Benedetto Croce - Researchers of Goethe's Grand Tour - Unreal Goethe

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 palace of Caserta, Hackert and Emma

spun — Fri, 18 Sep 2026 10:40:55 +0000

A guest of Hackert in the old palace, beside the new one «like the Escorial». Hackert makes everyone his pupil and tells Goethe: «You have talent, but you cannot do anything». «Naples is a paradise»; and in the evening Hamilton and young Emma, who with a shawl and loosened hair passes from one antique pose to the next.

Caserta, 14 March 1787

I am here on a visit to Hackert, in his highly agreeable apartments, which have been assigned him in the ancient castle. The new palace, somewhat huge and Escurial-like, of a quadrangular plan, with many courts, is royal enough. The site is uncommonly fine, on one of the most fertile plains in the world, and yet the gardens trench on the mountains. From these an aqueduct brings down an entire river, to supply water to the palace and the district; and the whole can, on occasion, be thrown on some artificially-arranged rocks, to form a most glorious cascade. The gardens are beautifully laid out, and suit well with a district which itself is thought a garden.

The castle is truly kingly. It appears to me, however, particularly gloomy; and no one of us could bring himself to think the vast and empty rooms comfortable. The King probably is of the same opinion, for he has caused a house to be built on the mountains, which, smaller and more proportioned to man’s littleness, is intended for a hunting-box and country-seat.

Original German text · Caserta, Mittwoch, den 14. März.

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.

Gaetano Filangieri and Vico

spun — Fri, 18 Sep 2026 10:40:33 +0000

The portrait of Cavaliere Filangieri, author of the Science of Legislation: soldier, cavalier and man of the world, tempered by fine moral feeling. He introduces Goethe to Giambattista Vico, the «patriarch» of the Neapolitan jurists. On 9 March, at the Filangieris’, the talkative little lady who invites him to dinner.

Naples, 5 March 1787

I made to-day the acquaintance of an excellent individual, and I must briefly give you a general description of him. It is the Chevalier Filangieri, famous for his work on legislation. He belongs to those noble young men who wish to promote the happiness and the moderate liberty of mankind. In his bearing you recognise at once the soldier, the chevalier, and the man of the world; but this appearance is softened by an expression of tender moral sensibility, which is diffused over his whole countenance, and shines forth most agreeably in his character and conversation; he is, moreover, heartily attached to his sovereign and country, even though he cannot approve of all that goes on. He is also oppressed with a fear of Joseph II. The idea of a despot, even though it only floats as a phantom in the air, excites the apprehensions of every noble-minded man. He spoke to me without reserve, of what Naples had to fear from him; but in particular he was delighted to speak of Montesquieu, Beccaria, and of some of his own writings—all in the same spirit of the best will, and of a heart full of youthful enthusiasm to do good. And yet he may one day be classed with the Thirty. He has also made me acquainted with an old writer, from whose inexhaustible depths these new Italian friends of legislation derive intense encouragement and edification. He is called Giambattista Vico, and is preferred even to Montesquieu. After a hasty perusal of his book, which was lent to me as a sacred deposit, I laid it down, saying to myself, Here are sybilline anticipations of good and right, which once must, or ought to be, realised, drawn apparently from a serious contemplation both of the past and of the present. It is well when a nation possesses such a forefather: the Germans will one day receive a similar codex from Hamann.

Original German text · Neapel, den 5. März 1787.

The Locanda Moriconi

spun — Fri, 18 Sep 2026 10:40:16 +0000

«Alla Locanda del Sgr. Moriconi al Largo del Castello»: Goethe’s first Neapolitan address. A corner room with Pompeian arabesques and no fireplace, a brazier and a sailor’s cowl that makes Tischbein laugh. At the end of May, from the same square, Goethe furnishes Kniep’s lodging and drinks to his future.

Naples, 26 February 1787

“Alla Locanda del Sgr. Moriconi al Largo del Castello.”

Under this address, no less cheerful than high-sounding, letters from all the four quarters of heaven will henceforth find us. Round the castle, which lies by the sea, there stretches a large open space, which, although surrounded on all sides with houses, is not called a square or piazza, but a largo, or expanse. Perhaps the name is derived from ancient times, when it was still an open and unenclosed country. Here, in a corner house on one side of the Largo, we have taken up our lodgings in a corner room, which commands a free and lively view of the ever moving surface. An iron balcony runs before several windows, and even round the corner. One would never leave it, if the sharp wind were not extremely cutting.

The room is cheerfully decorated, especially the ceiling, whose arabasques of a hundred compartments bear witness to the proximity of Pompeii and Herculaneum. Now, all this is very well and very fine; but there is no fire-place, no chimney, and yet February exercises even here its rights. I expressed a wish for something to warm me. They brought in a tripod of sufficient height from the ground for one conveniently to hold one’s hands over it; on it was placed a shallow brazier, full of extremely fine charcoal red-hot, but covered smoothly over with ashes. We now found it an advantage to be able to manage this process of domestic economy; we had learned that at Rome. With the ring of a key, from time to time, one cautiously draws away the ashes of the surface, so that a few of the embers may be exposed to the free air. Were you impatiently to stir up the glowing coals, you would no doubt experience for a few moments great warmth, but you would in a short time exhaust the fuel, and then you must pay a certain sum to have the brasier filled again.

I did not feel quite well, and could have wished for more of ease and comfort. A reed matting was all there was to protect one’s feet from the stone floor; skins are not usual. I determined to put on a sailor’s cloak which we had brought with us in fun, and it did me good service, especially when I tied it round my body with the rope of my box. I must have looked very comical, something between a sailor and a capuchin. When Tischbein came back from visiting some of his friends, and found me in this dress, he could not refrain from laughing.

Original German text · Neapel, Montag, den 26. Februar.