Goethe describes this incident in his "Italian journey":
"The wind, which blew against me yesterday, and drove me into the harbour of Malsesine, was the cause of a perilous adventure, which I got over with good humour, and the remembrance of which I still find amusing. As I had planned, early in the morning I walked to the old castle, which, since it is without gates, locks, or sentries, is accessible to anyone. I sat down in the courtyard facing the old tower, which is built upon and into the rock. I had found an ideal spot for drawing, at the top of three or four steps that led to a locked door. In the frame of this door stood a little carved stone seat of the kind one can still come across in old buildings of our country.
I had not been sitting there long before several persons entered the courtyard, looked me over and walked up and down. Quite a crowd gathered. Then they came to a stop and I found myself surrounded. I realized that my drawing had created a sensation, but I did not let this disturb me and went on calmly with my work. At last a somewhat unprepossessing-looking man pushed himself forward, came up close to me and asked what I was doing there. I replied that I was drawing the old tower so as to have a memento of Malcesine. This was not allowed, he said, and I must stop at once. Since he spoke in Venetian dialect which I hardly understand, I retorted that I didn’t know what he was saying. At this, with typical Italian nonchalance he tore the page up, though he left it on the pad. When this happened I noticed that some of the bystanders showed signs of indignation, especially one old woman who said this wasn’t right. They should call the podestá, who was the proper judge of such matters. I stood on the step with my back against the door and took in the faces of the crowd, which still kept growing. The eager stares, the goodnatured expression on most of them and all the other characteristics of a crowd of strange people afforded me much amusement. I fancied I saw before me the chorus of ‘Birds’, whom, as the ‘True Friend’, I had so often made fun of on the stage of the Ettersburg theatre. By the time the podestá arrived on the scene with his actuary, I was in the highest spirits and greeted him without reserve. When he asked me why I had made a drawing of their fortress, I said modestly that I had not realized that these ruins were a fortress. I pointed to the ruinous state of the tower and the walls, the lack in gates, in short, to the general defenseless condition of the whole place, and assured him it had never crossed my mind that I was drawing anything but a ruin. He answered: if it were only a ruin, why was it worth noticing? Wishing to gain time and his good will, I went into a detailed exposition; they probably knew, I said, that a great many travelers came to Italy only to see ruins, that Rome, the capital of the world, had been devastated by the Barbarians and was now full of ruins which people had drawn hundreds of times, that not everything from antiquity had been as well preserved as the amphitheater in Verona, which I hoped to see soon.
The podestá stood facing me, but on a lower step. He was a tall, though hardly a lanky, man of about thirty. The dull features of his stupid face were in perfect accord with the slow and obtuse way in which he put his questions. The actuary, though smaller and smarter, also did not seem to know how to handle such a novel and unusual case. I kept on talking about this and that. The people seemed to enjoy listening, and when I directed my words at some kindly-looking women, I thought I could read assent and approval in their faces.
But when I mentioned the amphitheater in Verona, which is known here by the name ‘arena’, the actuary, who had been collecting his wits in the meantime, broke in: that might be all very well, he said, in the case of a world-famous Roman monument, but there was nothing noteworthy about these towers except that they marked the frontier between Venetia and the Austrian Empire, for which reason they were not to be spied upon. I parried this by explaining by some length that the buildings of the Middle Ages were just as worthy of attention as those of Greek and Roman times, though they could not be expected to recognize, as I did, the picturesque beauty of buildings which had been familiar to them since childhood…"
Goethe says that he is from Frankfurt-am-Main, not from Austria. A young woman remembered than an inhabitant of Malcesine, Master Gregario, had lived in Frankfurt for many years. She proposed to send for him. He came and spoke with Goethe.
"...When I had given the most accurate information about almost everything which he asked, his features alternately expressed cheerfulness and solemnity. He was pleased and touched, while the people cheered up more and more, and could not hear too much of our conversation, of which — it must be confessed — he was obliged to translate a part into their own dialect.
At last he said: “Signor Podestá, I am convinced that this man is an honest and educated gentleman who is traveling to enlarge his knowledge. We should treat him as a friend and set him at liberty, so that he may speak well of us to his countrymen and encourage them to visit Malcesine, the beautiful situation of which so well deserves the admiration of foreigners."