls, of an ancient style, built after the pattern of net-work, charmed us exceedingly. On the heights the soil is rocky, but nevertheless planted with olive-trees wherever there is the smallest patch of soil to receive them. Next we drove over a plain covered with olive-trees, and then through a small town. We here noticed altars, ancient tombstones, and fragments of every kind built up in the walls of the pleasure-houses in the gardens. Then the lower stories of ancient villas, once excellently built, but now filled up with earth, and overgrown with olives. At last we caught a sight of Vesuvius, with a cloud of smoke resting on its brow.
Molo di Gäeta greeted us again with the richest of orange-trees; we remained there some hours. The creek before the town, which the tide flows up to, affords one the finest of views. Following the line of coast, on the right, till the eye reaches at last the horn of the crescent, one sees at a moderate distance the fortress of Gäeta on the rocks. The left horn stretches out still further, presenting to the beholder first of all aline of mountains, then Vesuvius, and, beyond all, the islands. Ischia lies before you nearly in the centre. On the shore here I found, for the first time in my life, a starfish, and an echinus thrown up by the sea; a beautiful green leaf, (_tethys foliacea_), smooth as the finest bath paper, and other remarkable rubble-stones, the most common being limestone, but occasionally also serpentine, jasper, quartz, granite, breccian pebbles, porphyry, marble of different kinds, and glass of a blue and green colour. The two last-mentioned specimens are scarcely productions of the neighbourhood. They are probably the debris of ancient buildings; and thus we have seen the waves before our eyes playing with the splendours of the ancient world. We tarried awhile, and pleased ourselves with meditating on the nature of man, whose hopes, whether in the civilized or savage state, are so soon disappointed.
Departing from Molo, a beautiful prospect still accompanies the traveller, even after his quitting the sea; the last glimpse of it was a lovely bay, of which we took a sketch. We now came upon a good fruit country, with hedges of aloes. We noticed an aqueduct which ran from the mountains over some nameless and orderless masses of ruins. [Sidenote: S. Agata.] Next comes the ferry over the Garigliano; after crossing it one passes through tolerably fruitful districts, till we reach the mountains. Nothing striking. At length, the first hill of lava. Here begins an extensive and glorious district of hill and vale, over which the snowy summits are towering in the distance. On the nearest eminence lies a long town, which strikes the eye with an agreeable effect. In the valley lies S. Agata, a considerable inn, where a cheerful fire was burning in a chimney arranged as a cabinet; however, our room is cold--no window, only shutters, which I am just hastening to close. * * * * * _Naples, Feb._ 25, 1787. And here we are happily arrived at last, and with good omens enough. Of our day's journey thus much only. We left S. Agata with sunrise, a violent north-east wind blowing on our backs, which continued the whole day through. It was not till noon that it was master of the clouds. We suffered much from the cold.
Our road again lay among and over volcanic hills, among which I did not notice many limestone rocks. At last we reached the plains of Capua, and shortly afterwards Capua itself, where we halted at noon. In the afternoon a beautiful but flat region lay stretched before us; the road is broad, and runs through fields of green corn, so even that it looked like a carpet, and was at least a span high. Along the fields are planted rows of poplars, from which the branches are lopped to a great height, that the vines may run up them; this is the case all the way to Naples. The soil is excellent, light, loose, and well worked. The vine stocks are of extraordinary strength and height, and their shoots hang in festoons like nets from tree to tree. Vesuvius was all the while on our left with a strong smoke, and I felt a quiet joy to think that at last I beheld with my own eyes this most, remarkable object. The sky became clearer and clearer, and at length the sun shone quite hot into our narrow rolling lodging. The atmosphere was perfectly clear and bright as we approached Naples, and we now found ourselves, in truth, in quite another world. The houses, with flat roofs, at once bespeak a different climate; inwardly, perhaps, they may not be very comfortable. Every one is in the streets, or sitting in the sun as long as it shines. The Neapolitan believes himself to be in possession of Paradise, and entertains a very melancholy opinion of our northern lands. _Sempre neve, caso di legno, gran ignoranza, ma danari assai._ Such is the picture they draw of our condition. Interpreted for the benefit of all our German folk, it means--Always snow, wooden houses, great ignorance, but money enough.
Naples at first sight leaves a free, cheerful, and lively impression; numberless beings are passing and repassing each other: the king is gone hunting, the queen _promising_; and so things could not be better. * * * * * _Naples, Monday, Feb._ 26, 1787. "_Alla Locanda del Sgr. Moriconi al Largo del Castello._" Under this address, no less cheerful than high-sounding, letters from all the four quarters of heaven will henceforth find us. Round the castle, which lies by the sea, there stretches a large open space, which, although surrounded on all sides with houses, is not called a square or piazza, but a largo, or expanse. Perhaps the name is derived from ancient times, when it was still an open and unenclosed country. Here, in a corner house on one side of the Largo, we have taken up our lodgings in a corner room, which commands a free and lively view of the ever moving surface. An iron balcony runs before several windows, and even round the corner. One would never leave it, if the sharp wind were not extremely cutting. [Sidenote: Naples--My lodgings.]
The room is cheerfully decorated, especially the ceiling, whose arabasques of a hundred compartments bear witness to the proximity of Pompeii and Herculaneum. Now, all this is very well and very fine; but there is no fire-place, no chimney, and yet February exercises even here its rights. I expressed a wish for something to warm me. They brought in a tripod of sufficient height from the ground for one conveniently to hold one's hands over it; on it was placed a shallow brazier, full of extremely fine charcoal red-hot, but covered smoothly over with ashes. We now found it an advantage to be able to manage this process of domestic economy; we had learned that at Rome. With the ring of a key, from time to time, one cautiously draws away the ashes of the surface, so that a few of the embers may be exposed to the free air. Were you impatiently to stir up the glowing coals, you would no doubt experience for a few moments great warmth, but you would in a short time exhaust the fuel, and then you must pay a certain sum to have the brasier filled again. I did not feel quite well, and could have wished for more of ease and comfort. A reed matting was all there was to protect one's feet from the stone floor; skins are not usual. I determined to put on a sailor's cloak which we had brought with us in fun, and it did me good service, especially when I tied it round my body with the rope of my box. I must have looked very comical, something between a sailor and a capuchin. When Tischbein came back from visiting some of his friends, and found me in this dress, he could not refrain from laughing.
After that we took a sail, and saw all kinds of fish and wonderful shapes drawn out of the waves. The day was glorious; the _tramontane_ (north winds) tolerable. * * * * * [Sidenote: Naples--The Prince Von Waldeck.] _Naples, March_ 1, 1787. Even in Rome my self-willed hermit-like humour was forced to assume a more social aspect than I altogether liked: no doubt it appears a strange beginning to go into the world in order to be alone. Accordingly I could not resist Prince von Waldeck, who most kindly invited me, and by his rank and influence has procured me the enjoyment of many privileges. We had scarcely reached Naples, where he has been residing a long while, when he sent us an invitation to pay a visit with him to Puzzuoli and the neighbourhood. I was thinking already of Vesuvius for to-day; but Tischbein has forced me to take this journey, which, agreeable enough of itself, promises from the fine weather, and the society of a perfect gentleman, and well-educated prince, very much both of pleasure and profit. We had also seen in Rome a beautiful lady, who with her husband, is inseparable from the Prince. She also is to be of the party; and we hope for a most delightful day. Moreover, I was intimately known to this noble society, having met them previously. The Prince, upon our first acquaintance, had asked me what I was then busy with; and the plan of my "Iphigenia" was so fresh in my recollection, that I was able one evening to relate it to them circumstantially. They entered into it; still, still I fancied I could observe that something livelier and wilder was expected of me.
Amidst all this giddy excitement, however, I failed not to make many notes. The future reduction of these will be greatly facilitated by the map we consulted on the spot, and by a hasty sketch of Tischbein's. To-day it is not possible for me to make the least addition to these. * * * * * _March_ 2. Thursday I ascended Vesuvius, although the weather was unsettled, and the summit of the mountain surrounded by clouds. I took a carriage as far as Resina, and then, on the back of a mule, began the ascent, having vineyards on both sides. Next, on foot, I crossed the lava of the year '71, on the surface of which a fine but compact moss was already growing; then upwards on the side of the lava. The hut of the hermit on the height, was on my left hand. After this we climbed the Ash-hill, which is wearisome walking; two-thirds of the summit were enveloped in clouds. At last we reached the ancient crater, now filled up, where we found recent lava, only two months and fourteen days old, and also a slight streak of only five days, which was, however, already cold. Passing over these, we next ascended a height which had been thrown up by volcanic action; it was smoking from all its points. As the smoke rolled away from us, I essayed to approach the crater; scarcely, however, had we taken fifty steps in the steam, when it became so dense that I could scarcely see my shoes. It was to no purpose that we held snuff continually before our nostrils. My guide had disappeared; and the footing on the lava lately thrown up was very unsteady. I therefore thought it right to turn round, and to reserve the sight for a finer day, and for less of smoke. However, I now know how difficult it is to breathe in such an atmosphere.
I am delighted to find that you are now familiar with the two editions of my "Iphigenia," but still more pleased should I he had you been more sensible of the difference between them. I know what I have done for it, and may well speak thereof, since I feel that I could make still further improvements. If it be a bliss to enjoy the good, it is still greater happiness to discern the better; for in art the best only is good enough. * * * * * _Naples, March_ 5, 1787. We spent the second Sunday of Lent in visiting church after church. As in Rome all is highly solemn; so here every horn is merry and cheerful. The Neapolitan school of painting, too, can only be understood in Naples. One is astonished to see the whole front of a church painted from top to bottom. Over the door of one, Christ is driving out of the temple the buyers and sellers, who, terribly frightened, are nimbly huddling up their wares, and hurrying down the steps on both sides. In another church, there is a room over the entrance, which is richly ornamented with frescoes representing the deprivation of Heliodorus.[5] Luca Giordano must indeed have painted rapidly, to fill such large areas in a lifetime. The pulpit, too, is here not always a mere cathedra, as it is in other places,--a place where one only may teach at a time; but a gallery. Along one of these I once saw a Capuchin walking backwards and forwards, and, now from one end, now from another, reproaching the people with their sins. What had he not to tell them!
But neither to be told nor to be described is the glory of a night of the full moon such as we have enjoyed here, wandering through the streets and squares and on the quay, with its long promenade, and then backwards and forwards on the beach; one felt really possessed with the feeling of the infinity of space. So to dream is really worth all trouble. * * * * * [Sidenote: Naples-Filangieri.] _Naples, March_ 5, 1787. I made to-day the acquaintance of an excellent individual, v and I must briefly give you a general description of him. It is the Chevalier Filangieri, famous for his work on legislation. He belongs to those noble young men who wish to promote the happiness and the moderate liberty of mankind. In his bearing you recognise at once the soldier, the chevalier, and the man of the world; but this appearance is softened by an expression of tender moral sensibility, which is diffused over his whole countenance, and shines forth most agreeably in his character and conversation; he is, moreover, heartily attached to his sovereign and country, even though he cannot approve of all that goes on. He is also oppressed with a fear of Joseph II. The idea of a despot, even though it only floats as a phantom in the air, excites the apprehensions of every noble-minded man. He spoke to me without reserve, of what Naples had to fear from him; but in particular he was delighted to speak of Montesquieu, Beccaria, and of some of his own writings--all in the same spirit of the best will, and of a heart full of youthful enthusiasm to do good. And yet he may one day be classed with the Thirty. He has also made me acquainted with an old writer, from whose inexhaustible depths these new Italian friends of legislation derive intense encouragement and edification. He is called Giambattista Vico, and is preferred even to Montesquieu. After a hasty perusal of his book, which was lent to me as a sacred deposit, I laid it down, saying to myself, Here are sybilline anticipations of good and right, which once must, or ought to be, realised, drawn apparently from a serious contemplation both of the past and of the present. It is well when a nation possesses such a forefather: the Germans will one day receive a similar codex from _Hamann._
Text from Project Gutenberg, public domain in the United States.