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Do you believe that this item violates a copyright? Delivery and Returns see our delivery rates and policies thinking of returning an item? See our Returns Policy. Visit our Help Pages. Only saw the Faro by night. The next morning the 30th stopped at Paola. The coast of Calabria is beautiful in outline, and frequently gloriously green.
On Saturday at 3 A. Early on Sunday, October i, I left in a carriage in company with the painter Stockel, the painter Catell and his wife, and Signorina Giuditta Arnoldis. Agata, the second night at Terracina, the third at Velletri. October 4, reached Genzano in the early morning, and took up my abode in the Casa Mazzoni. On the 6th, continued the Eumenides, and have written eighty verses to-day.
I hope to finish the poem here. Remained in Genzano until October 24, when I returned to my quarters in Rome. Ro M E, January 3 1. Within the last few weeks I have begun to write a Pompeian novel, The Bronze Candelabra, impelled thereto by the sight of a candelabra in the Museum at Naples. To-morrow shall begin to transcribe the Relics of Civilisation in Sicily. Spring came upon me before I was aware of it. The almond blossom is over, the acacias in full bloom. I have been ill for weeks.
Meanwhile Corsica made its appearance. I have translated some poems of Meli, the Sicilian. On May 2, sent the Tombs of the Popes to Cotta. I live entirely alone ; must work hard to keep my head above water. The Court architect, Demmler, from Schwerin, came to visit me, a liberal Mecklenburger ; also the poet, Titus Ulrich, from Berlin, a finely-strung, intellectual man.
On the 8th, went in search of a dwelling for the summer at Genzano — Casa Mazzoni.
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On August lO, began to turn the novel of the Candelabra into hexameters. The poem is to be called Euphorion. Russell Martineau wrote from Scotland begging for my authorisation of his translation of my book Corsica, of which Lord Ellesmere had spoken very favourably in the Quarterly Review, and portions of which he has even translated. I propose to write the history of the city of Rome in the Middle Ages. For this work, it seems to me that I require a special gift, or better, a commission from Jupiter Capitolinus himself I conceived the thought, struck by the view of the city as seen from the bridge leading to the island of S.
I must undertake some- thing great, something that will lend a purpose to my life. I imparted the idea to Dr Braun, secretary to the Archaeological Institute. He listened attentively, and then said, " It is an attempt in which anyone must fail. Casa della Signora Marzia Pellicani, No. On October 5 returned to Rome ; on the 9th, entered my new abode. The street is bad ; the accommodation good — two rooms scantily furnished. Carl von Dietrichs soon returned from Naples. He is very ill. The poet Salvatore Viale, from Bastia, has written to me.
On December 8, the solemn proclamation of the absurd dogma of the Immaculate Conception took place. Festivals and music in the churches every day. Yesterday the great column which is to be erected on the Piazza di Spagna was drawn to the spot by galley- slaves. The basilica of Pope Alexander has been discovered outside the Porta Nomentana. Began the new year with fresh vigour. Have been very energetic. His presence is imposing, resembling that rather of a statesman than a doctor.
I brought away several books from his library. Poor Dietrichs died at five in the afternoon of April I and David Grimm from S. Petersburg were with him. Shortly before his death he asked me to read him some- thing from the Bible. I read the 90th Psalm. He listened with an effort, and then passed away.
An excellent and noble man and a dear friend of mine has departed. The whole of May I worked at the Figuren for Brockhaus, who seems to wish to number me among his clientele. Called on Goethe's grandson, who is Councillor to the Legation here. In conversation he is not so entirely eccentric as are his wholly incredible poems. On his brow, however, stand imprinted his grandfather's lines: With him several cardinals, the French General, the Austrian Count Hoyos, and more than a hundred pupils of the Propaganda were precipitated to the lower story.
The fall of the Papacy is thereby symbolically indicated ; so far, however, the accident has had no sinister consequences. Soon after I saw Pius IX. I take a walk on the Campagna every Sunday with Frey and Muller, the artists, and the sculptor Mayer. The only daughter of Cornelius, the painter, has just married a Count from Cagli. I became acquainted with Cornelius in the osteria beside Trinita dei Monti, and frequently meet him now.
A resolute will is expressed in everything he says and does. Vanity and disparage- ment of others seem to be his failings. He has the eyes of an eagle, and is a genius. Thomas Constable of Edinburgh has offered to publish translations of my writings for his firm. Have written the Letters from Naples for Hacklander's Hausbldtter. Never before have I remained in Rome so far into the summer.
Am kept here by work and by waiting for Cotta's letters. Finished the translations from Meli on June 24, and am now completely master of the hexameter. On the loth drove with Frey, Meyer, and other artists — a merry party — to Castel Fusano. Yesterday evening the young King of Portugal arrived in Rome. He drove in a closed carriage with six horses. I tried to get Giannone's history at the Minerva.
But as the work is on the Index, I was not allowed to do more than turn over the pages beside the librarian. How absurd, in the year ! I am glad of it — glad that he can be stirred by any vigorous resolve — he grows musty in his solitude. A resident in Rome from , Heyse died in Florence in He is the doyen of the Germans here.
I hate Louis Napoleon. He has no genial virtue, is nothing but a legacy-hunter. I dreamt that a pine-tree fell on my writing-table, and that everything was thrown to the ground in confusion. Perhaps Cotta is the pine-tree. My plans are shattered and the dream fulfilled. Cotta declined on the i8th ; on the 19th I wrote to Brockhaus, and on the 21st sent him the translations from Meli. I remain on here in the burning heat.
The Danish paper Fcedrelandet is translating my Romische Figuren. Have been visiting several sculptors' studios — Gibson's, Tenerani's, Achterman's, Imhofs.
Two English translations of Corsica, by Morris and Martineau, have just arrived. I have lately been writing several songs, also the Lament of the Children of Judah in Rome. Opening of the Church of the Minerva — sumptuous though motley decoration. Sham marble is disgraceful in Rome. For five days there was music both in the church and outside it, where the piazza was beautifully illuminated.
The old sculptor Martin Wagner was most amiable to-day. I believe that he occasionally visits people. Once when witty Riedel was walking round the walls of Rome, seeing Wagner coming, he hid himself behind one of the fences that are erected here and there under the walls, for the protection of foot passengers against the oxen, and waited until Wagner had passed. The old bear must have laughed heartily over the incident. A priest standing between God and man is only like a piece of smoked glass through which one may see the sun.
Came across him in the Mausoleum of Augustus, where " Maria Stuart " was acted in Maffei's translation. The day before yesterday drove with him to Tivoli. Naples is in a state of ferment. Mazzini is agitating even here. Everything is in a condition of tension. The cholera is raging in Sardinia. On the 19th drove to Porto d'Anzio and took up my abode with Donna Vittoria in the palace which formerly belonged to Olympia Maldachini. Solitude by the sea.
The cholera is at Porto. Left Nettuno on October i. The day before, my host Felice gave a great dinner. The wine was in glass amphorae two feet high. Worthy old Platner is dead. He is well known as one of the collaborators in the description of the city of Rome, of which he revised the portions dealing with the Middle ' All printed in the posthumous edition of the Gedichte von Ferdinand Gregorovius, published by Count Schack.
He had also been Niebuhr's friend. Have just made the acquaintance of Count Paul Perez of Verona. He was first Professor of Literature in Padua, then after at Gratz. He is a great Dante scholar, with whose descendants he claims kinship through the Serego Alighieri. He came to Rome in order to go through the three years' course of Thomistic philosophy at the Minerva. Perez has a very attractive personality, full of gentleness and sad earnestness.
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Nine sets of proofs of the Figuren arrived from Leipzig. I work in the beautiful hall of the Angelica from eight until twelve o'clock. I shall first look through the materials. These are my most precious hours. Spent a pleasant evening with Cornelius, who lives in beautiful rooms in the Palazzo Poli. His cartoon for the Campo Santo leaves me cold. These allegories have been better treated already. Cornelius is a great artist, but no painter.
He possesses the power clearly to express what he wishes. With him was Professor Balzer, an adherent of the Gunther philosophy or doctrine, who has come here as Counsel for the defence in the trial. Have worked long at the Chronicle of Rome. I drag heaps of borrowed books from Alertz's library or the Capitol to my dwelling.
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How hideous is this Via della Purificazione! The rabble dwell here. This dirty street is called the Ghetto of German artists. He is an imposing personage, tall and strong, with formal manners. Jonas, a painter, writes from Berlin that, stirred by my book, he has determined to visit Corsica to make some studies. Cornelius lately told me during a walk that a woman's mind had never had any influence on his character or creative work. He expressed himself with contempt of women: He valued women merely in a sensuous aspect: On January 2 began to work again in the Angelica. I have gone through the Scriptores of Muratori in order to obtain a general idea of the whole work.
Mr Headly Parish, formerly a diplomat in Constantinople and author of a book on modern Greece, came to see me. He is interesting himself concerning my relations with England. He lives in the Via Magnanapoli, in a palace, but high up under the roof; he is an ungainly-looking old abbe who stammers instead of speaking. He edits the Giornale di Roma, and is a Papist of the purest water. He presented me, it is true, with several brochures, and promised to aid me in my work ; but his promises are mere phrases, for he evidently means to thwart it He maintained there were no documents bearing on the history of the city among the Colonna archives, and this is assuredly untrue.
Concerning my work I say: Fortia agere et pati Ronianum. Old Riepenhausen is dying. I found him in bed, above him the cartoons of his youthful works ; Homer's bust at his head. Thus in solitude he awaits his end. His house- keeper, who has grown old along with him, sat like a sibyl beside his bed. Dr Emil Braun, an overbearing dextrous sophist, will not admit that he has any merits. I hold, however, that in clear sensuousness Sodoma possessed a greatness that approached Titian's. Am reading Gibbon again. His work, Hke Villani's, was inspired by Rome. Bartolomco, in sight of Trastevere and the Imperial palaces.
I no longer remember the date. Prince Corsini, ex-Senator of Rome, died in the beginning of January, ninety years old. He was borne in an open carriage between priests carrying tapers. His colossal head and prominent nose stood out conspicuously. Several carriages with torches followed.
Have often been to see Cornelius. He showed me illustrations of Nicolo Pisano's sculptures on a column in the cathedral of Orvieto — very graceful and inspired poems. Cornelius is a man of acute intellect, as he showed one evening when I propounded as a riddle the question from the Cento Novelle Antiche, where the sages of Alexandria dispute whether, and how, the fumes from a tavern which a poor man had intercepted with his bread were to be paid for.
Cornelius discovered the solution on the spot. On February 24 was obliged to give up my work in the library, because I had lost the necessary energy. I have since spent a gloomy month. Such are the conse- quences of overwork.
March and April are dismal months for me, since the best has passed away. On the i6th I made my will and set my affairs in order. The History of the City of Rome stands over me in the night like some far-off star. Should fate allow me to finish it, no suffering in the world would be too great for me resolutely to endure.
Some days ago I witnessed an entirely classic incident ; one that might have been taken from " The Suppliants " of iEschylus. A thief had fled for refuge to S. A crowd of onlookers and two policemen, clad as civilians, lay in waiting for him outside the barrier of the chapel, but dared not touch him.
The thief sat there, I am told, until the evening. At night the monks allowed him to escape. Called yesterday on Frau von Suckow, who writes under the name of Emma Niendorf. She is the authoress of a well-known book, Lenau in Swabia. She must have been very handsome, and appears amiable and modest. She avowed herself a follower of Justinus Kerner and of his childish theory of Demons. The day before yesterday dreamt that I held the King of Naples, who was flying to heaven on horseback, fast by a rope, and that he pulled so hard I could not stop him.
I afterwards remembered that several years ago at Konigsberg I dreamt that I held the Mediterranean by a rope in the air, and was terribly afraid it might fall and submerge the whole country. I have never had such strange dreams. One night I found myself in the theatre ; instead of actors the walls of Rome appeared on the stage, where they gave a magnificent dance. At the end Iphigenia appeared and addressed a speech to me, I being the only spectator in the building. I remember as a young man I had a dream that was actually prophetic.
Before the Abiturien examination in the Gymnasium at Gumbinnen, I dreamt that the professor gave me the ode Justum ac tenacem propositi virum to explain. As I was going with my fellow-students into the hall on the day of the examination, I told them what, and how I knew what, my task would be.
They laughed at me. Professor Petrany took up the Horace and said, " Turn to the ode Justum ac tenacem propositi virum" My companions looked at me in astonishment, and I passed brilliantly. The Princess Torlonia has gone out of her mind. She is a beautiful woman, a member of the ancient house of Colonna. When the banker gained her hand, he said, " She is an ancient statue, and I have the pedestal of gold on which to place her. On the 14th returned to my folios in the Angelica. I am in vol. Also the songs of Meli of Palermo, which Brockhaus has brought out very well.
Have rewritten Euphorion, and am taking it with me to the mountains in June to prepare it for the press. His father is, at least according to appearances, the model of a highly cultured gentleman ; his wife, the daughter of Massimo d'Azeglio and grand-daughter of Manzoni, a young girlish modest lady — a rarity among Italians. Was at the last evening party at the Palazzo Caffarelli. Cardinals Antonelli, Altieri, and Reisach were there, Antonelli exclusively occupied with women. He is con- sidered a very witty man. Onofrio; the monks would not, however, allow our lady companion to enter, to her great distress.
Prince Giovanni read a discourse, in which he said, that the only reason why Florentines spoke Italian so well was that Florence was not far from Rome. Perez laughed heartily at this. An old and a young poetess recited sonnets. We then had some music, a good violin concerto by Ettore Pinelli and others. Rome frequently will not allow herself to be seen. She conceals herself from the inner sense. I once sat on Monte Mario and there saw Rome.
Rome is the demon with whom I struggle ; should I issue victorious from the contest — that is to say, should I succeed in overcoming this omnipotent and universal being and making her a subject of exhaustive inquiry and artistic treatment for myself — then shall I also be a triumphator. Perez had a happy thought. He has decided to write an essay on the confessions of Augustine, of Marcus Aurelius, and Rousseau. The first, he says, confessed to God, the other as a stoic to himself, the vain Rousseau to the world, whose favour he wooed.
To-day Perez read me the first chapter of his translation of my CorsicUy which he is going to dedicate to the Countess Gozzadini. Pietro ad Vincula with Emma Niendorf and Perez. We afterwards lost our way in a vineyard, and suddenly found ourselves above the ruins of the Baths of Titus. It was curious to look down into the deserted corridors. All around was green, waving grass and roses. Orange trees in flower over the ruins of the Sette Sale.
As it was raining, we took shelter under them. The view over the Coelian is beautiful: Stefano, the ruined aqueduct, then the Colosseum, and behind the Tower of the Capocci rising out of the foliage of the garden. We afterwards went into the Thermae. The rain fell in a melancholy way, like the drippings in a stalactite cave. MAY 28, 29 a picture in fresco , on the ceiling, was lamenting, as in a prison. Have had a lively discussion with Perez on the essence of Italian poetry, in which the German element of yearning and mystery is utterly lacking.
Even Dante does not possess it, although his poem is throughout a Gothic cathedral. Don Michele Gaetani, Duke of Sermoneta, has drawn up a plan of Dante's Hell representing the planetary or spherical system in a chart. This gifted man draws excellently. To-day I received the first letter from the painter Jonas from Corsica. He is enchanted with the beauty of the island. The country has changed during recent years, the land is now cultivated, and no gun or dagger is any longer to be seen.
Napoleon has disarmed Corsica. I was there- fore the last to behold this island of heroes in its wild aspect. Went yesterday to S. Pancrazio to search for the epitaph on Crescentius, but the ancient inscriptions there have disappeared. Shortly before his death Bem wished to see a priest. He, my informant, disguised himself as a Turk, in order to convey the sacraments to the dying man, but when he, with Lesseps, the consul, arrived at Bem's dwelling, the General was dead.
The Pasha consequently caused him to be buried as a Turk. Have been wretched for six days in consequence of a colic, which was cured yesterday by prescriptions given me by my friend Alertz. After the defeat of the rebels in , Bern fled with Kossuth and others to Turkey, was converted to Islam, and served in the Turkish army under the name of Amurath Pasha.
I read with pleasure the ancient language of the Chronicles: Have collected several of the inscriptions from mediaeval tombs ; am enlarging my Tombs, and am making it into a little book. Multum esset scribendum, quod dimitto in calamo. During this hot weather I am obliged to leave the History of the City alone: I am, however, bringing the Tombs down to the thirteenth century. Have gone about but little. Yesterday, accompanied Perez to the Capitol, where we saw the statues of the popes and the curious figure of Charles of Anjou.
The poet Salvatore Viale from Bastia came to see me a short time ago. He presented me with the new edition of the Canti popolari of the Corsicans, and I gave him the Edinburgh translation of my book. Viale is an old man, unmarried, like his brothers, the Pope's physician and the Cardinal. They privately count on the promotion of the Cardinal, who is Bishop of Bologna, to the Papacy.
The Fragments of Agrigentum are printed in the Deutsches Museum. She will be my foster-mother ; a woman of indefatigable industry and loquacity. I have a small room in the attic. It is very hot, and snakes sun themselves on the roof The Campagna sparkles at night with floating lights.
The charm of summer is enchanting. I have found here what I sought — solitude and peace. Perez, who promised to follow me, has not come, having been suddenly summoned to Ferrara. The older a man is, the more does philosophy appeal to him in a moral form. Have finished the Tombs of the Popes. On August 7 drove to Rome to take the MS. Finished the poem Euphorion in this sunny solitude, and have woven into it many of my inmost thoughts and feelings.
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He writes a very illegible hand, almost like hieroglyphics. He has read Corsica aloud to the King.
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Perez wrote at last from the Villa Ronzano, near Bologna. What an enigmatic man! He is going to become a Rosminian in Rome. All was in vain. There is a morbid strain in him which he is obliged to follow blindly. He came at length. He took me by surprise on the evening of September 14, and we spent the night together ; it was exciting and painful.
The next day at noon I accompanied him as far as Palestrina, where I took leave of him on the site of the ancient Temple of Fortune. I lose my best and most intellectual friend in Rome, and for ever. As mementos he left me Giannone, Casti, Layard, and a Virgil from his library. On the 23rd rode with Francesco Romano, a native of the Campagna and a man of gigantic stature, to Anagni. We rested at Pagliano, and reached Anagni in the evening. On the 24th rode to Pagliano, and returned here in the evening. See on this subject p. I have had delightful hours of inspiration in this enchanting spot.
It will soon be seen whether or not this work is ordained me by the grace of God. On Friday 26 returned to Rome. Was greeted by a nice letter from Althaus ; he is a true friend. Have been sad about Perez. On September 28 he took the religious habit. Padre Luigi and Bertetti, General of the Rosminians, have inveigled him into making this sacrifice. Countess Gozzadini wrote to tell me on September 25, and she still hopes that my influence may be strong enough to save him. Saw him yesterday at the Pie di Marmo.
He was with two others, his companions, and already in religious dress. When he saw me he moved and covered his face. I looked at him in sorrow. We made mute signs to one another, and he went on. He is not allowed to speak or write to anyone ; he has surrendered his entire freedom, and to what aim and object?
Yesterday a letter came from Brockhaus, who has accepted the Tombs of the Popes. On the evening of the 28th Cousin Aurora arrived, accompanied by her distinguished compatriot Pauline. It is four years to-day since I came to Rome. I found here that Emil Braun was dead. He was carried off in the beginning of September by malaria. Braun was a sophist, but possessed of traits of genuine liberality and magnanimity.
At nine o'clock this morning, in the fifth year of my sojourn in Rome, in the thirty-fifth of my life and in the eleventh of the reign of Pope Pius IX. It was raining, afterwards it cleared. At sunset I beheld the most magnificent cloud effect from the Colosseum, The sun shed a stream of purple over the ruins on the Palatine. The amphitheatre stood in flames of magic fire.
I had an hour of bliss, and came back in good spirits. Don Giovanni Torlonia said to me with justice that the sonnet had destroyed all naturalness in Italian poetry. Pauline, whom I see every evening, has had a great sorrow. She is noble, serene, and high-minded. Arro- gance, she says, is the fruit that grows on the tree of knowledge, and I replied that that fruit should rather be called humility. Perez has twice written clandestinely in reply to my clandestine notes.
He has made an enigmatic experiment on himself, and has, perhaps from deep-seated melancholy, put himself in fetters for ever. Life is a river, on which some people mad and blind sail in various vessels to the ocean, others remain critically on the shore, and the stream flows on. The year has been good, one of the most productive of my life. I go often to see Caroline Ungher. After Perez' death Gregorovius wrote a detailed account of his friend's history, and his own relations towards him and his family, in the beautiful sketch, " The Villa Ronzano, a seat of the Muses belonging to the Gozzadini of Bologna.
Hers is a powerful and many- sided nature; she still sings with great expression, or, rather, declaims her songs without a voice. One evening Thomas, a Welshman, played the harp at her house very beautifully. Zanth, in company with Hittdorf, editor of the drawings of Sicilian architecture, showed me coloured prints of his Saracen Wilhelma. The names of architects, Cornelius maintains, are less commonly found than those of artists and sculptors; buildings having nothing personal about them, but being like works of Nature.
Yesterday I finished the fifth chapter of the History of the City. The Pope beheld this monument of his mystic folly and vanity from the Spanish Embassy. In truth it caused me a hearty laugh. The world, says Alertz, is a universal mad-house, only the greatest fools are not shut up. The death of Hammer- Purgstall is announced. Sent the last proofs of the Tombs of the Popes back to Leipzig on December Have just made acquaintance with Adolf von Schack. He looks very ill. Alertz is attending him — the illness is perhaps more imaginary than real.
He will not stand any medicine. Alertz told me, laughing, that he had finally prescribed some drops of pure water, and Schack, according to custom, loudly complained that this medicine caused him great inconvenience. Went with Schack for a walk on the Pincio. He knows Spain thoroughly, and is also well acquainted with Oriental literature. I regard my acquaintance with him as a pleasant gift from the departing year. Have been hitherto too deeply engaged in the History of the City to record any of my doings of the present year.
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