So only with a view to perform my promise:—
Isola Bella.—Place yourself on the very highest point, and look right and left, before and behind you,—the whole of the island and the whole of the lake are at your feet.
Venice.—Do not forget Casa Pisani, with its Paul Veronese, and the Manfrini Gallery, with its marvellous ‘Cithern Player’ by Giorgione, and a ditto, ‘Entombment,’ by Titian (Hensel laughs at me). Compose something in honour of the ‘Cithern Player;’ I did so. When you see the ‘Assumption of the Virgin,’ think of me. Observe how dark the head of Mary—and indeed her whole figure stands out against the bright sky; the head looks quite brown, and there is an ineffable expression of enthusiasm and overflowing felicity, that no one could believe without having actually seen it. If you don’t think of me, too, at sight of the golden glory of the sky behind Mary,—then there is an end of all things! Likewise two certain cherubs’ heads, from which an ox might learn what true beauty is; and if the ‘Presentation of Mary,’ and the woman selling eggs underneath, do not please you,—then call me a blockhead! Think of Goethe when you see the Lions in front of the Arsenal: “Stehen zwei altgriechische Löwen,” etc. Sail in a gondola at night, meeting other black gondolas hurrying along. If you don’t then think of all sorts of love stories, and other things which might occur within them while they glide by so quickly,—then am I a dolt!
Florence.—The following are among my notes on the portrait gallery (see if you find them true, and write to me on the subject):—
“Comparison between the head and its production, between the man’s work and his exterior—the artist and his portrait. Titian, vigorous and royal; Domenichino, precise, bright, very astute, and buoyant; Guido, pale, dignified, masterly, keen; Lanfranco, a grotesque mask; Leonello Spada, a good-natured fanfaron and a reveller; Annibale Carracci, peeping and prying; the two Caraccis, like the members of a guild; Caravaggio, rather commonplace and cat-like; Guercino, handsome and affected, melancholy and dark; Bellini the red-haired, the stern, old-fashioned teacher; Giorgione, chivalrous, fantastic, serene, and clear; Leonardo da Vinci, the lion; in the middle, the fragile, heavenly Raphael, and over him Michael Angelo, ugly, vigorous, malignant; Carlo Dolce, a coxcomb; Gerard Dow, a mere appendage among his kitchen utensils,” etc. etc.
In the large gallery to the left of the tribune, look at a little picture by Fra Bartolommeo, scarcely larger than this sheet of paper, but with two doors, all so neatly and carefully painted and finished. When you enter the gallery, salute first the busts of the Medici, for they were its founders. In the tribune there are some good things. Do not fail to see all the painted churches, which are quite beyond belief,—Maria Novella, St. Annunziata (you must see Andrea del Sarto there; remark also Fra Bartolommeo falling backwards downstairs from terror, because the angel has already been painting on his canvas). Examine also this said angel’s painting in the ‘Annunciation’ of Fra Bartolommeo; it is very fine (Hensel laughs).
To St. Marco, the Academy, etc. etc.
If the site of Brunelli’s statue, near the Duomo, does not please you, I can’t help you. The Duomo itself is not bad. Walk about a great deal.
Milan.—Don’t fail to go to the top of the cathedral, on account of the millions of pinnacles, and the splendid view.
Genoa.—It is pleasant to be in the Villetta Negri at nightfall.