With regard to the present Pontiff Pius VII, from the excellence of his private character and virtues, and from his unassuming manners and goodness of heart, there is but one opinion respecting him. Even those who do not like the ecclesiastical Government, and behold in it the degradation of Italy, render justice to the good qualities of Pius VII. He always displayed the greatest moderation and humanity in prosperity, and in adversity he was firm and dignified. In his morals and habits he is quite a primitive Christian, and if he does not possess that great political talent which has distinguished some of his predecessors, he has been particularly fortunate and discriminating in the choice of his minister, in whom are united ability, firmness, suavity of manner and unimpeachable character. I think I have thus given a faithful delineation of Cardinal Consalvi.
ROME, March 12th.
I have made a very valuable acquaintance in M. K[ölle][113] the envoy of the King of Würtemberg, to the Holy See. He is an enthusiastic admirer of his countryman the poet Schiller, and thro' his means of procuring German books, I am enabled to prosecute my studies in that noble language. An Italian lady there having heard much of Schiller and Bürger, and not being acquainted with the German language, requested me to make an Italian translation of some of the pieces of those poets; chusing the Leonora of Bürger as one, and leaving to myself the choice of one from Schiller, I represented the extreme difficulty of the task, but as she had read a sonnet of mine on Lord Guildford's project of establishing an University in the Italian language, she would not hear of any excuse. To work then I set, and completed the translation of Leonora, together with one of Schiller's Feast of Eleusis. These and my sonnet were the cause of my being recommended for admission as a member of the Academy degli Arcadi in Rome and I received the pastoral name of Galeso Itaoense.
The Carnaval is now over and the ladies are all at their Livres d'Heures, posting masses and prayers to the credit side, to counterbalance the sins and frailties committed during the carnaval in the account which they keep in the Ledger of Heaven. Dancing and masquerading are now over and Requiems and the Miserere the order of the day at the conversazioni.
At Mr K[ölle]'s house I have become acquainted with Thorwaldsen, the famous Danish sculptor, who is by many considered as the successful rival of Canova; but their respective styles are so different, that a comparison can scarce be made between them. Canova excels in the soft and graceful, in the figures of youthful females and young men; Thorwaldsen in the grave, stern and terrible. In a word, did I wish to have made a Hebe, a Venus, an Antinoüs, an Apollo, I should charge Canova with their execution. Did I wish for an Ajax, an Hercules, a Neptune, a Jupiter, I should give the preference to Thorwaldsen.
In their private characters they much resemble each other, being both honorable, generous, unassuming, and enthusiastic lovers of their profession and of the fine arts hi general.
I have been to see a remarkably fine picture, by a modern French artist, of the name of Granet. It may be considered as the chef d'oeuvre of the perspective or dioramic art. This picture represents the ulterior of the convent of the Capuchins, near the Barberini Palace. The picture is by no means a very large one; but the optical deception is astonishing. You fancy you are standing at the entrance of a long hall and ready to enter it; on looking at it, thro' a piece of paper rolled hi form of a speaking trumpet—which by hiding from the sight the frame of the picture, prevents the illusion from being dissipated—you suppose you could walk into the hall; and each figure of a monk therein appears a real human creature, seen from a long distance, so skilfully has the artist disposed his light and shade. This picture has excited the admiration of connoisseurs, as well as others, and it is universally proclaimed a masterpiece. M. Granet's house is filled every day with persons coming to see this picture, and many repeat their visits several tunes in the week. He has received several orders for copies of this picture, and I fancy he begins to be tired of eternally copying the same thing; for he told me that he wished that the gentlemen who employed him would vary their subjects, and either chuse some other themselves, or let him chuse for them. But no! such is the effect of vogue and fashion, and such the despotic influence they exercise even over the polite arts, that everybody must have a copy of Granet's picture of the interior of the Convent of Capuchins coûte que coûte; so that poor Granet seems bound to this Convent for life; except in the intervals of his labours, he should hit off another subject, with equal felicity, and this alone may perhaps serve to diminish the universal desire of possessing a copy of the Convent. The original picture is destined for the King of France.[114]
I remarked, in the collection of the works of this artist, a small picture representing Galileo in prison, and a monk descending the steps of the dungeon bringing him his scanty meal. A lamp hangs suspended from the roof, in the centre of the dungeon, and the artist has made a very happy hit in throwing the whole glare of the lamp on the countenance of Galileo, who is seated reading a book, while the gaoler monk is left completely in the shade. On seeing this I exclaimed: Veramente, Signor Granet, e buonissimo quel vostro concetto!
Easter Tuesday.
I have at length seen all the fine sights that Rome affords during the Holy Week, and have witnessed most of the religious ceremonies, viz., the illuminated cross hi St Peter's on Good Friday; the high mass celebrated by the Pope in person on Easter Sunday; the Papal benediction from a window of the church above the façade on the same day; the illumination of the façade of St Peter's on Easter Monday, and the Girandola or grand firework at the Castle of St Angelo on the same evening. The ceremony of the Pope washing the feet of twelve poor men I did not see, for I could not get into the Sistine Chapel, where the ceremony was performed: and at the mass performed by the Pope in the Sistine Chapel I did contrive to enter, but was so oppressed by the crowd and heat, that I almost fainted away, and was very glad to get out of the Chapel again, before the ceremony commenced. Why in the name of commonsense do they perform these ceremonies in the Sistine Chapel which is small, instead of doing them in the church of St Peter's, which would contain so many people and produce a much grander effect?