Amid so choice a circle there unfolded itself for the young artist a spiritual and intense life, to which she abandoned herself with all the joyous simplicity and freshness of an artistic nature; a nature which was susceptible also to the beautiful and the grand in other things—in poetry, in music, and in science. The quiet, friendly lady-artist became everywhere a favorite.
But, amid all these manifold occupations, there was ever a certain earnestness, a striving out of the temporal into the eternal. Even art was not to her a mere amusement. Genuine art possesses an ennobling power, and she experienced what Michael Angelo once said to his friend Vittoria Colonna, "True painting is naturally religious and noble; for even the struggle toward perfection elevates the soul to devotion, draws it near to God and unites it with him." Attracted by the pure and lofty in art, Miss Linder gave preference to religious painting, a taste which was encouraged by her sterling master: and it caused her, though a Protestant, special gratification, while ever seeking the best studies, to paint or copy, whenever she could, devotional church pictures.
In order to become acquainted, through actual observation, with the principal works of Christian art, she determined on a journey to Italy. Her first visit she decided to confine to the cities of upper Italy, and in company with Professor Schlotthauer and his wife, this plan was carried out during the summer and autumn of 1825. Milan, Verona, Padua, Venice, Bologna, were visited, and, led by the hand of her intelligent master, they all passed under her examination. The goal of her travel was to be Florence. But the long-continued, fine autumn weather attracted the travellers further and further, and at length they came to Perugia, the middle point of the Umbrian school, and thence to the neighboring, picturesque-lying Assisi. At this place a little circumstance occurred which became of deep significance in the after life of the artist.
The vetturino, familiar with the land and the people, called the attention of the travellers to the fact that in Assisi there was a monastery of German Franciscan nuns. A colony of poor German women in the middle of Italian lands! That was enough to decide the party to visit the monastery and greet their pious countrywomen in the language of home. But they found the sisterhood in evident distress. As they stood before the lattice, the history of the monastery was briefly related to them by the superior. It owed its origin to the patrician family Nocker of Munich, and according to the terms of its establishment was intended only for Germans, and more particularly for Bavarian maidens. Under Napoleon I. it was suspended, and the nuns were cared for in private dwellings, where, hoping for better times, they still continued, as well as they could, the practice of their vocation. These better times came. After the fall of the Napoleonic dynasty, the purchasers of the monastery consented to relinquish it, and the poor Franciscans could at least reoccupy the building. But it went so hard with them, that they were sometimes obliged to ring the distress-bell, and the number of inmates diminished. At the time of the arrival of our three travellers, they numbered but twelve. An increase of numbers under such circumstances was hardly to be hoped for, and the existence of the monastery seemed again endangered. Municipal abolishment was threatened, with the unavoidable prospect to the nuns of being distributed among the various Italian monasteries. Now to maintain themselves as a German order was everything to these Franciscans; and thus the superior represented it to her travelling country-people, with all simple-heartedness, closing her narration with the entreaty that, on their return to Munich, they would not forget the little German monastery in Assisi, but care for it as they might be able, and cause younger sisters to come to them from Bavaria, in order to save the establishment from utter extinction.
The three travellers took their leave filled with sympathy, and promising to bear in mind the petition of the superior. They commenced their homeward travel from Assisi, passed through Genoa and reached Munich again in November. Miss Linder vigorously recommenced her artistic occupations, filled with animation at her new experiences. But during the winter evenings the Italian trip often formed the topic of conversation in the Schlotthauer family, and generally closed with the question, How shall we manage to increase the number of candidates in the monastery at Assisi? But at that period this was not so easy. The secular spirit had spread itself broadly in German lands: the current of fresh, Catholic life flowed mostly in hidden courses. But with surprise they soon learned of its continued activity. Through one of those invisible channels which Providence avails itself of, in its own good time—in every-day life termed accident—the cry for help of the superior at Assisi penetrated to to a village where pious hearts were prepared for it. One day there came a letter for Professor Schlotthauer from Landshut, addressed to him by an unknown maiden of the humbler class named Therese Frish, stating that she had heard of the monastery at Assisi, and the request of the superior: in Landshut was a goodly number of young girls who had long cherished the desire in their hearts for convent life, and only waited for an opportunity to realize their wishes: several of them, some possessed of means, were ready at any moment to leave for Assisi. This was welcome intelligence, and the friends of the superior in Munich were not backward in performing their part. Thus in the spring they had the happiness of seeing a little band of candidates departing for Assisi. The monastery was rescued, and commenced from that time, through the ever-increasing sympathy in Germany, a new and beneficent career. From year to year, assisted by the people of Munich, there wandered true-hearted though indigent maidens to this quiet asylum of piety, to reach which, as Brentano wrote twelve years later, (1838,) was the dearest wish of these pious children.
Her art trip had thus recompensed the maiden of Basle in a manner little dreamed of or counted on. The impression which this peculiar experience made upon her susceptible nature could not well be a transient one. The little monastery at Assisi—what could be more natural?—from thenceforth lay very closely to her heart, and its memories became most dear to her. The personality of the superior herself, her simple worth and naturalness, gratefully appealed to her; and several years later, on making her second Italian trip, she gladly revisited Assisi. A friendly relation resulted, which, fostered by a regular correspondence, became more intimate every year. She now began to understand the true meaning of a voluntary Christian poverty: the contemplation of which must naturally make a profound impression upon a nature like hers. She had frequent occasion, by active assistance, to prove herself a warm friend of the monastery. Particularly at the time of the great earthquake, (1831,) when this monastery of women was in great want and distress, she stood by the nuns most generously. Ever after, indeed, she remained a constant benefactress of the German daughters of the holy St. Francis; and there, in the birth-place of the saint, was she most assiduously prayed for. In Assisi lay the earliest germ of her quietly-ripening, late-maturing conversion.
In the year 1828, Miss Linder returned to her native city, Basle, in order to prepare for a more lengthened visit to Rome. Like every genuine artist-heart, a powerful influence attracted her to the ancient capital of art, to the eternal city. On her journey thither, she touched at Assisi, having the happiness to escort to the monastery of the Franciscans a new candidate from Munich and to find the nuns there in happiest tranquillity. Cornelius and Schlotthauer reported the same of them, when they passed through, a year and a half later. They received permission from the bishop to hold an interview with the German sisters in the claustral. The innocent joyousness and deep peace of the German nuns was very touching to them. The bishop gave the two artists the best testimony of them in his assurance that he constantly presented these pious Germans to their Italian sisters as an example for imitation.
Accompanied with the nuns' blessing Miss Linder hastened toward the eternal city, where a new world opened itself to her. Bright, blissful days did she pass in Rome, and so well did it please her, that she remained there nearly three years. Here again her associates were the brightest spirits of the German art circle, and their similarity of aim induced a friendly geniality which in many ways enhanced the pleasure of her stay. Scholars and artists of the German colony sought her society with equal delight. Here she met Overbeck—that St. John among the artists—whose friendship to her and to her subsequent life was of such significance. Neher and Eberle received from her commissions. With the painter Ahlborn she read Dante. The venerable Koch was charmed with the society of the genial Swiss, and passed many a winter's evening with her. Also Thorwaldsen, Bunsen, and Platen were among her intimate acquaintance in Italy.
From Rome Miss Linder made a trip to Naples and Sorrento. With a party of Germans, among whom was Platen, she passed there the summer of 1830. The wondrous poetry of the landscape and skies of Sorrento impressed with their fullest power the sensitive soul of the artist. All three arts, poetry, music, and painting, were brought into requisition to give adequate expression to her enchantment and delight. She became herself a poetess under the influence of all these glories, and described to her friends, who remained behind at Rome, with veritable southern warmth of coloring, her "captivating paradise." As in Rome she listened with the veneration of an intelligent musician to the ancient classic music of the Sistine chapel, so at the Bay of Naples she bestowed her attention upon the popular Italian ballads. Theirs was a genial company, and they sang much together; of their songs and melodies she made a collection, and took home with her. Platen, in his subsequent letters, reminded her of those days, and, writing from Venice, requested of her the music of "triads and octaves," which they had sung together in Sorrento.
On her return to Rome, late in the autumn of the same year, she found Cornelius and his family there, and the friendly relations which subsisted in Munich were warmly renewed. The presence of the honored master created, in the Roman art world, an animated and exhilarating activity, and the rest of her stay was thus enlivened in the most agreeable manner. The following year, in company with Cornelius, she started for home. It was hard parting, as finally, in July, 1831, with a wealth of beautiful and deep impressions, she bade farewell to the Hesperian land which had become so dear to her, to return to Basle; and we must not censure the artist that she found it difficult, as her letters indicate, to forget the blue skies of Italy and accustom herself again to the gray hues of the German heaven. The sharpness of the contrast gradually softened, however, and the old home feeling asserted itself. But the life in Rome remained a bright spot in her memory, and even in later years, when the conversation turned upon it, the habitually quiet lady became warm and animated.