[IG] "Thursday, Sept. 7. Cadenabbia.—A glorious morning. Mists belting the mountains, and casting silvery garments of all shapes over and around them, now veiling and now unveiling the rocks, the Lake dancing below. All that this Paradise had lost yesterday, restored and more than restored. At about 7 o'clock, D. and I set forward to walk toward Menaggio. Wm. soon overtook us, and we were joined by an interesting man, an inhabitant of the neighbourhood, who walked by our side, and spoke in commendation of our countrymen in opposition to his own, whom he did not scruple to say had no honesty about them in their dealings with Foreigners; nor, indeed, in bargaining with each other.... He spoke English very well; had passed twenty years at different times in England, in the course of twenty-five years; his journeys there cost him about three guineas each time; had there realized £2000, by selling telescopes and weather glasses, etc.... Our travelling merchant joined us again, he pointed out his farm with much glee." This extract does not seem very relevant, but it is the only passage in Mrs. Wordsworth's Journal recording an incident which might have given rise to The Italian Itinerant.
Dorothy Wordsworth gives the following fuller account of the same person. "Thursday, 6th September. Cadenabbia.—After a night of heavy rain, a bright morning. W., M., and I set off toward Menaggio along the terrace bordering the water, which led us to the bay at the foot of the rocky green hill of the Church of our Lady; and there we came upon the track of the old road, the very same which my Brother had paced! for there was no other, nor the possibility of one. That track, continued from the foot of the mountain, leads behind the town of Cadenabbia, cutting off the bending of the shore by which we had come to this point. From the bare precipice, we pass through shade and sunshine, among spreading vines, slips of green turf, or gardens of melons, gourds, maize, and fig-trees among the rocks; it was but for a little space, yet enough to make our regret even more lively than before that it had not been in our power to coast one reach at least of the lake on foot. We had been overtaken by a fine tall man, who somewhat proudly addressed us in English. After twenty years' traffic in our country he had been settled near his native place on the Banks of Como, having purchased an estate near Cadenabbia with the large sum of two thousand pounds, acquired by selling barometers, looking-glasses, etc. He had been used to return to his wife every third year in the month of October. He made preparations during the winter for fresh travels in the spring, at the same time working with her on the small portion of land which they then possessed. Portsmouth and Plymouth were the grand marts for his wares. He amused us with recitals of adventures among the sailors who used to bully him with, 'Come, you rogue, you get your money easily enough; spend it freely!' and he did not care if he got rid of a guinea or two; for he was sure to have it back again after one of the frolics—and much more. They would often clear away his whole stock of nick-nacks. This industrious trader used to travel on foot at the rate of from thirty to forty miles a day, and his expenses from London to Como were but three guineas, though it cost him one third of that sum to get to Calais. He said he liked England because the people were honest, and told us some stories illustrative of English honesty and Italian over-reaching in bargains. This amusing and, I must say, interesting companion, turned from us by a side-path before we reached Menaggio, saying he would meet us again, as our road would lead us near his cottage on the heights, and he should see us from the fields. He had another dwelling on his estate beside Cadenabbia, where the land produced excellent wine. The produce of his farm on the hills was chiefly hay, which they were then gathering in."
The Swiss Goatherd was a boy met by the travellers at Brunnen. Mrs. Wordsworth thus wrote of him in her Journal:—"20th Aug.—... Mountains rising through vapour into the sky in front, and looking back, the two Mythen towering in great majesty. The Peasants, inhabitants of these paradisaical retreats, very civil, and seemed gratified by our eagerness in quest of the interests they live among. Young men, seated in one of these spacious sheds, making merry after having ended their diversions. The target seen everywhere. In one of the sheds as we ascended, found four goats chewing the cud, a little boy attending, all on the bench. He looked so pensive that we became much interested about him, but D. could not make him understand a single word. William gave him ½ a ——; for which unexpected and unsolicited gift the boy thanked him 'a hundred thousand times.' I afterwards gave him a second piece, and the same expression of thanks was repeated. The longer we looked at the subdued countenance of this little Boy, the more we felt for his solitary condition. Here, with those four mute companions, he had passed his day. The beauty of the scenery he was among was nothing to him; and no doubt he knew of and had heard the sound of the merriment in the vales below. When we repassed the shed, it was empty." (Journal, vol. ii.)
In Dorothy Wordsworth's briefer record of the same incident, the following occurs:—"In one of these [sheds] we found four goats (how bright in the cool shade) beside their keeper, then sitting on the bench, an elegant-featured Boy—dark like an Italian, ragged, silent, pensive, and timid. We gave him a few rapps, still he was silent; then a few more, and he pronounced in German four words intelligible to English ears, 'a hundred thousand thanks'; but his pale cheek wanted the ready smile of the beggar's. It seemed as if none of his pleasures were social, except what he might have with his dumb companions." (Journal, vol. ii.)
With this poem compare Smollett's Ode to Leven Water, and see note to l. 448 of Descriptive Sketches.—Ed.
This picture of the Last Supper has not only been grievously injured by time, but the greatest part of it, if not the whole, is said to have been retouched, or painted over again. These niceties may be left to connoisseurs,—I speak of it as I felt. The copy exhibited in London some years ago, and the engraving by Merghen, are both admirable; but in the original is a power which neither of those works has attained, or even approached.—W. W. 1837.
"Sunday, Sept. 3. Milan.—... Thence we went again to the Cathedral, and to I know not how many different churches: St. Ambrose, very old and interesting, fine frescoes. St. Maria della Grazia, where, in the Refectory, is the exquisite picture of Leonardo da Vinci; but how grievous that it should have been so injured by the brutality of the French soldiers; yet, in its state of decay, what a Treasure! and how little everything that we have seen of Pictures is to be compared to the truth, the chasteness, and the composure that you see, and not only see, but feel, when seated before that sublime work of human art. The countenance of our Saviour sinks into your soul. Happily this is uninjured, as are also the heads of several of the Apostles, but some are quite extinguished." (From Mrs. Wordsworth's Journal.)
"Sunday, 2nd September. Milan.—Went also to the convent of Maria della Grazia to view that most famous picture of the Last Supper by Leonardo da Vinci, painted on the wall at one end of the refectory, a very large hall, hung along the sides with smaller pictures, and, at the other end, that painting of the crucifixion of which we had seen a copy at Lugano. This Refectory was used, in the days of Buonaparte, as a military store-house, and the mark of a musket ball, fired in wantonness by a French Soldier, is to be seen in one part of the painting of Leonardo da Vinci. Fortunately the ball hit where the injury was as small as it could have been; and it is only marvellous that this fine work was not wholly defaced during those times of military misrule and utter disregard of all sacred things.[II] Little conversant in pictures, I cannot take upon me to describe this, which impressed my feelings and imagination more than any picture I ever saw, though some of the figures are so injured by damp that they are only just traceable. The most important are, however, happily the least injured; and that of our Saviour has only suffered from a general fading in the colours, yet, alas! the fading and vanishing must go on year after year till, at length, the whole group must pass away. Through the cloisters of the monastery, which are shattered and defaced, pictures are found in all parts, and there are some curious monuments." (From Dorothy Wordsworth's Journal, vol. ii.)—Ed.
VARIANT:
[527] 1827.
FOOTNOTES:
[II] The following note was added, by Henry Crabb Robinson, to Dorothy Wordsworth's Journal:—"It is perfectly notorious that this picture suffered more from the negligence of the monks than from the scorn of the French. A hole was broken thro' the lower part of the centre of the picture to admit hot dishes from the Kitchen into the Refectory.—H. C. R."—Ed.
Of Figures human and Divine.
The Statues ranged round the Spire and along the roof of the Cathedral of Milan, have been found fault with by Persons whose exclusive taste is unfortunate for themselves. It is true that the same expense and labour judiciously directed to purposes more strictly architectural, might have much heightened the general effect of the building; for, seen from the ground, the Statues appear diminutive. But the coup-d'œil, from the best point of view, which is half way up the Spire, must strike an unprejudiced Person with admiration; and surely the selection and arrangement of the Figures is exquisitely fitted to support the religion of the Country in the imaginations and feelings of the Spectator. It was with great pleasure that I saw, during the two ascents which we made, several Children, of different ages, tripping up and down the slender spire, and pausing to look around them, with feelings much more animated than could have been derived from these, or the finest works of art, if placed within easy reach.—Remember also that you have the Alps on one side, and on the other the Apennines, with the Plain of Lombardy between!—W. W. 1822.
The starry zone of sovereign height.
Above the highest circle of figures is a zone of metallic stars.—W. W. 1837.
"Thursday, Sept. 7. Cadenabbia.—... Nothing could be more lovely than the milder scenes this morning: the little lake Piano: the sunny glades, enlivened by groups of Peasants, gathering in their various harvests, or seated under the shade of some tree taking refreshment, their simple breakfast, a piece of bread and a little fruit; then, the shadows of these trees upon green emerald lawns, between the little lake and that of Lugano, lay more softly than ever shadows rested before, cradled under those stupendous perpendicular barriers. Took boat at Porlezza. Eclipse of the Sun: could bear to look at the orb shorn of his beams, with the naked eye: the effect produced upon the scenery very fine, such a sombre greenness, like the effect of bright moonlight: only under a bright moon that very green colour generally diffused (as if you had on a pair of green spectacles) cannot be. On the right bank of the lake the woods were of a rich golden green, gloomy on the left shore, and looking back among the towering rocks, and black coves, the region was very solemn. The water, unillumined by sunshine, was of what I should call a sad green: the air cooler, indeed a coolish air gently agitated the lake, while the eclipse lasted. We congratulated ourselves in being undesignedly, and indeed unexpectedly, in so grand a situation to witness this phenomenon." (Mrs. Wordsworth's Journal.)
As reference is made in the poem to "Milan's loftiest spire," and its "Figures human and divine," the following extracts from the two Journals may be given in illustration:—"Sept. 2. Milan."—"The cathedral we have thoroughly seen this morning. It is a grand and imposing Edifice—we have been delighted both with the building, and with the material especially, all marble of the finest kind. 3000 statues of beautiful polished white marble are stationed upon this elegant Pile. We were upon the very top; the pinnacle so light, yet notwithstanding the height, and its slender appearance, feeling yourself perfectly secure.... The view of the Cathedral itself from this station is extraordinary; the pure graceful figures, streaming far before you, have a most interesting and curious effect; and, from the lower roofs also, you have many fine combinations." (Mrs. Wordsworth's Journal.)
"Saturday, 1st September. Milan.—Our object this morning was to ascend to the roof, where I remained alone, not venturing to follow the rest of the party to the top of the giddy, central spire, which is ascended by a narrow staircase twisted round the outside. Even W. was obliged to trust to a hand governed by a steadier head than his own. I wandered about, with space spread around me (on the roof on which I trod), for streets and even squares of no very diminutive Town. The floor on which I trod was all of polished marble, intensely hot, and as dazzling as snow; and instead of moving figures I was surrounded by groups and stationary processions of silent statues—saints, sages, and angels. It is impossible for me to describe the beautiful spectacle, or to give a notion of the delight I felt; therefore I will copy a sketch in verse composed from my Brother's recollections of the view from the central Spire." (From Dorothy Wordsworth's Journal, vol. ii.)
Henry Crabb Robinson wrote thus of these memorial stanzas:—"Of the stanzas, I love most—loving all—'The Eclipse of the Sun.'" (Diary, etc., vol. ii. p. 224.)—Ed.
VARIANTS:
[528] 1827.
[529] 1827.
[530] 1837.
[531] 1827.
[532] 1827.
[533] 1832.
[534] 1837.
[535] 1837.
FOOTNOTES:
[IJ] The Julian Alps, also known as the Carnic Alps, bound the plains of Venetia, and curve round from Mount Terglu to the Dalmatian range, and the neighbourhood of Trieste.—Ed.
[IK] Six miles from Menaggio, on Lake Lugano.—Ed.
[IL] Compare Musings near Aquapendente (April 1837), l. 62. This stanza was first included in the 1832 edition of the poems.—Ed.
I
II
III
IV
V
VI
The following passage from Mrs. Wordsworth's Journal describes
The Votaress by Lugano's side.
"Lugano, Sept. 8, Friday.—... The evening was uncommonly fine; the road shady; bells ringing from the neighbouring chapels, that crested many a steep rock; birds too here, fitfully warbling from the groves; waters gushing through some rocky cleft among the thickets; and I, at my own pace and will, enjoyed a quiet and most refreshing walk. At every step up and down the well-made road, meeting something new, a different shaped mountain, or the same trees under different combinations, a tempting path winding to a village in a dell below, or to a nest of cottages gathered round a spire above, a tinkling stream, or a green glade without one; and all the way through a region of stately trees.... Here an elegant-looking peasant Girl was putting on her gay ornaments before she entered the Town, where also was a festival. Her dress was so pretty I could not help noticing it, a scarlet chintz frock with a deep figured border, a wide muslin apron, nearly wrapping her round, also with a deep richly wrought border, and slung by white straps over the shoulders, a gold chain round the neck, earrings, etc.; her hair, something like Dora's, nicely braided. Her companions were assisting to put a very beautiful silk handkerchief upon her neck. One of them, from the interest she seemed to take in the arrangements, might be the mother of the Maiden; the other, a younger Sister perhaps, who lent her aid more slackly, and would, I daresay, rather have been in the wild fields gathering flowers to deck a Mayday garland, or to wreath a coronal for Our Lady's head, on this her day of Festival."
The intrepid Nymph, on Uri's steep, descried!
is thus referred to by Mrs. Wordsworth:—
"Sunday, 20th Aug. Seewen.—... William and I returned later than the rest, having gone further. On reaching a knoll, before we descended into Brunnen, a pretty short-faced, bright-eyed Girl of eighteen or nineteen met us. We enquired the way. She answered; and we bid her good night, and turned from her. Presently she whistled very softly, then sent forth an uncouth sound, more as from the voice of a man than a maiden. It was not a deep sound, but one that might be heard in the Vale and across the Lake, and made the hills about us ring. This was followed by a series of Swiss airs, which she warbled without pause, one after the other, in an impassioned manner, hurrying through as if she wished to reach the utmost limits of her powers, before we were out of hearing; yet I cannot but think these modulated notes meant more than we could understand. They were probably addressed to some one at a distance. There she stood upon the naked rock; and, as a waterfall, the sound grew as we listened, so that I even fancied she was following us, in sight of the villages below and around, and her voice must have been known to those nearer dwellings, in one of which she probably found her home."
The "Sweet Highland Girl!" is thus described in Dorothy Wordsworth's Recollections of a Tour made in Scotland in 1803:—
"Sunday, Aug. 28, 1803.—After long waiting, the girls, who had been on the look-out, informed us that the boat was coming. I went to the waterside, and saw a cluster of people on the opposite shore; but being yet at a distance, they looked more like soldiers surrounding a carriage than a group of men and women; red and green were the distinguishable colours. We hastened to get ourselves ready as soon as we saw the party approach, but had longer to wait than we expected, the lake being wider than it appears to be. As they drew near we could distinguish men in tartan plaids, women in scarlet cloaks, and green umbrellas by the half-dozen. The landing was as pretty a sight as ever I saw. The bay, which had been so quiet two days before, was all in motion with small waves, while the swollen waterfall roared in our ears. The boat came steadily up, being pressed almost to the water's edge by the weight of its cargo; perhaps twenty people landed, one after another. It did not rain much, but the women held up their umbrellas; they were dressed in all the colours of the rainbow, and, with their scarlet cardinals, the tartan plaids of the men, and Scotch bonnets, made a gay appearance. There was a joyous bustle surrounding the boat, which even imparted something of the same character to the waterfall in its tumult, and the restless grey waves; the young men laughed and shouted, the lasses laughed, and the elder folks seemed to be in a bustle to be away. I remember well with what haste the mistress of the house where we were ran up to seek after her child, and seeing us, how anxiously and kindly she inquired how we had fared, if we had had a good fire, had been well waited upon, etc. etc. All this in three minutes—for the boatman had another party to bring from the other side, and hurried us off.
"The hospitality we had met with at the two cottages and Mr. Macfarlane's gave us very favourable impressions on this our first entrance into the Highlands, and at this day the innocent merriment of the girls, with their kindness to us, and the beautiful figure and face of the elder, come to my mind whenever I think of the ferry-house and waterfall of Loch Lomond, and I never think of the two girls but the whole image of that romantic spot is before me, a living image, as it will be to my dying day."
See The Poetical Works, vol. ii. pp. 389, 390, and the Fenwick note.—Ed.
VARIANTS:
[536] 1832.
[537] 1837.
[538] 1840.
[539] 1837.
In editions of 1822 to 1832, the first six lines of stanza v. were joined to the last seven of stanza vi., making up a single stanza (No. v.), and concluding the poem.
FOOTNOTES:
[IM] See the Author's Miscellaneous Poems, vol. ii.—W. W. 1822.
[IN] I retain Wordworth's spelling of the name of this place.—Ed.
THE COLUMN INTENDED BY BUONAPARTE
FOR A TRIUMPHAL EDIFICE IN MILAN,
NOW LYING BY THE WAY-SIDE IN THE
SIMPLON PASS[540]
Mrs. Wordsworth's Journal contains the following reference to this "column":—"Sat., 9th Sept. (From Bavana to Domo d'Ossola.)—... The fine column—Buonaparte's—seen to-day, arrested here by the news of his overthrow, on its way to form a part of the triumphal arch at Milan!"
"Sunday, 9th September. Domo d'Ossola.—At a considerable height from the river's bed an immense column of granite lies by the wayside, as if its course had been stopped there by tidings of Napoleon's overthrow. It was intended by him for his unfinished triumphal arch at Milan; and I wish it may remain prostrate on the mountain for ages to come. His bitterest foe could scarcely contrive a more impressive record of disappointed vanity and ambition. The sledge upon which it has been dragged from the quarry is rotted beneath it, while the pillar remains as fresh and sparkling as if hewn but yesterday. W., who came after us, said he had named it the 'weary stone,' in memory of that immense stone in the wilds of Peru, so called by the Indians because after 20,000 of them had dragged it over heights and hollows, it tumbled down a precipice, and rested immovable at the bottom, where it must forever remain. Ere long we come to the first passage through the rocks, near the River's bed, and 'Road and River'[IO] for some time fill the bottom of the valley. We miss the bright torrents that stream down the hills bordering the Tesino; but here is no want of variety. We are in closer neighbourhood with the crags; hence their shapes are continually changing, and their appearance is the more commanding; and, wherever an old building is seen, it is overspread with the hues of the natural crags, and is in form of accordant irregularity. The very road itself, however boldly it may bestride the hills or pierce the rocks, is yet the slave of nature, its windings often being governed as imperiously as those of the Vedra within the chasm of the glen." (Dorothy Wordsworth's Journal.)
Another extract from Mrs. Wordsworth's Journal will farther illustrate this sonnet:—
Milan, Sept. 20.—... "Been to see the Bibliotheca Ambrosia.... Petrarch's Virgil delighted us more than all. It had been clawed by Buonaparte; and he had had the audacity to new-bind this book, and place four odious N's upon its back. When he revisited this library, as the animated old librarian related to us, he had this volume under his arm, saying, 'This is mine,' and walked off with it himself. It is well it did not remain in possession of so unworthy a master."—Ed.
VARIANT: