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Full text of "Recollections of my life"

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RECOLLECTIONS OP MY LIFE 



BY 



MAXIMILIAN I. 



EMPEKOE OF MEXICO. 



NEW EDITION, WITH A PREFACE. 



IN THREE VOLUMES. 



VOL. I. 




LONDON: 
RICHARD BENTLEY, NEW BURLINGTON STREET. 

lisfyer in rbhtarjj to Her 
1868. 





LONDON: FEINTED BY 

BPOTTISWOODB AND CO., NEW-8TEEET SQUAEE 
AND PARLIAMENT STBEET 



F 

1133 



v-f 



ADVERTISEMENT 

BY THE ENGLISH PUBLISHES. 






A TEAR has elapsed since the mournful tragedy of 
Queretaro closed the career of one of the most gifted, 
genial, and chivalrous of princes; of one who seemed 
destined, by his liberal and enlightened policy, to develop 
the wonderful resources of a great empire, and to advance 
the cause of civilisation over the world. This was not to 
be ; betrayed by his trusted officer into the hands of 
his ruthless enemies, nothing but his blood would satisfy 
them, and Mexico will probably again fall into the same 
anarchy from which she might have been rescued by 
Maximilian. 

The public will feel an additional interest from his sad 
fate in the following graphic account of the voyages and 
travels of this estimable prince. 

The work was not originally intended for publication, 
and only fifty copies were struck off at the ( Greheime 
Staatsdruckerei ' (privy state printing-office) in Vienna, 
for his family and most intimate friends. It was written 



iv ADVERTISEMENT. 

shortly after he had reached his majority ; for he was born 
at Schonbrunn on the 6th of July 1832.* The narra 
tive extends from the 30th of July 1857, and concludes on 
the 19th of January 1860, while exploring the wonders 
of the Mato Virgem, the primeval forests of Brazil. 

The idea of publishing this work only occurred to 
Maximilian a short time before he was called to ascend the 
throne of Mexico. To the care of Baron Miing-Bellinch- 
hausen, so well known in German literature under the 
pseudonyme of Frederic Halm, he confided the super- 
intendence of it through the press. The first German 
edition of the first four volumes was published by Messrs. 
Duncker and Humblot, at Leipzig, in August 1867; the 
fifth, sixth, and seventh, on October 24, 1867. 

Political considerations induced the German publishers 
to postpone it towards the close of that year ; but these 
impediments were removed in 1866. In Mexico the 
Emperor occupied himself in revising it, indicating cor- 
rections, additions, and, above all, suppressions, rendered 
necessary, in a great measure, by the altered state of 
political affairs which had unexpectedly arisen. These 
circumstances caused the postponement of the appearance 
of the book once more ; and matters might have remained 
in the same state even now, had not the news of the death 
of Maximilian induced the Emperor Francis Joseph, from 

* While staying at Madeira, he jots down the celebration of the anniver- 
sary of his birthday, on entering into his twenty-first year. 



ADVERTISEMENT. V 

fraternal affection, to give orders to resume and complete 
the printing of the work. 

The Grerman publishers are in possession of a contract 
for the publication, signed, in the name of the Emperor 
Maximilian by the Mexican Consul-General, Staatsrath 
Herzfeld, and the Intendant-Greneral and Prefect of the 
Court Library, Baron von Miinch-Bellinghausen. This 
gives Messrs. Duncker and Humblot the right of publica- 
tion ; and in virtue of this contract, and acknowledging its 
validity, the Saxon Grovernment gave the requisite ' Ver- 
lagschein,' permission to publish the book. Two editions 
of the Grerman publication have been exhausted in eight 
months, and a third is in preparation. The right of 
translating it into English was purchased by Captain 
Otto Corvin, and by him transferred to the English pub- 
lisher. The original Grerman edition did not contain any 
preface nor introduction, and, therefore, the English 
translation had none. At a later period, on the appearance 
of a French translation, the Grerman publishers furnished 
materials for a preface, from which a few particulars are 
here given. The French translator thus eulogises Maxi- 
milian : 

' The Prince possessed an enthusiastic and ardent soul, 
a warm and loving heart, a mind keenly alive to all 
that was noble and beautiful, a poetical imagination, 
dreamy, and essentially romantic. This last quality was 
especially notable in him ; it was that upon which the 



VI ADVERTISEMENT. 

Prince most piqued himself. The lively and sensitive 
imagination, the chivalrous and romantic turn of mind, 
observable in him in childhood, and which remained until 
death, were characteristics of him, and may in themselves 
give some explanation of his strange and tragic fate. 
Severe judgments have been passed on Maximilian by his 
enemies. He has been pronounced to be an ambitious 
dreamer one who was glad to escape the dim cul ties of 
his position, and who eagerly seized the first opportunity 
to place a crown upon his brow. All his apprehensions 
and scruples, the profound repugnance which caused him 
to hesitate so long before accepting the crown, are lost sight 
of by these persons, who forget how many times he refused 
to be proclaimed Emperor, and that he only ultimately 
consented on the advice of the European powers. After 
he had been elected, and after long negotiation, he accepted, 
with the assent of the Emperor, his brother, the Imperial 
Crown of Mexico, which had been offered him on the 3rd 
of October 1863, at Miramar, by the commissioners de- 
spatched to him by the Assembly of Notables, who met at 
Mexico, bringing him the result of the vote of the Mexican 
population.' 

He sailed from Trieste in the Austrian frigate "Novara," 
and landed at Vera Cruz, May 24. The Emperor and 
Empress made their public entry into Mexico, June 12, 
1864, amidst unanimous acclamations. During three 
years, Maximilian occupied himself in re-organising his 






ADVERTISEMENT. vii 

empire ; but the civil war, maintained against him by the 
insurgent chiefs, stopped all beneficial progress, and the 
withdrawal of the French army left him alone to con- 
tend with his enemies, and rapidly brought about their 
triumph. On the 5th February he left Mexico to place 
himself at the head of his army to encounter Juarez. He 
was defeated, and was eventually betrayed by his traitor 
officer, Lopez, for 3,000 ounces of gold ! His execution 
quickly followed. On the 19th of June he was shot. This 
event is one of the most melancholy of modern times. 
His mental struggles and distress may be best described 
in his own words, written on the eve of the fatal decision 
which was to conduct him to Mexico :- 

'Must I separate myself for ever from my beloved 
country, the beautiful land of my early years ? You wish 
me, then, to quit my gilded cradle, and sever the sacred tie 
which binds me to my country the land in which the sun- 
niest years of my childhood had been passed, where I had 
experienced the exquisite feelings of early love. Must I 
leave it for shadows and mere ambition ? You entice me 
with the allurements of a crown, and dazzle me with foolish 
chimeras. Ought I to lend an ear to the sweet song of 
syrens? Woe be to him who trusts to such flattering 
promises! You speak to me of a sceptre, of a palace, 
and of power ; you place before mine eyes a boundless 
future. Must I follow you to distant shores beyond the 
vast ocean ? You wish that the woof of my life should 



Vlll ADVERTISEMENT. 

be entwined with gold and diamonds. But are you able 
to give me peace of mind ? And do riches confer happi- 
ness in your eyes ? Oh ! rather let me follow my tranquil 
life unobserved along the myrtle-shaded way-side. Believe 
me, that the study of science and the cultivation of the 
Muses are more delightful to me than the glare of gold 
and diamonds ! ' 

E. B. 

August 1868. 



CONTENTS 

OF 

THE FIRST VOLUME. 



PAOB 

ITALY . 1 

ANDALUSIA AND GRANADA 155 



I. 



ITALY 



1851. 



VOL. I. 



B 



, 



ITALY. 

Eoad of Trieste, July 30, 1851. 

WAS GOING to realise my much longed-for desire a 
voyage at sea. Accompanied by several acquaintances, I 
put off the dearly-loved shore of Austria. This moment 
was one of great excitement to me, for it was the first time 
I confided myself to the sea for a long trip. We dashed 
rapidly through the waves, and already, at about a quarter 
past 7, amidst the strains of the national hymn, we went 
on board the frigate ' Novara,' our future floating palace, 
of which the name itself was a good omen to every 
Austrian. The gentlemen who had accompanied us took 
their leave, the stairs were hauled up, and the last con- 
nection with the shore cut off; I was not able to send 
more than a few lines to my parents, written in the utmost 
hurry in the cabin of the commander. It began to get 
dark, and they were weighing the last anchor ; this work 
was, however, of very long duration, and great exertions 
on the part of the crew were required, as a new-fangled 
French invention about the capstan impeded the move- 
ment and brought us frequently to a stop. Unfortunately, 
at this moment a man was hurt so severely in his chest, 
that he had to be carried to the hospital. The steam 
corvette ( Lucia ' had taken us in tow, and at last, at 
9 o'clock we began to move. I arranged my cabin as well 
as possible : it was spacious, airy, and agreeable, and might 
be called pretty, had it not been, that, according to the 

B2 



4 RECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

wretched arsenal-taste, the colours of the furniture and 
curtains were in a too glaring contrast with each other. 

H. M. Frigate 'Novara,' July 31, 1851. 

This morning, from 8 to 12 o'clock, I had my first watch ; 
the sea was much agitated, the ship rocked considerably, 
and soon a heavy continuous rain poured down. The 
persons around me were suffering in the highest degree ; 
indeed, the trial was rather hard for the first day. After 
some time the wind became so contrary, that we had to 
unfasten the tow of the steamer, and commenced tacking 
towards the land. We had the coast of Istria in sight, 
but it was too much wrapped in clouds, and the weather 
was too bad to notice any interesting details. 

August 1, 1851. 

In the morning we had the Monte Osero, and some 
islands of the Quarnero in view ; the weather was tolerably 
fair, and the sea less agitated. Notwithstanding this, 
everybody was still sick. I had my watch from 8 until 
midnight, and was so sleepy as to fall down ; my boots were 
too tight, and my feet tired, so that it cost me some efforts 
to persevere till the hour of the ghosts. The horizon 
became cloudy, and flashes of lightning shed now and 
again the brightness of day over the ship. As no object 
impeded the view to the horizon, and the water reflected 
the light, the eye was sometimes even painfully dazzled. 
Such sights, on a grand wide stage, can only be seen by a 
traveller at sea. 

August 2, 1851. 

The coast of the Neapolitan kingdom, with the commence- 
ment of Abruzzo, came in sight, and we approached within 
eight leagues of the Italian shore. The little town of 
Viesti could be discerned with the naked eye. The country 
seems to be very mountainous, rather well timbered, and 
streaked by yellow stripes of earth. The town is not an 



THE NEAPOLITAN COAST. 5 

important one, and is situated on one of those yellow 
hills. There are, along the entire coast, and at no very 
great distance from each other, old towers, which were 
built as a protection against the former invasions of the 
Turks. Before Viesti we met many Neapolitan fishing- 
smacks, with peculiar sails. The intense heat of the sun 
reminded us that we had entered the southern regions. 

I August 3, 1851. 

What Nature is able to do, what powers she can com- 
and and work with, how the waves dance, how air and 
clouds wrestle with each other, can only be seen on the 
Alps, with their awful lakes surrounded by rocks, or on 
the wide endless plain of the sea. There the over-awed 
soul feels the littleness and vanity of man, and yet his 
courage and pride swell at the thought, that it is his 
intellect which cleaves the mountain-waves, and under- 
stands how to direct the lightning of the heavens. Such 
a soul-stirring moment we enjoyed this night. There was 
a tremendous combat going on amongst the elements ; 
the flashes of lightning were more glaring than daylight, 
the thunder crashing in short detonations louder than the 
report of the most powerful gun, violent gusts of wind 
shrilly shrieking, and the rain pouring down. I got up at 
about 4 o'clock, put on my clothes in haste, and went for 
a moment on deck to enjoy the unusual spectacle. Mass, 
ordered for 10 o'clock, could not take place, for the chap- 
lain was not well, and the movement of the vessel was too 
violent. However there was a review and music between 
10 and 11 o'clock, as usual. The Neapolitan coast came 
again in sight ; we approached the land within two leagues, 
so that we were able to distinguish very well the town and 
Cape of Otranto, both offering nothing extraordinary. 

Everywhere the towers before mentioned are to be seen \ 
the land is desolate and monotonous; we hope that the 



6 RECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

coast opposite, so much praised, will prove more attractive ; 
else the palm of beauty will remain to old and much- 
cherished Hellas, and the generally praised shore of Naples 
mil scarcely equal the splendid gulfs of Patras and Lepanto. 
Towards the decline of day, we passed the Capo di Leuca, 
and its church, which is a place of pilgrimage. By the 
light of evening this country appears a little more to 
advantage. The sun disappeared, pure and bright, in the 
sea, and its setting was a splendid spectacle. There was a 
southern glow and southern colouring in the twilight, that 

warmed my heart. 

August*, 1851. 

I rose at 3 o'clock, as my watch to-day was from 4 to 8 
o'clock. It was my good luck, on my first ( mattutina,' to 
enjoy the most splendid sunrise. 

Day brought us to the coast of Calabria ; the south 
coast offers rocky, bare, picturesque hills, leaving it to 
the splendour of the sun to colour and transform them into 
enchantingly poetical pictures. The frigate was unfor- 
tunately too far from the land to distinguish details. We 
were sitting quite comfortably at luncheon, when, at about 
half-past 11 we were suddenly startled by a splash in the 
water. Apprehending an accident, we rushed on deck : and 
then was heard the dreadful cry of ' Un uomo e caduto in 
acqua ! ' All was in confusion. I rushed to the quarter-deck, 
and saw the pitiable sight of the poor sailor, who had fallen 
from the dizzy height of the ' Mars ' yard, struggling with 
the waves to reach the ship, from which he was, however, 
separating more and more. The boat was lowered with 
the utmost possible haste ; the e salva uomini ' had missed, 
but the lightning apparatus had gone off and smoked and 
steamed at the stern of the ship. These were moments of 
the most dreadful pain, moments of horror ; the question 
was asked, again and again, ' Will the poor man be able to 
hold out ; will he have the strength to combat with the 



MESSINA. 7 

waves ? ' The boat pushed off at last ; it came nearer 
and nearer to the unfortunate man, who was seen at last 
to take hold of its gunwale, and, the Lord be praised, he 
was saved. He was carried to the hospital, but had not 
lost consciousness, and got off without being hurt to any 
extent. 

To-day the spectacle of old Etna was expected, like 
that of a Messiah, but all looking out and spying and 
guessing was in vain ; the venerable old fellow would not 
make his appearance, or rather was altogether out of 
sight. 

August 5, 1851. 

I had my watch from 4 to 8 o'clock; they were four 
most interesting hours, during which pictures of past history 
rushed by me. There old Etna rose from the morning 
vapours ; old Etna, the witness of so many past ages, 
the witness of so many disappointed desires of so many 
people, and of the degeneracy of powerful nations. There, 
in blood-coloured twilight, were glowing the mountains 
of Sicily, at the foot of which had been committed so 
many national crimes. On a sudden the sun sparkled on 
the hills of Calabria. Italy's hot sun, that poisoner o f - 
Sicilian blood, strikes with a thousand arrows proud 
Messina, whose towers, palaces, and strongholds burst in 
splendour from out the green, luxuriant gardens. It is 
the same Messina which was founded by the cunning, 
unruly heads of Greece ; in which the poet makes the 
sister-bride weep over two beloved corpses; in which a 
thrust into a French heart was the signal for the Siqilian 
vespers. But Grod also pronounced his judgment against 
this city, and the palaces of Messina still afford evidence 
of the verdict, as since that terrible earthquake only one 
story remains to the most beautiful of them, and the roofs 
now replace the vanished rooms of state. 

The sun conquered night, and dispersed the dark vapours ; 



8 KECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

in bright splendour the Pharo stood before our delighted 
eyes ; now in the daylight the outlines of the land were to 
be distinguished, and at the foot of the Calabrian moun- 
tains, washed by the blue sea, appeared the lovely town 
of Eeggio, floating in the green of a southern vegetation. 
Palm-trees waved proudly, vines and lemons smiled in- 
vitingly, and the light air brought us the refreshing balm 
of southern plants. In the background, on both shores, the 
volcanic mountains were seen in their sharp picturesque 
lines. The tones of colour were as glowing as the southern 
heart and eye required, and were such as to warm the 
soul of northern men. We were sailing tranquilly through 
the azure waves, and our glasses were kept in constant 
activity, as, unfortunately, we were not allowed to set foot 
on this classical ground. Messina was seen more and more 
distinctly; the palaces, forts, and churches were distin- 
guished so plainly by the glass, that I could even read, on 
a long building on the shore, the inscription, ' Palazzo di 
Citta.' What we Grermans, in our humility, call house, 
is named a palace by the bombastic Italians. Amongst 
the buildings we were most struck by a steeple, with 
ascending spiral arcades, and windows. The city is large, 
and rendered beautiful by its luxuriant gardens. The 
country lay before us in a splendid panorama. 

All was harmony in the still, holy, morning rest ; even 
Etna was breathing gently, the vapours from its crater 
rising only like a mist. 

The shores now became narrower, and we came to a 
new theatre of historical events, the much-celebrated straits 
of Scylla and Chary bdis. The awe breathing through the 
songs of Homer ; the horrors revealed to us by Schiller's 
* Diver,' vanished before reality. A bare neck of land, 
with a rather considerable village, and a solid although 
not high lighthouse, were seen from afar; at the end of this 
prominence is Charybdis and its abyss peaceably closed 



STROMBOLI, ETC. 9 

before us. At the other side, at the foot of the mountain, 
spring out of the sea the teeth of a black rock, with a 
castle on its top, which is connected with the land by a 
bridge; this is that most picturesque object, Scylla. 
Peaceably and without a pilot, we steered through the 
not very considerable water-strait, in which once Ulysses 
trembled, and which robbed the tender page of his 
life. On account of the roaring, hissing, or howling, un- 
fortunately, I could hear nothing. The sweet daughter 
of the king seems no longer to bend over the height, to 
look for the traces of the bold swimmer. We were now 
again on the high sea, filled with enthusiasm by the view, 
unfortunately too short, of the beautiful coast, which we 
had enjoyed. I took my little book out of the cupboard, 
and read : 

Kennst du das Land, wo die Citronen bliih'n ? 

Splendid as is the view of Messina, that of the gulfs of 
Patras and Lepanto is still more so. On our left we now 
saw the islands of Vulcano, Lipari, and Panaria, and 
before us appeared Stromboli all volcanic formations, 
as may be seen from their shape. These islands have 
no considerable circumference, but Stromboli reaches a 
height of two thousand feet, and has a great resemblance 
to a sugar-loaf flattened at the top ; it slopes abruptly to 
the sea, and only a few fishermen find shelter at this point. 
The vital fire of Vulcano has been extinguished for some 
years, but Stromboli is still smoking and spitting, in such 
a way as is pleasing to behold. 

August 6, 1851. 

In the forenoon we saw the coast of Policastro. I had 
my watch from 6 to 8 in the evening; the sunset had been 
beautiful, the fiery ball, floating in a golden glow, sank 
gorgeously in the sea ; the mountains of Salerno were 
delineated distinctly in grey masses, like the hills of Asia 



10 RECOLLECTIOXS OF MY LIFE. 

Minor ; and, partly shrouded by heavy clouds, appeared the 
mountains of Policastro. Poetical as this spectacle was, 
it was sad for the sailors, for a calm laid its leaden wings 
upon our ship, which lay on the smooth sea, transformed 
into an island. Scarcely had the gold on the waves 
towards the west faded, when they were dipped in silver 
by the moon. 

August 7, 1851. 

How little we had advanced during the night may be 
judged by the circumstance that, at about 10 o'clock, when 
the air cleared, Stromboli once again made its appearance ; 
but this time we were at least rewarded by clouds of 
smoke rising from its crater. I therefore pardoned its 
proximity, and even tried to sketch it ; it seemed to be 
strongly in a state of ferment, for clouds of smoke in- 
creased, and formed a dense canopy over its head ; two 
peaks of smaller islands, beyond the Pharo of Messina, 
were visible. During the forenoon the wind freshened up 
a little, so that at half-past 3 I saw another of these un- 
ruly fellows Vesuvius. 

August 8, 1851. 

Like the Greeks before Troy, we are lying before the 
entrance of Naples. Every day one expects to reach it, 
but there is never a favourable wind stirring. The sea is 
like a mirror this morning, and we find ourselves only off 
the height of Licosa. The shore is to be seen rather dis- 
tinctly, and a small place on an eminence probably the 
town of Licosa can be detected. The mountains are 
very high, and slope ruggedly to the sea, but they appear 
bare, and their form is not particularly remarkable. 

August 9, 1851. 

At half-past 7 I was awakened to see the splendid, 
picturesque forms of the islands of Capri. This castle of 



CAPFJ. 11 

rocks rose proudly, and its angular romantic lines were 
sharply delineated against the southern sky. Before the 
principal shore rise tower-like cliffs, like the outworks of a 
fortress, of which one is pierced, and forms a natural 
water-gate. Eocky as the island is, it seems to be tole- 
rably well populated and very fertile, and is the birthplace 
of the far-famed Capri wine. From whatever side we had 
an opportunity of seeing it, favoured by the course of our 
ship, it always appealed picturesque, always noble in form. 
Here rose timbered slopes, there rugged rocks down to 
the sea ; now castle-like forms appeared on the crest of 
the hills, and everywhere charming variety. 

We had scarcely time to enjoy this prospect when the 
islands of Ischia and Procida made their appearance all 
rocky islands, and yet romantically shrouded in green. 
Now we began to enter the gulf of world-famed Naples. 
The day was, unfortunately, not very clear, but the pano- 
rama was slowly unrolling before our eyes : hills were 
forming, masses of houses showing as we came nearer; 
single colours were detaching themselves from the general 
tone ; the forms of single houses came out ; questions 
were asked explanations about the most prominent 
points given ; glasses were in requisition; in a word, there 
arose that inward restlessness and bustle which always 
take place on approaching a remarkable locality, never 
seen before. But in my heart I felt a great disappoint- 
ment. During my voyage in Greece I had been told that 
Naples was greatly to be preferred to what I then saw. 
One fellow-traveller had placed it so far above anything 
I had seen that I had made up my mind not to like it 
so very much. With such ideas, one is much inclined to 
judge by first appearances. I found the city too small, 
the hills behind it too low ; would have preferred to see 
it rather at the foot of Vesuvius, densely wrapped up in 
clouds, and would altogether have liked to make improve- 



12 RECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

ments here and there. The day, as I said before, was not 
clear ; the lines of the hills were not drawn in full distinct- 
ness, the colours not enlivened by southern brightness; 
sky and sea did not show that deep blue which is beautiful 
above anything, and never to be forgotten by any one who 
has once seen it. 

We came nearer, and already the Castles of St. Elmo 
and Uovo, the Villa Eeale, and other distinguished places 
could be made out, but still I did not yet find the city 
to my taste. I preferred that side towards Vesuvius, and 
farther on towards Castellamare and Sorrento, where were 
high hills and green luxuriant land, and where the country 
appeared to me picturesque. Now the frigate turned 
round the Castle Uovo, which projects into the sea; the 
royal palace, with its massive forms, its green terraces, 
and majestic site, made its appearance ; houses were 
stringed to houses, palaces springing out, and I felt 
that Naples was a great and a beautiful city. We cast 
anchor, and waited longingly for the ( pratica ' which was 
to give us permission to land. But it was long before 
we were satisfied. We had no certificate of health from 
Trieste, and the most learned authorities of Naples would 
not permit us to go on shore without it. Thus we had 
to wait from 1 to 5 o'clock. The weather cleared up, 
and soon the panorama commenced unfolding more and 
more. To the right, on the sea-shore, was rising proud 
Vesuvius, with its dark mysteries, and at its foot the little 
town of Portici. To the right of Vesuvius stretched a 
manifold-formed mountain range, till, opposite Capri, and 
in its numerous recesses, shone out, amidst orange-groves, 
Castellamare, with its royal palace, situated on a height, 
' qui si sana ;' Sorrento, with its name consecrated by the 
poet; and the little town of Massa. To the left of the 
volcano, which was still covered by a small cloud, stretches 
a wide fertile plain towards the city, which reclines on 



NAPLES. is 

low hills enveloped in gardens. Yet, notwithstanding the 
length of this plain, the row of houses between Portici and 
Naples is scarcely interrupted. 

There is life in the masses of houses in Naples; one 
does not see those regular tiresome rows as in modern 
cities. As the principal points came out, we saw the royal 
palace, with its picturesque bright brick colour, and its 
fine orange-bowers, which rise in lofty arches like the 
gardens of Semiramis ; the Castle of St. Elmo, which 
crowns with a pyramid of houses an eminence in the 
centre of the city; the Castle of Uovo, which, to the left 
of the palace, rises as an outwork from the sea, and is only 
connected with the city by a bridge ; the Castle Nuovo, 
with the grey stronghold of the Anjous, once the residen- 
tiary palace of the princes of Naples; and the massive 
Italian palace Capo di Monte, rising between villas and 
gardens on the heights overlooking the city, and built by 
Charles III. as a summer residence for the Neapolitan 
kings. Between the crowd of houses peep out the cupolas 
of the churches, which are roofed with glazed tiles, and 
sparkle in the sun. 

At our anchoring place Castle Uovo concealed the long 
alleys of the Villa Eeale, and the street and row of houses 
behind it, called Chiaja, which is used by the Neapolitans 
as a Corso. Immediately behind this castle stands, on a 
terrace built on the sea, a small royal palace, called 
6 Chiatamone,' in the gardens of which a fine cluster of 
trees refreshes the eye. To the left of the city the sea is 
also embraced by a wide crescent like that to the right, 
and from its terrace long rows of villas shine upon us. 
At the end of this is cut in the rock the far-famed ' Grotto 
of Posilippo,' from which can be seen the port of Puzzuoli, 
with its fort crowned by a castle, and the stronghold of 
Baise. Here follow the islands of Procida and Ischia, 
which close this remarkable panorama. 



14 KECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

Whilst we gazed at all this with curiosity, we got a little 
foretaste of the peculiar Neapolitan life. On several over- 
crowded boats and sailing-vessels, which were darting past 
us through the foaming sea, we saw lazzaroni and fishermen, 
with their brown lively faces, red overhanging caps, and 
that costume which approaches so nearly a state of nature. 
One of them changed his shirt quite coolly in view of the 
frigate, surrounded by his fellow-travellers. After some 
time a boat approached our ship; it was our minister, 
Field-Marshal Lieutenant Martini, who from his boat held 
a conversation with our commander, and then, on account 
of the 'pratica' not being yet received, returned to the 
shore to wait for us there. At last, at about 5 o'clock, 
we jumped into the boat which was to bring us to shore. 
While steering towards the quay of Santa Lucia, which is 
situated between the Castle Uovo and the royal palace, 
our frigate saluted with twenty-one guns ; this thundering 
greeting was answered by a land battery. 

The nearer we came the more we could make out the 
peculiarities of the city. The houses are built close to each 
other, and are very narrow and high ; some have only one 
window in front; the roofs are terrace-like, and almost every 
window is provided with a small iron balcony ; and what 
is there that is not hanging or standing on these balconies ? 
what things amusing and not amusing are there not waving 
down ? The balconies are an important point in southern 
life, as you may see at once from these in Naples. Here 
flutter sheets and fans ; there are blooming flowers and 
monks, all in Italian ( sans gene.' We jumped on shore 
after nine days at sea, and found ourselves suddenly, as by 
witchcraft, transplanted into another world a world so 
confused that we required a long time to find our way in 
it. At the first step in Naples we were besieged by re- 
presentatives of popular life. There, were standing two 
Capuchins at the side of the street, with spectacles oa 



NAPLES. 15 

their serious noses, that they might examine the new- 
arrivals with a more acute eye; there, moved about a black 
three-cornered Abbate hat through the noisy, screamincr 
crowd ; there, thronged on the army of the lazzaroni to 
surround the bashful traveller. There was a life, a whiz- 
zing, a roaring, which the German ear is not used to. 
Our brains began to spin, and how was this rush of 
impressions further increased when we, with the minister, 
got into a ' batard ' to drive through the celebrated 
Toledo, the artery of Naples ! At home this hubbub 
would have been taken for a riot, perhaps for a mas- 
querade in the carnival ; but here it was only the every- 
day state. I was so surprised, so astonished, that only 
a few figures out of this motley mass remained impressed 
on my memory. The people here are full of life, not dull, 
or shut indoors, as in so many other cities ; all they do 
is done before strange eyes, for they live in the street, 
and that is a principal charm and chief amusement to the 
newly arrived observer. All shops are free and open ; the 
eatables are piled up in the middle of the city ; amongst 
the finest southern fruit, pigs, sheep, dogs, and children 
play ; the latter, who are sometimes in a complete state 
of nature, walk boldly, like genuine Murillos, in their 
Adamitic costumes, between macaroni stalls, and cooking 
shops, snatching their food from wherever they can get it, 
even if they find it in the dirt. At almost every corner 
are seen gaudily painted wooden chests, with an arch or 
columns, ornamented with oranges and foliage, from which 
shines the image of a Madonna. Behind these columns 
move long kegs, horizontally or vertically, according to 
their use ; from these kegs fresh water is poured out, and 
the men who work this simple machinery are the cele- 
brated ( acquajuoli.' 

The popular vehicles belong also to the most remarkable 
things of Naples; they are two-wheeled cars drawn by 



16 RECOLLECTIONS OP MY LIFE. 

one, two, and sometimes three horses ; the horses have at 
one of their ears a pointed tuft of feathers, and their odd 
harness is mounted with brass, and frequently provided 
with bells. Immediately behind the horse sits the driver ; 
between, the wheels a seat is raised for two or three per- 
sons ; yet the Neapolitans understand how to arrange it 
in such a manner that twelve to fourteen persons stand- 
ing, hanging, and sitting on such a narrow space, can be 
drawn by a little horse in trot. 

The celebrated Toledo is not at all pretty; the houses and 
the street itself are in the grandest disorder, and covered 
with a sort of artistic, poetical filth. Half up this street, 
which crosses the whole of the city, is a fine although not 
large place, called ' Largo del Mercatello,' of which one 
side is closed by a crescent-like building, belonging to 
the Jesuits ; the style shows its proprietors. The road 
rises towards the hill, and over a finely arched bridge we 
came upon the region of gardens. We had scarcely left 
the interior of the city, when we found the road shaded 
by trees, which are a chief ornament of Naples, and most 
refreshing to the eye. Through some serpentine wind- 
ings we came to an iron railing provided with a guard, 
and found ourselves before the splendid palace Capo di 
Monte. It is colossal, as are all the buildings in the Italian 
style of the last century. Columns and windows are cut 
out of mighty blocks of grey stone ; of the same material 
are the lofty and wide doors of the halls. 

The columns, also of grey stone, support in the in- 
terior the chief part of the building, and form yards and 
spacious lofty corridors, through which one can drive con- 
veniently in a carriage. The walls are bare bricks, the 
colour of which forms a good contrast to the grey. The 
palace is surrounded by a garden in the English style, 
in which tolerably large grassplots, by their dryness, have 
just now a rather disagreeable appearance. As a compen- 



NAPLES. 37 

sation there are some small palm-trees, and profusely 
blooming oleander shrubs. 

I drove into one of the fine and airy arcades of the 
palace, and paid a visit to my aunt Clementine. She re- 
ceived me dressed in deep mourning for her husband, the 
Prince of Salerno, who died several months ago. I found 
her with her daughter Aumale. We spoke much of our 
Viennese relations and of the good old times ! The rooms 
in which I found my aunt are of an extraordinary size, 
with gate-like doors and windows, lobster-red brick floor, 
and scanty furniture ; a genuine Italian arrangement. I 
also paid Count Aquila a visit ; he is living in a house at 
the side of a palace, but I found neither him nor his 
brother Trapani, who is residing in the palace. We then 
had a walk in the park, which extends far behind the 
palace ; it is in the old Italian style, with wide straight 
avenues, which are not, as in the French gardens, stiff walls, 
but are arched in regular embowered walks. The garden 
is rich in trees, which, for the greatest part, are covered 
with bushy ivy. The pleasure grounds are partly irre- 
gularly wild and partly in artificial order, which gives 
them a peculiar charm, assimilating them to the character 
of the Italians, their creators. The eye follows with plea- 
sure these long avenues, which so frequently cross each 
other, under the dark green of which one finds protection 
against the fierce sun. 

This fine park, stocked with hares and pheasants, is only 
used for the sport of the King, and entrance is granted 
only to a few favoured persons. We returned to the city, 
by the celebrated ' Ponti Eossi.' The road running on the 
height of Capo di Monte leads towards the plain between 
Vesuvius and the city. One garden here joins another, 
all ornamented by pine-trees of a rare size, and number- 
less grape-vines ; and the views enjoyed from the driving 
alley are splendid. The sun was just descending, the 

VCL. i. c 



18 RECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE 

weather had become clear, and Naples and its surround- 
ings showed what charm they may exert on the heart of 
the stranger ; over mine also the victory had been won. 

In the background Vesuvius rose mightily, at its foot 
spread the fertile plain far towards the mountains of 
Caserta ; to our right on the slope was the city, the wide 
extent of which was only to be seen now. Before and 
behind us was an exuberant southern vegetation ; far off 
the mountain chains of Sorrento and Massa appeared in 
half-dark blueness, and before them was the wide gulf. 
The road on which we were driving is called ' Strada dei 
Ponti Eossi,' after two old Eoman aqueducts, built of red 
bricks, and under which the road passed. But it is not 
by these antiquities that this road became celebrated, but 
by the splendid and matchless views from it. I was 
converted, and count myself now amongst the admirers of 
the sense-ensnaring Parthenope. Beautiful as Hellas is, 
splendid as the Gulf of Lepanto, yet these countries lack 
the full charm of green vegetation. 

Descending from the height, one again enters the 
city by the ( Strada Foria.' The first immense building 
that strikes the eye is the large poor-house with a mas- 
sive gorgeous facade, built by the order of Charles III., 
and called s Eeale Albergo dei Poveri.' Everything 
great that has been created in Naples and its environs 
originates from this King, who commenced his work 
when sovereign of Naples, and finished it for his son. 
Scarcely arrived in the city, new pictures of life presented 
themselves. We met elegant ( fourgons ' driving along the 
street, in trot towards the country ; but their freight was 
the dead, which, according to the Neapolitan custom, are 
forsaken by their relations after their decease, and are 
thus carried to the ' Campo Santo.' One of these vehicles 
was surrounded by little boys, dressed as cherubims, 
with burning torches in their hands, sitting on seats 



NEAPOLITAN BROTHERHOODS. 19 

arranged outside. We met also one of the celebrated 
Neapolitan brotherhoods ; it was a long procession of 
snow-white forms, following, two by two, a crucifix and 
a priest. The whole body of these ghostlike brothers 
was wrapped up, and only their eyes glittered through 
white rags, hanging down over the face from their pointed 
hoods. Each class institute among themselves a similar 
brotherhood, to nurse their sick, and do the last honour 
to the deceased at the common expense. Curious also 
was it to observe in this street the sight of small bridges 
on dry land ; they are built for the emergency of rain, 
which falls here frequently with such violence that it 
transforms the whole street into a torrent. The Neapo- 
litan does not remedy such an evil at the root, he prefers 
the odd way of building, in case of need, these remarkable 
means of communication. 

We now turned into the Toledo, at the corner of the ' Eeale 
Museo Borbonico.' This latter is a truly majestic building, 
also built in the old Italian style of grey stone and bare 
brick walls, and is used for the preservation of the antique 
and modern treasures of art belonging to the kingdom. 
Evening had come, and with it the liveliness in the street 
doubled. If, before, the lower classes were to be seen, now 
there were crowds of rich, who, after the indispensable 
siesta, throng the streets, to breathe the fresher air. At 
that part of the Toledo which is outside the c Largo del 
Mercatello,' the carriages jostled together. In Vienna, 
which is so full of life, this entanglement of carriages 
would have been taken for a stoppage produced by some 
accident ; but here it is only an everyday amusement, and 
notwithstanding the murderous noise to be heard from all 
sides, and that the carriages drive into each other like 
wedges, no lasting confusion occurs, and no accident 
happens. After the most ear-piercing concert, the single 
equipage is detached, to rush into some other crowd. This 

c 2 



20 RECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

bustle reminds one of the Fresco in Venice, where, in the 
Canal Grande, are crowds of vessels, only that there the 
moving powers are oarsmen instead of horses. The noise 
is considerably increased by the vendors and beggars, 
as the first praise their goods in the most comical and 
most shrieking manner, and accompany their resounding 
speeches with the most curious mimicry ; but the beggar 
tribes of the whole kingdom hold their congress at Naples ; 
especially at the street ' dei Ponti Rossi,' we were per- 
fectly surrounded by cripples, who unveiled their wounds 
and ailings in every possible manner to the eyes of the 
passers-by, and galloped alongside the carriage with the 
most wonderful velocity, to extort money by all kinds of 
vocal and gesticular modulations. From the Via Toledo, 
we proceeded to the house of our minister, which is situ- 
ated at the Chiaja behind the Villa Reale. We there got rid 
of our uniforms, and enjoyed for a time from the balcony 
the view on the enlivened corso, a long and wide street 
between, the avenues of the Villa Reale, situated imme- 
diately on the sea and separated from it by a railing and 
a row of newly built houses of tolerably symmetrical ap- 
pearance. There also carriage after carriage was driving 
past ; gentlemen and ladies on horseback moved to and 
fro ; and all was merriment and amusement. This seems 
to be the Neapolitan Prater. 

We then drove along the Chiaja in the direction of the 
sea-road of Puzzuoli. Both equipages and toilets were fine 
and expensive, but there was never in the tout ensemble 
a truly elegant harmony; you see beautifully built car- 
riages, with dirty drivers without gloves, and old women 
with elegant pink bonnets. It is striking, that gene- 
rally amongst the fair sex one scarcely ever sees noble 
or fine faces, the features having a somewhat Moorish 
character. 

Driving along, observing and gazing, before we came to 



THE VIA PUZZUOLI. 21 



the bouse of the minister, we met a high phaeton and a 
reddish-haired stout fellow, driving his horses in the 
English fashion, who very politely flourished his hat when 
seeing our minister. I asked who it was, and was highly 
delighted on hearing that my eyes had seen one of the 
great and mighty, one of the rulers of the universe, one 
of the chief weights of our century, one of the golden 
planets of the European constellation, it was the youth- 
fully vigorous Kothschild. The Via Puzzuoli on which 
we were driving now offered the most charming views. 
There is, on one side along the street, the tufa stone 
mountain, with its villas and gardens. The poor lazza- 
roni have worked into it cave-like dwellings, and there 
are also high arches hewn in this soft stone, which may 
serve as entrances to shops. On the other side of the 
street, the ground falls steeply off to the foaming sea, but 
nevertheless it is covered at many places with country 
seats. As the Via Puzzuoli turns round the roadstead, 
the city is to be seen in its full extent, with its picturesque 
forts and its green heights, the luxuriant splendid plain, 
the mighty Vesuvius, and the amphitheatrical mountain 
of Sorrento. 

The two most remarkable objects on the Via itself are 
the hoary ruins of a large palace, built projectingly into 
the sea, commenced by the Viceroys of Spain but never 
finished, which building is wrongly called the palace of the 
Queen Isan of Naples. A mighty palm-tree, with a splendid 
luxuriant crown, in one of the gardens rises abruptly at 
the road side. I have seen the palm-trees of Athens 
and those of Nauplia ; they are much higher, but I saw 
none so beautiful, so luxuriant, and spreading its crown so 
proudly as this, and no artist comes to Naples without 
sketching it ; its very numerous leaves are of considerable 
length, they bend in gentle arches towards the ground. 
The palm is a plant of the fancy; an enchanted fairy 



22 RECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

child, snatched from the dream of a god ; its shaft rises 
straight and wonderful, whilst the pleasing and soft undu- 
lations of its leaves are an alluring dance of the Graces. 
The sun had vanished long ago, thousands of lights ap- 
peared on all sides, and though the life of the day was 
finished, there awoke a new and perhaps still more ani- 
mated and interesting night-life in Naples. The glimmer 
of the lights on the quays was reflected in the sea, and 
drew golden furrows in the slightly rippling waves. But 
it was the full clear moon, that enhanced the light to an 
ideal, when she shed her silver beams dreamingly over land 
and sea. Now my heart rejoiced ; I humbly struck my 
colours, and bent my defyingly elevated head before the 
old bard who sings the ever-young song 

Kennst du das Land, wo die Citronen bliih'n ? 

I then shared the fate of all the German tribes wandering: 

o 

to the south, who are struck with admiration, and are 
captivated involuntarily by the mighty spell of Italy. 

Having returned from our drive, we stopped at the en- 
trance of the Villa Keale, and strolled through it in the soft 
moonshine under the splendid walks of olives and evergreen 
oaks, and other shady trees. But these are not the only 
attractions offered by this place. Marble copies of cele- 
brated antique masterpieces peep from among the green, 
dark arbours ; water basins with delicate fountains, statues, 
and luxuriant water plants which whisper mysteriously. 
The most celebrated of these basins is ornamented by the 
Eape of Europa, beautifully carved in marble; unfortu- 
nately it was too dark to admire perfectly its particular 
beauties. A second extensive basin was made of a large 

o 

piece of red granite, which had been excavated at PaBstum ; 
it is called the basin of Salerno, because it was set up in 
that town immediately after its excavation. There is also 
between the groups of trees a temple with the bust of 



THE VILLA REALE. 23 

Tasso ; and a friend told me that a guard was placed 
here to compel the visitors to take off their hats before 
the poet. I stepped close to the bust, and the soldier did 
accost me, but only to warn me not to approach too near 
the great man. If poor Torquato, who was mortified so 
frequently in life, could know with what etiquette he is 
surrounded after his death, his stony, serious face would 
smile derisively. Or is the guard intended to remind one 
of the former captivity of the poor poet ? We stepped out 
of the avenues on a half-round terrace projecting into the 
sea, and saw dark figures lying on the balustrades. We 
believed them to be Egyptian statues of a mysterious 
form, but discovered, on approaching nearer, good-natured 
Neapolitans, enjoying on these stones the cooling breeze in 
' dolce far niente.' The view from this projection was again 
splendid, charming, and new. From it were to be seen 
the Via Puzzuoli with its inhabited caves, which we had 
recently left. 

The name of the Villa Eeale leads one to imagine that 
it belongs to a summer residence, or a cottage of the 
King ; but it designates only a railed park with walks, 
small flower-gardens, single palm-trees, and little guard- 
houses at its different entrances, as entrance is prohibited 
to the lazzaroni, and only decently dressed promenaders 
are seen here. We stopped for a moment at the iron gate 
fronting the city, to refresh ourselves at one of the c acqua- 
juoli ' with water out of a wooden keg ; then we went 
along the quay of Santa Lucia, the true region of the 
lazzaroni. 

The streets are filled with boxes, in which the most 
curious eatable productions of the sea are piled up and 
protected against the sun by a somewhat inclined um- 
brella. Everywhere are to be seen cooking shops, heaps of 
fruit, and small tables on which some ring-shaped pastry is 
for sale. A number of small oil lamps light up these 



24 KECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

arrangements, which are surrounded by a mass of braying 
people. Women and children rush upon the promenaders, 
with the most varied offers and requests. Beggars from 
all sides surround and plague the passers-by. Besides all 
this confusion, one must take care not to step on one of 
the lazzaroni, who are lying about on the ground, sleeping. 
Stepping down a staircase to the lower quay immediately 
upon the sea, one sees a new feature of Neapolitan life ; 
hundreds of chairs stand there on the wet slippery ground ; 
elegant and dirty people, secular and ecclesiastical, are 
sitting comfortably about; and what do you think they 
are doing ? Are they taking coffee, or more probably ice 
cream ? No ! they drink nothing else but an abstergent 
sulphuric water, carried round in large tumblers by lazza- 
roni women, and eat with it the above-mentioned ring- 
shaped pastry ; and these are, as Field-Marshal Lieutenant 
Martini said to me, ( Le delizie di Napoli.' There is 
nothing to reply but, <De gustibus non est disputandum.' 
The sulphur spring furnishing this horrid beverage is on 
the quay, in a vault below the highway. We entered it ; 
the ground is wet, the grey building is supported by 
pillars, and at the end of it a flight of steps, where the 
lazzaroni world, with their tumblers, crowd to catch the 
nectar that is bubbling out there, for the mortals sitting 
on the quay. The spring belongs to the people, who use it 
freely. 

Before the quay on the sea are erected another pecu- 
liarity of Naples filthy wooden booths, connected with 
the land by narrow bridges, and imposingly called ( bagni 
di mare.' But the water in these baths is so brown and 
dirty, the booths so disgusting, that, according to our ideas, 
there would be no great pleasure in visiting them, and yet 
at these balconies men and women sit crowded together, 

O " 

and seem to have their gossiping rendezvous. After having 
vastly enjoyed this evening, in which our senses had to 



PORTICI AND EESINA. 25 

take in so much in so few hours, we stepped into our 
boats, and quickly and quietly, in the pure light of the 
moon, we returned to our water palace. The city, with its 
myriad lights, its bright glittering quays, was amphitheatri- 
cally spread before us, and for a long time after we left, 
we heard the noise of the people. 

Road of Naples, August 10, 1851. 

At half-past 2 we had to leave our hammocks, for the 
battle-cry of this day was Vesuvius ! To the old sire of 
Naples, the greatest lion of the neighbourhood, the first 
visit must be paid. It was not half-past 3 when our 
boat left the ship, rowing towards Portici, where we 
were to find the aide-de-camp of our minister, and the 
horses which were to carry us up the mountain. But we 
had ventured to go away without a guide, and were now 
rowing near the coast along the little town of Portici, 
without knowing the appointed landing-place. For a 
long time we sought our port in the grey of the morning, 
asking fishermen and shippers; but the fishermen and 
shippers spoke Neapolitan, and Neapolitan is not Italian. 
Thus we might have squandered away in search the finest 
hours of the morning, if, on a sudden, the light of a torch 
had not appeared, giving us to understand, by sundry 
movements, that our boat should row towards it. We 
obeyed the signal, and were soon in a secure port. We 
mounted on horseback. What an agreeable feeling it is 
to be in the saddle again, after a week's living on board 
ship ; and although the horses were small, and one could 
only balance oneself instead of sitting upon them, we pro- 
ceeded quite briskly. We passed first through the streets 
of Portici and Eesina, where, in preparation for one of the 
church festivals, so frequent in Italy, sundry flags were 
hanging on ropes across the streets. After having passed 
through several streets, our road led us between gardens 
full of the most luxuriant grape-vines, and particularly 



26 RECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

large cacti, all in the freshest and most brilliant green, 
notwithstanding the advanced summer. The ground 
began to ascend, and we came upon an excellent wide 
road, built by the present King, and leading to the 
hermitage. It runs mostly between chestnut-groves and 
vineyards, in serpentine windings up the mountain. At 
each turn the view of the sea, the city, and the plain, 
became more expansive. We were still in the shade 
of Vesuvius, when the sun commenced painting the 
country at our feet with golden tints. The wide plain 
was covered with spots of fog which looked like lakes, or 
parts of the sea, between which, the land, with its steeples 
and woods, came out like islands. I preferred this view to 
the one I had yesterday ; for here, surrounded by exuberant 
green, one gets a conception of the boundless richness of 
nature, and the profuse gifts with which the Creator has 
endowed this favourite part of the earth. As a contrast, 
or rather as a complement to this luxuriant picture of 
nature, appears rich Naples, which, unlike other cities, is 
not separated by walls or ramparts from the country, but 
blends with the green of the landscape by its gardens and 
villas. To complete this splendour, this Paradise of a 
country and this city of life and animation are washed by 
the waves of a splendid large gulf ; and thus land and 
water are lying at the feet of the admirer who wanders 
over that rich slope, and unite to form a picture one 
perhaps may never find again, of a terrestrial Eden. 

I like to pass over the immediate space in quick time, 
the sooner to reach the desired place, and to stay there at 
leisure; we spurred, therefore, our lean little horses, and in 
wild chase now trotting, now galloping and put in the 
best of humours by this irregular riding, we were rapidly 
nearing the volcano. We soon saw, to the right and left, 
the places covered with lava, but they were also already 
covered with verdure ; the living vegetation had conquered 



THE APPROACH TO VESUVIUS. 27 

the dead mass, and the ground formed from the ashy rain 
had become serviceable to man. The ashes which, after a 
certain course of time, become fertile, are extremely fine, 
and of a greyish-yellow colour. In Pompeii, which had 
been buried under them, the excavations, newly undertaken, 
are easy ; whilst Herculaneum, which had been overflowed 
by dense masses of lava, offers far greater difficulties. 

We approached the hermitage; the richly overgrown 
promontory on which we were riding became narrower and 
narrower, and after a turn of the road we suddenly saw a 
large lava stream, the result of the last eruption, running 
between the promontories and Vesuvius. Like a petrified 
river, the brownish-grey lava extended, awful and lifeless, 
a charmless picture of horror a mass, stifling every germ 
of life, a spectacle not to be equalled by anything in this 
world. One can imagine, on looking at these cooled 
waves of lava, how they, following the law of nature in 
their course, irresistibly bore away with them everything, 
embracing it glowingly with their fiery arms, and pressing 
it to death in hot lust. The overflowing waters are also 
dreadful ; they rush, devastating and destroying the fertile 
fields ; but at last they cease, and the visited land, although 
laid waste, reappears. But the red-hot flood springing 
forth from the crater of Vesuvius buries everything; the 
lava cools, and forms a rocky crust over the once green 
grounds, and thousands of years must pass before suffi- 
cient fresh soil is collected to enable new plants to germi- 
nate. The banks of this awful Lethe were overgrown, 
and still we moved on green ground. We had reached 
the hermitage, a point well known to tourists. A small 
house and a little church stand there, unscathed, on the 
cone, shrouded in the most beautiful green ; on its right 
and left frequently flowed blood-red cascades ; the sea of 
fire swelled on to the little church, but the flood always 
divided at the house of God, and the house of the hermit 



28 RECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

remained untouched in the middle of destruction. The 
fine lime-trees testify to the age of this dwelling, which 
is situated on a small terrace of earth, and overspread it 
with their shadowy roof. The little church is to the right, 
leaning against the house, and by the side of it is a fine 
garden, from which there is a picturesque view. From 
this height one looks far over the wide landscape, over that 
country which is blessed by (rod, and over the blue flood. 
Here one enjoys life to the full, in the golden haze of the 
sunshine. I had never had my desire, and seen a hermit; 
empty hermitages I have met with frequently, and many 
neat little summer-houses to which that name had been 
given ; I had read of those pious men, in many awful 
stories, and had been anxious, for a long time, to see one 
of these solitary creatures. Although the tradition was 
wide-spread, that the hermit of Vesuvius was a very 
gay fellow, having somewhat of the fiery element of 
his supporter, he was still a hermit, had the long gar- 
ments and the long wavy beard, and that was sufficient. 
But again I was disappointed, again my hopes vanished. 
The world-famed hermit, dispenser of the blood-red 
Lacryma Christi, was gone to his fathers, with all his 
poetry, to be replaced by every-day prose. It soon fell to 
our lot to see the new inhabitant of the cell : no brown 
cowl fluttered about his lean shaky body, no beard 
waved as a banner of hope to the tired pilgrim, no hair- 
rope girded the feeble loins ; no, a hackneyed, every- 
day figure stood before us. The aspect was somewhat 
startling, so out of harmony were the dress-coat and 
the inexpressibles of the poor guardian of the Lacryma 
Christi. He had hoped, it seems, for a whole flock of 
strangers, and he had been waiting with the mass, and 
offered to read it on our return. We were very glad at 
this, and very thankful to the poor man, for otherwise we 
should have had to attend service in Portici. Whilst 



THE EOYAL OBSERVATORY. 29 

contemplating the view, we heard the finest, purest song 
of a feathered songster, which is rare at this time of the 
year ; perhaps it sang of the old romantic time, when 
hermits did not as yet drink Lacryma Christi, and men 
still lived according to Nature, and were rewarded by her 
for it. 

After a short rest, we started for our goal. We were 
still riding on the green cone, but the ground between 
the lava channels continually got narrower, and vegetation 
more scanty. The excellently planned road brought us to 
the Royal Observatory, a fine solid building, much orna- 
mented with lava, which had been commenced ten years 
ago. A little garden spreads, terrace-like, before it, and 
contains in lava excavations an interesting collection 
of those plants which grow on Vesuvius. The building 
has been erected by the present King, and is useful, as the 
wide horizon seen from it offers an opportunity for obser- 
vations which would be otherwise impossible ; but it is not 
now inhabited by any savan. To live in a house so 
situated in this region of lava would be a sacrifice which 
a Neapolitan would hesitate to make to science. After 
leaving the Observatory, the projecting earth ends in a 
sea of lava ; the vegetation exhibits only herbs and single 
scanty shrubs ; the channels of the lava unite, the hoofs of 
the horses strike volcanic blocks, and one comes to the 
valley between Monte Somma and Vesuvius. The beau- 
tiful life of the earth is seen now more rarely, one is 
surrounded by the colourless picture of a general nothing. 
Dark fields, grey blocks, black masses, hills of moving 
ashes, and cracking burnt-out lava, surround the little 
troop of poor travellers who venture into this vast, endless, 
awful realm of the dead, in this discord of nature, in this 
valley of melancholy. Once the two summits of Monte 
Somma and Vesuvius were united, but the interior of the 
earth revolted, the mountain burst, and out of the wide 



30 RECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

yawning jaws poured forth flood upon flood, which at last 
cooled, and became that colourless, motionless, dead sea, 
surrounded by ashy sand, which now separates the two 
summits. The eye wanders wearily over these monoto- 
nous masses, which cover the mountain, and from which 
life has flown. Very far off one sees the wide God- 
blessed country, the city of joy, the smiling plain. The 
gradation of the gradual decay is remarkable; the old 
lava lying for thousands of years is covered with green ; 
and on the lava of centuries dry shrubs vegetate in the 
fine ashes as well as flowers which do not require a good 
soil. In the lava thrown up in modern times, and on 
small tracts over the whole mountain, single seeds ger- 
minate. Nature would dress the country in her green, but 
the wild eruptions of the volcano do not permit it. 

Our horses climbed with much adroitness the dismal 
masses of lava, and we soon arrived at the foot of Vesuvius. 
The valley between the two heights is not very wide, but, 
considering that it is only a chasm in the once-united 
summit, one wonders at the hidden and awful powers of 
Nature. The great eruptions which imperilled the sur- 
rounding country, and of which the most recent and 
devastating one took place in February 1849, are all to be 
traced in this valley ; the hot blood from the wounds of 
the earth were poured out either on the mountain slopes 
towards Eesina and Portici, or on the other side towards 
Pompeii. The smaller eruptions take place from Vesuvius 
proper. Monte Somma has remained calm and quiet 
since the time of the destruction of Herculaneum and 
Pompeii, and Nature is already commencing to spread life 
over the rough mountain. 

We had now arrived at the point where one must con- 
fide to one's own feet or the arm of the guides ; the horses 
were tied up, and the gendarmes who had accompanied us 
from the hermitage, on account of some robberies, re- 



ASCENT OF VESUVIUS. 31 

mained at this place. Some men, provided with leather 
straps, insisted on dragging me up ; but on such occasions, 
however troublesome, I prefer always trusting to my own 
legs. One sees here what man can do when he has to 

o 

reach an important object; were it not for the flaming 
crater floating before our eyes, one would perhaps not 
climb up this painful and tedious way with such steady 
perseverance. First, we waded up a steep path of fine 
ashes, and this part of the undertaking may be compared 
to the tortures which Eomans and Greeks assigned to the 
lower regions. One ascends with difficulty ; one hopes to 
reach a higher point ; then the ashes suddenly give way, 
and the foot again sinks into the grey mass, so that in this 
manner we take three steps onwards, and two downwards. 
But we looked at the expedition from its humorous side, 
and so it became much easier. By the side of this meadow 
of ashes is a field of bare pieces of lava, mostly from two 
to three feet in diameter, to which the guides led us after 
having brought us for some time through ashes. There 
was not much gained by the change, for, although the 
support gave way if it were too much trusted, yet you could 
jump over the ashes easily ; but here the feet and the poor 
boots suffered greatly. Panting in the sweat of our brow, 
we climbed from one piece of lava to another ; the heat 
got more and more perceptible, our exertions greater and 
greater; but we proceeded with good spirit, having the 
mysteries of the crater before our mind's eye. This lava 
path comes in a direct line from the top of the mountain 
to the valley. The pieces forming its contents are similar 
in colour, shape, and weight, to the slakes which fall off at 
our iron works. Before we reached the height we found 

o 

crystals of selenite amongst the lava ; they are small, of 
tetragonal shape, and have a greenish-yellow colour. Each 
step we took on these moveable stones seemed to us dan- 
gerous, for the higher we climbed the nearer appeared the 



32 RECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

danger of rolling down the mountain, together with the 
edged lava on which we were walking. Sometimes it 

o < - > 

happened that the support on which we were leaning gave 
way from under our feet with a dull noise, but then 
another stone would stop the one rolling, and give us time 
to jump nimbly on to another. After we had climbed 
under great difficulties half our way, we were conscious 
of a cooler air, and a slight sulphuric smell. The clouds 
surrounding the summit of Vesuvius came and disap- 
peared ; but we did not care much for that, as the view 
was not the principal object in our ascent of the mountain. 
The closer we came to the much -longed-for goal, the more 
eager grew our exertions ; one of the men who had accom- 
panied us had already reached it ; and only a few more 
efforts, a little more panting, and we should arrive also. 
We found ourselves in a dell between the two topmost 
summits. What a spectacle, what an inexpressible sight ! 
The slopes were covered with white sulphur, the lava 
ground was black, the ashes grey; yellow and red pieces of 
brimstone lying there singly ; from under the great pieces 
of lava vapours were gushing forth ; the view around was 
concealed from us by the caldron-shaped eminence ; steam 
and fog covered the firmament, and the air was now rough 
and cold, now warm and sulphury. Everything breathed 
death and destruction. One had a sensation of the work- 
ing of mighty, unknown powers beneath ; one saw colours 
one had never seen before, and felt surrounded by an air 
of another kind ; we could not think we were living on the 
rich earth, but in chaos, amongst the primitive elements 
from which God had created the world; amongst the 
poisonous vapours before water and air had been separated, 
and before the sun had enlivened the world. It was one 
of those impressions which are indescribable ; one must feel 
and experience it, to have a perception how Nature works 
here, to understand how little man is, and how little his 



NEARING THE CRATER. 33 

knowledge. We were not yet at the edge of the crater, and 
I was already more excited by the spectacle surrounding me 
than by anything I had seen before. Every traveller has 
certain stereotype movements, when first seeing certain 
noted localities of the world. If he comes for the first 
time to the shore of the sea, he collects shells with a 
childish eagerness. If he comes to the south, he lays hold 
in haste on the unknown fruit. If he comes to Vesuvius, 
he seizes upon the different many-coloured pieces of sul- 
phur which at once strike his eye. Men have a strong 
inclination to collect, and to throw away what they collect. 
We did our best, and stooped down to cram our pockets. 
I made an examination also of one of the blocks under 
which, from fissures, the hot steam arose. The fine moist 
lava sand lying before one is so hot, that one is not able 
to keep the hand in it longer than a few moments. Every- 
where these openings are to be found, which must have 
some connection with the interior of the mountain. Some- 
times these vapours are without smell, like those arising 
from hot water, and spread only a moist heat ; others, 
however, are so sulphuric, that one feels a pricking sensa- 
tion in the chest, compelling one to cough. 

We left the small but grand valley by a narrow path, 
which has been made out of the rolling ashes at the back 
of the chief cone. Whoever is giddy and has no secure 
step must shun this way. To the right is the exterior 
wall of the great crater, where are found lava rocks of the 
oddest form, out of which vermilion-red sulphur shines. 
To the left the ashy mountain falls off precipitately to the 
valley between Monte Somina and Vesuvius. The spec- 
tator walks on a narrow path in a soft mass of ashes ; but 
this narrow path leads to the crater, and one does not 
mind the danger, and is highly gratified by the sight of 
the valley beneath. Here one can recognise the course of 
the great eruption of 1849. Great heaps of ashes and 

VOL. I. D 



34 RECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

lava are mixed in the direst confusion ; hills and valleys 
of grey and black colour appear like immense fire-holds ; 
but there is nowhere a chasm of any extent the eruption 
tore open the ground, threw up lava and stones, but the 
opening which it made was filled up again by the material 
falling back into it. At that time the stream of lava 
coming from the orifice in the valley opposite the her- 
mitage took its course in the direction of the plain, to- 
wards Castellamare, in which Pompeii is situated. The 
villa of a Neapolitan prince and his vineyards were, on 
that occasion, buried. From where we stood we could 
see distinctly, as I said before, the way taken by this fiery 
stream. A new crater on Vesuvius announces such a 
phenomenon by emitting smoke and flames some long 
time before. 

Our path still ascended ; we passed the dangerous place 
with caution and steadiness, till at once was unfolded be- 
fore us, in awful majesty, the aspect of the yawning abyss. 
We stood on that edge, formed on one side by the moun- 
tain slope, on the other by the steaming crater. Even in 
the nursery, they tell us of the mighty fire-mountain with 
its deathly abyss. In travelling sketches the tourists take 
pains to bring this grand picture before the mind of the 
eager reader ; and so Vesuvius ever floats before the eye 
of our mind like an indistinct object ; one gropes in the dark 
towards it, and has an idea that no pen has yet succeeded 
in describing conceivably what one sees and feels here. It 
is indeed impossible for any one to convey in words that 
impression, and no imagination could construct an approxi- 
mate picture. It was the same with me ! I had so 
frequently heard of this crater, so many of my acquaint- 
ances had visited it, yet I was quite differently affected 
on seeing it than I had expected. A wide abyss extended 
before my eyes ; the upper crest of which was, at several 
places, considerably higher than that on which I was stand- 



VESUVIUS. 35 

ing, therefore the edge was not equally high and was 
shaped like a mountain cauldron. The edge on the crest 
of the crater is exceedingly narrow, in proportion as the 
width of the pyramidal rising walls enclosing it more and 
more decreases. On the exterior side the sloping ground 
consists mostly of pure ashes and lava, but in the interior 
the regularly sloping ashy walls and the rugged lava rocks 
are covered by broad fields of sulphur, glowing in the 
most striking and glaring unmixed primitive colours ; the 
edge and a few yards on the outside are also covered with 
these sulphur crystals. The principal tints are the brim- 
stone-yellow and glaring vermilion-red, which latter is 
generally seen in veins in the yellow fields: but one sees 
also, particularly at places where hot steam is pouring out, 
reddish-bluish-purple and verdigris-coloured tints. These 
latter are mostly insupportably hot, moist from the steam, 
and covered with a white substance similar to .hoar frost. 
These varied tints give to the crater a very marvellous, 
unnatural appearance ; the colours are so glaring and yet 
lack freshness. It is a cold lifeless spectacle, and the con- 
trast between this glaring colouring and the toneless grey 
of the ashes and lava is too striking to be beautiful. The 
interior shape of the crater is the exact counterpart 
of that of the exterior. Vesuvius is an upright-standing 
cone ; the excavation of the crater has the shape of a 
reversed cone. The continuation of the funnel was hid 
before us by a lava rock projecting over the deep valley 
on our side. Large masses of steam gushed out of the 
interior, but, like as at a charcoal kiln, small columns of 
smoke come out of many different places of the walls of 
the funnel, so also on the outside of the edge of the 
mountain single little clouds of steam came up. These 
outlets generally occur under larger blocks of lava, which 
are covered with many-coloured flowers of sulphur. When 
the milk-white clouds of steam were very strong, the 

D 2 



36 RECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

inside of the crater could not be seen distinctly ; but from 
time to time the clouds were lifted up, and then we were 
allowed to see what was going on in the cauldron ; then 
the abyss was at rest, as after a long, deep breath, and one 
could examine the awful depth ; and indeed these holes 
have something jaw like, like those of the dragons of the 
fabulous age. The brimstone glitters like the smooth in- 
vulnerable scales, and has even the colours with which 
fancy paints these monsters. From the interior come the 
poisonous vapours which envelop the dragon- hunter with 
the vapours of death. 

In the place where I stood, on the edge of the abyss, I 
felt lost ; it seemed to me that I was no longer on this 
earth, but standing on the boundary of another world. I 
felt alone amongst all the terrors of nature, in this eter- 
nally stirring desert, in this soundless chaos. I felt sur- 
rounded by the horrors of the fabulous world, and, without 
the presence of my friends, terror would have driven me 
away. I did not feel steeled enough to resist such im- 
pressions ; I was overpowered by the inconceivably myste- 
rious spell of this subterranean working. And there is 
truth in these impressions : it is the language of nature that 
frightens the conscience of man, and which convinces him 
of his vanity ; it is the deep unknown power of these ele- 
ments which, when slumbering, are not noticed by thought- 
less man, but which, awaking now and then, admonish irre- 
sistibly. How powerful must be, therefore, the first sight 
of Vesuvius and its mysterious laboratory, where the be- 
holder is separated from the hot floods only by a thin 
crust, through which the stinging steam is oozing, and 
which conceals from him the spectacle of the destroying 
flames, a crust which may burst every moment, and yield 
before unfettered powers. But as soon as there are a few 
of us together one does not feel lonely ; in the face of na- 
ture one becomes the merrier, and hurries on recklessly 



VESUVIUS. 37 

over the ' road of horror.' To show the heat of the steam 
coming from the openings the guide placed some eggs, 
which an old man had brought, together with some bottles, 
in the hot sulphur before one of the small orifices ; in the 
shortest time they were boiled, and we ate them with some 
brown bread. I had not for many a day so enjoyed a 
dejeuner a I' impromptu, and it appeared to me as if no 
cook succeeded so well in boiling eggs as old Vesuvius. 
Inwardly I toasted a few dear friends in sour Lacryma 
Christi. According to an old custom, the bottle went 
round, then it was sacrificed to the crater, into which 
it rolled jingling down. Our cicerone and another guide 
ventured rather a long way down the slope of the crater ; 
the first to give us the spectacle of rolling down pieces 
of lava, the other to fetch for us some of the many- 
coloured sulphur formations. Very peculiar is it, when 
these pieces of lava, rolling down from point to point, 
produce the noise of distant thunder, which resounds 
slowly from the walls, till it dies away at last, leaving the 
impression that the crater loses itself infinitely in the 
bowels of the earth. 

The cicerone proposed to take one of the two roads 
round the craters; that crater near which we stood is 
newly formed, the other is that of 1839. We proceeded 
along the narrow edge, but our company had nearly lost 
courage. The sulphuric vapour enveloping us acted on 
our lungs, and we experienced the awful feeling of suffo- 
cation, and indescribable pain seized us ; and as a last expe- 
dient, I thought of hurrying down the off side of the ashy 
ridge, to get a little fresher air. 

My companions voted for returning, but I found it so 
interesting to walk round the crater, that I suggested 
that we should try what our lungs could stand. I went 
on and the rest followed, bon gre mal gre. I walked 
close behind the guide, the others followed at my heels. 



38 RECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

I defended myself as well as I could, and put the hand- 
kerchief before my nose and mouth, and thus steered 
through the steam which the wind was driving strongly 
towards us, and two or three times I thought rny 
courage would entirely forsake me. After much toil, 
we conquered the evil powers, and reached our goal ; 
the pain subsided, and we could examine what was 
before us. 

The upper irregular circumference of the second crater 
was, like the former, between twenty to thirty yards in dia- 
meter ; the hollow narrows, funnel-like, and the walls were 
also perhaps still more glaring, being covered with sulphur- 
fields. The particularly remarkable feature of this crater 
is, that you can see its bottom. The stones thrown down 
produced a thunder, but one saw them arrive at the bottom, 
to which, indeed, one might, I believe, descend without 
great difficulty with the help of ropes, if it were not for 
the sulphuric vapours ; but these would suffocate the over 
curious ; the temperature of the ground also may be too 
high, for even the place on which we were standing was 
in many spots so glowingly hot, that it was impossible to 
stand there for any length of time. This crater towards 
the sea-side could be seen much better than the other, as 
the vapours were not so frequent or so dense. It seems 
to rest sometimes from its impetuosity, and we could 
walk around it without being hindered by the stifling 
sulphuric exhalations. When the clouds surrounding 
the summit of Vesuvius parted in their rapid flight, por- 
tions of that splendid panorama could be seen extended 
beneath our feet, floating, as it were, in a veil-like white 
haze, like a picture in a dream. Standing on this theatre of 
destruction we were spell -bound, seeing, as in a fairy land, 
the sea and its beautiful shore. As the mist shifted the 
pictures disappeared, but only to display new ones. Before 
leaving the edge of the crater the cicerone descended with 



VESUVIUS. 39 

great boldness to a projection over the depth, and thrust 
his stick in one of the many holes by which the ground is 
perforated, assuring us that the wood would be lighted 
here by the flames of the lower regions. I could not 
forbear following him to the rather dangerous spot, and 
placed myself by his side on the dizzy projection. Our 
sticks were wedged into the hole, but, after some turning 
and stirring, the guide abandoned his attempt. With in- 
credible temerity, he ran down a part of the wall of the 
crater, as if it were a smiling meadow on a soft slope, and 
yet a single slip of the foot would have hurled him to 
certain destruction ; though he would not have been the 
first sacrifice devoured by that abyss. A longer stay at 
this place would not have been advisable, as the soles of 
our boots became extremely hot. We took one more look 
at the awful abyss, in which yellow and vermilion fields of 
sulphur were shining. Once more we admired the power 
and grandeur of nature, and then retired to a little 
hollow, which smoked only in a few places, to refresh a 
little our tired limbs ; and here we took, between lava 
blocks and ashes, a frugal luncheon. Living things seem 

Iso little in harmony with Vesuvius, that one sees with a 
sort of surprise, lying between the grey masses, many re- 
mains of refreshments and breakfasts. Kernels of fruit, 
and peels of oranges and lemons lie about, forming an 
odd contrast with the soulless desert around. But all life 
does not shun poor Vesuvius : a few insects buzz about, 
and the lizards glide over lava and sulphur. I found also 
immediately beside the hot sulphur, several poor dead 
scarabees ; but whether it is true, as is currently said, that 
Vesuvius in his last eruption threw out a great quantity of 
small and unknown animals, I cannot guarantee, although 
this mysterious mountain might very likely indulge in 
such curious freaks. 

After having dispatched our luncheon, we returned to 



40 RECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

the point to which we had climbed three-quarters of an 
hour ago, steaming with perspiration like beasts of burden. 
Here a pleasure of the rarest kind awaited us ; for the ap- 
proach which had cost us so much trouble and toil, we could 
now fly down, and reach the valley between Monte Somma 
and Vesuvius as quick as lightning. The famous gliding 
through the ashes was to be gone through. I had often 
heard of such a thing at home, but could never form a 
distinct idea of it. With mad delight I threw myself 
forward, and jumped into the ashes^ the whole company 
after me. You think you must irresistibly slide down the 
mountain, without having any will at all ; but the feet 
sink softly in the yielding ashes, and one can stop, when 
at the greatest speed, by throwing back the body ; a step 
which is sometimes required in this rapid journey. 

The feeling is indescribably agreeable ; one gets a notion 
of the splendid feelings of a bird of prey, when winging 
itself from the height of the air down to the deep valley. 
But indeed our company rather resembled, sauve le re- 
spect, a herd of young he-goats, which, after a long 
winter, are led for the first time to the green meadows. 
Capers are seen, bleatings are heard, and the herd does 
not know what to do with itself for pleasure and joy. 
Thus it was with us: half dead with laughing, we vied 
nevertheless with each other in jumping, with a feeling 
of mad rapture. I often jumped yards-wide into the 
sloping ashes. Sometimes I stopped for a moment, to 
prolong the pleasure and to recover breath for fresh 
laughing, and to observe my companions in the different 
phases of jumping. One was so glad to be once again 
allowed to be a child with all one's heart, and on a lesfiti- 

" o 

mate occasion, and to give unrestrained vent to merriment. 
We were flying, running, and jumping at the same time 
over the ashes. We were rushing madly down the ashy 
hill, like the furies of antiquity, only with this difference, 






FAREWELL TO VESUVIUS. 41 

that our companion was good-humour, not curses. In a 
few minutes we had reached the foot of the cone. The 
number of quarter-hours required for the ascent would 
have represented the number of minutes in descending, if 
one had not stopped now and then. 

Before remounting our horses, we scratched out of the 
ashes and lava a few scanty plants to take with us, but 
unfortunately they afterwards died. We left the awful 
valley. I turned frequently round to look again at old 
Vesuvius, the chemical laboratory of nature, where it is 
permitted to man to approach the primitive powers. 
Before the spectator is a naked bare picture, painted in 
colours, of another world, with a grand and impressive 
vigour. He feels himself re-transplanted to a time, when 
the foot of a race of sinners had not yet made an im- 
pression on the earth, filled with germs of life, when the 
soft mass of clay was not yet animated by the breath of 
the Most High. Still the Spirit of Grod seems to float 
over the land and the waters, musing over the rough 
material before pronouncing the all-stirring words of life, 
' LET IT BE.' Vesuvius is a remnant of chaos. Thus the 
past speaks to us, through the spirit of fire; and also 
gives us a warning of the future. As Grod created, so He 
will destroy. 

As the fire purified, and as out of mist and smoke the 
earth arose in its splendour, and (rod himself enjoyed his 
work and said, ' It is good, so once again will smoke and 
mist arise, and withdraw this foul old ball from the blessed 
eye of the Creator. But let us fly before these awful thoughts 
to the little church of the hermitage, to pray forgiveness 
for our sins. When the whole company was assembled in 
the poor chapel, the priest read the holy mass, and then 
we returned, in quick time, between splendid vineyards, to 
Eesina. The day had become clear, the view still clearer, 
and Naples, amidst the brightest green, washed by the 



42 RECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

laughing sea, lay in full splendour at our feet, before our 
enraptured eyes. 

In the best of humours, happy with what we had accom- 
plished, we were speeding along an excellent road. In 
contrast with our merriment was a corpse carried on an 
open bier, covered only with a cloth, and going to the 
friendly cemetery of Eesina. As everything in Naples is 
done freely and openly, so no coffin encloses the dead 
of the poorer classes. Somewhat tired, and in dreadfully 
disordered clothes, we reached our boat, which awaited us 
at Portici, and which brought us back to the frigate. 

Having rested a little, I had to put on my uniform and 
jump again in a boat to go to Capo di Monte to a diner 
en famille with my aunt and cousin. The afternoon was 
splendid and hot, the city glowing in rich magnificence. 
At the steps of the quay of Santa Lucia the carriage 
was waiting, into which we jumped, surrounded by the 
bustle of people in the most peculiar costumes. One 
must visit Naples to know the meaning of eternal noise, 
continuous activity, and restless life. I was so much oc- 
cupied yesterday with the Via Toledo, with its manifold 
sights, that I quite forgot to mention the royal palace 
and the broad place extending before it ; yet it is per- 
haps, in regard to architecture, the most brilliant thing 
in the city. The facade of the palace towards the Piazza, 
of rough brick walls ornamented with grey stones, is im- 
posing and regal. Under the middle balcony, through a 
wide entrance, the main guard is kept, composed, as it 
seems, of the different military branches. Here, on all 
sides, we see the lilies, intimating that here rules still a 
dying branch of the Bourbons. Over the grandest, as 
over the pettiest work, from the Museo Borbonico to the 
last sentry-box nay, to the neat form of the bad butter 
in the loyal coffee-house 6 Europa ' the ' lily ' waves, and 
seems to be promoted from the humble position of ' the 



THE PALACE OF THE DUKE OF SALERNO. 43 

lily of the fields ' in the time of Solomon, to the highest 
places by the influence of the Bourbons. Though the 
use of this flower is here carried too far, still I love 
these symbolical crests, which remind one of an ancient 
power. Opposite the city fapade of the palace is a large 
church, built of white stone, in the shape of a Greek 
rotunda., from which, to the right and left, branch off wide 
arcades, surrounding a great part of the place. It was 
built ex voto by Ferdinand I. after the recovery of his 
land, robbed from him by the French. As an enemy of 
Greek architecture for the use of Christians, I don't like 
it ; but as heathenish work, it cannot be denied that it 
possesses an imposing harmony. On the right, seen from 
the royal palace, stands another smaller palace, which is 
used to lodge foreign princely visitors. A dwelling was 
allotted to me there, but I preferred my comfortable house. 
On the other side arises the unpretending palace of the 
Duke of Salerno,, rendered so celebrated by its site and 
charming garden. From the sea one observes, peeping over 
the roofs, the tops of beautiful trees. As my uncle had no 
male heirs, this charming residence fell back to the Crown 
after his death. There are on the Piazza two fine eques- 
trian statues of Charles III. and Ferdinand I., which have 
already acquired that greenish-blue hazy colour which no 
art, but time and weather only, can give to bronze. Once 
again through the Via Toledo, with its noisy life, to the 
hill, Capo di Monte, imbedded in green. 

After dinner we strolled through the desolate wide state 
rooms of the stone palace. Taste and comfort, life and 
convenience, are banished from these wide halls. There 
are the stiff straight lines and ornaments of the time of 
the French empire, lacking the warm soul of past ages, 
and spoiling the fine proportions of the interior. There is 
a peculiar picture gallery in this palace, intended to support 
the feeble modern art of Naples. There are, however, 



44 RECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

nothing but frightful subjects of past history and mytho- 
logy ; gaping wounds, dying heroes and heroines, and awful 
corpses fill the rooms of the summer palace, to which they 
are only so far fitted as the extremely natural costumes of 
those represented are fit for the summer season : I never 
saw so perfect a collection of naked bodies in horrid daubs 
as I saw here. To judge from them, art must be indeed 
in a very low and primitive state in this country. 

My aunt invited me to take a drive with her and her 
daughter. Through charming green avenues and laughing 
gardens we rolled along the height of Capo di Monte, to the 
Villa Kegina Isabella, which had become noted on account 
of its site. We soon arrived at the property of the Queen- 
mother. By a long avenue running between oleander, rose- 
bushes, and grape vines, we came to an open place richly 
ornamented with flowers, on which, built in Grecian style, 
the villa stands. We descended from the carriage and 
entered the neat yard of the house. A slim being received 
us in a green dressing-gown, whose tonsure and covering 
for the feet discovered to us the house chaplain. We had 
evidently disturbed his comfortable privacy by our visit. 
He brought us through the pretty rooms of the ground 
floor to a terrace, from which one enjoys perhaps one of 
the finest views on God's wide earth ; it is one of those 
happily selected places, from which the view is not enjoyed 
as a corollary to the splendour around, but where, by the 
excellently selected spot on which one stands, one is 
placed, as it were, outside the picture as an observer and 
admirer ; where the eye is not compelled to squander its 
attention on details, but where all charms, all effects of 
light, combine to one point, and the whole works power- 
fully on the soul in beautiful harmony. On a terrace 
lying higher still, to which we were next led by the eccle- 
siastical custodian, the view around was still more compre- 
hensive. As the last work of an artist dying at the pinnacle 



SUNSET. 45 

of fame is generally the most saturated with his genius, so 
the sun never paints so vividly, never in such glowing tints, 
and with such magic lustre, as when he is parting and 
pressing his last kiss upon earth. He is possessed of the 
secret of creating a longing after his departure, he always 
leaves behind a hope, a desire, to see his golden image 
again ; for the prospect of decay in this world awakens the 
anxious desire of resurrection in another. A still, magni- 
ficent evening was gilding Naples' splendid gulf. 

The villa stands on a free airy height, and from it the 
green ground falls sharply off towards the city and the sea ; 
and it is this point of vantage which heightens so much 
the impression of all seen from it. Vesuvius and the pic- 
turesque mountain chain of Sorrento were bathed in a 
blue haze ; at the foot of the hills shone the different towns 
and villages; and the happy plain betwixt them and 
Naples was like a rich carpet spread between them ; and 
the sinking sun gilded the cupolas and roofs of the capital, 
which was surrounded by a wreath of villas, and by 
the hills of Posilippo, with the southern green of their 
luxuriant gardens. Behind us rose the heights of Camal- 
doli, with the celebrated monastery. Before us a palm 
waved its beautiful and regal head ; beneath us lay the 
Chiaja, with the avenues of the Villa Reale, from which 
the calm mirror of the sea extended in untarnished 
brightness. Looking on this matchless picture, and this 
eternally young nature, in which the fresh flowers of 
Europe mingle with the luxuriant richness of the tropics ; 
looking on this Southern glow, with its Oriental metallic 
light, one recalls the proud saying of the Neapolitans: 
( Napoli e un pezzo del cielo caduto in terra ! ' 

Although the interior rooms of the villa are of very little 
interest to the stranger, we yet looked over them. They 
have the stamp of a mixed household : two spheres of life 
are united in this house, which, though they ought to be 



46 RECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

able to be blended with success, here form a sad and dis- 
cordant state of things. The father of the present king died, 
and his widow, Queen Isabella, married a nobleman of the 
country ; and, after having taken such a step, instead of re- 
tiring with her new husband to some quiet nook of earth, 
she bought this charming villa, that she might stand here 
with one foot in the court and the other in private life. 
She wished to enjoy the leisure and the amusements of a 
private lady, and yet could not renounce the fading splen- 
dour of royalty. She died recently, and left her house at 
the disposal of her husband, who is serving as a colonel in 
the army of his step-son and living in a barrack. The 
Villa Kegina is forsaken now, and its possessor comes only 
from time to time for a short visit. 

It seemed strange to find in the house of a private man 
the family portraits of the Eoyal Family. The whole is 
furnished with a comfort which has not quite renounced its 
former magnificence. Amongst the occasional very costly 
furniture, I was struck by a kind of throne, of which the 
richly-embroidered stuff was surrounded by golden orna- 
ments. Astonished to find such a piece of furniture in a 
drawing-room, I asked the house chaplain who, like a 
genuine Italian, was leading us about sans gene, in his 
mean-looking green dressing-gown, although he must have 
known very well who my aunt was where this rich royal 
arm-chair came from ? He answered that the Queen- 
mother had received it from a Madame Roschilde. It was 
only when he had repeated this name twice, which had in 
his Italian mouth a peculiar sound, that I perceived its 
Hebrew character. In the lower rooms of the house there 
is a kind of universal collection, a small museum, where 
there is something of everything, but nothing particular. 
We thanked the chaplain for the favour of having shown 
us about, and stepped into our light carriage. 

I now became acquainted with one of the greatest 



THE POPULAR NEAPOLITAN VEHICLE. 47 

charms of Naples, the fine wide roads on the heights of 
the Capo di Monte. The present king caused them to be 
built, and ornamented with the most splendid and finely 
arched avenues. Driving through these gigantic leafy 
halls, one could fancy you were in an English park rather 
than in one of the ordinary roads of communication in the 

K 

neighbourhood of a city. It is a beautiful and luxurious 
idea of the King of the Two Sicilies to surround his resi- 
dence with green trees and shrubs, and so to arch over his 
admirable roads with a cool shade. 

It was Sunday ; everywhere was life, everywhere the 
people moved about happily, and on all sides we were 
greeted by the noise of the streets. The peculiar equi- 
pages common to Naples, the two-wheeled cars, with 
the poor little horses, which have to trot along with a 
company of twelve to fourteen persons, throng the centre. 
A Vetturino succeeds in bringing together inside them 
representatives of the most different classes of society. 
In this vehicle one sees the three-cornered hat of the 
servant of the Lord, the sword belt of a Swiss soldier, 
the fluttering coloured ribbons of a Calabrian girl ; the 
cap of a lazzaroni waving by the side of the never- 
resting fan of an old citizen lady ; and here we have the 
problem solved of which I spoke before, of how to find 
room for fourteen human beings in a car originally in- 
tended only for four. On the stiaky seats of the car the 
people do not sit two and two, but three and four are 
closely packed, whilst the driver balances himself on the 
shaft, and alongside of him on the bars of the skeleton of 
the car the youthful world finds a place. Even steps do 
not remain empty, for they are as wide as a human foot. 
Behind the seats, and turning one's back upon the team, one 
has a very good view of the country left behind, although 
this pleasure has to be enjoyed on a very narrow seat. 
But there still remains a place between the two large 



48 RECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

wheels under the bottom of the car, which must be made 
available : a large basket, fastened by chains or ropes, 
hangs there, furnishing another place in which one of the 
passengers rocks most comfortably. With the population 
of such a two-wheeled car one could colonise an island 
very well. Such a vehicle would furnish priests, soldiers, 
peasants, and even beggars. Sounds of bells and of 
speaking, sometimes even instrumental music and singing, 
coming out of a cloud of dust, advise you from a distance 
of the approach of these equipages. 

Hundreds of other comical figures are seen in the lively 
streets ; and especially striking to the stranger are the 
avenues surrounding the city, the Abbati. My aunt and 
cousin were constantly laughing at my exclamations of 
astonishment at the number of priests we met. We met 
a young priest on a tall horse, with his three-cornered 
hat, his long flowing gown, and a hunting whip, and 
another who was driving comfortably a two-wheeled 
equipage. 

On the turnpike road leading to Eome, we passed a 
large plain, on which the military festivities take place. 
Close to the road stands a small building for the Queen, 
from which she may look at these reviews. Along the 
Strada del Campo, passing the large poor-house, we 
crossed the railroad leading to Pompeii, and drove to the 
large quays outside the city. One enjoys this view of the 
plain and of Vesuvius, the outlines of which were marked 
on the delicately tinted evening sky. W T e arrived in the 
city at twilight. This is the moment, when a new and 
doubly animated life commences in Naples, where music 
and rejoicings compensate for the departure of the sun, 
and the absence of its glowing rays. Hundreds of lamps 
and lights are lighted up on the quays, and reflected in the 
sea ; festoons and garlands indicate the different festivals 
of the many churches ; volleys of guns shake the air ; 



THE TEATRO SAN CARLO. 49 

rockets ascend ; wheels of many-coloured fire whiz around 
the Madonnas ; the theatres open their noisy halls ; the 
squeaking of the marionets calls the lazzaroni to a po- 
pular meeting ; hundreds of cooking shops display their 
treasures in the glowing light of crackling flames, or in 
the gloom of little dull lamps. For a few bajocchi the 
hungry people fish in the macaroni basins some smart 
ones do it for nothing and when the stomach is full, 
feel happy under the free blue sky in the delicious 



evening air. 



Over all the rejoicings of the city, over all its busy life, 
sails calmly, through the blue sea of ether, the full, ma- 
jestic moon, the ancient witness of night life, which looks 
with good-natured mockery on the merry restlessness of 
this hot-blooded people, who continue the brightness and 
the stir of the day to that part of it allotted to rest. The 
hundreds of lamps fade to little sparks before the over- 
powering light of the moon. She has lost the red glow 
with which she appeared behind the vapours of Vesuvius, 
and mirrors her pure and faultless countenance in the 
still surface of the gulf. She is calmly enthroned on the 
wide firmament, like a beautiful proud woman, conscious 
of her sublime and incontestable victory. The sun is the 
star of a fresh new life, of aspiring thoughts ; he warms 
and makes young again; at his departure sad longings 
take possession of the heart; but the moon is the constel- 
lation of memory and of delightful melancholy ! She 
brings back again the dreams of the past ; in her pure 
mild mirror pass slowly and softly visions of happier times, 
and memories of blissful moments. 

The evening was devoted to one of the greatest celebri- 
ties of Naples, the Teatro San Carlo. This grand theatre 
owes its origin to the genial pomp-loving Charles III., 
who had it built in 1738 in 270 days, after which rapid 

VOL. I. E 



50 RECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

creation it was solemnly opened on the day of St. Charles, 
the birthday of the founder. It was afterwards rebuilt in 
1816, having been destroyed by fire. 

I know nothing of the question of feet and inches, but 
when I entered the large, beautifully illuminated hall, it 
produced on me at once the impression of being the most 
imposing theatre I had ever seen. Six tiers with thirty- 
two boxes in each, rise one upon the other, embellished 
abundantly by columns and rich golden ornaments on a 
red ground. The stage is of unusual width and height, 
reaching to the second tier and arching up to the ceiling 
of the theatre. The brightness of the golden ornaments 
has become somewhat subdued by time, which gives to the 
house a most dignified appearance. These ornaments are 
moulded in the pomp-loving taste of the last century. 
The house is just lighted to the right point, and has not 
the exaggerated eye- blinding tendency of our more modern 
theatres. Opposite the stage, over the main entrance, 
under a heavy canopy richly covered with golden lilies, is 
the large court box ; it rests majestically on the crowns of 
two golden palm trees, the old Egyptian model of the 
column. To the left from the entrance, close to the stage, 
are four boxes thrown in one, for the general use of the 
royal family. There is a curious custom here, that on the 
appearance of a royal prince in the theatre, a soldier 
steps forward on the stage with his gun, turns, in face of 
the whole audience, towards the royal scion, presents 
arms, and looks at him continually till relieved, which is 
done every five minutes. ' So many countries, so many 
customs ! ' an old, never-to-be-forgotten saying. The 
theatre is filling more and more ; in the pit fans rustle and 
wave ; but it is not the fair sex, only, who handle them. 
No ! they are the rough hands of men who, compelled 
by the heat, call to their aid the weapons of coquetry. 
The gentler portion of the children of earth is banished 



COUNT AQUILA. 51 

from the Platea,* a moral custom, the introduction of 
which would not be amiss in other cities. The impres- 
sion of the whole theatre is very fine. How I wished 
within myself, to be able to transplant it into our own 
dear capital ! There is something of the time of Louis 
XIV. in these wide halls, built by one of his successors, to 
whom also descended a part of his pomp-loving and cre- 
ative mind. The works of that spirit remain, but the 
spirit itself has vanished with his times. How beautiful 
would it be if this theatre resounded with enthusiastic 
applause, with patriotic exclamations, or with the strains 
of a national hyrnn, instead of resounding with one of 
these Italian Operas, which I love so little ! 

Eoadstead of Naples, August 11, 1851. 

We had not rested more than a few hours, when we had 
again to start. It was one of the finest mornings when our 
boat carried us to the interior harbour, chiefly reserved for 
the men-of-war, where Count Aquila, the brother of the 
King, was waiting for us on a war-steamer, 'Fiera-mosca,' to 
carry us to the King at Grae'ta. Count Aquila was standing 
on deck, surrounded by his officers, and I there had the first 
opportunity of making his acquaintance. He is not tall, 
and a little too stout for his age, but his features have the 
noble spirited form of the Bourbons. He is at the head 
of the navy, and devotes himself to his profession with 
extraordinary zeal and great knowledge. He has already 
had the good fortune to make two voyages to the Brazils ; 
on the last one he attended his sister the Empress there, 
and brought home for himself a transatlantic bride, a sister 
of the Emperor. During my longer stay in Naples I be- 
came more acquainted with him, and learned to value him 
as a clever and very agreeable young man. He wins the 
hearts of all those with whom he comes in contact, by 

* Pit. 

2 



52 KECOLLECT10XS OF MY LIFE. 

his unaffected and lively manner. Besides being a most 
ardent sailor, he is a great lover of horses, and has in- 
troduced, with much success, English fox-hunting into 
Naples, without ever having been in England. 

The signal was given, and our large and powerful 
steamer sailed majestically from the harbour near the royal 
palace into the beautiful gulf. Our way ran along the pic- 
turesque shores of Puzzuoli and Baiae, and we soon saw 
these two towns shining on the wide secure bay, in which 
appeared the small rock-island crowned by a monastery. 
The pillars and single arches of the old Eoman bridge, by 
which the tyrannical Emperor Nero intended to manifest 
his power over the elements, arose out of the sea. The 
tuffastone of the hills on the shore glittered like gold, and 
exhibited every .variety of form ; the sky was blue and 
pure, the sea still bluer. We approached the island of 
Procida to enter the high sea by passing between it and 
the continent. The island is small, but very picturesque, 
on account of the undulations of the ground. The costume 
of its female inhabitants, which retains its old Grecian type, 
is the most remarkable in the whole kingdom. The voyage 
from here to Gaeta is of little interest; the four hours 
required to go there from Naples passed in pleasant con- 
versation with Count Aquila, who in a short time succeeded 
in completely captivating my heart. The ship, although 
intended for war, offered all possible conveniences. Being 
quite new, its cannons were not yet aboard, but some of 
the most heavy calibre were expected, to ornament the 
deck. The ' Fiera-mosca ' has, notwithstanding her 
youth, a singular history. She was ordered in England 
by the Sicilian revolutionists, and when their regiment 
fell under the royal shells, and the white banner waved 
again on the walls of Messina, Lord Palmerston would not 
permit the ship, which had been finished only after the 
revolution, to quit England. The firmness of the Nea- 



GAETA. 53 

politan Government succeeded at last in getting it as a 
lawful prize, and now it is one of the finest ships of the 
royal fleet. Officers and crew had an excellent sailor-like 
appearance, and, from the order prevailing everywhere, 
one might draw favourable conclusions in reference to the 
value of the Neapolitan navy. 

One could now see in faint outlines the mountain behind 
Gaeta ; these outlines became more distinct, and the blue 
haze of the distance broke up into light tints, and single 
masses of houses appeared ; the projecting rock forming 
the base of the fortress was seen distinctly, and at the 
foot of the rock washed by the sea, Gaeta, the princely 
asylum, the protector of tottering crowns. One can 
imagine how eager I was to see the place of which the 
name has been rendered famous by the events of the year 
1818; this pool in which anchored the little ship of 
St. Peter, for protection against the storms of the world. 
The widely opened gates of hell, it was believed, had 
already swallowed up the glittering tiara, and the head 
of Christianity was overthrown, never to rise again ; but 
from among dark clouds it thundered mightily, and the 
scornful varlets of the prince of this world tremblingly 
heard a voice calling to them : ' Tu es Petrus, et super 
hanc Petram sedificabo ecclesiam meam, et portae Inferi 
non praevalebunt adversus earn ! ' The sun was shining 
on the picturesque although bare rocks, the houses at 
their foot glittering brightly. We had entered the bay; 
I looked out in vain for the residence of the King ; I 
expected, at least, to find a tolerably pretty villa ; at last 
Aquila showed me two little houses connected with each 
other immediately behind the wall of the fortress, over 
which only a few windows under the roofs were to be 
seen. That was the place where King Ferdinand dwelt. 
The ruler of Naples lived in a bare place in two patched- 
up little houses, behind the stifling bastion dotted with 



54 RECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

cannon, scarcely offering room for his numerous family. 
Who would believe that the same prince possesses those 
beautifully situated palaces, the mighty Capo di Monte, the 
crown of Naples ; Caserta, Portici, and Quisisana, palaces 
which would be envied by many greater monarchs ; and 
yet he found his sans souci in a rocky nest. But, no 
doubt, the quiet retirement of Gaeta possesses many quali- 
ties to win the hearts of the royal couple. The King feels 
grateful to this rock, on which his weary head finds quiet 
and rest. He occupies himself with military matters here, 
where he has time and leisure for it, and daily strengthens 
the already powerful protection afforded to him by the for- 
tress. On the other hand, the Queen loves to live in her 
family, which she can do, to her heart's content, at Graeta. 
Several fine men-of-war were lying in the bay, and 
saluted on our arrival. Amidst the sounds of music and 
the cheering of the sailors the anchor was cast, and the 
boat, with some well-bestarred grandees of the army 
and navy, attended us from the ship, to land us at a 
small gate in the wall of the fortress, where we were 
received by some chiefs of the court. We slipped through 
the narrow gate, and found ourselves suddenly under 
the gates of the residence. A tall strong man, with short 
cropped hair and beard, and with a laced three-cor- 
nered hat, received us ; my good genius whispered to 
me that 'it was the King. Indeed, it must have been 
a higher revelation, for I had imagined King Ferdinand 
to be a different man. His figure still floated before 
me indistinctly, as I saw him fifteen years ago in 
Vienna, when he was a young man of twenty-six years of 
age. Now, to be sure, he was forty-one, but, from his 
appearance, one would have taken him for a man consider- 
ably above fifty ; so much has the destroying power of the 
South and the influence of the years of revolution worked 
upon him. Later, when I had an opportunity of examin- 



KING FERDINAND. 55 

ing him more closely, I recognised the features of his 
youth, but his fine black hair had turned grey and his face 
had become wrinkled. He wore the rather plain uniform of 
one of his regiments of Grenadiers, which he prefers, I 
was told, to all others since the revolution. The riband 
of the Austrian Order of St. Stephen was hanging over his 
shoulder. He received me in the most friendly manner, 
and conducted me directly to the Queen. It was fifteen t 
years ago since she also had said farewell to her country, 
when she left home a blooming and graceful figure. Since 
that period the German princess had become an Italian, 
and a mother of nine children ; one therefore can imagine 
how she had changed. She is a little slim lady, and, 
though she has a resemblance to her father, and to her 
sisters and brothers, the Nassau vian features still prevail. 
She seems to be very serious and quiet, is wrapped up en- 
tirely in her children, and, I was told, loves seclusion. 
The King formerly found entertainment in festivities, but 
since his second marriage, and especially since the revolu- 
tion, the large state-rooms have been only opened for the 
tedious drawing-rooms on birth- and name-day festivities, 
and on New Year's Day. On these occasions the King 
and his family receive the congratulations of the grandees 
and Government officers, and both gentlemen and ladies 
must perform the so-called baccia-mano. I must men- 
tion how highly I was astonished when, on my first ap- 
pearance as a prince in this kingdom, I saw the highest in 
the land bend their left knee before me, and hold out their 
hand towards my right one with a movement like that 
which is made, perhaps, before the holy water. Not used 
to such a thing, and utterly unprepared, I felt most dis- 
agreeably affected by the ceremony ; I made the most 
comical excuses, and tried to escape. Some of the good 
people listened to reason, but others insisted on this ex- 
pression of their respect. 



56 RECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

When the usual formalities were dispatched, and I had 
been invited by the Queen to take a seat on the sofa, the 
numerous royal children entered from a side door. There 
are nine living, six sons and three daughters, the crown 
prince being the only issue of the first marriage of the 
King. The crown prince is rather a tall young man of 
fifteen, but still a boy both in manners and dress, very 
much resembling his cousin the Duke of Modena; his 
brown eyes are good-natured, his features gentle, and his 
figure small. In some of the other children the Austrian 

o 

blood can be seen, especially in the three sons, who imme- 
diately follow the crown prince, and who look very bright. 
The daughters have soft kindly faces, but not one of 
them is strikingly handsome. A peculiar taste of the 
King, with which the Queen is not at all pleased, is to have 
almost all the hair of the children shaved off. I was 
quite a stranger to the royal family, who knew very little 
of their more recent relations in Austria, and therefore I 
had frequently to carry on the conversation alone, which 
not unfrequently came even to a stop. At last the King 
himself graciously led me to the rooms prepared for me, 
where I was left to myself till the dinner hour. The 
rooms in which the royal couple live are small and plain, 
nay, I might say, too plain, particularly as regards the 
furniture ; one might be inclined to take the dwelling 
for one of a not very high officer ; plain furniture stands 
in the rooms, a few antiquated nicknacks fill the table, 
and on the papered walls hang large English prints, repre- 
senting tiger and bear hunts, such as are perhaps to be 
found in the apartments of our bachelors ; each window 
has its balcony enclosed by smooth iron rails. On stepping 
out on one of them one looks out immediately on the 
narrow dirty street, whilst from another one sees the 
bastion of the fortress, which, if I had to live in these 
rooms, would be a little oppressive to me. From the 



COUNT LUDOLF. 57 

windows of the new part of the house in which my rooms 
were situated, one has a view of an ugly old house, at the 
few windows of which may be seen the disagreeable details 
of a provincial household, and now and then the wrinkled 
face of an old woman. This house, however, is soon to be 
removed, and the bulwark extended; then one will have, 
as from the rooms of the Queen, a view of the bay and its 
bare hills. From the back part of the house, towards the 
great rock, one can, from the upper story, step on a garden 
terrace, where, with great pains, a grape-vine arbour and 
several trees and plants are made to grow. Though there 
are not any rare flowers in the many vases and pots stand- 
ing about, yet this narrow place offers, in my opinion, the 
chief attraction of the house. If one has no view from 
the little garden, yet it ascends in lovely terraces up the 
rocks, beautifully connecting the vines with the walls and 
the yard of the house. I availed myself of the time re- 
maining till dinner to pay a visit to the crown prince. 
The poor young man is very timid, which may arise partly 
from the manner in which he is educated ; he is kept out 
of the world, that he mav remain child-like. When he 

/ 

comes of age next winter the prince will have his own 
household, and it is said Count Ludolf will be placed at 
his side. The Count is one of the few presentable beings 
at the court of Naples. He was Neapolitan minister at 
the Apostolic See; came to Graeta in 1849, was liked by 
the royal couple, and is now as a kind of ' maitre de plaisir 
in partibus,' vegetating in the royal court, which is said to 
be very simple ; so much so, that a man like Ludolf, who 
succeeds in spinning out of the merest trifle a whole string 
of pleasant phrases, can make a great sensation. At meals 
and in the promenade the old gentleman must amuse the 
Queen, and dish up innocent remarks and anecdotes of his 
political career. 

The King is very busy ; and, as is frequently the case with 



58 EECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

people who work all day, is fond of a commonplace, insig- 
nificant company. He is of the same opinion as that great 
French statesman, who, when asked how he could associate 
with such utterly insignificant company, answered, ' Je me 
repose.' Ludolf is therefore the only one who is in some 
way an exception ; this may be the reason why he is 
assigned to the Crown Prince. The habits he has formed 
as a diplomatist in various situations will be of service to 
him in his new career. 

At dinner a part of the suite appeared, who were most 
peculiar figures. The cooking was Italian, and therefore 
not much to my taste ; in my eyes the everlasting Naples 
macaroni alone gave brightness to the table. One can 
understand how this dish may be eaten by high and low, 
all day and every day. I am sorry that I could not 
ascertain whether in this fine kingdom macaroni is substi- 
tuted for bread in the prayers. The King, to my greatest 
astonishment, ordered cigars after dinner, and compelled 
us, notwithstanding our remonstrances, to smoke in the 
presence of the Queen. 

Since our arrival at Graeta the weather had become thick ; 
a heavy thunder-storm was raging among the high moun- 
tains, and on the opposite shore of the bay, dark clouds 
were looming, which on breaking, dissolved in a beneficial 
rain, mitigating the heat of the day ; so that the intentions 
of the King to make a trip with me, were delayed foi some 
time. 

After the rain had at last subsided a little, the King in- 
vited me to take a drive in the fortress. The Queen, also, 
who was most kind, and who condescended to address me 
always in Grerman, which is said to be an extremely rare case, 
joined us. The King, the Queen, his three eldest sons and 
myself, stepped into a light char-a-banc, whilst the rest 
of the company followed in other equipages. We were 
driving along the enclosure of the town to the landgate 



THE FORTRESS OF GAETA. 50 

not far off, when we saw a great number of prisoners in 
scarlet dress and with heavy chains, who were working at 
the repairs of the wall; they were military prisoners, 
expiating important crimes. 

Immediately outside the landgate there was a detachment 
of cavalry, which generally escorts the King in his drives. 
To-day, however, I suppose in honour of me, he waved 
them off. Outside the enclosure one comes at once upon 
a bare narrow isthmus, forming the connection between 
land and rock. Towards this ground, from which a land- 
attack would have to be made, the fortress has steep 
enclosures of natural rock walls, which surround the 
fortress towards the high sea to the entrance of the 
bay. Two years ago thousands and thousands assembled, 
the people of the surrounding country and the Neapo- 
litan troops met here. A poor fugitive from the heights 
of this fortress, from a spot marked by an inscription 
in marble, gave them the only good thing left to him 
to give by the evil nature of the times, to wit, the Apos- 
tolic blessing. A second time Pius stood on the rock 
of the fortress, and again he pronounced the benediction ; 
but this time to a multitude that promised him help to 
the Spanish troops sent by the most Catholic queen, and 
who had landed at Graeta to receive the Papal blessing. I 
am assured by eye-witnesses, that it was a most imposing 
spectacle to see the prince of the church, in his simple 
white garments, standing aloft on the ramparts of the 
fortress, pronouncing the blessing on vast numbers of 
the faithful, who, wrapt in devotion, bent their heads 
before him. The place seems made for such a solemn and 
august act. 

We returned to the fortress, and visited its single bas- 
tions. The King is improving them constantly, and indeed 
they seem to be very strong. In one of these new avenues 
the wife of a condemned criminal, with a little boy on her 



GO EECOLLECTIOXS OF MY LIFE. 

arm, rushed towards the carriage of the King and clung to 
it, crying and shrieking, and would not let go, notwith- 
standing the danger of her being crushed by the wheels. 
At last a soldier caught her arm, on which the poor raving 
woman dropped her naked boy on the ground, and flung 
herself on him in wild grief. The scene was a sad one, 
and illustrated the strong, perhaps exaggerated, feelings of 
the people of the South. Both here and in Naples I fre- 
quently saw the people appeal immediately to the King 
and the Princes, and hand petitions to them whilst in 
their carriage. 

Near the surrounding wall, towards the land, is a mo- 
nastery, belonging to a peculiar kind of Franciscans, not 
known with us. The King entered with us. At the en- 
trance was a chapel, before which the Koyal Family knelt 
down to say a short prayer. By a cross walk, adorned with 
pictures, before which my august guides crossed them- 
selves, we came to another chapel, in which knees were 
again bent. From this chapel we came to a chasm in the 
rock, about four feet wide, and reaching from the top of 
the hill to the surface of the sea ; this is said to have 
opened at the great earthquake which took place at the 
moment when Christ died. This peculiar narrow deep 
chasm is perhaps the greatest curiosity in Grae'ta ; whether 
its origin is miraculous I cannot decide, and leave the 
explanation of this phenomenon to the scornful infidel. 

A small staircase leads through this awfully narrow 
place to a little church, built on a vault over the chasm. 
In the right-hand wall of the rock is to be seen the 
impression of five fingers, said to have been caused by a 
Mahometan, who, when told of the miracle, said that 
he despised this soft stone, and struck with his hand 
against the rock, which, tradition says, henceforth retained 
the impression of his fingers. Overpowered by this miracle, 
he allowed himself to be baptized with the water, which 



A FRANCISCAN MONASTERY. Gl 

suddenly trickled out of a small opening in the stone wall. 
The same little spring still runs, and the devotees cross 
themselves with it as with holy water. In the chapel, in 
which there is the Host, a short devotion was again per- 
formed. From a window to the right of the altar one 
sees how the sea has entered the chasm. It is said that 
the French under Napoleon intended to take the fortress 
by help of this cleft, which was not necessary, as, a short 
time afterwards, the commander of the place, the Prince of 
Hesse-Philippsthal, died by a French bullet, after which 
the garrison surrendered. 

Before leaving the monastery, the King, with his wife 
and children, knelt again at the entrance chapel. These 
genuflexions, made so repeatedly, might be thought ridi- 
culous with us, but in the Southern country it is the 
general custom to express one's feelings in a more lively 
manner ; and as the great are ever bending their knee 
before the King and his family, so the King prostrates 
himself before the only Being that is above him. 

We returned now to the little town, to inspect one of 
the batteries before it. I was shown a mean-looking house, 
which has become renowned by the shelter it gave to the 
Pope; it is immediately beside an inn, where the holy 
Father, on his clandestine arrival, late in the evening, could 
not find a lodging. In the simple attire of an abbate he 
alighted upon this modest private house, upon which the 
Bavarian minister, Count Spaur, who attended him, sent 
at once a letter to the King of Naples with the news of the 
arrival. The sun had scarcely risen over the mountains of 
Grae'ta, when a steamer cast anchor in view of the fortress, 
and the King with his wife and his children threw them- 
selves at the feet of the Lieutenant of Christ. He had 
received the news of the arrival of the Pope in the 
middle of the night, and at three o'clock in the morning 
he left his palace at Naples to greet the father of Chris- 



62 RECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

tianity as his guest, and to lead him at once to a house 
formerly inhabited by the King on his trips to Gaeta. 
Soon fresh fugitives arrived ; the Grand-Duke of Tuscany 
and his family also sought protection behind the walls of 
Gaeta. The house in which they alighted is close to the 
above-mentioned battery, and is, like the other places of 
this town that have become historical, provided with Latin 
inscriptions. The Grand-Duke moved later to ' Mola di 
Gaeta,' where he lived in the villa of the great Cicero. 

Gaeta could scarcely hold the guests pouring in from 
all sides. Fugitive court-households, numberless diplo- 
mats and cardinals had to find room in the little town. 
To get, under such circumstances, a tolerably good room 
was one of the happy events of the moment. The above- 
mentioned Count Ludolf told me that he in his room, of 
which the furniture consisted of a bed and two chairs, 
received in one night the unexpected visit of six cardinals. 

We drove now to an eminence where there is a mili- 
tary school established by the King. The boys, to the 
number of more than eight hundred, were all marshalled 
on the road, and looked perfectly healthy and cheerful. 
This institution, which is not yet in order, had scarcely 
been established when soldiers from all parts sent in their 
petitions for the admission of their children. The King 
finds it difficult to refuse any request of his much-beloved 
army, and thus the pupils increased to the great number 
just mentioned, without arrangements having been made 
to give them a perfect education. 

From this rocky height on which we stood, a staircase, 
ornamented with vases, many flowers and vine-garlands, 
led through the little garden back to the house of the 
King. It was time for us to think of our return. I took 
leave of the royal couple, thanked them for their cordial 
reception, and returned with Aquila on board the ( Fiera- 
mosca,' as the day waned, in four hours to Naples. Supper- 



THE 'CAFE EUROrA.' f,g 

time excepted, I was almost always on deck, in conversation 
with my amiable cousin, who had to tell me many interest- 
ing things. 

Eoadstead of Naples, August 12, 1851. 

Very much fatigued by the exertions of the preceding 
days, we were glad to pass this morning more quietly, 
visiting the shops of Naples. Every city has its peculiar 
productions, for which strangers at once enquire. Who 
would not ask in Naples for the nicely-cut corals ? With 
this object in view, we made an excursion from the quay 
of Santa Lucia towards the Villa Keale, and from there 
into the street Santa Catarina. The first shop we visited 
was on the quay of Santa Lucia, and contained chiefly 
clay copies of Etruscan vases, of which I bought several 
very little specimens ; but the best we saw were in the 
street Santa Catarina, and on the place before the Villa 
Eeale. They consisted in sundry nicknacks of corals, 
amongst which the celebrated Jettatura-hands, and very 
nice little views of beautiful Naples and its environs, 
painted with much skill in oil-colours, recalling the lively 
picturesque tints for which the gulf is famous. Having 
done with our purchase, we went into the ' cafe Europa,' 
to wait there for the departure of the railway train, as we 
intended to steam to Pompeii in the afternoon. 

Who would imagine that the principal coffee-house in 
Naples is not in the least to be compared in beauty to the 
coffee-houses in the suburbs of Vienna ? The ' cafe Europa ' 
is, notwithstanding its proud name, a dirty and small 
vaulted room with bad furniture, in which the painted 
ceiling and all the frames of the looking-glasses are 
covered with gauze, as a protection against the number- 
less flies. A horrible ' dame de buffet ' stands behind a 
wooden bulwark, watching like a dragon the movements 
of the comers. We refreshed ourselves with orange-granit, 



G4 RECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

a refreshment suitable to the climate, consisting of half- 
frozen orange-juice and sugar; I preferred it by far to the 
celebrated 'gelati di Napoli,' which, in my opinion, are 
not equal to those in Vienna. We had scarcely rested a 
little, when Field-marshal Lieutenant Martini came to tell 
us, that we could only go at a later time to Pompeii, and 
proposed to visit meanwhile the Museo Borbonico, where 
we proceeded at once. 

The Museo Borbonico, one of the few imposing build- 
ings of Naples, is, like Capo di Monte, built of red bricks 
and grey stones. It is, like most of the buildings of Italy, 
of the new Eoman style ; its foundation stone was laid by 
the Duke of Osuna, viceroy of the Spanish King, and was 
then intended for a grand riding-school. 

Later viceroys continued the building, and, in 1616, 
under the lieutenancy of Don Pedro de Castro, Count of 
Lemos, the university was transferred to it. After having 
been used also as a tribunal and a barrack, it was in 
1816 used for its present purpose by King Ferdinand I., 
and there he brought together all the antiquities of the 
country, hitherto scattered in different places. The large 
imposing vestibule, from the sides of which extend the 
squares, is ornamented with colossal antique statues ; to 
the right and the left of the chief entrance, leading to the 
wide and beautiful staircase, are the casts of the equestrian 
statues of Charles III. and Ferdinand I., standing on the 
piazza before the residence. 

Our time was, however, too short to do more than run 
through the most remarkable rooms of this interesting col- 
lection, and we occupied ourselves with the antiques only. 
The mediaeval works and the collection of pictures we left 
unexamined. We commenced with the marble and bronze 
statues, amongst which I was struck by many great treasures 
of art. The most celebrated work of Naples, the so-called 
f Toro Farnese,' is one of the largest groups that remain 



THE FARNESIAX HERCULES. 65 

to us from antiquity. It is hewn out of a single block of 
Grecian marble, and represents Dirce before the eyes of 
another female figure, being tied by two young men to a 
furious bull. The spirit of Greece breathes through this 
splendid masterpiece ; Grecian vigour is exhibited in these 
artistic figures. What inimitable life there is in the furious 
bull roaring between the two athletic figures, whilst despair 
is expressed in the figure as well as the face of Dirce, who is 
prostrate before the bull and attached to it by her luxuriant 
hair. I can scarcely name another work of art in which 
there is such true life, and where the cold block has been 
made to yield such a genial group. The vigorous female 
figure standing at the side also deserves notice, and amongst 
the smaller animals belonging to the group a greyhound 
is remarkable for its light excellent work. I looked long 
at this artistic group, and became still more and more 
convinced that the Greeks were endowed with that creative 
power which changes marble into flesh and blood, and 
animates the dead stone with an ardent spirit and deep 
life-like truth. 

Opposite this group stands the celebrated Farnesian 
Hercules, a statue much spoken of both in ancient and in 
modern time. The strength expresses itself symbolically 
in the exactly drawn, anatomically correct muscles ; it is 
a work which has acquired so much fame that one feels 
scarcely at liberty to speak of it otherwise than with 
praise, and yet it has in my eyes two faults : the moulding 
of the muscles is exaggerated, one might say unnatural, 
and the head appears too small for the massive figure ; 
but this may perhaps have been done purposely by Glykon, 
who may have thought by these means to render more 
prominent the figure of the god of strength. This marble 
statue, as well as the group before mentioned, were both 
found in the baths of Caracalla in Rome. 

The gallery of Flora is named after the colossal statue 
VOL. i. F 



66 RECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

of this goddess. This work proves that Eoinan art has 
also produced great things. The large voluptuous figure 
of Flora exhibits in her pure noble features mildness and 
dignity; a light tunic enables us to admire through its 
splendid drapery the symmetry of the limbs, and seems 
to be of a transparent material. One almost overlooks a 
Juno and a Minerva which stand in this hall, and hurries 
to the celebrated mosaic, which so justly attracts the eyes 
of the stranger. Of its kind it is one of the most extensive 
works that has been preserved to us, and although it is 
still surpassed in size by the mosaic in the court-garden 
of Athens, this one has the preference in the eyes of an- 
tiquaries, in possessing the advantage of representing a 
historical scene, the battle on the Issus between Alexander 
and Darius. As a mosaic, it is of an extraordinary value 
in regard to colour and design ; but it appears to me 
rather stiff and cold. It has been excavated at Pompeii 
in the so-called house of the Faun. In another hall there 
is the statue often repeated in a smaller size, of a dolphin, 
which, with its curled upright tail, playfully embraces a 
Cupid. I must also mention the hall of Jupiter, in which 
a splendid torso of a Psyche of extraordinary softness and 
beauty is to be found. 

No gallery in the world can boast of such a large 
collection of splendid bronzes ; but there is also no other 
country besides Naples which can show three old-world 
towns delivered over to modern times hermetically closed. 
Striking, indeed, above all is the statue of the intoxicated 
Faun. It is at once spirited and full of humour, and 
executed with great truth and ingenuity. Two wrestlers 
are distinguished by the fine movement in their bodies. 
Then there is a sleeping and a dancing Faun, and a very 
sweet, lovely Venus. But one of the greatest masterpieces 
is a reposing Mercury, deserving, indeed, the praise of con- 
noisseurs, from its excellent pose, and the easy rest of its 



POMPEIAN ENCAUSTIC PAINTINGS. 67 

limbs. An antique head of a horse, and two most lovely 
nearly life-sized roes, in which, even in the cold metal 
you recognise the soft timid step and the nodding of their 
heads, could scarcely be represented more truly and more 
like life. You may see a curiosity in this branch of the 
bronzes in a very large basin of an antique aqueduct, in 
which, on shaking it, you may, notwithstanding the two 
thousand years that have elapsed, hear the splashing of 
the water which is inside. 

The greatest treasures which art owes to Pompeii are 
the numberless encaustic paintings, and these were to me 
the most interesting objects of the museum. From them 
may be seen how correctly and genially the Romans drew, 
not softly and indistinctly, but in a truly artistic manner, 
with those firm marked lines which give a distinct character 
to a drawing. There are to be seen, amongst these objects 
of art, the most lovely genre pictures, the most interesting 
historical paintings, and even well executed still-life. A 
new branch of antique art was opened to me by this col- 
lection. I had frequently regretted that the paintings of 
the ancients could not resist the influence of time, and yet 
found myself now placed in the middle of them, seized 
with astonishment and admiration. I am sorry that I had 
not time and leisure to examine the details more fully ; 
but I could see that the Romans, the pupils, indeed, of the 
great Greeks, deserved our admiration in the art of paint- 
ing ; for what must have been the best masters of their 
time, if even such little towns as those buried by Vesuvius 
could show such excellent drawings ! One of the most 
lovely remains of this branch of art is the celebrated 
Female Dancers, a painting of great delicacy, and charm- 
ingly executed on a dark ground. How masterly are the 
movements of the figures, how light and delicate the 
drapery ! A little picture, representing a parrot drawing a 
car driven by a grasshopper, proves that the serious Roman 

F 2 



63 KECOLLECTIOXS OF MY LIFE. 

also indulged in caricature. The parrot represents Nero, 
who is driven by the grasshopper Seneca. 

The museum also possesses a most excellent collection 
of mosaic pictures ; and its fine Etruscan vases and collec- 
tions of many Pompeian utensils excite admiration and 
interest. Amongst the utensils may be seen some of the 
most curious and the most odd, which the fine ashy ruin 
of Vesuvius has so excellently preserved for us. Arms, 
utensils for eating and for sacrifices, chirurgical instru- 
ments, objects of the toilet, nay, even rouge, eatables, 
seeds, colours, and many other curious things are to be 
seen in the large, wide glass cases of the museum, piled up 
in boundless quantity. We were also shown a very fine 
collection of cameos (though not to be compared to that 
in Vienna), in which there is only one large cameo, an 
offering cup, in which is worked a splendid Medusa head. 
The size of the stone and the value of the work almost 
make it a companion to the celebrated triumph of Augustus, 
the largest cameo in the world, and which is the pearl of 
the Vienna collection. Before leaving the museum and 
going by rail to Pompeii, I should mention three things 
large staircase of the museum, the papyrus collec- 



tion from Herculaneum, and the large hall of the library. 
The first is wide, and beautifully planned, but what struck 
me most in it was a large statue standing in the middle. 
Looking on it from a distance, I took it for a Minerva ; 
but, on stepping nearer, the features of the goddess became 
marked and old, and I was told that it was the statue of 
Ferdinand I. by Canova. This work, to be sure, is one of 
the most indifferent of this much -praised artist, and it 
looks most odd to see a by no means handsome male 
figure attired in the long garment and the large helmet of 
the goddess. The collection of the papyrus deserves to 
be noticed particularly for the ingenious manner in which 
the papyrus rolls, which have been carbonised, have been 



POMPEII. 69 

read and preserved. The carbonised mass is slightly 
moistened with gum, and by means of fine brushes is deli- 
cately pasted on gold-beaters' skin, and in this way it is 
slowly unrolled. A Neapolitan priest, Antonio Ciaggi, is 
the inventor of this process, and notwithstanding the exer- 
tions of France and England, it is, up to the present time, 
the only means of making these rolls, so important to his- 
tory and art, readable. Already more than five hundred 
of them have been unrolled in this manner, of which a 
great number have been published. I mention the hall of 
the library for its extraordinary size and height, and for the 
correct meridian placed here by Professor Caselli in 1791. 

Noon had passed, and we went to the small, mean- 
looking railway station at the end of the town, from which 
the railroad goes to Nocera, via Portici. We entered the 
small but elegant carriages of this miniature line, to 
steam to one of the finest tracts in the world. On our 
right was the sea with its oft described shores, to the left 
the rich plain, then the hills of Vesuvius, from which peep 
between the lava the fresh luxuriant grape vine, and a good 
many pleasant houses, defying the Damocles sword always 
hanging over them. After the slow train had meandered 
through the artificially made ravines of the lava, the eye 
perceived with delight a new valley of exquisite loveliness, 
extending from the sea between the hills of Casteliamare 
and Vesuvius ; it is the fertile Valle di Nocera, in which 
Pompeii is situated, at the foot of Vesuvius. 

When we were passing near Vesuvius, immediately on 
the shores of the sea, we saw a very amusing picture. 
Several boys bathing on the gently sloping shore, as naked 
as God had created them, came out of the water on seeing 
the train arrive, and rolled themselves in the dark sand, 
so that face and body became as black as coal. Uncouth 
as the joke was, we could not help laughing heartily, and 
threw them money and oranges out of the window. 



70 KECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

With a holy awe we approached the town of the ancient 
Komans. As it was dug out of the ashes, it lies so deep 
that it is to be seen only when one is immediately before 
it. Through a narrow street of dead houses, we came 
to the principal place, the Forum, with the Basilica and 
several temples. This space is, as it were, the exchange 
of the ancients. It interested me much to see the nature 
of the columns, which were made of bricks coated with 
stucco, showing that the Eomans used this paltry manner 
of building, which was not known to the Greeks. By the 
side of the Basilica stands a house distinguished by the 
view from it, and which we examined in its details. Like 
all the houses in Pompeii, it has such small rooms that one 
cannot understand how people could move about in them. 
The rooms are situated round an open court (atrium), orna- 
mented, like the other parts of the house, with mosaics and 
in the centre of which is a small sunk place for the rain 
water (impluvium). Notwithstanding the confined space, 
the inmates were strictly separated from each other ; the 
men had their andronitis, the women their gynseconitis, and 
there were besides also the coenacula for the slaves; the 
provisions, cellars, and the cisterns were underneath the 
atrium. 

All the houses of the city of the dead are arranged for 
the most part in the same manner, some a little more 
ornamented than others, some are adorned with fine wells 
in the shape of shells with small mosaics ; on many walls 
are still to be seen traces of lovely paintings and orna- 
ments; but all the proportions are so small that it may 
be supposed that the inhabitants of Pompeii lived, like 
the Neapolitans, very much in the streets. They had, 
however, their forum, a large fine place, surrounded on 
the right and the left with temples, upon which Vesuvius 
looks admonishingly, and from which one enjoys in 
full measure those wonderful views which are the prin- 



POMPEII. 71 

cipal charm of Pompeii. In all its temples and public 
buildings I see nothing grand or sublime. The Acropolis 
of Athens, with its delicate and yet gigantic building, is 
still too vividly impressed on my memory. It is true, 
one does injustice to Pompeii, if one forgets that it is 
only a small town of very little importance, owing its re- 
putation to the fires of Vesuvius. But it has the merit of 
having preserved to us a piece of antiquity with all its 
details, disclosing, in a manner almost indiscreet, a vivid 
picture of Eoman life. That which was brought from 
Pompeii to the glass cases of the Museo Borbonico cer- 
tainly shows us only a skeleton of the former life ; the 
spirit has departed from these things. The shops can 
be recognised, and on their walls stand written words and 
names ; and in the streets one sees the ruts of the wheels, 
and the stones leading over the gutters. Pompeii is almost 
awful in its ruins ; the little rooms still glitter in glaring 
colours, like painted corpses ; that yesterday still clings to 
the walls, which requires a night of almost two thousand 
years to become to-day. The total impression is, how- 
ever, more that of a town destroyed by fire, than of a 
careful excavation, and is not in the least grand ; and all 
of us were more or less disappointed. To see it once may 
suffice, whilst one might gaze on the antiquities of Greece 
again and again. Pompeii is to the learned an explana- 
tory dictionary, but Athens is an enrapturing Epos. Only 
a fourth part of the town, however, is excavated. We 
attended at an excavation ; the fine ashes were peeled off, 
and a few vessels, and a marble shell-fountain were dis- 
covered ; but the people there were so proud, that they 
would not let us have even a small piece as a keepsake. 
Only two things made an impression on me : the amphi- 
theatre built of solid stones, and the town of the dead, the 
Street of the Tombs. Though the amphitheatre is much 
smaller than that of Verona and Pola, it is still grand ; it 



72 RECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

is a gloomy ruin, such, as I love, grey and strong, inter- 
woven with fresh green, and made glorious by the splendid 
colour of the southern evening. When it began to get 
dark the street of the tombs became stern and ghostlike, 
without being awful. Evening enfolds the objects in a 
mystical dusk, and leaves room for the fancy to divine, 
and to add what is wanting. The dusk appertains to the 
past, to the dead : whilst the clear light of the sun analyses 
too minutely ; to a tomb a torch is suitable ; and Pompeii 

is a tomb. 

Eoadstead of Naples, August 13, 1851. 

This morning we devoted to the arsenal, ships, &c. In 
every part of it are work and activity, everywhere ham- 
mering, everywhere the newest inventions in the military 
branch. The King's pet is Petrarsa, built by him on the 
shore of the sea, this side of Portici. For such a small 
country, it is an establishment on a grand style ; moved 
by steam, the roaring of the engine is everywhere heard, 
everywhere is to be seen and felt the glow of the busy fire, 
vying in activity with the sun of August ; and amidst all 
this turmoil of our steam-engine century, flower-beds are 
to be seen in profusion. The same water that assists in 
the making of a war-engine waters roses and oleanders; 
and around the wells and the iron columns of the mili- 
tary buildings creepers wind in graceful festoons. It is 
an attempt to combine poetry with material productions, 
but only with a half success. The establishments which 
we saw to-day exhibit two striking features the great 
profusion of galley-slaves, dressed in red, who meet you 
on all sides, rattling their heavy chains, and the numberless 
portraits and busts of the King. I do not like to see, 
during a monarch's lifetime, monuments everywhere erected 
to him, out of base flattery. 

If the morning was devoted to prose, the evening brought 
us some pure poetry. We were driving along a long avenue 



CAPRI. 

Amidst pleasant conversation with the amiable Aquila, 
and constant admiration of the coasts of the gulf, we soon 
reached the end of our voyage. A light boat carried us 
on to the cool sand of the amphitheatrical and picturesque 
shore, where a crowd of horses and donkeys was waiting 
to carry us to the ruins of the imperial palace. As the 
heat was dreadful, I was offered a white parasol, which 
however I declined with some astonishment, and with the 
remark, that we Northern inhabitants of the earth could 
stand the heat much better than the Southerners, who 
almost succumb to it. We galloped along the steep shores 
which zig-zag round the hill, now between picturesque 
formed rocks, now between gardens and houses, always 
with a beautiful view of the sea. Beyond all other parts 
of this magic gulf, Capri is impressed with the glowing 
stamp of the South. Here one feels the power of the sun 
as in dear Hellas. Capri is not Italy, it is more than 
Italy. From its stony loins abundantly proceed the plants 
of a hotter clime ; on its shores soft, melting, melodious 
Italy, with its sweet Petrarch songs, yields to a deeper- 
felt passion. Italy is a delightful sonnet, sung by soft 
lips ; this island, like the shores of the gulf of Lepanto, 
is a poem of passionate magic love, from a wild and 
fiery heart. Were I one of the rich people of Naples, 
I would live here, live amidst those sunbeams, which 
effeminate in Naples and invigorate in Capri. The in- 
habitants are fresh and handsome, and their glowing 
black eyes tell of passion ; they have, besides, the most 
excellent teeth one can imagine. 

Whilst riding along, I saw an old man in a dark cowl, 
galloping on a donkey, bringing home a filled beggar's-bag ; 
I took him for a monk, and, as I like to get into conversa- 
tion with these people, I urged my horse on and came up 
to him. But how pleasantly was my romantic vein tickled, 
when in the donkey-rider I found a hermit, the first I had 



76 KECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

seen in my life. A veritable hermit was sitting before me 
on a little donkey, grinning in a friendly manner. His 
appearance was calculated to inspire ridicule, from the 
great hurry of the solitary man, the quick time he kept 
on the unsaddled long-eared donkey, by the sides of which 
his sandals and cowl were shaking. In the movement of 
the body, a club foot showed itself. He was altogether 
a strange contrast to the quiet, serious picture, which is 
our ideal of these world-renouncing beings. Our roads 
were the same, as the cell of the hermit stood on the 
ruins of Tiberius' palace. Of its former splendour, a few 
decayed plain walls, mean-looking mosaics, and the com- 
mencement of a covered way, which is said to have 
served the Emperor as a secret communication between 
the heights and the sea, are the whole remains. Luxu- 
riant weeds grow abundantly on the ruins. The situation 
chosen for his palace imbued me with an admiration of 
Tiberius' intelligence, for it is one of the finest spots 
in the world. He was not deterred by the height, and 
thus from its terraces he saw the magic picture of the 
matchless gulf, the imposing Vesuvius with its mysterious 
heavenward undulating column, and the deep mystery of 
the unbounded sea. This great pleasure belonged to the 
ruler of the world, which is now fallen to the lot of a 
hermit, who has been attracted hither more by the nu- 
merous visitors, than by pious disgust with the world, 
and who is, indeed, still busy with thoughts of it. He 
assured us that the pure air of this marvellous height, 
where he has enjoyed himself for thirty years, gave him 
an immense appetite, which he only half-satisfied with the 
kind gifts of the villagers. He was just returning from a 
' razzia.' However, he is by no means adverse to money 
contributions, .and a notice affixed to the wall of his cell, 
written in French, warns visitors to place the money only 
into his own hands, and not into those of the cicerone. 



THE TARANTELLA. 77 

One of this latter kind, who of course accompanied us, 
was a queer old typical figure, who, when roguishly asked 
by one of the company, ' Whether the hermit was always 
a solitary?' answered maliciously, ( Non si sa !' The poor 
slandered one brought bad Capri wine, and a visitors' list. 
When we sat down, he commenced playing some merry 
tunes on a flute, then all dignity vanished, and the black 
cowl, the club foot, and the covetous cunning features made 
a diabolical impression upon us. 

We were shown the spot, on a steep dizzy precipice, 
from which Tiberius hurled down into the sea all those 
who had become troublesome to him. From this spot, 
the pure transparent sea looked up to us, like a deep 
beautiful human eye; but the eye had also its dreadful 
mysteries. The notice of the visitor is also drawn to a 
white tower from which the gloomy tyrant observed the 
stars. How frequently these dark minds read evil and 
danger in those eternal orbs, which yet yield comfort to 
others ! 

We went into a little house, where some handsome 
Capri girls entered and commenced dancing the tarantella 
to the sound of the tambourine, and snapped their fingers 
to imitate castanets. The old cicerone, seized by the 
excitement of the dance, forgot his age and his stiff limbs 
when he heard the sounds of the tambourine, which were 
now wild and now gentle. 

The inhabitants of Capri were another proof that the 
character of the people is expressed by its dances. They 
danced the tarantella, which is so full of wild, beautiful, 
and intoxicating passion, quite simply and artlessly. Ee- 
specting one of these dancers, a magnificently handsome 
girl, with an ardent fiery look, and a row of pearly teeth 
which the bold smile could not show sufficiently often, 
there was whispered a little romance about a prince from 
the other side of the wonderful gulf. During the dance 



78 RECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

cactus figs were handed about, a very rustic refreshment, 
which, when carefully disarmed by taking off their small 
thorns, were much to my taste. We again mounted on our 
horses and donkeys, and, accompanied by the dancing girls, 
commenced our return in the best humour. The steamer 
brought us, by a few turns of the wheels, near a steep rock 
of the island. We stepped into small boats, and rowed 
towards it, and it appeared as if one would have, as in a 
fairy tale, to glide through the rocky wall, to be opened 
by a spell, that we might enter a fairy temple. And so it 
was. There appeared suddenly an entrance, not more 
than three feet and a half high, and just wide enough for 
our dwarf boat. A few strokes of the oars, and we glided 
gently, as if moved by the breath of Elves, through the 
narrow stone-ring. Behind us closed the world, with its 
terrestrial doings and its sunny days, and, borne on the 
wings of Zephyr, we were floating under the dome of a 
grotto, around the columns, and under the projections, off 
which glittered a blue twilight, which, like the reflection 
of the moon in a fairy tale, shone mildly on the marble. 
We were in the love-bower of the Nymph of Capri ; but 
the Nymph fortunately for us was not in her home, 
for how should we have gone through the hard trials of 
Ulysses ? Thus it is, that as long as the immortals dwell 
in the blue grotto of Capri, no mortal is allowed to find 
them ; and when the mortals discover them, the immortals 
have disappeared. 

I felt mysteriously delighted in this cool grotto of the 
Naiads, and envied the sailors, who, like silver fishes, were 
moving about in the moonshine. Each of their limbs 
seemed to be coated with magic metal. A few strokes 
of the oar soon brought us again to the ring of rocks; 
the sea-hall of the Nymphs disappeared, the fairy tale 
dissolved, and day again broke upon us with golden 
brightness, as if the splendour of the earth would try its 



SORRENTO. 79 

metal against fancy ; and I could not forbear exclaiming, 
' By heaven, the sun is beautiful ! ' 

Again the wheels of the steamer were in movement, and 
we were off to Sorrento. To Sorrento ! What melody is in 
this name ! Does not Tasso come before our rnind ? Do 
not the most handsome women of the kingdom pass before 
us ? And what a paradise is this splendid Sorrento ! It is 
completely imbedded in orange groves, and is situated on 
a high rocky bank, on mighty stone-terraces, like a little 
piece of Switzerland. 

Whilst sitting quietly on the terrace, looking down 
on the wide gulf, and listening to the strains of the 
Neapolitan marine band, the guests suddenly looked at 
each other, astonished and perplexed. The table had 
moved, and the pulsation of an earthquake had been 
distinctly felt. I was the only one among the whole com- 
pany who had not remarked anything, and yet the concus- 
sion was so strong, that by it, as we heard afterwards, two 
towns were destroyed, and a great number of men killed 
or injured. This is the unfavourable side of this splendid 
country. 

We stepped now into a country coach, drawn by two 
horses, oddly ornamented with shells. Cigars were lit, 
and, amidst constant jingling, we drove along between the 
sides of large orange gardens. * The spirit is willing, but 
the flesh is weak,' especially after hard riding and a good 
meal. Fanned by the southern air, and lulled by the 
music caused by the movement of the horses, I fell asleep. 
But when we had turned round the hill projecting into 
the sea, the spirit got strong again, and I woke to take a 
farewell of the bay of Sorrento. Sorrento disappeared, 
and left upon my memory the impression of being the 
throne of the poet's love. 

Our carriage stopped in a charming bay, at the arsenal 
of Castellamare, where my long-cherished wish to see a 



80 RECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

ship of the line was satisfied. It had as yet no riggings, 
and the arrangements in the interior were not completed ; 
but still I could see and admire the structure of the ship, 
and the wide majestic dimensions of this real water-castle, 
j ustly named ' Monarca.' 

The palace of the King, situated above Castellamare, 
round which runs a wide terrace, is rich in splendid views, 
but its rooms are bare and uncomfortable ; the small 
garden towards the hill is furnished with great abundance 
of trees and flowers from all parts of the world. It is 
a pity that dahlias also are seen here ; rich as they are 
in colour, they always appear to me like a pretty, but 
stupid and vulgar woman, quite parvenue, and without 
grace. They do not understand here how to arrange 
the flowers with coquetry ; generally too much is left to 
mother Nature, or, if a thing is taken in hand, it is made 
crushingly grand, or appears full of paltry childish taste ; 
the good people are spoilt by the splendid climate and 
the excellent ground ; the flowers grow and bloom, without 
any help, wherever the seed falls upon the ground ! But 
what wonderful things could be accomplished with such 
means, if only there was some understanding. The garden 
of Prince Lieven here is a very lovely sight, and commands 
a charming view of Vesuvius and a part of the gulf. It 
shows what the Northern creative mind can do. I would 
not, however, apply to this country the English mode of 
cultivation, for nature is here of itself already too park- 
like. Fragrance and coolness are the requisites of these 
Southern regions ; and grassplots, so difficult here to be 
maintained, must be avoided as much as possible. Yet 
Prince Lieven has succeeded with them, at considerable 
expense. The most successful trial in this Southern 
Eussia has been made on a small terrace, on the hill- 
side of the house, into which creepers roguishly peep with 
their flower eyes, and where large trees gently wave their 



CASERTA. 81 

heads over the balconies, so that one sees the splendid 
Northern oak-wood from the slope of the hill, and dreams 
of the fresh Alps in the fragrant South. 

Koadstead of Naples, August 15, 1851. 

As we are living in the age of railways, we cannot do 
better than swim with the stream ; and as everything 
has its good side, so is it also with the materialising rail- 
road. One gets rapidly over the ground, and this was 
very convenient in our trip into the country to-day. We 
were flying through that cultivated plain, which looks so 
beautiful seen from the heights, but from the plain itself 
is so monotonous and tedious. I was warned not to fall 
asleep on account of the malaria prevailing in the low 
country during this time of the year. Fortunately it was 
not after dinner, so that we had the less difficulty in 
escaping the danger, and arrived at Caserta, where the 
largest palace of the King of the Two Sicilies is situated. 
The first impression is not favourable; the avenues are 
neglected, and the dimensions are more barrack- than 
palace-like. The whole looks a little the worse for wear, 
and I had continually before my eyes my dear Schonbrunn, 
with which I heard Caserta compared, and almost to the 
advantage of the latter. But the impression is more 
favourable after passing the vestibule of Caserta. When 
one sees the four colossal squares, and their gigantic 
halls, which, beautifully arched, support the lofty domes 
of the massive palace; the large staircase, which seems 
to be created for the steps of gods; the garden with 
its giant cascade, one feels that Caserta, although built 
upon the least pretty, or rather the only place that is not 
pretty of the country around Naples, is not a royal folly, 
but a work of which the idea could only be conceived by 
that courage that speaks in all the works of Charles III., 
and which could only proceed from the time that had 

VOL. i. G 



82 KECOLLECTIOIS T S OF MY LIFE. 

produced Louis XIV. and his genius. The staircase of 
Caserta is so adapted that its possessor seems to make 
the world climb up to him, and he then receives the 
crowd respectfully, approaching it with a gracious look 
and smile. 

The garden corresponds with the magnificent staircase, 
and its grass-plots, waters, and trees, bear the impress of 
the same mind. How majestically do these cascades and 
canals flow down the slope! How these fountains and 
statues, these close-clipped tree-walls and parallel avenues, 
suggest ( pumps ' and hoops ! Is not all this so trained and 
dressed that even nature may not put an impediment in 
the way of the ceremonious walk, the measured step of a 
court, surrounded by the nimbus of majesty ? Do not the 
cascades murmur in time ? Do not the trees stand in 
order with respectful etiquette before their master ? What 
a spirit of pomp speaks out of all this, so that even nature 
has to succumb to its power ! Nature in our gardens may, 
indeed, be maimed, but it is not subjugated ; crooked 
country roads and rough bushes are imitated, which may 
be found much finer outside, and we attempt to improve 
where we only disfigure ; whilst our ancestors used power 
and genius in their gardens, at least they formed out of 
nature a magnificently dressed, though perhaps rigid, lady 
of the first rank, imposing, even as a matron, and putting 
to shame the free manner of the young soubrette. The 
parterre in Schonbrunn is the imperial sister of the royal 
garden at Caserta. I should like to have seen both in the 
time of their greatest splendour, in that of their powder 
and hair-bags. In what stately, rich attire must have 
stepped along these walks the courts of Maria Theresa and 
the Bourbons of that time ! 

Before leaving Caserta I must also mention the monster 
trouts. living in the cool freshness of the grotto, in the 
clear beautiful water in the background of the main cas- 






VIRGIL'S TOMB. 83 

cade. They appear at the call of the keeper, to astonish 
the eye of the stranger by their unusual size, like the 
monster carps in Lachsenburg. They are, however, only 
fit to please the eye and not the palate, and live joyously 
on a princely pension. 

I took an agreeable dinner at my good aunt's ; and it 
was already getting late when I drove to the grounds of 
the royal palace at Portici. 

Roadstead of Naples, August 16, 1851. 

This morning was devoted to the antiquities around 
Baise and Puzzuoli ; but I am ashamed to confess that it 
was the only tedious morning during our stay in Naples ; 
and yet few of my acquaintances are so enthusiastic about 
antiquities as I am. But it is not only the mind, but the 
body also which must be in health, in order that one may 
admire and enjoy; and as the latter, in consequence of so 
many excursions, was exhausted, and the heat of the glow- 
ing sun was so insupportable, I felt quite sick, and not at 
all disposed to admire the monuments of Eoman greatness 
and tyranny, the more so as they are far below my recol- 
lection of what the Grecian antiquities were. 

We commenced our excursion with the tomb of Virgil, 
marked by a long Latin inscription at the entrance of 
Posilippo, but the grave itself is on the height, and passing 
through a vineyard one comes upon a little stone house 
and its insignificant walls, with a few laurel shrubs. Here 
rests the poet who created the ' CEneid.' A silly French 
inscription commemorates his glory, and confers on Virgil 
the great honour of raising him to the rank of prince 
amongst the poets, by calling him ( le prince des poetes.' 
It is the fashion to take a laurel leaf, or, if possible, a 
branch from this spot, which may serve as a poetical 
enchanter's wand. The place of the great heathen is used 
as a burial-ground for non-Catholics, which is certainly 

G 2 



84 RECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

most improper ; German, English, and Jewish tombstones 
are to be found here 4 pele-mele.' 

After having duly gathered my memento from the grave 
of the poet, we drove to the ' Grotto of Posilippo,' one of 
the famous spots around Naples. A long dark tunnel has 
been cut through the Tufastone mountain : it is by no means 
so grand as the cuttings on our railroads, and although of 
the time of the Eomans, it scarcely deserves to be called 
a Koman work. The rockgate in Salzburg, with the fine 
inscription, ( Te saxa loquuntur,' is indeed a far more 
picturesque and a grander work, not to speak of the stone 
galleries in the imperial road of the Wormser Joch. A 
good effect is produced by the light penetrating through 
the disagreeable clouds of dust, which, like the silver veil 
of a fairy, enveloped that dark road. 

An old hermit, the second specimen of the kind which 
I saw, was begging at the entrance of the grotto ; a kind 
of private toll-collector, thus showing the world that 
even at the entrance of a large capital city one may be a 
hermit. Through real waves of dust we came to the very 
unhealthy ( Lago d'Agnano,' on the shores of which is 
another of Naples' great sights, namely, ' the dog-grotto.' 
I looked out for it in vain, and to my astonishment I was 
led to a small door, behind which I supposed was the 
entrance to the grotto ; how much was I astonished when, 
on the door being opened, I saw before me a small hollow, 
at best a few feet deep, which ought to have been called 
rather a dog's-hole than a dog's-grotto ! A deadly gas is 
here exhaled, as at many places in Marienbad ; we heard 
the poor dog whine, as it was held up before our eyes in 
the hole. It quivered convulsively several times, its 
tongue became blue, and at last, when almost dead, it 
was brought out into the fresh air, where it panted and 
slowly recovered, after which it staggered away as if it 
were drunk. A truly horrid and barbarous sight a 



PUZZUOLI. 85 

suffering which the poor heast has to undergo frequently 
for the profit of his master. 

We came next to a place where formerly stood the villa 
of Cicero, and then on to Puzzuoli, a little town situated 
on a hill near a bay branching off from the gulf, and on 
the shores of which is also Baise, that favourite resort of 
the Komans, who passed there a kind of fashionable bathing 
season at the ' Stufe di Nerone,' corresponding to our 
modern vapour baths. Here there is also a large basin 
for sea-fish, the Piscina mirabilis, a colossal water reservoir, 
and many ruins of temples and villas. We proceeded first 
to the Solfatara, the former crater of a volcano ; the tunnel 
is now green, and the crater has a white bottom. The 
abundance of sulphur in Sicily, however, has proved 
ruinous to this business. On stamping the foot upon 
the ground, a dull and mysterious booming is heard ; a 
knocking, as it were, at the door of the lower regions. It 
sounds as if there was an empty vault beneath, which is 
especially strange and uncomfortable to those driving over 
it. I wonder that a trial has not been made to ascertain 
something about it by digging. The white ground w y as 
glowingly hot, and I was very glad when we left the crater, 
which was as hot as a baking stove. We proceeded towards 
Baise, and then on to the so-called 'Mare morto,' a natural 
dock for the ships of the ancients, which is now slowly 
drying up. 

Looking over the vineyards we see the height of Miseno 
projecting into the sea ; this historical point glowed 
in the sun, and formed a fine Southern picture, seen over 
the blue sea and under the blue sky. In sad contrast 
were the prisons of Nero. We were led with torches into 
these deep black holes, which branch off under ground in 
several ways, forming a horrible labyrinth, where the 
smoke of the torches almost stifle. We soon returned, and 
I was glad to get out of the dark bowels of the earth into 



86 RECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

the daylight. Several women of the neighbouring place 
here danced the tarantella so clumsily and gracelessly that 
it scarcely recalled to us the tarantella danced at Capri. 

On the coast of the bay of Baise the temple of Diana 
may be seen, a high vault half in ruins, and the temple of 
Mercury ; neither are distinguished by their architecture 
or by their size. But who looks for great monuments in 
a country-seat? The small rooms are interesting and are 
hewn out of a rock, as are also the low dark passage of the 
Stufe di Nerone, leading to the vapour spring. The 
steam of this spring is so hot that an egg is boiled by it 
in a short time. An old man managed this operation ; 
and though on returning his gasping was exaggerated in 
order to produce pity, I am yet unable to see how he could 
stand a heat which was insupportable to me even at the 
entrance of the passage. These numerous vapour and 
sulphur springs, this smoke breaking through, this heat 
of the ground, these eruptions of obnoxious gas, are so many 
unmistakable tokens of a great chemical laboratory which 
has its centre in Vesuvius, and who can tell how far the 
smiling crust of Naples is undermined, and how soon 
perhaps a new volcano may burst forth where at present 
merry mortals live in villas surrounded by orange-trees, 
unconscious of the near approach of death ! 

We closed the inspection of the curiosities with the 
temple of Serapis in Puzzuoli, which has once been very 
fine, but has now come down to a kind of swamp. The 
ground of the temple is several feet high, covered with 
water, which comes from the chemical spring, and from 
the sea hard by, and has got so mixed as to afford a 
favourable ground for fishes ; at a certain season, ' horri- 
bile dictu,' people flock here to find health by wading in 
this water where it is low, certainly a very disgusting 
operation. 

How does a ' via tedesca ' come to be found in the boot 



ON BOAED THE 'NOVARA. 7 87 

of Italy, where the Germans are termed barbarians ? The 
via takes its origin from the time when in the twenties of 
this century the white-coats had to keep order here ; in 
memory of that happy time when they lived in golden 
Naples, this road has been constructed, which passes along 
the gulf on the heights of Posilippo, and after passing the 
most wonderful views, villas, and gardens, enters into the 
Chiaja. 

On one side of the slope hang smiling country-seats, 
and on the other is the sea. Built in the old feudal style 
on a rather peculiar site, one sees here the fort-like villa 
of the Marchesa S , a very equivocal English lady. 

I made one more visit to Capo di Monte to take leave 
of my aunt and cousin, for now unfortunately they might 
say to me : ' My prince, the fine days of Aranjuez (reading 
Naples for Aranjuez) are passed,' and I thanked my dear 
relations very much for their friendly and genial reception. 
On board our frigate to-day was nothing but cleaning and 
cooking and frying, for I intended to invite Aquila to our 
floating palace for the last evening. The meal was merry, 
but the farewell was hard ; I had found a friend in Aquila, 
a friend who made the agreeable recollection of Naples 
still more agreeable; and so it happens that I cannot 
leave this place where I have had so much happiness 
without an indescribable longing and a sad heart. Aquila's 
boat glided away amidst the strains of the Bourbon hymn, 
and standing on the quarter-deck, I looked long after 
him. 

The youngest brother of the King, Count Trapani, 
visited me in the course of the evening. I had seen his 
amiable wife the previous evening. The features of this 
daughter of the Grand-Duke of Tuscany are of the same 
type as those of the Austrian family, and remind me 
strongly of those portraits of the Empress Maria Louisa 
painted in her youth. 



88 RECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

The last evening I drove through the hubbub of the 
streets of Naples. On the quay of Santa Lucia where I 
had first landed, and renewed acquaintance with our 
amiable minister, Field-Marshal Lieutenant Martini--! 
took my leave of this kind, obliging man, whose name I 
retain amidst my brighter recollections. The boat put off 
the shore, and sleep soon embraced us in its dark leaden 

arms. 

H. M. Frigate 'Novara,' August 17, 1851. 

After midnight I rose to be present at the weighing the 
anchor : we had fine weather and a light breeze through 
the channel between Ischia and Capri ; Naples, that 
city of wonders, that terrestrial paradise, was all alight, 
notwithstanding the late hour, and life seemed still to be 
busy in it. I took one last look at the city in which I had 
spent such a pleasant week, and I hope had learned so 
many things. Though I might not select Naples for a 
lengthened residence, yet few cities offer such charms for 
a short one. One could almost fancy that Nature had 
here set up an exhibition of her powers, and, after looking 
around her for a spot on which to fix it, had finally selected 
this charming and unique scene. 

At one point rises a mountain, rent asunder at its top, 
that the astonished human race may get a glimpse at the 
hidden powers. Brimstone from its abyss of every colour; 
crystals of the finest form, glowing streams of lava pouring 
over the sides of the mountain ; and close to this lava, 
grapes, the fermented juice of which yields the delicious 
Lacryma Christi; these are some of the extraordinary 
sights yielded by Vesuvius. In the plain below we have 
the fig tree and the olive, the cactus with its juicy fruit, and 
the cotton plant with its useful fleece, palm trees and 
oaks, whilst the lemon and orange trees spread around 
the most delicious fragrance. In the mountain masses we 
have theTufastone, through which the 'Grotto of Posilippo' 



DEPARTURE FROM NAPLES. 89 

has been cut. Picturesque rocks rise from the sea and form 
natural fortifications. Sweet water lakes in the mountain 
cauldrons ; sulphur fields which save man the trouble of 
mining ; islands rising from the sea, guardians of the gulf, 
and in one of which is that miracle of beauty, the blue 
grotto ; Naples can show specimens of everything which is 
most charming, and most fairy-like, alongside with that 
which enables us to imagine the horrors of the lower regions. 
And has not nature succeeded in her plan ? man falls 
down admiringly before her gifts, and thinks himself for- 
tunate that he is allowed to embellish and enhance these 
gifts by those of art. This is the city to which I said fare- 
well, and left it with the satisfaction of having at last 
enjoyed everything possible in so short a space of time. 
With an easy conscience I therefore went again to my 
bed, and when I awoke in the morning the fine dream had 
vanished. Fogs had enveloped it, but Capri and Ischia 
were still at our side. We had to move around the latter 
island for a long time, so that we still had before us the 
tormenting view of Vesuvius partly shrouded in fog, the 
shores opposite Procida and the islands, for I call it tor- 
menting still to see them after having taken leave of them, 
to see places half obliterated that one has learned to love ; 
too distinct not to remind us of the past happy moments, 
and too far to enable us to reach them. 

August 18, 1851. 

All put on their holiday dress and prepared for High 
Mass, which was to be read in celebration of the birthday 
of our emperor at ten o'clock. It was a fine moment, full 
of emotion ; on the left of the battery a tent had been 
made out of Austrian flags, and in it stood a simple but 
decent altar. Officers and crew were marched, en parade. 
Our ship chaplain, a very worthy young man, read with 
calm devotion the holy mass, and sung after it the 



90 RECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

Te Deum. During the service the music played in dif- 
ferent parts. At the Te Deum the ever-beautiful ' Gott er 
halte ' resounded ; I felt very sad during service, for it 
was the first time that I had not been with my brother on 
this happy day. I was alone, quite alone in strange seas, 
under another sky ; besides I had thought so long and so 
deeply of one of my beloved at home, about whom my 
heart was anxious, that I was in one of those forlorn dis- 
positions of mind in which man feels a sort of sweet 
despair and longs for home. My family had made me too 
happy at home ; but it is well that such a life should 
have an end, and these heavy hours are a bitter, but 
wholesome medicine. With the evening came pleasant 
thoughts which drowned home-sickness. To celebrate the 
day I had invited the officers of the ship and the chaplain 
to dinner. The music played, we were all in full dress, 
and slight as the festival was, it was well received. At 
noon the island of Ischia was still to be seen. 

August 19, 1851. 

To-day the sea began its tricks : it commenced a game 
with the proud Novara, and engaged her for a dance, 
which did not agree with many of her passengers ; the 
dancing of her slender body had a rather strong effect on 
most of them. The little island of Ponza and Cape Circello, 
and later, the island of Palmarola, were in sight. Between 
four and six in the evening we had a calm, but still the 
ship did not stop her dancing. When we were sitting 
together after dinner some storm-birds were shown to us, 
which had been caught on board. They are very nice 
grey and black little birds, with black, pointed, long bills, 
dark lively eyes and little feet provided with web-mem- 
branes. The arrival of these guests did not forbode any 
good, and yesterday the appearance of small dolphins 
foreboded a rough sea. 



MONTE CHRISTO. 91 

^August 21, 1851. 

I was suddenly awakened by the tumbling down of my 
bookcase with everything on it. The movement was ex- 
traordinary and all was dark. I groped my way on deck. 
Here I must accuse myself of a little weakness. I had 
retained one of the storm-birds, which had been caught 
the day before yesterday, and in my mania for animals I 
kept and nursed it ; but in the night when it stormed and 
raged, when wave succeeded wave, I felt uneasy about the 
ominous character of the storm-bird, and the idea occurred 
to me that whether it remained on our ship or died on it, 
it would be equally fatal to us. I felt as if the bird were 
the spirit of a drowned sailor. I took it out of its prison, 
wrapped it up in my handkerchief and carried it on deck, 
where I gave it its liberty, but I placed it behind a gun 
because of the storm. Who is there that is at all times 
free from fits of superstition, and especially on the sea ? 

August 22, 1851. 

The weather was fine, and the Papal States were in sight. 
At noon Monte Argentaro was within view, in the direction 
of Civita Vecchia, and the Tuscan island Griglio was sighted. 
It was a sad thought to be so near those Papal States one 
would have so liked to see ; but as it was not in our plan 
of voyage we had to be satisfied. 

August 23, 1851. 

On awaking this morning, we saw, besides the island 
Giglio, Monte Christo, Elba, and Grianuti. Monte Christo, 
which has got such a reputation since Dumas' novel, 6 The 
Count of Monte Christo,' is a rather high rocky peak rising 
from the sea, very much like Stromboli, and discovering, 
notwithstanding its bare and dead appearance, curiously 
peaked forms. The grotto, with its celebrated treasures, 
we could not, unfortunately, discover. No diamonds glit- 
tered, and we came to the conclusion that Count Monte 



92 KECOLLECTIOXS OF MY LIFE. 

Christo must have taken them all with him in his corvette, 
and have sailed away, never to return. 

Elba, that cage in which the eagle was imprisoned, with 
every facility at hand for escape, and which has acquired 
its fame through its prisoner, is a rather large, rocky, 
mountainous island without much vegetation or much 
life. The side on which Porte Ferrajo is situated may be 
more attractive, but that which we see is rough and 
repelling. 

August 24, 1851. 

In the morning we were between Elba and Pianosa. 
The latter island corresponds perfectly to its name ; it is a 
broad rocky plain which, rising very little above the sea, 
is surrounded with so many shallows that it is dangerous 
for vessels, especially at night-time. The rocky cliffs 
encircling the island slope so regularly that the island 
looks like a cake. To-day at noon I went, for the first 
time, into the maintop, and found it by no means so fear- 
ful a situation as one would think, and if it were not 
that the movement at this considerable height is much 
stronger than on deck, one would not be so dizzy. The 
evening was fine, and the form of the island of Corsica, 
famous for its celebrated son, was distinctly to be seen. 
It is mountainous, and of considerable size. 

August 26, 1851. 

Enjoyed the sunrise in the maintop. In tacking we 
came rather near to Corsica, and could distinguish the 
town of Bastia. It does not seem to be an important 
town, and has the same character as other Italian towns. 
The day passed without anything worthy of notice, and 
Leghorn was still far off. 

August 26, 1851. 

The Tuscan coast could be seen more distinctly towards 
noon. We passed the island Grorgona, and saw at last the 



LEGHORN. 93 

Monte Nero, at the foot of which Leghorn is situated. In 
the morning twenty-two ships were in sight, from which 
one may judge that we were on a track much used. After 
a tedious calm we came in sight of that commercial city, 
Leghorn. It is situated in a plain on the shore between 
an amphitheatre of finely-formed hills, and seems a city of 
considerable extent. Out of the mass of houses rise two 
lighthouses and several forts. The white and red banner 
waves over the forts, showing Tuscany to be a State of the 
Austrian House. A large dark mountain arises to the 
right of the city as seen from the sea, on which villas and 
gardens are erected. This is the Monte Nero just alluded 
to, and is a celebrated resort of the Leghorn people. On 
the left, at some distance behind the city, rise the lofty 
mountains of Lucca, and the even outline of the Apennines. 
I was not aware that Italy could boast such lofty and 
romantically-shaped mountains, which gave me quite a 
feeling of home. The roadstead is too wide ; but in the 
walls of the fortress of the city this is so shallow that even 
small merchantmen cannot enter it laden. 

Whilst looking for ground to anchor, we saw coming 
towards us two boats ornamented with the white and red 
flag; uniforms could be seen on board, which we at once 
recognised to be Austrian. The excitement to know who 
was coming was great. It was even surmised that the 
Grand Duke and his sons might be on board. But they 
soon proved to be General Count Crenneville, commander 
of the Austrian troops in Leghorn, Baron Hiigel, our 
minister, and several Tuscan notabilities, amongst whom 
was my old acquaintance, General Sproni. The first who 
reached the ship was the brave Count Castiglioni, colonel 
of that excellent regiment Kinsky ; what a pleasure it was 
for me to see friends again, and especially Austrians ! I 
declined the Grand-Ducal dinner, and invited Crenneville 
and Hiigel to a poor dinner with me, for the voyage, being 



94 KECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

unexpectedly long, had much exhausted our provisions. 
Seven letters which I now received gave me great pleasure ; 
they were the first I had received since I left Trieste. I 
opened them, not without fear at what might have hap- 
pened since I had been away. Fortunately the news was 
good. After dinner we rowed towards the city. It took 
some time, for, on account of the bad anchorage, we had 
to cast anchor at a considerable distance from the city ; but 
it was such a splendid day that we could not regret that 
our passage was a long one, for it gave us plenty of leisure 
to enjoy the fine evening. The mountain-chains stood 
out in a purple and blue haze on the clear sky ; nearer 
objects were gilded by the intense rays of the sun, and the 
beautiful sea, slightly stirred, lay dark blue before us ; it 
was one of those evenings to which the heart opens in 
delight, and in which the eye cannot feast enough on the 
charms of nature. We passed close to the e Dragon, " 
whose crew saluted from the rigging ; her friendly captain 
had visited me before dinner. We soon rowed to a forti- 
fied mole stretching its arm into the sea, and offering but 
a scanty protection against dangerous winds. On its walls 
we saw the friendly sight of an Austrian sentinel. On all 
sides resounded the home-like ' Gewehr heraus ! ' and 
through a small opening between two walls of the fortress 
we came to the inner harbour, and stepped on shore. The 
first thing that we examined was the monument of ( Gio- 
vanni Gaston di Medici,' which is close to the shore, near 
a wharf. This large statue is of white marble, and Gaston 
is in picturesque harness, with the marshal's staff in his 
hand. To the corners of the pedestal are chained four 
artistically-formed slaves, of bronze. These four bent 
figures, with their hands tied behind their backs, and their 
heads looking up to their conqueror, are intended to repre- 

* An English vessel. 



THE 'STRADA LUtfGA,' LEGHORN. 95 

sent the four different races of Africa. Each figure is a 
single piece. The stranger is generally led to a point from 
which he can see the five noses of the figures, which are 
placed in five different directions. We stepped into the 
Grand-Ducal carriages, and drove through the celebrated 
' Strada Lunga,' which passes through the whole city, and 
is full of fine shops. The number and variety of the 
foreign merchants living here may be judged by the 
English, German, and Grecian sign-boards. Life here is 
active, but not so lively and so ensnaring to the senses as 
in stirring Naples, but you see here, amongst the women, 
far more handsome faces. The Strada Lunga crosses the 
principal Piazza, on which are situated the fine but small 
Palace of the Grand-Duke, and the not very remarkable 
Cathedral. 

The principal curiosity of the place is that it is, as it 
were, a broad bridge under which the Arno flows like a 
canal. 

Another Eoman work, perhaps still grander than the 
last-named, is the 'listernone' at the boundary of the 
city ; a stone-water reservoir supported by columns, which 
can provide the city for forty-six days. There is an in- 
scription on the bottom of the basin, two yards beneath 
the surface, a very good test of the purity of the water. 

Night spread its friendly veil over city and land, but 
the Italian does not enjoy it like the G-erman; for him 
the nights are only the cooler half of the oppressive 
summer, and he devotes them to noisy festivities. To-day 
the band of the regiment played on the square, which, 
lighted by gas, was transformed into a city-hall ; truly it 
is a happy climate which permits such halls with the sky 
only for a ceiling, but then the comfortable home-like 
feeling has no place here. 

Lucca, August 27, 1851. 

Very early in the morning, and soon after a magical 



96 RECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

sunrise, we left our ship to pay a visit to the Grand-Duke 
by railroad to Marlia. We steamed through a plain, 
which is redeemed from a swamp, and is becoming useful 
land. In the midst of this plain is Pisa, that old stubborn 
Kepublic, which had formerly something to say on the 
affairs of this part of the world, but is now deserted and 
scantily peopled ; a big coffin for consumptive patients. 
There are some things one has heard of from youth, and 
the leaning tower of Pisa is one of these. 

I went rapidly through the city and saw its beauties as 
in a dream, intending to examine them next day at leisure. 
The railroad first ran through well-cultivated land, but 
suddenly pierced a mountain-gorge, and we found our- 
selves in a luxuriant garden, which scarce has its match 
in all the world ; this fairy garden is the little country of 
Lucca, and its happy possessor is the Grand-Duke of 
Tuscany. The gorge leads to a wide valley bounded by 
the finest mountains ; a little fortified town, with the most 
splendid trees on its ramparts, sits wreathed with laurel 
on the luxuriant meadows. This is happy Lucca ; over its 
main gate the arms of the republic are placed a libertas 
in stone. At the railroad-station outside the wall of the 
town I had the pleasure of meeting my cousins again. 
We drove together to the town of Lucca, and afterwards 
to Marlia, the country residence of the Grand-Ducal 
family. 

This summer-residence of the merry princess Bacciochi, 
sister of Napoleon, united Italian charm, Southern abun- 
dance, with Northern freshness and Northern care. This 
not very large palace, or rather villa, looks over the green 
meadows through splendid rich trees on the blessed plain 
and its surrounding hills ; whilst on the other side of the 
hill a crescent-shaped cascade-fountain, in the noble old 
Italian style, closes the garden with an ever fresh and 
animated picture. As in Marlia, so also in the whole 



LUCCA. 97 

valley of Lucca, there is a peaceful rest, which fills the 
mind with a sense of happiness, as you view the green 
fertile country under the deep blue sky. I found the 
Grand-Ducal family well, and was received by them in a 
truly affectionate manner. 

It was arranged that I should stay for dinner, and then 
pass the night in Lucca. The forenoon was devoted to 
the surroundings of Marlia, and we went at once to the 
' Specula,' an unfinished building intended for an obser- 
vatory, the lofty position of which offered a fine view, 
made more charming in the direction of Florence by a 
lovely lake. From this we drove to the garden of Marlia, 
and looked at some horses kept there by the Grand-Duke. 
The stable was once a chapel, where the former Bourbon 
Regent of Lucca took it into his head to hold Greek and 
Roman services at great expense ; from this we went to the 
villa Bernardin. This villa and its garden were of the 
genuine Italian type of times past. I like everything that 
has a characteristic stamp. How sublime are the wide 
avenues of melancholy evergreens ! How dimly shine the 
dark leafy walks ! How excellently well the parterres 
combine with the not always large, but always grand 
buildings! and how adapted to a country residence are 
the water-works which refresh the eye, and the mysterious 
grottoes, genuine ( bagatelles de grand seigneur /' 

After dinner I drove out with the eldest son of the 
Grand-Duke through the beautiful country to Lucca, the 
former capital of that little paradise, which combines 
every charm of nature and art : beautifully-shaped high 
mountains, a most fertile plain, a lovely lake, beneficial 
baths, and an interesting miniature capital, which exhibits, 
however, very little life now, as there is no Court whatever 
kept here. Looking around upon town and country one 
can understand the difficulty Duke Charles felt, after the 
death of Marie Louise, in changing this Court for the 

TOL. I. H 



98 RECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

throne of the larger state of Parma. Most of the Italian 
cities have a mediaeval stamp, and so it is with Lucca; 
but as the numerous divisions of this Peninsula have 
been done away with, and the smaller states have been 
swallowed up in the larger, these towns appear deserted 
and dead, an impression which is increased by the scarcity 
of shops. But in all these towns you are certain to 
see three things : churches, palaces, and at least one 
theatre. We looked at three of the Houses of God in 
Lucca. One of them, St. Ferdinand, was an extremely 
old Byzantine-Loinbardic specimen of architecture, with 
a mosaic on its facade, and an old Lombardic baptismal 
font of white marble. The front of the cathedral is rich 
with ornament in the best Lombardic style ; over the 
entrances runs a graceful gallery. I love columns, and 
carved work, as I do painted windows in churches. It 
beautifies but does not distract; but the rococo ornaments 
look clumsy and cold in churches. The interior of the 
church is severely simple, and full of dignity ; the ceiling 
is painted in fresco, ornamented with stars ; the interior 
is embellished with paintings of Fra Bartolomeo, a monk 
deeply imbued with a love of art, who endowed his angels 
with the innocence of his own soul. 

In most of the Catholic churches that beautiful custom 
prevails of a wonder-working image, which forms the 
centre of devotion ; and here, therefore, is a small chapel 
in the nave of the church, which is the centre of faith for 
devoted souls. II Santo Volto is the one to which the 
people of Lucca pay their devotions. It is a very old 
crucifix, on which the Redeemer is represented crowned 
with very valuable jewels, and wrapped in a dark gold 
embroidered coat, This dress had a touching effect upon 
me, for never before had I seen the Saviour suspended on 
the Cross in the garb of a king. The contrast is powerful 
and does not miss its effect. 



PISA. 99 

The Grand-Duke came with his younger son from 
Marlia, and found us already in the palace, a fine and 
somewhat sombre building in the cinque-cento style. The 
staircase, a more modern work, is admired, but I cannot 
see anything remarkable in it ; it leads to a fine gallery, 
which contains marble copies of the most celebrated 
statues ; but copies are after all corpses of the originals, 
the soul of which is wanting. In the evening we went to 
the theatre, where Luisa Miller was given, a tedious opera 
of Verdi, for the end of which we did not wait, but went 
to bed. 

Florence, August 28, 1851. 

Very early in the morning we hurried to the station, 
and steam carried us only too soon beyond the boun- 
daries of the lovely Lucca, and on to Pisa. It might 
be thought, perhaps, that our first visit at Pisa would 
have been made to the Cathedral Square, to see the lean- 
ing tower, the Campo Santo, &c. ; but I confess that my 
first wish was to see the camels bred in Pisa. On a wide 
meadow, at the skirts of a wood, we first saw with eager- 
ness these sand-waders going to their work. What a plea- 
sure it was to see them again ! It transported me to my 
dear, bright Smyrna. The camels, with their half-swim- 
ming gait, with their dry desert-skin, recalled pleasant 
recollections. The most ugly animal that went forth from 
the creative hand of Grod is so closely connected with the 
rich fancies and traditions of the East, that on their ap- 
pearance the dreams of the East, the sorceries of the 
Arabian Nights, were immediately kindled. The camels of 
Pisa are smaller than those of Asia Minor, as is the case 
with most animals when man in his tyranny transports 
them from one zone to another. It is princes, chiefly, that 
have these odd passions, and who like to subjugate nature 
to their whims ; and the camel-stud of Pisa is a princely 
freak, ascribed to my great-grandfather, Leopold II. 

H 2 



100 RECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

Large woods surround the stables, and the camels are 
made to carry the wood from them on their quivering 
humps. Not contented with seeing these animals, I, of 
course, must also mount one, that I might transplant myself 
entirely back into the desert. But the lying down and 
getting up of these long-legged, heavy creatures, is such 
an awkward operation, and one hangs so between heaven 
and earth on their high backs and clumsy saddles, that 
a ride on a camel is decidedly one of the most disagreeable 
things in the world. If the animal commences trotting, 
body and soul can hardly be kept together, and even a 
steeple-chase could scarcely be more dangerous for one's 
bones than a camel ride ; for in the first, one breaks at 
worst a leg, but here you may get all your bones broken. 
We also saw a giraffe of rare beauty and size ; the present 
of some Bey on the African coast to the Grand-Duke, a 
wondrously lovely animal and a mysterious combination ; 
for its head is that of an antelope, its neck a snake's, its 
skin a tiger's, at once graceful and awkward, an animal 
having to reach its food from the palms, to wade through 
the Nile, and too free to be useful to man for anything. 

The cathedral Piazza, and the banks of 1 the Arno, with 
the old palaces, and the lovely Spina, are the most 
interesting parts of the old town of Pisa. We first ex- 
amined the baptistry, a large cupola rotunda in the finest 
Byzantine-Lombardic style, standing apart, opposite the 
cathedral. In this lovely building, the heads of the 
columns, the many statues, the rich ornaments, and va- 
rieties of stone, and the dome, like a finely chiselled tiara, 
are most interesting. My attention was particularly ex- 
cited by a pulpit in the Byzantine form, like those in 
St. Mark, supported by antique columns of the finest 
stones ; and, again, I admired the mystical ornaments of 
our ancestors. The richly-coloured chapel gave us the 
first idea of the Pietra-dura on a large scale, which we saw 



THE FRESCOES AT PISA. 101 

later, and on a finer scale, in the Cathedral of Florence. 
From this we went to the Campo Santo, a fine conception, 
such as could only be created by the believing middle 
ages. Round a large grassplot runs, open towards it, 
a light and yet stately gothic gallery, supported by five 
columns and arches. The interior of the hall is orna- 
mented with frescoes of Giotto, tombstones, and a kind of 
museum, which is not in its place there. In the middle 
of the grassplot stands a simple stone cross, beautifully 
interlaced with roses. The frescoes are the first things 
which attract attention : they sprang from the childhood 
of Italian art, and one can recognise in the bold lines, in 
the animated grouping, the transition from the typical 
period to the perfection of nature, and, indeed, I prefer 
those periods of art in which the spirit is awakened in the 
type, and aspires towards a more beautiful future the 
age of Raphael, to the later schools which exhibit the 
genius of the classical times in a state of decay. This 
school is the worst contrast to the typical school, as the 
latter means the vigorous awakening, and the other the 
luxurious falling asleep of art. How should our faithless 
material time be able to express the mysteries of simple 
Christianity ? A painter, making the painting of re- 
ligious pictures a business, and painting merely for his 
purse, can only produce earthly figures, and he gives 
them, because it is part of the business, a name from the 
Sacred Calendar. 

The frescoes of the Campo Santo have an original 
freshness. It is an unparalleled Vandalism to have 
placed between them clumsy and tasteless monuments ; 
Grecian tombs in a Grot hie hall and under Italian fresco 
paintings ! To my great amusement, the cicerone became 
furious at being compelled to show the Tedeschi around, 
the more so as they expressed themselves about these 
monstrosities with anger and derision, and were astonished 



102 RECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

to find in a Catholic cemetery an antique bronze griffin, 
idols, and other museum-rubbish, of no consequence 
whatever. But it is an Italian custom to bring together 
bigotry and heathendom under the same roof. In the 
celebrated frescoes of the Campo Santo there is sometimes 
too great a freedom of fancy, almost bordering on the 
ludicrous ; but this was the strange taste of the childhood 
of art, and is still the taste of vigorous fresh minds, that 
reproduce unaltered whatever their childlike innocence 
conceives. Thus it is with the creation of Eve, the ancestor 
of our race, who is represented, with biblical fidelity, with- 
out any covering at all : and so also you see the empire 
of the prince of the world in the hideous fancy of that 
time. A herd of roaring wolves, exhibiting the most 
peculiar caricatures, is quite diabolical. The poor sons 
of man are treated in the most barbarous manner, and 
are fried in hell ; I perceived in their company many 
tonsured heads. The painter would seem to be no friend 
of the ecclesiastical orders, as several of its members are 
discovered in very strange positions. The soul of the 
dying is represented by the artist as a homunculus, which 
either as an angel or as a devil, according to circumstances, 
marches out of the mouth of the expiring mortal. It 
looks very odd to see how painfully wide the mouth has 
sometimes to be opened to let the soul pass. The souls 
which require more room are probably the strong ones. 
But, horror ! who is that dark boy, who is busy carry- 
ing away by force the soul of a nun ? he seems to be no 
angel of light ! I perceive two little horns : 0, Heavens ! 
it is a servant of Satan ! Indeed art was then free in 
Italy, and could be so, for it had fixed the limits of faith. 
The Pisans recognise with delight the head of Napoleon 
in hell in one of them, and this is but natural ; it is 
characteristic of mankind to condemn the hated fallen 
enemy, and to rejoice over his disgrace ; one does not 



THE CATHEDRAL AT PISA. 103 

risk anything by it, for he has become harmless. As long 
as the Pisan hell-figure was called Roi d'ltalie, there was 
not gold enough to be found to represent the nimbus 
in his apotheosis ; but the god of the day fell from the 
heavens, and the holy light was converted into the glow 
of hell. Sic transit gloria mundi. 

Before leaving the Campo Santo with its grand past, 
its old-world poetry, and its new destinies as a pantheon, 
I must mention that earth which gave it its mysterious 
charm and its chief attraction in the eyes of our be- 
lieving ancestors. It is said to have been brought from 
the Holy Land by the Crusaders, and in addition to its 
being on that account sacred amongst Christians, a pe- 
culiar quality is ascribed to it, which is very curiously 
shown in one of the frescoes. A corpse is exhibited in 
three phases : in the first the soul is only just departed, 
on the second day decay is in full activity, and on the 
third the skeleton is freed from the flesh, and nothing is 
left but framework. This is the virtue of the earth from 
Jerusalem, which destroys the bodies buried in it in three 
days. The Pisans rejoiced at this extraordinarily rapid 
destruction, but this hunger of time shocked me. 

From the Campo Santo we went to the Cathedral. How 
magnificent is this rich marble building, with its long nave, 
at the end of which, over the altar rises, as an everlasting 
canopy, the lofty cupola ! I do like to ascend to the House 
of God by broad steps to a large portal, and not, as is too 
often the case in Italy, find it on a level with the coffee- 
house and the theatre. 

We Germans use the word * erhaben ' to express some- 
thing great. The sublime must stand high ; this is a 
desire of the human mind ; it elevates in order to be ele- 
vated. The ascending is ennobling, and the descending is 
only becoming to the great ones, and is then called 
' Herablassung.' And how religion awakens this inclina- 



104 KECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

tion ! At the sacrifice of the mass we look up, and in the 
communion, in the mingling of earth and heaven, the Most 
High bends down to us in the shape of the bread. As 
with the Church and the altar, so with the throne, and so 
with everything that, according to the laws of the world, 
is placed high : everywhere must steps or degrees separate 
the uncommon from the common. So in the Cathedral of 
Pisa one walks up large broad steps, through artistically 
carved doors, into wide sacred spaces. On high columns 
rests a light elegant Gothic gallery, which also runs over 
the side naves, and round the large principal nave. This 
is the manner in which many churches are built in Tus- 
cany. A wide, high arch spans the principal nave, the 
ceiling of which, constructed by the pomp-loving Medicis, 
is replete with gold. The most curious thing of this rich 
church is a dark bronze lamp, which unconsciously enriched 
the world with a great invention, by throwing a spark into 
the mind of one of the giants of science, and causing it to 
flare up in a bright flame. It was vesper time ; the dark 
lamp was burning to the praise of God, and the sacristan 
having just drawn back his hand, the lamp swung to 
and fro. A man in a plain coat stood musingly leaning 
against one of the high columns ; he looked for a long 
time at the steady swinging of the lamp, then looked down 
thoughtfully, and Galileo had found that which gave life 
to mechanism, namely, the principle of the pendulum. 
In the leaning tower, which we ascended, this great man 
discovered, as a marble inscription states, the principle 
of gravitation, by letting a stone fall through the hollow 
interior from a height of one hundred and forty-two feet. 
The tower is peculiar, and has character, but I cannot 
call it handsome, neither can I get enthusiastic about its 
obliquity; it is an interesting object for architects, but 
only in the same degree as an abnormal crooked body is 
for medical men. For my own part I should prefer to see 



THE LEANING TOWER OF PISA. 105 

the tower straight ; as it is, it looks like a drunken man, 
whose tumbling down one expects every moment, or re- 
sembles the constrained oblique position of a tightly-laced 
minuet dancer. From the upper platform of the tower 
one enjoys a view that is reputed splendid ; but I thought 
it only extensive ; in a different light it may appear more 
to advantage. After examining the building more closely, 
I cannot believe that the architects, William von Insbruck 
and Bonano, created this architectural monstrosity on pur- 
pose ; obviously the stone ring of the base has sunk. 
Such a jejune joke might perhaps have sprung from the 
last century ; but in 1 1 74 they had a too pure love for art 
to commit such absurdities. A noble axiom is better than 
the best wit, and so it is also in art. Pisa suffers much 
from earthquakes, and to this circumstance I imagine the 
Pisans owe their condescending, polite tower. 

Pisa possesses a genius of a rare kind, an artist who in 
his own time has not been surpassed. He does not work in 
marble, nor does he paint in colours on the dead canvas ; 
but he creates life from skin and bones, and uses the re- 
mains of nature to form new beings ; in a word, he is a 
stuffer of animals, and enriches the museum of natural 
products, near which he has established a kind of manu- 
factory, with zoological specimens, which seem to be only 
arrested in their functions of life. In general, I do not 
like such stuffed things ; it reminds me too much of the 
artificial preservation of corpses, to which, as an enthusiast 
for the burning of the dead, I am adverse. The body 
seems to fly after the soul in the flames that devour it ; it 
is not crammed in a dark coffin, nor exposed to the will of 
those remaining behind; but notwithstanding these philo- 
sophical ramblings, in which I like to indulge, I found the 
animals in the museum of Pisa worth notice. 

One word of Lung' Arno and its lovely Spina. Although 
the Arno is here tame and brook-like, yet the palaces and 



106 RECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

houses along the quays are picturesque, and give an in- 
teresting picture of past times. Amongst the palaces, the 
stranger is shown that in which Byron lived ; it is, in an 
architectural point of view pretty, and reminds one, as does 
the Lung' Arno, generally of Venice. The Spina, of which 
the supports stand in the bed of the river, is a chapel in 
the Gothic style, with thousands of delicate ornaments, with 
little towers and points (from which it derives its name), 
combining all the loveliness and seriousness of the old 
style of building, a true jewel, a relique which one fancies 
is built of a finer material than marble. It was a pity 
that we could not admire the interior of the old building. 

In the palace of the Grand-Duke, a mean-looking private 
house, we met its possessor and his younger son, in order 
to go with them to Florence after breakfast. Before this 
short meal, I became acquainted with the Tuscan hymn, 
and was struck and pleased with its enthusiastic, nay, its 
almost wild strain. It has no religious, sublime music like 
the matchless Austrian hymn, but there is enthusiasm in 
it, and it suits Republican countries very well. 

Good-bye, lovely, sedate Pisa ! Friendly cemetery ! The 
steam is hissing, and we rush from the dreams of the past 
in a prosaic and material fashion over classic, historical 
ground. The little land looks very cultivated and happy. 
Naples is said to be a piece fallen down from Paradise- 
fallen down from the clouds, a favourite of fortune ; but 
the Florentine country has been changed to a paradise by 
the industry of man. It is a child of the earth raised to 
its high position by ceaseless exertion. And then this lovely 
plain of Florence, girt with hills, which we now enter. This 
peaceable blooming country, where hundreds of friendly 
villas, villages, and luxuriant gardens surround the city of 
the arts, like a fragrant wreath of flowers. The cupola of 
the cathedral, with its golden cross, greets us from amongst 
the masses of houses, which, amidst the green of the plain, 



FLORENCE. 107 

gently ascend the hills. It is no grand, overpowering 
picture, but one of peaceable, pleasant rest. Naples is the 
city of youth; Florence that of those whose minds seek 
repose. The city of Vesuvius excites, that of the Arno 
lulls the soul to a balmy rest. From the large fine railway 
station we made our way into the architectural streets of 
Florence. This first entrance into an unknown, remark- 
able, and much-talked-of city created a peculiar feeling, for 
there rises before the mind, which glows with expectation, 
a chaotic picture. One tries to explain everything, one 
guesses at everything, and the head gets dizzy with the 
hundred impressions that fly past. After some experience 
one recognises the wonderful sights, learns to love them, 
only to be compelled, after a few days, to leave what 
has become a friend. One has just time enough to 
discern the beautiful, without being able to enjoy it at 
leisure. So it was with me with lovely Florence, the mild 
daughter of the muses. As yet I did not understand 
all I saw. I knew only that I had crossed the Arno, 
and was astonished at its bridges, of which one is so 
light and full of poetry, and is yet built as strong as 
marble ; the other, resting on secure arches, and bearing, 
like an odd joke, a little town of booth-like houses, as a 
gay decoration left from the middle ages. Another thing 
I recognised, when I found myself opposite a large dark 
rock-castle, standing majestically on a height. I knew 
that it was the gigantic house of the proud Pitti, piled up 
by a citizen in 1440, from rough pieces of rock, in spite of 
the pomp-loving Medicis, to whom, however, he had to 
leave the finishing, and who gave to the gigantic work the 
name ' Pitti.' Earnest, terribly earnest, is that sublime 
rock-castle, and behind the rough uncouth walls one would 
expect cool stalactite grottoes, and not golden halls. How 
surprising appears, therefore, the back view of the palace ! 
Three sides of the dark building surround a rather small 



108 KECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

yard. On its fourth side, from a terrace at the height of 
the first story, over a grotto, with a fresh spring, the 
wide Boboli garden opens magically, which, with its foun- 
tain, its avenues, its grass plots, marble statues, and its 
Belvedere crowning its height, contains within itself all 
the advantages offered by nature, enhanced by those of 
art. Thus the garden runs along the two side aisles of the 
palace, and suddenly arrested in the middle by the high 
stone wall sustained by the grotto, leaves space for the 
court lying below. The Pitti palace enjoys the wonderful 
advantage of a building built on a hill. It commands all 
around it, and is in turn commanded by a garden, which, 
without being suspected from the city side, is seen from 
the windows of the pleasant rooms. It is a pity that the 
grand staircase, although large enough in itself, is not 
large enough for this rock building. How suitable here 
would be the staircase of Caserta ! But modern art creates 
grand details, and rarely a great whole. The Greeks only 
were equal to both. On the Acropolis only is to be 
found a Parthenon, with its matchless harmony. We 
entered the large apartments ; but they are in the style 
de I'empire. All the solid magnificence of the Medicis has 
been destroyed, to be replaced by Napoleonic insipidities. 
But one treasure of a rare kind has been spared by the 
passion for renovation. This is the 6 pietra dura,' the 
solid, delicately-worked monumental room-furniture, which 
belongs to a branch of art peculiar to Florence. 

But this branch of art can only be recommended for 
furniture. The tables, with garlands of fruit and flowers, 
with shells and strings of pearls on the mild lapis 
lazuli, or on dark deep reflecting ground ; the high re- 
naissance-cabinets, glittering like little castles or temples 
with all the wonderful colours which nature has given to 
her stones ; all this lovely detail, by years of exertion 
brought together, has, indeed, a grand and princely ap- 



THE SISTINE MADONNA. 109 

pearance, and exhibits the riches of the old Florentine 
sovereign-house. No gold can replace the enamel of the 
polished stones, and where marble and porphyry, lapis 
lazuli and jewels are in abundance, there is genuine 
wealth, solid luxury, the value of which does not change 
with years. 

But now I had to make a hurried visit to a family, a 
member of which I had already seen and admired in 
Dresden, and I felt an irresistible longing for her heavenly 
mild Florentine relations. I was still filled with the im- 
pression of the Madonna Sistina, who feels so deeply and 
understands with such a sad pride the wonderful child she 
bears on her arms, and that her hands are the throne of 
the great Son of (rod. In her look one reads that she 
venerates herself as the instrument of the Almighty, that 
she feels the greatness of her duties, the greatness of her 
sufferings, but also the immensity of her transfiguration ; 
and so she steps out of the clouds with majestic bearing, 
as the holy queen of the angels, and exhibits to the expec- 
tant multitude in that child their Eedeemer. She hears 
the hosannas of ten thousand rejoicing lips, but she has 
also a foreboding of the crucifix. No glory ornaments 
the head, neither gold nor jewels are woven in the simple 
modest garment. In this picture the mother of Christ is 
not surrounded by pomp, no glitter draws the attention 
from the chief object, which the artists of our time so 
much like to apply, to divert the scrutiny of the visitor. 
The greatest ornament of the Sistine Madonna is the Son, 
and her most holy glory, that of her large clear eyes 
those sublime eyes, filled with devoted faith. In them 
are comfort, truth, and infinite depth ; they mirror, as in 
a calm lake, the pure heavens. And how glorious beyond 
all things is the child resting in her arms ! In this crea- 
tion Raphael forecasts the Redeemer ; for in the serious 
features of the child mav be read the task to be accom- 




110 EECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

plished. From under the dark hair open two large black 
eyes, looking full into the dark sinful world, as if they 
would say, ' I shall conquer you. Tremble, worldly sinner, 
before the child who, at some time, will judge and punish 
you.' He is bending backwards, his shoulders drawn up 
in calm lingering expectation of the struggle with the 
world. 

This grand picture was before my eyes, and now I was 
to make my first acquaintance with the Madonnas of the 
Pitti palace. I am often angry and sorry that I cannot 
be enraptured at once, and lose myself in decisive admi- 
ration. So it happened at this first too short visit to the 
Madonna del Seggiola and del Grranduca: I could not duly 
appreciate them at the moment, and the Sistine Virgin 
floated triumphantly before my mind ; for in her I saw in 
one figure the lofty mother of Christ and the servant of 
the Lord, whilst the Madonna Seggiola is only the con- 
tented blooming mother, and that of the Grranduca the 
humble devoted servant. But a second more leisurely 
stay before the pictures will, I think, modify these feelings. 
The Pitti gallery, that rare jewel in Florence's rich crown, 
is situated in the right wing of the castle, from which, as 
from a throne, one has a splendid outlook on the city and 
country, on the distant villas, gardens, and mountains. 

In the afternoon we went into the cathedral, passing 
over the bridge of houses, a floating little town, inside 
which is a bazaar containing scarcely anything but gold- 
ware. To the right and the left glitter gold and silver 
boxes, earrings and chains, reminding one of the East and 
Smyrna's goldsmith streets. The cathedral is a pure and 
noble work of Italian architecture. It is built in the form 
of a cross, with a high, wide, sky-like cupola over the 
high altar. The steeple and outside walls are covered 
with the finest rich-coloured marbles, offering a beautiful 
picture, which would be perfect if the casing of the facade 



THE CATHEDRAL AT FLORENCE. Jll 

were not wanting, which was torn off to make place for a 
modern one, which never was completed. 

The interior is wide and sublime, at once majestic and 
simple. Almost all the altars were cleverly removed, so 
that an undivided attention is directed on the high altar, 
over which the Last Judgment arches with its hundreds of 
figures. It produces an excellent impression, for all is 
united round the altar, which, by the light passing through 
the fine glass paintings, is enveloped in a mysterious twi- 
light. Round the main altar in a half-circle there are 

o 

some chapels with altars ; everything else is in simple 
harmony. I ascended to the cupola. Round its interior 
run two galleries, and over it, like a case, is a second 
cupola ; between the two one creeps to the lantern. From 
gallery to gallery, and from the height of the lantern, I 
was constantly looking down into the church. The ob- 
jects became smaller and smaller, bringing out the im- 
posing grandeur and boldness of the whole. As the 
details became less distinct, the whole mass sprang out, 
and the view gained repose and clearness. Just the 
reverse was it with the fresco pictures of the Last Judg- 
ment. What caricatures the figures became ! How the 
Satans stretched themselves out, and how improperly near 
one comes to the sometimes rather free details of the artist's 
fancy, which of course when seen from below disappear in 
the ensemble! We stepped on the outside of the lantern, 
and before us lay Florence. A long silver ribbon divided 
the city. To the left is the more modern half, with the 
dark Pitti Palace, embellished by the green Boboli, at the 
top of which looks peaceably enough from amidst fresh 
vegetation, the Belvedere ; farther on is a sombre avenue 
of cypresses, like a green colonnade, to the Poggio Impe- 
riale ; that part of the city loses itself in the lovely hills ; 
single villages and steeples beckon from afar, till at last 
the mountains finish the picture. To the right of the old 



112 RECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

river is the heart of the city, the seat of the palaces, of 
art, and of the churches, and out of its dark roofs the 
cathedral rises like a fresh flower. There, one sees the 
Palazzo Vecchio, with its tower and battlements. There, 
appear the long roofs of the Uffizzi, Santa Croce, Maria 
Novella, and all the genuine religious buildings of past 
centuries. By the side of them could be seen the little 
interiors, little gardens and terraces, and above all, the 
wide, green, happy valley, the soft hills, and at the out- 
skirt mountains as the closing background. Lovely villas 
crowned the hills and hung on the mountains, the tops of 
which, however, are not so fresh as the country. Happily 
and sweetly, Florence reposes in the green Arno valley, 
like a tender blossom with refreshing fragrance ; and a full 
right has the city to a flower in its escutcheon, for one 
rarely sees a place so abundantly gifted with the fresh 
gifts of Flora. Everywhere one sees gardens replete with 
roses, jasmine, carnations, and other flowers, of such 
fragrance that one lives in a balmy atmosphere. My 
climbing-rage had not yet been satisfied by the ascent to 
the gallery of the lantern. I had heard of the globe 
under the cross. 'Forward !' was the word, and up the 
interior of a column, like a chimney-sweeper, from one iron 
bolt to the other, I got into the middle globe, from which 
I became acquainted with the temperature of the Venetian 
lead-chambers. Still a few more turns, and I was on the 
highest eminence in Florence, with the upper half of my 
body outside, immediately below the cross of the cathedral. 
My fancy was satisfied, and I felt free and alone. I had 
an idea of the joy of the swallow on the top of a roof. 
The penknife of my cousin was sacrificed that I might 
engrave my initials upon the Christian symbol. 

We next drove to the Cascine, the arena of Florentine 
lions ; and in the long leafy avenues, stretching along the 
Arno, we met the most elegant equipages, so that you 



THE PITTI GALLERY. 113 

might fancy yourself in Hyde Park, or on the Boulevards, 
or in the Prater. At the Grand-Ducal farmbuildings 
Cascine (after which the popular promenade is named), 
stood a perfect host of carriages around an Austrian 

military band. 

Florence, August 29, 1851. 

Our morning-walk was to the Pitti gallery. Such a 
collection could only have been made in the youthful 
glow of art two centuries ago. The Medici had a fore- 
taste of this, and acting upon it were creators of the 
immortal monuments of their time. They wedded to the 
learning of Greece the art of a Christian period. In the 
first room into which I came stood the Madonna della 
Seggiola ready for copying. Why, in looking at this, does 
the Sistine Madonna always come into my mind? There 
may be perhaps a resemblance in the features. Both have 
the same body, but not the same mind. The Sistine 
Madonna is a vision of one glorified after combat and 
suffering, the Seggiola is a wanderer upon earth, whose 
hour of trouble has not come, who is calmly, nay com- 
fortably, sitting on a chair which her coming glory has not 
yet changed into a throne. She bends softly over the 
Eedeemer who is clinging to her, and looks with those 
contemplative eyes, which only Eaphael can paint, mild 
and touching, like the moon on a pure night. 

The colours of this picture have that mysterious haze, 
that freshness without brightness, that soft, veiling film, 
peculiar to his art and to some only of his works. 

Kaphael painted the Sistine Madonna with heavenly 
insight, the Seggiola with passionate love, the Grand uca 
with the heart of a child. The latter, indeed, has a nearer 
resemblance to a German than to a Jewish maid. She is 
a prayer, still and peaceful, whilst the Sistina expresses 
ecstasy. In speaking of Eaphael, the king of artists and 
embodied angels, I must not forget the Madonna del 

VOL. I. I 



114 RECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

Baldacchino and the Santa Familia dell' Imparmata. I 
cannot help following my taste and not the judgment of the 
world, and confess that both pictures made no impression 
on me, and the latter displeased me in spite of my desire 
to like it. Two portraits, representing Angiolo Donni and 
his wife, interested me, as they enabled me to under- 
stand, or rather not to understand, the immense difference 
between these works of Raphael and his master-pieces. The 
Madonna Sistina and Magdalen Donni show the develop- 
ment of the human soul from the seed to the blossom. 

Before the vision of Ezekiel I should like to stand 
for hours. A gold frame, a foot and a half high and one 
foot wide, contains the heaven in its glory and in its in- 
finity. This (rod-Father is the creator and director of 
the world ; as a ruler of the universe he is reposing on 
the throne of clouds supported by the mysterious symbols 
of the Evangelists; a God of the Old Testament, Jehovah, 
before whom one tremblingly sinks into the dust, absorbed 
in adoration, and yet elevated by the thought that each of 
us has been created after his likeness, and that the eternal 
soul in the perishable vessel emanated from Him who 
was, is now, and ever will be. If I might be permitted 
to say so after what I have just said, I should say that the 
figure of the Almighty had something of that inhabitant 
of the Parthenon, the thunderer Zeus. But the God of 
the world, the aim of all faith from the commencement to 
eternity, and the unchangeable in Jupiter and Odin, are 
blended in this figure. The grey hair and large waving 
beard float grandly around the earnest features full of the 
dignity of age and of power ; his arms lifted up in blessing 
are high over the clouds. What a different picture from 
this, how full of effect and yet without any charm, is that 
picture of his contemporary, the ParcaB of Michael Angelo ! 
These seem created by the chisel, not with the soft brush- 
bronze Parcse, who can only spin an iron thread, a thread 



THE PITTI GALLEEY. 115 

of Michael Angel o. He has with the strength of a hero 
dragged them from the lower regions, to give us a solid 
earnest memento mori. 

Murillo has paid his tribute to the collection in two 
Madonnas. One of these Madonnas is a mistake : she is 
painted to represent the features of a Duchess of Urbino 
and her child ; a handsome, serious woman, but no mother 
of the Lord. The other is a worthy sister of that in 
Dresden, a charming picture of religious reality; it is 
no hierarchic-aristocratic mother of the Lord, but a 
mother from amongst the people, not severe and divine, 
but delicate and full of enthusiasm ; quite in contrast to 
a mother and child of Eubens, which belong to the fat, 
well-to-do class of the people, to the Dutch citizens. 
Eubens is a painter of men, vigorous and genial ; but his 
female figures are over-healthy and too well fed, stifling 
the spirit. But what a splendid picture is that in which 
he has represented himself, his brother, Justus Lipsius 
and Hugo Grrotius. From these features a noble, ener- 
getic life speaks plainly ; with broad firm strokes, without 
too much finish , he has given what he intended to give, 
a company of able, interesting men. Here also is my dear 
Vandyke again, in connexion with his finest and most 
charming theme, England's unfortunate royal couple. It 
is only painted as a bust : one sees the airy figure of the 
tender queen, not quite as in the gallery of Dresden, but 
still this picture has a melancholy charm of its own ; one 
sees Charles and Henrietta in mourning, sombre and lovely, 
unhappy and melancholy. On Charles' serious features the 
mournful future has settled like a crape ; he is a victim of 
the noblest kind who submitted to fate too passively, 
too unresistingly ; he failed through weakness and yet 
must have been exceedingly graceful, and in no way re- 
pulsive, like Louis XVI. Both had an opportunity, if not 

to live well, at least to die well. How was it that the 

i 2 



116 RECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

wives of both were so handsome and so lovely? Why 
must the sweet and gentle be ever the victims ? 

With Marie Antoinette I became acquainted in Inns- 
bruck and Dresden. I was ever enthusiastic about the 
former, and the latter I was taught to admire by Vandyke. 
I have never seen any picture that attracted me so mag- 
netically as that of Charles I.'s consort. Her lily head 
rests proudly and sweetly on her slender, fine neck ; her 
complexion and features are delicate, and shine like ivory, 
and yet they are decided ; and under the dazzling forehead, 
ornamented with lightly- falling little curls, dwell a pair of 
eyes to which only melancholy and a wounded heart could 
give that softness and that indescribably attractive force. 
Grace is the word for Marie Antoinette, pensiveness for 
Maria Henrietta. 

Andrea del Sarto, the simple unpretending Florentine 
artist, par excellence, whom I learnt here first to value and 
admire, is endowed with one of those divine sparks which 
light, and warm, and kindle. His works are earnest, and 
full of Southern glow altogether the expression of 
ardent devotion and deep faith. Could one compare re- 
ligious painting with church architecture, the style of 
Andrea would correspond to the Byzantine-Venetian; 
Raphael's, to that of the old Italian, and that of good 
honest Durer to the pure Gothic German. Of the latter 
a poor Eve naked, and feeling cold, is lost among the 
Italian fulness. She is standing awkwardly amongst all 
the richly-formed Madonnas ; but she is true and full of 
character, like the old painter himself full of life, but 
not sensual. But to return to Andrea; I only recol- 
lect his Holy Family in the Stanza di Marte. Whoever 
has seen this picture of devout faith must love and vene- 
rate him. Opposite this masterpiece hangs the imposing 
Judith of Allori. This great God-inspired woman, this 
proud widow, who, for the sake of her faith and her people, 



THE PITTI GALLERY. 117 

rose with antique strength, and proceeded after penance 
and prayer to the bloody but necessary work, is to me one 
of the most interesting figures from the book of life. 
There are only a few amongst the better artists who dared 
to represent this gigantic woman, and only a few succeeded 
in creating a Judith in her dreadful triumph, earnest and 
glowing with devotion they either created a frantic Bac- 
chante, or a weak soul that would have never sacrificed 
the commander of the enemy to her country. Allori and 
Kiedl have accomplished that task. With both it is the 
worthy Jewish widow, the woman of the Old Testament, 
who undertook the deed because she must do it ; without 
any quaking of the soul, and also without any vain longing 
for the triumph that was awaiting her. It is this sad ne- 
cessity, this melancholy necessity of sacrificing to be herself 
a sacrifice, in which the German master has, perhaps, carried 
off the palm. These are the pictures of which I think with 
love, and which have become dear friends to me. 

Benvenuto Cellini is a poet who uses, in the place of 
words, gold and the lively rich colours of enamel. His 
gold cups are surrounded by sweet pictures of fancy, groups 
from rich and sweet dreams, amply shown in the small but 
exquisite collection of his works of art in the Pitti Palace, 
which, like a rough large mountain, has in its veins the 
finest treasures and the most precious metals. 

On the ground floor of the Pitti is a collection of statues 
and a chapel. The latter I disliked altogether for its 
heathenish style and its bas-reliefs mere trash, and not 
worthy of the royal palace. To give the mind time to 
digest the hundreds of fermenting things, we drove to the 
Boboli, and rested there. This is a garden as a garden 
ought to be grand, princely, as is befitting to such palaces. 
In the Pitti garden breathes the spirit of the Medici, with 
their proud pomp. 

From these gigantic avenues we went to a manufactory, 



118 RECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

but a manufactory producing works of art, and the insti- 
tution of which does not belong to our material age, but 
is still a witness of the richness and pomp of past days 
in the manufacture of pietra-dura. These clever stone 
combinations furnish table tops, rich coloured ornaments, 
altars, cabinets, and similar objects, real monumental works, 
massy and yet light, as smooth as mirrors, and charming 
the eye by harmony of colour. In future times, when the 
pietra-dura shall be dug out of rubbish and decay, it will 
excite the just admiration of posterity. The works made 
of it are constructed with extraordinary pains. Amongst 
hundreds of pieces one must be found which has the shade 
of a certain flower, or the colour of its leaves. This is 
now cut to a paper pattern with a wire besmeared with 
emery, and then fitted to the other stones which make 
the picture, or rather so set, that, except it is required by 
the drawing, the jointure is not perceived. The stone 
out of which that little portion has been cut is now laid 
in a box containing the ore resembling it in material and 
colour, and there it remains until it is again wanted for a 
shade or a colour. The expense and trouble caused by such 
a manufactory may, therefore, be imagined ; but the re- 
sults are splendid. Of the things we saw already finished 
I was particularly struck by altar walls for the Chapel St. 
Lorenzo, which, on the finest lapis lazuli ground, repre- 
sented attributes of the Church. These really perfect 
works have a very agreeable, peculiar, and brilliant fresh- 
ness, produced by the polished stone. The crown of all 
that has yet been produced is the table of the Muses, 
finished after twenty years' work. In the middle of it the 
visitor admires victorious Phoebus, worthily represented in 
the manner and colour of an antique; and both horses 
and driver are drawn in a masterly fashion. It is one of 
those masterpieces which, like the cameo of Augustus, or 
the salt-cellar of Benvenuto Cellini, will have an everlast- 



THE TABLE OF THE MUSES. 119 

ing name in the history of art ; it is also, probably, the 
last grand masterpiece on lapis lazuli, as this beautiful 
precious stone, which hitherto came from Persia, is no 
longer an article of merchandise, and is not now sent to 

o * 

the manufactory. 

The value of the academy which we then visited we could 
not thoroughly appreciate, as several rooms were covered 
with grey holland previous to the opening of an exhibition 
of modern pictures ; but I saw that the arrangement in 
regard to the placing of the pictures was excellent, as it 
gives to the amateur, and still more to the artist, an excel- 
lent insight into the gradual development of art. One sees 
from picture to picture how the angular and meagre limbs 
in those of the old artists, become more free and filled out ; 
at a later period one sees how the typical traits must 
give way to the living model, how with the more active 
fancy the devout, childlike imagination flies away, and 
the spirit of Christendom takes a mythological form. I 
was most particularly interested in a picture by Raphael's 
master. It is with art as with love ; before Eaphael it is 
a childlike love, the nearer it approaches to the grand 
masters it becomes conscious, though still- innocent, of 
sensual enjoyment. With Raphael comes the first, glow- 
ing, all-comprehending, penetrating, enjoying love. Our 
time is that of love satisfied, love over-excited, finding 
gratification only in extremes. We were shown with 
pride the plastic work of their newest artist, whose name 
unfortunately escaped me, Cain and Abel represented 
after the murder of Abel, cast in bronze, so beautifully 
and so highly finished that I have not seen the like of it 
even in Munich. The figures are executed on a some- 
what small scale, and I was not pleased with Cain, who is 
turning away in horror when for the first time he sees the 
death of a man. This group and the table of the Muses 
were intended for the London Exhibition in England's big 



120 RECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

glass coffin ; but as the English minister in Florence spread 
the news that the Grand-Duke intended to present the 
table to the Queen, and this prince did not like that a work 
of so many years in execution should pass out of his 
country, nothing was sent to London. 

In the Church of the Annunziata, where we now pro- 
ceeded, are also some excellent Andrea del Sartos, which 
delight one by their fine composition, and soft yet firm 
treatment, and increase our admiration of this Florentine 
master. Though the principal parts of this hall are pro- 
tected against the weather by glass windows, yet the 
pictures are already somewhat faded. I noticed in the 
entrance-hall two bronze basins of fine shape. The 
church is ornamented in the rich, but overloaded taste 
of the last century. A true sanctuary for magnificence 
and richness is one of these chapels, which is replete 
with the finest works in silver and pietra-dura. I noticed 
two slabs, which are so well executed that the shades 
represent the sun and the moon, the former half wrapped 
in vapours. In the cloister-hall over the entrance door, 
is Andrea del Sarto's celebrated fresco picture of the 
Madonna del Sacco, which the artist painted for the pious 
friars for a sack of flour, which fact he has perpetuated in 
the picture. At that time the part of a Maecenas seems 
to have been very easy. Through sundry turnings we 
were led until we stood astonished before a Last Supper 
of Raphael, a fresco only recently found in the store-room 
and saved from destruction, which in spite of the dreadful 
risks and damages it has had to undergo, is still excel- 
lently preserved ; but I fear that it is only half-saved yet, 
for I heard the stamping of horses behind the wall ; the 
humidity of the adjacent stable cannot possibly be very 
beneficial to the fresco. Stable and store-room were once 
the refectory of a cloister. The judges of art have settled 
that the Cena is by Raphael. If this is the case, the 



THE CHAPEL OF THE MEDICI. 121 

work belongs to his middle period and stands half-way 
on the childlike ground. The Cena makes a genial im- 
pression : one feels inclined to sit down at the hospitable 
repast and study without fear its excellent details ; there 
is something of the old Grerman in it, and the key to this 
picture seems to me to be furnished by the portraits of 
the Donni couple in the collection of the Pitti, although 
these belong to a still earlier period. I was especially 
pleased with the youthful head of an apostle, probably 
John, in a listening position. That one on looking at 
this picture should sometimes have doubts whether it is 
really by Kaphael, is I think pardonable ; the judges of 
art are too quick and easy in their decision ; it made on 
me, however, an agreeable impression and under this 
Cena I could enjoy the food of the cloister. We had yet 
to see two chapels : the chapel of the Medici, in which 
repose Cruillo de' Medici, and Lorenzo, Duke of Urbino, 
acquired its fame by the sculptures and the architec- 
ture of Michael Angelo ; it contains Buonarotti's Day and 
Night, about which so many rave ; but I confess that I 
utterly disliked this chapel, nay, that it made on me a 
most disagreeable, cold, and repulsive impression. Here 
are deposited the remains of those for whose speculative 
philosophical vanity this tomb has been erected ; Michael 
Angelo, deep thinking and clearly perceiving the times, 
has perfectly succeeded in this repulsive monument. The 
indecent statues without grace, without soul I might say, 
lying about, show only too plainly from whence the spirit 
came that housed here. The half-sitting, half-lying posi- 
tion, clearly represents the aversion of the vain, foolish 
philosophy to the repose of death ; it struggles against the 
covering of that veil which has not yet been lifted by any 
one, but which wraps the faithful in its peaceful folds. 
These monuments exhibit a morbid struggle of earthly 
greatness with the nothingness of death, and the marble 




122 KECOLLECTIOXS OF MY LIFE. 

has a coldness as if death were mocking life from out of it. 
The word f peace' can never resound from this hall, which 
is not imbued with a Christian spirit, but with a cold 
mythology. These statues of Buonarotti appear to me to 
be too grotesque, and to have already in them the germ 
of the rococo time. I liked no better the Lorenzo chapel, 
the apotheosis of the later Medici, commenced by Fer- 
dinand I., but not entirely finished even now. Every- 
thing is replete with a cold, tawdry richness, without 
the least grace, and one thinks discontentedly of the 
splendid marble grandeur of Caserta. Coffins with many- 
coloured escutcheons, of which I will mention only those 
of Cosmo II. and Ferdinand I., rest proudly against the 
walls, surrounded by the splendour of colours, which, 
however well adapted for other purposes, is absurd in a 
hall of the dead, in which there is not even yet an altar. 
Death has nothing to do with other colours than those of 
the flowers which have alone a right to bloom upon the 
coffin. If one were to remove the sarcophagi and give the 
whole the name of a festival hall, the ornaments would at 
once become fresh and pleasant, and the mocking empti- 
ness would be replaced by vigorous life. Constantinople 
had fallen before the sword of Mohammed, Grrasco-Byzan- 
tine art and philosophy and the rich sciences of the East 
found a home in Italy, through the luxurious spirit of the 
Medici, which in its turn conferred splendour on their 
new dynasty. The tiara was borne by a Medici and the 
hitherto forgotten treasures of Eome were wedded to 
Greek recollections, which brought forth a new epoch in art, 
the Mythologico-Christian. The Lord's Supper was cele- 
brated in the Temple : Venus got the same court-rank 
as the Grod-mother. It was in harmony with such a state 
of things to blend the customs of antiquity with those 
of modern times, and to call this philosophy. But from 
this resulted an unsatisfied Ideal. Men discovered that 



THE CHURCH OF SANTA CROCE. 123 

the gods of antiquity only represented men, and the pride 
of the senses which first produced great things in art and 
science, took possession of the heart, and laid in it the germ 
of atheism. The very princes believed themselves to be 
a kind of divinity, needing no longer to be afraid of the 
old God. They nursed religion only as a convenient state 
or institution for their subjects. In France Francis I. was 
the chief supporter of the worship of the Syrens, round 
which he attempted to throw a nimbus by the arts of 
Italy. Catherine di Medici was too zealous in the ser- 
vice of Aphrodite, and Louis XIV. Jupiterised himself 
entirely. A vanity that could be satisfied, vanity and the 
apotheosis of sensuality became the philosophy of rulers. 
These ideas soon descended to the people, and were fed 
by their rulers and celebrated in their songs, and finally 
had their chief representative in Voltaire. France saved 
Italy partly by concentrating these ideas in herself; but 
she had to pay for this glory with her blood. The tombs 
of the Medici produce thoughts of a very cold and terrible 
kind. 

Keturned from the Pitti, I went to the wife of our 
Minister, Baroness Huegel, to whom I was presented by 
her amiable husband. The Baroness is an English lady, 
born in India, possessing an amiable and graceful coun- 
tenance, combining beauty with intelligence ; nor could 
our country be better represented than by her and her 
husband. 

A pleasant, agreeable dinner with Leopold brought us 
all together again in the Pitti, after which I drove with 
his eldest son to the Church of Santa Croce, the pantheon of 
Italian greatness. Eows of massive columns support the 
basilica-like entablature of the high roof, the light shed- 
ding a mild glory, comes through wonderful glass-paint- 
ings, veiling softly from the eyes of the faithful the garish 
world outside. A broad space, free from stools or seats of 




124 RECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

any kind, leads solemnly up to the high altar, and on its 
right and left are small oratories around the nave. The 
whole church has the form of a T 5 and like the cathedral, 
wants unfortunately a fapade. The Lombardo-Grothic would 
here be seen to perfection, were not the interior meanly 
disturbed by monuments along the church walls, of which 
many are modern, and great failures. Italy is not fortunate 
in her monuments to the dead, as is shown here more than 
anywhere else. Monuments in imitation of the antique 
are out of place in a church of the Middle Ages, and the 
naked body of Dante, half covered with a sheet would be 
well replaced by the body lying on the cover of the coffin, 
waiting patiently for the last trump. Could his marble 
lips open, it would be with an epigram on his own 
mausoleum. Three statues, representing respectively 
painting, sculpture, and architecture, mourn over Michael 
Angelo. There are many insignificant monuments put up 
by those who were rich enough to buy a place of honour 
in the Pantheon. Celebrated men join hands with the 
rabble to disfigure this beautiful work of bygone days by 
their paltry trophies. 

The Church of Santa Maria Novella, with the Dominican 
monastery attached to it, famed throughout the world for 
its pharmacy, is likewise built in the Lombardo-Grothic 
style, and Michael Angelo called it his bride. It has 
three naves with pointed vaults, and is filled with trea- 
sures of art. In the two cross naves chapels are raised, 
and in one of them is shown a celebrated picture of a 
Madonna, and in the other the Last Judgment. In 
this church I had an opportunity of admiring the glass- 
paintings so much loved by me. The crosswalk, used 
once as a burial-ground, is ornamented with frescoes of the 
oldest time, which are said to be painted with the juice of 
plants instead of with colours. My cousin called them, 
not without reason, potato frescoes, an expression which for 



A DOMINICAN MONASTERY. 



125 



its correctness made me laugh heartily, and which very 
much scandalised the learned man of art who led us 
about. Still more curious appeared to us in a chapel of 
the cross-walk the so-called 6 Capitolo degli Spagnuoli,' 
where amongst other frescoes are represented the fighting 
and the triumphant Church, with Pope and Emperor 
at its head, whilst dogs in the colours of the Dominicans 
(an allusion to the pun Domini cani) chase wolves, 
representing the heretics from which we may learn 
that our forefathers indulged in witty, if not in very fine, 
caricatures. The Dominicans of this day feel highly 
honoured and pleased by this fancy. In the same picture 
are pointed out the likenesses of Petrarch, Laura, and 
Boccacio, whether rightly must be decided by the 
learned. We followed our guide to the state rooms of 
the monastery, which are furnished luxuriously ; to the 
Speceria, and to a hall only recently finished, and which is 
designed for the reception of princely guests, where crystal 
chandeliers, golden candelabras, and velvet furniture, ex- 
isting to this day, witness to the wealth of this monastery. 
The good, cordial Dominicans treated me with Alkermes 
liqueur of their own manufacturing, with which I did 
not forget to toast the monastery. After we had bought 
from their apothecary department, which affords so much 
help to the poor, some of the celebrated essences and the 
Poudre d'Iris, we took a cordial leave of the friendly 
monks, and drove through rich gardens to Pietraja, a 
chateau of the Grand-Duke, which takes its name from 
its site on a stony hill. It was built by the Medici in the 
fine old Italian villa taste, and is wrapped in the fragrance 
of a charming garden. To the left of the broad staircase 
stands, amidst a flower-garden rich with orange-trees, a 
tasteful fountain, on the top of which is placed Giovanni 
di Bologna's celebrated Venus, cast in bronze. She is 
rising from the bath, jets of water issue from her rich 



126 RECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

hair, so that thousands of glittering diamonds play 
around Aphrodite. To the right the terrace is densely 
shaded by extremely broad green oaks, really colossal 
in the circumference of their tops, so that a cool green 
tent is spread over a wide space. These trees belong, 
without doubt, to the phenomena of nature ; for without 
being very high, they form by their number alone, 
and by the length of their branches, quite a little wood. 
Behind them stands a cedar of Lebanon, planted by the 
Grand-Duke in his youth, which has already reached a 
tolerable height. I saw here also camellias in the open 
air. 

Florence, August 30, 1851. 

The parade appointed for this morning could not take 
place on account of the rain; I availed myself of the 
time to see the rooms in 'the Pitti gallery which had 
been closed on the first three days. But something 
yet more splendid was in store for me to-day. One of 
the longest passages I ever saw, led me through a part of 
the city, over roofs, then over the Arno by the Ponte 
Vecchio, from the Pitti to the Uffizi. The interesting, 
but by no means handsome, portraits of the old rulers of 
Tuscany line, with other daubs representing historical 
scenes, this enormous irregular corridor, from which, in 
the middle of the Ponte Vecchio, you have an amusing 
doable view along the Arno, resembling a view from our 
Vienna river, and in which the Florentines comfortably 
fish by means of large nets from out of their very win- 
dows, which looks very odd. The Palazzo degli UfBzi is 
a state building in the old Italian style, forming a rect- 
angular building open towards the Piazza of the Palazzo 
Vecchio, supported on one side by the Loggia, and ending 
opposite the palace ; it rests on arcades ornamented with 
statues of celebrated Tuscans, among them Cosmo I., the 
builder of this stately, regular palace. A fine staircase 



THE ' GALLERIA DEGLI UFF1ZI.' 127 

ornamented with statues leads to the first story, where 
another corridor-like gallery runs round, from which one 
enters the rooms and cabinets lying along it. In these 
rooms the finest productions of art are united under the 
name of the ' Gralleria degli Uffizi.' 

In the first, the busts of the Medici interested me 
chiefly, those supporters of the finest and last period of art 
based on the old foundation. The family of the Medici 
particularly interest me, for they offer, with Venice, the 
only instance in history that men engaged in commerce 
can create and preserve great things, and have woven 
around their heads a lasting halo by their superiority in 
the department of the arts. They and Venice prove that 
merchants also may have a mind for something else 
besides Mammon, and that one may rise by Fortune 
without becoming a parvenu. The Medici rose as princes 
from the Exchange, and Etruria's handsome daughters 
soon wooed the sons of European kings. 

In the second room were representations of the animal 
world : a splendid horse, a boar, and two dogs, pleased 
me by the naivete and vigour of their representation and 
the noble spirit which is exhibited even in this branch of 
art. The first corridor exhibits a great number of busts of 
Roman Emperors and Empresses, in which the gallery of 
the Uffizi is particularly rich, and which showed me, to 
my shame, how much one need be versed in Roman im- 
perial history to know all the names and characters of these 
high personages ; to an archaeologist a rich field is here 
opened out for the study of historical faces. Amongst the 
statues in the second corridor, I found the celebrated 
Thorn-drawer, so frequently copied ; this ingenious statue, 
full of movement, and in which the marble almost be- 
comes flesh and blood, and the very joints bend naturally, 
delights one by its rare and artistic imitation of nature in 
a difficult position. 



128 KECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

At the end of the third corridor we find Baccio Bandi- 
nelli's copy of Laocoon, a grandly conceived, fanciful 
dream of antiquity ; my taste, however, leads me rather to 
leave this group to the anatomical examinations of a 
surgeon, and to return to the youthful, fresh wantonness of 
life, and to Michael Angelo's Bacchus, whose jovial, tipsy, 
voluptuous, broad face is thrown backward, and who 
languishes for the beloved juice from the raised cup, 
whilst a full bunch of grapes in one of his hands shows 
that he is ready to renew a pleasant enjoyment. In this 
youthful body of the Grod, and in the merry roguish 
little Faun at his feet, there is the fullness of antique 
life, and none of those too-much-developed muscles- 
which are such a feature in Michael Angelo's works dis- 
turb the delighted eye. One cannot but admire the 
creator of that longing face, in which there is a trace of 
the animal. An unfinished Apollo by the same artist was 
also very interesting, showing as it did the creative power 
of Michael Angelo like an uncut diamond; the completion 
of which, however, is foreshadowed ; and one seems 
hereby to see the working of the art, and the manner in 
which the sculptor confers immortal life upon the dead. 
We find several works of Michael Angelo in which the 
master has only chiselled out a firm sketch, and given 
birth to the idea without taking time and trouble for the 
complete execution of it. To this class belongs a relievo 
of the Holy Family preserved in a passage of the gallery. 
These half-unveiled ideas of Michael Angelo attracted me 
particularly, and I liked them better than many of his 
finished works in which there is something grotesque and 
too muscular. Near the Laocoon group is a John the 
Baptist, by Donatello, very graceful and noble ; and 
many Eoman busts of historical note, of which the most 
remarkable perhaps is Nero when a boy. The face of a 
monster when a child is a curious study, but this bust 



THE c GALLERIA DEGLI UFFIZI.' 129 

lacks the expression in the eye, which must be added to 
the other features in order that we may read in the face 
the prophecy of the future man. As I had so little 
time to spare, I did not stop in a room of Etruscan anti- 
quities, which branch, moreover, is better represented in 
the Museo Borbonico, although we are now in the heart 
of Etruria. However, in the cabinet of the new bronzes 
were many things worth seeing. The jewel amongst them 
is Giovanni Bologna's Mercury, which formerly orna- 
mented the Villa Medici in Eome, and from which, as from 
the Venus of this master, water is spouted from small 
openings. A little .^Eolus-head blows with full cheeks a 
column of air, on which rests a bold statue of Mercury on 
the point of his left foot, and the upward-striving light 
movement of the slender vigorous body removes every 
doubt that this divine youth will successfully cleave the 
air. 

We then entered the hall of Niobe, and stood as- 
tonished before the tragical group which the word of a 
god changed in a moment into marble, and preserved the 
expression of a soul trembling with pain, by petrefaction. 
Niobe and her children were too handsome, and too god- 
like, for their noble forms to crumble to dust and ashes ; 
they were, therefore, rendered immortal by art. Peter 
Leopold, Austria's Leopold II., possessed this group, which 
was found near the gate of St. Paul in Eome in 1583, 
brought from the Villa Medici to the gallery in Florence, 
where, in a large tasteless hall with light walls, it finds 
a place, than which no worse could be found; for the 
great and the beautiful deserve a corresponding habita- 
tion. That these statues, which in a passage in Pliny are 
ascribed to the master of Phidias and Praxiteles, stood in 
the front of a temple, is obvious from the different scale 
and the movement of the single figures. A mother 
with her youngest daughter, a youth running forward, a 

VOL. I. K 



130 RECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

daughter holding up with her left arm a cloak of many 
folds as a protection against the arrows of Diana, are, 
without doubt, worthy to be ranked amongst the most 

fc- O 

brilliant conceptions. Despair and agony, the sight of 
the blood of her sister, causes the youngest daughter to 
throw herself on her knees, and to lean against her mother 
as upon a column ; her dishevelled hair falls over her 
slender youthful figure, the arm is raised in fear whilst 
the mother presses her to her, only to suffer in the death 
of the youngest the extremity of pain. In all the figures 
one cannot but admire the life, the splendid form of the 
limbs, the exquisite softness and the masterly drapery. The 
noble blood of the brother and sister is spilt by the 
arrows ; Niobe and her children succumb with dignity to 
the vengeance of fate ; and a tragedy of a rare kind is here 
acted in marble. As even despair has sometimes its ludi- 
crous side, so the awkward tutor of the unhappy children 
made me smile by his alarm ; for though probably ex- 
celling in theory with his lance, he does not know how to 
defend with it the pupils confided to him ; certainly these 
are arrows of gods, arrows of fate, which may serve as 
some excuse for the poor ' Philister.' The upper parts of 
the walls are ornamented with pictures, amongst which is 
Henry IV. at the battle of Ivry, and his entrance into 
Paris by Eubens. Here Eubens gives wings to his fancy, 
throwing about the masses as no other artist can; but 
this genial artist gives us too much flesh, too much of the 
healthy corpus. This is further illustrated, though in 
this case appropriately, by his Bacchanal, which we met 
with in the hall of Barocchio, and finds some explanation 
in the excellent portraits of his two wives, Elizabeth 
Brand and Helena Forman, who, in their fullness and 
freshness give us a hint as to the models of Rubens. The 
portraits of this painter are, however, my delight ; they 
are more than portraits, for from them one may study 



THE 'GALLERIA DEGLI UFFIZI.' 131 

physiognomy itself. There is not only a fleshly resem- 
blance, but there is life and soul, and the whole power 
of the eye conjured up by a few touches on the canvas. 
One may comfortably and leisurely examine his portraits, 
and look straight in their faces ; in their company one 
feels quite sans gene, whilst one looks up to the creations 
of Vandyke with veneration as to something higher than 
ourselves. One may imagine the interest excited by the 
portrait of Galileo by Sustermann in the hall of Barocchio, 
in which science is immortalised by art; and the delight one 
feels in this head with white beard, and sombre features, 
that of a man who shook the earth from its lethargy, and 
conquered the pride of mankind, which deemed their 
world so important, that even the sun should adoringly 
revolve round it. And though centuries have past since 
that earnest mouth spoke out the great truth, a large part 
of mankind still live in the old error.* 

In the Egyptian cabinet are exhibited mummies and 
sundry trifles, proving that the greatness of Egypt consists 
chiefly in its colossal \vorks, in obelisks and temples, 
more in the whole than in the detail. We come now to the 
two saloons in which is a collection of portraits of painters, 
painted by the artists themselves. This collection, match- 
less in its kind, was commenced by Cardinal Leopold di 
Medici, and since then continued, but unfortunately not 
enriched by the modern artist who is not worthy to untie the 
shoe-strings of his predecessors. As each artist must paint 
his own portrait, these pictures show, at the same time, the 
artist and his work. Here I found my three favourite stars 
amongst the painters : Raphael, Kubens, and Vandyke. 
Enthusiastic, earnest, not vigorously manly, not womanly 
weak, a melancholy hybrid, living on this earth in a delicate 

I met once a young American, from Louisiana, returning home after 
haying finished his education in a Jesuit College at Vienna ; he firmly 
lieved that the sun turned round the earth, as he had been taught so by 
s Jesuit teachers. TRANSLATOR. 

K 2 



132 RECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

over-sensitive body, Raphael, half-cherub, half-genius, 
looks with deep melancholy eyes out of the picture which 
responds to his creations much better than the portrait in 
the gallery of Munich. He it is who has penetrated 
deeper than them all, who, in a loving rapture of love, has 
executed his divine conceptions, and whose excess of feel- 
ing has not deprived him of vigour and strength. Van- 
dyke is handsome and serious, like his splendid pictures ; 
he is the painter of princes of lofty greatness, an aristo- 
cratic artist, and as such he looks with genial dignity from 
the frame. 

Voluptuous, almost bold, with eyes that have already 
enjoyed much, and a nicely twirled moustache, thus 
Rubens represents himself to us. Raphael succumbed 
to the fever of his art ; Rubens thrived in merry enjoy- 
ment, and found strength in it for great works. 

In the middle of one of these rooms stands a trophy of 
antique art, the so-called Medicean vase, of the best 
Greek period, and made of the finest marble. Light 
grape-vine garlands surround a basso-relievo, representing 
in excellent figures the sacrifice of Iphigenia. This vase, 
in its detail, as in the whole, tasteful, large, and well- 
preserved, is after the old models, and said to have served 
at the banquets of the ancients for the mixing of water 
and wine, and to have been called ( Krater.' This shows 
again, with what a luxury of art, quite unknown to our 
time, the ancients, and especially the Greeks, surrounded 
themselves ; whilst amongst the Romans a too great 
luxury brought about a decay of art. What a joy to the 
eye in the merry repast, or at serious work, to be sur- 
rounded with such beautiful forms ! Two rooms contain 
the productions of the Venetian school. To become ac- 
quainted with, and to appreciate the vigorous rich drawing, 
the always fresh, well-tinted, deep-glowing colours of this 
school, one must examine with leisure the ' accademia delle 



THE ' GALLERIA DEGLI UFFIZI.' 133 

belle arte ' in Venice, one must have seen the palaces of 
Venice, the imposing magnificence of the sea-city, in 
which the earnestness of Europe is blended with Eastern 
richness of colour, in order to understand that its cele- 
brated painters knew how to unite soberness and bril- 
liancy. Florence is in possession of a jewel of a rare 
kind of the Venetian school, Titian's Flora a splendid 
woman, proud and captivating; the reddish-fair hair, 
in seducing rich waves, frames a calm, clear, perfect 
face ; a light white gown encircles the dazzling bosom, 
and in the beautiful left hand are the flowers which give 
this masterpiece its name of Flora, though she is rather 
an aristocrat brought up in gold and purple, a daughter 
of a Doge, than a sweet goddess of spring ; the flowers are 
only a plaything, not the business or care of the lady. 

The cabinet of gems, I might call it the jewel boudoir, is 
ornamented with columns of Oriental alabaster and verd 
antique, and its show-cases contain the most beautiful 
vessels, and fancy-things of lapis lazuli, achat, amethyst, 
and rock crystal, some of them cut by Benvenuto Cellini ; 
a real treasure-house of the most lovely and most precious 
objects. The French painters' school, with their affected 
trifles and artificial primness, I shall leave unnoticed. 
Grermany and the Netherlands are better represented in 
other places, although this division is ornamented by a 
landscape and storm by Euysdael and a Claude. But to all 
this we only give cursory looks, for we approach the 
temple of temples the Most Holy of Art; a pleasant 
quiver of excitement runs through us, for we see the en- 
trance to the f Tribune ; ' we have still to go through one 
room of the Italians, in which our impatience will only 
permit us to admire a striking head of Medusa by Cara- 
vaggio, and, with an expectation highly raised, we enter 
the centre of the world of art. 

The dark -red octagon room is vaulted over by a cupola 



134 RECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

richly ornamented with plates of mother-of-pearl ; three 
doors, one from the corridor, ornamented with statues, 
and two from the adjacent picture-rooms, lead to it; the 
most favourable light comes from above, through a circle 
of windows, and can, by means of curtains, be concen- 
trated on a single object. The floor is inlaid with marble 
slabs. In the architecture of the Tribune everything 

tt 

combines to produce a mysterious repose; a glorifying 
light beams from above, lighting upon the desired picture, 
and wrapping the rest in a favourable soft twilight. 

The Tribune offers a rare philosophical harmony ; the 
most different schools, the most different associations of 
ideas, the impulses of all times are here intimately allied 
in one whole by a power penetrating everything, and 
uniting all periods the power of art. I stepped over the 
threshold with a strange feeling. ' What will you find ? ' 
and at the same time I was seized with a peculiar embar- 
rassment before what may be termed the indecent in art, 
before the free naked, which I was afraid would not let me 
enjoy the spectacle calmly, and only allow me to steal fur- 
tive looks. There I stood before the Venus di Medici, and 
now only arose in me a genuine feeling for art an art- 
enthusiasm, in whose eyes indecency has no existence, 
which only sees the sublime and the glorious and my 
embarrassment at once disappeared. Aphrodite rose from 
the foam of the sea ; the golden waves under the sun of 
the South, and wafted by the zephyr, danced as they 
leapt upon the shell-covered shore. Like a bud be- 
dewed, a woman rose from the gently murmuring sea, too 
handsome to be born of flesh and blood a poetical idea. 
This wonder of fancy, as shown by a Greek inscription, 
was a marble dream of Cleomenes, the Athenian. The 
child of the waves, the goddess of loveliness stands before 
us in sweet unconscious shame, born perfect ; scarcely has 
the sun kissed the sea-mist from off the softly-swelling 



THE 'GALLERIA DEGLI UFFIZl.' 135 

limbs, not yet fettered by golden clasps. She is naked, 
yet the harmony of her beauty does not suggest naked- 
ness; she is too perfect to be subjected to the dissection 
of the eye. In this statue the marble ceases to be stone, 
the free delicate hands are imbued with feeling, in her 
youthful bosom slumbers the breath of spring, and coyly 
and sweetly the elastic limbs incline forward, the right 
foot gently raised, and Aphrodite steps from the wave to 
tread lightly upon the flowery ground. This jewel was 
found in Hadrian's Villa at Tivoli, but unfortunately in 
thirteen pieces, which, however, the hand of a master 
united in such a manner, that the eye is not in the least 
disturbed by the excellent joinings. 

About 1680, during the pontificate of Innocent XL 
and under the reign of Cosmo III., the Medicean Venus 
was purchased, together with the statue of Apollino, and 
brought to Florence. Under Napoleon the Venus sub- 
mitted to the sword, and followed a conqueror to Paris, a 
victim of that forced enthusiasm for art which was then 
enriching that great city. During that time she was- 
horribile dictu represented on her ancient throne in the 
Tribune by the Venus of Canova ; a ballet goddess risen 
from paper sea-foam, took the place of Aphrodite the 
daughter of the waves. But Napoleon fell, Venice again 
saw on the Piazza of St. Mark, her famous horses, and 
the Venus di Medici was restored to her old friends and 
to her old throne. 

The Slave whetting his knife is a vigorous muscular 
figure in a crouching position, which is very difficult to 
execute well, supporting himself on a strong, beautifully 
modelled hand, and leaning only on two fingers of the 
same. A slave useful to his master, built to do heavy, mean 
work, but without the least spark of any higher idea ; a most 
useful model for artists, a ' Famous Body,' much valued 
as such in the Academy. The group of the wrestlers is 



136 EECOLLECT10XS OF MY LIFE. 

full of life and truth, a faithful representation of antique 
strength and skill, boldly conceived, and executed with 
a lively fancy ; it transplants us into the midst of the 
times of the Olympian games, when the body was still 
healthy, and the physical still harmonised with the intel- 
lectual, and bodily strength was considered to belong to 
the requirements of manliness. One can imagine that 
these wrestlers are waging their battle amidst the applause 
of the people, who have come from great distances and 
many countries. The contest is getting exciting, and the 
issue in doubt, for both are giants in strength. Their eyes 
sparkle, their muscles swell, and behold now they fall to- 
gether on the sand of the arena ; a light cloud of dust 
for a moment conceals them from the spectators. Once 
again he who was thrown succeeds in rising, but the con- 
queror has seized him by his shoulder, has planted his 
sinewy knee in his side, rendered an arm powerless, and 
has secured his prize, the plaudits of the people. All 
Greece, young and old, are present ; in this consists the 
reward of the victor. This last movement of the more 
skilful wrestler, the firm conquering embrace of his de- 
feated antagonist,, this the crowning moment of the com- 
bat, has been chosen to hand down to posterity in marble. 
How the fancy of a genuine artist, excited by the sight 
of a mutilated statue, can be stimulated to attempt its 
restoration, is exemplified in the Dancing Faun, where 
limb has been joined to limb, and a head improvised for 
the headless statue. This work, found without head and 
arm, but with limbs of exquisite mould, ascribed to 
Praxiteles, so infused the old Greek spirit into Michael 
Angelo, that with his chisel he brought this statue to life 



again. 



The dancing Faun is animated, rude, joyous, full of 
wild humour, in a word, f a brave fellow,' full of animal 
enjoyment. Only the deep lines of Michael Angelo could 



THE ' GALLERIA DEGLI UFFIZI.' 137 

produce a corresponding half-tipsy, brutish, voluptuous 
head, in which is clearly seen an extravagant pleasure 
produced by the sound of the cymbals struck together by 
his sinewy arms, and by the scabellum, which pressed by 
the foot gives a squeaking sound. To me the Faun was 
an old acquaintance, for, several years ago, I had drawn it 
from a cast ; I was therefore much interested in seeing 
the original. In the same manner I had made ac- 
quaintance with the lovely, delicate foot of the Medicean 
Venus. 

The round of the statues is finished, and after admiring 
those most noble forms, after my delighted eyes have re- 
'cognised with what wonderful life art can endow stone, I 
shall occupy myself with the splendours of colour. I have 
already spoken of Eaphael, and of his gradual develop- 
ment; how he, first as a great pupil, and afterwards as a 
glorious master, revealed his artist soul. The Ascension 
in the Tribune exhibits these gradations in a remarkable 
manner, and one extremely valuable to the thinker ; pic- 
ture by picture brings us nearer to that comprehensive 
masterpiece, the Fornarina. He commences with a Floren- 
tine lady with golden rings on her fingers, a little cross on 
her neck, and long hair falling down over the shoulders, a 
good-natured picture full of innocence, drawn in firm lines 
which almost give the picture the character of a hard carv- 
ing. Had Raphael not gone beyond this step, he would 
scarcely have reached the entrance to the Tribune. In the 
Madonna del Cardellino, the figures are animated with a 
Raphael-like spirit ; the limbs are free, body and features 
acquire softness ; the charming Christ-child leans grace- 
fully on his blooming mother, lovingly turning his head 
towards his first friend the little John. Raphael is here 
awakening, but it is still an awakening upon earth, after a 
lovely, pleasing, but not grand dream. And the other 
group of the Madonna with the children, already shows 



138 RECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

in the deeper features, in the more intense colours, that the 
foreshado wings of a higher world are beginning to be dis- 
closed to the great master, though even here the move- 
ments are too quick, and too lively, and there is not 
as yet the celestial, all-compassing, triumphant repose. 
The boy John in the desert indicates this latter period ; 
in it is shown the triumph of colours, the philosophy of 
art, and yet, like the portrait of Pope Julius II., it did not 
make a deep impression on me ; the reason of this may be, 
perhaps, an unfortunate restoration, which gives to the 
picture a hard, too-much-varnished appearance, which 
also impairs the picture to which we next come, but it 
shows him on the high road to that goal kept in view by 
the great love of the master. 

Eoraptured by love, Kaphael's large melancholy eyes 
rest now on the great object of his love, now on the like- 
ness that he made of her. Love guided his heart and his 
hand, love gave the colours, love drew the features, a 
kiss of the soul gave the immortal spirit to the created, 
and the love of Raphael, the sad but glorious Fornarina, 
was preserved for posterity. In this picture Raphael 
advanced to perfection ; he attained it first by means of 
woman, and enters, through this womanly perfection, like 
Dante led by Beatrice, into Paradise. The Fornarina is 
one of those sad, enrapturing faces whose sweet calm 
conquers us ; brown, enthusiastic, glowing eyes ; almost 
sharply- cut, horizontal eyebrows ; a broad forehead, which 
is low, like all the antique heads ; a straight-lined, finely- 
shaped nose, with broad strong root, a proof of strong 
sterling character ; a lovely shaped mouth with softly 
swelling underlip, animated by a sad smile ; a shining, 
transparent complexion imbued with the glow of Rome's 
animating sun ; full chestnut-brown hair, ornamented with 
a light golden wreath of leaves ; the heaving bosom re- 
tained by the blue velvet bodice, delicately covered with 



THE ' GALLERIA DEGLI UFFIZI.' 139 

hazy linen ; the fine, and yet vigorous hand, the dazzling 
arm playing with the soft tiger-skin hanging over the 
shoulder ; all this painted in deep powerful colours, over- 
flowing with tropical glow by the creative mind of 
Eaphael, gives us one of the most perfect pictures ; and if 
the Medicean Venus is the diamond in the Tribune crown, 
the Fornarina is the ruby which shall shine eternally. 

Of my friend, Vandyke, we find two pictures : Grio- 
vanni di Montfort, dressed in black, one of those noble 
physiognomies full of life and truth, a piece of history ; 
and Charles V., on a high Spanish horse in full armour, 
overshadowed by an eagle holding a laurel-crown. He 
who would understand the great emperor, on whose 
possessions the sun never set, who thundered over the 
ocean the f plus ultra,' and who had carved on his build- 
ings by the side of the columns of Hercules, Jove's 
lightnings as his symbol, must step before this picture, 
and he will be seized with respect and enthusiasm for 
this king of men. The 'by the grace of Grod,' shines 
powerfully from the commanding, earnest face of the 
emperor, too great to feel flattered that humanity lies in 
the dust before him ; his large hand leans on the 
marshal's staff, on a high powerful white horse, which 
seems conscious of its noble burden ; the finest pedestal 
for a warrior-sovereign. The eagle, chosen as the symbol 
of the House of Hapsburg, floats over Charles to crown 
his majestic head with laurel. Vandyke, as I said above, 
has painted history by perpetuating with his brush the 
immortal spirits of great men. This he showed in the most 
perfect manner in this picture of a man who, of all others, 
was the most difficult to understand in his time. Difficult 
it must be to paint him who feels himself the first in the 
world, who recognises none above him but his Creator ; 
who dares with unyielding pride to besiege the Pope in 
his castle of St. Angelo, who counts the King of France 



140 RECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

amongst his prisoners, and who, at the same time, under- 
stands the secret that it is not good to wait for twilight, 
but who leaves his throne in broad sunshine, to die the 
death of mortals. 

The vigorous Eubens also pays his tribute to the 
Tribune, and presents us with his Hercules between Virtue 
and Vice ; strong, stout figures, healthy and fresh as every- 
thing the jolly Fleming creates ; unfortunately the picture 
hangs too high ; and Eubens has painted many finer 
things, that would more worthily represent him in this 
select collection. So, also, with Titian, whose two recum- 
bent Venuses, though handsome women, lack the sub- 
lime pure spirit of the Groddess. One cannot but admire 
the voluptuous body ; but these two pictures are rather 
unsurpassed and unsurpassable models of the female body, 
than the embodiment of any sublime idea. One of these 
pictures is said to be the portrait of a mistress of Titian ; 
this explains the by no means ideal head. It is a pity for 
the worthy representation of the greatness of Titian that 
his s Tributary Penny ' from the gallery in Dresden, the 
chief of his works, has not a place here. It shows us 
Christ, as none have yet succeeded in doing, combining Grod 
and man in one being, with that seriousness, and beyond 
all other conceptions of Christ, with that noble expres- 
sion, with that mild penetrating look, which analyses the 
bad and detects the good, speaking the words : * Eonder 
unto Grod the things which belong to God, and unto 
Ca3sar the things which belong to Cffisar,' and so con- 
founding the cunning Pharisees. Titian has in this pic- 
ture, by two figures, painted a contrast which I have never 
since seen. To the right stands the representative of the 
purest principles living on earth, the high commanding 
form of the Eedeemer, with bodily weak, but spiritually 
strong features ; to the left, the brownish-red, rude, cun- 
ning Pharisee, the lowest Jewish type. By means of a 



THE ' GALLERIA DEGLI UFFIZI.' 141 

gold coin, the artful Pharisees set a trap, the hands of the 
two principal figures approach ; the bony, broad, dark fist 
of the bad one holds the glittering coin, and the white 
finely-veined right hand of the Kedeemer, made only to 
break the bread and to heal by miraculous power, is point- 
ing to it. He who understands, and has enjoyed the 
deep philosophy and truth of this picture, will ever regret 
that the creator of this masterpiece is represented in the 
Tribune by two naked women. 

Correggio is not my friend, he is of excessive sweetness, 
his Madonnas and angels smirk too much, the messengers 
of heaven dangle and fly about with contorted limbs. He 
paints too much the idyll, and so loses strength and ex- 
pression ; behind his porcelain colours one misses the firm 
drawing, it is rose-coloured angels' flesh without bones. 
These kind of painters, to which class Carlo Dolce belongs, 
have a disagreeable, unnatural impression ; but honour to 
whom honour is due ; these artists, also, and perhaps more 
than any other, have fortunate moments. Thus we see 
here with astonishment and admiration Correggio's head 
of John, just cut off, lying on a plate. Is that the same 
master, almost mannerist, of 'the Night?' One can 
scarcely recognise him in the cold, dead-look of John ; in 
that head, which to look at, produces a shudder, with its 
pale cheeks, its blue lips, which, because of the truth, they 
spoke, were silenced for ever ; in those sublime features, 
to which death has given eternal rest and silent victory. 
Here is no idyll, no holy shepherds' scene, here is a great 
tragedy, a martyrdom represented in a single dead face. 
As Correggio gives us, in this little picture, so full of 
meaning, the close of the tragedy, so Bernardino Luini 
paints the chief actor in it ; the daughter of Herodias, 
the originator of that deed, which Correggio represents by 
the dead head. The shameless, cold, and yet attractive 
girl, brutally laughing, a used-up plaything of the pas- 



142 RECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

sions, receives the bloody head of the Baptist to show it 
to the uncle. The art of Bernardo Luini had not wan- 
dered outside the walls of Milan, but Florence acquired 
his daughter of Herodias by an exchange, and placed it in 
its cosmopolitan temple of art. Andrea del Sarto is also 
worthily represented in the Tribune : his Madonna with 
St. Francis and John the Evangelist is an altar-piece of 
rare beauty, of southern fancy and vigorous faith. I 
learned to appreciate still higher this master, formerly 
unknown to me, the Florentine, par excellence. A won- 
derfully hearty picture, full of feeling and colour, is Paul 
Veronese's Madonna and Child, whose foot is kissed by 
the little John ; on the works of this master a soft sober 
tint rests like a veil ; there is no brightness, but yet a 
tenderness like a longing eye veiled by long lashes. 

Annibale Caracci's Bacchante, which is a picture full of 
life, exhibits a beautifully rounded, soft, back, and a sen- 
sual joyous profile. Michael Angelo's Holy Family is 
grotesque and hard, without grace and without love, as if 
carved and not painted. A few naked figures in the 
background of this cold, stony picture, indicate the time 
before Christ. Worthy of his master, his pupil Daniele 
Volterra represents a Murder of the Innocents, a picture 
rich in sturdy limbs and brave movement, and full of a 
sort of acrobatic effect. In this picture the master is said 
to have assisted his pupil to a great extent. As Volterra 
is an exaggerated Michael Angel o, so Parmegianino is an 
imitator of Correggio ; Parmegianino is represented here 
by a Holy Family, an elaborate picture, of sickly sweetness 
with golden locks, and rich enamel colours, highly var- 
nished. It is difficult to understand how such a picture 
could find a place in this exquisite collection. Equally 
incomprehensible to me is the reputation enjoyed by a 
Madonna of Gruido : it appears to me a most tedious, ex- 
pressionless picture. Our Durer, and the fresh, fair Lucas 



THE ' GALLEKIA DEGLI UFFIZI.' 143 

Cranach, have not been forgotten, and a worthy place has 
been assigned to the art of the old Grerman Empire. In 
looking at the works of these patriarchs, I always feel 
respect, which, however, does not enable me to repress an 
involuntary smile, as at the appearance of an old man 
that has become too old. 

When it happens that a man well placed in society has 
the courage to assemble in the noble rooms of his palace 
a company from every rank of society, differing in age, in 
religion, and in worldly circumstances, regarding only the 
bond of intellect and good-fellowship, his assembly will, 
notwithstanding the great differences alluded to, and in 
defiance of etiquette, be an excellent intermixture, most 
piquant on account of that imperceptible intellectual fer- 
mentation that is going on. There will be discussions 
that will' not degenerate into disputes ; they will sharpen 
each other's wits without heating each other's tempers. 
There will be no cold formalism in such a society, nor 
will time hang on their hands. This is the sort of as- 
sembly which is gathered in the Tribune. Here genius 
has collected, and tact has harmonised, Madonnas, Adam 
and Eve, Aphrodites, Apollos, Bacchantes, Christs, and 
tipsy Fauns. The same genius has discerned the possi- 
bility of bringing together the age of Praxiteles and of 
Eaphael. This genius belonged to the Medici, and to 
them I owe some of the happiest hours of my life. To 
see the Tribune is alone worth a journey to Florence, and 
how I regretted that I had but five days to stay in this 
city ! A room adjacent to the Tribune contained the pic- 
tures of the Florentine school, and, without wishing to 
depreciate its contents, I felt a repellent sensation at pass- 
ing to the ordinary, after coming from the supernatural. 

Before the Grand-Ducal dinner I visited the cabinet in 
connexion with the Pitti. The animal organs, almost too 
naturally imitated in wax, and intended to teach the 



144 RECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

pupils anatomy, compelled me to a hasty retreat, as I 
should have been very sorry to spoil my excellent appe- 
tite. But I was very well pleased with the somewhat 
theatrical hall, in which the tools, as well as a ringer of 
Galileo, are preserved for posterity. A rich flooring in 
marble, and a cupola ornamented with fresco-pictures, form 
a good ensemble^ the busts of the late and present Grand 
Duke exhibit the founders of this mausoleum. In the 
afternoon I visited the Church of St. Spirito, which, built 
in the shape of a Latin cross, forms a basilica with a 
cupola in the middle ; the arches of the supporting walls 
of the middle nave rest on Corinthian columns. This 
church is by no means one of the finest in Florence, and 
is unfortunately disfigured by the new Roman taste. 

After having visited with my cousin one of those 
celebrated shops for marble and alabaster, objects of 
art in which Pisa and Florence are so rich, we drove 
late in the evening, pour I' acquit de ma conscience, to 
Montui, a little villa which the Grand -Duke bought from 

J O 

a Bonaparte a few years ago. To me these Trianons of 
princes are not without significance, for in them one dis- 
covers the character of the proprietor. As far as twilight 
and rain permitted me to distinguish, Montui is situated 
on a hill rising softly towards a mountain, in a nice little 
flower-garden, enclosed by friendly orange-trees, and from 
its position it must offer to the eye a fine and peaceful view. 
The interior of the house is simple, nay common, but com- 
fortable and clean, an unpretending, private house, full of 
little souvenirs, which artlessly reveal a happy family life ; 
but all these details we examined by the light of candles 
that we had to carry in our own hands ; I find also on a 
page in iny note-book that I wrote against the explanations 
of my merry cousin, f Montui coi lumi. 9 

We drove home to enjoy with our amiable minister an 
agreeable evening. My carriage stopped before the little 



THE 'GALLERIA DEGLI UFFIZI.' 145 

house on the bank of the Arno ; a brightly lighted glass 
corridor led me, amidst the strains of our popular hymn, 
to the neat staircase, arranged in English fashion, at the 
upper end of which the amiable lady of the house met me 
charmingly and gracefully, and conducted me to a tasteful 
saloon. A select circle of Florentines and our Austrian 
garrison were assembled there ; graceful toilets, without 
glaring colours or ridiculous finery, testified to the fact 
that foreigners have had a favourable influence on Italian 
habits; but Italy faded before the brilliant appearance, 
blooming beauty, and fairy charm of the Northern lady, 
who was dressed in rich moire antique with tastefully dis- 
tributed jewels. As the daughter of an English general, 
born in India, the lovely lady of the house unites in her- 
self English dignitv and education, with childlike frank- 

o o < * 

ness. A dance was commenced, for which one of our 
military bands played. A pleasant little supper enjoyed 
by the side of our amiable hostess enhanced the charm of 
the evening, and this little festive meeting proved to me 
that Baron Hugel in his new and honourable position had 
not lost his talent for arranging everything in the most 
excellent manner. 

It was most interesting to me to see in a room of the 
Galleria degli Uffizi sketches of the greatest masters, where 
from a few distinct lines we recognise the spirit of a 
Perugino and a Leonardo, and where we are taken, as it 
were, into the studios of the masters of art and obtain an 
insight into the first conception of their works. How 
easy and precisely everything is sketched there ! what 
graceful studies are to be seen there which were the foun- 

o 

dation of masterpieces ! how perfectly Raphael throws 
his figures upon the paper ; how vivid is the creative power 
of a Leonardo ! One gets to know the greatest mas- 
ters, and feels happy in finding them great also in little 
things. No colours flatter the eye and dazzle it, no light 
VOL. i. L 



146 RECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

effect brings the work out ; here it is the form only which 
is given by red pencil or by pen. I hurried once more to 
the dear Tribune, which I left with regret, and then through 
various corridors and rooms in the Palazzo Vecchio, the 
old residence of the Senate of the Florentine Eepublic, 
and later of the first Medici. The palace is a towerlike 
castle in the picturesque forms of the middle age, built 
of freestone, darkened by time, and ornamented by a 
crown of battlements resting on buttresses. Escutcheons 
in the freshest colours shine under them : a high grey 
tower rises at the side with a stone garland, which com- 
pletes a romantic picture of a time-honoured stronghold, 
something between a German town-hall and a Zwing-Uri, 
and which answers to the old Florentine history, which 
united the peaceful arts with war and commerce. 

There is a large hall in the palace ornamented with 
frescoes and statues, reminding one of the splendid rooms 
of the Ducal Palace in Venice. One of the frescoes repre- 
sents Boniface VIII. solemnly receiving twelve ministers 
of very different sovereigns, from the King of Bohemia 
to the Khan of Tartary, all of them born Florentines, 
which fact proved the intellectual superiority and the 
culture of Florence. The statue of Leo X. is majestically 
placed in a centre niche on a throne, raising his right 
hand in blessing, and at the same time spiritually threat- 
ening. In the square of the building stands a strange 
fountain with a boy strangling a fish, cleverly cast in 
bronze. Stepping out of the gate on the fine Piazza, you 
see, as a sort of giant guarding the building, a Hercules 
killing Cacus, by Baccio Bandinelli, and the shepherd 
boy, David, by Michel-Angelo. 

On the left of the palace is a large and beautiful foun- 
tain of Neptune by Donatello, and at its side a bronze 
equestrian statue of Cosmo I. To the right one enjoys 
the view in the fine atmosphere of the Arcades of the 






THE LOGGIA DEI LANZI. 147 

Uffizi, on which lightly and poetically lean the Loggia del 
Lanzi, built in the Lombardo-Gothic style, covering with 
its wonderful and lofty arches the most exquisite works of 
art. Originally it was a kind of exchange, later a chief 
guard-house of the Grand-Ducal lancers, hence its name. 
At first it was simply ornamented with single monu- 
ments of art, only to become at last a kind of museum, 
in which was brought together, hap-hazard, what has since 
become a glittering jewel in the art-crown of Florence. 
The building is light, firm, and original, leaning on either 
side against the walls of the neighbouring buildings, 
thereby giving the impression of something accidental, 
and yet quite unpretending. The imitation of this lucky 
accident of art arising out of the locality, is not always 
fortunate, as proved without doubt by the f Feldherren- 
halle ' in Munich, which is an unfavourable copy of the 
Loggia dei Lanzi. What is historical in Florence is un- 
natural in Munich. Tilly and Wrede cut very sad figures 
whilst in Florence. This beautiful building is fitted with 
colossal works of art. 

But now to the chief works of the Loggia. Giovanni 
Bologna furnishes two wonderful groups in marble, the 
Rape of the Sabines, and the Contest of Hercules with the 
Centaur, two different sorts of combat, each represented 
in an equally masterly manner. In the first group a 
vigorous youth encircles victoriously the powerless strug- 
gling virgin, and holds her firmly embraced upwards in 
the air over the figure of the old father ; in the other 
the god of strength overpowers his mighty antagonist as 
a fighting and yet a successful conqueror. In these works 
Giovanni Bologna worthily approaches the antique, which 
is represented by a fine expressive group in the middle of 
the Loggia, Ajax carrying the body of Patroclus. Early 
art has stamped its works with a decided character, and 
one which is at once intelligible, and so it is in the 



*&> j 

L2 



148 KECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

case here. Benvenuto Cellini's Perseus with the Head of 
the Medusa, the model of which we have seen in the 
Uffizi, is on a large scale, with features, however, too 
finely chiselled, showing that the master was a goldsmith, 
and his eye used to the minute work of that most precious 
metal. The pedestal of Perseus, ornamented with basso- 
rilievos and statues, is extremely tasteful, but also in a 
somewhat too elaborate style. We find as a companion 
to Perseus, a Judith by Donatello, also cast in bronze, at 
the moment when she strikes off the head of Holofernes, 
a kind of votive offering erected by the city ad exemplum, 
as we are told by an inscription, an embodiment of 
heroic patriotism. Let us hope that the pretty women of 
Florence will not deal in the same manner with the Aus- 
trian commanders. 

We now drove to the Baptistery, which, as at Pisa, is be- 
fore the cathedral, and whose outside walls, as at Pisa also, 
are coated with different coloured marble slabs. Its chief 
ornament is the beautiful worked bronze doors, represent- 
ing, amidst the richest and most tasteful ornaments, scenes 
from the Bible. Michel-Angelo said these gates were 
worthy to be the gates of Paradise. Some assert that this 
Baptistery was once a Koman temple ; at any rate, it is 
of great antiquity. After paying one more visit to the 
cathedral, we ascended a hill commanding the left bank of 
the Arno, and through villas and gardens to the Poggio 
Imperiale. 

Long, fine cypress-avenues lead to the villa, ornamented 
with statues and busts, and which is now used by our 
troops as a barrack. In the building itself there is 
nothing extraordinary, but splendid, indeed, is the view 
before it, gilded too, as it was, by the finest day. Calm, 
mild and dignified lay the city in serious beauty at our 
feet, threaded by the silver Arno, embraced and petted 
by its green, smiling valley, filled with the fragrance of 



A CARTHUSIAN MONASTERY. 149 

hundreds of the most charming gardens, happy to per- 
fection, situated as it is at the feet of the heights of 
Petraja, Montui and Fiesole, and infinitely glorified by 
the pure Italian sky. Amongst the many interesting spots 
lying before my eyes, I was shown at some distance a 
cloister situated on a hill the Certosa. I am no friend 
of novels, but all the more do I like romance, and what 
romantic ideas are not conjured up by a Carthusian 
retreat ! As I had not seen one, I induced my cousin to 
visit it notwithstanding the distance. We drove to the foot 
of the hill, which we ascended, passing through the vine- 
yards of the cloister, in the greatest heat of noon. The 
gate protected by loopholed walls opened, a white little 
monk appeared, but only to disappear immediately, and 
we entered the lifeless halls undisturbed. Everything was 
still and dead ; no step but ours echoed through the old 
halls. We advanced slowly, and entered a church richly 
ornamented with marble, extremely clean and fresh, with- 
out worshippers, as if built for spirits ; many chapels and 
altars surrounded the church, so that all the monks might 
be able to read the holy mass at the same time, without 
seeing each other; but no bell was heard, nowhere was 
the Word of Grod heard ; all seemed to have died out, and 
in the middle of the day, it seemed as if there floated 
over the cloister a sun-lit night. An uneasy feeling came 
over me, and I confess I was glad not to be alone, for 
every moment I expected the apparition of a long ghostly 
procession of white monks, and ghosts in the clear noon 
air, by Heaven ! still more awful than in the night, which 
seems created for them. Keys rattled, but instead of the 
grey vision, a little white monk approached with a grey 
beard and a friendly face, and we had, to my satisfaction, 
a living guide amongst the dead, still halls. 

The obliging monk led us up a long crosswalk, and 
we stopped before a locked door, the entrance to the cell 



150 RECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

of the master of novices. No sound disturbed the still- 
ness; the door-keeper entered the door and returned with 
the news that the monk had slept, and that we could 
enter. Each Carthusian has his little house built in the 
crosswalk, a little garden with a well, an ante-chamber, a 
bedroom containing his couch, a poor table and some 
holy pictures on the walls. A hall covered with grape 
vine, forms his dwelling, his empire, his world ; his meals 
he gets through a wicket at the entrance. On certain 
days the monks assemble in the refectory, and are only 
permitted to speak at certain hours ; to walk in the com- 
mon garden is a holiday enjoyment. What a strong soul 
must one have, not to be unsouled here, and find words for 
a conversation ! Every night a lay-brother knocks at the 
doors as a signal to assemble for prayers ; if a monk be 
wanting, then he is either dead or detained in his couch 
by illness. 

We entered the picturesque hall, from which is a splendid 
view of the rich valley of the Arno. A little below us 
was the clean little garden with fresh flowers, a few 
orange trees and a clear little basin, in which gold fishes 
were quietly swimming, the only living companions of the 
lonely monks, a picture of mute, sad melancholy. A tall, 
serious young man, picturesquely dressed in white, entered 
the hall from his room, astonished at the sight of visitors, 
and avoiding speech with them in every possible way; 
his lips seemed to be closed by the law. It was the 
master of novices. What could have induced him to 
choose the solitude of death ? Will he not at times 
lean on a stone support of his altar, and look down 
upon the sunny, laughing, joyous valley, where all is full 
of hope and happiness, where the children of earth play- 
fully hasten over blooming fields as free as the birds of 
the air ; or when, on the evening of St. John, the cupola of 
the cathedral is glorified with hundreds of lights, and the 



A CAKTHUSIAN MONASTERY. 151 

bridges of the Arno are reflected in its silver waves, and 

O ' 

the merry songs of the moving crowds are heard in the 
cloister, will he not at these times be seized with un- 
fathomable woe, by an irresistible longing for a moment 
of pleasure and joy, for one hour of terrestrial delight? 
Will his deep eye not be filled with a tear for the past ? 
But his woes have raised the world of separation, and 
a dead compassionate smile at the fooleries of the 
world, for which in his heart at times he secretly longs, 
alone remains to him. Pitiable, very pitiable man ! you 
are proud of your life which is pure, because temptation 
is removed ; you have consecrated your heart to death, 
and death alone will give it its icy rest. We left the 
cell, and the novice-master remained ; how I should have 
liked to bring him back to nature, to life ! but he is dead 
to the world, the Carthusian monastery is his tomb, and 
who knows whether it will not, at last, bring to him, as 
to many others, rest and peace ; blessedness on earth, in 
which this solitude in his homely cell is a still, serene 
paradise, of which heaven is only as it were a continuation, 
to which death is the welcome door-keeper ? Our arrival 
and rank were made known by the little monk, and sud- 
denly life arose. From all sides appeared white figures 
with their flowing garments and pointed hoods ; and we 
found ourselves in a circle of friendly, nay almost child- 
like men, disposed almost for fun, to whom the appearance 
of beings from the world was very pleasant. 

We were conducted by them to the simple rooms in 
which Pius VI. and Pius VII. found a short refuge 
against the storms of the world. There are some pictures 
here which commemorate these events. To this cloister, 
Charles V. retired, April 29, 1536. In the dispensary 
they gave us a liqueur, which is a hospitable custom ; it 
is made by themselves. Our arrival relaxed their laws 
for a season, and the poor monks seemed very glad to be 



152 RECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

permitted to accompany us this fine day down the hill to 
our carriage. 

In the afternoon, the friendly Grand-Duke and his sons 
took us to the romantic height of Fiesole, an old Etrurian 
town, a mean-looking mother of beautiful Florence, and to 
whom the daughter granted alone the odd right to give 
diplomas of nobility for money, for which reason the 
noblemen of Fiesole were called Nobili della Strada. The 
view from the height was beautiful beyond description. 

We visited the cathedral only, where at the afternoon 
service the prettiest girls were assembled, with dark veils 
and the indispensable fan, a lovely foretaste of Andalusia, 
which we were soon to visit. 

September 1, 1851. 

This fine day the Austrian troops entered the beautiful 
Cascine, where I had the pleasure of seeing them, and 
admiring their splendid bearing and excellent appearance. 
Here, for the first time since the Revolution, I again saw 
the first company of hussars those splendid, match- 
less, beautiful hussars that Austria only can show, because 
Austria alone possesses Hungary; those iron horsemen, 
full of fire and endurance. This view was very pleasant 
to me, and my Austrian heart swelled at the sight of the 
familiar ranks, and under the strains of the great hymns 
of peace and war. I paid my last visit to-day to the 
Tribune, from which I parted with regret ; may it be rny 
fate to see it at some future time, and to appreciate and 
enjoy it at leisure. Passing by the fine Piazza del Grrand- 
duca and the main street leading from it, we came to the 
small place of St. Michael's Church ; a dark warehouse- 
like building in Italian-Gothic style, with a fine bronze 
statue representing St. Matthew. There was a sort of 
fair taking place at this spot, and a bustling, lively crowd 
was moving to and fro and into the little church. To 
the honour of the Florentines it must be said there was 



DEPARTURE FROM FLORENCE. 153 

not that deafening, confused, Punch-like hubbub of the 
Via Toledo, but the whole had a more agreeable appear- 
ance, I might almost say it was a piece of South German 
street-life. Naples is rude and noisy, whilst in Florence 
the male sex are more phlegmatic and the women more 
polite ; could one over-awe the people by good manners it 
might be pleasant to live amongst them, which would be 
less the case in the city of Parthenope, where, from the 
highest to the lowest, all are coarse and noisy, and only 
nature, which is there splendid beyond all things, can 
compensate for these defects. Even the type of the fea- 
tures may be called handsome in Florence, especially 
amongst the fair sex, whilst in Naples the women are ugly 
and mean. We entered the church San -Michel e in Orto, 
which has beautiful windows, and a tabernacle-like little 
chapel with fine ornaments in stone, which latter might 
be very well called pietra dura. The church owes its 
square form to its former destination, for it was a corn- 
warehouse, which, in honour of an image of the Madonna, 
was transformed into a church in 1337. Passing the 
Palazzo Bicardo, celebrated for its grand architecture, we 
came to the Grand-Ducal stables to change our horses 
there for a drive to the far Pratolino. I availed myself of 
the time to try in the yard a splendid little Arabian be- 
longing to my cousin, an exercise doubly agreeable and 
pleasant after a sea-voyage. Pratolino, which is an estate 
of the Grand-Duke, is situated to the right behind Fiesole, 
in a somewhat bare, mountainous country ; a large and 
by no means fine English garden without any freshness, 
with an insignificant house. 

Tired and low-spirited, I returned to the Pitti to take 
the last dinner in Florence, and as the railway brought 
me to, so it carried me away from, the company of my dear 
relations and this much-endeared city, this mild valley of 
peace. I felt quite sad, for, for a long time, I had not passed 



154 RECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

so many pleasant hours full of the highest and noblest 
enjoyment, devoted to nature and art. Here I was intro- 
duced to the home of art : I had opened to me the pro- 
ductions of the most noble minds ; I saw their progress, 
their beginning, and their culmination. 

My parting with Florence filled me with sadness. I 
was parting from a high-souled, beautiful, intellectual 
woman. Whilst Naples appeared to me only as a sensual 
beauty, a voluptuously charming woman offering herself 
for momentary enjoyment, and had only to be wooed to 
enjoy on her bosom joyous hours; Florence has to be 
understood in order to worship her, and it is at her feet 
that one comprehends the present by the past. I looked 
many times from the window, but the city with its cupolas 
disappeared only too soon. 

The separation from my dear relatives in Pisa was hard. 
They had made my sojourn so agreeable to me, and I 
owed them so many thanks for all their friendliness and 
brotherly love during my short stay amongst them. How 
would I have liked to follow them to Marlia ! But to the 
frigate, the times and seasons are appointed, and we follow 
the law. We arrived in the midst of darkness at Leghorn, 
went on board the ' Novara,' which weighed anchor on 
Sept. 2, 1851. 

' To Spain ! ' What a beautiful idea, sounding like 
golden melody to the delighted heart ! And yet how 
strangely constituted is the mind of man ! I felt rather 
sad and homesick, and the pleasure of travel was overcast 
for a time ; body and mind were out of tune, but Spain 
was to be my cure, and heal me with its beautiful balm. 



II. 



ANDALUSIA AND GRANADA 



1851 



ANDALUSIA AND GRANADA. 

THE voyage from Leghorn to Spain lasted from the 1st 
to the 12th of September. At its commencement we were 
detained by contrary winds, but after we left Cape Palos 
we sailed with fabulous speed, so as once to make twelve 
knots an hour. 

After we had lost sight of Elba we still continued to see 
for some time the sea-surrounded cradle of Napoleon with 
its rough hills, its distant capital, Bastia, glittering from 
afar, and at a still greater distance, the mountainous scenery 
of that land which formed the stage of that too active 
man; France appeared only for a moment, however. 

The next sight worth attention was the majestic head 
of Gibraltar rising from the waves ; one of the mighty 
columns of Hercules on which that physically strong but 
intellectually weaker god engraved the premature ' ne 
plus ultra.'' A solitary rock ascending towards heaven, the 
most imposing sentinel in the world between two much 
frequented seas. It did not seem like a creation of nature, 
but rather a monument which a god and that, too, 
the god of strength, had erected : now a colossus rising 
from the sea, again as a beast of prey basking in the 
tropical sunshine, then as a pointed pyramid touching the 
clouds, slender and yet defying the storms of thousands of 
years; always changing, and yet a picture of rest and 
power. Round the foot of the grey mysterious rock runs 
the most frequented road of the whole earth, the silver 
band on which the Phoenicians with their small light 



158 RECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

barks ventured on the unknown roaring ocean, and on 
which now, after thousands of years, the sons of Albion cut 
the waves, with their steamers swift as arrows, as if it were 
mere pla} T , or a promenade, and the Mediterranean a 
pleasant lake. 

Opposite the Straits I could discern a new continent, 
the third in the course of one year, the glowing hot Africa, 
with its Ceuta, the by no means imposing twin-brother 
of Gibraltar. It is pleasant to note in one's journal 
another continent, though only seen from the sea ; and I 
saw also that we must see for ourselves to rectify our ideas ; 
for two of my fanciful pictures underwent a change when 
1 saw them with the bodily eye : the coast of Africa and 
the Straits of Gibraltar. My fancy had clad the former in 
the yellow monotony of the sandy desert, with mountains 
and blue, lively tints ; the latter I had imagined so wide 
that the coasts of Africa could only be seen in clear weather ; 
and now, notwithstanding the not very clear day, I saw the 
lines of both coasts distinctly. 

The favourable wind carried us through the Straits, and 
the mighty foaming ocean lay before us. Whether it was 
imagination or reality I don't know, but it appeared to me 
that the waves were higher and more boisterous, and their 
colour clearer. To my delighted eye there was no longer 
a lake, but a boundless ocean reaching to the new world ; 
and I en oyed the sailor's happiness at having passed the 
columns of Hercules. We sailed fast along the Spanish 
coast, Tarifa appeared ; we passed through Nelson's bloody 
field of honour, the waters of Trafalgar, from which 
Britannia, refreshed by French and Spanish blood, rose 
terribly, the sovereign-queen of the sea. At last, on a 
wonderful afternoon, arose a brilliant white city with its 
towers and turrets like a fata morgana on the green misty 
sea, a second Venice, a ghostly dream of the old city of 
the Doges. Cadiz unfolded before our looks, whitewashed 



CADIZ. 159 

and clean, and built with all neatness ; standing out from 
the sea on a neck of land, it first appears imposing to the 
stranger, then it has a friendly and inviting air without 
losing in the least its dignity. 

Several gunshots at last brought the pilot on deck, over 
an agitated sea. Next day, thanks to our careful captain, 
we successfully made the rather difficult entrance, and 
cast anchor in Spanish ground at about 3 o'clock p.m., on 
the 12th of September. The port was crowded with 
merchantmen, behind which we saw men-of-war. Boats 
were coming to and fro, and there was plenty of life 
moving in the roadstead. 

We landed at the Puerta del Mar, surrounded by black- 
eyed, brown men with slim figures, and marked, noble fea- 
tures, with a small plate-like velvet hat on their black, curly 
heads, and embroidered leather gaiters buttoned round their 
supple legs. Passing some martial looking but not well- 
dressed guards, we entered within the city walls and found 
ourselves in Spain's old commercial city, into which once 
flowed the poisonous gold of America. The gold is gone, 
and with it the old greatness, and though the city has 
now the stamp of wealth it does not possess even a single 
monument of olden times. Long narrow streets, with 
excellently whitewashed houses, with numberless green 
latticed balconies on which can be seen flowers, parrots, 
and pretty women, cross the city in endless, not alwavs 
regular, lines ; many booths covering the lower part of the 
houses, line in a picturesque manner the badly-paved 
streets, in which carriages are a rarity, whilst the people 
move on foot, on horseback, or on mules. Wherever the 
South spreads its soft arms, traffic goes on beneath God's 
free heaven. So it is in Spain, but not with the coarse 
noisiness that it does at the foot of Vesuvius, for quietness 
and a graceful dignity belong here equally to the peasant 
and the grandee. But how is it possible to describe the 




160 RECOLLECTION'S OF MY LIFE. 

Spanish women ? They are dressed generally in that colour 
best suited to bring out the charms of the fair sex, in black. 
The veil falls delicately on the shoulders, gracefully uniting 
with the mantilla, which is attached to the back part of the 
head ; the ever-busy fan moves easily and gracefully in 
the small hand ; old and young are dressed alike and the 
dark colour becomes both well. The old ones are mostly 
fat and too much rounded, the young ones delicate and 
light, with dark glowing eyes, splendid hair, ivory skin 
and fine neat limbs ; yet I found the much-praised Spanish 
foot too short, broad, and straight. The Spaniard is petite, 
yet full of dignity and grace in all her movements ; she 
does not show the frivolity of the women of other coun- 
tries, and she understands how to combine seriousness with 
playfulness. The Spaniard does not know the word 
f meanness,' but for all that he knows well enough what 
pride is. 

Southern street-life with its freedom and with its Spanish 
peculiarities here reigns everywhere, offering the stranger 
hundreds of interesting studies. As in Italy, rich fruits 
are sold in the streets, so here ; and the popular vehicles are 
drawn by the donkey and the strong mule. One sees the 
handsomest Murillo-like children covered with filth, and 
three objects in the motley scene amused me especially: 
devout men with immeasurably long hats which might 
well serve as a boat for children ; negroes as shoeblacks, 
showing the frequent intercourse with America; and bob- 
tailed cats, perhaps fated to end as a hare-substitute in the 
rnuch-praised olla podrida. 

Churches are the first thing one must visit in a foreign 

o O 

city : we saw the old and the new cathedral. The former 
is an imposing work, massively built of yellow stones in 
the Roman style ; it was the first instance we met with of 
the arrangement of the Spanish church differing essentially 
from ours. Immediately in front of the chief entrance the 



CADIZ. 161 

choir forms a square surrounded by stone walls, open only 
towards the chief altar, and separated at the open side 
from the rest of the church by a grating. In a side room 
we were shown a Mary Magdalene of Murillo. No full 
flesh, no dazzling bosom here delights the senses ; it is not 
a voluptuous Magdalene who, leaning over the Bible in 
a state of ecstasy, is being pleasantly enlightened ; no, 
this is Mary crushed, penitent, and pining away. Her 
arms are fleshless ; her thin face pale and yellow. When 
repentance seized the soul the delights of youth fled ; 
the sanctity of the anchorite possessed the tormented 
heart. The death of the flesh is vividly expressed in the 
face and body by dark, corpse-like colours, still the past 
speaks out of those eyes, out of her very position ab- 
sorbed as she is in prayer; the stormy times of youth 
are still visible, which must yet be atoned for. This 
Magdalene is tired of her sins and exhausted by prayers, 
the body is dying away, and the spirit, purified by severe 
torturing trials, struggles to return to its Creator. I saw 
here the first Magdalene who had really sinned, and had 
ceased to sin knowingly; whilst all the others, that of 
Correggio especially, were always too sweet and too hand- 
some to sin with energy, and still too pretty, too choice in 
their positions, to produce the conviction that they would 
not sin any more. 

The old cathedral is too small and too mean-looking for 
a city once so great and so rich as Cadiz ; but there is a 
rare sight to be seen in this small church the absorp- 
tion in prayer of the Spanish women. Neither kneel- 
ing nor sitting on the bare marble floor, wrapped up in 
devotion and in their black garments, the black-veiled 
head slightly bent forward, and gently fanning themselves, 
these foreshortened, dark figures, with their earnest, hand- 
some features, offer a charming picture of deep devotion, 
blended delightfully with unconscious coquetry. My travels 

VOL. I. M 



162 RECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

taught me that the Spanish women should be seen in the 
church and at a bull-fight to become acquainted with that 
wonderfully magnetic power which they exercise over us. 

Cadiz has too much the stamp of a commercial city to 
realise to the eye pictures of Spanish life in their rich 
glow and colour ; but to-morrow we go to Seville, into 
the heart of hot Andalusia. 

September 13, 1851. 

As the steamer does not start until 1 1 o'clock, we pro- 
menaded through the lively city, and visited at the hottest 
time of the day the salon de Christina, a favourite walk on a 
sea-bastion. These promenades, usually called alamedas, 
are a principal charm of Spanish life, and are always 
found, as also an arena for the Corridas, even in the 
smallest towns. But the chief hour for the promenade is 
in the evening : when the golden sun sinks into the sea 
and the cooling breeze fans the gently-undulating purple 
waves, then the charming daughters of Spain come out 
from the gardens of their clean, cool houses, decorated with 
orange and oleander, and saunter about the dark avenues, 
talking playfully, leaning on the arm of their slender, 
handsome adorers, with a rustling fan in the busy hand. 
Towards 11 o'clock we went on board the 'Kapido,' a small 
steamer plying between here and Seville. The sea was 
somewhat agitated, and it was amusing to observe the 
rocking of the many boats around our steamer, and the 
figures that crowded our ship. Now a stout matron had 
to be lifted on board with the utmost care, floating between 
air and water with a terrible liability to an accident ; 
now came a lady, pale and sighing, who in the boat 
itself had already passed through the preliminary evils of 
the coming voyage ; some arrivals were baptised by the 
foaming salt water. And not only was the human race 
represented, but the animal also ; a splendidly coloured 
American bird awaited its fate, many domestic animals 
were miserably kept in close bondage, and some fine 



VOYAGE TO SEVILLE. 163 

little silky poodles from Havanna were gently lifted on 
board in a basket. I began to look out for a snug place 
to observe quietly the world of passengers that as- 
sembled on our ship to make the voyage with us on 
the GKiadalquiver. A tall, slender lady with dark eyes, 
shining black hair, a lace veil thrown lightly back over 
her head, in a rich blue satin dress, ornamented with gold 
jewelry, and a Chinese fan in her hand, moved trium- 
phantly up and down, whilst some fine Spanish dandies 
with delicate moustachios and whiskers, and little sticks 
nourishing in their effeminate hands buzzed around her. 
Conscious of the adoration paid to her as the queen of 
the day, she took possession, with grace and dignity, of the 
principal place on deck, and the little gentlemen sur- 
rounded her like a goddess, proud to be drawn within the 
circle of her sparkling eyes. At first we took this rather 
striking group for a company of actors ; and heard only 
later, to our great astonishment, that the lady in blue was 
a duchess, and the Duchess of Medina Celi, one of the 
first ladies of the empire, who with her husband was 
taking a trip to Seville. In San Lucar, a little town on 
the Guadalquiver, her mother and very handsome sister 
joined the travellers. Some stout ladies also joined, who 
suffered later from sea-sickness. Several priests in lay 
dress and an endless number of children, full of noise and 
jokes, combined to overcrowd the small space. The 
anchor was weighed, and the vessel began a little dance 
along the level coast ; the elegant gentlemen became pale 
and still, and absorbed in sad meditations over the 
rising and falling of the waves ; the stout ladies stretched 
themselves on the seats of the cabin in the most comical 
positions ; but the Duchess kept up bravely, and we en- 
joyed our little breakfast amazingly in spite of the sighing 
and groaning of our neighbours. We were much taken 
with a fine, pale Spanish lady, who with closed eyes had 

M 2 



164 RECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

arranged herself picturesquely and immovably, half sit- 
ting, half lying on a chair, permitting us leisurely to 
examine her wonderful white face and her beautifully 
rounded figure ; as she always kept this passive position 
we called her the handsome corpse. At her side, and 
out of their basket, those silky poodles wagged their tails 
protectors of the black-dressed figure. 

Suddenly we shipped a sea, and one of the poor dandies 
got wet, and looked sadly at his soaked pantaloons ; but 
the terrors of the sea were soon passed ; Cadiz disappeared 
from our eyes, and we entered the Gruadal quiver, from the 
shores of which a cluster of the most splendid palms 
promised peace. At the mouth of the river the shore of 
the sea had that appearance which I had attributed in my 
mind to the coast of Africa ; it was level, yellow and mono- 
tonous, and ornamented only with a single green oasis and 
dazzling white roofless houses. 

One soon comes to San Lucar, a little town immediately 

J 

on the shore, celebrated for its coolness in the hot months 
of the Spanish summer, and visited by the rich of the 
country like Hietzing or Ischl, and considered as a kind of 
watering-place. 

Besides the relatives of our amiable duchess, whose 
husband, as I heard afterwards, is related to me in some 
kind of manner, as the Medina Celis owe their existence to 
an amour of a Spanish Hapsburg, our poor ship was still 
further crammed at this station by a crowd of passengers ; 
and, tormented with the heat, the noise, and the want of 
space, we commenced our voyage on the mighty stream, 
the old artery of hot Andalusia, which advantageously 
connected with the sea Seville, the capital of the Moors, 
and admitted large merchant ships to the very gates of the 
city. Once more was I disappointed in my too ready 
fancies, according to which the Gruadalquiver ought to 
have been the ideal of southern loveliness; whilst the 



SEVILLE. 165 

reality reminded me of the insipid country of the Magyars. 
Bare, endless, level, brown shores without a tree or a shrub, 
peopled by bustards and ducks, partly by herds of cattle, 
over which one now and then sees men on horse- 
back, with the little round velvet hat and the poncho, 
a kind of cloak in the shape of a square piece of cloth 
with a hole in the middle for the head, give a picture of 
melancholy monotony which unnerves one's spirit. If 
this country could be watered by this brown river, it 
might be prepared for splendid crops, like most parts of 
Hungary. But the Andalusian only works for the neces- 
sities of life ; (rod throws into his lap what he requires for 
the day, and more than this his merry light-mindedness does 
not require ; he eats figs and grapes, dances his bolero, and 
feeds his mind with his passionate interest in the Corrida 
de Toros. It was only at the close of this hot ride, when 
one began to feel the mildness of evening, bringing with 
it its beneficial coolness, that we perceived traces of 
culture and vegetation. Magnificent dense orange-groves 
with wonderful thick trees crowded to the very water's 
edge, refreshing the eye with their dark foliage; green 
meadow plots were interspersed between them. A man 
on horseback, in the national costume, with the rich 
spencer and the beautifully embroidered gaiters, seated no 
the high saddle, on a proud horse bridled in the old 
Spanish manner, was riding along the shore. The high 
mountains of the Sierra Nevada appeared far off; life was 
everywhere ; the country became richer, and as the river 
turned snake-like, expectation was strained to its highest 
pitch, for we felt that we were approaching the end of our 
voyage. Suddenly out of the fresh green the world-famed, 
tradition-rich cathedral of Seville arose, and the excla- 
mation, ' Quien no ha visto Se villa, no ha visto maravilla,' 
expressed my heartfelt enthusiasm. Another turn of the 
river, and the city was unfolded before our eyes ; to the 



166 KECOLLECTIOXS OF MY LIFE. 

right, the large Gothic cathedral with its splendidly winding 
Giralda, overtowering all houses and palaces ; around it, 
the historical city of Moorish and Spanish glory, the city 
of the sword and the guitar, the city of battle and of 
flowers ; on the shore, the Delicias, the favourite promenade 
of the handsome ardent Andalusians; the palace of St. 
Telmo, newly and splendidly restored by the Duke of 
Montpensier, richly ornamented with sparkling lilies ; and 
a strong tower, in which was kept the first gold which 
Columbus brought from America. 

The nearly finished, finely arched bridge of Queen 
Isabella spanned the river ; to the left, the Triana, the 
city of the gipsies and bandits, renowned for its crimes 
and mysteries ; and near it, that cold end of all striving 
and doing, a great cemetery with large cypresses, and the 
silent symbol of the palms. 

The steamer stopped between the Torro del Ore and the 
Palace St. 'Telmo. At the end of the Delicias we came 
into the city, and at its gate a few coins saved us from 
the troublesome examination of the custom-house officers. 
The moon stood high, and shed her beams mysteriously 
over the narrow streets, flooding with her romantic light 
the old gates, the rich cornices and finely-carved orna- 
ments of the splendid old cathedral. 

Passing by the mean-looking house of the barber of 
Seville, whose existence in former days the cicerone 
warranted, we came to the Place of the Constitution, or 
the Ajuntamiento, with the fine richly-ornamented build- 
ing of this name, which corresponds to our honest 
German ' Kath-haus,' and from there to our hotel, Fonda 
d'Europa, a Spanish building in the genuine sense of the 
word, with the renowned yard, the light arcades, the wide 
staircase with rich ceiling, and small cool rooms, whose 
brick floors and windows are covered with finely-made 
straw mats, and from which one steps on the small, lovely 



SEVILLE. 167 

balcony, around which play the sounds of the lute and the 
nightingale, and the fragrance of myrtle and jasmine ; 
and from which one looks on the narrow picturesque 
street, where from hundreds of balconies handsome women 
show themselves with a coquettish grace, half concealed by 
curtains and flowers. 

One of my chief amusements in hotels is to look at the 
pictures on the walls. Thanks to the feeling for art of 
these advanced modern times, one finds now all over Europe, 
and even in other continents, the history of the pious 
Grenevieve, the exploits of the bold Tell, and the trans- 
marine love-adventures of Paul and Virginia, pictorially 
represented. Here I found on the white walls of my 
little room, horribile dictu ! the ' Wandering Jew,' not 
only with French, but also with Spanish explanations. 
But the poison of France has extended to this golden 
peninsula, which, like the glittering, ever-moving drops of 
mercury, changes the precious metal into a grey, dull mass. 
I for my part have not read the ( Wandering Jew,' and 
shall not do so, as I do not see the good of such useless 
and tormenting books ; they neither amuse nor instruct, 
but cause only a momentary excitement, and relax both 
the heart and soul ; but they are the fashion ! and the 
Spanish hotel grandees must needs prove to the travellers 
that in this branch of modern literature they are not behind 
the age. Good luck to you ! Eugene Sue will store your 
souls with hatred to the clergy. 

The commissioner told us that there would be a bull- 
fight to-morrow the greatest and most remarkable na- 
tional festivity of the Spaniards an announcement that 
filled me with delight. In the charming Patio we took 
a comfortable supper, and in the cool green arcades, softly 
illuminated by the moon, I learned how to appreciate the 
Moresco-Spanish architecture. I say Moresco-Spanish, for 
in this style many houses of Seville are built, and spring like 



168 RECOLLECTION'S OF MY LIFE. 

our Fonda, either from the poetic days of the Moors, or 
are at least good imitations of that airy, skilful archi- 
tecture, at least in form, if not in the richness of orna- 
ment. With their charming interior yards they shade 
you against the oppressive heat of the day, and offer to 
the inmate a seclusion where he may indulge his tastes 
and enjoy his rest undisturbed. Do you wish, on the 
contrary, to enjoy the animated life of the streets, you 
step either on the small balconies of the out-walls, or 
you open the door or curtain of the front hall of the 
Patio, and leave only the neat iron railing separating the 
house from the street closed. Very interesting it is for 
promenaders to look stealthily through these iron railings 
into the charming mysteries of the house. Here one sees 
lofty arches with pure marble flooring, little fountains 
throwing their water into finely-carved basins, bloom- 
ing orange trees and oleander, and amidst them trie 
most delightful company, the most handsome women : 
illumined by elegant lamps in the day-time, from the 
mysterious twilight kept up on account of the heat, for 
the Patio is the proper sitting-room of the serious 
Spaniard, a blossom from the East; it is the centre 
equally of the royal palace and the most simple house. 
Yet the dwellings of the Spaniards are to be preferred 
to those of the Easterns, for these little balconies are 
prohibited by the jealousy and seclusion of Arab life. I 
stepped on mine, a fragrant cigarette in my mouth, and 
was delighted by the pure splendid sky, and looked down 
into the life of the narrow street. 

It was very early in the morning when we again as- 
sembled in the colonnade of our hotel, round a well- 
furnished table; the morning was fine, the air pure, and 
we enjoyed our breakfast under the light arcades opening 
out upon the pretty yard, which industrious hands had 
embellished with orange, lemon, and other southern trees. 



SEVILLE. 169 

The walls of the houses protected us against the glowing 
arrows of the southern sun ; there was an agreeable cool- 
ness in the Moorish walks. Under the bushy fruit-trees 
sat, as in the times of the Caliphs, falcons of every size, 
anxiously examining with their piercing eyes the objects 
around. 

We had entered the old Moorish city quietly and un- 
known, yet a dull rumour had already spread that some 
Northern grandee had made a pilgrimage to the more 
remarkable places of ancient history. Some had the 
inkling of a Hei^mano del Emperador, others believed 
old England had sent one of her scions to the splendid 
Peninsula. Our landlord, also, did not yet know exactly 
what to make of us, but he seemed to suppose that we had 
brought with us the appetite of the Northern inhabitants 
of the globe, for in spite of the earliness of the morning, 
abundance of meat and many other things were on the 
table, a proof that he did not hesitate to class us amongst 
the carnivorous. We all did honour to that classification. 
Coffee was served with goats'-milk at the end of the well- 
furnished breakfast. From this low estimate of the 
golden beverage, we concluded that our landlord, a Pied- 
montese, in spite of the smartness of his nation, had not 
yet guessed our Viennese origin. After breakfast the 
people in the house proposed to visit the Giralda, the 
Moorish tower of the cathedral of Seville. The way to the 
cathedral is not long ; one has to pass over the Plaza de la 
Constitucion, and we there took a closer view of the Ajun- 
tamiento palace. It is of the seventeenth century, and 
embellished with the finest ornaments ; even its columns are 
covered with bass-reliefs and arabesques, but like so many 
other magnificent works of the architecture of past times, 
it remains unfinished, and it seems also that its preser- 
vation is not much cared for. The walls and columns are 
of sandstone, and have the character of the Cinquecento 



170 RECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

style, and are still handsome, but on the eve of the over- 
ornamented and degenerate time. Here I came across 
some family recollections, recollections of a time when 
Spain, under the wings of the double-eagle, was on the 
highest pinnacle of power, and the greatest empire of the 
world ; days when a mighty Hapsburger spoke the words 
plus ultra, and opened for future times a road through the 
columns of Hercules. The eagle and rock-columns, with 
this sublime motto, ornamented the walls of the Ajunta- 
miento. Excellent-looking soldiers formed the guard. 
From this place we had to pass through a short lane over 
the most wretched pavement, for which the cities of Spain 
are distinguished, to come to the cathedral, which is the 
crown of the city, and one of the finest buildings of our 
ancestors. Here one finds the earnest and mystical Grothic 
halls, productions of a period deeply imbued with faith. 
Hundreds of ornaments cleverly and gracefully inter- 
laced ; narrow arches, which like the clasps of a crown, 
span from one dental to another ; high, painted windows, 
in pointed arches, which permit the glaring light of the day 
only to enter softened and subdued into the wide sacred 
halls ; all these combine to complete the impression. 
Here you see the peculiar elliptical arch of the Moors 
with the richness of ornament which, almost like fine 
laced patterns, embellishes the works of these Arab masters 
in a light and transparent manner. The little double- 
arches, and the small marble columns of the Giralda show 
that they were almost perfected under the dominion of 
Mohammed. 

The chief entrance is not at the principal fapade of the 
cathedral, which has two splendid gates, ornamented with 
small, finely-shaped projections, similar to those at St. 
Stephen's, but it is at the fapade on the left side. Before it is 
a wide yard, which is surrounded on three sides by buildings 
of the Moorish time, on the fourth by a more modern 



I 



SEVILLE CATHEDKAL. 171 

church connected with the cathedral from the interior ; 
the entrance-gate of this yard is Moorish, and distinguished 
by its fine vaulting. To the right and the left of the 
heathenish ornaments, four Christian statues stand on 
Gothic projections under small stone canopies; they are 
two apostles, the God-mother, and the angel of the Annuncia- 
tion. The yard, planted with fine orange-trees and with a 
marble basin in the middle, into which the cool water 
plays, shows that the Moors had changed the cathedral 
into a mosque, and the Patio de los Naranjos reminds 
us of the places before the mosques, as I saw them last 
year at Smyrna. It is a fine custom of the Mohammedans 
to offer to the faithful, before the gates of the houses of 
God, the refreshment of shade and water. We ought to 
have mounted the Giralda first, but I could not forbear 
entering the interior of the church at once. Five naves 
rise to an incredible height, and simple Gothic columns 
gracefully support the imposing dome. In the middle 
of the church rise the chief altar and choir, both con- 
nected by a passage enclosed by iron rails. Towards the 
chief altar the choir is separated from the rest of the 
church by an iron railing, and walls reaching up to the 
half of the building, so that, as in the new cathedral of 
Cadiz, it conceals the high altar from the chief entrance. 
The outer sides of the choir are ornamented by small halls 
and many altars standing behind railings, richly embel- 
lished with marble in the Cinquecento style ; the inside of 
the choir is filled with long rows of seats for the clergy, 
and over them rise on both sides the organs. It was just 
the time of the Hora. The high altar is raised several 
steps and separated also from the church on three sides by 
walls, whilst the fourth towards the choir is closed by a 
richly-ornamented golden railing. The outer walls which 
surround the altar are splendidly ornamented with images 
of saints close together, mounted on Gothic projections 



172 RECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

overhung with canopies. The ceiling of the altar and the 
space between it and the choir is embellished with the 
finest ornaments, quite new to me, and which reminded me 
of honeycombs. The vaulting between altar and choir is 
higher than the rest, and under it are small painted 
windows, which bring out the boldness of the architec- 
ture. The wall behind the altar is ornamented with 
pictures, and here hung a large red curtain covering 
the tomb of my patron, the holy Ferdinand. I had 
forgotten, if I ever knew, that this bold king was buried 
in Seville, therefore it made a great impression upon me, 
when the servant told me, on a sudden, that here rest the 
remains of him after whom I was christened, from whom 
I have the good luck to descend, and who, by the Church, 
has been appointed my chief representative at the throne 
of God. 

The coffin with the red cloth stands in the middle ; to 
the right and the left are high niches, in each of which 
stands, under a velvet canopy, a coffin ornamented with 
golden cover, crown, and sceptre. Here repose two chil- 
dren of Ferdinand the saint Alphonso the wise, and his 
sister. It was strange to see these coffins standing out, as 
if they had been exhibited to the eyes of the people only 
yesterday, and yet showing traces of great age. It was an 
imposing picture of old Christian royalty. The Saint and 
his children are united in that house of God which they 
wrested from the Moors, and selected for themselves as a 
place of rest ; the tombs are full of dignity and sanctity, 
not like those monuments of a sensual, mythological 
kind, without sign of faith or devotion, such as the proud 
Medici have erected for themselves, and such as you find 
frequently in Italy, where the conceited race believes that 
the dignity of religion may be replaced by a little sculpture, 
and by bombastic inscriptions. Here one stands by the 
graves of a holy family, in which simplicity and grandeur 



SEVILLE CATHEDEAL. 173 

humble themselves beneath the sign of the cross. On the 
railing which separates the chapel from the church, is re- 
presented the holy king on horseback, and before him the 
Moorish prince kneeling and presenting the keys of the 
city to the conqueror. The cathedral is still further orna- 
mented with a number of chapels; in one of which we 
were shown the finely-worked marble tomb of a Bishop 
Cervantes, of the same family as the author of ' Don 
Quixote.' Before the chief entrance is the grave of Fer- 
nando Columbus, the son of the discoverer, who is said to 
have made himself famous in Spain as an admiral. There 
are still two Murillos in this cathedral : an Ecstacy of St. 
Francis, and ja Guardian-angel. The first is a truly beautiful 
picture, full of deep feeling; the Saint kneeling in his 
brown cowl has his eyes raised towards heaven, before him 
floats the Christ-child blessing him, surrounded by clouds, 
in which is a circle of angels. The figure of the divine 
Child appears to me somewhat affected, as is sometimes the 
case with Murillo. The little angels, also, did not please 
me ; they are flying, falling, and climbing ; I do not ad- 
mire these gymnastics in such pictures, they are like those 
which Correggio delights in to excess. But the figure of the 
holy Francis is exquisitely beautiful. In his features and 
carriage are expressed so much warmth and devotional 
depth, that it is a saint divinely enlightened whom we 
see before us. I saw nothing very sublime in -the Guardian- 
angel. Murillo abounds in the greatest contrasts, not only 
in different pictures, but often in one and the same work. 
The beautiful, the noble, and the refined, may be found 
by the side of the rustic-like, low, sweet Madonnas and 
mean Christ-children. 

Especially noticeable are the chapels, which are arranged 
to the right and left of the side doors, for their great rich- 
ness in Gothic ornament. 

The Giralda is mounted from the back of the tower ; the 



174 RECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

greatest part of the building is, as I said before, Moorish, 
and rich in ornaments, marble columns, and burnt glazed 
tiles. The upper part was built by the Christian kings, if 
not entirely, yet almost entirely in the same style. Through 
the dwelling of the warder one comes upon the interior. 
As at St. Mark's tower in Venice, there are no steps, but 
slanting brickwalks to the top. The Giralda is the highest 
building in Spain. From its uppermost gallery one enjoys 
a wide view all around ; immediately underneath extends 
the wide, flat, terrace-like roof of the cathedral with its 
different heights, slantings and turrets, surrounded with 
a Gothic balustrade. One looks into the green Patio de los 
Naranjos with its Moorish charm, and so enjoys an insight 
into the life of the Gothic-Spanish times, into the poetical 
deeds of the Moors, and the proud grandeur of their con- 
querors. 

One can conceive a whole poem in the court on which 
we looked, and of which the cathedral and its surroundings 
would furnish in the highest degree the romantic elements. 
From this gallery you see the broad stream of the Guadal- 
quiver, which divides the masses of houses. The part 
beyond the river is called Triana, renowned in Spanish 
popular life by the many gipsies and smugglers living 
there. An iron bridge leads to it, which is not yet quite 
finished. The city which extends on this side of the river 
is of considerable extent, but according to Moorish fashion 
the streets are so narrow that one can see from above only 
a few marked lines, whilst all the rest resembles a wide 
confusion of houses. A large, fine palace in the style of 
the last century is a notable object; its wide courts, its 
splendid fapade, and its rich ornaments are very striking. 
One would think that this building, embellished with so 
much architectural adornment, was the palace of the sove- 
reign. Charles III., who built it as well as the gigantic 
palaces of Naples, was desirous either to open to the city 



SEVILLE. 175 

of the Moors a new source of gain, or he used utility as a 
mere pretext for satisfying his noble passion for building. 
It is Seville's celebrated cigar-manufactory which we so 
much admired. 

During my sojourn in Seville I frequently asked whether 
this building had not originally been intended for a monas- 
tery or palace, but I was always assured that it had been 
built for the purpose of a manufactory. Close by is a large 
garden, intersected by avenues, in the midst of which is 
raised a strange many-coloured palace. It belongs in its 
principal arrangement to the cinque-cento style, as is proved 
by its rich columns and the variety of its tasteful orna- 
ments, but still this romantic building is haunted by the 
old poetry of the Moors; it belongs to the exiled son of 
the French king, who lives here with his Spanish consort. 
Rut what is it which glitters there in gold and rich butter- 
fly colours? What is this lofty romantic building whose 
shining gable attracts the curious eye ? It is the Alcazar, 
it is the fairy residence of the old Moorish kings, with its 
motley dreams and its magical charm. To the left of the 
Alcazar a yellow painted, mean-looking gable of a house 
is seen, which however has become an object of interest 
to the lovers of art, for in this bouse Murillo breathed his 
last. That large round building on the opposite side, 
not far from the Gruadal quiver, is of particular interest to 
strangers ; here we shall in the course of the day look upon 
the greatest curiosity of Spain; for it is the Arena, in 
which the world-famed bull-fights take place. With what 
an ardent desire did I await the hour in which I was to 
see one of the few festivities which are handed down to 
this enervated century from the old chivalrous times ! We 
were also shown a wide space on which will take place to- 
morrow an act which in Spain is only too frequently neces- 
sary; it is the place of execution, on which early to-morrow 
morning a murderer will be executed by a quick justice, 



176 KECOLLECTIOXS OF MY LIFE. 

who committed his last crime only the day before yesterday. 
This act is performed in Spain in a peculiar manner: the 
murderer is strangled by an iron ring with a vice behind, 
which is placed round the criminal's neck. Our guide told 
us that an execution takes place every month. 

The bells of the churches commenced a peculiar song, 
which warned us that high mass had commenced. The 
ringing of the bells in Spain differs from what it is with 
us. Young people hang on the ropes and swing them- 
selves over the stone ground, and by this means they bring 
the bell into motion. We entered the cathedral where 
the priests had just prepared for the holy offering. We 
took our seats near the railing before the choir ; between 
us and the high altar knelt a graceful group of Spanish 
ladies with their black veils and mantillas. The fan, the 
banner of the belles, was here, in the house of God, 
in incessant motion ; its buzzing and rattling was heard 
just as in the theatre, and yet it has nothing offensive 
even to ears that are not used to it. The fan, reserved 
in other countries for coquetry, is managed here with 
dignity and grace, and is the result of a real necessity in 
this warm climate. Several priests with wing-like sur- 
plices waved through the wide space of the dome. In 
the procession of the officiators was a master of cere- 
monies, in old Spanish costume, with a black cloak and a 
little pigtail. This prolongation of the hair, once common, 
has become in our times a rarity. High mass com- 
menced behind the gilded grating, now and then the 
organ above our heads supported the song of the priests ; 
the epistle and gospel were read loudly but unintelli- 
gibly from high pulpit-like desks, at the two ends of 
the golden railings, and the moment approached, so 
sublime for faithful Christians. The touching strains of 
the organ were heard throughout the wide space; the 
heads of the devoted worshippers bent down at the sound 



THE ALCAZAR. 177 

of the bell ; the large column of incense rose like a 
fragrant cloud from the high steps of the altar and 
greeted the great offering, which brought the Lord of the 
world, the Son of God, in our midst. It was one of those 
sublime, solemn, deep-felt moments that exist only for 
the true Catholic, and exalt men to adoration. 

When the mass was finished, we visited the Alcazar. It 
is the work of a believing people, but who had not been 
enlightened by the true light. That propensity for sensual 
enjoyment, which forms such a great part in the life of 
the Mohammedan, shows itself pre-eminently in this work. 

One is astonished, one admires, and yet fancy only is 
excited, for this work of art lacks a higher earnestness. 
The chief entrance to the palace is through a light pic- 
turesque fa9ade covered with a net of ornament in the 
most brilliant colours, a wreath of finely interwoven 
arabesque, and other tasteful ornaments. Graceful little 
columns, and beautifully curved arches support the vaulted 
roof, which slightly projects, after the Eastern mode. 

As the carpet of the oriental is interwoven with gold 
and silver threads, so are the external walls of his house ; 
light, warm, and full of art is this building, like the 
poetical and charmful spirit of its founders. 

Over the gate of the outer court, in front of the chief 
building, is a verse of the Koran. We entered a wide 
space through the garden before us, in which lay a green 
sea of various plants between dense and closely-clipped 
walls of luxuriant orange trees. On the one side the 
garden was closed by a high wall with arcades, statues and 
grottoes. Shells and stones formed mosaic-like orna- 
ments in the walls, whilst regular terraces, with fine 
glazed slabs, led to a pond, in the middle of which was a 
bronze statue of Mercury. 

The garden facade of this palace rests on a vault 
encircling a white shady basin, in which Peter the Cruel, 

VOL. i. N 



178 RECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

surrounded by the intoxicating fragrance of his garden, 
bathed with his paramour, the notorious Maria Padilla, 
whilst his unfortunate wife, from a little prison that is 
still shown, was compelled to see the criminal pleasures 
of her husband. Yet well-informed persons assert that 
this Peter the Cruel, and the iron Philip II., enjoyed in 
Spain the greatest popularity. If Peter was terrible and 
Philip inexorable, still they left great historical memories, 
and therefore are the right kings for the Spaniards. 

We stepped through the green gate formed by orange 
trees ; the arms of Spain, and the initials of the reigning 
queen, are cut here in the fresh box. The greatest curi- 
osity in this peculiar garden, and surrounded by extra- 
ordinarily large, thick orange trees, is a pavilion in the 
Moorish style, built by Charles V., that dear ruler of 
my house, in which the great man used to dine. An ele- 
gant colonnade runs round the cool place, in the midst 
of which is a small basin ; but the fountain is now 
wanting to it. When we returned to the garden, some 
of the old waterworks were made to play at our request. 
How agreeable must it be to promenade amongst these 
magical contrivances ! how suited are these fountains for 
clear, Spanish moonlight nights ! Though this garden does 
not date from the time of Moorish greatness, yet their 
victorious successors have brought it into harmony with 
the building which we now entered. Through an ante- 
yard, we come to the staircase. It is broad and in a 
noble style; especially noticeable are the carvings of its 
wood-ceiling, in which one recognises the .spirit of 
Charles V. The upper rooms have had to undergo a 
restoration, as time and barbarian hands have damaged 
them. But there are still to be seen in them many 
splendid and wonderful things ; the spirit of the Caliphs 
still lives in these halls, and centuries could not efface 
what they created with a dreamy grace. What is the 



THE ALCAZAE. 179 

Alcazar ? a magnificent royal tent with delicately carved 
columns, over which are thrown the beautifully woven 
gold brocades of Damascus, the tapestry of India, and the 
delicate lace veil ! 

The eye almost expects that the gentle air will lift the 
fine lace veil, and that, stirred by the evening wind, the 
golden tapestry will move, but it is only the charm of art, 
of oriental witchcraft, which produces this effect ! This 
tent, created by fancy, which the kings of oriental origin 
created on the banks of the Guadalquivir, is of stone and 
solid material ; these tapestries which so excite our admi- 
ration, and whose ingeniously interwoven mathematical 
figures show the knowledge of the masters who contrived 
them, are a rich coloured mosaic of artfully glazed tiles 
and finely cut stones, and the lace veils are the finest 
chiselled work ever produced by human hand from clay 
and mortar. Each room has its peculiar charm, and would 
repay study ; some of the principal rooms break into two 
stories, and are encircled at the top with light galleries 
ornamented with marble columns, from which one looks 
down on the magnificent space below. On the right 
wing of the house we were shown a half Gothic, half 
Moorish chapel, dating from the time of Isabella of 
Castile. With great skill the earnest dignified lines of 
the Gothic style are combined with the richness and the 
poetical imagery of the East. The pointed arches created 
by the Christian spirit are embellished by the apple of the 
Moorish kings. The ingenious invention of the Moham- 
medans, the glazed tile, is here made to serve Christian 
purposes, and to form an altar-piece representing the 
Annunciation. Not far from the chapel, which might 
almost be called a house-altar, so small is its circumference, 
is a room in which a finely-carved, rich wood-ceiling recalls 
more modern times, and the builder of which, as the old 
cicerone said, was Charles V., one of the last sovereigns of 

N 2 



180 RECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

Spain who resided in this magic palace. The ambassadors'- 
hall in this same palace is the crown of Moorish art ; the 
richest abundance of ornaments which men could combine 
is lavished here to dazzle the eye. A large en trance- door 
leads from the court into this hall ; to the right and the 
left side spring light Moorish arches, which, surrounded 
by the most delicate ornaments, and supported by rich 
columns, lead to the side rooms. The ceiling of the hall 
is extravagantly ornamented with gold ; hundreds of years 
have passed, and still the metal glitters, still the colours 
glow in their oriental splendour, and are interwoven with 
a mysterious charm with the most beautiful and gorgeous 
enamel. One of the finest ornaments used in the palace 
are vine-leaves finely chiselled in stone, a proof that the 
Moors did not use the lines of geometry only for their 
ornament, but resorted also to the rich forms of nature. Ac- 
cording to the Koran the Mohammedans are not permitted 
to represent human figures ; and it is the later Christian 
sovereigns who have placed in the ambassadors'-hall these 
sitting likenesses of the Christian kings, and a few hand- 
some female heads, amongst which is the handsome, proud- 
featured Maria Padilla. Haughtiness is clearly expressed 
in the features of this bad woman. Under each of the 
pictures glitter the escutcheons of the represented, and 
the inscription shows their names, and, in the case of the 
kings, the year of accession to the throne and of their 
death. Especially to be remarked for taste are the 
Moorish ornaments over the entrance, which through their 
extremely fine network permit access to light and air. 
In no other country, where art flourishes, have I seen the 
like ; nowhere admired anything so delicate, so agreeable 
to the eye. The figures formed by these light lattices are 
as noble as they are lovely, and only a long study and 
lively feeling for art can succeed in producing such forms 
by the simple crossing of straight lines. Great art, also, 



THE ALCAZAR. 181 

is shown in the arrangement of the tiles ; they are many- 
coloured, but the principal colour is green, that of the 
prophet. At the first look one believes it to be a con- 
fusion of many-coloured bricks, but on closer inspection it 
is seen that the figures which in those wainscots surround 

o 

the walls only at the height of four to five feet from the 
ground, combine to form a principal figure, repeated 
throughout the palace, and bringing courts, galleries, and 
walls into harmony. The large chapel of the palace, in a 
more modern style, has no other interest than that it was 
once the dwelling of the notorious, charming Padilla, and 
leads by a secret staircase in the first story of the garden 
wing, to the rooms of Don Pedro. From an open gallery 
we had a view of the lovely, charming, interior court. A 
double row of arcades surrounds it on the ground floor 
and on the first story ; light columns support the match- 
lessly-ornamented and finely-curved arches; the mathe- 
matical arabesques of glazed tiles ornament the interior 
walls of the lower gallery, and, in the middle of the court, 
is a double marble basin in which a jet of water produces 
a cooling murmur. In the arcade-gallery of the ground 
floor, on the right side of the court, the king's splendid 
throne was raised, in the time of the Moors, sitting on 
which they received every year the tribute of the country 
in hundreds of its finest daughters. 

In the halls, where once reigned the brilliant life of 
despotism, is now the stillness of death, and only the steps 
of visitors now and then sound here, where once the soft 
carpets of Cashmere protected the foot of the caliph 
against the cold of the marble, and the sweet odour of 
amber floated fragrantly through the wide courts, where 
wreaths of roses surrounded the fine columns, and the 
sound of the lute and the murmur of the fountain filled 
the air beneath the still light of the moon. 

Charles V. understood how to adorn the wide court 



182 RECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 



which the sword of the holy Ferdinand had torn from the 
family of the prophet, but Spain's soft air relaxed the 
German and Frank rulers, and with them died great ideas 
and beautiful creations. 

Passing along the gallery we went through a door over 
which were painted three death's-heads, into a gorgeously 
ornamented room out of which led the secret staircase 
forming a communication between the dwelling of Pedro 
and Maria Padilla. The walls are embellished by splendid 
alto-relievos and arabesques, amongst which is the figure of 
a slave in chains, and chained in such a manner that he 
must look on a death's-head. Over the door leading to the 
rooms towards the garden, is to be seen a place on the 
ornamented wall covered with white paint; here were 
the painted figures of Don Pedro and the Padilla in a-n 
improper position. When Isabella of Castile moved to 
this palace she had this picture painted over. The other 
rooms are all adorned with Moorish magnificence, but have 
already caught the spirit of Christian times, and we found 
here, amongst the ornaments, the eagle and columns of 
Charles V. 

On the ground floor opposite the chief entrance is a 
kind of state or reception room, to which, from the arcades, 
a large, splendidly carved wooden gate leads, in which is 
cut a little door so small that one can only pass through it 
stooping. It is a pity that almost everywhere the mag- 
nificent and peculiarly vaulted Moorish door arches have 
been replaced by modern doors. Seen from below, the 
ambassadors' -hall excited afresh my admiration ; one sees 
well from that point the side rooms to which those airy 
arches lead. 

From one of the balconies of this hall Peter the Cruel 
purposely commenced a dispute with his brother, Don 
Federigo, who was entering from below, in consequence 
of which he caused him to be stabbed at a given signal. 



THE ALCAZAR. 183 

An inscription still shows the place where the murdered 
man fell. For another of his misdeeds he punished him- 
self in a most characteristic manner. In one of his nightly 
walks he had killed a man in the streets of Seville, and 
believed himself unseen ; but an old woman, by the light 
of a dim lamp, had recognised him by his peculiar limp. 
The murdered man was found next morning ; the Alcalde 
rushed to the king demanding justice for this deed. As 
the king believed himself unrecognised, he made no diffi- 
culty in granting what was asked, and promised that the 
perpetrator should be decapitated and his head publicly 
exposed. The Alcalde knew by means of the old woman 
who was the murderer, and now told the king that he had 
been recognised. Pedro would not order himself to be 
beheaded, but in order not to break his word altogether, 
he had his head hewn in stone without a trunk, and ex- 
posed it in one of the streets of Seville behind a grate, where 
it may still be seen to this very day. We saw a few rooms, 
of which some are renovated, in a not very tasteful manner, 
and after having put something jingling into the hand of 
the old cicerone, we stepped out of the palace through the 
large beautiful gates, passing through richly-ornamented 
guard rooms, envying those who saw this wonderful work 
at the commencement of this century, whilst all the walls 
were still sparkling with the brightness of many colours. 
In 182- occurred that horrible event, when an Englishman, 
who was inspector of the Alcazar, whitewashed all the 
splendid painted ornaments, with their fulness of life, and 
glory of colours, so that now one can only judge from parts 
of the magnificence of the whole. There is no epithet for 
such barbarism, and it is only to be regretted that this 
miscreant has remained unpunished, nay, has even died 
unnamed. 

Before leaving this place altogether I must say a few 
words about the general impression it left on me. 



184 KECOLLECTIOIS'S OF MY LIFE. 

The Alcazar is not a grand work like the Koman, Greek, 
or old German ones; it is not one of those buildings which 
impress the eye by its massive proportions; it awakens 
no great remembrances, like the Acropolis, recalling the 
whole history of a people. The Alcazar is the splendid, 
charming creation of a sensuous period, a light, graceful 
building, not containing within itself the idea of duration. 
Mohammedanism only allows to its faithful adherents tem- 
porary dwellings, and camps, on their earthly pilgrimage. 
The thought which animates the oriental is of a restless 
conquering expedition, till the sword of the prophet shall 
have succeeded in subjecting the whole globe ; therefore 
most of the houses in the Mohammedan cities are of wood. 
But the Alcazar suggests the idea, that the caliphs had 
intended to execute in stone, as a pattern of their tent or 
camp for future generations, such a temporary palace. 

The weariness of sight-seeing, an evil which frequently 
seizes upon the enthusiastic traveller, had enervated me, 
and I had still to see and admire a church containing some 
Murillos. Moreover, the stomach, a chief potentate in 
human life, was opposed to being any longer left uncon- 
sidered; it had to be satisfied. In the heat of the Spanish 
sun we tottered over a pavement, which, for its badness, 
is one of the curiosities of Europe, towards one of the 
city gates, when succour suddenly appeared. A mule 
approached with the much-longed-for refreshment in 
a basket, full of the most splendid Andalusian grapes. 
Supplied with fresh strength, we came to the gates of the 
church of St. Catherine. Like the common Spanish 
churches this one is simple and insignificant, whilst the 
altars are over-loaded with rococo gold ornaments. But the 
wealth of this church consists in its Murillos, of which one 
is an exceedingly dark picture one fancies one can dis- 
tinguish two figures ; the somewhat lighter head of another 
is full of effect, but not particularly fine. This large-sized 



THE CHURCH OF ST. CATHERINE. 185 

picture is over one of the side altars, on the left side of the 
church. But it is two large and two small pictures which 
are the chief attraction to the visitor here. The first large 
picture, to the right of the entrance, is a Lord's Supper ; it 
chilled me, and appeared to me neither noble nor charac- 
teristic, as is often the case with Murillo. The picture 
opposite shows Moses Striking the Eock, and calling forth 
the saving waters for the Israelitish people. Murillo's 
Moses is not that vigorous, grand figure which I could 
imagine leading the chosen people of Grod at the moment 
when the omnipotence and the mercy of Jehovah are re- 
vealed to the stricken people. I am too little of a con- 
noisseur to dare to judge, but I believe that this subject is 
one of the most difficult for an artist, and that he must be 
imbued with another spirit to give to the features of his 
Moses that combination of enthusiasm, humility and tri- 
umph required. The eye of this man of the miracle ought 
to light up at the successful deed, and yet he ought to be 
absorbed in admiration and astonishment, in deep-felt 
humility before the power working through him, before 
the grace that is conferred on the people by his hand. One 
figure in this picture interests in a wonderful and striking 
manner : it is a brown boy sitting on a donkey and looking 
at the spouting fountain with delight ; one of those clearly 
conceived, vigorous figures which Murillo has taken from 
Spanish popular life ; one rejoices with the child at the 
refreshment that the miracle is about to bring to him. 
The two smaller pictures are, Christ and John the Baptist 
as children. These are figures which Murillo created with 
the hand of a master. Though children of the Spanish 
people, they are lively vigorous natures, in pleasant round 
healthy bodies. As Kaphael and Vandyke are aristocratic 
painters, so Murillo is the genial painter of the people. 
He has a fine eye for art, though his vigorous figures are 
not always imbued with the most ideal spirit; and yet 






186 RECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

there is a striving upwards, nay, even to the divine, which 
one cannot fail to recognise in his works. Mostly, how- 
ever, he is chained to the earthly, by the reality of his 
Spanish models. A few of his Madonnas and Saints, like 
his holy Francis in the cathedral of Seville, are imbued 
with a higher spirit ; but I found no picture of Murillo 
which appeared to me to be altogether penetrated by this 
spirit, whilst one really feels that the highest works of 
Raphael have caught a celestial spirit. It is only necessary 
to remember the Sistine Madonna at Dresden, and the 
Vision of Ezekiel in the Pitti palace. 

From this church we went to our hotel, the Fonda 
de Europa, to strengthen ourselves by a dinner for the 
longed-for spectacle awaiting us. To-day I was to witness 
one of those much-talked-of bull-fights, for which the 
arena of Seville has become celebrated. The hours did 
not step quick enough for me, for impatience and rest- 
lessness had seized me. 

In order to become acquainted with the taste and 
fancies of the Spanish people in all its varieties, we had 
ordered for dinner an olla podrida, which is one of the 
most excellent and most delicious dishes that ever tickled 
my palate. A mixture of different meats, excellent 
sausages and hashes, abundance of cabbage and other 
vegetables, amongst which, to the horror of civilised readers, 
were also onions and garlic, in combination with oil, yield 
an extraordinarily nutritious dish. Since I have tasted it, 
I can henceforth appreciate the exceeding pleasure of Don 
Quixote and other Spanish heroes at the hope of finding 
it in some posada. After dinner we took our cigarettes, and 
thus passed the day, which lingered long, whilst we were 
kept cool by the shade in a Spanish rocking chair on a fine 
reed-mat, puffing fragrant smoke into the air. Impatiently 
looking at my watch, I saw its hands at last approach the 
hour appointed for the fight. Gladly we stepped into our 



THE ARENA DE LAS CORRIDAS. 187 

equipage, which might serve for a Cardinal's, from its red 
lining, and we proceeded to the Arena de las Corridas, a 
large round building standing in an open place ; a detach- 
ment of lancers was on guard before it. We should have 
entered by the middle gate, but according to our tickets we 
were directed to a side door. After having squeezed our- 
selves up a staircase, we went through a gallery, and stood 
suddenly under the interior galleries in the wide, imposing 
space of the arena. We were directed to a stone seat, 
between two columns, behind an iron balustrade, which 
by a special grace to us had been provided with a back. 

Under ordinary circumstances I should hate to sit in 
such a crowded space, but what sacrifice would one not 
make for the spectacle awaiting us ! After we had taken 
our places, we could look out on the wide open space before 
us, and the galleries beneath and behind us. The arena, 
which has a great resemblance in form to the antique, is 
one half of stone, and the other of wood. Roofs supported 
by light arcades protect the spectators against the glowing 
sun. In the middle of the stone compartment rises the 
Eoyal Tribune ornamented with the crown, and under it is 
a large gate ; opposite this place is the box of the Im- 
presario de la Corrida, also over a wide gate. The interior 
space of the arena in which the fight takes place is ellip- 
tical ; a tolerably high wooden partition protects the public 
to a certain extent against the dangers of the fight. In 
certain parts of this partition are openings, with wooden 
screens before them, painted with the attributes of the 
Corrida ; they serve the fighters as a refuge. 

Looking at this wide space, and thinking of what was 
coming, I was seized with an uneasiness, a doubt whether 
I should be able to look at the bloody game which was to 
take place before me. I had already made up my mind 
to leave the arena ; an inward feeling urged me from my 
seat, but the galleries filling more and more retained me, 



188 RECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

the aspect of stirring life overcoming for a moment the 
uneasy feeling. Hundreds of tints of Sunday dresses 
blend together in boxes and galleries. The slender men 
with their little round felt hats, their embroidered jackets 
and red sashes, move about with an incessant restlessness, 
and make a noise, cry, and whistle, practising in this man- 
ner the chorus for the coming spectacle. Hundreds of 
fans rustle and rattle with a continuous movement. The 
abanicos* of the rich shine in the brightest colours of China, 
whilst the poor and the stronger sex, who on other occa- 
sions do not use this instrument, are fanning themselves 
with fans only purchased to-day of cane and paper, on 
which is printed a scene of the Torillos, and some Spanish 
poetry for the occasion. Dark little heads moving up and 
down with sparkling eyes, and fresh roses under the lace 
veil in their raven hair, the mantilla gracefully wrapped 
around the shoulders, chatted away on the stone seats. 
Do these red lips part in order to tell of pleasant ball 
memories? are the laughing starry eyes examining the 
merry ranks of the coming dancers? No ! Seville's daugh- 
ters are only pleasantly excited in expectation of the 
bloody fight. Some officers in rich uniform entered from 
the door behind us, and with them one of the most charm- 
ing and beautiful apparitions I ever came across whilst in 
the Spanish country. She took her place near us, so that 
I could examine the play of her features and each of her 
movements; at this stage she seemed only to be joking 
with one of her admirers, but I intended to observe her 
during the terrible moments of the fight. The noise of 
the crowd and the rustling of fans became ever louder and 
more impatient. Between the general hubbub were to be 
heard the piercing voices of the vendors of refreshments. 
One would expect that the pretty lips of the daughters of 
Spain would seek for something cooling in ice-creams, that 
* The name given in Spain to the elegant Chinese fans. 



A SPANISH BULL-FIGHT. 189 

the pearly teeth with which every mouth in Seville is 
ornamented, would only crack biscuits. Oh, no ! Savage 
as the Spaniards are in their pleasure, they are equally 
primitive in the objects which they offer to their palate : 
only water, and Spanish Wind, were handed round."* 

The large wide arena was filled ; the sun shone on a 
part of the building, probably not much to the pleasure of 
those on whom he shed his ardent beams. A deep blue 
sky arched over a wide space, and formed a most beautiful 
ceiling. The picturesque, motley crowd became still more 
noisy ; they knocked against the wooden seats ; the people 
commenced to exercise the right which had belonged to 
them for centuries : the right to direct the game, at least 
partly, by their cries. The spectators felt that the hour 
had come, and I partook of their impatience with in- 
comprehensible excitement. Now the trumpets sounded, 
the door of the large tribune opposite us opened ; the 
noise became still more general, like the roar of a rushing 
flood ; all looks were directed to a man, who appeared in 
the arena on a stout and vigorous Spanish horse. Our 
Italian cicerone told us all about this figure, and what 
was to follow. It was the impresario, who rode in to 
receive from the authorities who were sitting in the great 
tribune, the key for the opening of the festivity. Gener- 
ally it is the Duke of Montpensier who throws the key, 
but the prince was not present to-day. The impresario 
stopped his horse amidst the joyful shouts of the crowd. 
The Spaniards who, like all southerners, yield to any 
opportunity for excitement, and then give vent to their 
feelings, have also subjected this ceremony of the throwing 
of the key to applause or to censure. Thus, if the im- 
presario catches it with his hat, then roaring and 
clapping of hands follow; if the key falls on the sand, 
then the people laugh and hiss. The functionary saluted, 

Spanish Wind. A very light kind of pastry, sometimes also called Windbag. 



190 RECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

and from the balcony came flying a key richly ornamented 
with ribbons, but it fell unfortunately on the sand. There 
was hissing and laughter. Fresh flourish of trumpets, 
and the strains of military music created an enthusiasm. 
We had a splendid view. There entered with a proud 
light step the espados with their quadrilles, the pioadores 
and banderilleros in rich old Spanish costume. They 
were followed by the mules ornamented with little flags 
and bells, ready to bring away the slaughtered animals. 
Old Spain approached with her ancient customs, with her 
splendid magnificence of dress, and with her imposing 
movements. Confident of their courage and of victory, 
the combatants entered the great assembly with a proud 
look. They were greeted exultingly from all parts ; the 
finest eyes sparkling in the galleries shot at them their 
fiery arrows ; it was one of those state processions in 
which not only money that petty motive power of 
modern times did its best, but where the feeling, the 
consciousness of their own strength alone lent dignity to 
these men. How rich, and how favourable to the exhi- 
bition of their fine forms, was the dress of the espados 
and their quadrilles ! Tastefully embroidered, beautiful 
silk spencers encircled the slender body ; over the 
shoulders flowed embroideries of gold and silver, like 
rich nets of leaves. No tie pressed the free neck ; the 
rich hair, to the advantage of the noble features, was 
combed back and ended in a little silk tail, ornamented 
with a rich tuft of black silk netting ; on the head was a 
jaunty velvet cap ; the waist was encircled by a broad 
sash ; the breeches, also richly ornamented with gold and 
silver, were of the same material as the spencer; from 
the knee downward, the well-formed, supple leg was 
encased in fine pink or white silk stockings ; over their 
shoulders hung gracefully and in rich folds silk cloaks 
with richly-embroidered collars. In this fashion were the 



A SPANISH BULL-FIGHT. 191 

espados, their quadrilles and banderilleros, clad. The 
picadores, or mounted combatants, had the same rich 
spencers, sashes, and mode of dressing the hair as the 
other combatants, but, instead of the little velvet cap, 
they had that flat, broad-brimmed, grey hat celebrated in 
pictures, with the many-coloured bands of ribbon which 
held the tail horizontally on the head of the horseman. 
High boots, under the yellow leather trousers, which were 
discovered by the stiff movements of the men, protected 
them against the sharp horns of their antagonist. In 
his right hand each picadore held the pica. He sits on 
the high Andalusian saddle, his foot resting in the broad 
Moorish stirrup. 

After the combatants had made their proud entry, 
accompanied by the roaring applause of the people, they 
distributed themselves about the arena, and changed their 
cloaks for others more suitable for the fight. The mule 
teams disappeared through a side gate ; the military music 
ceased ; opposite the principal tribune a shrill flourish of 
trumpets proclaimed the culminating moment. The gates 
open ; the movement becomes more anxious, the excite- 
ment indescribable ; the bull, a black son of the herd, 
which, wounded in the neck by a javelin, and orna- 
mented with a white and blue ribbon, rushes forward 
with powerful leaps amidst endless cheering and loud 
enthusiasm. Suddenly he stands as if spell-bound, and 
looks long and wildly on the thousands and thousands of 
spectators. He proudly surveys the place on which he is 
to fight and to die. There he is surrounded by the noble 
forms of the combatants, who flutter their cloaks before 
his eyes. Irritated, he bows his head, and rushes upon 
those who wave the cloaks, and who, with a light graceful 
movement, manage to evade him. Again the cloaks are 
waved before him, and again, threatening with his horns, 
he rushes after his audacious enemies; one thinks he 



192 KECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

must reach them in his wild course; that he must run 
his horns into their sides, when they with incredible 
swiftness and indescribable grace jump over the wall of 
the arena, or save themselves behind the small wooden 
screens. It is now the object of their art to irritate the 
furious bull in such a manner as to make him run 
towards the picadores, who are waiting for him on horse- 
back. He pauses a moment before the horsemen, then he 
rushes with all his might against them : one expects the 
most dreadful things to happen; but a well-directed thrust 
with the lance in his back makes him rebound at once 
from all three picadores. The bull is wounded ; blood, 
warm blood has flowed, the approaching fight changes 
my anxiety into a singular pleasure. The frantic ac- 
clamations of the people accompany the combatant, and 
at each movement of the bull, I looked at Spain's hand- 
some daughters who were near me: their features were 
perfectly calm, nor did they shudder on seeing the 
gaping wounds. Again those combatants, so beautiful 
in their movements, wave their cloaks as they hover 
round the bull, which is now beginning to be furious 
and to pursue them as if it were mad. If the game 
becomes too dangerous, they throw their cloaks at its 
feet, which it attacks furiously, thus affording them time 
for escape ; or another combatant with his cloak allures 
the pursuer in another direction. Once more the pica- 
dores await the charge of the bull. They thrust their 
lance towards it, but this time, instead of flying, the bull 
rushes with his sharp horns against the flanks of the 
horse. The horse receives a mortal wound and the pica- 
dor falls to the ground. 

The interest becomes keener and keener as the fight 
gets more exciting. Whilst the picador remounts his 
bleeding horse, the bull in a magnificent rage plunges 
his horns into the horse of another combatant. As long 



A SPANISH BULL-FIGHT, 193 

as the horses can keep on their feet the picadores 
mount them ; their very entrails protrude, and they drag 
themselves along half dead. The bull makes a fresh 
attack, throwing the horse, which succumbs to its antago- 
nist, amidst the furious acclamations of the crowd. The 
bull, having given several mortal thrusts, in none of which, 
thank God, any picador has been wounded, a fresh flourish 
of trumpets announces the arrival of the banderilleros. 
These are most skilful men, who plant between the 
shoulders of the bull two long javelins ornamented with 
coloured paper. On their appearance the picadores retire. 
With matchless ease and dexterity the banderilleros run 
their weapons into the flesh of the bull, which makes 
straight for them. 

A light and graceful movement saves the man from 
the sharp horns of the bull ; yet the animal is enraged 
at the javelins which, striking into it on both sides, flutter 
about its head the more it turns and defends itself. 
After having been wounded by six or eight of these 
javelins, the trumpets sound anew, and Luca Blanca, the 
richly-dressed handsome matador, steps forward amidst 
the acclamations of the spectators before the chief tribune, 
greets the authorities, and asks in a few words whether he 
may give the bull the coup de grace. The celebrated red 
cloth flutters on his arm, a pointed blade is in his hand. 
Looking round the assembly, he waves his hat horizontally 
three times as a death signal ; after which, with a grand 
and firm step, he walks up to his enemy. The quadrilles 
irritate the bull with the waving of their cloaks; Luca 
Blanca flutters before him his scarlet cloth ; the bull 
rushes against it with rage; Luca Blanca evades him 
with agility. Several times this play is repeated, and 
the excitement heightened by it. Suddenly the bull 
takes a direction favourable to the matador, stops a few 
paces before him, throwing up clouds of dust with his 

VOL. i. o 



194 RECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

foot, lowers his head and rushes with full force against 
the red cloth. The great moment is come, and moved as by 
magic the people rise at once without a shudder, without 
fear of danger, to observe with the eye of connoisseurs 
the mortal stab. This general electrical movement is one 
of the grandest sights to the eye of a stranger, and proves 
how completely this spectacle has entered into the heart 
and soul of the people. Luca stands proud and fearless 
as if spell-bound. Suddenly raising his blade, he thrusts 
it unerringly sure and up to the hilt, into the back 
of the animal. The bull totters and falls down upon the 
sand ; the exultation of the crowd is boundless, the air 
vibrates with their acclamations. A wild intoxication 
seizes upon me ; I feel myself borne along ; and become 
eager for the bloody scene. As a conqueror he steps 
before the tribune, and bowing, responds to the thousands 
upon thousands of looks that are fixed on him with ab- 
sorbing interest. He is the king of the moment, and has 
electrified the multitude. As a sign of approval, hats 
are thrown to him from several parts, which he flings 
back with grace to the galleries. 

With different eyes I look upon him during the following 
scenes. How the feelings of a man can be changed in so 
short a space as a quarter of an hour! On entering I felt 
uneasy and very uncomfortable, and now a mania for the 
bloody spectacle possessed me. The bull and the dead 
horses were dragged away by the mules amidst the music. 
The people were still in their exulting mood when the 
second bull appeared, and the noble fight commenced 
anew. This animal was less strong than the first, and 
the fight less bloody. A second espado, named Jose 
Carmona, a fine, well-built man, was far inferior to Luca 
Blanca in his manner of giving the coup de grace. The 
first stab did not hit the spine, so that the animal did not 
fall. He had to get the sword out of the wound for a 



A SPANISH BULL-FIGHT. 195 

new thrust ; he succeeded, and the bull fell and was 
stabbed with iron instruments in the back until he 
expired. I was beginning to experience the genuine 
Spanish feeling, and I suffered the matador, who was a 
tyro, to pass before me without applauding him. 

And now appeared a third bull, the most vigorous and 
the most handsome of the animals. He carried his wide 
horns with pride on his strong forehead, and his sinewy limbs 
were short and solid. He earned loud applause immedi- 
ately by his wild, dashing entrance. I could not turn my 
eye from the animal and its aggressors ; each moment of 
the fight enchained me with irresistible force. How the 
attention of all were strained to the utmost when the en- 
raged bull placed himself before the picador, measuring 
him defyingly, and then, with full force, rushed against 
horse and rider! This is a most exciting moment, but 
when the bull has plunged his horns deep into the flanks 
of the horse, he generally leaves off, and does not wound 
his victim any more, so that the picador brought to the 
ground is safe against his rage. The bull generally directs 
his thrusts into the belly of the horse, so that the bleeding 
entrails protrude. The poor animal's right eye, which is 
next to its antagonist, is covered with a cloth. Once dur- 
ing the games of to-day the bull caught the horse behind, 
and lifted it several times. But the spectator's nature 
is soon changed ; his original nature is awakened ; wild 
passion gains the mastery, and he is annoyed when the 
bull does not succeed in-his deadly thrust, when the phases 
of the fight are not steeped deep enough in blood. This 
time also Luca Blanca gave the coup de grace., and fresh 
acclamations filled the air. One horse had died on the 
spot ; another, already mortally wounded, but still stand- 
ing on its legs, was dragged away by the mules, amidst 
the laughter of the crowd. The Spaniards are peculiarly 

wild and relentless. In such moments as these one 

o2 



1P6 RECOLLECTION'S OF MY LIFE, 

becomes aware of the sort of fire smoulderiDg in Spain. If 
a bull is not courageous enough in his attack, the crowd 
hisses and roars, and endeavours to irritate him by waving 
handkerchiefs. 

In the box next to ours, sat an old man with an Anda- 
lusian hat, and singularly lively features. He took an actual 
part in the fight from his box, bent forward, called to the 
espados, and enabled us plainly to recognise the fanati- 
cism still prevailing in Spain for these fights, and how 
popular this festivity is. But there is a peculiar charm 
in the Torillo ; the excitement produced by the sight of 
danger carries every mind irresistibly away along the 
stream of enthusiasm. I was told of a stranger, who 
expressed himself strongly as to the barbarism of this 
festival (his tender feeling made him abhor what he had 
not seen), that a friend who knew from experience the 
charm of this national pleasure, induced him, though filled 
with abhorrence, to visit the Corrida. At the sight of 
the noble combat he was also seized by the sweet, wild 
intoxication, and eagerly asked his friend when the next 
bull-fight would take place. I only regretted that my 
sojourn in Spain was not long enough for me to enjoy 
this splendid sight again. 

A fifth bull now rushed upon the arena ; a splendid 
fellow. This was indeed a bull worthy of the * fiesta ; ' his 
thrusts were dreadful. Conscious of his strong horns, he 
justified the acclamations of the people. All looks are 
directed on him ; the people rise ; they appreciate the 
moment of danger, and exultingly roar for blood, for 
deadly wounds ; horse and rider reel ; a second picador 
falls with his horse, the spectacle is horribly beautiful, 
dreadfully sublime. Horse and rider fall in a heap ; a 
horse receives a few deadly thrusts and expires. The 
people get mad ; this is a bull the Spaniards love and 
applaud. Trumpets sound, flames and noise fill the air, 



A SPANISH BULL-FIGHT. 197 

the javelins had been provided with rockets to increase 
the rage of the bull in every possible way. A fresh blast 
of trumpets ; but what surprises me is that Luca Blanca 
steps gracefully before our box ; whilst all looks of the 
arena are turned towards us. The brave espado ad- 
dresses me with dignity in a congratulatory manner, and 
announces that the coup de grace will be given in my 
honour. A strange feeling comes over me, for the looks of 
the whole arena are directed upon me ; and a murmur 
runs through the multitude. I cannot deny that I felt flat- 
tered by this national homage. I even fancied myself 
back in the fine old times, when the Hapeburgs were the 
rulers of this noble people. It was whispered to me that, 
after the Spanish fashion, a purse with silver was the 
accustomed reward. We got our Spanish rixdollars ready. 
Luca waves his red cloth, the bull rushes furiously about, 
the espado plunges his sword deeply into the back of his 
antagonist, and withdraws it, to the delight of the people, 
from the gaping wound. The animal falls. With a trium- 
phant smile, Blanca steps to the front of our box, and 
amidst the joyous strains of the Tango Americano, and the 
acclamations of the spectators, a heavy purse falls at the 
feet of the victor. 

I felt a happiness in giving this reward to the brave 
fellow. Luca Blanca is picturesque in all his movements ; 
proud and calm, he treats the fight as a play. During the 
Corrida he was pursued by one of the bulls ; he retired 
behind one of the wooden screens, but the animal stopped 
suddenly as if spell- bound. The espado stopped also ; and 
resting on one foot, he leaned with his left arm calmly on 
the board wall. The cloak fell down at his side in rich 
folds, and with a mocking smile he looked at his antagonist, 
as if it were a lamb. The fight has no entre-actes, but 
after the deed is accomplished, the matador steps behind 
one of the screens. 



198 RECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

The sixth bull, and to our regret the last, now entered 
the arena : a fine strong animal of a golden yellow 
colour. This fight was full of interest and movement. 
At one time it was especially attractive, for the bull 
caught the horse of a picador on its legs, and threw it to 
the ground ; the rider was half under it, on the sand. 
The furious animal made another rush against the horse 
and ran right over it; the picador was supposed to be lost; 
it was a moment of intense excitement ; but in his blind 
rage the bull rushed over the lancer, and he was saved. 
Jose the matador-tyro killed this animal also, but his 
thrusts wanted the firmness of Luca. 

The corrida is finished ; the people stream into the 
arena, and towards the entrances, and I left, with a 
sense of the highest pleasure, a place that had become 
memorable to me, and in which I had passed the most 
interesting hours of my travels. When they read these 
lines at home in the warm saloon before the hissing tea- 
urn, sandwiches and sweet tarts, I guess the lot which 
awaits me. A beautiful circle, preferring little excursions 
at home to adventurous voyages, breaking out in idyllic 
ecstasies about the note of the nightingale in the grove 
close by, or the chirping of a cricket, will sing out in 
horror : ( Has the poor youth left us to become a bar- 
barian in far countries ? ' Yes, they will say so ! and 
I shall console myself as I answer, with an ironical 
smile: 'You poor people do not know what a corrida 
is ! what strong sense, what a splendid development 
of strength and skill is represented in this national 
feast ! ' 

I love such festivals, in which the original nature of man 
comes out in its truth, and much prefer them to the 
enervating, immoral entertainments of other luxurious 
and degenerate countries. Here bulls perish, there heart 
and soul sink in a weak, sentimental frivolity. I do not 



NATIONAL SPORTS. 201 

animal remained standing before him spell-bound. The 
same gentleman, who is at the head of a company in a 
small city we visited, has established a wide building for 
the corrida. On noticing with pleasure my enthusiasm 
for the fight, he told me that there would be an oppor- 
tunity in December to see a splendid festival of this kind, 
as the higher nobility of Spain would celebrate the 
Queen's delivery by a bull-fight, and that the sons of the 
grandees would themselves appear in the arena. Thus the 
proud people celebrate the coming of an heir to the throne, 
and thus the queen is here greeted as a mother. The people 
love the sport so much that they starve themselves during 
the week, that, after having attended prayers in the 
morning, they may pass the hours of the Sunday after- 
noon in this excitement, and collect material for gossip 
for the week. With us, the lower labouring classes drink 
and eat away their wages, and pass black Monday idling 
and intoxicated. Which is best, I leave to the judgment 
of my readers. 

Almost every town in Spain has its corrida, and July 
and August are the best months for the fight, as at that time 
the bull is wildest. May my good luck bring me again to 
Spain at that season to study this fight still further, and 
the spirit of the people exhibited in it, and once more to 
enjoy that intoxicating enthusiasm arising from the fight, 
at the expense of being called by sentimental lips a bloody 
barbarian, un jeune Iwmme, denature! I shall be repaid 
by exulting Spanish lips, by the applauding glow of An- 
dalusian eyes, and cannot forbear calling out amidst the 
waving of mantillas and the rustling of fans : ' Spaniards, 
I envy you this old festival ! ' 

From the arena we drove to the adjacent Delicias on 
the shores of the Gruadalquiver. Though it was beginning 
to get dark, there were still many carriages of an odd 
shape and colour moving to and fro in the avenues. It 



202 RECOLLECTIONS OP MY LIFE. 

was a novelty to see the fine strong mule before a carriage, 
arid to hear the merry sound of the little bells with which 
the richer teams are ornamented. We were astonished at 
the elite of Seville with their mantillas, lace-veils, and 
flowers in the hair, who use the fan in the open carriages, 
as if the Delicias were a saloon, as indeed they are. 
The air is soft and agreeable, the sun has ceased to glow 
in the firmament, the moon softens with her mild light the 
fine complexion of the ladies ; what more is required for 
the noble Spanish lady to appear to the best advantage ? 
Happy the country where romance has not yet utterly 
been stifled by French fashions, where the women have 
yet sense enough to understand that the same pattern and 
the same head-dress are not suitable for every nation and 
every face, and many things may suit a grisette well which 
will not agree with the features of the black Manola. 

But let us return to the Delicias and look with our 
readers at one of the more striking equipages, a rather 
large coupe drawn by two stately, richly-ornamented 
mules : coachman and footman are in livery, the carriage 
is lined with red, and on its cushions reposes an old man, 
enjoying the pure evening air. He is the cardinal-arch- 
bishop of Seville ; so great is the iove of the Spaniards for 
the Alameda, that even the aged Cardinal still drives in 
the evening on this lively promenade to enjoy the merry 
life of the people. To wind up the day we went to the 
fine, great theatre, where unfortunately an Italian opera 
was represented, and badly too. Some strikingly hand- 
some ladies graced the boxes ; in one of them I perceived 
one of the dandies of the vessel from which we disembarked 
yesterday, striving to make the oppressive heat more bear- 
able by the use of a fan. Sleep soon drove me from the 
theatre, and after a day of much excitement, I sought and 
found sleep behind my mosquito-curtains. 



THE HOUSE OF PONTIUS PILATE. 203 

Seville, September 15, 1851. 

To-day our pilgrimage was directed to the house of 
Pilate where Jesus was scourged, and where Pilate pre- 
sented the ill-treated Saviour to the deluded people with 
the words ' Ecce homo ; ' and, frightened by the cries of 
the roaring people, ordered a basin to be brought, and 
washed his hands of that terrible crime, a ceremony fre- 
quently repeated in later times with memorable luck. 
But how does the house of Pilate come to be at Seville ? 
It is said that an ancestor of the Duke of Medina Celi, on 
his return from a pilgrimage to Jerusalem, had an exact 
copy of this house constructed in his native city. But 
either the house of Pilate in Jerusalem has been entirely 
rebuilt between the time when our Redeemer was on 
earth and that pilgrimage, or the house in Seville is 
a fancy building. The style of the house of Pilate in 
Seville, in which the family still lives, is the rich Moorish. 
The courts are enclosed by light arcades, the staircase, over 
which our Saviour is said to have passed, is covered with 
azulejos in relievo, full of the most splendid ornaments in 
clay-slabs, like the stoves we see in all knightly castles. It 
was only the various fragments of statues placed in the 
arcades and said to come from the house of Pilate, that 
reminded us, in a manner by no means agreeable, of the 
time of the Roman Emperors. A lovely garden, full of 
roses and oranges, and a cool arbour, in the midst of 
which was a small Moorish fountain, which played, no 
doubt, in better times, ornament this house so renowned in 
Spain. 

On another occasion we entered the interior of the 
palace-like cigar-manufactory, in which one can trace the 
whole fabrication of the raw leaves as they come from 
America, to the cigar boxes packed for European use, 
the small packets of cigarettes for Spain, and the sealed 
tin cases of a most excellent Seville tobacco. In these 



204 RECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

endless vaulted galleries four thousand women and girls 
are occupied daily. Their ever-busy industry, the con- 
fused merry buzzing and chatting of the girls, and yet the 
exemplary order of this female army, constitute, withoiv 
doubt, the most interesting part of this giant manufactory 
The female labourers sit at numerous tables, a heap o 
large brown leaves before them, which, after they have 
moistened their fingers with gum-water, they roll up 
quickly, wrap round a small leaf as a cover, and clip the 
little roll on one side with a strong pair of scissors ; thus 
in one moment a fragrant cigar has been made out of a 
prepared leaf. 

The work-people are paid according to the number of 
cigars they make. For the cigarettes, little paper tubes 
are filled by means of a funnel, with finely-chopped 
tobacco, after which they are weighed with the greatest 
quickness by a kind of forewoman. All this is the work 
of a moment and done gracefully and amidst merry chat- 
ting. In contrast with our own factories here all is life 
and freshness, and everybody seems to work with plea- 
sure. Amongst the four thousand females, who, accord- 
ing to the custom of the country, had flowers in their 
black hair, I saw few really handsome faces. Many 
moved gracefully, many had coquettish ways, but all were 
in a military order, which is kept by stout odd-looking 
duennas, who, like generals used to victory, walked through 
the ranks, proudly mustering them. A few dark daughters 
of the Triana, from the celebrated tribe of the GHpsies, sat 
between the Moorish-Gothic sisters, and might have told 
us many stories of love and murder. Eugene Sue would 
find amongst these many figures, and in their history of 
happiness and sorrow, material for a novel in a hundred 
volumes, and the f Mysteries of the Cigar-manufactory of 
Seville ' might take a worthy place by the side of those 
of Paris. 



SEVILLE EXCHANGE. 205 

The preparation of snuff is left to the men and the 
mules ; the tobacco is cut, pressed and seasoned, and pro- 
duces an atmosphere which tickles the nerves of the nose. 
In the ground-floor rooms of this manufactory is prepared 
the titbit of the nose gourmands, the strong delicious 
Seville rappee, which, in gold boxes ornamented with 
diamonds, gives to our diplomatists their unmatched 
f countenance,' to our doctors and savants their wisdom, 
and is accepted by all as the first symbol of agreement 
in important transactions. 

From this giant-building, worthy to be a king's palace, 
we proceeded to the interior of the city to the Exchange, 
situated in the neighbourhood of the cathedral ; a note- 
worthy building of Herrara, the architect of the Escurial, 
the eighth wonder of the world. Ascending a fine stair- 
case, one comes to the marble-floored halls in which the 
celebrated documents of the old India Company are pre- 
served ; amongst these are kept in a particular room, 
letters from Cortez to the king, which are remarkable 
from the man who wrote them. We were also shown the 
stamp of Pizarro, which, not understanding how to write, 
he used as a signature ; as it is interesting I give it here. 
Besides these, the last will of the pilot who 
made the great voyage of discovery with 
Columbus was shown ; all monuments of 
better times of poor Spain. How famous a 
piece of paper made from rags can become, 
and a matter of pride for a whole people, so as to belong 
to its richest trophies, if a man, whose name is written 
down in history, or who has been a witness of some great 
event, has laid his hand upon it ! With such opportunities 
one regrets that theft is a crime. The walls of this room 
are ornamented by the portraits of the last sovereigns, 
amongst them those of Ferdinand VII. and his daughter 
Isabella. 




206 RECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

The innocent Isabella is certainly one of those with 
whom fate has dealt most singularly. A plaything of the 
most terrible passions, she was suffered to grow up without 
principles, to form principles for herself; she was endowed 
with various talents, and has had the good luck to win the 
love of her subjects by her great kindness of heart and 
captivating manners. 

In the beautiful Lonja, which, by its solid rich con- 
struction, shows us what Spain was when the gold of the 
colonies flowed into her lap, is a boldly winding staircase 
of stone without support, a masterpiece of the same 
Herrara. The terrible Alva, the blood-reeking spectre of 
modern time, and his all-ensnaring fiery Inquisition, are 
gone ; but the high, large, splendid orange trees with their 
fragrant shade, under which Philip walked about brooding 
destruction, are still standing, and have stood there these 
three hundred years, enjoying in the garden of the duke 
their green existence. These trees are not those roundl} 7 - 
cut plants of the Italian gardens, or of our orangeries ; 
they are splendid trees, full of leaves, with long slender 
branches, affording shade, fragrance and fruit. I have 
already said, and am also assured by the Duke of Mont- 
pensier, that Alva's king, the pale, serious, bloody Philip, 
though descending from the Bourbons, is respected 
amongst the people, for he was a man and a Spaniard. 
However much we may hate Alva, we must admire his 
orange trees, and acknowledge that the duke had sur- 
rounded his Moorish house in an excellent manner. 

We admired another building of that kind, which 
belongs to a rich banker, in which is one of those high 
lofty halls, painted for us by Arabian fancy, with an 
entrance from a fresh fragrant garden ; to the right and 
left are cosy side-halls, to which we are introduced as in a 
fairy-tale through fine light arches ; the whole is wrapped 
in that lace-veil of delicate stucco-slabs, and takes one by 



THE ACADEMY OF SEVILLE. 207 

surprise, the more so as it is found in the unpretending house 
of a private person. Can one avoid feeling enthusiasm for 
this Spanish-oriental romance ? is it to be wondered at 
that the fanciful tales of the South spring forth from this 
flowery reality? In the works of the Egyptians, earnest- 
ness is the principal feature ; in that of the Greeks, one ad- 
mires humanity immortalised in pure marble ; the Romans 
show us that unflinching manliness which afterwards 
degenerated into imperial insolence ; in the Grothic monu- 
ments we find deep devotion, but in the poetical architec- 
ture of the Moors, as in the silvery moonlight, we enjoy 
the rich sensuous fancy of the south. 

In a large building, which I believe was formerly a 
monastery, is the Academy of Seville, and in it is a treasure 
of exquisite Murillos, not sufficiently appreciated. They 
originally ornamented the large walls of a hall, perhaps 
the former refectory, but many have not even frames. 
Murillo is a child of impulse, whose brush is guided by 
enthusiasm, but whose impulses are succeeded by lassitude 
and weakness. A man may raise himself by his immortal 
spirit to the clouds ; but it is not every one who succeeds 
in keeping himself there ; he falls back on the earth, to rise 
again after collecting fresh strength. So it is with Murillo : 
his pictures sometimes glow with a celestial fire, and 
as frequently they are only illuminated by the light 
terrestrial ; but his happy moments are enchanting, and 
at such times he stamps upon his works, which show the 
very life of the people, a soul that marks him as a great 
artist, and secures him a place by the side of the most 
exalted. 

Murillo has painted pictures which touch one by their 
ingenuous grace, and I found here another, amongst so 
many of his, by which I have been enraptured. It is a 
Virgin, who places her child in the arms of the saintly 
Felix as a reward for his holy labours. Words cannot 



208 RECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

tell how this virgin, half floating, half inclined forward, 
comes down from the clouds, like a fragrant flower ; 
how sweet and lovely is her bearing, how gentle her 
peaceable, friendly look, and yet after all she is only a 
wonderfully hearty girl, a pure angel of light, but not the 
mother of (rod, not immortal, as the Sistine Madonna of 
Raphael : this sweet daughter of the clouds of Murillo 
could not have given birth to the Saviour of the world. 

Whoever admires Murillo, and has in general a feeling 
for art, must read Hahn-Hahn's ' Travelling Sketches in 
Spain ; ' though I do not love Murillo so much as the 
Countess Ida, I nevertheless confess that few describe as 
she does ; that to few only are given that warm, rich 
poetical conception, and richness of language. Whoever 
knows Spain will enjoy this work of the countess, who 
strews her fine ideas with a graceful nonchalance, like 
pearls on a velvet carpet. 

I intended to remain in Seville incognito, but the Duke 
of Montpensier found me out, and sent his chamberlain 
to me ; so, though I had purposely left my uniform on 
board ship, I had, nolens volens, to pay a visit to the 
Palace of St. Telmo, which afterwards I did not regret ; for 
it made me acquainted with new wonders in Seville. A 
rich equipage with a scarlet box and laced servants, drove 
up before our hotel, to fetch me ; it was the prince's 
magnificent city carriage ; we stepped in, and it brought 
us to the splendid Palace of St. Telmo. The guard was 
called out ; between iron railings, tipped with golden 
lilies, we entered through a richly carved door into the 
interior. A chamberlain led me to the fine, wide, double 
staircase, at the foot of which stood a soldier with his 
halberd, who announced our arrival by striking it on the 
marble ground. The walls were ornamented with a select 
collection of pictures. At the upper end I was met by a tall, 
fair young man in a black dress-coat with the order of the 



THE PALACE OF ST. TELMO. 209 

Golden Fleece round bis neck, and the blue riband of a 
Spanish grand-cross ; it was the Duke of Montpensier who 
thus received me in his fairy palace, newly arranged ; and 
who led rne through two saloons luxuriously furnished, into 
a third room all gold and colours, in which was a lady of 
princely appearance, with those Spanish eyes which promise 
so much ; dark and deep as eternity, with antique, regular 
features, and that Andalusian transparent complexion, 
shining like ivory. She had a pale rose mounted in her 
brilliant black hair. This was the beautiful duchess, only 
nineteen years old, Christina's secojad daughter, and a 
picture of Spanish loveliness. 

A little daughter, the miniature picture of her French 
grandmother, stood at her mother's side. When after a 
short conversation I took leave, the duke took me back 
into his first saloon, which is ornamented with large family 
pictures, and also contains some curiosities collected by 
him ; amongst them, some splendid oriental presents, which 
the prince had received on his voyage in the East, and a 
lute of the royal Isabella of Castile, the devout consort of 
Ferdinand the Catholic. 

I was invited by the duke to dinner : he received me in 
his fine library on the ground floor, where amongst other por- 
traits I noticed that of Philip III., the founder of St. Telmo, 
formerly a naval academy ; and also that of the ex-king of 
the French. Montpensier then led me into his chapel 
replete with gold ornaments, and thence into his park, laid 
out by himself. This is indeed a fairy spot, created within 
two years by industry and taste. By the side of old 
luxuriant orange trees, forming a dark, shady grove, 
stretched out thanks to the rich soil arbours of vine- 
yard, rich in fruit. Amidst this deep green is a newly- 
designed pond, with a lovely island containing the plants 
of all the continents in the world, and a fine Moorish 
kiosk : on the water are a small boat and a couple of 

YOL. i. p 



210 RECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

swans. There are also aviaries with parrots, and fine 
American fancy birds, with which the mild climate of 
Seville agrees. There is also a little farm with a breed of 
Swiss cows new to me, and which have the pleasant defect 
of being without horns. On that historical spot where 
the Inquisition once erected its pyres stands an artificial 
hill with a hermitage. Even now there are on a mound 
of earth, bricks bearing the mark of the dreadful tribunal, 
where, scarcely fifty years ago, a so-called ( beata ' was 
burned because she had been visited by visions. 

Thus times change ; on the same place where half a 
century ago the unfortunate victims of a bloody fanaticism 
met death amidst flames, surrounded by thousands of 
scared spectators, rises now a green hill, which the visitor, 
ascending to have a wider view, is shown as a curious 
garden ornament. This hill contains the remains of the 
dreaded pyre, and now the daughter of a Spanish king 
uses the site of the auto-da-fe for her charmirTg park. 
The greatest attractions of this place are the luxuriant 
tropical plants, which here grow splendidly. Here we 
see the much-used bamboo, by the side of the poetical 
palm, and wonderful tropical blossoms of all countries. 

We found the duchess, who had lately given birth to a 
second daughter, with her children in the garden. The 
climate of Seville is so mild that the women may enjoy a 
walk as early as the ninth day ; just as the handsome 
duchess did (who on this occasion wore a yellow dress and 
glowing red flowers which became her exceedingly well), 
with uncovered head. As the mild evening came, the sun 
departed, and the sky acquired that clearness only to be 
found in southern regions. The tops of the palms appeared 
in more marked outlines in the silvery twilight ; the 
frgrance of the flowers became stronger, a gentle breeze 
arose from the Gruadalquiver, and nature did her part in 
seasoning the approaching meal with poetry. 






SPANISH DANCING GIRLS. 211 

Passing a richly-ornamented terrace, we came into a 
saloon containing marble columns and jets of water, and 
filled with pictures ; and thence into the brightly lighted 
dining-room, in which was a magnificently dressed table 
loaded with silver and flowers. On one of the walls was an 
excellently painted portrait, by a Parisian artist, of the 
duchess in an Andalusian dress, and from the open terraces 
the pleasant Spanish melodies of a military band mingled 
with the freshness of the evening and charmed our de- 
lighted ear, whilst our palate was flattered by a well -pre- 
pared French dinner. All these things combined, made me 
remember the evening in the fairy palace of St. Telmo. 

As in travelling, things are incessantly changing and in 
this way always producing new pictures, so at our hotel a 
new and interesting spectacle awaited us, to which my dear 
friend, the amiable commander of our frigate, just came 
in time. We had ordered dancers to present to us the cele- 
brated national dances. Slim girls with sparkling eyes and 
well-built men entered with Spanish grace the not very 
brilliantly illuminated comedor, the hall used for the table 
d'hote, on the white walls of which numerous copies of 
Murillos were hanging, to be offered to the unfortunate 
English as originals. Like a voluptuous sultan I took my 
seat on a sofa, to smoke cigarettes whilst enjoying the 
seducing spectacle, a pleasure which at the commencement 
was also enjoyed, by my permission, by the Eussian consul 
and his two stiff virginal sisters, but who escaped later, 
frightened by the somewhat uncertain movements of a 
pretty dancer of seventeen. The guitar sounded, the 
castanets were set in motion by the pretty hands, and in 
an old rich Spanish costume they commenced the dance. 

He who has not seen the bull-fight and these dances 

o 

does not know Spain. If the man show courage, 
strength, and agility in the bull-fight, so does the woman 
unfold in these enrapturing dances the natural grace and 

P 2 



212 RECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

dignity of the glowing daughters of Andalusia. The 
feet are the weakest part of these dancers, but the upper part 
of the body is the more supple, and the bending, yielding 
and throwing back of the body is at the same time in- 
sinuatingly graceful and perfectly dignified, and lovingly 
commanding; especially pretty is the sudden approach 
of the dancing couple, the piercing look of love followed by 
the quickly bent head, and that again by a playful receding. 
The head moves gracefully on the slender neck, the black 
eyes sparkle with love, the regular features are serious and 
yet charming. The arms also move with grace, and the 
well-shaped hand beats time to the rattling castanets. To 
hear this little instrument vehemently set in motion by a 
whole company, seizes one electrically with the national 
feeling. A chorus song was given by two of the dancers 
To call this melody would be an exaggerated enthusiasm, 
for though the sounds come from the lips of Andalusian 
girls, they are nevertheless a barbarous snuffling, which, 
as I had later an opportunity of noticing, comes from the 
Arabian blood. 

As the bull-fighter has, on his light-coloured silk jackets, 
gold and silver ornaments, so also these male and female 
dancers have on their bodices, which are ornamented 
with rich braids. Usually the bodice has a colour differ- 
ing from that of the petticoat, over which picturesque lace 
sometimes falls. On their heads the girls have, besides 
ribbons, flowers and pins in their hair, which is further 
ornamented by a comb obliquely passed through the hair. 
The whole dress is picturesque, rich and romantic. 

Amongst the dancers, one dark girl, seventeen years old, 
knew how to attract our attention by her prettiness, her 
suppleness, and by her droll manner; and she was only 
rivalled by a tall, by no means pretty, but really clever and 
skilful dancer, Dona Inez, the daughter of the sexton of 
the Griralda. If the little one, although conscious of her 



SPANISH DANCES. 213 

prettiness, was nature itself, so Dona Inez was the actress, 
the coquette produced by art, coandent of victory. Our 
doctor commenced courting her in the most amusing 
manner, as he, without being able to speak one word of 
Spanish, commenced a Spanish conversation with her, at 
which Inez gave herself the airs of a grands dame. The 
daughters of Thalia were urged to smoke cigarettes, which 
they did after a little struggle. Inez had scarcely given a 
few puffs when she gave the cigar to a gentleman, who 
after the Spanish custom had to finish it, as it is considered 
to be a great compliment to receive from a lady the cigar 
which she has tasted. So also it is with a glass of sherry. 
The order of the dances, which are executed by one, 
two, or more couples, is : first, Sevillaise ; secondly, Fal- 
lera de Xeres; thirdly, Bolero and Cachucha; fourthly, 
Baile de Banderete ; fifthly, Bolero ; sixthly, Mijares, a 
dance with many springs, accompanied with a horrible 
song ; seventhly, Seville, also a very lively dance with a very 
stirring song ; eighthly, Ole ; ninthly, Bolero ; tenthly, Jota. 
When the music for the eleventh dance commenced, I was 
quite surprised by hearing homely words, and still more 
so by seeing Inez dance an affected * Landler ; ' we felt 
quite flattered that the eleventh dance and song were 
German. 

Seville, September 16, 1851. 

To-day we had to pass the Gruadalquiver over an old 
ship bridge (for the fine iron bridge which is supported on 
stone pillars is not yet finished ), to visit the Triana, which 
is the most remarkable part of the city of Seville. The 
very name of Triana conjures up visions of night, death, 
or sin. At one moment these spectres appear as horrible 
murderers destroying for vengeance or for money ; now as 
dark gipsy girls, who with glowing eyes, and busy castanets, 
bring about a slow death by some seductive poisons. It is 
said that in the Triana that charming being was born who 



214 EECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

excited her victims to madness, who afterwards left the 
stage to rule an empire, and who shows as a trophy of 
short rule a royal symbol in her coat-of-arms. 

We drove along a filthy and ruinous street. Before 
miserable houses with low doors brown gipsies were sitting, 
and little children were crawling about like vermin. But it 
was morning, therefore the Triana did not show itself 
in its black characteristics ; and I believe that all is not 
so bad there as romantic minds picture to themselves ; 
and that modern ideas have worked a change even here. 
Under a glowing heat we drove thence to a secularised 
Cartuja on the same side of the shore as the Triana, which 
is used as a china manufactory by an Englishman. In 
the middle of a wild and disorderly garden, stands, near a 
puddle of a pond, a little temple, in which the delicate 
poetical bas-reliefs of the Moors are miserably imitated 
by awkward house-painters' bungling. A copy cheaply 
produced, is a clumsy imitation, and is always like a 
trivial parody, changing poetical ideas into would-be witty 
puerilities. 

In the Cartuja we were entertained by nothing so much 
as by the absurd rage of a dignified turkey-cock, who 
took the jokes in which we saucy intruders indulged at 
his expense very ill, and strutted about like an indignant 
courtier in his bedizened court livery. Perhaps the poor 
bird was some enchanted prince, or a grandee of the proud 
court of Madrid, who, as a penance for former arrogance, 
had to go through this course of purgatory. 

The arsenal, the foundry, and the manufactory of gun- 
caps outside the city are institutions which, by their ar- 
rangement and order, certainly exhibit the satisfactory 
progress of Spain. Here, as in Naples, the means of death 
are manufactured in the midst of gardens and flowers. 
The dangerous fulminating powder, required for the caps, 
is prepared in various stages in storehouses, surrounded 



THE HOCK OF GIBRALTAR. 219 

ness of evening came on, a dense fog enveloped the ship, 
the water became of the colour of the clouds, and our fri- 
gate appeared to be floating like an isolated body high in 
the air. Now and then there was an uneasy movement, 
glowing phosphorescent sparks shot along the sleeping 
flood, no breath stirred, all was seen through an uncertain 
light; it was a dismal sort of haunted feeling which 
possessed us, and the flying Dutchman would not now have 
been out of his place. Perhaps the sea-god was celebra- 
ting his nuptial night. I had never experienced anything 
like it. The phosphorescence, more particularly, seems 
peculiar to the Straits of Gibraltar, where we now are, 
sometimes producing a magical effect, more especially 
when the oars are moved. 

September 20, 1851. 

In the morning we came in view of the great monster 
rock which arises majestically from the ocean and the 
Mediterranean, offering from either point a different pic- 
ture. Gibraltar has the somewhat awfully pleasant power 
which attracts from its dominating greatness. So every- 
thing, which rises above the ordinary standard of nature 
and of daily life, captivates weak humanity, and attracts 
like the awful whirlpool with a magnetic power. In the 
manner in which it hangs over consist the beauty and 
the charm of this naked, bare, sun-baked, giant rock. 
By picturing to yourself a rocky mountain ridge cut in 
the middle one may get an idea of Gibraltar. The side cut 
perpendicular to the top, and forming an immense, inac- 
cessible stone wall, stands as a gigantic support or defen- 
sive wall towards the great port of the world, the Medi- 
terranean, having at its base scarcely room for a couple of 
small houses inhabited by Genoese. The steeply sloping 
outside wall of the ridge, half grown over with dwarf palms 
and forming up to the crest-line an oblique plain, faces 



220 RECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

towards the land's end of Spain, separating the great ocean 
from the wide open bay of Gibraltar. Cutting off the 
ridge at both ends, one gets on one side the vertical rock 
wall towards the ' neutral ground,' and therefore towards 
Spain; this is the only part of the rock not washed by 
the sea, but which instead is bounded by a plain of sand 
similar to the surface of the sea. Thus the rock rises with 
a marvellous freedom like an island. 

There are several heights on the crest of the rock, and 
on one of the most elevated of them stands the telegraph 
tower. Between the above-mentioned sand plain, across 
which the Englishmen hold their inevitable course, and 
the city of Gibraltar, is a narrow road of communication 
defended by walls and water-ditches, which at the same 
time leads to the small but crowded mercantile harbour, to 
which flock ships from all parts of the world after their 
distant expeditions. Gibraltar is one of those great world- 
trade stations, which, like the Cape of Grood Hope, has 
been appropriated by Great Britain, to hold the trade of 
the world by the monopoly of arms. How glorious for Eng- 
land's proud sons, to find in all their voyages, at every 
turning-point of their wide sea-roads, a bomb-proof hotel ! 
They can everywhere find their countrymen, and every- 
where can sing under the blessed shade of their banner, 
' Eule Britannia.' 

From the Punta de Europa towards the town the new city 
for the soldiers extends, surrounded by blooming gardens ; 
certaioly the most cultivated part of the rock, where offi- 
cers and employes live in English comfort amidst masses 
of geranium, mixed with rich-coloured southern flowers, 
dense trees with picturesque rocks, aloes and various 
bushes, the whole intersected by the most excellent 
roads. Between this part and the old is the drill 
ground, by the venerable Moorish tower-crowned town, 
and between murderous batteries. 



GIBRALTAR. 221 

But let us return to our ship. We were sitting be- 
calmed opposite the big giant, and were annoyed at the 
splendid but phlegmatic weather, the greatest enemy of 
the sailor. The boats were lowered, and we moved slowly 
towards the anchorage, which we reached about noon. One 
of the staff of the governor, clad in the fantastic little 
uniform of the English general staff, took us by surprise 
with a letter containing the most polite invitation from his 
commander. We declined, however, for to-day, in order to 
be able to roam leisurely through the city. Through gates 
and over ditches we entered the most unassailable fortress 
of the world, which could only have been acquired by the 
English by treason. Through a large square, outside the 
barrack, one enters the only great principal street of 
Gibraltar, which in an irregular course runs through the 
whole city. There are shops, elegant and inelegant, the 
exchange, the Catholic and the English church, the latter 
with Moorish horse-shoe arches without any ornaments, 
bare and clumsy, more fit for a stable than for the exterior 
of a church, and the government mansion, a former Fran- 
ciscan convent. 

In this street may be seen two distinct phases of culti- 
vation : the so-called barbarism, and that which we choose to 
call civilisation ; we see the dress of all stations in life, of all 
countries and religions, especially of the English. Looking 
around we see the gigantic red-haired red coat, or the 
blue constable, usually in a spencer or a little white coat, 
with a little stick in his hand, without arms, and that 
little saucepan-like cap, which, being without a visor, does 
but little to protect his blue eyes against Spain's African 
sun. They solemnly walk about as if on stilts, and in 
doing so preserve the same pace, the same stiffness as on 
the drill gound, but Spain's swarthy children are also to be 
found in Gibraltar, and form even a chief item in this 
human pot-pourri. Here again are the Andalusians with 



222 RECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

their little, round, velvet hats and embroidered jackets, 
and the female Andalusians with their mantillas and bril- 
liant eyes. But the latter are not the genuine inhabitants 
of Gibraltar : these wear long, heavy cloaks of red cloth 
with black velvet seams, and a cape drawn over their 
heads, and look unpicturesque and witchlike. So also the 
long, thin young ladies, and the stout soldiers' women can- 
not justly be called picturesque. Much more picturesque 
are the so-called barbarians, the men of Tangier and Fez, 
in their wide golden garments of rich colours, with the 
large turban, and the overshadowing bernous, which give 
to their majestic, earnest figures a poetical charm, increased 
by the pure white cape which surrounds, vapour-like, head 
and turban. 

In contrast to the serious, proud Moor, whose bearing is 
that of a victorious caliph, is the African Jew with his dark- 
blue caftan, and his small, black hood; supple and smart here 
as everywhere, with the same repellent features, the watch- 
ful questioning eyes, inviting the bashful Christian with 
an uncomfortably sweet smile to trade ; with the same bent, 
supple spine, which bends to the heavy sack until it is 
filled, which he then pantingly, but hoarse with laughter, 
carries home. 

Two shops strike the eye of the stranger : Mr. Speed's 
warehouse of English goods, intended for the outfit 
of sailors, and a shop kept by a fine, lively, honest 
negro, in which the most splendid objects from the neigh- 
bouring continent may be had at a fair price. 

One would be extremely mistaken in imagining that Gibr- 
altar had the characteristics of a great city; the houses are 
clean, but small and mean-looking, everything is on a neat, 
comfortable, small-town scale. It is a garrison town, from 
which the practical, sober English spirit has driven out 
Spanish-Moorish romance. It is the life of the red-coats 
on the hot southern soil. As to trade, Gibraltar, though a 



GIBRALTAR. 223 

secure harbour, is only a place through which one passes 
without remaining. 

The roomy drill-ground between the park and the town is 
ornamented by some splendid trees, which justly bear their 
Spanish name, sombra. The park offers some fine views, 
but is at the present time of the year very much dried up. 
Two monuments are erected in it. The one a statue of 
Wellington, standing, and a most humorously executed 
statue of brave Elliot, the stubborn defender of Gibraltar. 
With an immense old-fashioned hat on his large head, the 
hair of which ended in a pigtail, with legs like a broomstick, 
the gilt keys of the fortress in his right hand, the old hero 
seems to promenade in the shrubbery of the park like a 
ghost of his former self. In all matters of art the 
English are far behindhand : with them, comfort and the 
practical are the principal things aimed at; art is not un- 
derstood by them ; it is just the opposite with the Italians, 
who are so enthusiastic ' per le belle arti,' that they, for 
art's sake, freeze like tailors in their giant palaces under 
fresco-painted ceilings ; Germans and French alone succeed 
in uniting the two. 

The day was warm, and we rested in a tent, looking out 
for Gibraltar's greatest curiosity, for which every one in- 
quires. Everybody looks out for what so few visitors have 
seen, and what in Europe, Gibraltar alone possesses: I 
mean the four-handed monkeys in a wild state, Gibraltar's 
pride and greatest wonder. It is the only place in Europe 
where these animals can live, and that too in very con- 
siderable numbers ; they feed on the fruit of the dwarf 
palm. If the wind be blowing from the Mediterranean, 
it drives them towards the lowest sea-batteries, otherwise 
they are rarely seen, and a dead monkey has never yet 
been found. Where do these animals come from, if we 
cannot believe the tradition that St. Michael's cave leads 
to a submarine connection with Africa and the monkeys' 



224 RECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

hill of Ceuta, and that the four-handed regiment marched 
in through these caves ? The killing of one of these 
animals is prohibited by a heavy fine, and so also is the 
slaughter of rabbits, which may some day be useful as 
food in case of a prolonged siege. We did not succeed in 
seeing a monkey, and returned disappointed to our ship. 

Sunset in Gibraltar is generally a splendid spectacle ; 
the southern glow deepens most beautifully the various 
colours of the finely shaped rocks, while the picturesque 
mountains of Spain, projecting over the ocean and clad in 
deep blue, are distinctly marked on the golden, sunny 
background. The southern evening then quickly comes 
on, then one light after another appears from the foot of 
the hill up to the top of the rock, and the brilliant starry 
firmament overspreads the black giant, which, seen from 
the sea, leaves a vivid impression. 

Gibraltar, September 21, 1851. 

After mass on board we paid a visit to the convent. 
Passing up a neat wooden staircase decorated with arms, 
and by a window painted with escutcheons, we came to the 
cloister-walk, containing, not the portraits of pious abbots, 
but of those brave red-coats with hair powder and pigtails 
who took part in the celebrated siege of the invincible 
rock. This cross walk encloses a friendly yard surrounded 
by fine, many-branched pepper trees, like weeping willows ; 
in the middle a large fountain, in the stone basin of which 
turtle doves live. Here we were met by a thin man in a 
black dress coat and white gouty slippers, who shook hands 
with me ; it was Sir Eobert Gardiner, the governor of 
Gibraltar, whom later I learned so much to appreciate and 
love. He led me into a large, clean, simple room, which, 
like all other rooms of the convent, was painted with a cafe 
au lait colour, and made a comfortable impression, which 
was further heightened by exterior passages provided with 



ALGESIEAS. 225 

Venetian blinds. From the saloon one looks upon a rich 
garden facing south, commanding a view of the beautiful 
bay. One loses the consciousness of being in a fortress, and 
rather fancies oneself with a rich planter, than with a 
governor in old Europe. Sir Robert commenced the con- 
versation in English, like all Englishmen, proud in self- 
consciousness, but I insisted upon commencing in French as 
the language of communication. After having declined 
all invitations to-day on account of a bull-fight in Alge- 
siras, we returned on board the frigate. In the afternoon 
a boat carried us in an hour to the little town Algesiras, on 
the opposite shore of the bay. 

It may be imagined with what interest I went to this 
national festivity. I passed the intermediate time on the 
Alameda of Algesiras, for, however small a Spanish city 
may be, an alameda is to be found there. Wide gravel- 
walks lead through shrubberies of southern plants, and 
from the shady seats one enjoys a fine wide view of 
proud Gibraltar, haughtily overlooking Spain, and of the 
opposite coast of Africa with its blue mountains, its 
monkey's hill, and its neglected Ceuta, the impotent ant- 
agonist of the mighty European column. 

The town of Algesiras is small, and has rather irregular 
and dirty streets, but the houses are neat and clean, as is 
the case throughout Spain; and from behind the reed-mats, 
which exclude the heat, and which are substitutes for our 
wooden blinds, and the far-projecting, almost cage-like, 
green-painted window-lattices, frequently but very little 
raised from the ground, glow, in the half-darkness, the 
black eyes of the roguish female inmates, giving the 
stranger an idea how pleasant a tete-a-tete would be, about 
the time of twilight, through these narrow, coquetry- 
favouring chinks, where the girl who is courted is secure in 
her sort of fortress, and protected against any too passionate 
outbreak of her admirer. In a mean-looking house, with 

VOL. i. Q 



226 RECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

two sentinels before it, in a principal street leading to the 
Alameda, lives the c Comandante-general del Campo de 
Gibraltar,' one of the best-paid and highest positions of 
the Empire. He is a kind of observer of what is going on 
opposite, and commander of a camp existing only in fancy, 
but once formed against those former enemies who took 
Gibraltar. This camp is intended to perpetuate the regret 
for the loss of the splendid fortress, which the Spaniards 
still natter themselves that they will get back. Now they 
have only to prevent smuggling, which they do unsuccess- 
fully ; but the general collects enormous custom-dues from 
the communication between Gibraltar and Spain, as one 
has to pay one colonat, every time one comes or goes, 
with loaded or unloaded mule, which is not quite agreeable 
to the English. 

The commander enjoys the most splendid hunting of wild 
boars and deer in the Sierra Nevada. This general-in- 
chief, of the name of Calogni, an educated, agreeable man 
of about forty, who had served with distinction in the late 
wars, had been informed of our arrival incognito, and 
hunted us up on the Alameda, in full dress, covered with 
decorations, and surrounded by his general staff. To us, 
sitting comfortably on a seat in dolce far niente, this sur- 
prise was not the most pleasant, but Calogni understood 
how to make amends by his amiability. He led us into a 
building which was formerly a church, but changed by the 
circumstances of the time into a barrack, where the men, 
like all the soldiers in Spain, looked well and martial, but the 
rooms, on the contrary, were beyond everything unpleasant. 
We were also led to a sea-battery, a sad contrast to the 
great Gibraltar, showing clearly how inexorably history 
raises and destroys, according to its fancies, and how 
nothing can impede its arbitrary and powerful progress. 

The general is a decided enthusiast for corridas, and both 
to his influence and to his money it is partly owing that 



GIBEALTAE. 227 

Algesiras has an arena. He not only invited me to come 
with him into his box, but went even so far in his politeness 
as to urge me to direct the fight in person, by means of 
a white handkerchief which he put into my hand. Though 
this embarrassed me much at first, I must confess that 
I was proud to take a leading part in such a national sport. 
Unfortunately the fight did not respond to the enthu- 
siasm of the leader, the performers were all novices, 
without strength and courage. The fighters were cowardly 
dilettanti, not even dressed in the old costumes, and not 
more than two horses fell whilst we were there. The arena 
built of wood was not filled, and when at last a man ap- 
peared upon stilts to destroy the poor calf, I felt too much, 
as a genuine admirer of this truly noble fight, to be desirous 
of any longer looking on at this butchery. I forsook my 
office of director, and turned my back on this shameful 
exhibition with a deep-felt regret that my remembrance 
of Seville had been tarnished by it. 

Gibraltar, Sept. 22, 1851. 

This day was devoted to examining the inmost terrors 
of Gibraltar, and its astonishing cave buildings. At the 
water-gate, through which officers only are allowed to 
enter, the son of the governor waited for us, as 'well as 
a few other officers. We mounted horses, and proceeded 
through the town between neat gardens cultivated by 
non-commissioned officers, passing the old venerable 
Moorish tower, over a considerable height, to the first 
rock-gallery looking upon the neutral ground. My 
astonishment was great when I found we need not dis- 
mount, and that the rough rock of Calpe could receive 
horse and men. A bold breach in the rock made by iron 
and gunpowder forms a broad, high cave-passage, without 
rise or fall. 

On one side are loopholes, through which the light of 

Q 2 



223 RECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

the day shines in mysterious, yellow tints on the rough 
walls, leaving the road which had the firmness of rock, and 
the stillness of death in half darkness, from which one, 
as if standing on a superior world, looks down on the 
little earth, on the sands of the neutral ground, and on 
the lazily-moving sea. One has a feeling of pride in 
looking through the rock eyes of this petrified Titan, as 
from a secure, immense height, on the ant-like, diminutive 
doings of the earth. In these rough, unadorned caves 
stand, like solemn monks in a cloister of rock, apart and 
silent, the awful guns of Gibraltar : now they are silent as 
in deep meditation, but when they commence their wide- 
reaching chorus, the world trembles before the impressive 
psalms of chastisement of these rough monks ; then the 
rock smokes and roars like a volcano, and pours its 
deathly lava from the dizzy height on to the head of the 
daring enemy. What a spectacle must it be when the 
white smoke issues in slow circles from the cavities of the 
V)fty rock, surrounding in cloud the forked lightning, and 
thunder shakes the air, roaring in hundredfold echo 
the trembling waves of the two seas, proclaiming to 
ooth continents the revengeful wrath of England ! when 
the heavy missiles coming from the bowels of the rock, 
hiss shrilly with a cry as of ghostly owls, without any 
antagonist of flesh and blood being seen, still less any 
hostile movement ! 

But whether, at such a time, life in the interior of the 
rock be pleasant and free from danger, I cannot say. 
Firstly, notwithstanding all air-holes, the smoke must take 
away the view, which is only to be had through small 
loopholes, and even the air which is requisite for breathing 
must be impeded. Secondly, it is doubtful whether, after 
continuous cannonading, the rock could resist the terrible 
concussion produced by the expansion of the air. Let 
us ask how that giant wall is to be defended from 



GIBEALTAE. 229 

the flank? But nature and art have provided for 
that also. Between the two walls, lying respectively 
towards the neutral ground and the Mediterranean sea, 
projects, like a balcony, a rock which, to the height of 
two battery-tiers, is excavated like a hall, and which 
rakes with its terrible guns in all directions, as in the 
most regular fortress. These galleries on the giant bal- 
cony are named St. George and William's Hall, and in the 
former the garrison gave a ball some years ago. It must 
be extremely beautiful to see a thunderstorm from these 
rocky halls, through the loopholes of which one has the 
most comprehensive view of sea and land ; when the white 
waves of the ocean and the Mediterranean dash against 
the immutable rock, when the heavy clouds sink down 
towards the sea, and thunder resounds against the rocky 
walls, the lightnings flashing, and the wind shrilly whistling 
through the crevices. To be alone in these dark stony 
halls in such an uproar, must be awful and refreshing to 
the soul. 

It is strange to observe the great number of falcons 
that fly around the walls of the giant, which as quick as 
lightning issue from the crevices to float motionless in 
the air over the dizzy heights ; one envies them, for 
they alone can play around the rock from all sides, know 
every cave, freely rule in the gigantic space, and discover 
its most remote mysteries. This right, although in a less 
degree, is exerted also by the monkeys and rabbits. We 
ascended to the upper battery, and I made the remark 
that what has been done here bv the hand of man has 

/ 

been surpassed by the celebrated rock galleries on the 
road of the Stilfserjoch on the Italian side ; it is chiefly 
its natural site which makes Gibraltar so extraordinarily 
remarkable. 

We next visited the telegraph-house, standing on a 
narrow edge on the highest point of the rock, and from 



230 RECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

which one, as from the clouds, enjoys with wonder and 
admiration the imposing view all round. In addition to 
a few Englishmen who keep guard here over the world, 
an exceedingly malicious, gigantic monkey, a child of the 
rock, a noble Gribraltese, is also a guard. To my regret I 
did not get a view of his brethren who were at large, 
during my sojourn. 

Our road, now on the narrow dizzy edge, now on the 
side towards the ocean, led us between numberless fan- 
like dwarf palms which cover some parts of Africa and 
Andalusia like grass, and serve the monkeys for food, 
to the St. Michael's cave, whose wide hall exhibits fan- 
tastic stalactite formations, which however are not com- 
parable to those of Adelsberg, and from which a connection 
with the opposite continent is said to exist. An English 
general, O'Brien, went a great way into this mysterious 
cave, and when he either could or would not proceed 
farther, he threw down his sword as a present for him who 
would fetch it, but O'Brien's sword is still where he left 
it. Eiding on good roads along the steep walls of the 
rock, we came to one of the most exposed batteries on the 
steep side towards the Mediterranean, from which one 
sees as from a box the houses of the Genoese village, 

O " 

built on the sand of the coast, standing forlorn between 
the rock-wall and the sea. We passed the governor's 
villa, which is built in the style of an American planter, 
and situated on the rock towards the Punta de Europa, 
and came to the newly-built military house of correction, 
situated 'between batteries. I saw here the first peniten- 
tiary upon the silent system, where the criminal, through 
complete want of occupation, and by a cruel and absolute 
solitude, is rendered either better or mad. 

In small, clean little rooms, with a little window high 
up, a wooden bed, a washstand and a Bible, live these 
involuntary Carthusians all along a passage, from which 



GIBRALTAR. 231 

one can observe them and visit them. If one enters the 
bare cell, the inmate undergoing his wholesale penance 
has to turn his back to the comer, and to remain standing 
immovable. The convicts have a rough but useful dress, 
and close-shorn hair, and as they wear no irons, one is 
more reminded of lunatics. A house of Grod is not 
wanting here, in which the convicts sit in obliquely amphi- 
theatrically arranged wooden boxes, so that all can see the 
preacher and hear his words without being able to exchange 
with each other either looks or words. Service is held here 
on Sunday, which is attended by the director, a field officer, 
with his family. In the week the house of (rod is used as 
a school and the clergyman is the teacher. To give the 
body exercise they have invented a game which blunts the 
feelings. The prisoners gathered in a narrow space must 
lift for several hours each day iron balls, carry them a few 
paces, put them down again, lift them up again, and so, on 
and on. The feeling that the toil is useless, the perpetual 
monotony, the perfectly aimless work, is intended to im- 
prove the mind. I believe this apparent improvement is 
a dulness produced by despair ; the individual is made a 
machine ; a machine does not resist ; but whether this 
brutal thing may be called a better man I do not know ; 
for it is an awful thing to cut off from active life a self- 
dependent being. 

This moving of the balls, by which is to be calculated 
how many thousand and thousand times a man must use- 
lessly stoop in a month for a dead piece of iron, has left 
a painful impression upon me, an idea of the hopeless 
emptiness of the never-to-be filled vessel of the Danaides. 
The poor men look very pale, and do not seem much pene- 
trated by the philanthropy of this new system. If one 
would carry out the much-praised Pennsylvanian system, 
in which the convict is protected against corrupting in- 
fluences, and is brought to repentance by absolute seclusion 



232 RECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

and eternal monotony, one should invent soul-barometers, 
which to the minute and second should indicate when the 
unfortunate is bettered, to restore him to liberty and to 
the world before the soul has sunk into lunacy or mis- 
anthropy. 

A large, fine carriage-road between picturesque rocks and 
charming villas, led us past the park and over the drilling- 
ground, through a gate where a forlorn Imperial eagle 
still bears witness to the former rule over the world of 
the Hapsburgs, to the town and to the convent, where a 
luncheon was waiting for us at the friendly governor's. 
Unacquainted with the English custom, which requires a 
guest to ask for everything and help himself, we had to 
suffer the pangs of Tantalus, to enjoy from afar the fumes 
of the joints, and to be satisfied with small insignificant 
bits. When we were asked what we should like, we an- 
swered evasively, and the practical English must have 
taken us for members of the Temperance Society. 

In the evening, in honour of us foreigners, a brilliant 
gala dinner was given in the great hall, the former church 
of the convent. All the best society of Gibraltar filled the 
saloons of the governor. The strains of our national hymn 
greeted us with the most friendly welcome and impressed 
us with a feeling of festivities at home. The aged governor, 
in the full uniform of a general of artillery, covered with 
the finest military decorations, received us as a friend. 
After the usual presentations, in which Old England 
always behaves a little awkwardly, every one gave his arm 
to his lady, and to the strains of music we entered the 
brilliantly-lit, large hall, which was appropriately adorned 
with the colours, covered with victories, of the regiments 
stationed at Gibraltar. 

The immense table was filled. I found my place was 
between the amiable governor and his friendly lady ; and 
now we again noticed an English custom, for at Sir Robert's 



GIBRALTAK. 233 

they still dine after the old fashion. The aides-de-camp 
at the end of the table carve, and handle the big joints, 
nay, often whole animals, with dignity and seriousness ; 
every one has also his bottle of sherry and his decanter of 
water before him. In all these things I was a novice, and 
felt exceedingly happy to be able to witness the official 
habits of Old England. We had scarcely sat down when 
the company rose again. I, in the first surprise, remained 
sitting, for I thought the English rage for toasts had 
commenced before the stomach had been strengthened ; 
but the governor murmured a few words towards a person 
sitting far off, on which the archdeacon said grace. I rose 
quickly, delighted at this fine old custom, which opens and 
consecrates the meal with a thought of God, and which 
has been unfortunately abolished altogether in our Catholic 
lands, as fashion, the only religion of the educated classes, 
prevents one showing to one's neighbour that one thinks 
sometimes of the great God. Strange also to us foreigners, 
but very friendly, is the custom of the English of drinking 
to each other ; you seek anxiously between the crowd of 
flowers and table ornaments him whom you wish to dis- 
tinguish, which indeed is your desire in respect to almost 
all of them. If you are too far for a glance you call 
attention by a servant, pour a little sherry into your 
glass, which is imitated by the person honoured, stare 
stiffly at him, bow the head forward without moving 
the mouth, and sip or drink, and then this ceremony, 
which reminds one by its phlegm of the Chinese pagoda, 
is finished. 

When the principal meal with its large joints is discussed, 
all the plate and even the glasses are taken away, the 
covering napkins are rolled off, and fresh glasses are 
placed on the great table-cloth with little bowls containing 
fresh water, to cleanse the mouth and hands, whilst those 
persons sitting in the middle of the table are provided 



234 KECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

with large bottles of the principal wines. Some trifles 
were discussed, and the bottles commenced making their 
rounds : the master of the house calls out, e Gentlemen, will 
you charge your glasses ?' each supplies himself with port, 
sherry, or claret of different qualities, according to his 
taste, and the era of the toasts commences. 

The worthy old gentleman rose and gave a toast to our 
much-beloved monarch, and, to our pleasant astonishment, 
in the Grerman language. If the grammar was not 
always correct it went to our hearts, for it was our mother- 
tongue. Except the master of the house, according to 
the English custom, nobody else rose, and the applause 
at the close of the toast was only given by knocking the 
hands on the table, the effect of which, en masse, is not so 
very bad ; after this the ' Grott erhalte ' resounded in 
the hall. 

After the toasts, the ladies left the table to await the 
arrival of the gentlemen in the saloon, who still comfort- 
ably gave themselves up to wine and conversation. It 
seems strange when the ladies, at the desire of the gentle- 
men, humbly march away from the table. Many blame this 
habit as barbarous ; I like it. The ladies ought to learn 
that they have to obey the men ; and to what an exagger- 
ated and senseless gallantry shown towards the ladies leads, 
is shown to us by the immorality of France. After ooffee 
we rejoined the ladies, and after a conventional conversa- 
tion, the company separated, and Austria returned on a 
fine night and over a sparkling sea, to the frigate. 

Gibraltar, September 23, 1851. 

To-day we went out into the green country, leaving 
the rock-fortress, and riding on horseback towards the 
cork-wood behind St. Eoque. This party, arranged for us 
by the friendly governor, was quite a success. His son 
and his aides-de-camp accompanied us. During this party 



GIBRALTAR. 235 

we had the pleasure of learning how perfectly hospitable 
and amiable the English are when they wish to be so. The 
sons of Albion are endowed with the gift of making their 
guests comfortable if they really like them, of being cordial 
when it comes from their heart, but they are stiff and cold, 
nay, even wanting in politeness, when they cannot see 
sufficient ground for a pleasant manner, and this un- 
conscious frankness becomes them very well. 

By the low neck of land of the neutral ground, we 
went over the sand of the shore, which reminded me in a 
lively manner of one of the happy evenings of my life in 
the glorious gulf of Lepanto. Between dreary hills, the 
hunting-ground of the fox hunters of the garrison of Gibr- 
altar, our road led us to the cork-wood. It is a large splen- 
did wood, reminding one, by its gigantic, wildly scattered 
trees, and its festoon-like creepers, of the romantic de- 
scriptions of the American virgin- woods. The trees are 
the celebrated and useful cork-oaks, whose soft, light 
bark is a large revenue to the possessor, and gives stoppers 
to our bottles. There is something curious on learning for 
the first time the origin of a thing frequently seen, and to 
which one is accustomed by use. How many corks had I 
seen in my life, and had in my hand, and burned them to 
make moustachios with, and yet I only knew that the cork 
was taken from a tree, but how the tree looked, or what kind 
it was, and where it grew, was all unknown to me ! I 
had not the least idea that it was an oak, and that whole 
woods of it existed in Europe. But one travels to learn, 
and probably one learns something new at each step, and 
that is the unsurpassable pleasure of wandering, which 
compensates for so many privations, and in which the 
mind is enlarged, whilst the heart also has its enjoyment. 
One learns only by seeing, and finds often a pleasure, not 
sufficiently appreciated, in the smallest details. 

The cork, so much in demand, grows on a curious and 



236 RECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

fine species of oak, whose elastic, light, but knotty and 
rough bark is detached from the poor tree, and carried to 
the sea for exportation by mules, of which we met long 
caravans. The tree, however, does not die through this 
rough treatment ; nay, it even reproduces I believe from 
the wounded trunk the much-used material, the obtaining 
of which is perhaps one of the most easy labours. Looking 
at our German oak, it is difficult to believe that it is its 
brother which furnishes in the south the material for 
corking up the delicious product of the vine. The most 
favourable time for seeing these cork-woods, which extend 
for miles, is said to be the spring, as it is for every child of 
nature; then they bloom and sprout most luxuriantly, 
and at the foot of the centenarian oaks the finest flowers 
of the south grow around in great abundance, whilst 
the creepers extend their soft, green fetters from branch 
to branch. But in the Spanish autumn-time also, which 
corresponds to our warm summer, this curious wood is very 
beautiful. 

Where the forest became somewhat lighter we found 
between green hills a small, broken-down convent with a 
large orange tree in the otherwise neglected yard ; and after 
having visited the small church, which according to Spanish 
taste is rich in gilded wooden ornaments, we entered one of 
the bare rooms of the convent, now only inhabited by a 
single priest. Involuntarily I imagined myself in the days 
of Don Quixote, in one of those dwellings, surrounded by 
woods void of man but full of adventures, yet my ad- 
ventures amounted to nothing more than the partaking of 
some of a cold English monster roast joint, and instead 
of blood, my greedy thirst was satiated with the most 
excellent sparkling Moselle, a wonderful kind of wine, 
the acquaintance of which I had formed only in Gibraltar, 
at dear Sir Eobert's, and in which ' the bouquet ' of the 
Moselle imparts a flavour to the too sweet Champagne. 



GIBRALTAR, 237 

This delicious beverage is obtained by growing grapes of 
the Champagne on the banks of the Moselle. 

After having refreshed ourselves, we commenced our 
return home, but we forsook the regular road, took another 
direction, and came through some romantic valleys and 

over picturesque hills, past a herd, when W , in the 

midst of loud disapprobation from the herdswomen, in- 
sisted on playing the picador with a young bull, but had 
to leave off without accomplishing his purpose. Then we 
rambled through a wonderfully graceful pine- wood, passed 
through Eonda, a little town lying on an eminence, with its 
inevitable alameda, in which a part of the English pass 
the hot season. We next passed between dense hedges of 
aloes to the shore, and over the neutral ground to Gibr- 
altar. 

In the evening I gave Old England a dinner on the 
frigate, but besides Sir Kobert I had invited the Spanish 
Captain-Greneral Calogni. Eemembering yesterday's toast 
I drank the health of the ' little Queen,' in the English 
language, after which other toasts were exchanged. The 
band played, ' Grod Save the Queen,' the ' Hymna Bor- 
bonica,' and the beautiful e Grott erhalte.' Scarcely was this 
cosmopolitan banquet at an end when all rushed into the 
convent to a brilliant ball which the governor gave to his 
Austrian guests. 

Notwithstanding the excursion of the morning, and other 
exertions during the day, dancing was going on bravely, in 
which, however, the daughters of Albion are far inferior to 
our maids. In waltzing, a Lerchenfelder girl is a queen 
in comparison with these ladies, who move clumsily and 
without grace. The prize of beauty was well-contested 
here, for the apple might be divided between two figures, 
of whom one was an English lady, a calm, clear, perfect 
beauty, with round, almost large figure, regular features, 
and dazzling complexion ; the other, a light, graceful, glow- 



238 RECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

ing Andalusian, with raven hair, and mildly glowing eyes, 
beautiful as a dream of love, graceful as a gazelle. The 
choice was difficult, it was a choice between the calm, fresh 
North on a summer day, and the Spanish moonlight night 
amidst orange-trees interwoven with jasmine. 

Gibraltar, September 24, 1851. 

Sir Eobert, in the rich uniform of a general of artillery, 
mounted a fine, large, black horse to show us some more 
military curiosities. First, we were conducted to the 
barracks of a Scotch regiment, and whilst we admired 
the neatness of the vaulted rooms and the excellency 
as well as the abundance of the rations for the privates, 
the Scotch pipers played before the building, in their rich 
national costume, their monotonous bag-pipes. 

It is not merely the body of these splendid soldiers 
which is nourished in super-abundance with the finest beef 
and the most excellent potatoes, but an endeavour is also 
made to improve their mind. A rather rich library has been 
collected at the common expense, open to every one be- 
longing to the association, in which are also many papers, 
and amongst them the f Illustrated London News,' a luxury 
not found on the continent, even in many officers' quarters, 
for whom it would be still more useful than for the common 
men, with whom it might produce an injudicious half- 
knowledge. Whatever the private has here, his officer has in 
a greater degree, and the garrison library which we visited 
is really very interesting. Founded so far back as 1793, 
it is kept in a spacious place expressly allotted for this 
purpose, and already contains more than 8,000 works. 
Two of the newest struck me by their finished beauty: 
the one contained drawings, with explanations, of the 
Alhambra, the other, splendid lithographs of Egypt and its 
monumental wonders. How they made my mouth water, 
and what ardent desires were called forth by the view of 



GIBRALTAR. 239 

these remarkable pictures ! how oil was poured by them 
on the flames of my desire for travelling I 

Yes, let everyone travel who can. By travelling one 
gets the true view of life ; in this way only one becomes ac- 
quainted with the world, and really it is pitiable to see so 
many waste their money and their time stupidly sitting by 
their own fire-sides ; but still more to be despised are those 
who thoughtlessly let themselves be dragged like trunks 
through foreign countries, without recognising the beautiful 
and sublime, and who at best only make impertinent jokes 
over the immortal monuments of art and history. Unfor- 
tunately, the number of these travellers is very great in 
our time. The hopeful youths of the nineteenth century, 
educated in modern materialism, believe themselves in 
duty bound to travel; they think it bad style in the 
highest degree to find interest in anything interesting, or 
to get attracted, still less excited, by anything beautiful. 

They travel because it is bon ton, to test the different 
manners of cooking, to pass through the different theatrical 
seasons, and to show the people of various countries how 
they yawn at all that was formerly great, and how insipid 
and dull a modern elegant can be. Such a one annoys 
himself and others, and becomes a nuisance to all those 
he comes across. 

We now proceeded to the mess-house of the artillery 
officers, who had invited us to a luncheon. A detachment 
of artillery in glittering full-dress, with music, stood waiting 
before the house, to confer on us the most brilliant 
honours, whilst in the great hall a splendidly dressed table 
greeted us. The noblest wines, the best dishes, and the 
finest silver showed the wealth of the English army. Each 
regiment has its so-called mess, in which all the officers 
take part, in a suitable locality, where they have their 
meals together, and pay for them each day, whether they 
eat them or not, but for which they are excellently 



240 RECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

supplied. This may be of great advantage to the esprit 
de corps, and, at the same time, prevents the younger 
officers from exposing themselves to disagreeable scenes, 
in inferior inns. After the obligatory toasts had been 
dispatched, we went to the great barrack, where a red- 
coated and truly splendid regiment denied to lively 
music in measured parade-step, like a walking rock. 

In the fine, scrupulously clean barrack, I was especially 
struck by the mess-room of the non-commissioned officers. 
Comfort, which extends even to this inferior rank, shows 
the richness of this nation and its thorough knowledge of how 
to live, a knowledge exhibited by few nations, and which 
appears to me highly important. The English sergeant 
has his dining-hall, his cleanly laid-out table, his elegant 
and tasteful plate of English metal, as the officer does 
with us. It is true that the English sergeant can never 
become an officer, he therefore makes himself comfortable 
in his inferior position, whilst ours nourishes the hope of 
becoming an officer, should chance favour him. 

Very interesting to me was the examination of the con- 
victs' ship. For this purpose the English use old ships of 
the line, once rulers of the sea : these, now bare of orna- 
ment and painted grey, were distributed about the small bays 
of the rock. Formerly used for war, and carrying death 
over the seas, their fine oak decks serve now as large soul- 
coffins for criminals. The port-holes have become win- 
dows, all the spaces are emptied and changed into wide 
airy cages, above all description clean, and brightly scoured ; 
everything which recalls war and the sea, each tool and 
arm, has disappeared, and the poor empty vessel offers this 
advantage only, that buildings are thereby saved, and escape 
is rendered almost impossible by the surrounding sea. In 
the batteries where the guns formerly thundered the rab- 
ble now sleep in hammocks like sailors an arrangement 
deserving imitation, on account of its cleanliness and 



MALAGA. 241 

saving of room. Wooden gratings and partitions separate 
the different rooms, between which runs an airy passage. 
By the removal of all objects necessary for shipping, the 
space appears so large and light, that you no longer think 
that you are on the sea. Of the convicts the sick only 
were present in their hammocks, the rest were away at 
hard labour in chains. They wear a white and very good 
dress. 

The only reproach to be made against this excellent 
institution is that these men live much too well, and one 
can understand how hungry people may commit crimes 
merely to get into such an establishment. One wishes for 
the poor and honest Irish the abundant and good food 
here given to great criminals. That where the head can 
pass the body can. also, was here shown by a bold fellow 
who pressed himself between two cage-rails in a very in- 
credible manner. 

Sir Robert Gardiner accompanied us with his suite to 
the shore, on which was ranged a company with a band, 
and where he took a most cordial leave of me, to my great 
regret. We went on board ship, but a calm prevented us 
from leaving dear Gibraltar. 

September 25, 1851. 

The calm continued with its leaden pressure, destroying 
all energy, and not until 5 P.M. could we move, and, amidst 
the thunder of the English batteries, say good-bye to the 
proud rock of Calpe and take our course towards Malaga. 

f 

September 26, 1851. 

Towards evening we came in view of Malaga. Far off 
glowed the beautiful forms of the proud mountains of the 
Sierra Nevada. Beneath, on the blue and always beautiful 
sea, lay the world-famed town of Malaga, with its lofty 
cathedral towering gigantically over all houses ; with its 
old castle on the broken-down hill ; with its unpoetical 

VOL. I. R 



242 KECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

factory chimneys lighting up the night, which, like obelisks, 
but without ornament or hieroglyph, shoot up into the 
glowing blue sky; with its sea-defying pier and its far- 
seen lighthouse. Malaga is now one of the richest cities 
of beautiful Spain, and in a short time perhaps will be 
the first commercial place, for by its rapid rise it pro- 
mises to outshine Cadiz, once so rich. The principal trade 
of this growing city consists in dried fruit, and in a de- 
licious fiery wine, which the sun produces on its num- 
berless bare heights. The pilot was called by a gun-shot, 
but night had arrived before us and we had to delay our 
entry until next morning. 

Malaga, September 27, 1851. 

A little after seven we cast anchor in the roadstead. 
We soon went on shore and landed under the large iron 
roof, which covers a place teeming with people, quite 
mercantile in character, and crowded with goods. My first 
walk was to the gigantic cathedral. It is one of those rare 
buildings found only in Spain, which exhibits to the 
lovers of architecture the unsuccessful transition from the 
sublimely pure Gothic to the clumsily overloaded Eoman 
style. Still there are some fine ideas in this building; 
still are we surrounded by the delicate ornaments of the 
older time in a few favoured earlier-built parts, but the 
heaviness of an unmeaning pomp begins to appear in 
it. The principal fapade is a perfect failure, but it is 
shown with pride to the visitor on account of its heavy 
richness. Very handsome, on the contrary, is a side-door, 
of which the arches are delicately and artistically encir- 
cled by the Grothic ornament of a number of little saints 
in their neatly carved niches. It is arranged, as regards the 
interior, after the Spanish fashion, the choir being separated 
by walls and railings from the rest of the church. The 
high altar, free and raised, overlooks the other altars, 



MALAGA. 243 



which are in niches at the back of the round wall of 
riave. This arrangement has something dignified and 
high-priestly about it, directing all looks to the high 
altar, and separating the officiating clergy from the praying 
people. 

Though our consul spoke of Kaphaels, I only found in 
this church the painted saints carved in wood for which 
Spain is celebrated, in which the truth to life is often 
quite awful, and of which I found, as I mentioned before, 
a superlative specimen in St. Jerome in the Museum of 
Seville. In the church we were complimented by the 
worthy old bishop, who was recently appointed archbishop 
in Granada. I noticed that the bishops of Spain wear 
grass-green shepherd's hats, with many tassels, which look 
very well with their purple gown. The palace of the 
bishop on the Place of the Cathedral has, like the church, 
a too rich and tasteless fapade ; besides these there is not 
much worth seeing in the city. The streets are narrow 
and rather dirty, but very lively ; everywhere one sees the 
finest fruit for sale in masses; mules and donkeys are in 
motion everywhere, pressing and hurrying on ; but one 
misses the calm grace and dignity of Seville. 

Malaga, like every town in Spain, has its Plaza de la 
Constitucion and its Alameda, which is here indeed very 
fine and grand, in the middle of the city, with a wide triple 
avenue, and pleasantly surrounded by the largest build- 
ings of the city, amongst which are a few fine, city-like 
hotels. At the end of the fine airy promenade and towards 
the sea, stands a fountain of a very curious kind, in which 
the water is spouted into a basin by stone figures in a very 
natural way. Fortunately the police, watching over mor- 
ality, seem to have cut off the water from this joke of the 
days of wigs. There are some very elegant shops under 
the cool shade of a very pretty little bazaar. Here the 
celebrated clay statuettes are sold which, artistically done 

R 2 



244 EECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

and well coloured, represent scenes and costumes of the 
rich romantic life of Spain. The groups of a bull-fight 
are especially good, of which I, being a warm admirer of 
this national sport, bought several. 

The evenings in Malaga are truly magical in their in- 
tense and almost melancholy clear tints ; gold, blue, and 
pink fuse in the pure cloudless twilight, shining on the 
forms of the mountains and irresistibly calling forth sweet 
thoughts of the past and of eternity. 

Malaga, September 28, 1851. 

It was Sunday ; I heard the holy mass on board our 
frigate, and, as I did not feel particularly attracted by the 
city, remained there all day, and was in my cabin fighting 
with an extraordinary mass of flies, caused by the warm cli- 
mate and by the many fruit-ships richly laden with grapes. 
It was quite an Egyptian plague, which almost prevented 
me from writing. At last I lit a great number of candles, 
and crowds of my enemies fell a victim to the sudden 
eclaircissement. The others were on shore, and worked 
very hard at preparations for an excursion to Granada, 
which I absolutely, coute que coute, resolved to make to 
the flower of Moorish Spain. On all sides impediments 
arose to our journey: all the places in the diligence had been 
taken, the governor was obstinate, the road was not secure ; 
horses were not to be had, carriages were wanting. But 

* o o 

this was no reason why I should give up a journey on 
which I had set my heart. If people are obstinate and 
difficult to bring to reason, then I am still more obstinate 
and am the more resolved on not being prevented from 
carrying out what I want. That's the way to conquer. 
And so a vehicle was found at last, and a man to take 
us to Granada, the last place of note on our voyage this 
year. 



EN KOUTE TO GKAXADA. 245 

September 29, 1851. 

We started at two o'clock A.M. In the darkness and 
freshness, beneficial both for body and mind, we rowed 
to land, accompanied by our amiable commander, who 
would see us delivered over to the superintendent of our 
journey. On the Alameda stood two old carriages, scantily 
illuminated by some lights, each with six horses. Armed 
men on horseback surrounded the carriages, wrapped in 
dark cloaks ; a few words of farewell interrupted the still- 
ness of the moment, and away we went at a quick pace, as 
if it were an elopement in the beautiful romantic time of 
Don Quixote. Night covered us with its shade, and sleep, 
into which we soon fell, was only interrupted by the cries 
of the leaders and the rattling of the carriages, reminding 
us that we were on the high road to Granada. 

When morning came with its silvery grey light and the 
cold awoke us, we were at a great height, and a sublime 
panorama spread before and beneath us. Hundreds of cones 
of the curiously formed Middle Mountain rose before us, 
rose-coloured, whilst between the numberless hills, ascend- 
ing gradually to the chief mountain, appeared single 
valleys, beds of rivers, and crater-like cavities, overgrown 
by fresh vegetation, and from which shone out in the calm 
peaceable morning, single farm-h ouses and chapels. Behind, 
the high and beautifully formed giant-mountain shelters 
this land from the rough winds of the north, and endows 
it by the absorption and reflection of the sun's rays with that 
celebrated climate in which even in winter the temperature 
is never below 12 deg. of Reaumur, a temperature which 
enables every American plant to grow on this European 
soil. 

At the foot of the Middle Mountain, on a river bed now 
dry, and in a rather wide plain, lies the prosperous city, 
shining in the morning light. Before us expands the endless 



246 KECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

mirror of the azure sea, on which, as a speck in the wide 
horizon, our frigate was lying immovable. On the side 
of a mountain, between vineyards, our road took us to 
the Eocky Mountain. We frequently met peasants wrapped 
lip in their romantically picturesque ponchos ; caravans of 
mules with goods, or loads of grapes, for it was just the time 
of the harvest, were hurrying towards the city. The peasants 
of the country of Malaga, as in the plain of Granada, wear, 
like all Andalusians, embroidered leather gaiters, velvet or 
leather knee-breeches, the scarlet sash wound many times 
round the waist, the jacket neatly embroidered in colours, 
the knowing black velvet cap or peaked hat, and the above- 
named poncho, a broad, long, and sometimes embroidered 
strong cloth, in which the upper part of the body is en- 
veloped as in a Scotch plaid, serving now as a protection, 
and now as an ornament. 

At a little house on the first ridge we halted and took 
a cold breakfast, as an obliging alcalde on horse back, 
armed with his gun and bringing home part of his grape- 
harvest, offered us, politely and gracefully, according to 
Spanish custom, some beautiful grapes, without the least 
embarrassment, as if he were dealing with his confreres. We 
rewarded him with the remains of a bottle of Johannisberg, 
which honest German return he seemed to like very much. 
Whilst we were stopping here we remarked that our ser- 
vants were much better off in their carriage, in reference 
to temperature and space, than we were if something not 
at all good may be called better. They moreover numbered 
three only and we four : this caused us to change carriages, 
and we now got one of the time of Maria Theresa, with a 
large closed outside state box painted a cardinal-red colour. 
The inside was lined with silver-grey and yellow em- 
broidered satin ; in a word we got a gala carriage, excellent 
a hundred years ago, then indeed perhaps the pride of a 
grandee, a cardinal, or even a royal prince, but now 



EN ROUTE TO GRANADA. 247 

fallen from its high estate, but which, as I read with a 
certain pleasant emotion in the travelling sketches of the 
countess Hahn-Hahn, also served her a few years ago as 
probably all travellers to Granada and was spoken of by 
her with praise. 

The most curious thing about these Spanish vehicles, for 
the foreigner, is the manner of putting the horses to the car- 
riage. Six horses are connected to the carriage by means of 
traces, but only the shaft horses have bridles, which the so- 
called mayoral manages by means of dreadful cries ; the 
other four animals, amongst which is frequently a mule, 
are led by their own common sense and the zagal, a 
very nimble boy. The latter is always in motion ; gifted 
with famous lungs, he runs by the side of the front horses 
and mules, urging them with his stick, throws stones at 
them, and frightens them with his cries, sitting, if his ani- 
mals happen to be going in the proper direction, then 
again running in advance ; and thus he is the chief motive 
power of the whole equipage and at the same time an in- 
stance of Spanish endurance. It can be readily understood 
that this manner of driving does not at first agree very well 
with nervous foreigners ; for to look out upon a bridleless 
team can never be satisfactory, especially on rocky roads 
with precipices on either side. But the zagal is equal to 
all possible emergencies : an indefatigable help in trouble, 
and the real moving-spring of our very national vehicle. 
The mayoral, on the other hand, is decidedly the moral 
power, who in a crisis works by the power of speech, or 
rather by shouting to his animals ; he calls everyone by its 
name, as Coronel, Castagno or Capitano, to encourage them 
in their hard duty ; %ut if they excite his ire he calls 
them the most offensive names, and so attempts to work 
upon their already somewhat blunted sense of honour, then 
one frequently hears the c Anda, perro ! ' (Gro ahead, dog !) 

We had, as I said before, reached the first hill, and 



248 KECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

now found ourselves on a wide table-land, looking to- 
wards a rocky, bare, gigantic mountain ; in the plain was 
the village of our friendly alcalde and some fields, but 
otherwise it was rather bare, especially as we came nearer 
to the mountain over which we had to pass, and at the 
foot of which everything acquired the character of our 
high Alps. The grass was short and greenish yellow, the 
plants, amongst which there were no trees, corresponded 
with those of our high mountains ; single cows and goats 
were browsing on the sunny meadows running up to the 
rocks. In a word, all wore the stamp of our beloved 
Salzkammergut, and homely and pleasant, if somewhat 
sad feelings, shot through my heart like a sunbeam from 
the sunny past. Ascending the mountain on foot, we met 
the diligence, drawn by mules, plying between Malaga 
and Granada ; it quickly passed us, for the mules go at a 
very good pace. We looked astonished at the passengers, 
and they looked inquiringly at us, as is always the case 
where men meet but for a moment on the wide earth in 
places where few living beings are ever seen. In the eyes 
of these passengers one feels a sense of importance, tra- 
velling as we were. We know that we are a riddle to 
them. We stand before those we shall perhaps never 
meet again with a sort of coquetry. So it is on a high 
mountain, where two people meet at sunrise, so on the sea 
when two ships meet, so also on the dreary heights of the 
Sierra de Eonda, where people measure each other en- 
quiringly and for a short moment form an intellectual 
connection by both being travellers and engaged on the 
same errand. 

Before we crossed the mountain, which closed before 
us like an enchanted wall, through which there was no 
visible passage, we stopped at a posada, a regular Spanish 
inn, in order to refresh ourselves and our horses. A stable 
and a yard with a good well sufficed for the horses; a large 



LOJA. 249 

irregular, smoky, and dirty room served as kitchen and 
larder and sitting-room for the numerous family of 
the host and as the reception room for the visitors ; in 
a word, it was a room used for all purposes. But the 
posada contained a treasure in the family of our friendly 
hostess, who were the handsomest children I think I had 
ever seen: a truly Murillo-like family. They had the brown 
fresh face with the large splendid eye, upon which it was a 
pleasure to gaze ; and withal, the children were so natural 
and so graceful, that it was a pleasure to converse with 
them. A painter could not have found prettier models for 
his Christ-child, his John the Baptist, or his little angels. 

A wild, romantic defile, a fine place for a band of 
robbers, brought us over the crest and down a slope planted 
with ancient bushy cork-oaks. Over a wide plain we came 
upon the splendid new road leading to Loja. 

The soil here seemed to be fertile, but was now barren ; 
in one valley only, which we could see from the road, 
was an extremely pretty oasis refreshing the eye, amongst 
the trees of which several large buildings were seen, pro- 
bably a colony of manufacturers. During the day it rained 
a little, but the evening was beautiful and clear, and the 
Spanish sun went down splendidly, colouring the moun- 
tains with purple. The air, purified by the rain, was re- 
freshing. The country became greener, and towards dark 
we came upon a little river with overgrown banks, on 
which, on an elevation, and surrounded with trees, was the 
little town of Loja, the cradle of the once powerful and 
energetic Narvaez, duke of Valentia. A few advantages in 
lighting and some of the walks in this small and insigni- 
ficant place show that the great man who ruled Spain and 
its queen did not forget in the height of his splendour his 
humble birth-place. In a fonda where lamp-oil was used 
for the salad from which we may conclude that the one 
was too good or the other too bad we passed the night. 



250 RECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

Granada, September 30, 1851. 

As early as four o'clock in the morning, an unmerciful 
hour, we had to get into our red state-carriage, that we 
might enter the Moorish royal city as early as possible. 
Daylight found us on an undulating barren plain. At the 
side of the ferry a fine stone bridge is being built over the 
river. Perhaps in the spring the river will be more swollen ; 
at present the bridge is a luxury. We had passed the 
Rubicon and now came upon the famous Vega de Granada 
-the centre of civilisation in the old Moorish times and the 
heart of beautiful Spain. To our left were to be seen the 
woods which a grateful country gave to the victorious 
Wellington, as a magnificent addition to his English estate; 
before us in the distance lay Granada with its fresh green 
chain of hills. Unfortunately it rained, and rain is very 
unfavourable to romance, and damps enthusiasm. At the 
station next to Granada a detachment of lancers waited 
for us. Here we had an opportunity of seeing greyhounds 
peculiar to the country, and red partridges, which in 
Andalusia are kept in very small cages, just large enough to 
hold the body of the animal, probably for the purpose of 
fattening them. We passed through Santa Fe, a small 
place with a large church, standing on the spot where Isa- 
bella the Catholic heard mass with her husband on the day 
of the taking of Granada. We were now at the entrance 
of the city and saw distinctly the charming chain of hills, a 
lovely terrace at the foot of the mighty principal mountain. 
Red walls and towers in the manner of our castles, high up 
amid the fresh green, made me think of the Alhambra. 

A few palms and the arena for the bull-fights were the 
first things that struck us in the city : we passed them 
under a steady rain, and rattled on to an hotel in a large 
street on the banks of a river ; but nothing was to be had 
there, so we wandered on to the Leon de Oro in the neigh- 
bourhood of the theatre, where we settled down and had 



GRANADA. 251 

occasion to be satisfied with our choice. We had scarcely 
disposed of our luggage, when, armed with umbrellas, we 
made a hurried tour through the city. In the neighbour- 
hood of our fonda we came first upon a place in the 
centre of which stands a marble pedestal with bronze 
inscriptions and ornaments a monument dedicated to the 
revolution and its heroes. The clumsy statue of a woman 
of the name of Perez, who would not betray the names of 
those who had taken part ia a meeting for liberty held in 
her house, and who was beheaded under Ferdinand VII., 
was intended for a number of years to occupy this pedes- 
tal ; we were shown the model of this statue, which, to the 
horror of all friends of art, is preserved in the museum. 
More interesting and much finer is a pedestal in the 
centre of the Plaza de la Constitucion, on which stands the 
old winter palace of the Moorish kings, now the town hall. 
How the old sovereigns would wonder at finding the word 
Constitution in the place of their despotism ! On this 
place the splendid bull-fights were first held in Spain, 
which originally were only games and not fights ; there, 
under the royal balcony, the Moors let bulls loose, exerting 
against them their utmost courage and strength without 
killing their mighty antagonists. It remained for the 
chivalrous Christian time, used to combats, to change the 
game into a serious one. I could not easily imagine the 
Moors, in their oriental dress, seriously contending with 
a bull ; the fierceness and strength of the Goths seemed to 
me much better suited for it. This Moorish custom is 
utterly extinct in Africa, whilst in the Peninsula it was 
grafted on medieval chivalry, and thus imbued with a 
new life, out-lived all revolutions, and continues even 
in this humanitarian age to excite this fiery people, and 
even the foreign visitor, who is caught in the whirlpool 
of their enthusiasm. The importance of the place- bulls 
occupy amongst the Spanish people is proved by the 



252 RECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

following occurrence. When the Duchess of Montpen- 
sier came for the first time to Tarifa, where for ages no 
royal scion had been seen, the loyal population thought 
that they could not express their joy in a better manner 
than by letting ten bulls loose in the middle of the town. 
One can imagine the surprise of the loiterers ; all ran 
into their houses and all doors were carefully closed. 
Late in the evening one of the court-ladies, who was not 
quartered in the house of the duchess, was going to her 
lodgings and had to cross the street, when one of the 
festival bulls rushed towards her. She turned round in a 
great fright, but, oh heavens ! from the other side of the 
street came also another similar monster, trotting on 
towards her ; her position was more than disagreeable, it was 
critical and dangerous. For a matador there might have 
been a chance of a double victory ; but our poor dona 
seemed lost, when fortunately a door opened quickly and 
she found an asylum, getting off only with a fright. 
This story, which I heard from the amiable duke himself, 
is a good illustration of this Spanish custom. 

In the place mentioned above, as well as in the various 
genuine Spanish streets running into it, are many well 
supplied shops ; but in tKem are sold, be it said to the praise 
of the frugal Spaniard, objects more of necessity than of 
luxury: unlike our cities, where the latter are oftener 
found to the ruin of the lower classes, who think they 
must imitate the rich. The Spaniard does not know this 
malady of wanting things above his position. He dresses as 
his father dressed, cleanly and simply, nor does his house 
exhibit any ornament except in his beloved patio, which 
no house in Granada is without, and which is always 
arranged in the most pleasant and most agreeable man- 
ner. But it is not the luxury which is noticeable, but 
the graceful and light style of building, the ever fresh orna- 
ment of lovely women and beautiful plants, the strange 



GRANADA. 253 

subdued light and the lively refreshing play of its little 
fountains. The ladies also know no other luxury than 
their mantilla, trimmed with fine lace, the velo, and the 
Chinese fan. Black which so well becomes them pre- 
vents a too great extravagance, and they ornament their 
rich black hair, which nature always gives them in rich 
abundance, with roses and jasmine. An additional charm 
to their attractive exterior, and for which they are 
much envied by foreigners, are the small fine shoes into 
which they put their lovely little feet. Everyone knows 
how frugal the Spaniards are, and frequently their whole 
meal, to them a very rich one, consists in their beloved 
and really savoury olla podrida. 

An elegant ornament of Granada is the silk bazaar, 
which has come down from the time of the Moors : a 
perfect garden of little marble columns with beautiful 
arches, many interwoven arabesques and inscriptions, form 
a range of small shops, where, in the proud day of the 
Caliphs, the silk interwoven with gold was sold for their 
luxuriant oriental garments. Now, everything is sold 
here, and this spoils the delicate harmony of the fine 
building. 

The large, majestic cathedral stands on the place occu- 
pied once by the old mosque, of which the traces are still 
to be seen on one side, and recalls, without equalling in its 
exterior, the Gothic splendour of the cathedral of Seville. 
The exterior of the cathedral of Granada is difficult to 
understand, as it does not stand free enough, and draws a 
number of buildings into its net of ornaments. The wide 
gigantic interior is a mixture of Gothic, New Eoman, and 
Moorish. The Capilla Real, the jewel of the church, is 
pure Gothic, and a true treasure of historical relics, to which 
we will return in the afternoon. The lofty cupola, which 
rests on columns, is New Roman, and arches over the high 
altar, around which everything is full of gold and tawdry 



254 KECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

ornament. The Arco Maravilloso an arch with an ex- 
tremely wide span connects the cupola with the nave, 
and forms the gate between the space round the altar 
and the high wide church, representing a very curious 
transition from the Grothic to the Koman, but where the 
remains of Grothic were more numerous than in the 
cathedral of Malaga. 

In our fonda a dinner awaited us, only too good, and too 
well served, commencing with the olla podrida and 
ending, as if we were in Canaan, with monster grapes, the 
juice of which ran over. I do not believe that anywhere 
in the world are grapes that can vie with those of beau- 
tiful Granada in size and excellency ; even in the much- 
praised East I have found nothing like them, especially 
the blue ones. 

Scarcely had we refreshed ourselves when we again 
hurried to the great cathedral, to examine its interior, and 
to hear the playing of the great organs, whose screaming 
and snarling sounds disturb in an unpleasant manner 
the serious stillness of the church. It was fortunate that 
this by no means edifying concert did not last long. In 
general I am no friend of the organ, as its notes are rarely 
pure and clear, scarcely ever soft, and too mechanical. 
There is too much rattling and groaning. There are a few 
sublime moments when one hears the harmony of the 
spheres and which correspond with the magnificence and 
power of the Catholic Church. 

We left the centre of the church, and began to examine 
its history in the curious Capilla Eeal, a masterwork of 
perfect harmony. It was in the light of evening, the true 
light to look wonderingly in an earnest frame of mind at 
monuments of a beautiful past. A rich iron railing sepa- 
rates the chapel from the church; behind it shines the 
splendidly carved Gothic altar, in colours and gold, raised 
on steps : a sublime production of art of a childlike, pious, 



GRANADA. 255 

and poetic time, reminding one by its expressive little 
figures and tastefully interwoven ornaments of a noble 
christmas crib -play thing , as we have it in Germany. 

Especially curious is the altar, constructed from two wood 
basso-rilievos, one of which represents the unfortunate 
Moorish king Boabdil marching out of the Alhambra, the 
walls of which are seen, he is bringing the keys of the castle 
to the victorious Ferdinand ; the other exhibits Moorish 
women bending over a baptismal basin to receive the con- 
secration of the Christian religion. These two carvings are 
curious by reason of the costumes, which are somewhat 
different from those of the Moors of the present day. 
Still more curious are four portraits, also carved in wood 
and painted in colours, of Ferdinand and Isabella, of Philip 
and his great son Charles V. Philip, called by his con- 
temporaries the Handsome, has the sharp, large Haps- 
burgian features which characterise his father Maximilian, 
and which have something typical and peculiar to that 
time. Each century, as also every country, has its peculiar 
physiognomies which are not to be mistaken, and such a one 
is that of the noble Maximilian which has come down to his 
descendants. Strictly moral which is sufficiently indicated 
by the dress, fully covering the form proud, cold, and 
devout, and firm in character, must have been the serious 
Isabella. The Catholic Ferdinand appears to me more in- 
significant. There are two other pictures of her husband 
in the sacristy. 

At the foot of the altar are two fine double sarco- 
phagi of dazzling white marble, on which are curiously- 
carved likenesses of Ferdinand and Isabella, of Philip 
and the maid Joan, who look serious and solemn as 
petrified corpses. Their son Charles caused this fine 
monument to be erected in honour of the latter. The 
first monument bears the stamp of the strict Catholic time, 
but the second is embellished, with truly astonishing art, 
by the luxurious, heathenish, mystical ornaments of the 



256 RECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

refining but also lowering Cinque-cento epoch, in imitation 
of the antique. 

I looked right into the dead still face of the stone 
likenesses of my ancestors ; they were great men, who en- 
acted a portion of history, who have done something on this 
earth, have begotten a mighty, far-ruling race, and now rest 
alone in a solitary chapel. Vanitas vanitatum ! Instead 
of the glittering court surrounding them as formerly, a 
poorly clad sacristan now takes a torch, opens a small iron 
door, and leads me down narrow steps into a low, musty 
vault, without any embellishment, any ornament where 
the naked truth grins. On this the eye of the forgetful heir 
never looks, and what the world does not see, it does not 
adorn. Here rest these proudly royal couples in these 
narrow, small, dreadful, bare coffins. One feels the heart 
oppressed, and the memento mori to princes shudder 
through the soul. 

In Spain I was the nearest legitimate relative to the 
poor dead, nearer than the ruler and the princes of the 
country. Here I felt that the family feeling lives even 
after centuries, and a melancholy regret moved my soul 
to see the great dead thus forsaken and not thought of by 
the new dynasty. I, in simple dress, stand by the coffin of 
those on whose sunny throne our family would still rule if 
there had not been a Charles II. 

Beside the two royal couples there lies in the musty 
vault Don Michael, an elder brother of Charles V., who in 
his 13th year died from a fall from his horse. The very 
existence and the fatal end of this prince, who, according 
to the decrees of fate, had to make room for a man who 
was great for all time, had remained unknown to me till 
I saw his coffin. For such a young life history has no 
pages ; it is only when a man either does deeds or resists 
a progressive development that his name is noted down 
in the books of Clio ; moving-springs or drag-chains alone 
become known. 



GRANADA. 257 

Darkness began to creep over those dismal vaults a 
veil over the empire of death. The Quasimodo unlocked 
a small room, stirred about in the darkness, and returned 
with the regalia of the Catholic Ferdinand and the prayer- 
book of the devout Isabella. That which a proud nobility 
and pages formerly vied in carrying, the sexton of the cathe- 
dral now brought to the simple stranger. Proudly and yet 
sadly I took in my hand the golden ring and the once power- 
ful sword. Would it not be a brilliant dream to draw the 
latter in order to win the former ? All that was once so 
great is now a toy for foreigners and for the curious, and I 
asked the sacristan, whether I might be allowed Ferdin- 
and's crown for a few shining thalers; but against that he 
protested. He had recently been forbidden to exhibit the 
church ornaments embroidered by Isabella's own hands, be- 
cause an Englishman had cut off some gold fringe. 

Before leaving the cathedral we read over the episcopal 
ordinance, calling to remembrance that people who con- 
spire or have to do with mujeres will be excommunicated 
or fined. Availing ourselves of the night, we stole to a 
dark narrow street in which a woman sells wall orna- 
ments of the Alhambra, stolen by galley slaves ; the old 
woman feigned to be very nervous, and told us that 
the robbers of Alhambra arabesques were punished by 
having their left hand cut off. On returning to our fond a 
we heard through the night air, singing and the jingling of 
bells ; they were people who either in honour of the Mother 
of God and of the saints, or to obtain alms, went about sing- 
ing litanies a singular, rest-disturbing custom. 

Granada, October, 1851. 

Soon after six o'clock a.m. we left the fonda to do 
homage to the crown of Moorish Spain, and, in an elevated 
frame of mind we directed our way towards the Alhambra. 
We were to enjoy the sight of the crowning point of our 

VOL. I. s 



258 RECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

fine journey; one of those moments but rarely enjoyed in 
life. The weather had cleared up, promising a fine day. 
Passing the grand palace of justice, in the Cinque-cento 
style, ornamented with a big bell on the roof, and the 
house of the perfidious Gromer, whose history we shall hear 
later, we came to that gate, also in the Cinque -cento style, 
built by Charles V. in the precincts of the stronghold of 
the Alhambra. At home one imagines the Alhambra to 
be a fairy residence, but it is a great mistake ; it is a 
strong citadel on a rocky height with mighty walls, numer- 
ous towers and heavy gates, including in its interior two 
kingly residences, the summer palace of the Moorish kings, 
and the unfinished palace of Charles V., besides several 
hundreds of houses and numberless gardens, nay even 
fields. The whole rock-hill with its under world, sheltering 
during the siege 40,000 Moors, is called the Alhambra, and 
is still considered a fortress. But what a fortress ! A really 
goodly castle, uniting in its Moorish halls the charms of 
nymphs and fairies, to the strength of Jupiter in the fine 
palace of the emperor. Seen from below, the Alhambra 
appears like an old German feudal castle with balconies, 
tower and ring walls, and one imagines oneself in Germany, 
though a more glorious Germany. Entering the fresh, 
cool park which runs around the hill, and ascending to the 
castle, the luxuriant trees, always watered by fresh springs, 
form a magnificent arch ; a fine walk with rose-hedges runs 
under a dome of oaks, beech trees, plantains and chest- 
nut trees ; everything shines with an eternal spring. My 
heart leapt within me at the sight of this beautiful grove, 
and I imagined myself at home in Heimbach or Dornbach, 
only there it must not be October 1, but May 1, and be 
always May 1 , to be like what it is here. This is the 
charm of Granada, that it unites the freshness and the ful- 
ness of the north with the mysterious charm of the south. 
A second gate, and this time a Moorish one, brought 






GKANADA. 259 

me into the interior encircling wall on a wide place 
opening before the building of Charles V., and the summer 
residence, with the Moorish cisterns, which form arches 
underneath it, and contain delicious, icy-cold water ; to the 
left, opposite the kingly residences, rises the Torre de la 
Vela, a mighty red tower, from the battlements of which 
the Christian banner first proclaimed to the new Spain, 
which was then proudly rising, the victory of the royal 
Catholic couple of January 2, 1492 ; towards the park stands 
the Torre del Vino with elegant, rich-coloured, Moorish, 
horse-shoe arches; here, under Moorish rule, Christian 
wives were sold. All this is connected together by ir- 
regular walls, and interspersed now and then with patches 
of green, forming an interesting picture of a knightly resi- 
dence which has become a ruin. Stepping between tower 
and castle on to the breastworks, a picture of rare charm 
unfolds itself ; the ancient, venerable, city with its high 
churches and many towers lies, a perfect world of houses 
and gardens, in the valley of the Darro. On the height 
opposite the Alhambra is the old poetical Moorish town 
Albaicin, and over it, glittering in southern warmth, the 
rich vega, surrounded by mountains, the blessing of the 
country, and behind us the bluish-black rocks, with snow- 
covered tops, of the Sierra Nevada. 

Looking on the buildings before me, I ask enquiringly for 
this much praised summer palace, but I only see naked ir- 
regular walls; this is, however, quite Oriental, that the build- 
ings from the outside should be mean-looking, and the inte- 
rior only, which is disclosed to the guest, should discover 
the hidden charm, as the shell which is black outside con- 
ceals within it the pure pearl. Very imposing in ex- 
terior is the summer palace of the great Charles, a splendid 
reflex of the noble builder. Charles was an emperor, but 
he was also a poet; in travelling through his beautiful 
Spain he came upon Granada, and at once fell in love 

s2 



260 RECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

with it. Here the fresh verdure of his northern dominions 
was offered to him united to the rich luxuriance of the 
south, satisfying his love of romance. Here must he live. 
It was not the emperor, but the poet, who loved the Al- 
hambra. The little rose-gardens, the myrtle-courts, the 
marble basins, with the silver purling fountains and the 
merry dabbling fishes, the woods of slender marble columns, 
the architectural wreaths of leaves and the fairy arabesques, 
the dreamy life fed with the fragrance of roses and the 
song of nightingales all this, which was the charm of 
the interior of this Moorish palace, captivated him. For 
the master of the world, who was not permitted to dream 
on a throne eternally lit by the sun, all this loveliness 
was useless. Grand must be the dwelling of the great 
Charles ; he tore down the Moorish winter-palace to build 
his imperial residence on the ruins of a destroyed fairy- 
tale world. He did a horrible violence to art, but his 
palace of large freestone is the idea of a ruler, whilst 
what remains of the summer palace of the Moorish kings 
leaves only a lovely and romantic impression ; as of a 
dwelling of elves woven from moonbeams, in which one 
may dream but not govern. Charles's palace resembles 
a crowned and helmeted prince in serious majesty, whilst 
the seat of the Caliphs resembles a siren with pearls in 
her wavy silken hair. 

Were I a sovereign and had to choose between these 
two royal residences I should decide at once for the palace of 
Charles. We entered through a horse-shoe arch in the 
bare outside wall. Transplanted as by enchantment, we 
found ourselves secluded at once from the rest of the 
world and in the dream-land of the Alhambra, in a 
long charming patio, ornamented at both ends with light 
galleries and perforated arches. In the middle, surrounded 
by myrtles, violets, and roses, is a rectangular piece of 
water with merry gold-fishes ; this water is fed by fountains 



GEANADA. 261 

and little channels in the marble floor of the court. Un- 
fortunately the play of the fountains, a principal charm of 
the Alhambra, was stopped to-day. Over one of the two 
galleries, whose marble columns have blue ornamented capi- 
tals and arabesques, a passage runs towards the palace of 
Charles V. In the first storey were wooden lattice-windows, 
like those of Oriental houses ; and above is a lofty colonnade 
with a richly-carved wood ceiling. This is the highest part 
of the whole Moorish palace, which in other parts has only 
a ground floor or single storey, and seems to have formed 
the passage to the winter palace, as there is still one gate 
here which leads to the emperor's building. How deli- 
cious must be this patio in the mild moonlight of spring, 
when myrtle and violet send forth their fragrance, when 
the sweet love-song of the nightingale is wafted through 
the air, when the fountains melodiously murmur, and the 
moon sheds her silvery beams on the untarnished mirror 
of water ! 

The wonder of the Alhambra is the Court of Lions, 
which is the largest patio in the palace. The Moor does 
not care for system, or regularity, which is the greatest 
enemy of poetry in everything, and therefore also to 
architecture. Through beautiful gates which obliquely 
cross each other one comes upon a rectangular enclosed 
court, surrounded by a colonnade which is rather a dream 
than a building. On the two shorter sides it runs out 
into kiosk -like projections, half open balconies, half little 
temples, which rest on slender little columns. Everywhere 
the intersections produce charming perspectives and are 
perforated like lace veils, everything seems waving or 
hanging loosely as if negligently attached with diamond 
pins ; the arabesques part and reunite in everlasting 
puzzles ; narrow channels carry the silvery flood from 
fountain to fountain, and the very breath of poetry raises 
for the looker-on a dream of enjoyment: 124 columns 



262 RECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

bear the light burden, and form the slender support of 
this stone tent; for the Alhambra is, after all, like the 
Alcazar of Seville, an enchanted tent, and even still more 
so than that ; or are these very veils and very lace, which 
delicately swing from support to support ? are these not 
golden interwoven cloths of Cashmere and Thibet, which 
fall down in dazzling folds from the lofty walls ? does 
not one expect every moment that all this light delicate 
web will swell to the air ? Yes, here we stand in the 
Oriental tent which a caliph from the far East has erected, 
on the green heights of Granada, to the bride of his 
heart for his honeymoon. 

But this work of the moment was too beautiful to be 
allowed to perish, and art for ever fixed the tent of linen 
and silk, of purple and golden embroidery. The fine 
bride's veil of the sultana, interwoven with blossoms, has 
come down through hundreds and hundreds of years, from 
generation to generation, a lasting splendour, and still 
affords a glimpse in the charm of its remains, of what it 
must have been in its full glory. Still it is but a tent, 
poetical but not grand, and, notwithstanding its duration 
of 400 years, an ephemeral picture of fancy without 
the assurance of stability. I candidly confess that not- 
withstanding the charming picture stamped on my 
memory, the Alhambra did not altogether come up to my 
expectation, it was too small, too neat, too confined ; it- 
was not royal enough, and I missed bold lines and im- 
posing masses. Two things may have spoiled the im- 
pression : the sun, that gilder of all earthly things, was 
wanting, and I had first seen the Alcazar of Seville, so that 
I was not surprised, though this is built in the same manner 
and in many details is more royal. The ceilings of the 
gallery of the Court of Lions, as also those azulejos run- 
ning round the wall, are still perfectly preserved in their 
rich, fresh colours and their wonderful wood carvings, and 



GRANADA. 263 

form the most splendid instance of drawings arithmetically 
running into each other so as to produce a beautiful tout- 
ensemble. The colours and lines are calculated in such a 
manner that they, though forming also in their details 
thousands of figures, if looked on as a whole mingle in such 
a manner as artfully to create fresh forms. Each part 
vanishes in the whole, whilst the whole is divided into 
numberless details which in themselves form splendid parts. 
Thus the mind has an opportunity for its ingenuity in unit- 
ing and dissolving these beautiful forms. The lines in the 
azulejos are always straight and in square forms; but the 
arches of clay and mortar ending in hundreds of points, 
the basso-rilievos covering the walls of the hall, the graceful 
arabesques like the finest Persian or Indian embroidery, 
from the border of the azulejos to the rich ceilings, are 
more intricate and are woven into each other in circular 
forms. Throughout the ornaments of the arches, as in those 
of the hall walls, which are in shape and colour like the 
finest lace and often, also, transparent as lace, runs every- 
where the sentence : ( Grod alone is the victor.' How grace- 

o 

ful a puzzle this sentence makes, may be concluded from 
the circumstance that the Arab writing is itself arabesque. 
As the Court of Lions was repairing when I saw the 
Alhambra, we missed the many waterworks belonging to 
each room, and the green plants, which, as in the myrtle 
court, generally surround the large alabaster basin. The 
Moors understood the charming power of water and knew 
how to subject it in their finest buildings and gardens to 
the most lovely uses. There is no hall without a fountain, 
no court without a marble basin freshly filled, no garden 
without the spray of water and numberless small cascades ; 
thus that murmuring is obtained, that delicate play of rising 
and falling pearls, that eternal freshness which is given to 
the air on hot summer days, and that soothing murmur 
in the calm moonlight. Water in the rooms is a poetical 



264 RECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

luxury very little known with us, but which I will intro- 
duce as much as possible into my little world. Nothing is 
perfect, not even nature, where the eye is not refreshed 
and strengthened by water. The union of the splendour 
of flowers with gold and marble is also one of those 
ideas of the Moors showing the skill they had to make 
the beautiful also agreeable, and the sublime in art, 
homelike. With us, all fresh plant-life is exterminated, in 
order that art should stand quite naked ; as if a handsome 
woman wreathed with roses did not look doubly pretty ! 
Everything with us becomes directly museum-like, classi- 
fied and tedious; one begins to think that one cannot 
admire art without a catalogue in hand and spectacles on 
the nose; one does not enjoy it as an ornament of exist- 
ence ; it becomes isolated from nature and thereby loses 
its meaning which is to be interwoven in our life like a 
golden thread. The most striking proof of my assertion 
is Munich, where art is so completely separated from life, 
standing formally on the cothurnus, and therefore cold 
and shivering. The old Greeks understood something 
of art ; their temples which were in cypress-groves were 
half concealed and half shining out; and round their 
gods wound fragrant rose garlands, blooming chains unit- 
ing art to nature. 

On the right and the longer wall of the Court of Lions 
is the Hall of the Abencerrages, into which leads a broad 
open door with two low little doors at its two sides and 
two elegant niches for the slippers of the Moors. Through 
the right entrance-door came, so says tradition, the un- 
fortunate Abencerrages, allured by king Abu Abdillah, 
to be beheaded at the fountain in this hall. Traces 
of blood are still shown, large red spots in the white 
marble floor, a counterpart to the blood of Wallen- 
stein shown on the boards of Eger. There are two ver- 
sions of this story of the unfortunate Abencerrages, who 



GRANADA. 265 

were a kind of knightly order at the Moorish court. 
The one tells that Zoraya, a former Christian lady of won- 
derful beauty, had been the consort of king Abu Abdillah, 
whose name is usually contracted to Boabdil, and to whom 
has been given the surname of f el Chico,' the Little. 
At the Moorish royal court, to the misfortune and the 
weakening of the government, lived two parties of knights 
hating each other to the full, the Abencerrages and Zegris; 
the former were descended from Ibn Cerraj, the grand 
vizier of a king of Cordova, and formed a powerful and 
widely spread family; the latter were the knights of 
Saragossa and other cities of Aragon, having after the loss 
of their province retired to Granada ; some called them 
Thegrim, that is the people of Thegr, the Arabian name 
of the kingdom of Aragon. One of the most powerful at 
the court of the little Boabdil was el Perfido Gromer, 
whose house we saw at the entrance of the Alhambra, who 
was of the Zegris, and who brooded over an hereditary 
hatred against the Abencerrages and against the influence 
of Zoraya the handsomest of the sultanas, she whose face 
bloomed like the rose of Damascus, whose eye outshone 
the gazelles of Darfur, and whose hair waved like the 
palm-leaves of Tyre. 

In order to ruin both with one blow, he informed the 
suspicious king that the handsome sultana had been seen 
one evening in the Greneralife, a castle on the height behind 
the Alhambra, under a cypress, and in conversation with 
an Abencerrage. This was enough for Oriental jealousy 
and sufficient to produce in the king that terrible reso- 
lution, in consequence of which- the tribe of the Aben- 
cerrages perished, and the sultana became a prisoner. 
The visitor is still shown the iron-grated balcony-passage, 
in a small mean-looking yard of the Alhambra in which 
Zoraya obtained a little air, and where at a later period 
the lunatic mother of Charles Y. was kept. It reminded 



266 RECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

me vividly of the short walking dens of the bears in the 
Schoenbrunn menagerie. In a treacherous manner the 
Abencerrages were decoyed into the charming hall, named 
after them, to be there decapitated ; only some few who 
were warned by a page hurrying from the scene of murder 
succeeded in saving themselves. Zoraya was more fortu- 
nate than the knights sacrificed for her. The news of her 
unjust imprisonment penetrated the Christian country 
where several young and noble men of the Christian army 
resolved to save her. They presented themselves to 
Isabella the Catholic with an urgent request that they 
might be permitted to fight for the innocence of the 
Moorish queen. After having received, though . with 
difficulty, permission for the adventure, they entered, 
disguised as Moorish knights, and as men understanding 
the Arabian language, into the Alhambra, inviting the 
calumniator Gomer to a combat before the king. Gomer 
afraid of these brave fellows confessed his crime and the 
noble queen was liberated. 

The other version says : a sultan of the name of Mouley 
Abu-1-hasan Ali, called by the Spanish authors briefly 
Alboacen, a son of Mahomed X., had two wives, one a 
cousin, 'Ayeshah, and the above-named Zoraya, who both 
presented him with male offspring. The king was attached 
with all his heart to the sultana Zoraya, which Boused 
the jealousy of the other in the highest degree, and she 
became afraid that her husband might prefer the children 
of the hated rival to her own. She gained over the Zegris 
to her cause, whilst the Abencerrages held by the queen 
Zoraya. Abu Abdillah Mahomed (Boabdil), according to 
this version, a son of 'Ayesha, fled in June 1482 from 
Granada to Cadiz, was there proclaimed king, and re- 
turning victoriously to Granada, dethroned his father. 
Urged on by the Zegris he wished to be revenged upon 
the Abencerrages and invited them under the pretext of 



GRANADA. 267 

reconciliation with the Zegris to his house, and there had 
them ignominiously executed. Whatever may be the 
truth, the history, according to either version, is a bloody 
one, and this hall derived its name from the unfortunate 
victims of the crime. 

In the time of the Moors these beautiful rilievos glowed 
in all their freshness of colour ; they are now much faded 
and in many places have been barbarously whitewashed. 
By order of the government they are just now busy in 
restoring as far as possible in this hall, those that have 
received damage. These clay ornaments being slightly 
relieved produce a picturesque shade. The light pro- 
jecting lines, and the ornaments, whose graceful drawings 
are taken from the world of fancy or from nature, are 
always lined with verses from the Koran of great sub- 
limity, the Arabic letters forming graceful arabesques sup- 
ported by fine marble columns. Here we see mineralogy 
with all the wonders of the underground world exhibited 
in a poetical form, and through its most precious metal. 

The gradations of this building, its sharp contrasts of 
colour, metal, and shape, combined together as they 
are by a rich Oriental fancy, give an exquisite charm 
to these rooms, and make it difficult to believe that they 
are the work of man's hand. They appear rather a dream, 
a beautiful fancy, a poem, a heart- stirring piece of music. 
Indeed the whole of the Alhambra is a fairy tale. How 
delicious it must have been in the old Moorish nights, 
when the mild moonlight shone through the cupola, the 
fountains murmured, and the air was fragrant with roses, 
and resounding with the melody of the lute ! The glowing 
words of Arab and Spanish minstrels bear testimony to the 
beauty of these moments in these magical halls. 

Now these halls are empty and forsaken, and the melan- 
choly murmuring of water is unaccompanied by the charm 
of song. All this magnificence and beauty glitter now 



268 RECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

for the eyes of strangers only, or for the galley-slave. It 
is as still as death, and the moon illumines the poetry of a 
past time only. 

At the other end of the Court of Lions, opposite the 
entrance in the myrtle court, is the hall of justice, where 
the princes of the East sat in court amongst the faithful. 
Here is a perfect labyrinth of larger and smaller rooms 
and of niches with those golden pyramidical ceilings, 
like stalactites. These are united to a gallery, divided 
into seven compartments by wide, airy arches, chiselled with 
exquisite delicacy. In some of these niches are alle- 
gorical paintings, painted on parchment by the Christian 
slaves during the time of the Moors. Amongst these, on 
a golden ground, are the portraits of ten Moorish judges, 
full of a patriarchal dignity. These serious-looking men, 
sitting in a circle on cushions, give us an idea of the 
costumes of the Moors of that time. A bernous covers all 
the head, except the face, and is joined to a light-coloured 
turban ; they have also a kind of cravat, a wide caftan, 
divided in two as in some old Venetian pictures, an under 
garment of some different colour, and a great sword sus- 
pended on an embroidered belt. The other pictures repre- 
sent hunting and fighting between Moors and Christians. 

From this hall a charming view is obtained of the Court 
of Lions, the arches of which seen from this point cross each 
other in the most curious manner, their numberless little 
marble columns forming quite a grove. Opposite to the 
Hall of the Abencerrages is the Hall of the Two Sisters, so 
called from two large marble plates in the flooring, of 
equal size. It is one third larger than the Hall of Justice, 
perhaps a little richer in ornament, especially in its fine 
lattice-windows from which the hauras of the harem could 
look at the festival celebrated in the hall. In the alcoves 
of this hall on the right and left are stone divans adorned 
with azulejos, the drawings of which are exquisite. 



GRANADA. 269 

Here also is a fountain. Opposite the entrance is a 
wide arch, opening upon a magnificent gallery with a 
balcony supported on columns and low arches, and from 
which an interior garden can be seen, blooming with the 
orange, the myrtle, and the rose. This balcony is called 
El Tocador de la Lindaraja, and was the toilet-room of 
Lindaraja, a lady of the court, and also the lady-love of 
one of the kings. This is the jewel of the Alhambra, the 
gem of this fairy residence, combining in itself all that is 
beautiful in Moorish art, both in colour and form. The 
ceiling is a transparent net-work, amidst which are inter- 
woven the most beautiful verses. Looking out from all 
this brilliant gold-work, the eye is feasted with the freshly 
watered orange trees, and with roses bedewed with the 
moisture falling from a lofty fountain. This little Eden is 
completely cut off from the world, and the enraptured eye 
glances upwards from the flowers to the deep blue firma- 
ment, a fit place for lovers, so protected is it and so still. 

The rooms of Charles V. in the summer palace have 
been arranged for him, according to his taste. Here he 
lived, for his magnificent palace was never finished. By 
the side of the Oriental splendour around, his palace is cold 
and prosaic, and contains nothing but heavy, dark wooden 
ceilings, like those in the feudal castles of Germany. 
From the dining-room of the emperor you look into the 
court of Lindaraja, and on the other side, the windows 
look towards the little court with the latticed passage of 
Queen Zoraya, where his poor lunatic mother was im- 
prisoned. For the honour of the great emperor, I hope 
that he never knew for what purpose this cage was used. 
From the rooms of the emperor on the first storey, we 
stepped into an open gallery supported on columns, which 
is situated on the outside wall of the fortress, and leads to 
the neat, bower-like balcony projecting into the Darro 
valley, the airy, open Tocador de la Reina. Probably, no 



270 KECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

other queen in the world ever had such a view from her 
dressing-room. It is a pretty idea to make one's toilet in 
the free mountain air, so utterly secluded and unreached 
by the eye of the world, and yet to have at one's feet the 
whole magnificent valley, the large city, the green and 
golden vega, nay, even the tops of the plantains which 
encircle the Alhambra hill and its lofty walls. The busi- 
ness of dressing without this is a dreamy affair to a woman ; 
in a soft leisure the body is prepared for the coming 
festival, whilst the mind, half mesmerised by the supple 
management of the waving hair, the ambrosian fragrance 
of the perfumes, which, by the way, in this Moorish 
boudoir ascended from below by means of 'small holes in 
the marble floor, floats in a sea of half-unconscious 
thought. 

How delightful must it have been to pass the time in 
this Tocador, under the dominion of thoughts rendered 

o 

pleasant by this luxuriant nursing of the body ! As this 
open airy room projects on three sides from the crown of 
the fortress over the Darro towards the city, one may 
imagine how free, beautiful, and sublime the view is. 
Imagine the loveliness and natural grandeur of the site of 
Ambras combined with the southern richness and fragrance 

o 

of the Moorish country with the kingly view from the 
Hradisch of Prague, and you will get an idea of the picture 
presented by the Alhambra. The interior of the Tocador 
was painted under Ferdinand and Isabella, and discovers 
amidst its ornaments the F and Y of the royal couple. 

In the court of Lindaraja I plucked one of the celebrated 
roses of the Alhambra. Underneath the Tocador of the 
beautiful court lady is the Sala del secreto, a musty room, 
the artful vaulting of which enables you to hear in one 
corner every word whispered in the opposite one. The 
devout and severe Philip II. had it arranged for the 
amusement of his children, intimating that they ought no 



GRANADA. 271 

longer to require to go outside the palace. The banishment 
of the princes during their hours of amusement to such a 
gloomy room, the dismal tricks of which were not fitted to 
replace hours spent in the wood and in the field, was the 
commencement of that Spanish etiquette, which under the 
falling Bourbons worked so sadly, so ridiculously, and with 
such an awfully petrifying effect. This etiquette no longer 
permitted the king to leave the barren Madrid and its 
palaces. Etiquette prohibited them from walking in the 
daytime, by which the night promenades were brought 
about ; it did not allow of balls, banquets, or soirees, and 
the princes could not even visit the theatre except in the 
company of the king. Etiquette is the soul of a court and 
is inevitably attached to every throne ; but the court must 
have the heart to live, and should have all the freshness of 
life and its kindnesses. One need not amuse oneself at the 
court, there are other opportunities for that, but one 
should feel elevated by the impressions received in the 
palace, overawed now and then by the splendour of 
majesty, but tediousness should never be felt, for in 
tediousness everything perishes as in a Dead Sea. Life 
dies, and with it progress, as we are unfortunately taught 
by the history of poor, beautiful Spain. 

In an architectural point of view the baths are very 
interesting. They will be shortly restored. In a large 
ante-room divided into compartments separated from one 
another by arches, it was the custom to prepare for the 
bath as in the East, and one went through a process of 
kneading and mesmerising at the hands of a slave, and 
then entered a farther room which contained basins on 
either hand from the pores of which the steam issued. 
There were also the bathing places set aside for the 
children, adjacent to those of the king and his sultana. 
The room in which they rested after the bath, is in the 
highest style of Moorish luxury. A gallery runs round 



272 KECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

the room, from which music issued to lull the royal 
personage to repose. This room of wonderful loveliness 
has just been most perfectly restored. In form it greatly 
resembles a very small court in the Alcazar of Seville, 
likewise lately restored. 

In a vault not far from the bath are the two somewhat 
immodest statues described by Washington Irving. Their 
watchful look is directed on that spot where the Moors are 
said to have buried immense treasures before their flight. 
Unfortunately these treasures have not yet been discovered. 
Projecting over the valley of the Darro is a tower of the 
Alhambra, called, after a son of Boabdil, the Comares 
Tower, because that king, who according to all accounts 
was a regular tyrant, had his son incarcerated there on 
account of a dream. With the assistance of Zoraya, his 
mother, he escaped through a window. The other son 
Omer, Boabdil banished from the Alhambra and built for 
him a palace, the Generalife, on the hill Silia del Moro on 
which, by the way, are still traces of a Eoman town. He 
banished him because Omer was too fond of playing on 
the fiddle, which made the little king nervous. How 
many princely younger sons would be seized with a passion 
for fiddling, if by these means they could get such a 
charming palace as the Generalife ! The Moors prayed in 
the Sala de la Misericordia before they entered the mosque, 
which under Charles V. was transformed into a chapel. 

In a gallery of the myrtle court opposite that visited 
before, we found a visitors' book, in which amongst the 
first names is that of Washington Irving, and the respected 
name of the Countess Ida Hahn-Hahn. From this, one 
enters into the hall of the ambassadors, Sala de los 
Embaj adores, which is in the Comares Tower. Here one 
finds the utmost luxury and richness, the space largest, 
the vault the most lofty, the view from the many bal- 
conies the most charming ; and the whole hall replete with 



GRANADA. 273 

gold hangs over the valley in architectural contrast with it. 
On the outside the tower is rough, without adornment, and 
capable of defying centuries ; inside is the room, lighted 
by numerous windows from the cupola windows, which is 
the real throne room in all its Oriental fanciful splendour. 
Azulejos and clay slabs, richer in ornament than ever, 
cover the wide walls, whilst the floor is ornamented with 
arabesques, and from the ceiling, finely carved in cedar- 
wood, shine great pieces of mother-of-pearl, like a starry sky 
in daytime. In this really princely room, perhaps the only 
one which responded to the King's idea, it was a delight 
to step out on the balconies with their double arches and 
to admire the fairy-like splendour on one side and the 
beautiful world of Granada before me. From the height 
of this tower one enjoys the most perfect view all round, 
and here towards the East we were shown by the cicerone 
the hill del ultimo sospiro del Moro ; the last point from 
which Abu Abdillah defeated and retreating could see his 
fairy-like Alhambra ; here he paused for a time and the 
tears trickled down his face. One can enter into his 
feelings and sympathise with his agony of grief. 

To-day before leaving these enchanted courts we were 
shown, in a room of the myrtle court, a very fine Moorish 
vase, similar to a Eoman amphora, without a pedestal, 
which, with an old chest, provided with curious locks, and 
in which were once kept the great treasures, are the only 
things still remaining from the time of the Moors. In this 
room are kept, not very carefully, the Moorish archives, 
which, if made use of before they are destroyed, would 
certainly yield much interesting information. We now 
passed through the myrtle court to the palace of Charles V. 

The imperial palace encloses a large elliptical yard, 
surrounded on the ground-floor and on the first storey by 
colonnades. At festivals, it seems to be used for bull- 
fights, as it bears the grand stamp of an arena. Its nume- 

VOL. I. T 



274 KECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

rous columns are formed out of a composition called pasta 
almendrada, which looks like decayed marble. There are 
rooms and staircases all round this colonnade. One can 
hardly speak of anything in connection with this palace 
but windows and doors, for there is scarcely anything else. 
Fresh weeds grew close to a badly-smelling cistern. The 
steps are effeminately easy of ascent, probably constructed 
in that fashion intentionally, and because of the gout from 
which the Emperor suffered. 

Except at the plantations of Canosa in Dalmatia, I have 
never yet seen any vines at once so large and so fresh as 
there are here. Who may not have tasted of them ? 
Perhaps I may have eaten from the same vine as Philip 
the Second. 

We mounted the Torre de la Vela, in which there is an 
inscription to the effect that the Christian flag was 
mounted here on January 2, ] 492. The bell in this tower 
is rung with the greatest assiduity by the girls of the 
neighbourhood every 2nd of January, tradition promising 
them a husband within the year in which they perform 
that ceremony. Every evening after sunset the bell is 
also rung as a signal to water the vega, an institution 
dating from the Moors, and to which the country owes its 
rich harvests. 

The Grate of Justice in the outside walls is very in- 
teresting. On one of its horse-shoe arches is a hand, and 
on the portal a key, hewn in stone, respecting which the 
following tradition is current : Granada was not to be con- 
quered by the Christians till that key was taken by that 
hand. Nevertheless, the victorious Ferdinand passed 
through that gate with his royal consort. A similar 
tradition prevails in regard to Stamboul and Sion. When 
will the Christians there make a triumphal entry, and 
destroy the Mohammedan superstition ? In Stamboul, this 
may soon come about, for personal advantage prompts a 



GRANADA. 275 

solution, but it is far different with Sion ; for that work 
true Christians are required, such as are not produced iii 
this century, in whom poetry and faith have been destroyed 
by steam and its consequences. The Land of Promise of 
this age is San Francisco, to which thousands of pilgrims 
wander. 

But to return to the Hill of the Alhambra, to reach which 
we passed through orchards and kitchen gardens, (for even 
the inmates of this fairy residence eat cabbages and carrots, 
and cannot live on poetry and the smell of roses,) to the 
Tower of the Infantas. 

This tower contains a principal room, richly ornamented, 
which, as is often the case amongst the Moors, breaks 
through two stories, out of the upper one of which are more 
rooms. It was used as a residence by three sisters, Saida, 
Zoraida, and Sulima, with their governess Soraya. They 
were the daughters of a king who loved them so much that 
he tried to prevent their marriage by incarcerating them in 
this tower, and secluding them from the world. But love 
knows no obstacles, and man yearns for the forbidden. 
Two young knights, who were imprisoned in the Eed 
Tower, effected their escape, and by means of a rope-ladder 
liberated their two imprisoned sweethearts. The youngest, 
Sulima, who was yet too young to know much about love, 
in the first instance opposed the elopement. She wished 
to remain obedient to her father's will, for liberty had not 
the same attractions for her. Her sisters, however, managed 
to persuade her to escape with them, and with the 
governess to descend the rope-ladder. Away they went on 
horseback, at full speed, across the vega. The governess, 
unused to such expeditions, fell and broke her leg. There 
was one encumbrance the less. Evening set in ; the sun 
went down behind the blue hazy hills, shedding a parting 
ray on the proud Castle of the Caliphs. Then all was 
consternation and mourning, for the king missed his 

T 2 



276 KECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

jewels, the pride of his heart, The bell of the Torre de la 
Vela rang out, and when its sound was heard by the faith- 
ful, fires were lighted on the tops of all the hills. But the 
lovers rode on swift horses, and love itself has swifter 
wings, and when the fires had died out, the three Moor- 
ish Infantas were beyond the reach of their pursuers. 
The moral of this story is, that a father's love may be too 
tender. 

Driving through the city we were shown two in- 
teresting buildings ; the church in which the Moors were 
baptized, and the house of Sidia Yerriaga, the inventor of 
cannons. From out of the windows of the top storey some 
culverins still protrude, and every possessor of this house 
has with it the right to fire them off at any time, a privilege 
not particularly agreeable to his immediate neighbours. 

Our road led us to the garden of Yarto Eeal, the garden 
of Zumera, the mother of the last Moorish king. It is a 
place of marvellous loveliness and quiet, now the property 
of a Marquis, whose powdered ancestors look strangely out 
of harmony in the Moorish Trianon which looks upon the 
garden through a wide saloon and hall. 

What I most coveted here were the laurels, upwards of a 
hundred years old, trained to meet over one's head, and 
under whose green vault fountains played and dispensed 
freshness through the house. The Moorish religion per- 
mitted enjoyment in its fullest extent. Wherever their 
dominion extended, nature opened up to them its richest 
treasures, which their Oriental fancy knew how to improve. 
There may be some who think that these fountains, 
cascades, water-courses, canals and basins, all these ascend- 
ing and descending streams of water, this diamond shower, 
these silver mirrors reflecting myriads of flowers, unworthy 
of attention and childish, but to me they appear excellently 
suited to the climate, refreshing the eye, and exercising a 
peculiar charm. 



GRANADA. 277 

How contrary to all this nature is the absurdly puffed- 
up spirit of the days of wigs. This spirit one notes in 
the overloaded church of Santa Maria de las Angustias. 
Wonderful, here, is the serious face of the Madonna bend- 
ing her pale marble forehead over the body of the 
Eedeemer. A black and gold mantle envelopes her 
figure, the attitude of which is mourning whilst her head 
is encircled by a clumsy crown. Though the ornament is 
heavy yet the dark mantle heightens the effect of the 
image of the Queen of Heaven. I stepped up behind the 
altar that I might see and admire the sad face more closely, 
and I expected almost to see a warm tear roll down the 
pale face. The veneration felt for this picture, with its 
touching name, is general ; it has been everywhere copied, 
and a copy of it is even placed in the church of Malaga ; 
it is said that great miracles have been worked by it and 
one of these only two years ago. It was very dry and the 
harvest threatened to fail, the vega thirsted for rain, and 
all the waters were dried up. At this critical time the 
people applied to the Mother of God for her intercession, 
and the image of Santa Maria de las Angustias was carried 
through the city in solemn procession, and amidst fervent 
prayers. Scarcely had this taken place when Heaven took 
pity and sent refreshing rain upon the golden plain. An- 
other instance of the devout mind of the Spaniards is to be 
found ID a large and splendid hospital and church of St. 
Juan de Dios, which this saint, born in 1495 at Montemor- 
o-Novo, a small Portuguese town, was enabled to found by 
begging, and which afterwards served as a model to all 
other hospitals. It has spacious premises which are still 
used for the same pious purposes for which they were in- 
stituted by the holy founder of the Merciful Brothers, and 
it remains a remarkable evidence of what an inspired 
man may do. 

The body of the saint reposes in a sanctuary behind the 



278 EECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

church. Formerly it was preserved in a silver sarcophagus, 
but Marshal Soult, unfortunately, took notice of it and re- 
moved it as he did so many other things. Now poor Juan 
de Dios lies in a wooden coffin, in the midst of gold and 
marble splendour. But why does he require any orna- 
ment ? his best ornament is the immense useful building, 
the directors of which, however, were secularised like all 
other male convents by most atrocious injustice of the re- 
volutionary rulers in the year 1835. A letter and a simple 
bread-basket of the saint are still exhibited. In this 
sanctuary is an interesting collection of portraits of all 
the sainted crowned heads, of whom there is a wonderfully 
great number. I saw with much pleasure that our mon- 
archy was well represented in this company. 

The wide, shady alameda, with its splendid avenues, is a 
beautiful ornament of Granada, of that Granada which, in 
the south of golden Spain, is the spot where the power- 
ful black eye has a deeper meaning than anywhere else. 
Granada, watered by the rich springs of the Sierra Nevada, 
is the only place on the southern Peninsula which never 
loses its spring freshness in the summer. At the entrance 
of the fine wide promenade stands a chapel, historically 
remarkable though mean-looking, which is covered with 
inscriptions in stone and built on the spot where the Catho- 
lic conqueror embraced the conquered Abu Abdillah. The 
Moorish king fled to the sea and bewailed in the deserts 
of Africa the glorious days of Granada, and Ferdinand 
entered the golden rooms of the Alhambra as master 
of the Peninsula. How dearly the Moors loved the Al- 
hambra, their most charming work, may be judged of from 
the circumstance that poor Abu Abdillah could not make 
up his mind to leave his palace by the principal gate, but, 
bowed down by grief, went out to meet his conqueror 
through a side-door. 

We concluded the dav with an excursion with a few visi- 



GRANADA. 279 

tors. On the right bank of the Darro, opposite the Alhambra, 
is a rough slope covered with fancifully pronged cactus 
plants called Las Cuevas del Sacro Monte. Seen from the 
height of Tocador de la Reina everything seems dead, and 
the visitor expects at most to look out upon the caves of 
reptiles underneath this wide rough cactus wood ; and yet 
it is a Troglodyte town with several hundred inhabitants 
and with life hiding under the steep sides of the hill. In 
the daytime all is still and quiet, and when the sun shines 
it is night in the Cuevas del Sacro Monte, and there is no- 
thing to betray any life in the cactus hill ; but when the 
first bats soar through the twilight, and when the last ray 
of the sun disappears over the mountains of the Sierra 
Nevada, then day commences in the cactus wood ; a great 
number of figures glide from the sides of the hill through 
the narrow paths between the plants, the sound of the 
tambourine and of singing proclaims to the drowsy city that 
the Troglodytes are awake. 

Numerous dark entrances to the caves of the Gritanos 
are visible in the dense prickly hedges. These dark 
chambers in the earth, devoid of light and air, smoky 
rooms in which bandits and beasts live in patriarchal 
simplicity, are formed by digging out the soft clay. 
Egress and ingress is alone to be obtained through an 
opening surrounded with the cactus. On entering one of 
these caves a warm stifling air sickens you ; and the eye 
requires time to discern anything in the night of these 
caves. Groaning and grunting inform you that you are 
in proximity with a pig and the dirty sickbed ofaGritano. 
Broken cooking utensils stand on the glowing coals, and 
the smoke only finds egress by the same openings as 
ourselves. Eags hang against the black sooty walls ; whilst 
onions and garlic form the treasures of the larder. When, 
after sunset, we entered the cave-town, the male population 
were already gone to Granada to profit during the coming 



280 KECOLLECTIOXS OF MY LIFE. 

night by theft and robbery ; brown female figures and 
wild lively children crouched, crying and screaming, before 
their dens. Many stared in astonishment at decently 
dressed foreigners approaching this thief-district; others 
indolently allowed us to walk about, heedless of the 
unusual evening visit. 

I was much interested by this sight : close to a rich 
populous city I was transplanted as by a charm into a 
novel of the middle ages, when witches lived on the earth, 
when gnomes housed in the clefts of the mountains ; or 
to the savages of primitive countries, who scratch up 
the earth like badgers to find warmth and a dwelling 
in it. These Gitanos, wherever they appear on the wide 
earth, carry a mysterious romance along with them ! In 
England they choose their unknown king, and travel to 
the fairs to cheat the people ; in Hungary they live, not- 
withstanding the government, as unsettled nomades ; in 
the golden Peninsula the tambourine sounds in their 
hands ; the glowing eyes of their daughters ensnare the 
heart, and when the cheated world has enjoyed their wild 
dance, then the children of the Ganges with bloody 
daggers and shining gold glide back into the caves of Sacro 
Monte to hide from the eye. And there, withdrawn for 
ever from the eyes of the world, may lie in these dark 
earthy holes many stolen goods, and much treasure. 

Eemembering the dark arts in which these people are 
said to deal I asked the women through one of our 
ciceroni whether any of them could disclose the future 
from the lines of our hands. None would acknowledge 
this art, until at last, and after much seeking, a woman 
took W. . ,'s fine white hand and repeated to him a little 
verse in which he was given to understand that he would 
eat white bread, and that health and long life were allotted 
to him. It was already night when we returned to 
Granada through the narrow, prickly, uneasy walks of the 



GRANADA. 281 

Troglodyte town, which ought to be visited by Eugene 
Sue. 

Granada: Oct. 2, 1851. 

Our first ramble to-day was again to the wonderful fairy 
palace where I enjoyed at leisure what I had looked upon 
yesterday with astonishment. Our request to the governor 
of the Alhambra had succeeded so far, that he suffered 
the fountains in some of the courts and rooms to play. 
Though in consequence of repairs of the pipes, the water 
was not quite clear and pure, one could hear it murmuring 
through the golden halls and saw it merrily rippling 
through the marble floor. Here I must say ' peccavi ' to 
the reader for an offence half poetical, half childish. There 
was in the inn where we lived a kind of clever Cretin who 
very cleverly imitated the voices of animals. I had read 
that above us where the myrtle bloomed and roses poured 
cut their fragrance, the nightingales sang splendidly in 
spring ; this I desired to hear though it was autumn. The 
Cretin had been taken to the Alhambra, and we hid him in 
the green bushes of the myrtle court, and the song of 
the nightingale soon sounded loudly and powerfully. 
Delighted I stood by the side of a murmuring fountain, 
but suddenly the rascal made fools of us and we heard the 
voice of a turkey-cock from the myrtle grove. This was 
a punishment for attempting to force the enjoyment of 
nature ; and since I would hear the nightingale in October 
I must have into the bargain the gobbling of a turkey-cock. 
Too soon, alas, we had to say good-bye to the beautiful 
Alhambra, and drove up to the Generalise, the chateau of 
Omer the fiddler. This palace, built on a smaller scale, 
lies higher than the Alhambra. The fresh green of the 
mountain serves it as a background ; and from the outside 
its tower-like shape gives it more the aspect of a cloister 
than a villa. A very fine portico leads from the prin- 
cipal room into the long narrow garden parterre, in which 






282 RECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

an abundance of flowers is intersected with fresh-water 
channels. Along the parterre is a bower from which one 
has a view of the world. Here everything is Oriental, 
solitary and secluded, but a paradise of flowers and poetry 
for the possessor. 

Amidst these still and romantic gardens in which one 
might dream away life, rises an old cypress, under which 
the sultana Zuraja was said to have seen the Abencerrages. 
Up the hill and under laurel hedges and rich leafy trees is 
a staircase, the banisters of which are made to form narrow 
and regular cascades, a poetical idea which ought to be im- 
itated in our gardens. On the highest point of the garden 
is a modern kiosk, from which one has an extensive view. 
This is the true point from which to understand the site 
and position of the Alhambra : standing higher than the 
Alhambra one has a bird's-eye view into the Moorish fort- 
ress and can see how large a space it occupies on the hill, 
how many towers run round it, and how many different 
buildings that curious citadel contains. The finest and 
most picturesque point is, without doubt, that which is 
occupied by the summer residence ; it stands out proudly 
with its Comares Tower. From this point it affords to 
the city of Granada and to the wide vega, a perfectly 
intelligible picture of the medieval loop-holed feudal 
castles, with their irregular towers. One is transplanted to 
Germany, so strong is the appearance of the old reddish- 
tinted castle. It stretches itself along on the opposite side, 
protected against the looks of the outside world by walls 
all round, and is seated on the high plateau in the midst of 
which stands the rocky fortress-palace of Charles V. 

Behind these buildings, in a western direction from the 
Generalife, are gardens and fields; the convent of San 
Francisco with its huerta ; the present parish-church Santa 
Maria ; the ruins of the Mufti palace, and separate villas 
and smaller buildings. Eastward, fronting the palace of 



GEANADA. 283 

Charles V. at the sharp corner of the hill towards the city, is 
the Alcazaba with the Torre de Homenaje, the Armeria, the 
Torre de la Vela, and de la Polvareda, forming a complete 
whole. Immediately before the palace of the Emperor is 
the Plaza de los Algibes, where the celebrated cisterns stand 
close to a steep slope. On the other side of the Darro, far 
above the Cuevas del Sacro Monte, is a wide mountainous 
country, amidst which the cicerone pointed out to us, las 
Cuevas del Diabolo, the devil's caves ; robbers and murder- 
ers inhabit these caves, and the country around is so 
watched by them and so dangerous, that not even the 
Spanish police dare to go amongst them. How much I 
regretted that the shortness of my sojourn in Granada did 
not afford me an opportunity of becoming more nearly 
acquainted with the prince of darkness and his bloodthirsty 
children. I am convinced that they are not so dark as 
they are painted. 

In the inner rooms of the Generalife are some pictures 
of great historical interest. There one sees the portraits of 

Philip L, Philip IL, Philip III., and Philip IV., and their 
wives, those of Ferdinand and Isabella, and of several 
Moorish princes, amongst whom is a white-bearded aged 
man, Muza, an uncle of Boabdil. But as a sailor I was 
more interested in the pictures of the ships in which the 
great Columbus made his discovery. Navigators of the 
present time would be altogether startled at the shape of 
these vessels ; and would scarcely have ventured with them 
along a secure coast from harbour to harbour. This en- 
ables us to appreciate the difficulties with which the iron 
Columbus had to contend. 

We now quitted the Generalife, which the Duke of Mont- 
pensier intended to buy from a Marquis residing in Genoa, 
but family laws did not permit the Marquis to sell it. The 
palace is now empty and forsaken, and has a melancholy 
romance about it ; what might it not have been if the duke 



284 KECOLLECTIOXS OF MY LIFE. 

had tried his taste on a place so splendidly situated ! We 
drove to the celebrated Cartuja, and on our road to the 
city to two interesting places : the house of the Inqui- 
sition and the place of the Triunfo, a wide open place 
planted with trees and bushes ; on which encamped 
70,000 men, the mighty army of the royal Catholic couple. 
In the middle of it was erected a column of victory. Here 
was also a large palace for the royal conquerors which, 
tempora mutantur I has become subsequently a lunatic 
asylum. 

The Cartuja is built on a hill commanding a fine view. 
The large church is rococo ; the courts are empty, for the 
monks had to go out into the world at the time of the 
revolution, a class of unfortunate, unemployed, therefore 
despised ecclesiastics. Some horribly painted pictures are 
the only things which now intimate the past life of the 
order and the former destination of the building. Of the 
refectory there remain only four bare, high, long walls ; 
ghostly stillness reigns in the wide courts, and a large 
brown cross painted on the wall is the only remaining 
emblem in the forsaken hall. I wonder whether at the 
midnight bell, when the moon throws her pale light through 
these windows, the ghosts of the deceased monks so barba- 
rously driven away, assemble here in their white rustling 
gowns, their grinning skulls topped with their small 
pointed cowls ; and whether according to their old habit 
they eat their meat here in a dreadful seriousness, with 
rattling jaws and clattering bones ? If there is such a 
thing as haunting in the world, as seems to be admitted 
by some, it takes place certainly in forsaken cloisters, 
where the wind howls through the long bare passages, 
where the bells only ring in a storm, the mouldy doors of 
the cells creak on their hinges, and the organ in the choir 
sighs and groans. 

The only things worth seeing in this wide building are 



MALAGA. 285 

the splendid marble ornaments in the church and its 
chapels, the elaborate wood-work and the mother-of-pearl 
and tortoiseshell on the principal door. The tortoiseshell 
and wood surfaces seem to be only painted, so excellently 
are the different materials joined. A poor family, with 
their little ragged children, are the only guardians of 
the cloister. The father was dying, and the little circle 
was mourning and in trouble. How sad everything seems 
in this world, why is everything so perishable, and created 
with the germ of death in it ? By this time the guardian 
of the proud Cartuja is probably mouldering away. 

Keturned to our fonda, we once again enjoyed the 
splendid fruits of the richest plain of golden Spain, and 
then with a heavy heart we entered our carriage, and said 
good-by to Granada and rattled towards Loja. Thankful, 
and yet low-spirited, I frequently looked out of the window 
back upon the Alhambra. 

Malaga: Oct. 3, 1851. 

From Loja we ascended the mountains, whilst asleep. We 
did not forget to put up again with the handsome Murillo 
family, and arrived after a ride of several hours at ftie last 
mountain ridge, from which we had a splendid view of the 
Mediterranean, nay, even of the coast of Africa. In Malaga, 
though we were in October, we experienced a South 
African heat, and a surprising reception from our consul 
and the governor of the island, the latter inviting me in 
artless innocence to receive in the palace on the birthday 
of the king next day, in place of His Majesty, the con- 
gratulation of the grandees of the city and province. One 
may imagine that, not a little afraid, I declined this odd 
proposition, and having rid myself of these Spanish honours, 
I glided gladly over the waves and back to our beloved 
frigate, beneath the cool evening breeze and charming 
moonshine, and such a play of colours at twilight as can 
only be admired in Malaga. 



286 RECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

Malaga: Oct. 4, 1851. 

The thunder of cannons from the shore early this 
morning proclaimed the commencement of the celebration 
for Pacho, a word which in Spain is used for Francisco, 
and by which name the consort of the queen is called by 
the people Flags were everywhere hoisted in city and 
port, and all the bells sounded. Over the sea, too, 
thundered the guns ; the mighty frigate sent forth its 
lightnings and the white smoke majestically rolled across 
the smooth endless mirror of the sea. Though a response 
to the festive signals of the country, our salutes, mass, 
and Te Deum were also meant for our own high festival at 
home, which we celebrated on our little piece of floating 
Austria with all our heart, and with the love of faithful 
subjects. 

To-day I went on shore for a few hours under a glowing 
heat, over dusty roads, with edges filled with red geranium, 
to the cemetery of the city which I had seen from the hills, 
and which I imagined to be interesting. Already depressed 
by the heat I was utterly disappointed on my arrival. 
The cemetery is without ornament and without poetry ; 
instead of in graves, the dead are here placed inside a broad 
surrounding wall, into which the coffins are shoved one 
over the other. But the covering layer of briars which 
separates one from another not being there, a disgusting 
smell spread around the neighbourhood of the more recent 
graves, which cannot but be unhealthy, amidst such a heat. 

Malaga: Oct. 5, 1851. 

We passed this beautiful day in a very pleasant manner. 
We had hired horses to visit the heights which surround 
Malaga, and on which Buen Eetiro is situated. Away we 
went, in spite of the heat, in a sailor-like gallop. The 
wild horde were constantly jo king at their queer situations, 
dashing through a high field of reeds, across which the 



MALAGA. 287 

road led as through the grasses of the American savannahs. 
We had to cross a river, which was not very favourable to 
our toilet, already considerably damaged, and ascend a 
height where a small village is situated, a kind of Hietzing 
of the people of Malaga. 

At an inn with a broad terrace and beautiful view 
we ordered breakfast. The distance from Malaga to this 
place we had made in a fabulously short time, to which 
our continuous and rapid ride contributed. I cannot ride 
slowly, to trot is wretched, a full gallop delightful, one 
breathes easier, is careless about the heat ; no longer 
belongs to this weak earth ; laughs at obstacles ; throws all 
one's life into the enjoyment of the moment; conceives 
something of the delight of flying, and is inclined to fancy 
oneself almost master of the world. We visited the garden 
of the Prussian consul, distinguished by an abundance of 
flowers and by a splendid palm ; even now in October, every- 
thing is brilliant in fresh lively colours, delightful in its 
balmy fragrance, as it is with us in the month of June. 
Happy, beautiful country, with an eternally mild climate ! 
how the heart of those who have to drag their life through 
the cold winter longs for thee. How readily one forgets the 
heat, compared with the deadly cold of benumbing winter. 
Yes, you in the north have no idea of the delight of the 
south, you cannot imagine the joy of the soul beneath the 
dark-blue wide sky, shining over the limitless azure sea ; 
and perhaps it is better for you not to know it, so that the 
melancholy remembrance of a paradise once enjoyed does 
not sadden your heart. The south with its charms has 
captivated me altogether, and little by little a good climate 
has become a necessity to me. Those days passed in warm 
countries in the midst of a vegetation rich in flowers and 
blossoms, are coveted by me amongst the most beautiful of 
my life. In the south one lives twice ; the spirit easily 
stirred becomes richer and fuller ; the body which in the 



288 RECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

north is rendered inflexible by ice and iron becomes in the 
sun only flesh and blood. 

Once more on horseback we dashed over rocks, between 
tall prickly aloe plants, to the Buen Retiro. Indeed, no 
place in the world better deserves this fine sounding name. 
It is a summer residence reposing amidst the green of the cy- 
press, amidst rose-hedges and orange-trees, and containing 
everything which the world can offer in loveliness. Situ- 
ated on a height, a wide regular terrace is stretched out 
before the windows of the ground floor; from which is 
obtained a splendid view of the old rich city with its 
high-towering cathedral, the nobly-formed mountains of 
the Sierra Nevada, and the calm peaceable sea. On the 
terrace itself bloom numberless trees, amongst which 
glitter statues and fountains in the old pompous style. 

As night approached we returned, the moon shone in 
the blue firmament, and amidst the sound of the guitar 
and the song, the Majo returned in pleasant company 
with his black-eyed Manola from the country to the city. 
You already know what the Majo is ; and the Manola is 
the fair girl to whom the Majo plays his guitar, and 
under whose windows he sighs. There are also Majas, 
who are the lionesses of the lower classes, who exhibit 
themselves on Sunday in rich national costume, and who 
dance the charming bolero with their cavaliers to the 
rattling of the castanets. Since the bull-fights have 
again become fashionable in Madrid, five ladies of the 
highest rank have appeared as Majas with richly-laced 
bodices and black lace veils ! 

Port of Cartagena : Oct. 14, 1851. 

With a heavy heart we raised our anchor in Malaga on 
October 7, and took leave of beautiful Spain, of this coun- 
try of golden dreams and sweet longings ; and as if fate 
were disposed to make our separation still more difficult, 
a calm of several days' extent fell on us, after we had made 



CAKTAGENA. 039 

but a few miles with great difficulty ; Malaga and the 
mountains of Granada were before our eyes, and yet we 
could not lower a boat, for ever) 7 moment a breeze might 
spring up to chase away our enchanted ship. At last, a 
light evening breeze sprang up, and Malaga disappeared 
before our eyes. During the calm, an epidemic did 
much havoc on board our vessel, carrying off several 
victims every day; but thank God, the disease was not 
amongst the men, but amongst the chickens ; the ranks 
of our noble ones were thinned by grim death, and the 
big hen-coop was soon an empty temple. In conside- 
ration of this misfortune, and our long voyage without a 
pause to the coast of our own country, it was very wise of 
our commander to run in to Cartagena, to provide our 
ship with fresh supplies. At seven o'clock, p. M., just before 
dusk, we entered this important port, which, on account of 
two rocks underneath the surface of the water, is not 
without danger to those entering and leaving the port. 
On the second cliff in the interior of the basin, a low iron 
bar has been fixed as in the botanical garden, where the 
plants are more than usually interesting. Cartagena, 
little Carthage, according to tradition built by Hannibal, 
exhibits a red tower on the sandhill, belonging to the period 
of its foundation, and was once the pride of the Spanish 
navy. From this port in the days of Spanish glory, the 
armadas issued which were built in this splendid arsenal. 
In this harbour, the red and yellow flag of Castile, if 
threatened by the enemy, might take refuge, protected by 
cliffs and rocks. Now it has outlived its proud days, is 
empty and deserted, and is decaying with an ever-in- 
creasing rapidity. Spain's once gigantic navy was des- 
troyed by the English ; the eighty-six ships of the line she 
possessed before 1806 have been burned, sunk, or have 
rotted, and the navy which is now springing up is happy 
in numbering even four or five of them ; but the ships 
VOL. i. u 



290 RECOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. 

now built are constructed with great trouble in Ferrol or 
Carraca, so that from the great arsenal of Cartagena, 
where once a thousand workmen were employed, at this 
moment only a single brig is being fitted out. 

Cartagena: October 15, 1851. 

Poor Cartagena is everywhere yellow ; the rocks are 
yellow, the houses, and the people, and nowhere is green to 
be seen to comfort the tired eye. As Prince Puckler, with 
his philosophical wit, asserts in his letters of a deceased, 
that for each day of the week a colour was involuntarily pre- 
sent to his mind, so I felt the same in reference to the recol- 
lection of certain cities : at Venice I think of the dark red 
of the marble ; at Granada, of the smiling green ; at Cadiz, 
of the swan-like white ; at Constantinople, of glittering 
gold ; at Kome, of violet and blue ; at Munich, of forget- 
me-not blue ; and at Cartagena, of the bare, jejune yellow. 
The steep rocks reach to the entrance of the city, there 
they slope off, and behind them is nothing. There I hoped 
at least to find a fresh green Huerta, but in that also I 
was miserably disappointed, for a wide dusty plain extends 
from the opposite walls of the city, to the far mountains, 
behind which is the kingdom of Murcia. The arsenal, 
situated on the left side of the city, is noticeable from a 
fine and spacious basin surrounded by brickwork, in which 
a whole fleet, cutting through the Channel, might anchor 
safely. The churches of Cartagena are ugly, the streets 
dirty, and of the buildings the palace of the Admiralty is 
the only one worthy of notice. The old castle exhibits only 
decayed walls and is a dismal sight. On the bastions we 
were amazed by the mechanical drill of the poor recruits 
who at the sounds of uno dos, which the whole row had to 
repeat after the drill master, were taught how to march 
very artificially ; the mode of saluting in rank and file was 
also drilled into them with singular inclinations of the 






CARTAGENA. 291 

body. The Spanish troops, who seem to be excellent 
soldiers, are very proud of their marching, in which they 
show a very great perseverance. A double gate leads 
from Cartagena to the sea, through the left division of 
which, however, one is not permitted to pass, the sentinels 
compelling the promenaders to walk through the right 
one. This custom not only prevails here but in Cadiz 
also. 

Cartagena: October 16, 1851. 

As Cartagena offers nothing attractive or interesting, I 
availed myself of my last day's stay there to make an ex- 
cursion amongst the cliffs of the sea-shore, to collect shells 
I enjoyed the small bays and grottoes and the foaming 
waves, but my feet suffered, and my boots were torn by 
the sharp edges of the rocks. In one of the small caves 
I found, to my great astonishment, bedded on soft sand, a 
man sleeping, probably it was a smuggler, a tribe, to the 
despair of the government, very numerous here, but if 
there be a country more than another suited for this 
business it must be the coasts of Cartagena. 

Cartagena, October 17, 1851. 

Tired of Cartagena, I remained on board to-day and was 
glad when at six o'clock P.M. the sails were set and our 
homeward voyage commenced. 



END OF THE FIRST VOLUME. 



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Maximilian 

Recollections of my life 



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