Canova has done me the honour to consult me about a church which he is going to build at Posanio in the Venetian states, his native place. It is to consist of a dome 90 feet in diameter, with a portico copied from the Parthenon. I doubt if the parts will harmonize well, but as that was already decided, I contented myself with suggesting a few minor alterations, which will not be adopted. I inquired of the architect how much it would cost. He said that he could not tell how much it would cost at Posanio, where the stone was at hand, and where the peasantry would probably assist considerably, without compensation; but that in Rome such a building could not be executed for less than 250,000 crowns. It is a noble thing for such a man as Canova to lay out his money in public edifices, and it is very pleasing to contemplate the willingness of the peasantry to assist in a useful work, where their parts are likely soon to be forgotten. In England it is difficult to find people who will play the second fiddle at their own expense, since all the honour and praise go to the leader.
We have had a scheme for dragging the Tiber, which is a most palpable job; yet I meet persons eager about it, who are not at all likely to have any share of the profits. I have just made a calculation, that if the expenses amount to 33,000 crowns, which is the proposed sum; and the value of the objects found to 72,576 crowns, which seems quite as much as can reasonably be expected; then the Pope, who contributes nothing, would claim to the value of 27,216; the director or superintendent would receive for his services 12,360; and the subscribers would receive their money back again, losing nothing but the interest for two years.
The fêtes here in honour of the emperor are very splendid, and the illumination of St. Peter’s finer than any thing I had been able to imagine, in spite of all the descriptions I had heard of it. All the leading lines of the architecture were marked with lamps, which appeared very brilliant, and from the great extent of the edifice, superior to any thing I had before seen. Suddenly at one hour of the night, i. e. about an hour and a quarter after sunset, the sudden inflammation of all the greater lamps, or lampioni, almost made it doubtful if the previous illumination had existed. The operation of lighting these lampioni over the whole building did not occupy three minutes. It is said that above six hundred men are employed for the purpose, and the effect is quite magical. After this, came the fireworks at Castle St. Angelo. A flight of 4,500 rockets (and very fine rockets) made a complete canopy of fire. You may suppose that a circular building, near 200 feet in diameter, rising on a large, square basement, and standing entirely detached, is an admirable place for such an exhibition; and every advantage is made of the situation.
Another night we had a festival, with illuminations and fireworks at the Capitol, at the same hour of the evening; the effect was superb. What pleased me best was a fountain of fire, which seemed to rise with the rushing force of a Chinese gerb from the centre of a bason, and fell copiously over its circumference in the softer fire of the Roman candle. Inside, the rooms were hung with white and coloured draperies, ornamented with gold stars. The emperor may I think be satisfied with his reception from the government, but I do not know whether he will like that from the people, who seem to behold him at best with great indifference. I am told they are displeased with him for having given up the title of Roman emperor, a whimsical source of discontent. His manners are merely negative; not haughty and distant, but at the same time without any thing gracious or prepossessing.
LETTER LIX.
JOURNEY TO FLORENCE—PISA
Pisa, 18th May, 1819.
There was so great a scarcity of vetture at Rome, that I could not get away till the 30th of April, and then it was along the road by Perugia, which I had seen at my leisure and did not intend to revisit. I had pleasant companions, and a civil and obliging vetturino, which makes a great deal of difference in the comfort of an Italian journey. We slept the first night at Cività Castellana. The second day we were detained above an hour at Narni by one of the party, who being a canonico, and the day a festa, could not eat till he had attended mass; and not finding any priest performing, was obliged to officiate himself. From Terni we made an excursion to visit the cascade, but it was in a soaking rain, as was the case during the greater part of the three first days of our journey. On the fourth it was finer; and we engaged our driver to stop at the Madonna degli Angeli, a noble church built by Vignola, while we walked up to Assisi, seated on a hill about two miles from the road. It is a neat city, with very steep streets, and the inhabitants saluted us with great civility and an appearance of kindness, unlike the sort of half-sulkiness we meet with in those bordering on the Campagna di Roma. Here is an ancient Corinthian temple, or at least a portico, almost entire. The columns are on high plinths, or plain pedestals, between which the steps are formed; the foliage of the capitals is like that of the Greek capitals of the temple of Vesta at Rome, or of Castor and Pollux at Cora. A thick stucco covers the flutes, and almost fills up the scotia. It is perhaps an addition, but the stone is roughly worked, and must have been intended for stucco.
The Cathedral has a curious Gothic front. The nave is a continued vault, without groins, and without windows; and this comparatively dark avenue, leading to a spacious, and well lighted centre, pleased me much. From this I went to the Convent of St. Francis, a very extensive pile, and finely placed. There are two churches, one over the other: in the lower of these they were celebrating the forty hours (i. e. the consecrated wafer is exposed during that time). The building, naturally gloomy, was very much darkened for the purpose, while the high altar was brilliantly illuminated, and here again was a very fine, picturesque effect. The Italians frequently darken their churches, in order to enhance the splendour of the altar, and perhaps also because they consider a degree of gloom as favourable to religious impressions; but in general they require that the building should be naturally light, to exhibit the riches of the architecture, and the painting and sculpture with which it is adorned; as well as to admit a character of cheerfulness and splendour in their gayer festivals. The Roman Catholics press all the lighter emotions of the heart into the service of religion, which with us maintains a more solemn and serious character. The upper church is a simple, Gothic hall, with some very interesting early paintings. It is without side aisles, pretty well proportioned, although it might perhaps have been more lofty, and much, and perhaps rather gaudily, ornamented. Yet certainly painting and gilding, if well applied, tend to deepen the impression, even of the most severe and solemn styles of architecture.
Below Assisi is a large church built by Vignola, and dedicated to Santa Maria degli Angeli. The meaning of this title I cannot tell you, but it is not uncommon in Italy. It is a fine church, but without any great display externally. Internally, the vault of the nave is unbroken by windows, and only receives a chastened light from those of the side aisles. The effect is solemn and beautiful. The choir has windows in the vault, and thus brings into comparison the two methods, certainly to the disadvantage of the latter. In the centre is a small Gothic building, which is an object of great veneration, as having been the residence of St. Francis. On the outside of the church is a long cistern, with twenty-six spouts of water continually running into it; in England we should have been content with one or two, but the twenty-six keep the water so much the purer, and it is one of the charms of Italian architecture, that the imagination is not continually dragged down to listen to the excuses of a painful economy. We passed Perugia without stopping, and slept at a miserable inn called Casa del Piano. At Arezzo we only got out for a few minutes to see the cathedral, and reached Florence about half-past six in the evening of the fifth day, in a soaking rain.
The short time I spent at Florence on this visit passed very pleasantly among artists and botanists. I have been introduced to Benvenuti, the best painter in Florence, and perhaps in Italy. In design and composition he is decidedly superior to Camuccini of Rome; indeed I know no paintings in which the story is more clearly and distinctly told than in those of this artist. In expression and colouring, he is equal to the Roman; in drawing, both as to truth, and beauty of form, he is inferior. He looked at my sketches; and I am happy to find that I have enough to tire out every body; for when the attention begins to be fatigued, it leaves the imagination at liberty to suppose them more, and better, than they really are. Sr. Digni di Cambray and Puccianti are architects to the grand duke. The latter conducted me to some alterations in the Pitti palace. He was covering rooms 25 feet wide (this is a guess) with a simple vault of bricks laid flatwise, but in a diagonal direction, in plaster. The bricks are 12 inches long, 6 wide, and 2 thick, so that the latter dimension is the thickness of the vault, except occasional ribs formed by another course of bricks, also laid flat; no centering is used, except a cut board as a guide; and the vault thus formed, may be walked over without danger.