Friday, August 23.— Mass at 7½ in the cathedral for the last time. After breakfast a visit from Mr. Dugdale and old Görres, and a talk with Mr. Woodwich, a very nice young Anglican, whom Phillipps met at Cologne, and came yesterday to Munich. The horses came for our departure at 11, but we did not start till ¼ to 1. I sat in the carriage saying office. We had a pretty journey, approaching a line of fine mountains. We reached a town called Tegern See, and we put up at Le Troitteur Hof. When we came to dine, we found ourselves worse off than we have yet been. No bread without aniseed, and hardly enough to eat for all but me, who took meat. However, this is an interesting spot. Out of my window I have a sweet view of the lake and mountains opposite, with a bright moon upon them.
Saturday, August 24.— I went before 7 to find the old priest to say mass. The church is a handsome one attached to a large building which once was a Benedictine convent, but was turned by the old king, my former acquaintance, into a country palace. Prince Charles lives here now. The old priest was one of the monks. There are four now alive out of forty-three. We started at 9, and went through beautiful mountain scenery, especially that part of the road which lies along the bank of Achensee, a beautiful blue lake. We dined at about 2, at Achenthal, just before coming to the lake. We were delayed by a spring breaking, and only reached Schwartz, a town of 4,500 people. The inn La Poète is kept by Anthony Reiner, one of a family of three men and a sister, who about 1830 were 2½ years in England, singing Tyrolese songs, and made £4,000. Mrs. Ambrose heard them at Sir Thomas Acland's. We had tea in the billiard-room, and saw some beautiful play.
Sunday, Aug. 25.— I said mass at 6½, at the Franciscan church. In the convent are twenty-one priests and twenty-five students, besides lay brothers. I recommended England and was kindly heard. After breakfast we went together to the parish church; at 8 a sermon begins—we heard the end of it, preached by a Franciscan. Mass follows the sermon. The style of music, both here and in the Franciscan church, where I heard part of the high mass, is high figured. We set off for Innspruck after. It was raining all the way. We arrived at 2 at the Golden Sun (die goldene Sonne), in a fine wide street. We had dinner, during which we were surprised and pleased by a visit from Mrs. Amherst and Mary. She has a house in this street, and saw us pass by. Three daughters are with her. Soon after we went to see the Franciscan church, in which is the famous monument of Maximilian, and round it bronze figures of illustrious personages, and on the side a marble monument of Hoffa. They are not all saints, and it is thought to be an unbecoming ornament to a church. They certainly cause distractions by the number of people who come to see the sculpture, which makes this small church almost like a Glyptotheke. After this, Mrs. Amherst took me to the Redemptorists, where Father Prost talks English, and received me most cordially, and presented me to the Rector. I then went to the Franciscan convent, where, as at Munich, I saw the fathers at supper, and recommended England to the Provincial, who promised to convey my wishes to the 300 subjects of the 10 houses of his province. In this little house there are eight priests. He sent a man to take me to the Decanus, living near the parish church, to ask for leave to hear confessions to-morrow. He was a most amiable, kind old man, and promised to speak for me to all the clergy. I went to meet our party at tea with the Amhersts at 7, and had a very pleasant evening. Home at 9¼.
Monday, Aug. 26th.— Father Prost gave himself to me all to-day. I went to say mass at the Redemptorist church; breakfasted there; then went out with him to the hospital of the Sisters of Charity, where there are 15 nuns, and it is the mother house of about eight houses in all. They are under the direction of the Redemptorists. Then to the Jesuits' college, where we saw the Rector; then to dine with the Redemptorists at 12. They are about ten in number. The Rector is most zealous for my cause. At 2 we walked out of the town to a fine Premonstratensian abbey to which belong 42 monks; but about half are employed as coadjutors to parish priests. The Abbot received us very kindly, and showed us all over his house, which has a great suite of fine rooms, full of pictures of great personages. We came back to settle for my departure to-morrow; and lastly visited the Servites. They have a fine large house in the great street. Their number is only fifteen. Lastly, we called on a lady who can talk English, having learned it, where Father Prost did, in America. I went at 6½ to tea with the Amhersts, among whom I also found William just come. I went home to stay at the Redemptorists, in order to be able to say mass to-morrow. The Rector and Father Prost sat some time with me.
Tuesday, Aug. 27th.—Said mass at 3½; at 4½, Father Prost saw me in the still-wagen, or omnibus, for Brixen. I forgot to say that Phillipps agreed with me to meet at Caldaron on Thursday. They went off yesterday by Landeck, Marenn, &c., for finer scenery. I took my way to see the Bishop of Brixen. My principal companions were four students at the Inspruck University, going out for their vacations. They were two couples of brothers, one called Ehrhart, the other Benz, all of Inspruck. The weather was become beautiful, and we went through splendid scenery. We went over the Brenner mountain, and were going till 8 o'clock at night. We stopped three times for refreshment: at Matraey, Strarzing, and Mittewald. We came to the Kreutz Hof—the Cross Inn—at Brixen, where I took my bed. First, I went to see a pleasing old priest, by name Graffanara, who is Domscholasticus here, and whom I saw by chance at Inspruck. He told of the Bishop being gone to Botzen, and introduced me to the Decanus and Parish Priest, to settle for mass to-morrow.
Wednesday, Aug. 28th. Great St. Augustine's.—I was up soon after 3, and went to the Pffarr-Kirche, where I said mass at 4. The Pffarr treated me with extraordinary respect and kindness, and came back with me to my inn, where I started again, with the same company, to Botzen, in another still-wagen, at 5. We followed the downward course of a beautiful torrent, through rocks and mountains all the way, till we reached Botzen, at 12. I went to the Kaiser's Krone, and dined at the table d'hôte at 12½, next to an English gentleman, by name Harley, who was chiefly taken up with attacks on cookery out of England. He was a man of much information, and gave gloomy accounts of the prospect of war with France. His father was an admiral. I stayed at home till 4½, then went out to the Capuchins and then to the Capellani—the Paroco being out. The chief Capellano came back with me to the hotel, and waited till the Bishop of Brixen came in. He had been out in the country. I was admitted to see him, but quite disappointed in my hopes of finding help from him. He gave me no signs of zeal, and hardly spoke of England. Perhaps it may be for the better some way. No doubt disappointments are good for me, and so thank God for this one. I afterwards went to the Franciscans, where I found real sympathy in one of the fathers, with whom I walked in the garden. This was a refreshment after the Bishop. In the evening I had a visit from the young Baron Giovanelli, whose father has some authority about sending people to see Maria Mörl. He could hardly speak Italian, and though very civil, did not help me much.
Thursday, 29th.— The good Bishop sent me to-day a present of a large number of religious prints, with German instructions, and showed thus his good will to me; and I hope it may be well for my cause. At 7½ I said mass in the cathedral. At 10 I went in a one-horse carriage to Calddaron, or more rightly Caltern. I went directly to see Father Capistrano, confessor to Maria Mörl, at a Franciscan convent, and then dined at the White Horse inn. At 4½, according to his direction, I went to the convent of the Tertiariae, where Maria Mörl has been for ten years, being removed from her father's house by the Bishop, at her own request, to avoid being seen by so many people. I waited in the convent church till Father Capistrano, who is a tall and venerable monk, I suppose of forty-five years old, came to call me, with eight or nine other persons, to see the estatica. (N.B. Father Capistrano told me that the Bishop of Brixen is very deaf, and probably understood nothing of what I talked about, which explains all my disappointment.) We went into a small room within her convent, rather darkened, where the first sight of Maria on her knees upon her bed was most striking. She kneels with her head and eyes fixed upwards, her hands joined before her breast, just below the chin, and her body leaning forwards in a position out of the centre of gravity, in which, ordinarily, no one could continue without support. It is most moving to see her thus—I think more so than in any of the other positions which she assumed. This was the time when on every Thursday she goes through the contemplation of the Agony of Our Lord; and so, soon after we came in, she being quite unconscious of what goes on around her, began to make signs in her throat of earnest emotion, and then, clenching her hands together, she dropped her head over them, her long, flowing hair being thrown forward over her face, as it were accompanying our Lord in the commencement of His prayer in the garden; after about five minutes thus, she suddenly bends down, placing her face between her knees, as when our Lord was prostrate in His agony. After another five minutes, she rises, her face again fixed with expression of intense earnestness on heaven, and her arms extended back downwards, as expressing perfect resignation. After five or ten minutes thus, she returns calmly to her original attitude of prayer, and thus remained till Father Capistrano spoke to her by name, saying a few words almost indistinctly, and she instantly returned to herself, reclined back on her bed, and, without exertion of moving her limbs, appeared simply recumbent, with the bed-cover over her whole body. I did not see her rise again, but this is done instantly without effort, in the same way. The moment that she was thus awakened from the ecstasy, she looked round on us all with great good-humour, and smiled; and, being forbidden to speak, she made many signs, asking questions of some whom she knew before. One priest, il Conte Passi, offered her some cotton perfumed from the body of Sta. Maria Maddalena di Pazzi; but she would not have it, nor smell it, refusing it in a truly pleasant way. I spoke of praying for England, and she nodded graciously, but did not take much apparent notice. I suppose she does it about nothing but what comes by obedience. If the conversation had a pause, she immediately became again absorbed in God till Father Capistrano recalled her again. After a proper time, he gave us signs to retire; on which she earnestly made signs for a cartoon-box full of holy prints to be brought, and she began with great earnestness to turn them over, seeming to recollect herself very intently. She then gave me two, and afterwards another. I was struck when I saw the first was a figure of St. George, as she had not heard my name I knew. Afterwards, I supposed she might allude only to England, as she knew I was English. Soon after, she fell back into ecstasy as she lay, and we went away. I walked down to the inn with Conte Passi and a priest of the place, who visits her nearly every day. I began a letter, when, about 6, I was agreeably surprised by seeing Phillipps and his party drive up. He and I went to the Franciscan convent, but could not see Father Capistrano. Conte Passi and I slept in the same room, and into a third bed tumbled some one else, I thought, like the ostler, after we were in bed. I slept none the worse, and why should I?
Friday, Aug. 30.— Said mass in the parish church at eight. Phillipps after breakfast went and had a long conversation with Father Capistrano, who received to-day a letter from the Bishop of Trent, to give leave for all of us to see the estatica. Phillipps came back with wonderful accounts of Father Capistrano's views of the future in the Church. He has no bright anticipations. I wrote all the morning, letters to Dr. Döllinger, Signor Giovanelli, and Mr. LeSage Ten Broek. We dined at 1. At 2½ we all went to the convent church, where, as yesterday, P. Capistrano came to take us to la Mörl. Three o'clock, being the time of Our Lord's death, this is the subject of her contemplation at that time every Friday. Soon after we came in, from the attitude of prayer in which we found her as yesterday; she again clasped her hands, and, looking up with an expression of suffering, she continued for some time to make a sort of sobbing noise, and stertation, as I have seen people dying of apoplexy; this grew more painful till, exactly at three, she dropped her head forward, and her hands yet clasped hung down before her and so she remained quite motionless, still leaning forward beyond the perpendicular, "inclinato capite emisit spiritum." This continued till, at one of those almost inaudible suggestions of the confessor, she fell back on the bed, as yesterday, but still in ecstasy, and extended her hands in the form of a crucifix. The fingers were guttered over the palm of the hands, but yet we saw plainly in the palm the sacred stigma. I saw it yesterday outside both her hands, quite plainly, as she was distributing the prints. The marks are not as of an open wound, but red cicatrices like those represented in pictures of Our Saviour when risen from the dead. Father Capistrano said that she eats a little bread and fruit occasionally, not every day; she communicates three or four times a week; she sleeps generally in the night, I understood, but her spirit still continues in a less degree of contemplation. She had a younger sister with her in the convent, to wait on her. The Emperor allows her 400 florins a year. On more solemn feasts, the ecstasy is more intense, and she then appears for a time raised above the bed, touching it only with the tips of her feet. The priest whom I saw yesterday says that he has himself passed his hand at those times under her knees without touching them. It is a rule that no money is given by visitors either to her or the convent. We went away, and prepared for our departure about 4. I engaged a small one-horse carriage to go to Egna in Italian, in German Neumarkt, intending to see the Addolorata, and to meet the Phillippses again at Venice. I began to have a distaste to the rude-looking driver, at the first sight, still more, when I found that the carriage belonged to a priest who had come from Egna this morning. I made it straight for time by taking him with me. A second nuisance was, finding, when I set off, that Phillipps had to go to the same place, as his first stage towards Trent. In a narrow road down the hill, out of Caldaro, we met an immense number of carts, loaded with hay, and drawn by oxen, from eighty to a hundred, which was a good delay, and Phillipps's carriage got terribly scratched in passing one. At Egna, I put up at the Krono. I went out to see a priest, who took me to the Franciscans about saying mass tomorrow. I preached England.
Saturday, Aug. 31.— I fell into the hands of the sulky driver of yesterday, who undertook to find me a mule to go over the mountains at once to Capriana, but he came last night to say none was to be found; I heard before that there was danger of this in harvest time. I therefore first said mass at the Franciscans', at 3 o'clock, doubtful whether it was not uncanonically early, and at 4 went with my friend driving me, with one horse on the left of the pole, to Cavallesi, a small town in the mountains, which we reached at 8 o'clock. There I saw the physician of Dominica Lazzari, whom Count Passi told me to go to. He was very civil, and recommended me a pleasant guide, who at 9 set off, walking by the pony which I rode to Cavallesi. The day was beautiful, and not too hot for me, though it was for him on foot. It was a most interesting, picturesque ride of 2¼ hours, reminding me of my Sicilian and other rides long since, and I was surprised how this seemed to agree with me now. Capriana is a little very poor village, occupying a spot on an open space, high among the mountains. The very first cottage in the body of the town, and one of the poorest, is where this wonderful being spends her suffering days. The Medico Yoris had written me a note to the primissario, or second priest to the curate, who is Dominica's confessor, who might have helped me about seeing her; but he was not at home, so we went to the house at once. The door of the little place, a part of a building, where Dominica lives with her sister, was locked. The sister was out. I heard her groaning slightly at every breath. She made something of an answer when my guide knocked. He went to seek her sister, and came back saying that she begged us to delay a little, as others had been with her, and she was much fatigued. So we went to the Osteria, and got the best they could give, which was a brodo d'acqua, in English, I fancy, tea-kettle broth. This shows that the place is not chosen for its riches to be honoured by God with His wonders. After this pause we returned to the little house, which has a Tyrolese roof overhanging, and a little gallery outside her door. The sister, who is married and has her children about her, took us in, and in an inner room we saw the Addolorata in her bed. Her appearance naturally will not have been interesting, like that of Maria Mörl, but rather of an ordinary young countrywoman, of low stature, like her sister. She has ordinarily the appearance of great pain and suffering; but when I spoke to her about England, she lifted her eyes and moved her hands in a way more earnest than l'estatica, and showed great feeling at the thought of its conversion. Now for her appearance: her face was almost all covered with clotted blood, which flowed, I suppose, yesterday morning, for so it does every Friday, from the punctures as of thorns on her brow. These were not, as I expected, irregularly placed as by a crown of thorns made at hazard, but they formed a line close together on the forehead, and do not go round the head to the back part. Her legs were gathered up as if the sinews were contracted; her body, the doctor told me, is all covered with sores, which, the more that is done to cure, the worse they grow. She keeps her hands clenched before her heart, and groans slightly with every breath. On her hands were seen stigmata, much more marked than Maria Mörl, like fresh wounds by a nail passing through and sinking into the flesh. Her sister said the same was the case with her side and feet. I only spoke to her a little about England, and was delighted at her manner then, which shows how superior she is to her pains. It seems to distress her to be too near her, and as I have learned since it does. She is always hot; her sister was fanning her all the time, and in the depth of winter it is the same thing, when snow drives into her room. She also gives her prints; she made her sister show her prints out of a little case, and when she has chosen them she kisses them and gives them to each with great kindness. There were a young man and woman there, who offered money for them to her sister, but she will take nothing. The sight of her is not at first so striking and pleasing as of la Mörl, but the remembrance is more impressive. It seems a state more meritorious, more humble. It is more poor, and patient. Having been delayed so long, I could not get to Cavallesi till 3; the sulky face of the driver betokened no good for my return; the horse, too, he said was ill, and in fine, he brought me to Egna just too late for the still-wagen to Lavorno, and I was not so patient as I ought to have been after seeing that example, but I was helped by it a little. I had to take a carriage for myself and the same miserable driver, who was going to sleep all the way, and grunted at me once when I awoke him. I got to a nice inn at Lavorno, the white house again.
Sunday, Sept. 1.— I started at 5 by a still-wagen for Trent, all alone in it. I came to the Rose Inn, and waited to say mass at the Church di S. Maria Maggiora, where the Council of Trent was held, and prayed, as usual on Sundays, for the gift of Faith, which was appropriate here. The church is quite uninteresting in appearance. I breakfasted at a cafe, and went about my way of travelling; then at ¼ to 11 went and heard the end of a high mass. I thought to be in time for all. After it I was very happy in getting myself introduced to the Bishop, who was extremely agreeable, and said he prayed daily for England, and promised to recommend it to Maria la Mörl, and to all the clergy. I left, as if I need take no more trouble about Trent. I went to the Rosa, and stayed there quiet till dinner at 12½, and then till 4, writing my long days of late in the Journal. At 4, I got into a carriage carrying four inside to Roveredo, where I got to the Corona, and went to bed at 8½ or 9.