Albano – Popular Singing – Letters from Mrs Somerville – Gibson – Perugia – Comet of 1843 – Summer at Venice – Letters from Mrs Somerville and Miss Joanna Baillie – Elected Associate of the College of Resurgenti and R. I. Academy of Science at Arezzo
IN spring we went to Albano, and lived in a villa, high up on the hill in a beautiful situation not far from the lake. The view was most extensive, commanding the whole of the Campagna as far as Terracina, &c. In this wide expanse we could see the thunderclouds forming and rising gradually over the sky before the storm, and I used to watch the vapour condensing into a cloud as it rose into the cool air. I never witnessed anything so violent as the storms we had about the equinox, when the weather broke up. Our house being high above the plain became enveloped in vapour till, at 3 p.m., we could scarcely see the olives which grew below our windows, and crash followed crash with no interval between the lightning and the thunder, so that we felt sure many places must have been struck; and we were not mistaken – trees, houses, and even cattle had been struck close to us. Somerville went to Florence to attend a scientific meeting, and wrote to us that the lightning there had stripped the gold leaf off the conductors on the powder magazine; a proof of their utility.
The sunsets were glorious, and I, fascinated by the gorgeous colouring, attempted to paint what Turner alone could have done justice to. I made studies, too, which were signal failures, of the noble ilex trees bordering the lake of Albano. Thus I wasted a great deal of time, I can hardly say in vain, from the pleasure I had in the lovely scenery. Somerville sat often by me with his book, while I painted from nature, or amused himself examining the geological structure of the country. Our life was a solitary one, except for the occasional visit from some friends who were at Frascati; but we never found it dull; besides, we made many expeditions on mules or donkeys to places in the neighbourhood. I was very much delighted with the flora on the Campagna and the Alban hills, which in spring and early summer are a perfect garden of flowers. Many plants we cultivate in England here grow wild in profusion, such as cyclamens, gum-cistus,85 both white and purple, many rare and beautiful orchideæ, the large flowering Spanish broom, perfuming the air all around, the tall, white-blos-somed Mediterranean heath, and the myrtle. These and many others my girls used to bring in from their early morning walks. The flowers only lasted till the end of June, when the heat began, and the whole country became brown and parched; but scarcely had the autumnal rains commenced, when, like magic, the whole country broke out once more into verdure, and myriads of cyclamens covered the ground. Nightingales abounded in the woods, singing both by night and by day; and one bright moonlight night my daughters, who slept with their window open, were startled from their sleep by the hooting of one of those beautiful birds, the great-eared owl – ‘le grand duc’ of Buffon86 – which had settled on the railing of their balcony. We constantly came across snakes, generally harmless ones; but there were a good many vipers, and once, when Somerville and my daughters, with Mr Cromek°, the artist, had gone from Genzano to Nettuno for a couple of days, a small asp which was crawling among the bent-grass on the sea-shore, darted at one of the girls, who had irritated it by touching it with her parasol. By the natives they are much dreaded, both on this coast and in the pine forest of Ravenna, where the cattle are said to be occasionally poisoned by their bite.
We had been acquainted with the Rev. Dr, afterwards Cardinal Wiseman° at Rome. He was head of a college of young men educating for the Catholic Church, who had their villeggiatura87 at Monte Porzio. We spent a day with him there, and visited Tusculum; another day we went to Lariccia, where there is a palace and park belonging to the Chigi° family in a most picturesque but dilapidated state. We went also to Genzano, Rocca del Papa, and occasionally to visit friends at Frascati. There was a stone threshing-floor behind our house. During the vintage we had it nicely swept and lighted with torches, and the grape gatherers came and danced till long after midnight, to the great amusement of my daughters, who joined in the dance, which was the Saltarello, a variety of the Tarantella. They danced to the beating of tambourines. Italy is the country of music, especially of melody, and the popular airs, especially the Neapolitan, are extremely beautiful and melodious; yet it is a fact, that the singing of the peasantry, particularly in the Roman and Neapolitan provinces, is most disagreeable and discordant. It is not melody at all, but a kind of wild chant, meandering through minor tones, without rhythm of any sort or apparent rule, and my daughters say it is very difficult to note down; yet there is some kind of method and similarity in it as one hears it shouted out at the loudest pitch of the voice, the last note dwelt upon and drawn out to an immeasurable length. The words are frequently improvised by the singers, who answer one another from a distance, as they work in the fields. I have been told, this style of chanting – singing it can hardly be called – has been handed down from the most ancient times, and it is said, in the southern provinces, to have descended from the early Greek colonists. The ancient Greeks are supposed to have chanted their poetry to music, as do the Italian improvisatori at the present day. In Tuscany, the words of the songs are often extremely poetical and graceful. Frequently, these verses, called stornelli and rispetti, are composed by the peasants themselves, women as well as men;88 the language is the purest and most classical Italian, such as is spoken at the present day in the provinces of Siena, Pistoia, &c., very much less corrupted by foreign idioms or adaptations than what is spoken, even by cultivated persons, in Florence itself. The picturesque costumes so universal when I first came to Italy, in 1817, had fallen very much into disuse when, at a much later period, we resided in Rome, and now they are rarely seen.
We hired a handsome peasant girl from Albano as housemaid, who was much admired by our English friends in her scarlet cloth bodice, trimmed with gold lace, and the silver spadone or bodkin, fastening her plaits of dark hair; but she very soon exchanged her picturesque costume for a bonnet, etc., in which she looked clumsy and common-place.
[The following are extracts from letters written from Albano by my mother:—]
FROM MRS SOMERVILLE TO HER SON
W. GREIG, ESQ.
ALBANO, 16th June, 1841
I was thankful to hear, my dearest Woronzow, from your last letter that Agnes is recovering so well … We are very much pleased with our residence at Albano; the house, with its high sounding name of ‘Villa,’ is more like a farmhouse, with brick floors and no carpets, and a few chairs and tables, but the situation is divine. We are near the top of the hill, about half-a-mile above Albano, and have the most magnificent view in every direction, and such a variety of delightful walks, that we take a new one every evening. For painting it is perfect; every step is a picture. At present we have no one near, and lead the life of hermits; but our friends have loaded us with books, and with drawing, painting, music, and writing, we never have a moment idle. Almost every one has left Rome; but the English have all gone elsewhere, as they are not so easily pleased with a house as we are. The only gay thing we have done was a donkey ride yesterday to the top of Monte Cavo, and back by the lake of Nemi…
FROM MRS SOMERVILLE TO
WORONZOW GREIG, ESQ.
ALBANO, 29th August, 1841
I dare say you think it very long since you have heard from me, my dearest Woronzow, but the truth is, I have been writing so hard, that after I had finished my day’s work, I was fit for nothing but idleness. The reason of my hurry is, that the scientific meeting takes place at Florence on the 15th of September, and as I think it probable that some of our English philosophers will come to it, I hope to have a safe opportunity of sending home some MS. which it has cost me hard work to get ready, as I have undertaken a book more fit for the combination of a Society than for a single hand to accomplish. Lord Brougham was most kind when at Rome, and took so great an interest in it, that he has undertaken to read it over, and give me his opinion and criticism, which will be very valuable, as I know no one who is a better judge of these matters. He will send it to Mr. Murray, and you had better consult with him about it, whether he thinks it will succeed or not. Both William and Martha like what I have done; but I am very nervous about it, and wish you would read it if you have time… We have been extremely quiet all the summer; we have no neighbours, so that we amuse ourselves with our occupations. I get up between six and seven, breakfast at eight, and write till three, when we dine; after dinner, I write again till near six, when we go out and take a long walk; come home to tea at nine, and go to bed at eleven: the same thing day after day, so you cannot expect a very amusing letter… I have another commission I wish you would do for me; it is to inquire what discoveries Captain Ross has made at the South Pole. I saw a very interesting account in Galignani of what they have done, but cannot trust to a newspaper account so as to quote it.
A new edition of my Physical Sciences was required, so the Physical Geography was laid aside for the present. On returning to Rome, we resumed our usual life, and continued to receive our friends in the evening without ceremony. There was generally a merry party round the tea table in a corner of the room. I cannot omit mentioning one of the most charming and intellectual of our friends, Don Michelangelo Gaetani°, Duke of Sermoneta, whose brilliant and witty conversation is unrivalled, and for whom I have had a very sincere friendship for many years. I found him lately as charming as ever, notwithstanding the cruel loss of his sight. The last time I ever dined out was at his house at Rome, when I was on my way to Naples in 1867.
John Gibson, the sculptor, the most guileless and amiable of men, was now a dear friend. His style was the purest Grecian, and had some of his works been found among the ruins, multitudes would have come to Rome to admire them. He was now in the height of his fame; yet he was so kind and encouraging to young people that he allowed my girls to go and draw in his studio, and one of my daughters, with a friend, modelled there for some time. His drawings for bas-reliefs were most beautiful. He drew very slowly, but a line once drawn was never changed. He ignored India-rubber or bread-crumbs, so perfect was his knowledge of anatomy, and so decided the character and expression he meant to give.
We had charades one evening in a small theatre in our house, which went off very well. There was much beauty at Rome at that time; no one who was there can have forgotten the beautiful and brilliant Sheridans. I recollect Lady Dufferin at the Easter ceremonies at St Peter’s, in her widow’s cap, with a large black crape veil thrown over it, creating quite a sensation. With her exquisite features, oval face, and somewhat fantastical head-dress, anything more lovely could not be conceived; and the Roman people crowded round her in undisguised admiration of la bella monaca Inglese. Her charm of manner and her brilliant conversation will never be forgotten by those who knew her. To my mind, Mrs Norton was the most beautiful of the three sisters. Hers is a grand countenance, such as artists love to study. Gibson, whom I asked, after his return from England, which he had revisited after twenty-seven years’ absence, what he thought of Englishwomen, replied, he had seen many handsome women, but no such sculptural beauty as Mrs Norton’s. I might add the Marchioness of Waterford, whose bust at Macdonald’s I took at first for an ideal head, till I recognised the likeness.
Lady Davy used to live a great deal at Rome, and took an active part in society. She talked a great deal, and talked well when she spoke English, but like many of us had more pretension with regard to the things she could not do well than to those she really could. She was a Latin scholar, and as far as reading and knowing the literature of modern languages went she was very accomplished, but unfortunately, she fancied she spoke them perfectly, and was never happier than when she had people of different nations dining with her, each of whom she addressed in his own language. Many amusing mistakes of hers in speaking Italian were current in both Roman and English circles, [2D, 172: such as her sending to Spillman the pastry cook for un grosso gatto, her ordering her cook to make a dish of Costollette alla Sorella – her telling a servant she was engaging that one of his duties would be to puline i lampi, rather an appalling task, and many more which I forget. This reminds me of a Florentine Lady who is no less memorable for her blunders but in French. She said J’ai froid car j’ai laissé ma peau à l’antechambre meaning her fur cape – and not long ago having left her card with Venus en personne written in pencil upon, goes by the name now of ‘Venus en personne’ although if she ever was handsome it was many years ago as she is a grandmother.
When Sir Frederick Adam° was governor of the Ionian Islands he married a Greek lady of great beauty; though no longer young when I knew her at Rome, her eyes were still splendid. I was told that one day her husband said, ‘My lady, are you going to the – Embassy you know it is the evening when the ambassadress receives,’ ‘P’raps I go, p’raps I stay at home, I don’t like that woman, – she false, – she false as hell, – she all gumboil.’ During the irresistible burst of laughter that followed, Lady Adam’s eyes flashed fire. ‘Why laugh? Why laugh? there is no need for laughing;’ at last Sir Frederick called out, ‘You mean humbug.’ ‘Well, why laugh, humbug, gumboil, all one and the same thing’ – she was very angry. Yet she was a good-natured person though fiery, for she laughed heartily afterwards, saying, ‘I fool – I great fool to be angry for nothing.’ I have no doubt I made a great many mistakes myself. (written on the verso at the bottom of the page: Mrs Browning told us this of Lady Adam but I won’t have her name in my book.]89
[1D, 196–7: The English society was better than it has been since and the Carnival was very different from what it afterwards became. In the Corso the carriages were hand-somer, the ladies better dressed, a flower or bonbon was gently thrown in passing.90 The masques in the street were noisy and merry but never rude; they were occasionally witty, clever and sometimes even improvised. Latterly the Corso became a perfect bear garden, some trash was thrown with violence instead of flowers, and in place of the bonbons showers of lime were thrown from the street and even from the windows into the carriages which endangered the eyes so much that those who ventured into this rude play wore wire visors. I am grieved to say this change was chiefly owing to my countrymen. The Roman families had large supper parties the last evening of the Carnival preparatory to the fast of forty days,] [2D, 179: but in the month of March the English introduced hunting, racing and steeple chases to the astonishment of the Romans. Horses and hounds were brought from England; at the races gentlemen rode their own horses. The Romans got up races too but the horses were ridden by grooms. There was even a race by the contadini [peasants] on their wild ponies; they were decked out with various coloured ribbons streaming behind their high crowned hats, more than a dozen of them tearing along was a very pretty sight. All this was making Rome too like an English watering place. The men met at midnight, supped, smoked, and played at cards till morning. The Italians did not join them but they subscribed liberally for the hounds and races.]
A few months were very pleasantly spent one summer at Perugia, where there is so much that is interesting to be seen. The neighbouring country is very beautiful, and the city being on the top of a hill is very cool during the hot weather. We had an apartment in the Casa Oddi-Baglioni – a name well known in Italian history – and I recollect spending some very pleasant days with the Conte Oddi-Baglioni, at a villa called Colle del Cardinale, some ten or twelve miles from the town. The house was large and handsomely decorated, with a profusion of the finest Chinese vases. On our toilet tables were placed perfumes, scented soap, and very elaborately embroidered night-dresses were laid out for use. I remember especially admiring the basins, jugs, &c., which were all of the finest japan enamel. There was a subterranean apartment where we dined, which was delightfully cool and pleasant, and at a large and profusely served dinner-table, while we and the guests with the owner of the house dined at the upper end, at the lower end and below the salt there were the superv of the Count’s farms, a house decorator and others of that rank. It is not the only instance we met with of this very ancient custom. The first time Somerville and I came to Italy, years before this, while dining at a very noble house, the wet-nurse took her place, as a matter of course, at the foot of the dinner-table.
On the morning after our arrival and at a very early hour there was a very fine eclipse of the sun, though not total at Perugia or the neighbourhood; the chill and unnatural gloom were very striking.
Perugia is one of the places in which the ancient athletic game of pallone is played with spirit. It is so graceful when well played that I wonder our active young men have not adopted it. A large leather ball filled with condensed air is struck and returned again by the opponent with the whole force of their right arms, covered to the elbow with a spiked wooden case. The promptness and activity required to keep up the ball is very great, and the impetus with which it strikes is such, that the boxes for spectators in the amphitheatres dedicated to this game are protected by strong netting. It is a very complicated game, and, I am told, somewhat resembles tennis.
On leaving Perugia we went for a few days to Assisi, spent a day at Chiusi, and then returned to Rome, which we found in a great state of excitement on account of three steamers which had just arrived from England to ply on the Tiber. The Pope and Cardinals made a solemn procession to bless them. No doubt they would have thought our method of dashing a bottle of wine on a vessel on naming her highly profane.
We constantly made expeditions to the country, to Tivoli, Veii, Ostia, &c., and my daughters rode on the Campagna. One day they rode to Albano, and on returning after dark they told me they had seen a most curious cloud which never altered its position; it was a very long narrow stripe reaching from the horizon till nearly over head – it was the tail of the magnificent comet of 1843.91
We met with a great temptation in an invitation from Lady Stratford Canning°, to go and visit them at Buyuk-déré, near Constantinople, but res arcta prevented us from accepting what would have been so desirable in every respect. At this time I sat to our good friend Mr Macdonald for my bust, which was much liked.92
One early summer we went to Loreto and Ancona, where we embarked for Trieste; the weather seemed fine when we set off, but a storm came on, with thunder and lightning, very high sea and several waterspouts. The vessel rolled and pitched, and we were carried far out of our course to the Dalmatian coast. I was obliged to remain a couple of days at Trieste to rest, and was very glad when we arrived at Venice. The summer passed most delightfully at Venice, and we had ample time to see everything without hurry. I wrote very little this summer, for the scenery was so beautiful that I painted all day; my daughters drew in the Belle Arti, and Somerville had plenty of books to amuse him, besides sight-seeing, which occupied much of our time. In the Armenian convent we met with Joseph Warten, an excellent mathematician and astronomer; he was pastor at Neusatz, near Peterwardein in Hungary, and he was making a tour through Europe. He asked me to give him a copy of the Mechanism of the Heavens, and afterwards wrote in Latin to Somerville and sent me some errors of the press he had met with in my book, but they were of no use, as I never published a second edition. We returned to Rome by Ravenna, where we stayed a couple of days, then travelled slowly along the Adriatic Coast. From thence we went by Gubbio and Perugia to Orvieto, one of the most interesting towns in Italy, and one seldom visited at that time; now the railway will bring it into the regular track of travellers.
[A few extracts from letters, written and received during this summer by my mother, may not be without interest. Also parts of two from my mother’s old and valued friend Miss Joanna Baillie. The second letter was written several years later, and is nearly the last she ever wrote to my mother.]
FROM MRS SOMERVILLE TO
WORONZOW GREIG, ESQ.
VENICE, 21st July, 1843
I most sincerely rejoice to hear that Agnes and you have gone to the Rhine, as I am confident a little change of air and scene will be of the greatest service to you both… We are quite enchanted with Venice; no one can form an idea of its infinite loveliness who has not seen it in summer and in moonlight. I often doubt my senses, and almost fear it may be a dream. We are lodged to perfection, the weather has been charming, no oppressive heat, though the thermometer ranges from 75° to 80°, accompanied by a good deal of scirocco; there are neither flies nor fleas, and as yet the mosquitoes have not molested us. We owe much of our comfort to the house we are in, for there are scarcely any furnished lodgings, and the hotels are bad and dear, besides situation is everything at this season, when the smaller canals become offensive at low water, for, though there is little tide in the Mediterranean, there are four feet at new and full moon here, which is a great blessing. We have now seen everything, and have become acquainted with everybody, and met with kindness and attention beyond all description. Many of the great ducal families still exist, and live handsomely in their splendid palaces; indeed, the decay of Venice, so much talked of, is quite a mistake; certainly it is very different from what it was in its palmy days, but there is a good deal of activity and trade. The abolition of the law of primo-geniture has injured the noble families more than anything else. We rise early, and are busy indoors all morning, except the girls, who go to the Academy of the Belle Arti, and paint from ten till three. We dine at four, and embark in our gondola at six or seven, and row about on the glassy sea till nine, when we go to the Piazza of San Marco, listen to a very fine military band, and sit gossiping till eleven or twelve, and then row home by the Grand Canal, or make a visit in one of the various houses that are open to us. One of the most remarkable of these is that of the Countess Mocenigo’s°, who has in one of her drawing-rooms the portraits of six doges of the Mocenigo name. I was presented by her to the Duc de Bordeaux°, the other evening, a fat good-natured looking person. I was presented also to the Archduke – I forget what – son of the Archduke Charles°, and admiral of the fleet here; a nice youth, but not clever. We meet him everywhere, and Somerville dined with him a few days ago. The only strangers of note are the Prince of Thurn and Taxis°, and Marshal Marmont°. The Venetian ladies are very ladylike and agreeable, and speak beautifully. We have received uncommon kindness from Mr Rawdon Brown°; he has made us acquainted with everybody, as he is quite at home here, having been settled in Venice for several years, and has got a most beautiful house fitted up, in rococo style, with great taste;93 he is an adept at Venetian history. He supplies us with books, which are a great comfort … The other evening we were surprised by a perfect fleet of gondolas stopping under our windows, from one of which we had the most beautiful serenade; the moonlight was like day, and the effect was admirable. There was a festa the other night in a church on the water’s edge; the shore was illuminated and hundreds of gondolas were darting along like swallows, the gondoliers rowing as if they had been mad, till the water was as much agitated as if there had been a gale of wind: nothing could be more animated. You will perceive from what I have said that the evening, till a late hour, is the time for amusement, in consequence of which I follow the Italian custom of sleeping after dinner, and am much the better for it. This place agrees particularly well with all of us, and is well suited for old people, who require air without fatigue…
Most affectionately,
MARY SOMERVILLE
FROM MRS SOMERVILLE TO
WORONZOW GREIG, ESQ.
VENICE, 27th August, 1843
MY DEAR WORONZOW,
Your excellent letter, giving an account of your agreeable expedition up the Rhine, did not arrive till nearly a month after it was written … I regret exceedingly you could not stay longer, and still more that you could not come on and pay us a visit, and enjoy the charm of summer in Venice, so totally unlike every other place in every respect. I wished for you last night particularly. As we were leaving the Piazza San Marco, about eleven, a boat came up, burning blue lights, with a piano, violins, flutes, and about twenty men on board, who sang choruses in the most delightful manner, and sometimes solos. They were followed by an immense number of gondolas, and we joined the cortège, and all went under the Bridge of Sighs, where the effect was beautiful beyond description. We then all turned and entered the Grand Canal, which was entirely filled with gondolas from one side to the other, jammed together, so that we moved en masse, and stopped every now and then to burn blue or red Bengal lights before the principal palaces, singing going on all the while. We saw numbers of our Venetian friends in their gondolas, enjoying the scene as much as we did, to whom it was almost new. I never saw people who enjoyed life more, and they have much the advantage of us in their delicious climate and aquatic amusements, so much more picturesque than what can be done on land. However, we have had no less than three dances lately. The Grand Duke of Modena,94 with his son and daughter-in-law, were here, and to them a fête was given by the Countess de Thurn. The palace was brilliant with lights; it is on the grand canal, and immediately under the balcony was a boat from which fireworks were let off, and then a couple of boats succeeded them, in which choruses were sung. The view from the balcony is one of the finest in Venice, and the night was charming, and there I was while the dancing went on… I never saw Somerville so well; this place suits us to the life, constant air and no fatigue; I never once have had a headache… Now, my dear W., tell me your tale; my tale is done.
Yours affectionately,
MARY SOMERVILLE
FROM MRS SOMERVILLE TO
WORONZOW GREIG, ESQ.
ROME, PALAZZO LEPRI, VIA DEI CONDOTTI,
27th October, 1843
MY DEAREST WORONZOW,
… We had a beautiful journey to Rome, with fine weather and no annoyance, notwithstanding the disturbed state of the country. At Padua we only remained long enough to see the churches, and it was impossible to pass within a few miles of Arquà without paying a visit to the house of Petrarch. At Ferrara we had a letter to the Cardinal Legate, who was very civil. His palace is the ancient abode of the house of Este95 …
We had a long visit from him in the evening, and found him most agreeable; he regretted that there was no opera, as he would have been happy to offer us his box. Fourteen of those unfortunate men who have been making an attempt to raise an insurrection were arrested the day before; and the night before we slept at Lugo, the Carabineers had searched the inn during the night, entering the rooms where the people were sleeping. We should have been more than surprised to have been wakened by armed men at midnight. In travelling through Italy the reliques and history of the early Christians and of the Middle Ages have a greater attraction for me than those of either the Romans or Etruscans, interesting though these latter be, and in this journey my taste was amply gratified, especially at Ravenna, where the church of San Vitale and the Basilica of St. Apollinare in Classis, both built early in the 6th century, are the most magnificent specimens imaginable. Here also is the tomb of Theodore,96 a most wonderful building; the remains of his palace and numberless other objects of interest, too tedious to mention. Every church is full of them, and most valuable MSS. abound in the libraries. I like the history of the Middle Ages, because one feels that there is something in common between them and us; their names still exist in their descendants, who often inhabit the very palaces they dwelt in, and their very portraits, by the great masters, still hang in their halls; whereas we know nothing about the Greeks and Romans except their public deeds – their private life is a blank to us. Our journey through the Apennines was most beautiful, passing for days under the shade of magnificent oak forests or valleys rich in wine, oil, grain, and silk. We deviated from the main road for a short distance to Gubbio, to see the celebrated Eugubian tables,97 which are as sharp as if they had been engraved yesterday, but in a lost language. We stopped to rest at Perugia, but all our friends were at their country seats, which we regretted. The country round Perugia is unrivalled for richness and beauty, but it rained the morning we resumed our journey. It signified the less as we had been previously at Città della Pieve and Chiusi; so we proceeded to Orvieto in fine weather, still through oak forests. Orvieto is situated on the top of an escarped hill, very like the hill forts of India, and apparently as inaccessible; yet, by dint of numberless turns and windings, we did get up, but only in time for bed. Next morning we saw the sun rise on the most glorious cathedral. After all we had seen we were completely taken by surprise, and were filled with the highest admiration at the extreme beauty and fine taste of this remarkable building…
Your affectionate mother,
MARY SOMERVILLE
FROM MISS JOANNA BAILLIE TO
MRS SOMERVILLE
HAMPSTEAD, December 27th, 1843
MY DEAR MRS SOMERVILLE,
Besides being proud of receiving a letter from you, I was much pleased to know that I am, though at such a distance, sometimes in your thoughts. I was much pleased, too, with what you have said of the health and other gratifications you enjoy in Italy. I should gladly have thanked you at the time, had I known how to address my letter; and after receiving your proper direction from our friend Miss Montgomery, I have been prevented from using it by various things… But though so long silent I have not been ungrateful, and thank you with all my heart. The account you give of Venice is very interesting. There is something affecting in still seeing the descendants of the former Doges holding a diminished state in their remaining palaces with so much courtesy. I am sure you have found yourself a guest in their saloons, hung with paintings of their ancestors, with very mixed feelings. However, Venice to the eye, as you describe it, is Venice still; and with its lights at night gleaming upon the waters makes a very vivid picture to my fancy. You no doubt have fixed it on canvas, and can carry it about with you for the delight of your friends who may never see the original.
In return to your kind inquires after us, I have, all things considered, a very good account to give. Ladies of four score and upwards cannot expect to be robust, and need not be gay. We sit by the fire-side with our books (except when those plaguy notes are to be written) and receive the visits of our friendly neighbours very contentedly, and, I ought to say, and trust I may say, very thankfully… This morning brought one in whom I feel sure that you and your daughters take some interest, Maria Edgeworth. She has been dangerously ill, but is now nearly recovered, and is come from Ireland to pass the winter months with her sisters in London; weak in body, but the mind as clear and the spirits as buoyant as ever. You will be glad to hear that she even has it in her thoughts to write a new work, and has the plan of it nearly arranged. There will be nothing new in the story itself, but the purpose and treating of it will be new, which is, perhaps, a better thing. In our retired way of living, we know little of what goes on in the literary world … I was, however, in town for a few hours the other day, and called upon a lady of rank who has fashionable learned folks coming about her, and she informed me that there are new ideas regarding philosophy entertained in the world, and that Sir John Herschel was now considered as a slight, second-rate man, or person. Who are the first-rate she did not say, and, I suppose, you will not be much mortified to hear that your name was not mentioned at all. So much for our learning. My sister was much disappointed the other day when, in expectation of a ghost story from Mr. Dickens, she only got a grotesque moral allegory; now, as she delights in a ghost and hates an allegory, this was very provoking.
Believe me,
My dear Mrs. Somerville,
Yours with admiration and esteem,
J. BAILLIE
FROM MISS JOANNA BAILLIE TO
MRS SOMERVILLE
HAMPSTEAD, January 9th, 1851
MY DEAR FRIEND,
My dear Mary Somerville, whom I am proud to call my friend, and that she so calls me. I could say much on this point, but I dare not. I received your letter from Mr. Greig last night, and thank you very gratefully. If my head were less confused I should do it better, but the pride I have in thinking of you as philosopher and a woman cannot be exceeded. I shall read your letter many times over. My sister and myself at so great an age are waiting to be called away in mercy by an Almighty Father, and we part with our earthly friends as those whom we shall meet again. My great monster book is now published, and your copy I shall send to your son who will peep into it, and then forward it to yourself. I beg to be kindly and respectfully remembered to your husband; I offer my best wishes to your daughters…
Yours, my dear Friend,
Very faithfully,
JOANNA BAILLIE
My sister begs of you and all your family to accept her best wishes.
FROM SIR JOHN HERSCHEL TO
MRS SOMERVILLE
18th March, 1844
MY DEAR MRS SOMERVILLE,
To have received a letter from you so long ago, and not yet to have thanked you for it, is what I could hardly have believed myself – if the rapid lapse of time in the uniform retirement in which we live were not pressed upon me in a variety of ways which convince me that as a man grows older, his sand, as the grains get low in the glass, slips through more glibly, and steals away with accelerated speed. I wish I could either send you a copy of my Cape observations, or tell you they are published or even in the press. Far from it – I do not expect to ‘go to press’ before another year has elapsed, for though I have got my catalogues of Southern nebulæ and Double stars reduced and arranged, yet there is a great deal of other matter still to be worked through, and I have every description of reduction entirely to execute myself. These are very tedious, and I am a very slow computer, and have been continually taken off the subject by other matter, forced upon me by ‘pressure from without.’ What I am now engaged on is the monograph of the principal Southern nebulæ, the object of which is to put on record every ascertainable particular of their actual appearance and the stars visible in them, so as to satisfy future observers whether new stars have appeared, or changes taken place in the nebulosity. To what an extent this work may go you may judge from the fact that the catalogue of visible stars actually mapped down in their places within the space of less than a square degree in the nebula about η Argus which I have just completed comprises between 1300 and 1400 stars. This is indeed a stupendous object. It is a vastly extensive branching and looped nebula, in the centre of the densest part of which is η Argus, itself a most remarkable star, seeing that from the fourth magnitude which it had in Ptolemy’s time, it has risen (by sudden starts, and not gradually) to such a degree of brilliancy as now actually to surpass Canopus, and to be second only to Sirius. One of these leaps I myself witnessed when in the interval of ceasing to observe it in one year, and resuming its observation in two or three months after in the next, it had sprung over the heads of all the stars of the first magnitude, from Fomalhaut and Regulus (the two least of them) to α Centauri, which it then just equalled, and which is the brightest of all but Canopus and Sirius! It has since made a fresh jump – and who can say it will be the last?
One of the most beautiful objects in the southern hemisphere is a pretty large, perfectly round, and very well-defined planetary nebula, of a fine, full independent blue colour – the only object I have ever seen in the heavens fairly entitled to be called independently blue, i.e., not by contrast. Another superb and most striking object is Lacaille’s 30 Doradus, a nebula of great size in the larger nubicula, of which it is impossible to give a better idea than to compare it to a ‘true lover’s knot,’ or assemblage of nearly circular nebulous loops uniting in a centre, in or near which is an exactly circular round dark hole. Neither this nor the nebula about η Argus have any, the slightest, resemblance to the representations given of them by Dunlop … As you are so kind as to offer to obtain information on any points interesting to me at Rome, here is one on which I earnestly desire to obtain the means of forming a correct opinion, i. e., the real powers and merits of De Vico’s great refractor at the Collegio Romano. De Vico’s accounts of it appear to me to have not a little of the extra-marvellous in them. Saturn’s two close satellites regularly observed – eight stars in the trapezium of Orion! α Aquilæ (as Schumacher inquiringly writes to me) divided into three! the supernumerary divisions of Saturn’s ring well seen, &c., &c. And all by a Cauchoix refractor of eight inches? I fear me that these wonders are not for female eyes, the good monks are too well aware of the penetrating qualities of such optics to allow them entry within the seven fold walls of their Collegio. Has Somerville ever looked through it? On his report I know I could quite rely. As for Lord Rosse’s great reflector, I can only tell you what I hear, having never seen it, or even his three feet one. The great one is not yet completed. Of the other, those who have looked through it speak in raptures. I met not long since an officer who, at Halifax in Nova Scotia, saw the comet at noon close to the sun, and very conspicuous the day after the perihelion passage.
Your account of the pictures and other deliciæ of Venice makes our mouths water; but it is of no use, so we can only congratulate those who are in the full enjoyment of such things.
Ever yours most truly,
J. HERSCHEL
On returning to Rome I was elected Associate of the College of Risurgenti, and in the following April I became an honorary member of the Imperial and Royal Academy of Science, Literature and Art at Arezzo. I finished an edition of the Physical Sciences, at which I had been working, and in spring Somerville hired a small house belonging to the Duca Sforza Cesarini, at Genzano, close to and with a beautiful view of the Lake of Nemi; but as I had not seen my son for some time, I now availed myself of the opportunity of travelling with our friend Sir Frederick Adam to England. We crossed the Channel at Ostend, and at the mouth of the Thames lay the old Venerable, in which my father was flag-captain at the battle of Camperdown. I had a joyful meeting with my son and his wife, and we went to see many things that were new to me. One of our first expeditions was to the British Museum. I had already seen the Elgin Marbles, and the antiquities collected at Babylon by Mr Rich, when he was Consul at Baghdad, but now the Museum had been enriched by the marbles from Halicarnassus, and by the marvellous remains excavated by Mr Layard from the ruins of Nineveh, the very site of which had been for ages unknown.98
I frequently went to Turner’s studio, and was always welcomed.99 No one could imagine that so much poetical feeling existed in so rough an exterior. The water-colour exhibitions were very good; my countrymen still maintained their superiority in that style of art, and the drawings of some English ladies were scarcely inferior to those of first-rate artists, especially those of my friend, Miss Blake, of Danesbury.
While in England I made several visits; the first was to my dear friends Sir John and Lady Herschel, at Collingwood, who received me with the warmest affection. I cannot express the pleasure it gave me to feel myself at home in a family where not only the highest branches of science were freely discussed, but where the accomplishments and graces of life were cultivated. I was highly gratified and proud of being godmother to Rosa, the daughter of Sir John and Lady Herschel. Among other places near Collingwood I was taken to see an excellent observatory formed by Mr Dawes°, a gentleman of independent fortune; and here I must remark, to the honour of my countrymen, that at the time I am writing, there are twenty-six private observatories in Great Britain and Ireland, furnished with first-rate instruments, with which some of the most important astronomical discoveries have been made.
[I received the following letter from my mother while we were at Genzano. It is one of several which record in her natural and unaffected words my mother’s profound admiration for Sir John Herschel.]
MRS SOMERVILLE TO MISS SOMERVILLE
SYDENHAM, 1st September, 1844
Sunday Night
MY DEAR MARTHA,
… We go to the Herschels’ to-morrow, and there I shall finish this letter, as it is impossible to get it in time for Tuesday’s post, but I have so much to do now that you must not expect a letter every post, and I had no time to begin this before, and I am too tired to sit up later to-night…
COLLINGWOOD, Monday
This appears to be a remarkably beautiful place, with abundance of fine timber … W. brought your dear nice letter; it makes me long to be with you, and, please God, I shall be so before long, as I set off this day fortnight.
Wednesday
Yesterday I had a great deal of scientific talk with Sir John, and a long walk in the grounds which are extensive, and very pretty. Then the Airys arrived, and we had a large party at dinner… I think, now, as I always have done, that Sir John is by much the highest and finest character I have ever met with; the most gentlemanly and polished mind, combined with the most exalted morality, and the utmost of human attainment. His view of everything is philosophic, and at the same time highly poetical, in short, he combines every quality that is admirable and excellent with the most charming modesty, and Lady Herschel is quite worthy of such a husband, which is the greatest praise I can give her. Their kindness and affection for me has been unbounded. Lady H. told me she heard such praises of you two that she is anxious to know you, and she hopes you will always look upon her and her family as friends. The christening went off as well as possible. Mr. Airy was godfather, and Mrs. Airy and I god-mothers, but I had the naming of the child – Matilda Rose, after Lady Herschel’s sister. I assure you I was quite adroit in taking the baby from the nurse and giving her to the clergyman. Sir John took Mrs. Airy and me a drive to see a very fine picturesque castle a few miles off… I have got loads of things for experiments on light from Sir John with a variety of papers, and you may believe that I have profited not a little by his conversation, and have a thousand projects for study and writing, so I think painting will be at a standstill, only that I have promised to paint something for Lady Herschel. Sir John computes four or five hours every day, and yet his Cape observations will not be finished for two years. I have seen everything he is or has been doing.
Your affectionate mother,
MARY SOMERVILLE
[My mother continues her recollections of this journey.]
My next visit was to Lord and Lady Charles Percy°, at Guy’s Cliff, in Warwickshire, a pretty picturesque place of historical and romantic memory. The society was pleasant, and I was taken to Kenilworth and Warwick Castle, on the banks of the Avon, a noble place, still bearing marks of the Wars of the Roses. I never saw such magnificent oak-trees as those on the Leigh estate, near Guy’s Cliff.
I then visited my maiden namesake, Mrs Fairfax, of Gilling Castle, Yorkshire. She was a highly cultivated person, had been much abroad, and was a warm-hearted friend. I was much interested in the principal room, for a deep frieze surrounds the wall, on which are painted the coats of arms of all the families with whom the Fairfaxes have intermarried, ascending to very great antiquity; besides, every pane of glass in a very large bay window in the same room is stained with one of these coats of arms. Every morning after breakfast a prodigious flock of pea-fowl came from the woods around to be fed.
I now went to the vicinity of Kelso to visit my brother and sister-in-law, General and Mrs Elliot, who lived on the banks of the Tweed. We went to Jedburgh, the place of my birth. After many years I still thought the valley of the Jed very beautiful: I fear the pretty stream has been invaded by manufactories; there is a perpetual war between civilisation and the beauty of nature. I went to see the spot from whence I once took a sketch of Jedburgh Abbey and the manse in which I was born, which does not exist, I believe, now. When I was a very young girl I made a painting from this sketch. Our next excursion was to a lonely village called Yetholm, in the hills, some miles from Kelso, belonging to the gipsies. The ‘king’ and the other men were absent, but the women were civil, and some of them very pretty. Our principal object in going there was to see a stone in the wall of a small and very ancient church at Linton, nearly in ruins, on which is carved in relief the wyvern100 and wheel, the crest of the Somervilles.
From Kelso I went to Edinburgh to spend a few days with Lord Jeffrey° and his family. No one who had seen his gentle kindness in domestic life, and the warmth of his attachment to his friends, could have supposed he possessed that power of ridicule and severity which made him the terror of authors. His total ignorance of science may perhaps excuse him for having admitted into the Review Brougham’s intemperate article on the undulatory theory of light, a discovery which has immortalised the name of Dr Young. I found Edinburgh, the city of my early recollections, picturesque and beautiful as ever, but enormously increased both to the north and to the south. Queen Street, which in my youth was open to the north and commanded a view of the Forth and the mountains beyond, was now in the middle of the new town. All those I had formerly known were gone – a new generation had sprung up living in all the luxury of modern times. On returning to London I spent a pleasant time with my son and his wife, who invited all those to meet me whom they thought I should like to see.
[1D, 214: I was now preparing to return to the rest of my family, when a widow lady, whom I had long known, was going to Rome with her daughter and offered me a seat in her carriage on paying my share of the expenses. I heartily repented having accepted her offer for I never witnessed such meanness. At breakfast when the waiter went out of the room, she would wrap a fowl and the left bread and butter in paper and put it in her bag to save the expense of dinner, and the squabbling with postboys at each stage brought a crowd around us and made me quite ashamed. I was thankful when this disagreeable journey was at an end, which was no doubt very ungrateful in me who had the benefit of her economy and who most needed it, for the lady in question left a hundred thousand pounds at her death. This story is also in the second draft but Martha must have thought it best not to publish it.]
[My mother returned to Rome in autumn in company with an old friend and her daughter.]
The winter passed without any marked event, but always agreeably; new people came, making a pleasant variety in the society, which, though still refined, was beginning to be very mixed, as was amusingly seen at Torlonia’s balls and tableaux, where many of the guests formed a singular contrast with the beautiful Princess, who was of the historical family of the Colonnas. I was often ashamed of my countrymen, who, all the while speaking of the Italians with contempt, tried to force themselves into their houses. Prince Borghese refused the same person an invitation to a ball five times.101 I was particularly scrupulous about invitations, and never asked for one in my life; nor did I ever seek to make acquaintance with the view of being invited to their houses.
[1D, 217–8: A lady asked me to receive a friend of hers from the United States who wished to make my acquaintance. He was accordingly announced next day and to my surprise entered followed by six or eight American friends all of whom were presented to me. When he had conversed with me for a few minutes, one of his companions said, ‘You have talked with Mrs Somerville long enough, now I want to talk with her,’ so down he sat, by and by another came and said, ‘Give me your place for it is my turn to have a talk with Mrs Somerville.’ So after each had had his talk they went away. The gravity with which this was carried on made it the more comical, I did not dare to look at Somerville or my girls all the time for fear I should laugh outright. That evening I told Mrs Butler, well-known as Fanny Kemble°, that a party of her American friends who were no doubt doing Rome had come to have a talk with Mrs Somerville, ‘O yes,’ she said, ‘they came directly from you to me and acted the same comedy.’]
[The following letters give a sketch of life during the summer months at Rome:—]
MRS SOMERVILLE TO W. GREIG, ESQ.
ROME, 3rd August, 1845
MY DEAR WORONZOW,
… I am glad you are so much pleased with my bust, and that it is so little injured after having been at the bottom of the sea. You will find Macdonald a very agreeable and original person. As to spending the summer in Rome, you may make yourself quite easy, for the heat is very bearable, the thermometer varying between 75° and 80° in our rooms during the day, which are kept in darkness, and at night it always becomes cooler. Thank God, we are all quite well, and Somerville particularly so; he goes out during the day to amuse himself, and the girls paint in the Borghese gallery. As for myself I have always plenty to do till half past three, when we dine, and after dinner I sleep for an hour or more, and when the sun is set we go out to wander a little, for a long walk is too fatiguing at this season. We have very little society, the only variety we have had was a very pretty supper party given by Signore Rossi, the French minister to the Prince and Princess de Broglie, son and daughter-in-law of the duke. The young lady is extremely beautiful, and as I knew the late Duchesse de Broglie (Madame de Staël’s daughter) we soon got acquainted. They are newly married, and have come to spend part of the summer in Rome, so you see people are not so much alarmed as the English… We went yesterday evening to see the Piazza Navona full of water; it is flooded every Saturday and Sunday at this season; there is music, and the whole population of Rome is collected round it, carts and carriages splashing through it in all directions. I think it must be about three feet deep. It was there the ancient Romans had their naval games; and the custom of filling it with water in summer has lasted ever since. The fountain is one of the most beautiful in Rome, which is saying a great deal; indeed the immense gush of the purest water from innumerable fountains in every street and every villa is one of the peculiarities of Rome. I fear from what I have heard of those in Trafalgar Square that the quantity of water will be very miserable.
The papers (I mean The Times), are full of abuse of Mr Sedgwick and Dr Buckland, but their adversaries write such nonsense that it matters little. I do not think I have anything to add to my new edition. If you hear of anything of moment let me know. Perhaps something may have transpired at the British Association…
Your affectionate mother,
MARY SOMERVILLE
MRS SOMERVILLE TO W. GREIG, ESQ.
ROME, May 28th, 1845
MY DEAR WORONZOW,
I don’t know why I have so long delayed writing to you. I rather think it is because we have been living so quiet a life, one day so precisely similar to the preceding, that there has been nothing worth writing about. This is our first really summer-like day, and splendid it is; but we are sitting in a kind of twilight. The only means of keeping the rooms cool is by keeping the house dark and shutting out the external air, and then in the evening we have a delightful walk; the country is splendid, the Campagna one sheet of deep verdure and flowers of every kind in abundance. We generally have six or seven large nosegays in the room; we have only to go to some of the neighbouring villas and gather them. Most of the English are gone; people make a great mistake in not remaining during the hot weather, this is the time for enjoyment. We are busy all the morning, and in the afternoon we take our book or drawing materials and sit on the grass in some of the lovely villas for hours; then we come home to tea, and are glad to see anyone who will come in for an hour or two. We have had a son of Mr. Babbage here. He is employed in making the railway that is to go from Genoa to Milan, and he was travelling with eight other Englishmen who came to make arrangements for covering Italy with a network of these iron roads, connecting all the great cities and also the two seas from Venice to Milan and Genoa and from Ancona by Rome to Civita Vecchia. However the Pope is opposed to the latter part, but they say the cardinals and people wish it so much that he will at last consent… Many thanks for the Vestiges, &c. I think it a powerful production, and was highly pleased with it, but I can easily see that it will offend in some quarters; however it should be remembered that there has been as much opposition to the true system of astronomy and to geological facts as there can be to this. At all events free and open discussion of all natural and moral phenomena must lead to truth at last. Is Babbage the author? I rather think he would not be so careful in concealing his name… [probably Vestiges of the Natural History of Creation by Robert Chambers].
[My mother made some curious experiments upon the effect of the solar spectrum on juices of plants and other substances, of which she sent an account to Sir John Herschel, who answered telling her that he had communicated her account of her experiments to the Royal Society.]
SIR JOHN HERSCHEL TO MRS SOMERVILLE
COLLINGWOOD, November 21st, 1845
MY DEAR MRS SOMERVILLE,
I cannot express to you the pleasure I experienced from the receipt of your letter and the perusal of the elegant experiments it relates, which appear to me of the highest interest and show (what I always suspected), that there is a world of wonders awaiting disclosure in the solar spectrum, and that influences widely differing from either light, heat or colour are transmitted to us from our central luminary, which are mainly instrumental in evolving and maturing the splendid hues of the vegetable creation and elaborating the juices to which they owe their beauty and their vitality. I think it certain that heat goes for something in evaporating your liquids and thereby causing some of your phenomena; but there is a difference of quality as well as of quantity of heat brought into view which renders it susceptible of analysis by the coloured juices so that in certain parts of the spectrum it is retained and fixed, in others reflected according as the nature of the tint favours the one or the other. Pray go on with these delightful experiments. I wish you could save yourself the fatigue of watching and directing your sunbeam by a clock work. If I were at your elbow I could rig you out a heliotrope quite sufficient with the aid of any common wooden clock… Now I am going to take a liberty (but not till after duly consulting Mr Greig with whose approbation I act, and you are not to gainsay our proceedings) and that is to communicate your results in the form of ‘an extract of a letter’ to myself – to the Royal Society. You may be very sure that I would not do this if I thought that the experiments were not intrinsically quite deserving to be recorded in the pages of the Phil. Trans, and if I were not sure that they will lead to a vast field of curious and beautiful research; and as you have already once contributed to the Society, (on a subject connected with the spectrum and the sunbeam) this will, I trust, not appear in your eyes in a formidable or a repulsive light, and it will be a great matter of congratulation to us all to know that these subjects continue to engage your attention, and that you can turn your residence in that sunny clime to such admirable account. So do not call upon me to retract (for before you get this the papers will be in the secretary’s hands).
I am here nearly as much out of the full stream of scientific matters as you at Rome. We had a full and very satisfactory meeting at Cambridge of the British Association, with a full attendance of continental magnetists and meteorologists, and within these few days I have learned that our Government meant to grant all our requests and continue the magnetic and meteorological observations. Humboldt has sent me his Cosmos (Vol.I.), which is good, all but the first 60 pages, which are occupied in telling his readers what his book is not to be. Dr. Whewell has just published another book on the Principles of Morals, and also another on education, in which he cries up the geometrical processes in preference to analysis…
Yours very faithfully,
J. Herschel
The Prince and Princesse de Broglie came to Rome in 1845, and Signore Pellegrino Rossi, at this time French Minister at the Vatican, gave them a supper party, to which we were invited. We had met with him long before at Geneva, where he had taken refuge after the insurrection of 1821. He was greatly esteemed there and admired for his eloquence in the lectures he gave in the university. It was a curious circumstance, that he, who was a Roman subject, and was exiled, and, if I am not mistaken, condemned to death, should return to Rome as French Minister. He had a remarkably fine countenance, resembling some ancient Roman bust. M. Thiers° had brought in a law in the French Chambers to check the audacity of the Jesuits, and Rossi was sent to negotiate with the Pope. We had seen much of him at Rome, and were horrified, in 1848, to hear that he had been assassinated on the steps of the Cancelleria, at Rome, where the Legislative Assembly met, and whither he was proceeding to attend its first meeting. No one offered to assist him, nor to arrest the murderers except Dr Pantaleone°, a much esteemed Roman physician, and member of the Chamber, who did what he could to save him, but in vain; he was a great loss to the Liberal cause.
Towards the end of summer we spent a month most agreeably at Subiaco, receiving much civility from the Benedictine monks of the Sacro Speco, and visiting all the neighbouring towns, each one perched on some hill-top, and one more romantically picturesque than the other. It was in this part of the country that Claude Lorrain and Poussin studied and painted.102 I never saw more beautiful country, or one which afforded so many exquisite subjects for a landscape painter. We went all over the country on mules – to some of the towns, such as Cervara, up steep flights of steps cut in the rock. The people, too, were extremely picturesque, and the women still wore their costumes, which probably now they have laid aside for tweeds and Manchester cottons.
I often during my winters in Rome went to paint from nature in the Campagna, either with Somerville or with Lady Susan Percy°, who drew very prettily. Once we set out a little later than usual, when, driving through the Piazza of the Bocca della Verità,103 we both called out, ‘Did you see that? How horrible!’ It was the guillotine; an execution had just taken place, and had we been a quarter of an hour earlier we should have passed at the fatal moment. Under Gregory XVI everything was conducted in the most profound secrecy; arrests were made almost at our very door, of which we knew nothing; Mazzini° was busily at work on one side, the Jesuitical party actively intriguing, according to their wont, on the other; and in the mean time society went on gaily at the surface, ignorant of and indifferent to the course of events. We were preparing to leave Rome when Gregory died. We put off our journey to see his funeral, and the Conclave, which terminated, in the course of scarcely two days, in the election of Pius IX°. We also saw the new Pope’s coronation, and witnessed the beginning of that popularity which lasted so short a time. Much was expected from him, and in the beginning of his reign the moderate liberals fondly hoped that Italy would unite in one great federation, with Pius IX at the head of it; entirely forgetting how incompatible a theocracy or government by priests ever must be with all progress and with liberal institutions. Their hopes were soon blighted, and after all the well-known events of 1848 and 1849, a reaction set in all over Italy, except in gallant little Piedmont, where the constitution was maintained, thanks to Victor Emmanuel°, and especially to that great genius, Camillo Cavour°, and in spite of the disastrous reverses at Novara. Once more in 1859 Piedmont went to war with Austria, this time with success, and with the not disinterested help of France. One province after another joined her, and Italy, freed from all the little petty princes, and last, not least, from the Bourbons, has become that one great kingdom which was the dream of some of her greatest men in times of old.
We went to Bologna for a short time, and there the enthusiasm for the new Pope was absolutely intolerable. ‘Viva Pio Nono!’ was shouted night and day. There was no repose; bands of music went about the streets, playing airs composed for the occasion, and in the theatres it was even worse, for the acting was interrupted, and the orchestra called upon to play the national tunes in vogue, and repeat them again and again, amid the deafening shouts and applause of the excited audience. We found the Bolognese very sociable, and it was by far the most musical society I ever was in. Rossini° was living in Bologna, and received in the evening, and there was always music, amateur and professional, at his house. Frequently there was part-singing or choruses, and after the music was over the evening ended with a dance. We frequently saw Rossini some years later, when we resided at Florence. He was clever and amusing in conversation, but satirical. He was very bitter against the modern style of opera-singing, and considered the singers of the present day, with some exceptions, as wanting in study and finish. He objected to much of the modern music, as dwelling too constantly on the highest notes of the voice, whereby it is very soon deteriorated, and the singer forced to scream; besides which, he considered the orchestral accompaniments too loud. I, who recollected Pasta, Malibran, Grisi, Rubini, and others of that epoch, could not help agreeing with him when I compared them to the singers I heard at the Pergola and elsewhere. The theatre, too, was good at Bologna, and we frequently went to it.
One evening we were sitting on the balcony of the hotel, when we saw a man stab another in the back of the neck, and then run away. The victim staggered along for a minute, and then fell down in a pool of blood. He had been a spy of the police under Gregory XVI, and one of the principal agents of his cruel government. He was so obnoxious to the people that his assassin has never been discovered.
From Bologna we went for a few weeks to Recoaro, where I drank the waters, after which we travelled to England by the St Gothard Pass.
85 Gum-cistus: a shrub of the genus Cistus, which yields laudanum.
86 In his Histoire naturelle des oiseaux (‘Natural History of Birds’) 1771, 10 vols., Georges Louis, Comte de Buffon (1707–88) so characterises the large-eared night owl. The large ‘ears’, or ‘horns’, are actually tufts of feathers above the eyes.
87 A villegiatura is a country or holiday place.
88 Stornelli are Tuscan folk songs with three-line stanzas; they are often improvised. Rispetti have eight-line stanzas; the form has also attracted composers.
89 Grosso gatto: ‘large cat’, when what is intended is a ‘large cake’. The confusion is with the French gâteau; the Italian for ‘cake’ is torta. Costolette alla sorella: ‘cutlets in the manner of the sister’. Perhaps she was trying to find the Italian for sorrell, which is actually acetosa. Pulini i lampi would mean to ‘clean the flashes of lightning’; Italian for ‘lamps’ is lampade. Peau means skin in this usage. The lady wanted to say that she had come in person, not that she was ‘Venus in person’, but she uses the wrong part of venir: she should have said venue en personne. Presumably, Mary Somerville wants to protect Elizabeth Barrett Browning from having told a slightly bitchy story. It is worth remarking, however, that Mary Somerville must have been upset by Barrett Browning’s belief in spirit-rapping: see p. 277. Yet she clearly admires her otherwise.
90 Via del Corso, usually simply called ‘Il Corso’, has been one of the important thoroughfares in the city since Roman times. It runs from the Piazza del Popolo to the Piazza Venezia; it is straight, almost a mile long, but surprisingly narrow, so that both pavements and road are always crowded, even now when the movement of private traffic is restricted.
91 The Great Comet of 1843 has no other name and we need not hope to see it again, since it has an orbit of 512.57 years.
92 The original edition has the following note: ‘The vessel on board which this bust was shipped for England ran on a shoal and sank, but as the accident happened in shallow water, the bust was recovered, none the worse for its immersion in salt water.’
93 Rococo style probably derived from the French rocaille, shell-or pebblework; the term refers to a style of interior decoration first introduced in France in the early 18th century. The style developed from Baroque but was lighter and more frivolous, characterised by gilded carving, light backgrounds and mirrors.
94 Modena ceased to be ruled by the Grand Dukes after its representatives declared it part of Italy in 1859. This was confirmed by the plebiscite of 1860.
95 Castello Estense is the former palace of the Dukes. It is a massive quadrilateral surrounded by a moat and approached by drawbridges.
96 The Mausoleum of Theodoric was begun by Theodoric the Ostrogoth. It is hewn out of stone without mortar and crowned by a monolithic roof.
97 The Roman city of Iguvium, which became Eugubium, was sacked by the Goths but became a free commune in the 11th century. The Eugubian tables, preserved in the Palazzo dei Consoli at Gubbio are fundamental documents for the study of the Umbrian language.
98 The Elgin Marbles, ancient Greek marble statues from the Parthenon, were sold to the British Museum in 1816 by Lord Elgin for £35,000. He had saved them from the Turks who were using them for target practice during their occupation of Athens. James Rich (1787–1820) travelled extensively in the East. When he was the East India Company’s representative at Baghdad, he amassed oriental collections which were purchased by the British Museum after his death from cholera at Shiraz. Fragments of the sculptures which adorned the Mausoleum of Halicarnassus are in the British Museum: this ancient Greek tomb was built (363–361 bc) as a monument monuto Mausolus of Caria by his widow. The archaeologist, Sir Austen Henry Layard (1817–94) excavated the Assyrian capital of Nineveh and its co-capital, Nimrud, finding masterpieces of cuneiform literature. Gigantic statues of winged bulls were transported from Nimrud.
99 Turner’s studio was not usually found to be a welcoming place, yet the rich and the famous regularly turned up there. The Times of 10 November 1856 describes it thus:
In that desolate house – 47 Queen Anne Street, West – from 1812 to 1851, lived Joseph Mallord William Turner, the greatest landscape painter of the English school. Hanging along a bare and chilly gallery on the first floor of that gloomy house, stacked against the walls, rolled up in dark cupboards, flung aside into damp cellars, the rain streaming down the canvasses from the warped sashes and paper-patched frames of the ill-fitting skylights, were collected some of the noblest landscapes that were ever painted, while piles of drawings even more masterly, and reams of sketches, the rudiments and first thoughts of finished works, were piled away in portfolios, and cupboards, and boxes, in every nook and corner of the dark and dusty dwelling.
100 In heraldry the wyvern is a winged dragon with two feet like an eagle’s and a serpent-like barbed tail.
101 The Torlonia and Borghese families became connected in the later 19th century. Among the 19th-century representatives of the families, Prince Giuseppe Torlonia was a Roman banker; Camillo Fillipo Borghese married Napoleon’s sister Pauline.
102 Claude Lorrain (Claude Gellée: 1600–82), the French landscape painter, settled in Rome from 1626. He is famous for his paintings of an idealised Roman countryside, often including small biblical or classical figures. Nicholas Poussin (1594–1665) also painted classical scenes in the Roman countryside but the narrative is always much more prominent than in Claude and his classicism more severe. These painters, along with the Italian, Salvator Rosa (1615–73), who painted sublime and rugged landscapes, provided ways of seeing and interpreting the natural world for more than a century.
103 The Piazza della Bocca della Verità is named from a large disc representing a human face on the wall outside the church of Santa Maria in Cosmedin. The open mouth is supposed to close on the hand of any perjurer who dares to place it within. It is actually a slab that once closed a drain.