From the Oak to the Olive: A Plain record of a Pleasant Journey

by Julia Ward Howe

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 noble 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 noble 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 littérateurs. The group of Goethe and Schiller, crowned and hand in hand, suggests one of the noblest 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 attitude 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.