Naples - Stages of Goethe's Grand Tour - Unreal Goethe

The barrier, Kniep’s farewell coffee

spun — Fri, 18 Sep 2026 10:41:28 +0000

Goethe drives for the last time through the endless life of the city. At the last police barrier, while the customs men deal with the coachman, Kniep steps out of a coffee house with the largest Chinese cup, full of black coffee, on a tray. They part as seldom people part who were brought together by chance for a short time.

Naples, 3 June 1787

And so then, half-stunned, I drove through the endless life of this incomparable town, probably never to see it again; yet with a feeling of satisfaction that I had left behind nothing to repent or grieve over. I thought of the good Kniep, and vowed even in the distance to do my best for him.

At the outermost police-barriers of the suburb I was disturbed for a moment by a check-keeper, who, looking with frendliness into my face at once sprang off again. The Custom-house officers had not yet finished business with my vetturino when, from the door of the coffee-house, with the biggest chinese cup of black coffee on a waiter, out stepped Kniep. He came slowly up to the carriage door with a hearty earnestness which well became him. I was astonished and touched; such a mark of acknowledgment had not its match. “You have,” he said, “shown me so much goodness and kindness to bless me all the days of my life that I wanted to give you some token of the thanks I owe you.”

Words always failing me in such emergencies, I could only answer laconically that by his labours he had made me his debtor, and that by turning to good account our common treasures he would only bind me ever the closer to him.

We parted in a way persons seldom part whom accident has drawn together for a short time. It would, perhaps, be much the best rule in life for people when they meet to say out bluntly what they want of each other. That done, both sides are satisfied, and anything over and above then looks like the pure spontaneous gift of the heart.

Original German text · Neapel, Sonntag, den 3. Juni 1787. Dreieinigkeitsfest.

The Royal Palace, the window on Vesuvius

spun — Fri, 18 Sep 2026 10:41:26 +0000

On the evening of 2 June, with the Duchess of Giovane, a cultivated young German lady. In the half-light she opens a shutter: Vesuvius opposite, the glowing lava, the cloud torn by lightning, the full moon rising behind the mountain and the woman against the light. Such a farewell to Naples could not have been otherwise.

Naples, 2 June 1787

This bright day, too, then, I have spent—with excellent people no doubt, and with pleasure and profit to myself—but yet wholly against my intentions, and with a heavy heart. Full of longing, I looked towards the smoke pursuing its slow way downwards to the sea, indicating the hourly course of the lava. Nor was the evening to be my own. I had promised a visit to the Duchess of Giovane who lived in the castle, where I had to wander up many steps, and along many passages, the topmost of which was encumbered by chests, presses and other lumber belonging to a court wardrobe. In a large and lofty room without any particular prospect, I found a young lady of good figure, whose conversation was of a very tender and moral tone. As a native German, it was not unknown to her how our literature was moulding itself into a freer humanity of comprehensive view. The endeavours of Herder, and those who aspired after him, were especially prized by her, while Garven’s pure understanding found the most inward response in her. She sought also to keep pace with the German authoresses, and it was easy to perceive, that she was ambitious to acquire fame as an accomplished writer. Her conversation turned in this direction, and betrayed her intention to exercise her influence on the daughters of the upper classes. A conversation of this kind knows no limits. Twilight overtook us, without any candles being brought. We were walking up and down the room, when, stepping aside, she opened the shutters of a window, and displayed to view a sight such as one sees but once in his life. Were it done intentionally to surprise me, she completely attained her purpose. We stood at a window of the upper story right in front of Vesuvius; the lava streaming downwards, and, now that the sun was long set, seen distinctly glowing and beginning to gild the enveloping smoke; the mountain in a furious rage capped by an immense steady cloud of vapour, whose different masses were at each explosion sundered as if by lightning, and illumined into various shapes; thence down towards the sea, a stripe of blazing fire and glowing vapour; the rest, all sea and earth, rock and vegetation, reposing witchingly, clearly and peacefully, in the evening twilight. To see all this with one glance, and, to complete the wonderful picture, to behold the full moon rising up from behind the ridges of the mountain—all this could not but affect one with grateful astonishment.

From our standpoint the whole spectacle was to be embraced in one view, and if you were unable to mark distinctly each particular object you never yet lost the impression of a great whole. If our conversation was interrupted by this spectacle it became all the more cordial. We had a text before us thousands of years would not suffice to write a commentary on. The more the night deepened, the clearer the land and sea-scapes rose into view; the moon shone forth like a second sun; the pillars of smoke with its stripes and masses shaped themselves ever more distinctly; shading your eye with your hand, you fancied you could distinguish the ejected clumps of rock glowing in the darkness of the skittle-shaped mountain. My hostess—so will I name her, for a more tasteful supper could not well be prepared than that to which she entertained me—had the candles placed on the opposite side of the room, and the fair lady, illumined by the moon, standing as the fore-figure to this incredible picture, grew ever fairer in my eyes, and her loveability was enhanced to me by the fact that in this southern paradise the accents of my mother tongue greeted me gratefully from her lips. The flight of time was for me arrested in her presence till she had to make me understand how she must, though reluctantly, let me go, as it was near the hour when her galleries, according to cloister arrangement, were closed. And so I took my departure from things far and near, blessing my lucky star, which, in return for my reluctant complaisance during the day, had given me so beautiful a reward in the evening. Arrived in the open air, I said to myself that, in the vicinity of this greater lava, I should only have seen the repetition of that lesser one, and that such a farewell view, such a departure from Naples could not have happened better than it had done.

Original German text · Neapel, Sonnabend, den 2. Juni 1787.

The Molo, the night of the lava

spun — Fri, 18 Sep 2026 10:41:23 +0000

At night on the Molo, in a single glance: the moon, the clouds, the reflection on the sea, the lighthouse lamps, the fire of Vesuvius. On 1 June news of a strong lava flow towards the sea; after the farewell visits, a dash to the Molo, where he stays until his eyes close.

Naples, 30 May 1787

Walking by night through the town, I reached the Molo. There in one view I saw the moon, her radiance on the edges of the clouds, the soft tremulous resplendence on the sea, brighter and livelier on the edge of the succeeding wave. And now appeared the stars of heaven, the lamp of the lighthouse, the fire of Vesuvius, its reflection in the water, and many detached lights disseminated over the ships. Such a manifold problem I should well like to see solved by Van der Neer.

Original German text · Neapel, den 30. Mai 1787.

The Molo, departure and return

spun — Fri, 18 Sep 2026 10:41:21 +0000

The corvette built in America, the cabin, the bills and farewells; the Marchese Berio eager to meet the author of Werther. On 29 March they sail at sunset with a troupe of singers and dancers. In mid-May the return: the gulf in morning light, a Greek priest exclaiming that this too is a city, porters running with the trunks towards Moriconi.

Naples, 26 March 1787

To-morrow this letter will leave this for you. On Thursday, the 29th, I go to Palermo in the corvette, which formerly, in my ignorance of sea matters, I promoted to the rank of a frigate. The doubt whether I should go or remain made me unsettled even in the use of my stay here; now I have made up my mind, things go on better. For my mental state this journey is salutary–indeed necessary. I see Sicily pointing to Africa, and to Asia, and to the wonderful, whither so many rays of the world’s history are directed: even to stand still is no trifle!

I have treated Naples quite in its own style. I have been anything but industrious. And yet I have seen a great deal, and formed a pretty general idea of the land, its inhabitants, and condition. On my return there is much that I shall have to go over again; indeed, only “go over,” for by the 29th of June I must be in Rome again. As I have missed the Holy Week, I must not fail to be present at the festivities of St. Peter’s Day. My Sicilian expedition must not altogether draw me off from my original plans.

The day before yesterday we had a violent storm, with thunder, lightning, and rain. Now it is again clear; a glorious Tramontane is blowing; if it lasts, we shall have a rapid passage.

Yesterday I went with my fellow-traveller to see the vessel, and to take our cabin. A sea voyage is utterly out of the pale of my ideas; this short trip, which will probably be a mere coasting one, will help my imagination, and enlarge my world. The captain is a young lively fellow; the ship trim and clean, built in America, and a good sailer.

Here every spot begins to look green; Sicily, they tell me, I shall find still more so. By the time you get this letter I shall be on my return, leaving Trinacria behind me. Such is man; he is always either anticipating or recalling; I have not yet been there; and yet I now am, in thought, back again with you! However, for the confusion of this letter I am not to blame. Every moment I am interrupted, and yet I would, if possible, fill this sheet to the very corner.

Just now I have had a visit from a Marchese Berio, a young man who appears to be well informed. He was anxious to make the acquaintance of the author of “Werther.” Generally, indeed, the people here evince a great desire for, and delight in, learning and accomplishments. Only they are too happy to go the right way to acquire them. Had I more time, I would willingly devote it to observing the Neapolitans. These four weeks–what are they, compared with the endless variety of life?

Now, fare you well. On these travels I have learnt one thing at least–how to travel well; whether I am learning to live, I know not. The men who pretend to understand that art, are, in nature and manner, too widely different from me, for setting up any claim to such a talent.

Farewell, and love me as sincerely as I from my heart remember you.

Original German text · Neapel, den 26. März 1787.

Kniep’s rooftop terrace

spun — Fri, 18 Sep 2026 10:41:18 +0000

Tischbein proposes the young landscape painter Kniep as a permanent companion. On Lady Day Kniep takes Goethe up to a flat roof with one of the finest views of Naples: through the trapdoor appears the head of his sweetheart, like the angel climbing a ladder in old Annunciations. Then, by the sea, an illumination about the primal plant.

Naples, 19 March 1787

Within these last few days I have formed a new connexion. Tischbein for three or four weeks has faithfully lent me all the assistance in his power, and diligently explained to me the works both of nature and art. Yesterday, however, after being at the Museum of Portici, we had some conversation together, and we came to the conclusion that, considering his own artistic objects, he could not perform, with credit to himself, the works which, in the hope of some future appointment in Naples, he has undertaken for the Court and for several persons in the city, nor do justice to my views, wishes, and fancies. With sincere good wishes for my success, he has therefore recommended to me for my constant companion a young man whom, since I arrived here, I have often seen, not without feeling some inclination and liking for him. His name is Kniep, who, after a long stay at Rome, has come to Naples as the true field and element of the landscape-painter. Even in Rome I had heard him highly spoken of as a clever draughtsman–only his industry was not much commended. I have tolerably studied his character, and think the ground of this censure arises rather from a want of a decision, which certainly may be overcome, if we are long together. A favourable beginning confirms me in this hope; and if he continues to go on thus, we shall continue good companions for some time.

Original German text · Neapel, Montag, den 19. März 1787.

Palazzo Sessa, Hamilton and Emma

spun — Fri, 18 Sep 2026 10:41:08 +0000

Hamilton has made a fine life for himself: rooms in the English taste and a corner view perhaps unique, and after ranging through every realm of creation he has arrived at a beautiful woman. In May Goethe dines with them, Emma sings, and Hamilton takes him into his secret vault of busts, vases and bronzes, where two candelabra look too much like those of Portici.

Naples, 22 March 1787

Were I not impelled by the German spirit, and desire to learn and to do rather than to enjoy, I should tarry a little longer in this school of a light-hearted and happy life, and try to profit by it still more. Here it is enough for contentment, if a man has ever so little an income. The situation of the city, the mildness of the climate, can never be sufficiently extolled; but it is almost exclusively to these that the stranger is referred.

No doubt, one who has abundance of time, tact, and means, might remain here for a long time, with profit to himself. Thus Sir William Hamilton has contrived highly to enjoy a long residence in this city, and now, in the evening of his life, is reaping the fruits of it. The rooms which he has had furnished in the English style, are most delightful, and the view from the corner room, perhaps, unique. Below you is the sea, with a view of Capri, Posilippo on the right, with the promenade of Villa Real between you and the grotto; on the left an ancient building belonging to the Jesuits, and beyond it the coast stretching from Sorrento to Cape Minerva. Another prospect equal to this is scarcely to be found in Europe,–at least, not in the centre of a great and populous city.

Hamilton is a person of universal taste, and after having wandered through the whole realm of creation, has found rest at last in a most beautiful wife, a masterpiece of the great artist–Nature.

And now after all this, and a hundred-fold more of enjoyment, the sirens from over the sea are beckoning me; and if the wind is favorable, I shall start at the same time with this letter,–it for the north, I for the south. The human mind will not be confined to any limits–I especially require breadth and extent in an eminent degree; however, I must content myself on this occasion with, a rapid survey, and must not think of a long fixed look. If by hearing and thinking, I can only attain to as much of any object as a finger’s tip, I shall be able to make out the whole hand.

Singularly enough, within these few days, a friend has spoken to me of Wilhelm Meister, and urged me to continue it. In this climate, I don’t think it possible; however, something of the air of this heaven may, perhaps, be imparted to the closing books. May my existence only unfold itself sufficiently to lengthen the stem, and to produce richer and finer flowers; certainly it were better for me never to have come here at all, than to go away unregenerated.

Original German text · Neapel, den 22. März 1787.

Dinner with the princess

spun — Fri, 18 Sep 2026 10:40:52 +0000

Believing her as poor as the Filangieris, Goethe finds himself in the little princess’s sumptuous palace, with liveried servants lining the stairs: he feels like the sultan in Wieland’s fairy tale. At table she torments the friars over their Lenten fare and invites him to Sorrento, to be cured of philosophy.

Naples, 12 March 1787

Evening.

In order that I might not make any mistake yesterday, as to the house of my odd little princess, and might be there in time, I called a hackney carriage. It stopped before the grand entrance of a spacious palace. As I had no idea of coming to so splendid a dwelling, I repeated to him most distinctly the name; he assured me it was quite right. I soon found myself in a spacious court, still and lonesome, empty and clean, enclosed by the principal edifice and side buildings. The architecture was the well-known light Neapolitan style, as was also the colouring. Right before me was a grand porch, and a broad but not very high flight of steps. On both sides of it stood a line of servants, in splendid liveries, who, as I passed them, bowed very low. I thought myself the Sultan in Wieland’s fairy tale, and after his example, took courage. Next I was received by the upper domestics, till at last the most courtly of them opened a door, and introduced me into a spacious apartment, which was as splendid, but also as empty of people as all before. In passing backwards and forwards I observed, in a side-room, a table laid out for about forty persons, with a splendour corresponding with all around. A secular priest now entered, and without asking who I was, or whence I came, approached me as if I were already known to him, and conversed on the most common-place topics.

A pair of folding doors were now thrown open and immediately closed again, as a gentleman rather advanced in years entered. The priest immediately proceeded towards him, as I also did; we greeted him with a few words of courtesy, which he returned in a barking stuttering tone, so that I could scarcely make out a syllable of his Hottentot dialect. When he had taken his place by the stove, the priest moved away, and I accompanied him. A portly Benedictine entered, accompanied by a younger member of his order. He went to salute the host, and after being also barked at, retired to a window. The regular clergy, especially those whose dress is becoming, have great advantage in society; their costume is a mark of humility and renunciation of self, while, at the same time it lends to its wearers a decidedly dignified appearance. In their behaviour they may easily, without degrading themselves, appear submissive and complying; and then again, when they stand upon their own dignity, their self-respect sits well upon them, although in others it would not be so readily allowed to pass. This was the case with this person. When I asked him about Monte Cassino, he immediately gave me an invitation thither, and promised me the best of welcomes. In the meanwhile the room had become full of people; officers, people of the court, more regulars, and even some Capuchins, had arrived. Once more a set of folding-doors opened and shut; an aged lady, somewhat older than my host, had entered; and now the presence of what I took to be the lady of the house, made me feel perfectly confident that I was in a strange mansion, where I was wholly unknown to its owners. Dinner was now served, and I was keeping close to the side of my friends the monks, in order to slip with them into the paradise of the dining-room, when all at once I saw Filangieri, with his wife, enter and make his excuses for being so late. Shortly after this my little princess came into the room, and with nods, and winks, and bows to all as she passed, came straight to me.—”It is very good of you to keep your word,” she exclaimed; “mind you sit by me,—you shall have the best bits,—wait a minute though; I must find out which is my proper place, then mind and take your place by me.” Thus commanded, I followed the various windings she made; and at last we reached our seats, having the Benedictine right opposite and Filangieri on my other side. “The dishes are all good,” she observed,—”all lenten fare, but choice: I’ll point out to you the best. But now I must rally the priests,—the churls! I can’t bear them; every day they are cutting a fresh slice off our estate. What we have, we should like to spend on ourselves and our friends.” The soup was now handed round,—the Benedictine was sipping his very deliberately. “Pray don’t put yourself out of your way,—the spoon is too small, I fear; I will bid them bring you a larger one. Your reverences are used to a good mouthful.” The good father replied,—”In your house, lady, every thing is so excellent, and so well arranged, that much more distinguished guests than your humble servant would find everything to their heart’s content.”

Of the pasties the Benedictine took only one; she called out to him,—”Pray take half a dozen; pastry, your reverence surely knows, is easy of digestion.” With good sense he took another pasty, thanking the princess for her attention, just as if he had not seen through her malicious raillery. And so, also, some solid paste-work furnished her with occasion for venting her spite; for, as the monk helped himself to a piece, a second rolled off the dish towards his plate,—”A third! your reverence; you seem anxious to lay a foundation”—”When such excellent materials are furnished to his hand, the architect’s labours are easy,” rejoined his reverence. Thus she went on continually, only pausing awhile to keep her promise of pointing out to me the best dishes.

All this while I was conversing with my neighbour on the gravest topics. Absolutely, I never heard Filangieri utter an unmeaning sentence. In this respect, and indeed in many others, he resembles our worthy friend, George Schlosser, with this difference, that the former, as a Neapolitan, and a man of the world, had a softer nature and an easier manner.

During the whole of this time my roguish neighbour allowed the clerical gentry not a moment’s truce. Above all, the fish at this lenten meal, dished up in imitation of flesh of all kinds, furnished her with inexhaustible opportunities for all manner of irreverent and ill-natured observations; especially in justification and defence of a taste for flesh, she observed that people would have the form to give a relish, even when the essence was prohibited.

Many more such jokes were noticed by me at the time, but I am not in the humour to repeat them. Jokes of this kind, fresh spoken, and falling from beautiful lips, may be tolerable, not to say amusing, but set down in black and white, they lose all charm, for me at least. Then again, the boldly hazarded stroke of wit has this peculiarity, that at the moment it pleases us while it astonishes us by its boldness, but when told afterwards, it sounds offensive, and disgusts us.

The dessert was brought in, and I was afraid that the cross-fire would still be kept up, when suddenly my fair neighbour turned quite composedly to me and said,—”The priests may gulp their Syracusan wine in peace, for I cannot succeed in worrying a single one to death,—no, not even in spoiling their appetites. Now, let me have some rational talk with you; for what a heavy sort of thing must a conversation with Filangieri be! The good creature; he gives himself a great deal of trouble for nothing. I often say to him, if you make new laws, we must give ourselves fresh pains to find out how we can forthwith transgress them, just as we have already set at naught the old. Only look now, how beautiful Naples is! For these many years the people have lived free from care and contented, and if now and then some poor wretch is hanged, all the rest still pursue their own merry course.” She then proposed that I should pay a visit to Sorrento, where she had a large estate; her steward would feast me with the best of fish, and the delicious mungana, (flesh of a sucking calf). The mountain air, and the unequalled prospect, would be sure to cure me of all philosophy,—then she would come herself, and not a trace should remain of all my wrinkles, which, by the bye, I had allowed to grow before their time, and together we would have a right merry time of it.

Original German text · Neapel, Montag, den 12. März.

Santa Lucia and the lazzaroni

spun — Fri, 18 Sep 2026 10:40:49 +0000

Against Volkmann’s guidebook and its «forty thousand idlers», Goethe goes hunting for lazzaroni and finds only people at work: porters, fishermen, children gathering wood shavings, street sweepers with their donkeys. The next day, colours in the sun, the stalls of Santa Lucia, macaroni and fritter-makers at every corner.

Naples, 28 May 1787

I am obliged from time to time to dissent from the opinion of the good and useful Volkmann. He speaks, for example, of thirty to forty thousand idlers in Naples, and who does not repeat the saying after him? So soon as I had acquired some knowledge of the state of the South, I conjectured that this was very likely a northern view of things, a view which takes everyone for an idler who is not anxiously toiling and moiling the whole day long. I, therefore, paid particular attention to the people both when stirring about, and when at rest, and though I found very many ill-clad, I observed none that were not employed.

Consequently, I made inquiries of some friends as to those innumerable idlers whom I also wished to know. They, however, could give me just as little information, and so I resolved—seeing that the search would coincide perfectly with my examination of the town—to go on an exploring tour on my own account.

In the boundless confusion, I began to single out the different figures, and to judge and classify them according to their appearance, dress, behaviour and occupations. I found such a business easier here than elsewhere, people in this city being more left to themselves, and each one showing himself in outward respects in a style corresponding to his status.

I commenced my investigations in the early morning, and all the persons I found here and there, standing or sitting, were people whose trade was apparent at a first glance. Porters, who have the right of standing in particular squares, and waiting till they are called on for service; calash-drivers, their servants and boys, lounging in large squares with their one-horse calashes, looking after their beasts, and on the watch for every hire; watermen smoking their pipes on the Molo; fishermen basking in the sun, waiting on a change of the unfavourable wind which keeps them from sea. Many others, besides, I noticed, sauntering up and down, yet in almost all cases could distinguish what trade they were of. Beggars there were really none, unless they were perfect superannuates, cripples, or other utterly unavailable mortals. The further I searched, the more closely I observed, the less real idlers could I find of any age, of either sex, either in your under or your middle layers of society, either in the morning or during most part of the day.

To make this assertion of mine the more credible and obvious, I will enter into some detail. The tiniest brats themselves are not without their many bits of business. A large fraction of them carry fish from Santa Lucia to sell in the town; others, again, are to be seen creeping about near the arsenal, or where any carpentry is going on likely to yield them some chips, or they are dodging about at the sea-side, snatching the twigs and smallest pieces of wood washed in by the waves and securing them in their baskets. Things, scarcely any age, just able to crawl on the ground, stick by their big brothers and sisters of five to six years old, lending them a helping hand in the trade. Having captured a fair booty they toddle with their baskets into the more central thoroughfares of the town, and there, like more pretentious hawkers, expose their wares for sale. The artisan, the humble townsman, will buy of their stores to burn them on his tripod, either to warm himself or prepare a frugal meal.

Other children carry about for sale the waters of the sulphur springs, which are very much drunk, particularly in Spring. Others, again, try to earn a little by buying fruit, prepared honey, cakes and sugar stuffs, retailing them, juvenile merchants as they are, to other children, a lucky run of business ensuring the enterprising dealer the gratuitous consumption of so many dainties for himself. It is really a pretty sight to watch one of these bantlings, whose whole shop and utensils consist of a board and a knife, carrying about a water-melon, or a half-roasted pumpkin, gathering quite a troop of other children about him, setting down his board, and slicing his fruit into small pieces. The buyers and sellers higgle-haggle with equal earnestness; the former intent on getting the best return for their small copper-pieces, the latter on achieving as great a profit as possible. I am convinced that with a longer stay many other examples of juvenile industry might be collected.

A great number of people, both grown up men and boys, generally very ill-clad, are engaged in transporting the sweepings of the streets out of the town on asses. The ground immediately round Naples is but one kitchen-garden, and it is a pleasure to notice on one hand the immense quantity of vegetables carried into the town every market day, and on the other the great number of men employed in taking back to the fields those parts of the vegetables which have been rejected by the mistress of the kitchen to expedite the revolution of vegetation. With the incredible quantity of vegetables consumed in the town, the stalks and leaves of cauliflower, broccoli, cabbages and garlic really compose a large part of the Neapolitan street-sweepings, the part which is particularly sought after. Two large baskets crammed full of these are suspended on the back of an ass while another heap is also skilfully superimposed. There is, indeed, no keeping a garden without a donkey. A servant, a boy, the master himself, sometimes, hasten every day, as often as possible, to town, where at all times a rich treasure-trove is to be found. With what care they look after the dung of horses and mules may easily be supposed. Reluctantly do they leave the town when the darkness of night compels them; and little do the rich people, driving at midnight from the opera, think how, even before break of day, the traces of their horses will have been carefully swept up. I am assured that a couple of men joining together to buy an ass and rent a piece of vegetable land will by steady diligence, in this happy climate where vegetation is never interrupted, soon acquire a considerable trade.

It would be making too great a discursion were I to speak of the multitudinous small retail trade, which you observe with pleasure in Naples, as in other large towns. Still I cannot forbear referring to the itinerant hucksters, seeing that they particularly belong to the lowest class of the people. Some go about with kegs of ice-water and lemons, ready to make lemonade at any moment, a drink the very poorest cannot dispense with; others with salvers in which stand bottles of different liquors and glasses in wooden rings, secured from falling; others, again, carry about baskets with all kinds of confectionery, sweetmeats, citrons and other fruits, and it appears as though every one was minded to increase and participate in the great feast which is every day celebrated in Naples.

Besides these there is a multitude of itinerant vendors, who, despising all showy or elaborate apparatus, spread out their bits of odds and ends for sale on a board, the lid of a box, or in the Squares on the bare ground. There they display a heterogeneous medley of frippery; pieces of iron, leather, cloth, linen, etc., all which find needy purchasers. Then, over and above, there are many persons employed running errands or doing other odd service for merchants and tradesmen.

It is true, you cannot walk many steps without meeting somebody or other miserably ill-dressed, or even fluttering in rags, but you are not on that account to take him for a vagabond or a cumberer of the ground. Nay, I should almost be inclined to maintain the paradox that in Naples comparatively most of the industry is in the hands of the very lowest class. We must not, of course, think of industry in the sense in which the word is used in the North, where people have to provide not merely for the passing day and hour, but have to make hay while the sun shines against the gloomy days which are sure to overtake them, have to store up in the summer what will tide them through the winter. The inhabitants of the North are compelled by nature to forethought, to making provision for the future. The good housewife must pickle and preserve if the family is to be supplied with food for the whole year, the husband must lay in a store of fuel and produce for the household, as well as fodder for the cattle. The brightest days and hours passing over their heads they are thus forbidden to enjoy, but are obliged, instead, to devote to sore labour. Long months in the year they are driven out of the tempestuous open to shelter in houses from storm, rain, snow and cold; the seasons follow each other inexorably, and whoever will not perish must be a householder. For here it is not at the pleasure of your own goodwill whether to make provision or not; it is a question of pure necessity, nature compels you to lay by, to make provision against the needy day. Unquestionably, the influences of rigorous nature operating for thousands of years have gone to the formation of the character of the northern nations so worthy of honour in many respects. On the other hand, from our point of view, we are apt to judge the natives of the South, towards whom the skies have been so lenient and indulgent, by too strict a rule. The remarks Herr de Pauw makes in his Recherches sur les Grecs, when speaking of the cynic philosophers, are entirely pertinent here. People are much mistaken, he thinks, in their conception of the miserable state of such men. Their principle to dispense with everything was in his opinion very much favoured by a climate which gratuitously yielded everything. A poor man, whom we would fancy to be wretched, could in those lands not only satisfy his immediate necessities, but richly enjoy the world. From this point of view a so-called Neapolitan beggar might easily contemn the post of a Vice-King in Norway, and decline the honour of the Governorship of Siberia, were the Empress of Russia to offer it him.

A cynic philosopher would, assuredly, in our region of the earth find himself hard bestead: in southern latitudes, on the other hand, nature seems to invite one to such a profession. The poorly-dressed man of the South is not in need of warmer clothes. If he has neither house nor lodging he can still sleep with tolerable comfort under the eaves of houses, on the thresholds of palaces and churches, or in public halls, or, in wet weather, obtain for a trifle shelter under a roof. Nor is a man poor because he has not the wherewithal for to-morrow. Just think what a capacity of nutriment lies in the fish-abounding sea, of whose products the people in these parts are required to eat so many days a week, what an abundance of fruit and garden growths of all kinds are to be had at all seasons of the year, how the country in which Naples is situated goes by the name of Terra di Lavoro (the land, not of labour, but of agriculture), and how for centuries the whole province has been distinguished as the “happy land” (Campagna felice), and you will readily comprehend what an easy life is here to be enjoyed.

On the whole, the paradox I have ventured to state above would give rise to many a consideration, if a complete picture of Naples were to be undertaken by any one, a task which, no doubt, might require no little talent and many a year’s observations. It would then, perhaps, be remarked in general that the so-called Lazzaroni are not a hair less active than any of the other classes, that they all in their way do not work simply to live, but to enjoy, and that they are intent on enjoying themselves even while at work. This fact would serve to explain a very great deal; how that the artisans are as a class very much behind those of northern countries; that no factories are set up; that, except in the case of attorneys and doctors, little learning is to be found among the great mass of the people, though sporadically here and there a meritorious man may be found striving after culture; that no painter of the Neapolitan school has ever risen to mastery or greatness; that the clergy are all prone to take things easy; and that the gentry are disposed to turn their honours and possessions mostly into mere sensuous pleasures, pomp and distraction.

I am well aware that this is much too general a statement, and that the characteristic traits of each class are to be drawn correctly only after a more minute investigation and acquaintance; yet on the whole I believe these would be the main results arrived at.

To return to the lower populace of Naples, you observe that, like lively children on whom you impose some task, they indeed perform the business entrusted to them, but yet at the same time endeavour to do it as if in sport. A lively spirit, a free, accurate sense pervades the whole of this class of men. Their language is said to be figurative, their wit very shrewd and cutting. The ancient Atella lay in the neighbourhood of Naples, and seeing their favourite Punchinello still continues those celebrated diversions, the lowest orders of the people down to the present day keep up their interest in the ancient pastimes.

Pliny in the fifth chapter of the third book of his natural history distinguishes Campania as alone worthy of a minute description. “So happy, so graceful, so blessed are those lands,” says he, “that you perceive how in this place nature rejoices in her work. Admire this pleasure of life, this ever salutary mildness of the sky, these so fruitful fields, so sunny hills, so indestructible plantations, so shady groves, so serviceable woods, so breezy mountains, so wide-extended crops, such luxuriance of grapes and oleaginous trees, such superlative fleeces, such fat-necked bullocks, such copious lakes, such wealth of irrigating streams and springs, such abundance of seas, such abundance of harbours! See with delight how the earth herself everywhere opens her bosom to commerce, and as if eager to run to the help of men stretches her arms out into the briny ocean. I speak not of the capacities of the men, their habitudes and powers, and how many peoples they have overcome by might of language and arm! On this land the Greeks, so self-boastful a race, bestowed the highest encomium, by naming a part of it Greece.”

Original German text · Neapel, den 28. Mai 1787

Via Toledo and the Molo

spun — Fri, 18 Sep 2026 10:40:47 +0000

Boys soaking up the last warmth of a wheel-rim heated on the paving, the boundless crowd in which Goethe feels alone and calm, the blood of San Gennaro against the nearby inferno, a Pulcinella quarrelling with a monkey on the Molo and the fritter-makers of St Joseph’s Day: the people of Naples in March.

Naples, 12 March 1787

To-day, according to my custom, I have gone slowly through the city, noting several points, for a future description of it, of which unfortunately I cannot communicate anything to-day. All tends to this one conclusion: that a highly-favored land, which furnishes in abundance the chief necessaries of existence, produces men also of a happy disposition, who, without trouble or anxiety, trust to to-morrow to bring them what to-day has been wanting, and consequently live on in a lighthearted careless sort of life. Momentary gratification, moderate enjoyments, a passing sorrow, and a cheerful resignation!

The morning has been cold and damp, with a little rain. In my walk I came upon a spot where the great slabs of the pavement appeared swept quite clean. To my great surprise I saw, on this smooth and even spot, a number of ragged boys squatting in a circle, and spreading out their hands over the ground, as if to warm them. At first I took it to be some game that they were playing; when, however, I noticed the perfect seriousness and composure of their countenances, with an expression on it of a gratified want, I therefore put my brains to the utmost stretch, but they refused to enlighten me as I desired. I was, therefore, obliged to ask what it could be that had induced these little imps to take up this strange position, and had collected them in so regular a circle.

Upon this I was informed that a neighbouring smith had been heating the tire of a wheel, and that this is done in the following manner:—The iron tire is laid on the pavement, and around is as much oak chips as is considered sufficient to soften the iron to the required degree. The lighted wood burns away, the tire is riveted to the wheel, and the ashes carefully swept up. The little vagabonds take advantage of the heat communicated to the pavement, and do not leave the spot till they have drawn from it the last radiation of warmth. Similar instances of contentedness, and sharp-witted profiting by what otherwise would be wasted, occur here in great number. I notice in this people the most shrewd and active industry, not to make riches, but to live free from care.

Original German text · Neapel, Montag, den 12. März.

Capodimonte

spun — Fri, 18 Sep 2026 10:40:41 +0000

With the Prince of Waldeck to the great collection of paintings, coins and gems at Capodimonte. Here, where such treasures are at home, one learns to value only what has worth; and enormous sums are paid for «Etruscan» vases.

Naples, 9 March 1787

To-day we were with the Prince von Waldeck at Capo di Monte, where there is a great collection of paintings, coins, &c. It is not well arranged, but the things themselves are above praise: we can now correct and confirm many traditional ideas. Those coins, gems, and vases which, like the stunted citron-trees, come to us in the north one by one, have quite a different look here in the mass, and, so to speak, in their own home and native soil. For where works of art are rare, their very rarity gives them a value; here we learn to treasure none but the intrinsically valuable.

A very high price is at present given for Etruscan vases, and certainly beautiful and excellent pieces are to be found among them. Not a traveller but wishes to possess some specimen or other of them; one does not seem to value money here at the same rate as at home: I fear that I myself shall yet be tempted.

Original German text · Neapel, den 9. März.