From the Oak to the Olive Part 13

The journey which we now commenced was too rapid to allow of more than the briefest record of its route. The breathlessness of haste, and the number of things to be seen and visited, left no time for writing up on the subjects suggested by the meagre notes of the diary. To the latter, therefore, I am forced to betake myself, piecing its fragmentary statements, where I can do so, from memory.

Tuesday, August 6. Started with vetturino for Innspruck, via Brenner pa.s.s. A splendid day's journey. Stopped to dine at a pretty village,--name forgotten,--at whose princ.i.p.al inn a smart, bustling maid-servant in costume, very clean and civil, came to the carriage, helped us to alight, and carried our travelling bags up stairs to a parlor with a stout bed in it, upon which our chief threw himself and slept until the cutlets were ready. This old-fashioned zeal and civility were pleasant to contemplate once more, probably for the last time. For a railroad has been built over the Brenner pa.s.s, the which will go into operation next week. Then will these pleasant manners insensibly fade away, with the up-to-time curtness of modern travel. The porter who helps you to carry your hand luggage from the car to the depot will sternly demand his fee for that laborious service. All officials will grow as reticent of doing you the smallest pleasure as if civility were a contraband of war. And it does indeed become so, for the railroad develops the antagonisms of trade. Its flaming sword allows of no wanderings in wayside Paradises. Its steam trumpet shrieks in your ear the lesson that the straight line is the shortest distance between two points. It swallows you at one point and vomits you at another, with extreme risk of your life between. And it vulgarizes every place that it touches. The mixed stir and quiet of the little town become concentrated into fixed crises of excitement. For the postilion's horn and whip, and the pleasant rattling of the coming and going post-chaise, you will have, three or four times in the day, those shrill bars whose infernal symphony is mercifully allowed to proceed no farther; and a cross and steaming crowd; and a cool and supercilious few in the first or second cla.s.s _wart-saal_; and then a dull and dead quiet in the little town, as if steam and stir came and went together, and left nothing behind them.

The buxom maid-servant mourned over the impending ruin of the small tavern business, as she showed us the curious arrangements of the old house. It had formerly been a convent of nuns, and was very solidly put together. The back windows commanded a lovely view of the mountains. In the garden we found a pleasant open house, no doubt formerly a place for devout a.s.semblages and meditations, but now chiefly devoted to the consumption of beer.

After dinner we walked to the church near by, and looked at the curious iron crosses and small mural tablets which marked the final resting-place of the village worthies. Their petty offices and cherished distinctions were all preserved here. All of them had received the "holy death sacrament," and had started on the mysterious voyage in good hope.

Through this whole extent of country, the crucifixes by the wayside were numerous. Resuming our journey, we reached Mittelwald, a picturesque hamlet, composed of a small church, a stream, a bridge, and a short string of houses. Here we defeated the future machinations of all officers of customs, by causing the two offending dress-patterns, already twice paid for, and treated at length in various printed and written doc.u.ments, to be cut into breadths, which we hastily managed to sew up, reserving their fuller treatment for the purlieus of civilized life.

Our two days' drive over the mountains was refreshing and most charming.

Our vetturino was not less despondent than the maid-servant before alluded to. In our progress we were much in sight of the scarcely completed railroad, whose locomotive and working cars constantly appeared and disappeared before us, plunging into the numerous tunnels that defeat the designs of the mountain fortresses, and mocking our slow progress, as the money-getting train of success and sensation mocks the tedious steps of learning and the painful elaboration of art.

"This is my last journey," said the vetturino; "the railway opens on Monday of next week."

"What will you do thereafter?" I inquired.

"Sell all out, and go to work as I can," he answered; adding, however, "In case you should intend going as far as Munich by carriage, I beg to be honored,"--of which the Yankee rendering would be, "I shouldn't mind putting you through."

This, however, was hardly to be thought of, and at Innspruck we took leave of this honest and polite man, whose species must soon become extinct, whether he survive or no. Here recommenced for us the prosaic chapter of the railroad. Our route, however, for a good part of the way, lay within sight of the mountains. The depots at which we took fiery breath were in the style of Swiss chalets, quite ornamental in themselves, and further graced by vines and flowers. The travellers we encountered were not commonplacely cosmopolite. The young women were often in Tyrolese costume, wearing gilt ta.s.sels on their broad, black felt hats. We encountered parties of archers going to attend shooting matches, attired in picturesque uniforms of green and gold. At the depots, too, we encountered a new medium of enlivenment. We were now in a land of beer, and foaming gla.s.ses were offered to us in the cars, and at the railway buffets. Mild and cheerful we found this Bavarian beverage,--less verse-inspiring than wine,--and valuable as tending to reduce the number of poets who tease the world by putting all its lessons into rhymes, chimes, and jingles. Whatever we ourselves may have done, it is certain that our companions of both s.e.xes embraced these frequent opportunities of refreshment, and that the color in their cheeks and the tone of their good-natured laughter were heightened by the same. One of these, a young maiden, told us how she had climbed the mountain during four hours of the day before, visiting the huts of the cowherds, who, during summer, pasture their cows high up on the green slopes. The existence of these people she described as hard and solitary in the extreme. The rich b.u.t.ter and cheese they make are all for the market. They themselves eat only what they cannot sell, according to the rule whereby small farmers live and thrive in all lands. The young girl wore in her hat a bunch of the blossom called _edelweiss_, which she had brought from her lofty wanderings. It is held in great esteem here, and is often offered for sale.

In the afternoon we turned our back upon the mountains. A flat land lay before us, green and well tilled. And long before sunset we saw the spires of Munich, and the lifted arm of the great statue of Bavaria. Our arrival was prosperous, and through the streets of the handsome modern city we attained the quiet of an upper chamber in a hotel filled with Americans.

MUNICH.

Our two days in Munich were characterized by the most laborious sight-seeing. A week, even in our rapid scale of travelling, would not have been too much for this gorgeous city. We gave what we had, and cannot give a good account of it.

My first visit was to the Pinakothek, which I had thoroughly explored some twenty-three years earlier, when the galleries of Italy and the Louvre were unknown to me. Coming now quite freshly from Venice, with Rome and Florence still recent in my experience, I found the Munich gallery less grandiose than my former remembrance had made it. The diary says, "The Rubenses are the best feature. I note also two fine heads by Rembrandt, and a first-rate Paris Bordone--a female head with golden hair and dark-red dress; four peasant pictures by Murillo, excellent in their kind, quite familiar through copies and engravings; some of the best Albert Durers. The Italian pictures not all genuine. None of the Raphaels, I should say, would be accepted as such in Italy. The Fra Angelicos not good. Two good Andrea del Sartos; a Leonardo da Vinci, which seems to me a little caricatured; a room full of Vander Wertes, very smooth and finely finished; many Vandycks, scarcely first rate."

The afternoon of this day we devoted to the Glyptothek, or gallery of sculpture. Here our first objects of interest were the aeginetan marbles, whose vacant places we had so recently seen on the breezy height of the temple from which they were taken.

We found these rough, and attesting a period of art far more remote than that of the Elgin marbles. They are arranged in the order in which they stood before the pediment of the temple, a standing figure of Minerva in the middle, the other figures tapering off on either side, and ending with two seated warriors, the feet of either turned towards the outer angle of his side of the pediment. All seemed to have belonged to a dispensation of ugliness; they reminded us of some of the Etruscan sculptures.

This gallery possesses a famous torso called the Ilioneus, concerning which Mrs. Jamieson rhapsodizes somewhat in her Munich book. The Barberini Faun, too, is among its treasures. As my readers may not be acquainted with the artistic antecedents of this statue, I will subjoin for their benefit the following narration, which I abridge from the "Ricordi" of the Marquis Ma.s.simo d' Azeglio, recently published.

At the time of the French domination in Italy, the Roman n.o.bles were subjected to the levying of heavy contributions. The inconvenience of these requisitions often taxed the resources of the wealthiest families, and led to the sale of furniture, jewels, and the multifarious denomination of articles cla.s.sed together as _objets d'art_. Among others, the Barberini family, in their palace at the Quattro Fontane, exposed for sale various antiquitties, and especially the torso of a male figure, of Greek execution and in Pentelican marble, a relic of the palmy days of h.e.l.lenic art.

A certain sculptor, Cavalier Pacetti, purchased this last fragment, sold at auction for the sum of seven or eight hundred dollars. The arms and legs were wholly wanting--the narrator is uncertain as to the head.

Pacetti had made this purchase with the view of restoring the mutilated statue to entireness. He proceeded to model for himself the parts that were wanting, and in time produced the sleeping figure known as the Barberini Faun.

This work was esteemed a great success. Besides the value of its long and uncertain labor must be mentioned the difficulty of matching the original marble. To effect this the artist was obliged to purchase and destroy another Greek statue, of less merit, whose marble supplied the material for the restoration.

In the mean time the Napoleonic era had pa.s.sed away; the pope had returned to Rome. Foreigners from all parts now flocked to the Eternal City, and to one of these Pacetti sold his work for many thousands of dollars. Before it could be packed and delivered, however, a governmental veto annulled the sale, directing the artist to restore the statue to the Barberini family, under the plea of its being subject to a _fidei commissa_, and offering him the sum of money expended by him in the first purchase, together with such further compensation for his labor and materials as a committee of experts should award.

The unfortunate Pacetti resisted this injustice to the extent of his ability. He demonstrated the sale of the torso to have been made without reserve, the money for its purchase to have been raised by him with considerable effort. The further expense of the secondary statue was a heavy item. As an artist, he could not allow any one but himself to set a price upon his work.

In spite of these arguments, the Barberinis, remembering that possession is nine points of the law, managed to confiscate the statue by armed force. Before this last measure, however, a mandate informed the artist that the pitiful sum offered to him in exchange (not in compensation) for his work, had been placed in the bank, subject to his order, and that from this sum a steady discount would mark every day of his delay to close with the shameful bargain.

Pacetti now fell ill with a bilious fever, the result of this bitter disappointment. His recovery was only partial, and his death soon followed. His sons commenced and continued a suit against the Barberini family. They obtained a favorable judgment, but did not obtain their property, which the Barberinis sold to the King of Bavaria.

I have thought it worth while to quote this history of a world-renowned work of art. I do not know that a more perfect and successful combination of modern with ancient art exists than that achieved in this Munich Faun. The mutilated honor of the Barberini name is, we should fear, beyond restoration by any artist.

The Glyptothek closed much too soon for us. With the exception of the sculptures just enumerated, it possesses nothing that can compete in interest with the noted Italian galleries, or perhaps with the Louvre.

But the few valuables that it has are first rate of their kind, and it contains many duplicates of well-known subjects. The building and arrangements are very elegant, and seem to cast a certain pathos over the follies of the old king, to whom it owes its origin, making one more sorry than angry that one who knew the Graces so well should not have fraternized more with the Virtues. The aeginetan Minerva is stern and hideous, however, and may have exercised an unfortunate influence over her _protege_.

We closed the labors of this day by visiting the colossal statue of Bavaria, who, with a strange hospitality, throws open her skull to the public. The external effect of the figure is not grandiose, and the sudden slope of the ground in front makes it very difficult to get a good view of it. With the help of a lamp, and in consideration of a small fee, we ascended the spinal column, and made ourselves comfortable within the sacred precincts of phrenology. The circulation, however, soon became so rapid as to produce a pressure at the base of the brain.

Calling to the guardian below to impede for the moment all further ascent, we flowed down, and the congestion was relieved. Of this statue an artist once said to us, "As for such a thing as the Munich Bavaria, the bigger it is, the smaller it is"--a saying not unintelligible to those who have seen it.

Our remaining day we devoted, in the first place, to the new Pinakothek.

Here we saw a large picture, by Kaulbach, representing the fall of Jerusalem. Although full of historical and artistic interest, it seemed to me less individual and remarkable than his cartoons. A series of small pictures by the same artist appeared quite unworthy of his great powers and reputation. They were exceedingly well executed, certainly, but poorly conceived, representing matters merely personal to artistic and other society in Munich, and of little value to the world at large.

Here was also a holy family by Overbeck, closely imitated from Raphael.

The diary speaks vaguely of "many interesting pictures, the religious ones the poorest." I remember that we greatly regretted the limitation of our time in visiting this gallery. In the vestibule of the building we were shown a splendid Bavaria, in a triumphal car, driving four lions abreast, the work of Schwanthaler. This n.o.ble design so far exists only in plaster; one would wish to see it in fine Munich bronze. Apropos of which I must mention, but cannot describe, a visit to the celebrated foundery in which many of the best modern statues have been cast. Here were Crawford's n.o.ble works; here the more recent compositions of Rogers, Miss Stebbins, and Miss Hosmer. An American naturally first seeks acquaintance here with the works of his countrymen. He finds them in distinguished company. The foundery keeps a plaster cast of each of its models, and the ghosts of our heroes appear with tie-wig princes and generals of other times, as also with poets and _litterateurs_. The group of Goethe and Schiller, crowned and hand in hand, suggests one of the n.o.blest of literary reminiscences--that of the devoted and genuine friendship of two most eminent authors, within the narrow limits of one small society. The entireness and sincerity of each in his own department of art alone made this possible. He who dares to be himself, and to work out his own ideal, fears no other, however praised and distinguished.

We visited the new and old palaces in company with a small mob of travellers of all nations, whose disorderly tendencies were restrained by the palace _cicerones_. These worthies did the honors of the place, told the stories, and kept the company together. In the new palace we were shown the frescos, the hall of the battlepieces, the famous gallery of beauties, and the throne-room, whose whole length is adorned with life-size statues of royal and ducal Bavarian ancestors in gilded bronze. The throne is a great gilded chair, cushioned with crimson velvet, the seat adorned with a huge _L_ in gold embroidery.

Of the gallery mentioned just before, I must say that its portraits are those of society belles, not of artist beauties. However handsome, therefore, they may have been in their ball and court dresses, there is something conventional and unlovely in their _toute ensemble_, as a collection of female heads. I would agree to find artists who should make better pictures from women of the people, taken in their ordinary costume, and with the freedom of common life in their actions and expressions. An intangible armor of formality seems to guard the persons of those great ladies. One imagines that one could understand their faces better, were they translated into human nature.

In the old palace, which has now rather a deserted and denuded aspect, we still found traces of former splendor. Among these, I remember a state bed with a covering so heavily embroidered with gold, that eight men are requisite to lift it. The _valet de place_ astonished us with the price of this article; but having forgotten his statement, I cannot astonish any one with it. Of greater interest was a room, whose walls bore everywhere small brackets, supporting costly pieces of porcelain, cups, _flacons_, and statuettes. Beyond this was a _boudoir_, whose vermilion sides were nearly covered by miniature paintings, set into them. Many of these miniatures were of great beauty and value. Clearly the tastes of the Bavarian family were always of the most expensive.

They looked after the flower garden, and allowed the kitchen garden to take care of itself. Of this sort was the farming of Otho and Amalia.

But peace be to them. Otho is just dead of measles, Amalia nearly dead of vexations.

Our two days allowed us little time for the churches of Munich. The Frauenkirche has many antiquities more interesting than its splendid restorations. On one of its altars I found the inscription, "Holy mother Ann, pray for us." I suppose that ever since the dogma of the immaculate conception has become part of church discipline, the sacred person just mentioned has found her clientele much enlarged. The new Basilica is quite gorgeous in its adornments, but I have preserved no minutes of them.

We had the satisfaction of seeing a number of Kaulbach's drawings, among which were his Goethe and Schiller series, very fine and full of interest.

One of the last of these represents Tell stepping from Gessler's boat at the critical moment described in Schiller's drama. One of the newest to me was a figure of Ottilie, from the Wahlverwandtschaften, hanging with mingled horror and affection over the innocent babe of the story. The intense distress of the young girl's countenance contrasts strongly with the reposeful att.i.tude of the little one. It made me ponder this ingenious and laboriously achieved distress. The very exuberance of Goethe's temperament, I must think, caused him to seek his sorrows in regions quite remote from common disaster. The miseries of his personages (vide Werther and the Wahlverwandtschaften) are far-fetched; and the alchemy by which he turns wholesome life into sentimental anguish brings to light no life-treasure more substantial than the fairy gold which genius is bound to convert into value more solid.

And this was all of Munich, a place of polite tastes surely, in which life must flow on, adorned with many pleasantnesses. Neither would business seem to be deficient, judging from the handsome shops and general air of prosperity. Our view of its resources was certainly most cursory. But life is the richer even for adjourned pleasures, and we shall never think of Munich without desiring its better acquaintance.

SWITZERLAND.

Travelling in Switzerland is now become so common and conventional as to invite little comment, except from those who remain in the country long enough to study out scientific and social questions, which the hasty traveller has not time to entertain in even the most cursory matter. I confess, for one, that I was content to be enchanted with the wonderful beauty which feasts the eye without intermission. I was willing to believe that the mountains had done for this people all that they should have done, giving them political immunities, and a sort of necessary independence, while the hardships of climate and situation keep stringent the social bond, and temper the fierceness of individuality with the sense of mutual need and protection. It would be, I think, an instructive study for an American to become intimately acquainted with the domestic features of Swiss republicanism. It is undoubtedly a system less lax and more carefully administered than our own. The door is not thrown open for beggary, ignorance, and rascality to vote themselves, in the shape of their representatives, the first places in outward dignity and efficient power. The old traditions of breeding and education are carefully held to. Without the nonsense of aristocratic absolutism, there is yet no confusion of orders. The mistress is mistress, and the maid is maid. Wealth and landed property persevere in families. Great changes of position without great talents are rare.

To our American pretensions, and to our brilliant style of manoeuvring, the Swiss mode of life would appear a very slow business.

It seems rather to develop a high mediocrity than an array of startling superiorities. It has, moreover, no room for daring theories and experiments. It cannot afford a Mormon corner, a woman's-rights platform, an endless intricacy of speculating and swindling rings.

Whether we can afford these things, future generations will determine.

There is a great deal of moral and political fancy-work done in America which another age may put out of sight to make room for necessary scrubbing, sweeping, and getting rid of vermin. Meantime the poor present age works, and deceives, and dawdles, hoping to be dismissed with the absolving edict, "She hath done what she could."

Hotels, railways, and depots in Switzerland are comfortable, and managed with great order and system. The telegraph arrangements are admirable, cheap, and punctual, as they might be here, if they were administered for the people's interest, and not for the aggrandizement of private fortunes. Living and comfort are expensive to the traveller, not exorbitant. Subordinates neither insult nor cringe. Churches are well filled; intelligent and intelligible doctrine is preached. Education is valued, and liberal provision is made for those cla.s.ses in which natural disability calls for special modes of instruction. I dare not go more into generals, from my very limited opportunity of observation.

Everything, however, in the aspect of town and country, leads one to suppose that the average of crime must be a low one, and that the preventing influences--so much more efficient than remedial measures--have long, been at work. It is Protestant Switzerland which makes this impression most strongly. In the Catholic cantons, beggary exists and is tolerated as a thing of course; yet the Protestant element has everywhere its representation and its influence.

Swiss Catholicism has not the slavish ignorance of Roman Catholicism.