[i]

[ii]

Madam,

If there be any one circumstance peculiarly gratifying to myself, as the Author of the present Narrative, it is the permission I have received to dedicate it to your Royal Highness.

The kind manner in which this honour has been conferred, cannot fail to increase the value of the boon, and strengthen the ties of gratitude by which I felt bound to your Royal Highness, for the flattering notice, and important favours, you had previously been pleased to bestow upon me.

[iv]

I beg to assure your Royal Highness, that it will ever be the proudest feeling of my heart, that my very humble production should have been ushered into public notice, under the auspices of a Patroness, whose exalted virtues have secured her universal esteem and respect, and made her the admiration of that sex, of which she is the distinguished and presiding ornament.

With every sentiment of devotion, I am,

Madam,

Your Royal Highness’s

Much obliged and very obedient Servant,

JAMES HOLMAN.

The very peculiar circumstances under which the Author professes to obtrude the present volume upon public notice, appear to require some explanation, were it only to obviate suspicions which might arise, that the general detail of circumstances which it comprises, has been the production of an active imagination, rather than a relation of the occurrences of real life; for he is fully aware, that such a construction might be put upon the apparent anomaly of the travels of one, whose loss of sight, a source of information naturally considered indispensable in such an undertaking, must greatly limit his power of acquiring the legitimate materials, necessary to give his work body and consistency.

[vi]

On this account, it may not be superfluous, to enter upon a brief history of his misfortune, as introductory to an explanation of the motives which have influenced him in bringing forward the present publication.

Destined to the naval service of his country, his exclusive attention, for some years, was devoted to the attainment of that professional knowledge, which he hoped might lead to honourable distinction; how far these views were likely to have been crowned with success, it will now be useless to state; it is sufficient to say, that at the age of twenty-five, while in the very bloom of expectation, his prospects were irrecoverably blighted by the effects of an illness, resulting from his professional duties, and which left him deprived of all the advantages of “heavens prime decree,”—wholly—and, he fears, permanently blind.

After the distressing feelings which accompanied the first shock of this bodily privation, had[vii] in some measure subsided, the active mind began to seek occupation and amusement, amongst the many resources which a beneficent Providence had still left uncurtailed. These he has happily found, not only abundant, but apparently inexhaustible; and the lapse of ten years, has not merely softened down the sense of misfortune, but even reconciled him to an affliction, which some view as the severest that can befal humanity.

Amongst the various pursuits which have served to cheer, and sooth him throughout this protracted day of darkness, the book of nature has been largely opened to his mental view; nor has he failed to cultivate the pleasing fields of literature; and he may exclaim with our admired poet, when he so pathetically bewails the loss of this most precious organ:

[viii]

In time he began to acquire greater facility of locomotion than he could have anticipated, and which was succeeded by an almost irresistible inclination to visit different parts of his native country, in quest of knowledge or amusement; notwithstanding the limited information, which it may be imagined he would thus derive, he found the impressions produced, afford him not only present, but permanent gratification. To some, this may appear incredible; it must, however, not be forgotten, that the loss of one sense, is uniformly compensated by superior powers of those that remain unimpaired, in consequence of their being more called into action; and it is well known, that the sense of touch, in particular, acquires so great a delicacy, as to afford degrees of information, which under ordinary states it is incapable of: besides this advantage, he acquired an undefinable power, almost resembling instinct, which he believes in a lively manner gives him ideas of whatever may be going forward externally.

In the year 1819, his health having for some time suffered from causes which it is unnecessary[ix] to mention, the Author became assured that nothing would tend more to re-establish it, than a visit to the highly favoured clime of the southern parts of Europe: while at the same time, and which was, perhaps, paramount to all other considerations, he would be gratifying his desire of obtaining information; he therefore, with this double view, determined to undertake the journey which forms the subject of the present pages;—and is happy to say, that in neither of these objects has he met with disappointment.

It may be more difficult to assign satisfactory reasons, for laying before his readers the various incidents which befel him, in this pursuit of health and occupation; for he is not vain enough to imagine, that they could feel interested in his acquisition of the one, or participate with him in the enjoyment of the other.

The compilation was, in the first instance, entered upon as a matter of employment and selfish pleasure. None but those who have travelled through countries, and amidst circumstances novel to them, can appreciate the delight experienced[x] from recalling in this way the interesting points of an interesting journey, and fighting as it were, their battles over again. On shewing a portion of the notes thus collected to his friends, their too kind partiality (for such he fears it has been) induced them to think that if published, they might not prove wholly unacceptable to the public, and their solicitations and assurances at length determined him to adopt their suggestions.

The Author will not profess to be ignorant of the presumptuous nature of his attempt; or unconscious of the numerous deficiencies and inaccuracies with which his work abounds; many of these are necessarily attributable to the disadvantages under which he has laboured; his very outset was amidst unfavourable circumstances, as he was then almost wholly unacquainted with that language, which could alone enable him to acquire the information he was seeking for: this must be his apology for the want of observation and incident, which are more particularly manifest throughout the first months of his residence in France.

The want of vision must frequently make his[xi] observations and descriptions imperfect; to compensate for this, he has availed himself of such intelligence as he could derive from others; and, for the same reasons, has introduced a variety of extracts from interesting authors, which appeared desirable to elucidate or enliven his narrative.

He rests his chief hope of the approbation of the public, upon having given a plain and faithful statement of a journey, which must be regarded as possessing a degree of originality, arising from the peculiar circumstances under which it was accomplished.

He now concludes his prefatory matter, by soliciting the indulgence of his readers, and entreating them not to criticise with too much severity, a work which, he trusts, has some claims upon their forbearance; and which, if it happens to repay their perusal by any pleasurable emotion, or to excite a kind sympathy for his own situation, will have answered the fullest expectation of its author.

Windsor,
May 1st, 1822.

[xii]

My friends expressed considerable surprise, when I announced my actual determination to undertake a continental tour, and I believe many of them, to the last moment, were inclined to doubt whether I seriously intended it; they did not fail to question how I proposed, with my personal defects, to make progress through a strange country, unaccompanied by even a servant to assist and protect me, and with an almost total ignorance of the languages of the various people I was about to visit. I urged in reply, that the experience of more than twenty years, during which I had been, as it were, a citizen of the world, and a great part of which had been spent in foreign[14] climes, would be sufficient to direct me through the common occurrences and incidents, to which the traveller is exposed; that for the rest, I was content to leave it to God, upon whose protection, in the midst of dangers, I had the most implicit reliance, and under whose providential guidance, I doubted not to attain the completion of the various objects of my journey, remembering, as Cowper happily expresses it, that

It may be difficult to say, under what description of traveller I proposed to class myself. Sterne enumerates the following species of the wandering tribe. “Idle travellers; inquisitive travellers; lying travellers; proud travellers; vain travellers; splenetic travellers; travellers of necessity; the delinquent and felonious traveller; the unfortunate and innocent traveller; the simple traveller; and last of all (if you please), the sentimental traveller.” Now I do not think any of these titles strictly applicable to myself; I shall not, however, attempt to determine the point, but leave it to the courteous reader to apply that which he may consider most appropriate.

I reached Dover on the evening of the 14th of October, 1819, and on the following morning embarked[15] with a fair wind for Calais. This day is the more remarkable to me, as being, in addition to the present incident, the anniversary of my birth, as well as the same day of the year in which, after my loss of sight, I first set out for Edinburgh, to commence a course of studies at that celebrated university. In little more than three hours we arrived off the harbour of Calais, when the tide not answering for our making the pier, a boat came out for the mail, and I availed myself of the opportunity of going on shore; for this earlier accommodation I was charged five francs, a sum nearly equal to half the fare across the channel.

Behold me, then, in France! surrounded by a people, to me, strange, invisible, and incomprehensible; separated from every living being who could be supposed to take the least interest in my welfare, or even existence; and exposed to all the influence of national prejudice, which is said to prompt this people to take every advantage of their English neighbours. To counteract these disadvantages, I had nothing but the common feelings of humanity, assisted by the once boasted politesse of the great nation, and which might be expected to operate in favour of an afflicted stranger.

My commencement however proved auspicious, for I found an English valet-de-place, or commissionaire,[16] on the pier, who assisted me through the ceremonials of the Custom-house, where they did me the favour to take two francs as a remuneration for their trouble in inspecting my luggage. He then conducted me to the Grand Cerf Hotel; and after I had taken refreshment, went with me to facilitate my inquiries respecting the diligences to Paris, for which place I proposed setting off on the following morning. After this, we extended our walk through the town, and visited the ramparts and banks of the canal to St. Omer.

On returning to the Hotel, I partook for the first time of a French dinner; and, the commissionaire having left me, had the advantage of being waited upon by Paul the garçon, who did not understand one word of English; I had no little difficulty in getting through the routine of this important repast. Afterward I repeated my walk through the town, and on my return was surprised to learn that a person had been enquiring for me. It proved to be the waiter of the Hotel where I had breakfasted at Dover, who had crossed the channel in pursuit of a French gentleman who had taken his breakfast at the same table with me, and whom a friend of mine had endeavoured to interest in my favour. This gentleman had received from the waiter a ten pound note in exchange instead of a smaller one, and the latter[17] was anxious to recover his lost property. I was sorry that I could give him no satisfactory information, for notwithstanding he had promised to shew me all possible attention before leaving Dover, and even regretted he could not give me a place in his carriage to Paris, he kept himself quite aloof after getting on shipboard, so that in short I heard no more of him.

In the evening Virginie, the fille de chambre, attended to put me to bed, and appeared literally to have expected to assist in the various operations of disrobing, &c. I was, however, enabled, through the medium of the commissionaire, to assure her, that it was quite unnecessary to give her that trouble. So, dismissing my attendants with the candle, I secured the door, and retired to rest.

In the morning I arose early, and inhaled the fresh breeze upon the pier, a wooden structure, which extends itself for a considerable distance into the sea. At the extremity near the town, is a pillar, erected by the loyal people of Calais, in commemoration of the landing of Louis XVIII. immediately after the first subjection of Napoleon, and near to it a brass plate, with the figure of a foot cast in it, fixed upon the very spot where this monarch first trod the French ground, after so long an absence from his affectionate subjects.

[18]

Breakfast was scarcely concluded, when it became necessary to take my place in the diligence for Paris; I occupied a seat in the cabriolet, which, in this coach, was unusually large, being sufficiently commodious to accommodate six persons, and where I had the pleasure of finding two of my countrymen, each with a son, proceeding to some school near Paris.

It may be worth while to mention, that upon the information of my commissionaire, I had paid forty-five francs for my fare. This was indeed the regular charge, but I have found, by taking advantage of certain opposition carriages, the expense might have been materially lessened. One of my companions, in fact, had bargained for forty francs for himself and his son; and the other had secured his two places for thirty-five only.

The usual hour for the departure of the diligence was ten o’clock; but we anticipated this time, and set out at half-past nine, in consequence of its being a fête day, when the gates of the town are closed from ten till noon, during the performance of high mass.

About two o’clock we reached Boulogne, where we dined, and took into our vacant place a journeyman bootmaker, who was going to Paris. We now proceeded without stopping, except to change horses, until midnight, when we reached Abbeville.[19] On arriving at this place, the passengers in the body of the coach, which, cumbrous as it was, had but two wheels, hastily and unexpectedly jumping out, without apprising the cabriolet, the whole weight of ourselves and the carriage was thrown forward, to such excess, upon the backs of the horses, that, unable to sustain the pressure, they sunk under it, and were with difficulty raised again.

We were at this place thankful for a refreshment of cold meat and wine, as we had tasted nothing since leaving Boulogne, except some sour apples, which our young gentlemen had knocked down on the sides of the road; it was necessary, however, to disturb three or four houses before we succeeded in procuring it.

The morning gave us “token of a goodly day.” At eleven o’clock we halted for breakfast at Beauvais, and were apprised that an excellent one, a la fourchette, was prepared at the hotel where our carriage rested; but the party agreeing to give the preference to coffee, the bootmaker offered to conduct us where we should get it both good and cheap. We consented to follow him, and were regaled with a large bowl of coffee, with as much milk, sugar, and toasted bread, as we pleased; for which they charged us at the extraordinary rate of five sous per head.

[20]

At noon we pursued our journey, and at seven in the evening arrived at Paris. When the business of the coach was arranged, the conducteur walked with me to the Hotel de Suede, near the Palais-Royal, to which I had been recommended.

While supper was in preparation, I walked to the Rue de la Paix, to call upon a lady whom I had known in England, and was at first surprised to learn, it being Sunday evening, that she was gone to a ball; but it is the custom in France to participate in amusements on Sunday more than on any other day in the week. It rejoiced me, however, to know, that my friend was in Paris.

At supper, the maitre d’hotel, a Swede, but acquainted with the English language, waited upon me himself, and enumerated with such encomiums his fine stock of wine, that I could do no less than order a bottle of Burgundy, which I found deliciously refreshing; and thought it economical enough, as it was charged only two francs.

In consequence of the fatigue which I had experienced on my journey, I was glad to retire early to bed. On entering my chamber, I could not but be impressed by its cold comfortless feel; the floor was of stone, the tables marble, the wash-hand basin long, oval, and shallow, like an[22] old fashioned salad dish, and all the furniture of correspondent antiquity. But I had determined not to give way to gloomy reflections; therefore, I wished my host a good night, and being left to myself, soon regained that contented frame of mind, which is indispensable to those who mean to pass smoothly, and happily, through this scene of mortality. On the present occasion I convinced myself that I had every reason to be grateful to that Power, which had so far conducted me in safety through my journey, and whose blessings and mercies have been so largely, I may say incessantly, extended over me.

A part of the succeeding morning was appropriated to calling upon friends for whom I had letters. The one I first inquired for was gone to the south of France; but I had the pleasure of meeting with my old shipmate L⸺ and a friend of his, both of whom had been fellow students with me in Edinburgh. I then repeated my visit to Miss L⸺, at whose house I had called on the preceding evening, and found she had returned that call during my absence; she expressed much surprise and pleasure at seeing me, and engaged me to dine with her on the following day.

I returned to our table d’hôte dinner, and had the unexpected pleasure of finding there a friend whom I had left in Bath the previous spring.[23] There was also another English gentleman at table, who invited me to walk with him to the Palais-Royal. We accordingly took our coffee at one of the numerous caffés, with which that quarter abounds. My companion was a stranger in Paris as well as myself; in consequence of which we contrived to lose our way, and had considerable difficulty in regaining our hotel; we escaped, however, all the dangers, and supercheries, of this very notorious place.

On Tuesday morning, my friend L⸺ called, for the express purpose of accompanying me to inquire after the conveyances to Bordeaux. We were informed, that two coaches leave Paris daily for that place; one at three o’clock, from the Messagerie-Royal, running by way of Tours, where it rests on the second night for a few hours, and occupying four days, and as many nights, in the journey, the fare sixty francs; the other taking the route of Orleans, five days on the road, and the fare fifty francs. The former is considered the best appointed, and the roads and hotels, with which it is connected, much preferable.

But, as it cannot fail to be irksome to travel three or four hundred miles at one sitting, with the exception of the short rest at Tours, I would recommend the English traveller to accomplish some part of his journey in a voiture de voyage,[24] and then rest for a day or two; or perhaps he might, in the first instance, take a place in a regular coach, termed a jumeaux, which travels to Tours in two days; after which the journey may be prosecuted to Poitiers in a voiture or diligence, where the chance must be taken of being carried forward to Bordeaux in the same manner.

After this inquiry, I had to keep my appointment for dinner with Miss L⸺, where I met a young lady, her niece, who resided with her, and Colonel M⸺, a gentleman to whom my friend was on the point of marriage. I enjoyed my visit much, but took leave at an early hour, under the promise of breakfasting with her, at twelve in the morning, a la fourchette.

This lady was anxious that, instead of leaving Paris immediately for Bordeaux, as I had intended, I should place myself for a week in a boarding-house, with a view of gaining, before I commenced so long a journey, some slight acquaintance with the French language. This advice appeared so excellent, that I determined to follow it; and after breakfast, Miss L⸺ was kind enough to accompany me to a house which she recommended, and where I immediately took up my residence.

I should feel myself inexcusable, if I neglected, in this place, to express the lively sense I entertain,[25] of the many kind attentions, which I received from this amiable lady, and which rather indicated the affectionate regards of a sister, than the notices of an accidental acquaintance. I regretted that this was the last opportunity I had of seeing her in Paris, as she was obliged immediately to leave town for Fontainbleau, and did not return before my departure.

During the week I remained in Mr. Fetherstone’s boarding-house, the weather was wet and cold, so that we were much confined within doors; but as our party consisted of twenty individuals, there was no want of amusement, and the continued intercourse necessarily kept up amongst us, tended materially to promote my object of acquiring the language. The following anecdote will serve to shew, how much I was in need of improvement in this respect.

[26]

On the morning after my entrance into this family, I rang the bell of my bed-chamber, and requested a French servant to bring me hot water; in answer to this he replied, “toute a l’heure,” with the meaning of which I was at the time totally ignorant: after waiting a quarter of an hour, I rang again, and received the same reply, “toute a l’heure,” but with no better result: I again repeated my application, it was still “toute a l’heure:” at length, after, the lapse of an hour, he brought the water. At breakfast, I took the opportunity of inquiring the signification of this convenient expression, requesting to be informed, whether it implied any specific time, when they told me it meant “immediately.” I thought, however, in the present instance, that the action did not suit the word.

It may be expected, that I should make some remarks concerning the Parisian theatres, and other places of amusement; however my ignorance of the language, and want of vision, as well as the state of the weather, diminished the ardour of the desires which I possessed, on entering Paris, to visit these scenes; however, the many recent accounts that have been published, leave me no cause to regret the omission. For similar reasons I am prevented from attempting any description of this grand city; and, therefore, in lieu[27] of it, beg leave to offer the following laconic and popular petite chanson.

[28]

The week now drawing to a close, I prepared to quit Paris; in particular, I had my passport arranged, a point frequently attended with much trouble, as it must in the first instance be procured from the police, then presented for the signature of the English ambassador, after which it is returned to the police, and some other office, for their definitive signatures, before the individual is permitted to depart.

Having engaged a place in the diligence, which took the way of Tours, in the afternoon of the 27th of October, I commenced my journey to Bordeaux, after bidding farewell

In order to guard against the same irregularity of meals, which I had suffered from on my way to Paris, I took care to be provided with a tongue, fruit, and a bottle of wine. My companions were three Frenchmen, and of course I could anticipate little conversation, at least they were sure soon to find me a dead letter; but notwithstanding, I doubted not but that I should derive occupation and amusement from my own reflections, and determined to avail myself of all the opportunities of social intercourse which might offer themselves. As may be imagined, the afternoon passed off very silently on my part: at night I contrived to dose a little, and my companions accorded with me perfectly in this respect.

On the following day we dined at Blois, where[30] they gave us some of the finest grapes I had yet partaken of in France. In the evening the weather proved rainy; at midnight we arrived at Tours, from whence, after resting a few hours, we proceeded on our journey at five o’clock in the morning; at eight o’clock we halted at a small town for breakfast, where I derived some gratification from meeting with a person who could speak English, an Irish horse-dealer, travelling with his string of horses from Rochelle to Paris.

We reached Poitiers for dinner, at the late hour of eight in the evening, but my companions did not appear to be annoyed at this late postponement of their favourite repast. It appears very immaterial to a Frenchman when he gets his meals, he is not only toujours prêt, but endures fasting with better grace by far than an Englishman. On the following day we passed through Limoges and Angoulême. In the afternoon of this day, we took up a woman and her daughter, aged about seventeen, with a child; these were the only females I had yet met with in a diligence in France, and I could not but feel irritated at the ungallant treatment they received from their countrymen. The young lady having placed herself in the seat of one of them, he very rudely insisted upon her restoring it: I regretted that I was unable to advocate her cause: but possibly this feeling[31] might be dictated by some selfish motive, as a desire to resent certain indignities to which I had been subjected by the same individual, who frequently annoyed me with the fumes of his segar, and once had the impudence to puff them in my face; I felt not a little inclined to give him personal chastisement, but prudence restrained me.

About nine o’clock on the following morning, being Sunday, the 31st of October, one of our company exclaimed, “Voilà Bordeaux!” The sound revived me exceedingly, for I was become irritable and impatient, from the length and fatigue of the journey. At twelve o’clock the coach halted, and my fellow-passengers immediately jumped out, leaving me to shift for myself. Of course I concluded that we had arrived at the coach-office, and began to call loudly for the conducteur to come and assist me in getting out. He immediately presented himself, uttered the now well-known “toute a l’heure,” and left me. Although I perfectly recollected the unlimited signification of this word in Paris, what could I do? Had I jumped out, I should not have known what step to have taken next, and the rain was falling in torrents. There appeared no remedy, but to sit patiently until it might please some one to come to my assistance. In a while I heard at[32] least thirty people around the coach, talking a loud and unintelligible gibberish, quite unlike any language of the country which I had hitherto heard; soon afterwards I perceived the carriage undergoing an extraordinary, and irregular kind of motion; the people occasionally opened the door, and made me move from one side to the other, as if they were using me for shifting ballast; I inferred that they were taking off the wheels, with a view of placing the carriage under cover. After this I became sensible of a noise of water splashing, as if they were throwing it from out of hollows, where it had collected in consequence of the rain. It was in vain that I endeavoured to gain an explanation of my being thus left behind in the coach, the only satisfaction I could derive was “tout a l’heure,” and the conviction that nothing remained for me but to be patient.

At length the motion began to increase, and to my great surprise, after an hour’s suspense, I heard the horses again attaching to the carriage; the passengers re-entered the coach, and we once more proceeded on our journey!

It was afterwards explained to me, that these unaccountable proceedings arose, on our having[33] arrived on the banks of the river Dordogne, which enters the Garonne, near Bordeaux, from the necessity, at this point, of transporting the carriage on a raft for some distance down the stream; that the passengers had crossed the river in a ferry-boat, to a coach waiting for them on the other side, leaving me to float down with the carriage on the raft, or sink to the bottom as fate might determine; in short, I found that, while I supposed myself sitting in the coach-office yard at Bordeaux, I had actually travelled four miles by water, without having entertained the least idea of such an adventure.

In a quarter of an hour after this, we actually arrived at the coach office. On alighting, I was accosted by a man, who in the English language informed me, that he was a traiteur (or the keeper of an eating and lodging-house), and who did me the favour of recommending to me, in very strong terms, both his house and his wife; the latter, he said, was an American, spoke English well, and would provide me an excellent bed, as well as every thing else I might wish for; but as I had a particular introduction to a friend, I determined to decline these tempting offers, until I had consulted him: taking the traiteur’s card therefore, and requesting him to procure a hackney-coach, I drove straightway to the house of my friend,[34] who recommended me to take lodgings in preference. I lost no time in adopting his suggestion, and taking immediate possession of my apartments, experienced the great luxury and refreshment of changing my dress, after four days’ uninterrupted travelling.

After this, my friend accompanied me to dine at a traiteur’s, first bargaining that we should be allowed to select any four dishes from the carte, for which, with a small bottle of wine, and pain a discrétion, we were to pay about fifteen-pence each. In the first place, we were served with soup in silver basins; then came an entré of ragoûts, and afterwards a roast chicken, followed by a dessert. When we had done, we gave the waiter three or four sous, with which he appeared highly satisfied.

On the following morning, at the urgent instance of my friend, I consulted an eminent oculist of this place, respecting my eyes, who appeared to entertain the same opinion as most of my medical attendants in England; namely, that a cataract existed, but not sufficiently matured, to be operated upon, with advantage, for the present. My friend, however, was not satisfied with this opinion, and insisted upon taking me to the wife of an umbrella-maker, famous for her skill in restoring sight, and who recommended a long[35] course of herb medicines, and other nostrums; but I wanted faith in her power to serve me, and moreover, was satisfied with the opinions, in which my medical friends had concurred, as well as reconciled to my deprivation, and resigned to the will of Providence.

My next attention, was to ascertain the modes of conveyance to Toulouse. We found that the diligence sets out every other day at ten in the morning, occupying two days, and two nights on the road, the fare forty-five francs; there was, however, also a voiture from Paris, leaving on the following morning, and which would be five days on the journey, resting always at night; and by the recommendation of my friend, I determined to give it the preference; in short, I was pleased with the idea of this new mode of travelling. An agreement in writing was drawn up, to which the proprietor affixed his signature, and according to which, amongst other stipulations, I was to be taken up from my lodgings, and provided, during my journey, with a bed-room to myself every night. We were informed that an officer and his wife were to be of the party, and the latter happening to be present, offered to render me every[36] assistance in her power; this, I must admit, was an additional inducement with me, for the attentions of the softer sex are peculiarly acceptable under my present affliction; and it is but a just tribute to their kindness, to say, that I have abundantly experienced them; and farther, I am convinced that the sympathy I have so often met with, is perfectly congenial with the innate principles of the female character.

My stay in Bordeaux was too brief to enable me to acquire any knowledge of this ancient and celebrated city, nor indeed, had it been prolonged, do my inclinations, or powers, qualify me for topographical description; the chief object of the present narrative, being to relate the incidents of a journey, which at the time greatly interested me, and to give as faithful representations of men and manners, as the opportunities which presented themselves, and my personal disadvantages would admit of; in short, to

I was apprised by a porter, at three o’clock, that the voiture was in readiness, and after bustling to be in time, was by no means pleased to find that I had been disturbed an hour too soon; nor was my dissatisfaction diminished, when the porter, by signs, gave me to understand, that I must traverse the greater part of the city with him to the coach-office; it was in vain to remonstrate with a person who could not understand me, and insist upon the fulfilment of my agreement; at length, however,[38] to cut short the argument, my conductor, with a mixture of passion and impatience, seized my portmanteau, and gave me to understand, that I had no alternative but to accompany him, or lose my passage. In fine, I was obliged to submit, and after half an hour’s walk, we reached the voiture in safety. The next measure was to place my portmanteau in security, and which, unless I had interfered, would have been exposed on the outside of the voiture. Travellers in France should always superintend the stowage of their luggage, as it is not unusual to have it stolen from the exterior of the carriage. Dr. O⸺, a gentleman, whom I had the pleasure of meeting in the summer of 1820, at Aix in Provence, in travelling from Lyons to Geneva, lost his trunk, containing valuable collections he had made in Italy, and other property, worth some thousand francs, from the outside of the diligence. He was induced to commence an action against the proprietors, either to stimulate them to recover his property, or to make them compensate his loss; but finding that, after a tedious and expensive process, the utmost he could recover, would be a thousand francs, he thought it most prudent to abandon it.

At length our arrangements being completed, the voiturier made the customary signal with his whip, and we bade adieu to Bordeaux.

[39]

One of the earliest, and most obvious attentions of the traveller in a public stage, is to reconnoitre his companions, and endeavour to ascertain whether it be possible to elicit information or amusement from them; the group with which I was now thrown into collision, was not unlikely to be productive of interest; I was soon convinced, from the nature of their conversation, that my companions were not of the genteelest stamp. The women were at home in speaking patois, and the only one who could not join in this, was the person who, I suppose from his wearing a large cocked-hat, had been taken for an officer, but who, I afterwards found, had been a bootmaker in one of Bonaparte’s cavalry regiments.

At ten o’clock we halted, and were regaled with a breakfast a la fourchette, consisting of soup bouillè, ragoûts, roasted fowls, and little birds; the compliments of the table were paid me; my companions did not sit down until I had nearly finished; and the voiturier placed himself by my side, serving me with every dish as it was brought in, and appearing to expect me to partake of all of them. I confined myself chiefly to the soup and rôti; the little birds would have relished well, had not a slice of bacon placed on the breast of each, destroyed their natural flavour.

At one o’clock we recommenced our journey,[40] and at six in the evening, reached our resting place for the night. After a delay of two hours, a profuse supper was served up in regular courses, and concluded by a dessert of grapes, pruins, apples, pears, nuts, and small sponge cakes. I was not a little surprised at their mode of cooking a cauliflower which I had inquired for; after a great many “toute a l’heure’s,” it made its appearance, boiled as soft as batter, and mixed up with oil, vinegar, and pepper, like a salad!

The wine was excellent, and the glass circulated freely. Who thought I, would not travel in a voiture, to live thus cheerily, and at so trifling an expense, for it will scarcely appear credible, that the proprietor had engaged to convey me to Toulouse, a distance of one hundred and twenty-five miles, occupying five days on the journey, and providing me with every necessary, beds included, for thirty-five francs, equal to about five shillings and ten pence English money per day!

Our supper party consisted of nine or ten persons, not indeed of the most select kind, but I had no right to complain, as with a view of avoiding trouble, and imposition, and at the same time, with some prospect of deriving gratification from the melange of characters I expected to meet with, I had engaged to put up with the general fare.

My companions appeared to enjoy their repast,[41] and every additional glass evidently produced increased animation, as they talked louder and faster. They were, however, particularly attentive to myself, my want of sight probably exciting their sympathy.

At length, fatigued with the scene, I gave them to understand that I wished to retire, and was conducted to a chamber which was furnished with several beds, and had the pleasure of finding the one that had been selected for my repose, good and commodious. But an important dilemma now presented itself: taking the fille-de-chambre by the hand, in order to ascertain that she was carrying the candle away with her, a point I am always particular in attending to, as, when it has been left behind, I have occasionally burnt my fingers, and once even made an extinguisher of my chin; and then making a motion to lock her out, that I might, according to the especial clause in my agreement to that effect, appropriate the room entirely to myself, I was surprised to find her as strenuously oppose this measure, as most of the fair sex, I have no doubt, would an attempt to lock them in. It was useless endeavouring to comprehend her meaning, and only by returning to the supper-room, did I learn, that the room in question, was intended for the accommodation of the whole party. It is not easy to conceive the[42] confusion which ensued, on my evincing a steady determination not to pass the night by the side of the conducteur, or even the ladies of our party; I persisted, however, in my resolution, and folding my arms, and closing my eye-lids, reclined, in the posture of repose, in a large easy chair in which I happened to be placed.

At length, the bootmaker’s wife, taking me by the hand, conducted me to a single-bedded room, from which, after having assisted in my arrangements, and warmed my bed, she permitted me to lock her out.

I cannot but express myself grateful, for the interest this kind-hearted woman evinced in my favour, on the present occasion; but this is not the only time, that I have been indebted for support and success, to a fair advocate.

At four in the morning we were summoned by the conducteur, and the soldier’s wife kindly came to assist me down stairs. The party were assembled in the parlour, and fortifying themselves, against the fatigues of the day, with bread and brandy, but I gave the preference to some grapes. At eleven, we halted for breakfast, and, according to the usual custom, rested two hours in the middle of the day; after this we pursued our journey, the conducteur mounting under cover in front of the voiture, to protect him from the rain, which[43] was falling heavily. About three o’clock, while proceeding so quietly, that it might almost be presumed, that not only the conducteur and his passengers, but the horses themselves were fast asleep, we were aroused by the very interesting incident of our whole equipage, including the horses, being overturned into a deep ditch. I shall not attempt to describe the noise and confusion which succeeded; the party were almost frantic with terror; at length, having succeeded in extricating ourselves from this unpleasant situation, I was placed for shelter under a large tree, while the rest assisted the conducteur in raising up the coach and horses. This operation took up half-an-hour, during which, I could hear our guide contributing abundantly, both with his whip and imprecations.

Fortunately no serious injury was sustained, and I felt strong reason to congratulate myself, for I had heard in the morning, that we were to cross the Garonne this afternoon, and my first impression was, that we were falling into this river; nor had I forgotten my adventures on the Dordogne.

The carriage being at length righted, the conducteur urged forward his jaded horses with little mercy, probably stimulated by revenge for the late occurrence, which was mainly attributable to his own negligence. At six o’clock we crossed the Garonne, and in consequence of delays and accidents,[44] did not arrive at our auberge until eight o’clock, when we dispatched a hasty supper, and retired to bed. I here found the advantage of my resolution on the preceding evening, having an undisputed bed-room to myself.

We resumed our journey at the usual hour in the morning. Before we set out, the conducteur requested me to advance him a part of his fare, and which I believe is usual, if not generally necessary, as these people are so miserably poor, that, otherwise, they would be unable to bear the unavoidable expenses of the journey; but in my case, as it was agreed that he should be paid by my banker, on my safe arrival at Toulouse, he had no right to expect the indulgence. This arrangement had been adopted from my wish to have it supposed that I was travelling without money, notwithstanding, I had the precaution, as a resource against accidents, not only to have a few napoleons in my portmanteau, but also some in a girdle round my waist, so that I had a double chance of not being left destitute.

In the present case, in order to put this surly fellow into good humour, I thought well to advance him a couple of five franc pieces, but without producing the effect I had anticipated; for finding myself suffering from headach, which I attributed to want of due exercise, I made signs for him to[45] halt, while I might get out of the coach, with the intention of walking for a time; he only, however, replied, with much coolness, “toute a l’heure;” and notwithstanding my repeated request, was quite indisposed to accommodate me, until I manifested my intention of jumping out: he now thought well to stop his horses, and proffer his assistance; however, I refused it, and succeeded in finding the back part of the coach, where I secured my hold by means of a piece of cord (which when travelling I make a rule to carry always in my pocket), and which, in the present instance, served me as a leading string; I then followed, in this way, on foot for several miles, to the no small amusement of the villagers, who laughed heartily, and even shouted after me. I had, however, the satisfaction of getting rid of my headach, and succeeded in completely tiring myself. We did not reach our breakfast point before two o’clock, and proceeding again at four, arrived proportionately late at the end of the day’s journey.

The succeeding morning proved remarkably fine, and we prosecuted our journey with additional pleasure. I found the conducteur more humble, and my companions, in general, more attentive to me than usual. The advantage I had derived from exercise on the preceding day determined me to walk again, and the bootmaker civilly offered[46] me his arm. After proceeding some distance, he proposed entering a wine-shop, to which I assented; we tried three, however, before we found any wine to our taste: in consequence of the time thus lost, the voiture got considerably the start of us, so that we were obliged to exert ourselves to regain it.

On producing our wine, the provision-bags were also brought forward; we became merry as gypsies, and my cocked-hat friend particularly facetious. Soon after one o’clock, we arrived, in high glee, at our breakfasting-place, where we found a voiture full of students, on their way to the university of Toulouse. These young gentlemen paid me a marked attention during our repast, assisting me liberally to the produce of the table, and replenishing my glass before it was empty. When the voiture was ready, I walked forward with the soldier’s wife, who appeared a far more respectable woman, than from her situation in life might have been expected. I now learnt, partly by words, and partly by signs, the situation and circumstances of her husband; that subsequently to the peace, he had attempted to support himself in Germany by his trade; but difficulties arising, he was removing to Toulouse, her native place, in hopes of proving more successful.

In the course of our walk, we ascended a[47] considerable hill, from which, my companion informed me, the prospect was most extensive and beautiful. The air at this spot I found so soft, balmy, and exhilarating, that I felt assured I had now reached the south of France. After crossing a river, at seven o’clock we reached our quarters for the evening. The students had preceded us, and in consequence of their occupying the attention of the house, we had to wait a long time for our supper.

On the following morning we resumed our journey in high spirits, from the prospect of arriving at Toulouse in the evening. We reached Agen for breakfast, which I understood to be a very fine city: I was at this place so much charmed with the manners and attentions of some young ladies at the inn, that I admit I did not depart without regret. Had I the same talents for acquiring languages, as Joseph Scaliger, who was a native of this place, possessed, I might by this time have known sufficient of the French to have benefitted by the agreeable conversation of these ladies. At six in the evening we entered Toulouse, and were set down at a miserable inn, termed the Three Mules.

While our supper was getting ready, I went, under protection of the soldier’s wife, to call upon Mrs. W⸺, a lady who had kindly offered to assist[48] in procuring me a reception, for the winter, in some respectable French family. I was fortunate enough to find her at home; when she expressed much surprise at the manner in which I had travelled so far, and informed me, that preparatory arrangements had been made for my residence in the family of Colonel du B⸺. In returning to the inn we experienced some embarrassment; for my conductress had been so long absent from her native city, that we had much difficulty, in consequence of the narrowness and intricacy of the streets, in finding our way back to the inn.

After supper I was conducted to one of the most comfortless rooms that could be imagined; every thing felt so damp, so antiquated, and dusty: some of the chairs were without legs, others without backs; and the windows were broken: but as there was no remedy, I was obliged to make the best of it, and congratulated myself on having reached my destined winter residence, and thus far, negatived the doubts, and kind apprehensions of my friends.

On the following morning, Mr. F⸺, a friend of Mrs. W⸺’s, called upon me, to state the full particulars of the arrangements for my reception into the family of Colonel du B⸺, to whom I was to be introduced on the morrow; and in the evening, this kind lady sent two gentlemen to conduct me to her residence, when I had the pleasure of being introduced to a small circle of her acquaintance.

In the morning, Mr. F⸺ called upon me, in company with Colonel du B⸺, when it was settled, that I was to become an inmate, in the family of the latter, on the following day. These gentlemen did me the favour to settle for my journey with the voiturier, and gave him a severe reprimand for his want of humanity; and I took the opportunity of convincing the soldier’s wife, who was present, of my sense of her kindness.

I now soon found myself happily situated in the house of Colonel du B⸺, with whom I proposed to remain, until the approach of spring might invite[50] me to pursue my tour, and under the expectation, in the interim, of improving my health, and acquiring a knowledge of the French language. The former point was admirably promoted by the kind attentions, and domestic arrangements, of Madame du B⸺; the latter would not fail to result from so extended a residence in a family wholly unacquainted with English, and where necessity, and the force of habit, must concur in instructing me. I cannot, however, but acknowledge the patient assistance which I received from the whole family; and my views were also promoted by a pretty regular attendance on the lectures delivered at the royal college of this place.

Our domestic circle consisted of M. and Madame du B⸺, their two sons and daughters, with the father and a sister of Madame B⸺. Madame B⸺ was what, in England, we should call a notable woman, who superintended personally the arrangements of housekeeping. The colonel possessed a mechanical taste, which with reading constituted his leading pursuit; he was a hearty feeder, with, however, a supposed indifferent appetite; for instance, he would breakfast, about noon, upon an immense quantity of bread and cold meat, hard dried sausages, or rich fromage de cochon, with a large bottle of wine, and afterward complain of a disinclination for his dinner.

[51]

But perhaps the more interesting feature of the family group, was Mademoiselle la Sœur. This lady, somewhat advanced beyond the noontide of life, was a diminutive woman, with one eye, and largely attached to the charms of tabac, which contributed to give her voice a strong nasal tone; but in addition to this penchant for snuff, she enjoyed also the pleasures of the table; was fond of high-seasoned dishes, onions, garlic, and wine; her converse was of the merry kind; she was fond of whispering into one’s private ear; and with these talents, seemed also wonderfully adapted for sociality, as she cultivated a large circle of acquaintance in the town, and made it a rule to return with a whole budget full of news for our amusement.

Toulouse, in point of extent, is considered the third town in France, but in proportion to that extent, far less populous than many other of its cities: it possesses some good public buildings, as well as modern private houses, but the general appearance is very antiquated; the streets are narrow and dirty, and what is a great annoyance in walking along them, when it rains you are almost sure to be spouted upon from the tops of the houses, in consequence of pipes sticking out to conduct the water towards the middle of the streets.

[52]

There are in this city some good squares, particularly the Place Royal, in which are situated the town-house and theatre; the Place St. George; the Place St. Stephen, containing the cathedral; and also the Place de Bourbon, which with its neighbourhood is the more eligible point for the residence of a stranger.

Some of the walks around the town are very fine, but the access to them unpleasant, in consequence of the offensive smells proceeding from the narrow streets in their vicinity; this is particularly the case as you approach the fine bridge over the Garonne.

Lodgings, such as they are, are reasonable, and the necessaries of life, of all kinds, abundant, good, and cheap. The town is supplied with water from the river; this indispensable article being carted about in casks through the streets at all hours. The stranger will also notice a number of asses, which are driven about the town, to supply invalids with their milk.

I declined participating much in the society of the place, but both the French and English residents are sociably inclined. It is not, however, the fashion among the former, to make morning visits, or give dinner parties, but their houses are open for their friends every evening, and on appointed nights they visit in large parties, and amuse themselves with conversation, singing, cards, or dancing.

[53]

A theatre was open during a part of the winter, and we had two or three public concerts, as well as a variety of private ones by amateur performers, particularly during the season of the carnival, which finished on the 14th of February, and exhibited all its usual variety of masks, grotesque characters, and buffoonery; these concerts were only given on the Sunday afternoon.

There are a few customs, and points of etiquette, which it may be interesting to notice.

When a stranger arrives at Toulouse, and wishes to enter into society, he leaves his card with the prefect, who, after returning his call, sends him invitations to the public parties, which he gives once or twice in the week, when he has the opportunity of seeing the best company of the place.

On new-years-day, it is the custom (although I believe the same is common to most parts of the continent) to call on all friends, and present the ladies with fruits, toys, trinkets, or bon-bons, under some ingenious deceptions, and which it is generally expected, will be accompanied by a salute; therefore if you have an extensive acquaintance, it is indispensable to set out, at an early hour, loaded with smiles, compliments, and presents.

I scarcely feel competent to speak of the various ceremonies of the Gallican church here, but when an Englishman dies, it is customary to send the[54] following notice, to the various residents from his country, requesting their attendance at the funeral.

There is only one burial ground for Protestants, at Toulouse, situated at some distance from the city.

Early in February, the news arrived of the death of our late venerable and beloved king; the intelligence was received by the English in this place, with every possible mark of respect, and a public mourning immediately took place.

Soon afterward, the city of Toulouse was thrown into a high state of consternation, in consequence of the assassination of the Duc de Berri; the imaginations of the inhabitants recurred to the sanguinary scenes of the French revolution, in which this town had no small share, and anticipated a return of its horrors. After this event, the following invitation was addressed to the various English residents:

[55]

This city abounds with beggars, many of them objects of real charity; as it is impossible that persons with limited incomes, can afford a sous for each, it is not unusual to give them one, and take change out of it.

The winter proved unusually severe; from the middle of November to the end of December, it continued wet; from this time to the latter part of February, it was excessively cold; and at the end of January, the ground was covered with snow for a fortnight together. For an uninterrupted week, during some part of the twenty-four hours, Fahrenheit’s thermometer stood at from[56] 9° to 11° below Zero. The Garonne for the first time for thirty years, was frozen over, the ice being found to the thickness of nine inches. The end of March, and beginning of April, however, became so fine and warm in the middle of the day, as to make walking irksome.

I now began to contemplate breaking up my winter quarters, in order to proceed to Montpellier. On inquiry, I found two modes of conveyance to this place, one by the Grand Canal de Languedoc, the other by diligence; and having made my arrangements for being conveyed by the latter, I prepared, on the 13th of April, to bid adieu to Toulouse.

I must not, however, leave this city, without paying a due tribute of respect to the worthy family with whom I have been resident, whose innumerable acts of kindness, and attention to a whimsical invalid, will ever claim his gratitude.

But let me not exclude my English friends from this expression of feeling. Mrs. W⸺ and Miss S⸺ are, in particular, entitled to my sincerest acknowledgments; and who were not only the first to receive me at Toulouse, but the last to take leave of me. They will ever retain a place in the recollections of a grateful heart.

We left Toulouse in the afternoon, and travelling during the whole night, reached Narbonne on the following day for dinner; at nine o’clock in the evening we halted for a short time at Beziers, where we were left, under cover from a heavy rain, in a kind of stable-yard, while our conducteur transacted some business in the town. After this we again proceeded throughout the night, and at day-break arrived in sight of the Mediterranean Sea, afterward reaching Montpellier about ten o’clock.

On leaving the coach, I accompanied a gentleman with whom I had been acquainted at Toulouse, and who had been a fellow-traveller on the present occasion, to his lodgings in this town; but on his arrival, he met with the following disappointment. During his absence, on legal business, he had permitted some friends to occupy his rooms, one of whom happened to die in his best chamber. Now it is customary in France, on such an occasion, to burn the bedding and other furniture, and in case of this happening in lodgings, the friends[58] of the deceased are expected to pay for them; the charge, in the present instance, was eight hundred francs, and the furniture had not been replaced; my friend, therefore, was induced to provide himself with fresh rooms: formerly this was not the only tax upon the property of a foreigner who died in France, for by the droit d’Aubaine, which has only been abolished since the return of Louis XVIII., his whole property became confiscated to the King, under the erroneous idea that it must have been acquired in his dominions.

For the first three days, I lived with this gentleman at his lodgings, having however my sleeping-room at the Hotel de Midi; after which time, I had the good fortune to place myself in the family of Madame the Countess de M⸺, who occupied a noble mansion, agreeably situated near the town, replete with every convenience, and comprising beautiful gardens, embellished with terrace walks, fountains, and a bosquet, where, to my surprise, the nightingale sang all day long. For some reason or other, Madame found it convenient to dispose of a part of her house; one portion was occupied by two French officers with their families, and another by a Russian officer. The suites of apartments were, however, perfectly distinct, and there was little intercourse between the above and her own family, which inhabited the better[59] part of the house, and consisted of herself, two daughters, and a relative, M. de C⸺.

I was exceedingly happy in this family, and with the friend who accompanied me from Toulouse, made various excursions into the surrounding neighbourhood; we particularly enjoyed the walks on the banks of the river and lake, where the air was much cooler and more agreeable, than on the road, at this time becoming dusty and troublesome. The scenery, about two or three miles from the city, is said to be romantically beautiful. On our return, we used, occasionally, to take a warm bath, which was peculiarly refreshing, and with respect to which, I noticed a luxury, which I had never before remarked,—namely, a clean sheet thrown over the surface of the bath, which you descend into, and are enveloped in.

There are also some delightful public walks about the town, as the Perût, whence is a view of the Mediterranean, and Cevennes mountains; the esplanade; and the botanic gardens. The city is also surrounded by boulevards, of which I was able to make the tour in forty minutes. The markets at Montpellier are well supplied with meats and fish of all kinds; with poultry, vegetables, and fruits in abundance. The vin ordinaire of the country, is termed vin de St. George, which is good, and full bodied, and sold from the cask[60] as low as five or six sous the full quart bottle, although, after bottling and refining, the wine merchant charges twenty sous for a small wine quart. There is, however, another sort, termed vin de Lednon, which is lighter, but highly flavoured, and consequently more estimated, selling at thirty sous the bottle. A variety of other wines may also be procured.

Montpellier has a theatre, to which it is singular that the officers in the garrison here, are obliged to subscribe, whether they attend it or not; besides the above, there are a great variety of other amusements.

Madame de M⸺, and her eldest daughter, went one evening to a ball given by general B⸺, where the young lady had the fortune to make a conquest of an officer, with whom she danced; on the following day he paid her a visit, and shortly after made his proposals in form, which were accepted; after this, according to the custom of that part of the country, he was considered as one of the family, which was an additional pleasure to me, as he was a sensible gentleman-like companion. The marriage, however, did not take place until after my departure from Montpellier.

This love affair leads me to relate an affecting, romantic, and even tragical incident, which occurred[61] in the family of Madame M⸺, during my residence with her.

Her youngest daughter, Clementine, was a lovely girl, about seventeen years of age; but, alas! it is impossible that I can do justice to charms which it was forbidden me to behold! A young gentleman one day walking accidently near the house, observed this interesting girl leading a goat, tied with a string, over a rising ground, near the bosquet; struck with her beauty and simplicity, his imagination took fire, and a passion the most ardent possessed his soul; his constant delight was to wander near the spot which contained the object of his affections, and amply was he repaid, when he could thus steal a glimpse of her beloved form. But he was soon compelled to tear himself away to prosecute his studies in Paris; her image pursued him, and dwelt incessantly within his mind; and he returned to Montpellier with unabated affection. The diffidence so characteristic of pure and ingenuous love, prevented him, for a time, from declaring his passion; at length, however, he summoned sufficient resolution to demand an interview with the countess, but as he refused to send up his name and object, she declined seeing him; in a while he repeated the call, declaring that he had something particular to communicate, but still refusing to give[62] his name; the countess consequently again refused to see him, but sent Clementine to inquire the nature of his business.

Those who know how to love, may imagine his sensations, on finding the object of his ardent passion, thus unexpectedly placed before him; his perturbation amounted to a stupid confusion; he was incapable of utterance; and the unconscious maid left him without receiving the least explanation. His only consolation was now to repeat his wanderings around her habitation. One night I was myself alarmed by the sound of footsteps under my window, and for some time laboured under the impression, that an attempt was making upon the house. It was the unfortunate lover; who frequently spent whole nights around the spot, where he first saw his adored mistress.

On the morning of the 24th of June, I was disturbed from my sleep, by the sound of many persons talking in the house and garden, in a manner which convinced me that something dreadful had occurred; I immediately hurried on my clothes, and hastened to ascertain the cause, when, on opening the door of my room, which led into the hall, Mademoiselle de M⸺ instantly advanced towards me in tears, exclaiming, in the most pitiful tone, that a gentleman had killed himself[63] in the garden, and then proceeding with the following relation: That her mother having risen early for the purpose of bathing, while the bath was in preparation, had walked into the garden in company with M. de C⸺, who was just returned from a party in the town, with whom he had been passing the preceding night; that, at this juncture, they saw through some bushes, a gentleman sitting on the grass, and whom she was on the point of approaching to accost, when he rose up, took out a large knife, and plunged it into his breast. M. de C⸺ immediately sprang across the path, exclaiming, “Mon Dieu! Mon ami, why have you done this!” The only reply from the unfortunate man was, “Clementine! Clementine!” The countess ran to procure assistance, and the whole house was soon in confusion. The most sympathizing inquiries were made into the motives for committing so rash a deed, when, exhausted with loss of blood, he exclaimed, “Ah! Clementine! for you I die! I feel you can never be mine, nor can I live without you!” He was now conveyed to a neighbouring house; a surgeon and the police officers soon arrived; the former reported, that the knife had been turned aside by a rib, but that he was in imminent danger. The police officer then proceeded in his duty, emptying his pockets, and conveying[64] their contents to the Bureau. A letter was found, directed to Madame de M⸺, with another enclosed for Clementine, and I was informed they were both written with very great propriety, and expressive of his unhappy passion.

I quitted Montpellier a week after this event, at which time, the unfortunate lover continued in a hopeless state.

Both as sources of amusement and instruction, I frequently attended the lectures on chemistry, mineralogy, and botany, at the college, and had reason to feel gratified by the general attention paid me, both by the professors and students. Montpellier appears a most desirable situation for prosecuting a course of study, as it abounds with excellent public lectures, literary societies, and good libraries. In short, it must be an agreeable winter’s residence under any circumstances,—to those who wish to be gay, it offers a continual routine of balls, plays, and other amusements, public as well as private; and the valetudinarian will find as pure air, and agreeable walks and rides, as he can desire.

The time I had allotted for my residence at this delightful place, was now drawing to a close, and having provided a fresh supply of Herries and Farquhar’s notes, from my punctual and obliging bankers in London, I prepared to proceed to Aix[65] in Provence, where I proposed to bathe for the remainder of the summer, staying a few days only at Nismes, on my way.

I shall avail myself of this opportunity of recommending to travellers the superior advantages of Herries and Farquhar’s notes, in preference to letters of credit, and which I cannot do better than state in their own words.

“The object of this plan is to supply travellers with money, whenever they may require it, without there being any necessity of determining the route beforehand. For this purpose, a correspondence is established with all the principal places of Europe. The traveller is furnished with a general letter or order, addressed to the different agents of the house, which letter, while it serves to identify him, gives a claim to any attention or good offices he may stand in need of.”

A variety of clear and explicit arrangements are made, to facilitate the immediate supplies of the traveller, whenever he may need them; and excellent precautions adopted, to prevent forgeries, impositions, and the extravagant expenses, commissions, and discounts, which attend the negotiation of bills on merchants’ houses.

A short time before my departure from Montpellier, I had the misfortune to sprain my ancle, which abridged materially my usual pleasure of walking, but did not prevent me pursuing my original intention of proceeding to Aix.

M. de C⸺ was kind enough to accompany me to the coach, and, with the best possible motives, recommended me to the care of the passengers and conducteur, but which I must admit I would rather have declined, as it disarmed me of that independence I wished to feel; I fancied it was placing me in the light of a school-boy; or perhaps of a package of “Glass.—Keep this side uppermost.” I would prefer being treated with the little ceremony of a woolpack, which by its accommodating elasticity, not only avoids injury from slighter contact, but under more decided and ruder pressure, becomes so solid, so confirmed, so compact, as effectually to oppose additional restraint, and probably at length by its innate powers, to throw off the superincumbent weight, and immediately regain its original state; in short, I find less difficulty, and inconvenience, in travelling[67] amongst strangers, than people imagine, and prefer being left to my own resources; habit has given me the power of acquiring, by a kind of undefinable tact, as correct ideas of objects as the most accurate descriptions would give; and unbiassed by the opinions of others, I feel more facility in forming my estimates of human nature.

After an unpleasant journey, owing to the heat of the weather and fulness of the coach, and passing through the neat town of Lunelle, famous for its wines, we arrived about noon at Nismes, where I took up my residence at a traiteur’s, in a particularly airy situation near the esplanade; this situation I felt of importance, as from its position on an extensive plain, this city suffers intolerably from the heats of summer.

On the following day, being Sunday, I attended divine service at one of the Protestant churches, in company with Mrs. and Miss L⸺, with whom I had previously been acquainted at Toulouse and Montpellier; we were shewn into the corporation seat, and I am afraid gave much trouble to its proper occupiers, who, with great politeness, incommoded themselves to accommodate us. We were much pleased with the discourse of the preacher, as well as the indications of devotion on the part of the congregation.

Nismes abounds with Protestants, who indeed[68] constitute a large proportion of its more industrious and opulent population; a circumstance to which the sanguinary political scenes, of which it has so frequently been the theatre, are to be attributed. The Roman religion has undoubtedly a tendency to check the energetic industry of its professors, by the encouragement which its numerous fêtes give to habits of amusement, idleness, and dissipation; and, alas! it is too correspondent with the dispositions of fallen human nature, for rapine and fraud to spring out of such vitiated soil, and avail themselves of the advantages attained by honest industry.

But far be it from me, to decry the importance of religious observances, and rational relaxation from the toils of suffering humanity; or to throw the least censure on that admirable and divine institution, which, according to our admired Spectator, rubs off the rust of the preceding week, and leads the poor man to a close acquaintance with his best friend. The institutions of catholicism, or rather papalism, are in this respect essentially contradictory to the divine command, which has solemnly declared, amidst the awful denunciations of Mount Sinai,—“Six days shalt thou labour; but the seventh day is the sabbath of the Lord thy God;” for who of its more strict professors does not pay as much religious observance[69] to the fifth day, as to the one indicated by the merciful Creator.

While at Nismes, my ancle proved extremely painful, and I felt otherwise indisposed, so as to be incapable for a time of taking my usual walks; I was, in consequence, induced to consult a French apothecary, who had talked me into a favourable opinion of his skill, by expatiating, in what I considered a philosophical way, upon the virtues of his medicines. I was, consequently, placed upon a course of ptisan refraichissant, without which French practice would be at a loss, but which, begging the pardon of this French Æsculapius, although it might do very well in mild cases, I should be loath to intrust my safety to in a desperate one, where nature might possibly want urging forward, or severe correction, rather than treating with such a complaisance; so much for my smattering of physic: but, notwithstanding, I must do my apoticaire the justice to admit, that with the aid of his ptisan, and other means, I was in a few days sufficiently improved to be able to resume, in some measure, my customary walks.

Nismes, originally the Nemausum of the Romans, is a city of considerable antiquity, of which sufficient remains are still to be found, to attest its former grandeur.

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I visited some of these august remains, particularly the celebrated amphitheatre, built in the Tuscan order, of such size as to have been capable of containing twenty thousand spectators. It is considered one of the finest monuments of antiquity, and has survived the ravages of nearly twenty centuries. I had also that exquisite piece of Corinthian architecture described to me, now termed the Maison Quarrée, which exhibits some of the most beautiful specimens of architecture still existing, and which had been supposed by many to have been built by the Emperor Hadrian, a great benefactor to this city, but by an inscription, discoverable to that effect, is now proved to have been erected by the good people of Nismes in honour of the two young princes, Caius and Lucius Cæsar, grandsons of Augustus, by his daughter Julia, the wife of Agrippa.

A number of peculiar large square basins, which the common people use to bathe in, are to be seen at Nismes, near the public walk named the Coursè; they are placed at equal distances from each other, and formed by enlargements of a canal that runs through them, the water supplying which, issues from under the rock on which the castle stands; after passing through these reservoirs, the stream is conducted, by pipes and smaller canals, throughout[71] the town, and converted to different purposes of economy and manufacture.

Anxious for the benefit I expected to derive from the waters of Aix, I hastened my departure from Nismes on the 11th of July. I had only a single companion in the diligence, an interesting young student of seventeen or eighteen years of age, on his way from college to meet some friends at Beaucaire, and as highly delighted with his emancipation from scholastic trammels, as a young midshipman at going on shore after a long cruise. At one place we took a glass of liqueur together, and on my offering to pay for it, he laughed at me, and said I was joking. At eight o’clock we reached Beaucaire, where he left me. At this place great preparations were making for the annual fair, which lasts about three weeks, and is of much importance, as merchants attend it from all parts of Europe.

We here crossed the Rhone on a bridge of boats, and proceeded through Tarrascon. At midnight we stopped for supper, when a cold chicken being produced, the conducteur contrived to dispose, with great celerity, of the larger part of it, leaving only a leg and wing for my share; after this, a most exorbitant demand was made upon me, being charged with the whole fowl, and the bottle of wine, although I had only[72] shared a couple of glasses of the latter; but following the example of my young friend the student, I joked them into reason, and offering half the money, they thought proper to be contented with it. I am convinced, from experience, that this is a better mode, than arguing a point of charge passionately with a French innkeeper; hear with patience his torrent of explanation, and then putting on your gloves coolly, reply with a smile, “I dare say you are right, my good friend, but I make it a rule never to pay so much, and cannot do it now.” Above all, take care that you do not, like Smollet, give a louis to change, and then ask them what you have to pay; first, get your change, and then only part with your gold. But the best way of all to prevent disputes, is to make a bargain beforehand.

About seven in the evening I arrived at Aix, and had the pleasure of meeting my friend Mr. W⸺, with a brother of his, lately arrived from England, and also some of my fair countrywomen, with whom I had been acquainted at Toulouse, and who had passed me at Montpellier.

Mr. W⸺ pressed me to take up my residence at Aix with himself and his brother, but I was still too anxious to pursue my studies of the French language, and character, amongst the natives, to accept of his offer; notwithstanding, it was impossible that I could have been placed more satisfactorily to my feelings; his general information and good sense, highly qualified him to impart knowledge, and his uncommon urbanity of manners, made it particularly delightful to receive it from him.

I availed myself, however, of my friend’s kindness, until I succeeded in procuring accommodations in a French family, accustomed to receive students in the law en pension. These gentlemen, however, only made their appearance at meal-times, nor did the resident family associate with[74] us according to my expectation; I felt disappointed, and after staying ten days determined to change my quarters.

It was not easy to find a family like that of the Countess de M⸺, at Montpellier, particularly at this season, when every one who could afford to support the smallest establishment in the country, was, on account of the excessive heat, gone out of town. At length I fixed myself with Madame R⸺, the widow of an officer of dragoons, with three children, the eldest a girl of fourteen. A rich old gentleman, her cousin, M. B⸺, also resided with her, and they kept, in conjunction, two carriages and three horses, and occupied three different country houses.

I had the pleasure, one day, of accompanying Madame R⸺ on horseback, to visit one of her country seats, and was not a little surprised to find that she rode after the manner of gentlemen, with a horse-cloth doubled under her, instead of a saddle. It is, however, seldom that ladies in France ride on horseback, and they were not a little astonished, after the peace, to see our fair countrywomen riding in their usual manner with side-saddles, an accommodation they were not familiar with. I must acknowledge, I should not have liked exhibiting in the same way in Hyde Park; we did not, however, pass through the town[75] in this manner, for our horses were led out of it before we mounted, and on our return, we dismounted before re-entering it.

A few days after my arrival, I commenced using the mineral baths of Aix, which I persevered in during my residence, and I think with much advantage, although I could not bear drinking the waters, which I fancied to be of a chalybeate nature; I endeavoured, but in vain, to get a correct analysis of them; the resident physician, appointed by government, either could not, or would not inform me; he referred me to a large octavo volume, sold at the baths, but I found it contain nothing except eulogies on their virtues, in almost every disease to which the human body is incidental. The temperature of the water is about 97° Fahrenheit.

The baths are situated in the Fauxbourg, or higher part of the town; the best situation for the invalid who wishes to take advantage of them, is near the Hotel de Prince, on the Coursé, which is the pleasantest part of the town.

The Coursé, is a double walk, with rows of lime-trees on both sides, and a carriage road between them; these walks form the fashionable promenade of the place on a summer’s evening. There are also good boulevards; Aix upon the whole, however, is defective in public walks, and the[76] streets are narrow and very dirty. It is far from being an agreeable residence in summer, as the town is empty and dull; and in winter it is cold, in consequence of its situation on an extensive plain, exposed to the vents de bise from the neighbouring mountains.

There is a line cathedral at Aix, one of the doors of which is considered an exquisite piece of workmanship; in consequence, it is preserved in a case, and a particular application required to get admitted to a sight of it. I attended the service of the cathedral one fête day, and heard some very fine vocal and instrumental music.

The college here is as famous for law, as that of Montpellier for physic; and there is a public library which contains some English books, presented by one of our countrymen. The town also possesses a museum of natural history, and some good private collections of paintings.

My intercourse was chiefly confined to the family with which I resided, and a few English friends; I am, therefore, unable to say much respecting the social habits of the place, but understood that it was by no means defective in these respects; although there are no public amusements during the summer, the winter brings with it theatrical, and other entertainments.

Provisions are abundant and cheap, and the[77] bread is so excellent as to be sent in large quantities to other places.

I was anxious to visit the celebrated city of Marseilles, distant only fifteen miles, and proceeded with Mr. H. W⸺, and another gentleman, to put this design in execution; on our arrival we placed ourselves at the Hotel des Ambassador, in the Rue Beauveau, near the Place Moliere, where the theatre stands.

The commerce of this great mercantile city was at this time much depressed, owing to the heavy duties imposed upon goods imported by American vessels; which however they managed to evade, in some degree, by unshipping their cargoes at Nice, or Genoa, into French coasters.

We visited the coral manufactory; the corals used in which, are said to be very fine, and brought by the fishermen direct from the coast of Barbary; I should have been glad to have purchased some, but was apprehensive of imposition, and, moreover, found that I could not take them into Italy, and elsewhere, without paying very heavy duties, or incurring great risk of seizure.

It is customary at Marseilles, for the inhabitants in great numbers, to go to the outsides of the harbour early in the morning to bathe, for which purpose the females take the left hand, and the men the right. We were induced to follow this[78] good example, and found the bathing delightful; we were carried by boats into about five feet water, with a fine sandy bottom, and steps were then thrown out to enable us conveniently to get into the water, and out again; but I preferred throwing myself from off the gunwale and diving for some yards, after which, I swam out to sea, to the astonishment of my friends and the surrounding strangers, who were rendered sensible of my loss of sight, by my occasionally calling out to ascertain the direction of the boat.

On the eve of our return to Aix, Mr. H. W⸺, a spirited young naval officer, determined to repeat his bathing in the close of the evening, and notwithstanding our solicitations to the contrary, insisted upon going alone, although quite unacquainted with the French language. His impetuosity led him into an adventure, which might have terminated in fatal results, and, at all events, compelled us to hasten our departure, under circumstances in some degree equivocal. On quitting his boat, he offered the man who belonged to it, the same remuneration he had on former occasions paid, which however was refused; my friend walked off, and the man followed him, talking loudly in an unintelligible manner; at length he laid hold of him by the skirt of his coat, when W⸺, turning round, knocked him down; a mob[79] soon collected, who taking the boatman’s part, proceeded to beat our young friend most unmercifully, and probably would have murdered him, had not some gentlemen interfered and extricated him; one of these had the kindness to accompany him home, and requested we would not venture into the streets, until the affair had been arranged with the police, to whom he offered to accompany us on the following morning. We acknowledged his kindness, but concealed our intention of quitting Marseilles at five o’clock in the morning; in short, we thought it better to avail ourselves of this chance of getting rid of the affair, not however, without some apprehension of being pursued.

In fact, in two or three days after our return to Aix, it was announced, that a person from Marseilles was enquiring for two gentlemen who had lately been at the Hotel des Ambassador, in that place; we immediately pictured to our imaginations, a police officer, with a warrant in his hand, but it proved to be one of the waiters, who had called to apprise us of a mistake of six francs, against us, in making out our bill, which we paid with much satisfaction, as flattering ourselves that we had now fully outwitted the police.

The month of September having considerably advanced, and the weather becoming sensibly[80] colder, I began to think of suspending the use of the hot baths, and removing to a milder climate. I had the pleasure, however, of thinking my health materially improved, my eyes in particular felt lighter, and I fancied that I could occasionally discern a flash of light from the under part of the left one. I selected Nice for my winter’s residence, and on the 14th of September left Aix in the diligence, for Antibes, taking leave of the last town in France, where I proposed making any extended residence.

It is not easy to describe my emotions in quitting a people, with whose language and habits I was now becoming well acquainted, and to whom I felt a degree of attachment, grounded, if not upon congeniality of sentiment, at least upon a grateful sense of repeated acts of kindness, and attention, which I had experienced from them.

It is true, that I was fully alive to all the anticipated enjoyments of a land of promise; the favoured Italy, highly gifted by nature and art; the cradle of genius; the birth-place of poets, orators, and warriors; and once the sole arbitress of the fate of the world.

I sought consolation in reflections of this nature, and in repeating the lines of a favourite poet.

On leaving Aix, our coach, besides myself, contained two gentlemen, sons of General M⸺, who had been residing for eight years at a college near Toulouse. We breakfasted at Luc, where we took up two or three more passengers; from hence we passed on to Frejus, and thence over the Estralès, formerly noted for numerous banditti. At Cannes General M⸺ came out with his daughter, in his carriage, to meet his sons, whom we here parted from. The remaining passengers also quitted us about this time, so that before we entered Antibes I had the whole carriage to myself.

At Antibes I got my passport signed, to enable me to enter his Sardinian majesty’s dominions; but this gave little trouble, as a person negotiated the affair for the remuneration of one franc.

I remained at the inn where the diligence put up, in consequence of finding that the one for Nice set off from it on the following morning. I got my supper at the table d’hôte, in company[82] with two or three officers; the fare was very indifferent, and the charge exorbitant, in consequence of not having made my bargain beforehand.

After supper I retired early to bed, in hopes of compensating for my loss of sleep on the preceding night in the coach; but, alas! I reckoned without my host, for it proved a night of misery; a multitude of mosquitoes tormented me without intermission, and with joy did I welcome the arrival of the moment, which announced that the diligence was preparing to depart.

At four o’clock we left the inn, but the town-gates were yet closed, and some time elapsed before they were opened to us; at length an officer came and accomplished this with military ceremony; but we were still unable to proceed, for a whole drove of asses and mules, laden with fruits, vegetables, &c. had stationed themselves in the pass on the other side, and began to enter amidst the smacking of whips, and hallooing of muleteers; this occupied at least ten minutes.

Shortly afterward we took up a man who had fought in the battle of Trafalgar, but was now a traiteur at Nice, and had been into the country to purchase grapes, in order to manufacture his own wine: he seemed pleased on discovering that I had served in the British navy, of which he spoke very highly.

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We now arrived on the banks of the Var, which separates the kingdoms of France and Sardinia, and, with little interruption from the custom-house officers, immediately crossed the frontiers.

We here received the addition to our party, of two very genteel ladies and a gentleman, who proved for the remainder of the journey, most agreeable companions; I was so much interested in their conversation, that, almost without being sensible of the progress, we arrived at the Hotel des Etranger, at Nice.

I am unwilling, finally, to take my leave of France, without expressing an opinion of the character of a people, with whom I had been so long resident; the unfavourable circumstances, however, under which only I could contemplate them, make me diffident in advancing my opinion, as I am fully conscious of an inability to give the picture that energy and justice of colouring which it requires. I shall, therefore, confine myself to a few general remarks.

There is something highly fascinating in the exterior, manners, and converse of a Frenchman; courteous in his behaviour, he evinces a strong desire to please and be pleased; but although he manifests the speciousness of ardent friendship, his heart is not the soil, in which this quality is capable of taking a firm and unshaken root; as[84] soon as the source, from which it has emanated, and been supported, ceases to be present, the previous impressions disappear, and a void is offered for the reception of new ones, equally vivid, but equally superficial.

This mixture of susceptibility and indifference makes the Frenchman a gay and pleasing, but, at the same time, an uncertain companion; he does not, like the Englishman, dwell on the enjoyments of the past, and entangle his mind with useless and prolonged regrets, but is ever ready to enliven new scenes of social intercourse; in short, he can ill sustain a state of tristesse, which he considers all his reflecting moments, and whether thrown into contact with his countrymen, or strangers, is a sensualist in his social feelings, and must seek for pleasure and amusement, for in this “he lives and has his being,” and that man is his dearest friend, who most contributes to his gratification.

With respect to the fair sex, they are generally lively and fascinating, and possessed of susceptible feelings, capable of being converted into strong attachments. These are some of the essential requisites for forming an amiable, and virtuous character; but, alas! the good is perverted by the influence of an injudicious and trifling system of education, extended at most to superficial[85] literary acquisitions, which barely serve for the dictation of an ungrammatical billetdoux, or the copying of a song. The most devoted attention is given to the art of pleasing, and the study of dress, which, with the auxiliaries of music and embroidery, form the leading occupations of young French females.

In conversation they are acute, playful, and frequently sensible, but it cannot be wondered at, when the defects of education are taken into account, that there should be little which sinks deep into the heart, and leaves an impression, or promise, of future matron-like virtue.

Many ladies, however, are educated in convents, where they acquire a temporary spirit of bigotry, which wears off after they return into the world, and frequently leaves behind it a proportionate want of religious feeling.

They, generally, marry young enough to enable a judicious husband to form a character if defective, or to correct it if deformed; but here they are truly to be pitied; for they soon experience a culpable neglect from those men who ought to be their inseparable protectors and advisers, and who, preferring the society of others, leave them incautiously to their own pursuits and feelings. Is it to be wondered at that they should cease to cultivate the domestic virtues?

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To conclude; the French female contains within her those principles, which, under proper cultivation, would produce excellent wives, and estimable women; and it is a serious reflection upon the national character, that such principles should be sacrificed by the indifference, and neglect of those whose duty, as well as interest it is, to elicit and establish her virtues.

My first object, on arriving at Nice, was to ascertain whether Mr. L⸺, lately one of my acquaintance at Aix, was yet at Nice, where he had been for a time residing, and of which I was doubtful, as I knew that he was about this time intending to proceed farther into Italy. I had been apprised that I should hear of him at the house of Madame M⸺ at St. Rosalie, about a mile and a half distant from the town; and, as I was aware that he had paved the way to an introduction for me to this lady, I procured a valet-de-place to conduct me thither. I had the happiness to find him still in the neighbourhood, residing at a very short distance from Madame M⸺, although on the point of proceeding on his proposed tour.

Through his recommendation, I was immediately received as an inmate in the family of Madame M⸺, consisting of herself, two daughters, and a young English lady, Miss T⸺.

The mansion of this lady was an attachment to the adjoining church of St. Rosalie, now fallen into disuse, except as a family storeroom; the bells, and other ecclesiastical articles, had been presented[88] by Madame, to the neighbouring church of Cimea, formerly a Roman settlement, with still some interesting remains of an amphitheatre, baths, aqueduct, and a temple of Apollo; and amongst which, ancient coins are still occasionally discovered.

The domain of St. Rosalie is delightfully situated, and furnished with shady walks, which offer a cool retreat amidst the severest heats of summer: there was one formed of trellis-work, over-shadowed with the vine, which was peculiarly grateful; here we frequently walked during the heats of the day, or amused ourselves with the pleasures of reading; to gratify my inclination for which my amiable companion Miss T⸺ would kindly devote many hours of the day to the perusal of such authors as most interested me; indeed I can never express sufficient gratitude for the many sacrifices she made for my accommodation and amusement.

We here proposed to continue, until the nearer approach of winter, would make a town-residence more agreeable. Our time passed away in the most happy manner; Madame was busily occupied by the vintage, and in laying up a stock of fruits, preserves, &c. in which the young ladies occasionally assisted; nor could I remain an idle personage, and I proved myself far more dexterous[89] in cutting down the bunches of grapes, than my companions were willing to have given me credit for. It was necessary that as little time as possible, should be lost in this operation, as exposure to wet, during the gathering of the grapes, injures the flavour of the wine: we succeeded in completing our task in two days.

The process of making the wine is as follows:—The grapes being selected and picked, are put into a large vat, where they are well trodden down by the naked feet; after which, the liquor is drawn off from below; the bruised grapes are then put into a press, and the remaining liquor extracted. The whole of the juice is now transferred into casks with their bungs open, and allowed to ferment, and discharge its impurities for twelve, fifteen, or twenty days, according to the strength of the grape; the waste occasioned by the discharge being constantly supplied with fresh liquor. The casks are then carefully closed, and in about a month the wine is considered fit for drinking.

When the grapes are of a bad, meagre kind, the wine-dealers mix the juice with quicklime, in order to give it a spirit which nature has denied, or, possibly, to take off acidity.

About this time, Dr. Skirving, an English physician, whom I had the pleasure of knowing in Edinburgh, and an intimate acquaintance of Madame[90] M⸺, arrived with a view of establishing himself in practice at Nice. He had originally become known at this place, in consequence of having been detained in it by the illness of a friend, who in an intended voyage from Civita Vecchia to Marseilles, ruptured a blood-vessel on his lungs, by the exertions of sea-sickness, and was compelled to make this port, where, after lingering some months, he died. Pleased with the situation, and at the solicitations of his friends, he determined to make Nice his permanent residence, and having arranged his affairs in England, was now arrived to carry the plan into execution.

With a cultivated and liberal mind, Dr. S⸺ is possessed of superior professional abilities; I had the pleasure of witnessing an interesting recovery, under his care, in the person of a lady who had an abscess on her lungs. At one time she was considered so near dissolution, that some of her friends were importunate to have the last consolations of religion administered to her; but my friend, aware of the danger of agitating her mind at this critical moment, entreated that the measure might be deferred, and she was afterward restored to comparative good health. If any apology is necessary for this digression, it must be placed to the score of the warmest friendship; indeed, I should feel myself ungrateful, did[91] I neglect to acknowledge this gentleman’s undeviating kindness to myself.

The 15th of October now arrived, which, being St. Therese’s day, was the fête of Madame M⸺, as well as the anniversary of my birth. The former circumstance it may be necessary to explain. It is customary in this country to name children after some favourite saint, to whose especial protection they may thus be supposed to be committed; and hence, when the annual fête of their patron arrives, it is made a day of congratulation to themselves.

When it happens to be the fête of the father, or mother of a family, their children prepare a nosegay, and bring it to them the first thing in the morning, presenting it with some pretty and appropriate address; after which, the day is spent in innocent pastime and amusement. But the above tokens of respect are not confined to the children; the friends, and dependants, also participate in offering them. In the present instance, I prepared my nosegay, and offered it to my fair hostess with undefinable sensations of pleasure, and of course did not allow so favourable an opportunity to pass, without adding that well-merited compliment, which politeness, and gratitude for her attentions prompted. Now Madame was a pretty little sensible woman, who knew how to[92] receive a compliment from a gentleman, in a graceful and agreeable manner; and, I really cannot wonder that the priests should appoint so many fêtes, if they are to be attended with such agreeable circumstances to them, as I experienced on this occasion.

Soon after this, the peasantry employed on Madame M⸺’s estate, came with their nosegays, accompanied by presents of fruit, and were regaled with breakfast; the day unfortunately proved rainy, or we should have enjoyed a dance on the green. We had afterward a party to dinner; and the evening concluded with singing, and other amusements. On Madame M⸺’s brother being requested to sing he favoured us with the following, first drawing his chair close to that of Miss T⸺, to whom he appeared to address the sentiment.

The air becoming sensibly cooler, it was determined to remove to our winter-quarters in Nice, leaving St. Rosalie to its peasantry, now about to commence getting in the olives, and express the oil, which is the richest part of their harvest. The best olives are those which grow wild, but the quantity of these is inconsiderable; they begin to collect them in the early part of November, and this is repeated at intervals until March or April; the fruit is beaten off the trees with long canes as it ripens, which is known by its turning from a light green to a very dark colour. The oil must be[94] expressed immediately, and before the olives fade or grow wrinkled, otherwise it will not be good. The whole are, in the first instance, ground into paste by a millstone, set edgeways in a circular stone trough, and turned by a mule or the power of water; this paste is then put into cases, made of the same kind of grass which is so much used in the Mediterranean for the manufacture of ropes and cables; six or eight of which are piled one over the other, and then subjected to a powerful press for a few minutes, by which the oil is forced out, and received into a stone reservoir placed beneath it. While the oil is passing from the press, hot water is frequently dashed over it, to make it flow the better. The whole fluid is now transferred into a wooden vat, half filled with water, in which the dregs fall to the bottom, while the supernatant oil is skimmed off, and stored up in small oblong casks.

The remnant is now thrown into a large stone cistern containing water, and allowed to continue there twelve or fourteen days, frequently stirring it during that time; a coarser oil is then taken from its surface, which serves for the purpose of burning in lamps, or in manufactories. After these processes, they separate an oil still more coarse and fetid, and occasionally grind the paste down with hot water, which extracts a yet greater quantity of oily matter, but which in this case soon grows rancid.

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The dregs which remain after these operations, when dried, are used as a fuel; particularly for warming, by means of brasieres, apartments without chimneys.

There is, however, a very peculiarly fine preparation, called virgin oil, and which is a great delicacy, eating like the sweetest butter; this is made from green olives, and sold at a high price, as a great quantity of the fruit yields but little oil.

The summer fruits, as grapes, figs, peaches, &c. were now over, but we had great stores preserved for the winter’s use. There were, however, neither oranges nor lemons this season, the unusually severe frost of the preceding winter having killed all the trees: throughout France, and about Genoa, most of the olive-trees also perished; but at Nice they were more fortunate.

It may be interesting, to advert to the mode of life of the peasantry of this district, and the nature of the tenure by which they hold their land, as well as the manner of cultivating it.

The Nicean peasant is frugal and industrious, he takes no regular meal, not even a breakfast, until after the conclusion of the labours of the day, contenting himself with an occasional refreshment of bread, wine, and fruit; at night he makes amends for this abstinence, but even now rarely partakes of animal food, his favourite and indispensable[96] fare being soup, prepared with macaroni and vegetables, and mixed up with a large quantity of oil.

The land around the city is divided into small parcels or farms, seldom consisting of more than twelve or fourteen acres each, and which are principally covered with vines, olives, and fruit-trees, the intermediate spaces being filled up with abundance of vegetables, and small quantities of grain, the chief supply of this important article being derived from different parts of the Mediterranean.

The proprietor retains the actual possession of the farm, but the fermier cultivates it, collects its produce, and carries it to market; he is bound also to plant, every year, a stipulated number of vines, from three to six hundred, according to the size of the farm; and at his sole expense to repair the walls and fences. The proprietor provides him a house, pays the contribution foncier, and incurs half the expense of manure, and of the animals necessary for carrying on the various operations of the concern. The proprietor and fermier then share the produce in equal proportions, except as relates to the olives, of which the former takes three-fifths.

The ground is entirely cultivated by a kind of hoe, termed piochê; the valuable instrument, the plough, being unknown in the whole country;[97] nor do they here seem acquainted with the use of carts, as even the manure is conveyed in baskets, or barrels, on the backs of mules.

We now took leave of St. Rosalie; nor could I, without the highest regret, tear myself away from its rural charms, not least amongst which was the vine covered alley, “impervious to the noontide ray,” which had so often offered us delightful shade, and refreshment, during the most intense atmospheric heats; and where so many happy moments had glided away in interesting conversation, and the rational amusement of reading, frequently enlivened by the vocal powers of Madame M⸺ and her youngest daughter.

I thought I could have reposed for ever in this semblance of an earthly paradise; and yet there was something which, in my situation, I felt still wanting to make me completely blest.

We took up our residence at Nice, on the 17th of October in the house of M. Audoli, situated in the suburb called St. John the Baptist: opposite to us, a plank lay across the Paglion, which, when the water was low afforded a ready access to the town; the bridge leading into it, being situated at a considerable distance higher up.

Nice is far from being a large city, as I was able to make the tour of its ramparts in twenty minutes; nor is it an interesting one; the streets are narrow, and mostly on a level, with the exception of one or two which lead to a part of the town situated in a hollow, and which have a step every two or three yards to break the declivity.

In many streets you are annoyed by the thumping of machinery, employed in the manufacture of macaroni, and which is required to force it into its tubular form. The following is the process for manufacturing the ordinary kind of macaroni or vermicelli: Equal parts of fine and coarse flour are mixed together, and made into a paste with water, to which a small quantity of saffron has[99] been added to give it a yellow tinge. The whole is then kneaded into a stiff paste, by means of a beam of wood, which is worked by two or three men on the principle of the lever; after which it is put into a strong cylinder of copper, with perforations in its bottom, of such size as may be necessary to give the form of macaroni or vermicelli, which ever may be intended. It is then forced through these apertures into its tubular shape by a powerful screw, and cut of proper lengths as it comes out, after which it is hung up in the air to harden.

One street, termed Rue de Juif, is exclusively appropriated to the Jews, who are not allowed to reside in any other part of the town.

The places, St. Dominico and Victoire, are respectable squares: the York hotel is situated in the former, which affords visitors superior, and at the same time equally reasonable, accommodation, with the Hotel des Etranger.

The most general residence for strangers, however, is beyond the suburb of St. John the Baptist, at a part termed the Croix de Marbre, where a number of houses, superior, in point of comfort, to the residence of the natives, are kept for the purpose of accommodating them: houses may, however, also be procured on the Cimea Hill, near the Port, in the Places, and by the Terrace, as[100] well as in other parts of the town. The prices are variable, according to the season, situations, and demand for them; and what you pay will be materially influenced by your skill in bargaining: the prudent plan is to offer only half what they ask, and from thence ascend, as they descend, until both agree, or you are satisfied that you have proposed a fair price; and then if you stick to your point, they will most probably accede to it. This is a better way of arranging the business, than through the medium of your banker, who will probably offer his services as an agent.

Nice has excellent markets, well supplied with provisions of all kinds, at reasonable prices: viz. beef, five sous per pound; mutton, six sous; veal and lamb, seven sous; but the pound consists only of twelve ounces, and not, as in France, of from sixteen to twenty-two. The price of butchers’ meat is fixed by the magistracy, and therefore invariable, whereas that of poultry and butter fluctuates, these articles being brought from the plains of Piedmont over the Col de Tende, at times impassable; which circumstance of course enhances the value. Game is scarce, and nearly as dear as in England; six francs being given for a brace of woodcocks: hares, however, are more moderate in proportion. Fish is plentiful, when the weather is favourable, and sells from six to sixteen sous per[101] pound. Vegetables and fruits are grown abundantly in the environs.

Nice produces very fair wines, both red and white; but the most valuable kind is that named Billit.

The accommodations for bathing are indifferent; the beach is rough and stony, and there are no machines. On summer evenings, after it is dark, the females take possession of the beach, on one side of the entrance of the harbour, and there bathe, while the men go to a distant point.

There are, however, two sets of warm baths in the town, the one constructed of marble, the other with copper; the former, situated near the Place St. Dominico, are long, narrow, and shallow; when in them, you only want a cover to make a good coffin—the latter, on the contrary, situated on the ramparts between the bridge and the Place Victoire, are so short and deep, that although you cannot lie down in them, you may sit, and have the water up to your chin; in fact they form excellent boilers, which would serve to stew you down, if required.

Among the many beautiful walks about Nice, the Terrace ranks foremost; it is crowded on a summer’s evening, but during the winter is delightful throughout the whole day, particularly on a Sunday afternoon, when a military band[102] occasionally attends for an hour or two. The walks to the Port, and around the ramparts, are also very agreeable.

In the environs of the town, a great deal of beautiful scenery will be found, embellished with aqueducts, temples, and other Roman remains, particularly in the direction of the Cimea road; and that leading to Genoa, from which there is a most commanding view of the sea, Nice, and its neighbourhood, with the Paglion flowing in the valley beneath, the Turin road lying by the side of it, over which, on the opposite side of the river, stands the Cimea Hill.

Only three good carriage roads will be found at Nice, one leading to the Var, another to Turin, and the third to Genoa; there is also one to Villa Franca, but so steep, that many do not like to venture up it; the preferable way of visiting this latter place, is to row there in a boat or felucca, and return on foot.

Villa Franca is a small, but strongly fortified town, distant about two miles from Nice, built at the extremity of a fine harbour, in a situation admirably adapted for the site of a more important place. It consists of very indifferent buildings, and its streets are narrow, and wretchedly paved.

Nice and its environs do not offer a very extensive field to the naturalist. The surrounding[103] mountains are, however, covered with a great variety of plants during the whole year; and, of course, the botanist will find ample amusement. The mineralogy of the neighbourhood is but limited, the whole of the hills around the city consisting chiefly of limestone, with some few beds of gypsum. In the beds of the mountain torrents, portions are occasionally found of granite, gneiss, clay-slate, flinty-slate, serpentine and feltspar; but these specimens so small and so much weathered, that it is often difficult to distinguish them.

The geology of Nice is more interesting; the calcareous rocks afford many specimens of what the French call the breche osseuse, in which small fragments of bones are cemented together by argillaceous matter, which has acquired a reddish colour from the presence of iron. Near Villa Franca some of the limestone contains a great number of shells, the species of many of which still exist in the Mediterranean. The rising grounds near the Var are wholly formed of a coarse breccia, the cement of which is argillaceous, impregnated with iron; extensive excavations have here been made to procure clay for the manufacture of tiles, in which great numbers of shells are found imbedded, with occasional vegetable remains.

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I believe the sea-shore produces a number of shells which would be interesting to the conchologist.

I shall now make some remarks respecting the state of society at Nice. There were English residents enough to form sufficiently large circles amongst themselves, besides numerous others who visited the place, en passant, to and from Italy. A few German, and Russian, families were also spending their winter here, who associated largely with the English. These visited each other, and gave dinner, and evening parties, and balls occasionally. The natives, however, were not excluded from this society, although the incomes of few would permit their returning the invitation in equal stile. The hospitality, however, of the governor, made amends for the deficiency. This officer, only gave dinner parties to the gentlemen; but had balls for the ladies once a week during the Carnival; and evening parties, in the same way, throughout the remainder of the winter, paying both by himself, and his aid-de-camps, the greatest possible attention to his visitors. He had, however, no regular government-house, and the one which he occupied was scarcely large enough for the accommodation of his numerous guests. The only ceremony necessary to enable a stranger to receive his attentions, was to leave[105] his card, which the governor always acknowledged in person.

The nobility of Nice, never think of visiting their countrymen who have not titles, notwithstanding many of them are people of great respectability, as professional men, merchants, &c.; at the same time, they have no objection to meet them at the houses of strangers. It might have been conceived that the experience of the French revolution would have taught them differently; besides, it is a matter of no difficulty to procure a title, for I am informed that it only costs sixty louis to purchase that of a count, and twenty-five to become a baron. But let me not be mistaken for a leveller of distinctions, no one has a greater respect for the Patrician order than myself, when its dignities have been the meed of talent or of virtue.

It is, contemptible, however, to witness the pride of upstart gentility, with nothing but the mere garnish of wealth to adorn it.

But possibly I may have been led by the force of circumstances to contemplate the present subject in too strong a light; for alas! I have long been incapable of being deceived by the outward appearance of things, and habituated to estimate[106] men by their manners, and conversation, rather than their external and visible signs.

I was much surprised one day by a visit from a particular friend, Mrs. R⸺, lately arrived from Paris, whom I had not seen for the last seven years, and supposed to be in the West Indies. This lady did me the favour to introduce me to Mr. and Mrs. K⸺, the friends whom she had accompanied from Paris. Soon after I had the pleasure of becoming acquainted with General B⸺, Mrs. A⸺, and a number of other English residents, whose names it would be tiresome to the reader to enumerate, from whom I afterwards received a series of kind and friendly attentions, for which I feel greatly indebted to them. I cannot, however, avoid particularizing Mr. and Mrs. S⸺, whose permission to make use of their valuable collection of books, proved a source of the highest satisfaction to me.

A very pretty, but small theatre, has been erected at Nice, which was not opened for dramatic representations during my residence there. It was, however, made use of for two grand balls, given by a select party of the nobles and gentlemen of Nice, to the stranger residents; we were also entertained with a public concert in it; we had, besides this, several private amateur concerts, in a large room[107] appropriated for such occasions, and supported by subscription, each subscriber being allowed to introduce a certain number of persons.

Before giving a dance at a private house, it is necessary, unless you intend to break up by ten o’clock, to ask permission of the police, who charge six francs for their licence, and then a soldier is placed at the door of the house.

I accompanied a party of ladies, one Sunday, to the cathedral, to hear an eminent French preacher, which is an unusual occurrence here, for they generally preach either in Italian, or the patois of the country, which is the most harsh and barbarous dialect I ever heard, worse than the patois of Provence, which is bad enough, although somewhat similar. It is however, the common language of the natives when conversing together, notwithstanding most of the respectable inhabitants speak both French and Italian.

I shall now notice various natural and meteorological occurrences which took place during my residence in this city.

On the 3rd of January, the waters of the Paglion came down with so much force, as to carry away the embankment, raised for the protection of the workmen employed at the foundation of a new bridge, just commenced over the river, and which was expected to require two years to complete.

On the evening of the 6th of February, the shock[108] of an earthquake was sensibly perceived in some parts of the town, more particularly on the side of the Turin gate; and on the 8th, the wind suddenly rose to a violent gale, which lasted three or four hours; at the commencement of which, Reaumur’s thermometer suddenly rose from 3° to 10°. An American vessel which had left the port the day before, for Marseilles, was upset during this gale, off Cannes, but the crew were fortunately saved.

The coldest day experienced during the season, was on the 20th of February, but even then, the lowest point at which Reaumur’s thermometer was noticed, was 1° above freezing point, or equal to 34¼° of Fahrenheit.

The following is a register of the temperature of the atmosphere, noted by Dr. S⸺, three times each day, during the first week of January.

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With respect to the climate of Nice, if I might be allowed, after five months’ residence, to hazard an opinion, I conceive it the most delightful one in Europe, and, indeed, preferable to any I have yet experienced, unless the Bermuda islands are excepted. Some object to the heat during summer, but it is possible to avoid the inconvenience, by retiring for this season, amongst the mountains. At a small town, named Rochabiliare, twenty-five miles inland, are mineral springs, containing nitre and sulphur, and of different temperatures, the highest being 100° Fahrenheit. I endeavoured, but in vain, to procure a correct analysis of these waters.

My friends at Nice, with the exception of Dr. S⸺, thought me insane, when, on the approach of spring, I declared my intention of proceeding southward, to make the tour of Italy, as the whole of the country was in an agitated state, in consequence of the advance of the Austrians upon Naples, hostilities having actually commenced on the frontiers. In addition, the Milanese and Piedmont were supposed to be highly discontented, and an insurrection was anticipated throughout the whole of Italy; but when my resolution is fixed, I do not allow myself to be deterred by the anticipation, or dread of difficulties; in the event of the fears of my friends being realized, I was[110] disposed to think I should have an equal, or better chance of getting safely away from Florence, than from Nice; for instance, I could, in a few hours reach Leghorn, at which place there would be every probability of my being able to embark on board an English vessel, or of getting to the neighbouring island where Lord Byron desires Bonaparte to hasten, concluding his verse with a just compliment to his own country.

On the contrary, in the event of a revolution at Nice, there would be little chance of getting away, by sea or land. My ideas, in this respect, were in some degree realized; a revolution did take place there, and for three days the greatest consternation prevailed, as there was an embargo laid upon all horses at Nice, in order to facilitate the movements of the king and his government; and at the same time not an English vessel off the port.

On arriving at Florence, it was my intention to regulate my future movements according to circumstances, and the alternatives of these it was not difficult to foresee. In the event of the Austrians being successful in the first instance, the[111] war was certain to be of short duration; whereas, on the other hand, if the Neapolitans proved able to support the onset, there was little doubt but that the whole of Italy would be in arms, to assert its independence, and to compel a free constitution from its rulers.

Influenced by these considerations, I determined to proceed, nor have I found any reason to regret the decision.

On the 26th of February, 1821, I left Nice in the Divine Providence felucca, of eleven tons, bound to Genoa, with a freight of passengers only, not having been able to procure a cargo.

Some time elapsed, after getting on board, before I felt able to inquire into the persons, or characters of my fellow-passengers; my mind was too deeply absorbed in the painful emotions, occasioned by taking leave of a family with whom I had so long and happily resided, and for whom I must ever entertain an affectionate regard. In time, however, I found that, besides myself, our vessel contained three English gentlemen, who, indeed, had taken their passage at my suggestion, instead of pursuing their journey to Genoa, over land, with mules, as they had intended. It was, however, their third attempt to get farther into Italy by sea. They had first endeavoured to reach Leghorn in an American vessel, which, on some account or other, put back to Villa Franca: after this they sailed for Civita Vecchia, but a contrary wind, and roughish sea arising, after they had left port a few hours, the master of the vessel became[113] frightened, and notwithstanding, every argument to induce him to persevere, returned to port. In order to make progress, it is preferable to coast it in small vessels, rather than trust to the open sea in larger traders, for they never keep out in bad weather, if it is possible to reach a port.

Besides these gentlemen, our party consisted of three Frenchmen, and two ladies, one French, and the other an Italian.

After leaving the harbour, the wind was light and variable, and the water smooth, so that by dint of rowing and sailing, we proceeded at the rate of three miles an hour. On arriving off the town, and principality of Monaco, we stood towards the shore, and took on board three sailors, belonging to a Sardinian frigate, lying at Genoa, who had been visiting their friends at Monaco, and agreed to work their passage back to the former place.

At sunset, the captain provided each of us with a straw mattress for our repose; my companions, accordingly, laid themselves down for the night on the floor of the cabin, but I placed mine in preference, on the bench upon which I had been sitting.

We glided on smoothly until midnight, when the wind changed to the eastward, accompanied by small rain. The master expecting bad weather,[114] now bore up for a small port called Cerf, where we anchored about three o’clock in the morning; at seven, we landed at the town of Cerf, situated on the side of so steep a hill, that the streets consist of continued flights of steps. We were conducted to a small auberge, the best however in the place, where we got some hot water, and refreshed ourselves, after our miserable night, with tea, cold meat, &c. of which we had been cautious to lay in good stores before leaving Nice. The care of my friends had supplied myself with no less than a couple of large tongues, a dozen loaves, smoked herrings, coffee, sugar, wines, &c. I name these particulars, because their kind consideration, in the sequel, proved important to me.

After breakfast, the whole of our party, except the Italian lady and myself, set off on mules for Genoa, we having determined to remain in hopes of the wind shortly becoming favourable, in which case, we doubted not, by pursuing our original plan, still to reach Genoa before them, and avoid a difficult and expensive journey by land.

To amuse myself in the interim, I visited the church, and also a miserable auberge, where our captain took me. We here found a number of low-lived fellows, some playing at cards, and others smoking, drinking, and quarrelling. On my return to the auberge, I found the Italian lady[115] solitary, and out of spirits, in consequence of our detention. At five o’clock, we were asked to take refreshment, and informed, that they could give us soup and macaroni, but, on tasting the former, it was composed chiefly of water, with some onions and vermicelli, and a large quantity of oil floating upon the surface; this fare I could not relish, and determined to wait until we returned on board, as we intended to do shortly, in order to take advantage of any favourable change in the weather, and when I could avail myself of my own stores.

After returning to the vessel, and making a hearty meal, we lay down upon our mattresses as on the preceding night, myself on the bench, the lady on the floor, and the captain and crew in the forepart of the vessel.

The wind, which throughout the night had continued fresh, in the morning became more moderate and favourable; soon after day-light we weighed anchor, stood out of the harbour, and beat up along shore during the day, making what sailors call a long leg and a short one, or perhaps what will be more intelligible, a long tack and a short one, the wind being three points on the right side of our noses; about evening it freshened, and was fed by small rain. A Swedish brig passed us at two p.m. which was running out of[116] the gulf of Genoa, with a fine fair wind. About eight in the evening, the wind had increased in such a degree, that the captain thought it necessary to seek shelter for the night, but it was become so dark, that in running for a place he had been accustomed to, the vessel took ground, under the lee of some small uninhabited island. The whole crew, including himself, now made such a hue-and-cry, that one would have thought, nothing less than immediate destruction was to be the result of this mistake; however, we made shift to secure the vessel to the rocks, with an anchor, and it was fortunate that we succeeded in effecting this, for the wind soon increased to a tremendous gale, with heavy rain, which continued through the present night, and the following day and night also.

I had now plenty of occupation in calming the fears of my companion, who, as may be imagined, became dreadfully alarmed; partly with this intention, and partly from necessity, I changed my mattress from the bench to the floor; for the former station was too much exposed to the cold wind and rain, to make it longer tenable. Our cabin was not a close room, but covered over with a tilted roof like a waggon, and had temporary canvas screens, at each end, to secure us from the weather.

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At length I had the pleasure of succeeding in my attempts to restore the lady’s confidence, and she afterward amply compensated me by her cheerful manners, and agreeable conversation. Sterne may dilate upon the delicacy of his situation by land, when shut up for eight hours in a room, half as large as our whole ship, and a third person in an adjoining closet, with a widow lady of thirty, who could coolly draw up articles to regulate their conduct; but what was his case compared with mine, enclosed, as I was, for two nights and a day in the cabin of a vessel, and scarcely within hearing of a living soul, with a young married female of five-and-twenty, and whom my imagination might lead me to suppose beautiful as an Houri. The whole of this time passed away like a night to me; for as it was cold, we shut ourselves up close, to keep out the wind and rain; like our sailors on the northern expedition, during this state of confinement, it made no difference, whether we dined in the night or day, for it was just as easy for me to serve out our provisions in the former, as in the latter; and with respect to sleep, I think I had the best of it in the day-time, as the lady’s fears were less on the qui vive, for whenever the sea at night struck us a little harder than usual, she would cry out in terror, “Monsieur! Monsieur![118] nous sommes contre les rochers,” and I must have had indeed a heart of rock, had I not poured in all possible consolation: I had the pleasure indeed of thinking that the assurances of my animated tongue, were not less serviceable to her, than the enjoyment of my lingua mortua, which no doubt contributed very efficaciously to support her strength and spirits, for I soon found by the lightness of the basket, that her own stores were insufficient for so prolonged a voyage, or as sailors would express it, that she was in danger of experiencing a southerly wind in the bread-bag.

It was true that this was Friday, but my fair companion was not in a situation to think of maigre day, even had it been Vendrédi saint itself. I believe the influence of the French Revolution, has contributed materially to lessen the superstitions of the Catholic countries, which have been exposed to its action. I have heard a French officer remark, that for his part he had met with a sufficient number of maigre days during the war, and could now afford no more, but must live gras to make up for what he had lost. The priests still contrive to make many women, children, and servants, observe their ordinances, but the men have ventured, pretty generally, to throw off their restraint.

On Saturday, soon after day-break, the lady,[119] peeping out of a hole in the canvas screen, found that the vessel was moving along, by observing the masts pass by the trees on shore; and immediately called out aloud for the captain. We at first attributed her exclamations to her fears; but soon perceived that the ship was actually drifting from the shore, and taking the anchor with her. All hands were called, and the anchor got in, when we fortunately found that the wind, although far from fair, had become moderate enough, to allow us to make sail, and as the day advanced, it became still more propitious. About four in the afternoon, we got round cape Noli, being obliged however to make a few tacks to accomplish it; at this point I heard the sea beating against the rocks, and roaring in the hollow caverns, and could perceive, by the motion of the vessel, that we were near breakers; but so long as our sailors expressed no fears, I felt no apprehension, as I was satisfied, that while they could use their eyes they would run no risk. The character of the Italian, differs widely from that of the British sailor; the former loses his presence of mind by his fears, and makes confusion more confused; the latter, so long as his ship continues unbroken, retains his undaunted spirit, and only contemplates how to apply his energies with most effect.

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After weathering cape Noli, the wind became more favourable, and allowed us to shape our course for Genoa, and had we pursued it properly, I am persuaded that we might have made the lighthouse of that place in four hours, but our captain, in reply to my urgency in this respect, stated, what was certainly not unreasonable, that as his provision was exhausted, if by any chance we should be blown off the coast, the vessel might be lost, or the crew perish from hunger. He therefore determined to put into Noli, off which place we anchored at nine o’clock, when, with a part of his crew, he immediately went on shore to procure provisions, and amuse himself.

Noli was formerly a place of some repute, constituting a republic of fishermen: it is now a mere fishing-town. The castle still remains.

The captain returned between ten and eleven o’clock, and, according to my request, brought with him some bread and wine to increase my little store. The bread had a peculiar sweet taste, which, I was informed, was in consequence of chesnuts being mixed with the wheaten flour. The wine was good, and made us merry before lying down for[121] the night, and we felt happy in the prospect of reaching our destined port on the following day. In the early part of the next morning, on passing Savona, the captain went on shore, to order some new sails, which he stated were to be procured cheaper there than at Genoa, and returned at twelve o’clock; when a contrary breeze having sprung up, he declared his intention of running into that port, as he was confident that we were going to have bad weather, and should be obliged to put back to it at last. Thus we had the mortification of being again detained at the distance of thirty miles from Genoa, and only ten from the port we had left in the morning, after having already occupied six days in a voyage, which, with a fair passage, ought to have been completed in forty-eight hours, and has sometimes been effected in sixteen.

We anchored at Savona about one o’clock, and experienced a delightful afternoon. The port at this place is by nature very fine, and was formerly capable of receiving vessels of war, but has been obstructed materially at its entrance, by the jealousy of the Genoese, under the specious pretence of preventing its harbouring hostile shipping.

As there was no prospect of continuing our voyage to-day, my companion and myself went on shore, after dinner, and amused ourselves with a[122] walk in the country; after an hour’s march, we reached a small town, named Albisola, remarkable for its porcelain manufactory; my companion saw, however, nothing but black plates: on our way, we fell in with a genteel young man, a native of Albisola, who gave us much local information; after which, we passed a lady and gentleman, who, we were informed, were the mayor of the place and his lady, on their way to a concert at Savona. We found Savona a small neat town, pleasantly situated, and entering some of the shops, made a few trifling purchases, and were remarkably struck with the politeness of the Italian shop-keepers. On inquiring the time of day, we were answered, “twenty-three hours and a half;” this appeared a very extraordinary manner of noting the time: the fact is, however, that, in Italy, their calculation always commences at sun-set, which is their twenty-fourth hour, and consequently, must vary according to the varying seasons of the year, which makes their mode of computation exceedingly difficult for a stranger to comprehend. In addition to the above, I had another indication of being in Italy, from the universal use of that language; in short, my companion conversed with every one in Italian, and then translated it for me into French; and I was much pleased with the specimen I here[123] received both of the manners and language of the country.

In the evening we returned to our vessel to sleep, in order to be prepared for any favourable change in the wind, but determined, in case of its not shifting, to disembark with our baggage in the morning, and proceed to Genoa by land. We were cheerful and happy in the prospect of our difficulties being soon terminated, and after regaling the crew with wine, retired to rest.

We rose with day-break, and finding the wind still adverse, after settling with the captain, went on shore, and taking places in the voiture to Genoa, determined no longer to be the sport of the winds. There were but two vacancies in the coach, and finding our anxiety to proceed with it, the conducteur would fain have taken advantage of it, but the lady managed the affair well, for offering what she knew to be the usual sum, viz. five francs for each of us; on their refusal to accept it, under the plea that there was no other coach that day, we walked off, and pretended to be indifferent about it: this manœuvre brought them to, and before we had proceeded the length of a street, the conducteur came running after us, to say that he was willing to take us; after this, however, we had some trouble to get our luggage to the carriage, and were obliged to walk part of[124] the way out of town, in doing which we were followed by the most importunate host of beggars I had ever witnessed in my life; my companion was so confused that she could with difficulty count out her money to pay the porters, &c. At length our supplicants dropped off, one by one, until we literally out-walked them all.

I ought not to take leave of Savona, without mentioning, that at this point the maritime Alps terminate, and the Apennines commence.

About four o’clock, we passed through a village, stated to be the birth-place of Columbus: this information excited much interest in my mind: I was led to reflect upon the manner in which his extraordinary genius had surmounted the various obstacles opposed to his discovery of a new world, and to regret the supineness of my own country, which might otherwise have had the honour of participating in so important an event; but the enlivening conversation of our party, would not admit of my indulging freely in such speculations, and ere long we made our entry through the gates of Genoa.

The narrowness of the streets prevented our coach from setting me down at the hotel to which I had been recommended; this is not, however, to be regarded as any evidence of its want of respectability, for the same objection lies against almost every other hotel in Genoa: for there are but three streets in the whole city which will admit of carriages passing each other, and which are, the Strada balba, the Strada nuova, and the Strada novissima, consisting entirely of ranges of palaces. I was disappointed in not finding accommodation at the hotel in question, and therefore, on the solicitations of a man who had followed me all the way from the coach, went to the Piccolo Paregé, a large house near the port, with a tower on the top of it, from whence there is a fine view of the harbour and shipping. After enjoying the luxury of what was formerly directed by some of the ancients as a religious ceremony, ablution, I retired to a comfortable bed, for the first time since I left Nice.

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In the morning, after calling at the post-office and at the British consul’s to ascertain the state of the Neapolitan war, I proceeded to explore the town; the weather was, however, wet, cold, and uncomfortable, and I was sensible of a very different climate from that of Nice; indeed, I was informed that, during some of our finest days at the latter place, it rained or snowed at Genoa.

The succeeding day was the last of the Carnival, and a great number of people were parading the streets masked, and in all the fantastic garb of the season; the business, however, appeared to be kept up with more spirit than at Toulouse on the preceding winter. In the course of the evening a person with whom I was walking addressed a female mask, who said she was cook in a gentleman’s family, and that she must hasten home to wash the dishes; on parting, we induced her to shake hands with us; and if I am a judge of the affair, I pronounce that her hand had never been in dish-water, for a prettier formed, or more delicate one, I never touched in my life. In the evening, the festival concluded with masked-balls at the theatres, and other amusements.

On the following day (Wednesday), the weather was still unfavourable. Several gentlemen, to whom I had forwarded letters from their friends at Nice, called upon me, two of whom conducted[127] me to various parts of the city, and described its beauties. It is surrounded by two walls; an inner one, taking in a circumference of six or seven miles, and an outer one, making a boundary of not less than thirteen miles, and enclosing various rising grounds which command the city: there are two fine bridges over small rivers, one in the eastern, the other in the western part of the town.

Independent of the three streets which I have already named, Genoa consists of little better than lanes, so numerous and intricate, that a stranger is constantly losing his way; and even those who have been some time resident are not unfrequently at a loss. The cathedral, churches, Doge’s palace, and various other public as well as private buildings, are very fine, and well worth the attention of the traveller.

There is an Italian proverb relative to Genoa, which says, that it has “sea without fish; land without trees; and men without faith.” The first of these accusations I am satisfied is without foundation: for I was given to understand that fish, as well as all other provisions, were plentiful, and even cheaper than at Nice. The wine of the country is not considered good, but excellent Italian and French wines may be purchased at a reasonable rate; the best and cheapest way of[128] procuring them is to go on board some vessel in the port, taste the different qualities, and select what pleases the palate; any quantity may then be ordered, but it is advisable to be provided with a porter or two to carry it away immediately, and to take care not to lose sight of it, until it reaches home in safety, or it will run great risk of being changed.

After spending two or three days longer at Genoa, I engaged for my passage in a felucca to Leghorn, and what is singular, it had the same name, the Divine Providence, as the one I had so lately sailed in from Nice. A great number of vessels of this kind are continually passing from hence to Leghorn, and the felucca men, if they have an idea of any one being about to undertake the voyage, are extremely troublesome in pestering him, as he passes along the streets, to sail with them, and will even fish the servants at his hotel, to gain intelligence of his intended proceedings. In arranging the point of fare with them, it is necessary to be very cautious, as they will ask four times the usual rate.

I agreed for twelve francs, the sum which the master of the felucca had found out, that I had paid for my passage from Nice; it cost me, however, half as much more in gratuities, and other expenses, and I had afterward the mortification[129] to find, that other passengers had secured the same accommodations, for only five francs each.

About six o’clock on the evening of Saturday, March the 11th, the captain came to apprize me that the vessel was waiting. On getting on board there was very little wind, so that throughout the night, we were obliged to make use of our oars as well as sails; at day-break a breeze sprang up from the eastward, which obliged us to turn back for fifteen miles, towards Porto Fino, where we anchored at ten o’clock, and went on shore to a miserable auberge.

Among our passengers were two French gentlemen who were friends, but of very opposite characters; the one was volatile, and thoughtless, and talked of proceeding to Naples, and offering his services to the patriot army, the other who, we understood, had been a merchant, was sedate and thoughtful, so that, I dare say, pounds, shillings, and pence might have been read in his face. The lively one amused us, not a little, with his eccentricity; he spoke of having a mistress at Genoa, whom he had engaged to marry that very morning, but he stated that the present was not the first time of his having proved faithless to her, and seemed to exult in her disappointment; it, however, appeared in the sequel that he could not reconcile himself to give her up, for after we entered Porto Fino,[130] he began to repent, and earnestly solicit his friend to return to Genoa with him, offering to pay all expenses; at length, the other acceded to his wishes, and they left us, which was to myself a source of considerable regret as I lost, at least, one amusing companion, whose language I could understand, and had no one left with whom I could converse. In order to get back to Genoa, these gentlemen had to pull five or six miles, in the midst of a heavy rain, and in an open boat, in a contrary direction, until they reached the new road making between Genoa and Spezzia.

This road when completed, will be an incalculable advantage to the communications with the southern parts of Italy; the old road to Florence, over the mountains, being a very indirect one; although an expensive undertaking, there is little doubt but that this will be compensated, as many thousands, who in order to reach southern Italy, now go by sea to Lerici and Leghorn, will then prefer the journey by land; and in the event of an equally good communication being formed between Genoa and Nice, a strong inducement will be offered to the traveller, to enter this country by that route, particularly in the winter season. This has been partially effected under the auspices of Bonaparte; the present Sardinian government, however, are not disposed to carry it forward,[131] as they are naturally jealous of affording their neighbours, the French, so easy an access into the heart of their country.

Throughout the remainder of this, and part of the next day, the weather continued unfavourable, and we made no attempt to leave Porto Fino; however, in the afternoon of the latter we sailed, but in the evening it fell calm, and we took to our oars throughout the night; about noon, on the following day, a light and favourable air sprang up, which soon increased to a moderate breeze; about three o’clock we arrived at the entrance of the Gulf of Spezzia, where to my great concern, notwithstanding I said every thing to induce him to push on as the wind was fair, the captain persisted in coming to an anchor, when every one went on shore, excepting two seamen and myself;—had we continued our course, we should probably have reached Leghorn before daylight on the following morning; whereas, from the neglect, our voyage was rendered a most tedious one. The fact was, that the captain and many of his crew, were at this place, in the midst of their friends.

In the middle of the Gulf of Spezzia there is a constant spring of fresh water, which is a matter of astonishment to most people, but the phenomenon is not difficult to account for; as the ancients who were well acquainted with this gulf, by them[132] termed Porta Luna, do not name it, it is probably of subsequent occurrence and volcanic origin, and perhaps supplied from reservoirs contained within the adjacent Apennine mountains.

I was informed by the sailors, that a new light-house is nearly completed at the entrance of this gulf, which must be a most important security to vessels passing that way.

The town of Carrara, so celebrated for its quarries of beautiful marble, used for the purposes of sculpture, is situated in this neighbourhood.

We were tacking about all the following day, and at times assisted with the weather oars, at which I occasionally took my place, by way of exercise; in the forenoon we passed the mouth of one river, and in the evening arrived at the entrance of another, the Sier, distant about eight miles from the Arno, and twenty from Leghorn.

We entered the mouth of this river, and secured our vessel under a fort, with the object of procuring provisions, for our Genoa stores were now nearly exhausted. We had an additional view, to seek for protection and security, for the weather had become very cloudy, and the captain felt assured that the night would prove stormy, which in fact it did, a severe gale, with heavy rain, coming on at ten o’clock.

The whole of the next morning, we had high wind with heavy rain, and I began to meditate,[133] in case the weather cleared up, walking to Pisa with the captain, which place was nine miles distant from the fort, and then taking coach for Leghorn. The captain had, this morning, to go a league and a half to procure provisions for his crew; these coasting vessels seldom carry more then three or four days store with them, and in case of necessity trust to getting into some port for supply, and which they appear particularly fond of doing. When on the contrary, I urged the captain to proceed, he would silence me by asking, why he should wish to go into port, when it would expedite the voyage, and save the extra expenses of maintaining his crew, to keep out of it?

About noon we had the pleasure of finding it become quite fair, and the wind favourable; we weighed anchor at two o’clock, and stood towards the Arno, for the purpose of discharging part of the cargo, consisting of goods for Pisa; this detained us about an hour; after which we made sail for Leghorn, with as fresh a breeze as our vessel could stagger under, and made the port in fine style, running a distance of twelve miles, in less than an hour and a half. I could hardly credit the circumstance, when they wanted to thrust me into the boat like a bale of goods; the fact was, that it was necessary, before we could be allowed to quit the vessel, to be examined at the health-office, and it wanted but a few minutes[134] before this would be closed, in which case we should have been detained on board till morning. I left the vessel, without my baggage, which the captain promised should be taken on shore immediately after me; but here he deceived me, for after getting on shore, I was given to understand that it could not be sent before morning; he offered however, to accompany me wherever I might wish to go, and I lost no time in making my way to the Aquila Nira, where I proposed to take up my residence.

After the luxury of washing, and partaking of a good dinner, I retired to rest, in a bed large enough to contain at least four persons, and where I was for some hours, incapable of sleeping from excess of enjoyment. In the morning my baggage was brought according to promise, and the day being fine, I engaged a valet-de-place to deliver some letters of introduction, but had the misfortune to find all the gentlemen to whom they were addressed out of the way; after this I amused myself in exploring the town.

At the table d’hôte we had a party of twenty-five natives of various nations, many of whom like myself, had been enjoying the pleasures of felucca travelling, of which they gave woful accounts. Among them was a merchant from Saxony, who, hearing that I intended to set off by diligence for Florence on the following morning, recommended me to take[135] a place in a voiture de voyage in preference, as both cheaper, and more expeditious, in consequence of its taking a shorter route, and at the same time offering to secure me a place in company with himself. This proposal was very agreeable to me, and after dinner we walked together to the voiture office, but the clerk was not within; the merchant, however, assured me, that I need feel no uneasiness respecting a place, and that all events he would, if necessary, give me up his own, and take the outside. I then left him, and proceeded with my valet to visit the English burial ground, where, amongst many other neat tombs, may be seen that of Smollet, who has here a small monument erected to his memory; I was not a little affected in tracing, under such circumstances, the character of this man as deduced from his writings, but I could not spare time for extending my reflections. A few of the tombs were surrounded by cypress-trees, others by neat railings of cane-work enclosing a variety of flowers; the ground is protected by a wall, and the entrance kept locked, the key being placed under the care of a person, who preserves every thing neat and clean, and of course expects a small gratuity for shewing it. I should have been glad to have spent more time in examining this interesting spot, but had an engagement to meet a gentleman at my hotel, the time for which was approaching.

[136]

Besides this burial ground, there are many objects, in Leghorn, worthy the notice of the stranger; as the cathedral, a number of churches, the Greek and Armenian chapels, the Jews’ synagogue, the coral manufactories, lazarettos, &c. &c.

In the course of this walk, I met two of the English gentlemen, who had sailed in company with me from Nice, and left us at Cerf; on comparing notes, I found they had very little the start of me, notwithstanding my protracted felucca voyage.

The harbour of Leghorn is divided into two ports, the outer one defended by a pier; large vessels, however, anchor in the roads, about two miles from this pier; there is a light-house built on a rock, called the Malora, situated in the open sea, a mile distant from the mole, and which is lighted every night by means of thirty-two lamps; there is also a smaller light on the outer pier, within which the merchant-ships lie, the inner harbour, from its shallowness, being only adapted for boats, and very small craft.

From the accounts which I received of this city, I should have been glad to have prolonged my stay in it a few days longer, had I not arranged to set out for Florence in the morning.

Before leaving Leghorn, I called upon Dr. P⸺ a Scotch medical gentleman, practising at this place. While at his house, Dr. D⸺ of Florence,[137] for whom I had letters, came in, having just arrived in charge of the corpse of Captain Broughton of the royal navy, who had died in that city, and which he had brought for burial at Leghorn.

Early in the morning I got ready for the voiture, but had the mortification, notwithstanding the assurances of the Saxony merchant, to find myself left behind, as it was stated to be quite full; I had, however, a resource in the diligence, which fortunately was on the point of starting, with a vacant place, which I immediately secured, paying twenty-five pauls for my fare.

We stopped at the gates of the town to have our passports and baggage examined, and I may take this opportunity of remarking, that in both these respects, I suffered less inconvenience at Leghorn than usual in consequence of being un militaire. In this case, the passport has only to be signed by the commandant, who does it with much civility, and without any charge; my baggage was neither inspected on entering or leaving the town.

We had no conducteur to Florence, and changed the postillion at every post, who, as in England, expected a gratuity at the end of it; I had an instance here of the indisposition of native passengers, to give information to strangers, to prevent their being imposed upon; for one to whom I applied, on this occasion, evaded a direct answer for a length of time, before he could be brought to[138] state, that it being a long stage, and equal to a double post, he should give a paul, being at the rate of half a paul for each post.

We were driven the first post from Pisa tolerably well, but afterwards, for a time, made very slow progress, contrary to what I had understood respecting the rapidity of Florentine travelling. On inquiry, it was stated, that we should get on faster by paying the postillion extra, which we then agreed to do, and I am not aware, that I was ever better driven in my life, than after this compromise.

In about nine hours we arrived at the gates of Florence, where we were detained some time in the examination of passports and baggage. I here attempted to take advantage of my experience, at Leghorn, of the value of a military character, but it would not do; after irritating the Italian officer, whose language I could not comprehend, but my pretending for some time not to understand his demand to inspect my baggage, I was obliged to descend, and lay open my portmanteau. This soon settled the business, and we shortly after arrived at the Swiss Pension, kept by Madame Hembert, to which I had been recommended by my slippery Saxony merchant, and for which at least, I afterwards found my acknowledgments were due to him.

I congratulated myself on having arrived safely at this universally admired city, and had the additional pleasure of finding the hotel, to which I had been recommended, exceedingly comfortable; the establishment was excellent, and the charges, at the same time, reasonable; every thing was conducted upon a fixed system, the prices for rooms and meals being undeviating; nor did they charge for any thing which was not actually partaken of. The rates were as follows:—breakfast, a paul and a half (the paul being little more than five pence sterling); there was a table d’hôte at two o’clock, chiefly frequented by merchants of all nations; and another at five, for the accommodation of those who were travelling for amusement, comprising amongst other articles a good substantial English dinner; for each of which, with a good bottle of wine, the charge was five pauls, somewhat less than half-a-crown sterling; and the bedroom was charged three pauls per night.

The table d’hôte was nearly over when I arrived,[140] but I contrived to make a good dinner from the remains of a roasted turkey, during which I recognised the voice of the Saxony merchant entering the house, and of whom I had gained ground half an hour; but he did not come near me, for the two or three days that he remained at this hotel.

I was not disposed to consider my present visit to this city, more than en passant on my way to Rome, intending to take it more at leisure on my return; my present observations are therefore to be regarded as very casual ones.

Madame H⸺ had the kindness to procure me a servant, but it was not easy to gain much information from him, as he was an Italian, and not in the least acquainted with the French language; however by his naming, as he had been ordered, each street and public building, as we passed along, I soon began to acquire a general idea of the town, and contrived to go wherever I wished, so as to call upon my friends and explore most parts of the city; the weather, however, was unfavourable, and, notwithstanding the advanced state of the spring, both cold and wet, so that for the nine days I staid at Florence, we were only one day exempt from rain more or less: as compared with Nice, it might be considered an English climate.

The cathedral is a beautiful edifice, paved with fine marble, as is also the Duke’s chapel, which is[141] said to contain some exquisite paintings over the altar. On Sunday I was present at the ceremonies of this chapel, where I heard some fine vocal and instrumental music; after which I proceeded to attend divine service at the house of our ambassador, which is opened for that purpose to English residents and visitors: and I could not avoid contrasting its devout and simple solemnity, with the pompous ritual of the Roman church.

There were few public places of amusement open, during my stay at Florence, it being the season of the Carême, or Lent. I visited the Theatre Cocomero, and heard the Barber of Seville, an opera so well known, that it would be superfluous to enter into any description of it; but I cannot resist stating the extraordinary effect produced upon me by the singing of the prima Donna. I thought I could have given the world to have seen her pretty face and figure; the tones and expression of her voice, however, appeared to connect themselves in my mind, by pure sympathy, with exact delineations of her person and attitudes, and to excite the most intense desire to possess the power of vision, which I ever recollect to have experienced since I had the misfortune to lose it. I heard, I felt, I saw or imagined I saw, every thing which words, gestures, and actions could convey: I rose, leaned forward, and felt an[142] almost irresistible impulse to spring upon the stage, to ascertain whether my ideas were illusive or real; and what may be thought more strange my desire to see, appeared to originate from a wish to convince myself that I could not see. I may be thought to overcharge this description with too vivid or affected sentiment, but I can assure the reader, that it contains only a small portion of the exquisite feelings which I experienced.

I am unable to give any account of the state of society at Florence, my intercourse being confined to a very few friends, who were chiefly former acquaintance.

I met with a gentleman just arrived from Rome, who assured me that every thing was quiet and safe there, and I consequently determined, whatever might be the result of the Austrian and Neapolitan war, to advance forward to that place; but my determination was still more confirmed, the day before my proposed departure, by the official news which arrived, of the Austrians having entered the Neapolitan states, without any considerable opposition. At the same time we received intelligence of a revolution having broken out at Turin, Genoa, and Nice, and I could not but feel an equal concern for my friends at the latter place, with what they had previously felt for me; but my apprehensions on this score soon subsided, on finding[143] the effort immediately checked by the Austrians stepping into Piedmont; so that in fact they appear to have taken upon themselves the guardianship of all Italy.

On the 27th of March, I left Florence for Rome, by way of Sienna, in company with an English gentleman, Mr. W. S⸺, and two Italians. It rained very hard, and the roads were consequently heavy, but our coach was large and comfortable; the horses were indifferent ones, and I observed one of our Italian companions express his dissatisfaction, on finding that we were not to be carried forward by mules, which are more capable of undergoing fatigue, and, I believe, in this country, twice as valuable as horses. We did not halt for breakfast until two o’clock in the afternoon, and as I had taken nothing before leaving Florence, I was really so unwell about twelve o’clock, that I entreated the driver to allow me to partake of a piece of bread, which I heard him eating, but he told me he had just finished it; I felt however sufficiently revived after a hearty breakfast of mutton-chops, coffee, &c. to be able to walk a few miles, which we could do at times, as the weather in the afternoon cleared up. One of our Italian companions was a Roman, and professed himself attached to mineralogy, and a great traveller, having been amongst the Turks, Greeks, Egyptians,[144] Persians, and also over the greater part of Europe: he had, however, yet to visit England, from which he promised himself great gratification. The plain English of this probably was, that he was an itinerant dealer in precious stones. Towards evening the rain came on again, and we had a very heavy journey to Sienna, which we did not reach until after nine o’clock, when we made a hearty supper, and retired to bed.

Sienna is described as a pleasant summer residence, but it must from its vicinity to the Apennines be very wet and cold in winter. There are several good public as well as private buildings; the streets are tolerably handsome, but many of them exceedingly steep. The inhabitants are stated to be hospitable and polished, and to speak the purest Italian of any modern state. There are said to be many English residents. The present pope Pius VII. is a native of this place. The cathedral is magnificent, and particularly famous for its pavement of white marble, inlaid with Scripture pieces of grey marble, amongst which is Abraham’s intended sacrifice of his son Isaac. Another piece, representing Moses striking the Rock, is also greatly admired: the whole, indeed, are of exquisite workmanship, which it took ages to complete. But as I can give little other personal account of this place, than what I might derive from my[145] dreams, having passed nearly the whole of the short time I continued here in bed, I shall say no more respecting it. At six in the morning we recommenced our journey, notwithstanding which early hour, our good and pious coachman had been to mass to pray for a safe journey.

We breakfasted at Buono Convento, where the Emperor Henry VII. was poisoned by a monk with the sacramental wafer, in the year 1314.

The morning was again wet, and the roads rendered very heavy, but in the afternoon the weather cleared up, and we were enabled to walk for a couple of hours. At six in the evening, we arrived at an auberge, named La Scala, where we were to spend the night; it was a single house, placed at the foot of the hill, and leading up to the village of Radicofani, situated considerably farther up the mountain, of that name, at a point inaccessible for carriages; still higher up beyond the village is a rock of singular form projecting over it, on the top of which stands the castle Radicofani, the whole forming a most picturesque scene.

Before our arrival at La Scala, a servant had preceded us, and secured the best apartments for the use of a lady and her family, who were travelling in another voiture. The lady was stated to be Madame Frimont, wife of the Austrian general of that name, on her way from Milan to join her husband[146] at Naples; it is probable, however, that this might be only a ruse de guerre, to secure greater attention; we were glad, however, to get a supper as we could, and I was obliged to sleep in the same room with our vittureno, otherwise the poor fellow must have lain down with his horses in the stable, which it would have been cruel to have compelled him to have done, particularly as he was the most civil and accommodating driver I had yet met with; indeed I would sooner have given up the whole room, than deprived him of half of it.

In the morning, we set off at five o’clock with six horses to ascend the tremendous hill of Radicofani, and a very severe duty it was for them; nor could we reasonably relieve them of part of their weight by walking, as it both rained heavily, and the wind was at the same time boisterous, and, as we approached the summit, extremely cold. At nine o’clock, when we had partly descended on the other side, we stopped at the last village in the Tuscan states, where custom-house officers are stationed to examine the baggage and passports of travellers; we escaped however inspection of the former by the payment of a paul each; after this we proceeded to enter the earthly dominions of his holiness the pope. Soon after the road became execrably bad, and we stuck so fast in the mud and ruts, that the poor horses had[147] the greatest difficulty in dragging the carriage forward; I am informed that this place is in winter frequently quite impassible; we attempted to walk, but could not proceed without the risk of being half buried, so that before we resumed our places, our Italian companions began to cry out for St. Antonio, and half a score more saints, to come to their assistance.

About noon, we reached the first post in the Roman states, where we breakfasted at a miserable inn, Madame Frimont making her appearance soon after us. The day now turned out uncommonly fine, and we proceeded in good spirits; we were shortly after checked by the custom-house officers belonging to his holiness, whose scruples, however, were readily silenced by the sight of a paul from each of us. Shortly afterwards we were detained, to have our passports examined, at the village of Aquapendente, famous for being the birth-place of the great anatomist Fabricius. This detention mortified us exceedingly, as in the interim, Madame Frimont, of whom we had previously the start, passed without interruption, and thus got irretrievably a-head of us. This exemption our driver attributed to the military connexion of the lady, and I believe that, on the same score, I might have refused an examination of my passport; they had, however, the assurance to charge[148] us a paul for inspecting them. The road now became very good, and enabled us to walk for a considerable distance; and the conversation of the party, who all spoke French, proved very agreeable. We met, however, with some unpleasant incidents on the way; amongst which I may name the mangled limbs of a fellow creature who had been executed, exposed on the road side. This unfortunate wretch had no doubt been a robber, perhaps a murderer, and a disgrace to human nature; but granting all this, it appears repugnant to Christian feeling, to exhibit so disgusting a spectacle to the purer part of the community. To check the progress of crime, it is doubtless necessary to inflict punishments, and to make the example more efficacious, to accomplish this before the public eye; but when the penalty has been paid, surely it would be preferable to withdraw the remains of mortality, and place them where they may unoffensively mingle with their parent dust, rather than to leave

Our detention at Aquapendente caused the evening to close in upon us before we expected, and it became so dark, when we were about a league from our destined resting-place for the night, that the driver was obliged to walk at the[149] head of his horses, and guide them in the right road. Before we had proceeded far in this way, we were obstructed by a number of persons with lights in front of us. We had received various intimations of the dangerous nature of the country we were now in, as infested with banditti, and which no doubt is attributable to the poverty of the peasantry, and number of fishermen inhabiting the borders of the lake of Bolsena, which we were passing at no great distance. We were, however, relieved from our fears, on finding that the circumstance arose from a vehicle having broken down in the middle of the road, and which had detained even our consort voiture, that had passed us at Aquapendente. It was some time before we could proceed, and we were then obliged to be guided on our way with lights for two miles, until we reached the town of Bolsena.

The Austrian lady’s servant, however, had preceded us, and secured all the best apartments, so that we were obliged to make shift with what were left: my companions were better able to take care of themselves than I was, so that I fared worse than any, and was obliged to sleep in the passage at the head of the stairs.

We certainly thought the lady very inconsiderate, for she not only secured bed-rooms for herself and children, but had taken one with four[150] beds in it as a sitting-room, which she might have dispensed with, particularly as she knew that there was a coach-full of passengers arrived at the same time. We did not fail to express our sentiments loudly, both in French and Italian, and in such a manner, that we were sure of her becoming acquainted with them. In addition, we had to wait for our supper until she had finished, and this so long, that Mr. W. S. tired of the delay, went to bed without refreshment.

At six in the morning we recommenced our journey through Montefiascone, celebrated for its wines, and reached Viterbo for breakfast. A party of Austrians returning from Naples, unfortunately followed us into the inn, and carried away the attentions of our host and his myrmidons. After breakfast, Mr. W. S. and myself set off before our coach, and walked up the mountain of Viterbo, and when we reached the top experienced a delightfully refreshing breeze, and my companion was gratified with a most magnificent view of villas and villages, with lake Vico on the right, which at first he mistook for the sea. At a distance on the left, was a palace of the king of Naples. We now re-entered the coach, and descended the hill with rapidity, contesting the race with Madame Frimont’s voiture. I cannot say, however, the companionship afforded us any gratification, as[151] we had all the disadvantages without the pleasures of it; for we had not once the honour of conversing with the lady, or of course the merit of voluntarily sacrificing our comforts for her accommodation; it was all one whether we got in first or last, there appeared to be so good an understanding between her servant, the drivers, and the people of the inn, that we were sure to come off only second best.

We reached Ronciglione for the night. At this place, we had the pleasure of meeting with Mr. John Bull, lately from England, but last of all, from Rome, where he had been studying the finer arts, that is, the arts of eating and drinking, and who was now on his return to his native city of London, by way of Florence. He had engaged a voiture of the same description with the one we were travelling in, for the exclusive use of himself and his servant, William Simple, who did not presume to speak any other language than what his mother had thought right to teach him, while Mr. Bull, by three months’ practice, and the assistance of a dictionary, had acquired sufficient Italian to enable him to call for the various objects of his affection. He was loud in his complaints against his Italian coachman, Antonio Sulky, who, contrary to the assurances of the person from whom he had hired his carriage at Rome, was disposed to do everything to please himself, but nothing which[152] he, Mr. Bull, was desirous should be done. Poor Simple, however, appeared to come more immediately under his displeasure, for, having neglected to secure himself a bed, and which he endeavoured to excuse, by saying that he did not know how to ask for one; “Why you fool,” retorted the master, “go up stairs, look out for an empty room, lock the door, and put the key in your pocket.”

Notwithstanding the waiter was too much hurried to think that he had any right to be civil, I got a pretty good supper and bed, nor was I without bed-fellows, and had I been as active as they were lively, the dancing of St. Vitus would not have been comparable with my exertions. But I comforted myself with the certainty of its being the last night of the journey, whereas, poor Mr. Bull had but just commenced his. I cannot but acknowledge, that I amused myself highly with the thoughts of the manner in which he would be jerked out of the Roman into the Tuscan states, an operation of which, I am sure he could himself have no idea.

On the following morning, Saturday, March the 31st, we set off at six o’clock, under the delightful prospect of reaching Rome in the afternoon, being now only twenty-five miles distant. After a rainy morning, we arrived about noon for breakfast at a house nine miles from the city; here Mr. W. S⸺, meeting some friends, took his leave of us. We[153] had a party of Austrian officers to breakfast at the same table, who treated me with marked attention, reminding me of our having met at Florence. At half past one, we pursued our journey, and at length reached the Ponte Molle, where we crossed the far-famed Tiber,

After this, our road lay for two miles along the ancient Via Flaminia, to the gate formerly of the same name, but now degraded to the vulgar appellation of Porto del Popolo,—that gate, which once poured forth a race of heroes, almost the rivals of the gods themselves, the founders of the glory of Rome, and supporters of its virtue.

It is impossible to describe the feelings which overpowered me, when after passing through this gate, I found myself in the midst of that city, to which my most ardent wishes had been directing me—the once celebrated, and yet interesting Rome,—which

Now, alas! little more than a monument, and shadow,[154] of her former greatness. “How art thou cut down to the ground, which didst weaken the nations.”

Before concluding the present chapter, it may not be unacceptable to such travellers, as propose to pass from Florence to Rome, by way of Sienna, to state various circumstances, which may be useful in directing their proceedings. In the first place, I shall allude to the contract I had made with the proprietor of the voiture. My bargain was, that we should leave Florence on a fixed day, and proceed forward to Rome, occupying five days and four nights on the journey, resting on the successive nights at the following places, viz. Sienna, La Scala, Bolsena, and Ronciglione. He was to convey myself and luggage, providing me with coffee every morning before setting out, breakfast about noon, and a supper and bed at night; bearing every expense, excepting custom-house fees; for these advantages, I agreed to pay him three Napoleons and a half, with a buona mana of five francs on arriving at Rome, in case he conducted himself properly.

From experience, I would now recommend as a modification of the above plan, after reaching Sienna on the first night, to rest there for a day or two, which not only gives an opportunity of seeing this interesting town, but serves to recruit the horses, or mules, so as to expedite the remainder of the journey. It will be desirable to leave Sienna[155] at four o’clock in the morning, in order to reach La Scala in time to secure good accommodations; in addition, by arriving early, the horses will have a prolonged rest, before undertaking, the next morning, the fatiguing journey over Radicofani: after staying the third night at Bolsena, it is very necessary to set off early on the following morning, to enable you to reach Ronciglione; for although better accommodation might be found at Viterbo, this place is too distant, to make it easy to reach Rome on the following evening, and there is no town between these points which offers any comfortable accommodation.

On arriving at the gates of Rome, your carriage will be taken possession of by custom-house officers, termed doganieri, who conduct you to the custom-house, where a close inspection of baggage takes place; but it is possible to avoid this detention, by writing to your banker, to obtain a lascia passare, or permission to pass, which should be left directed for you at the gate.

Possibly, instead of contracting with the vittureno to perform the journey in a limited time, it might be preferable to engage with him by the day. In this case, you might rest for any time on the road, when points of interest presented themselves; or if he behaved ill, or from any cause became unable to proceed, he might be discharged.

I took up my residence at Francis’s hotel, in the Strada Conducto; this house has a table d’hôte, said to be the only one in Rome, ready at four o’clock, and consisting of partly an Italian, and partly an English dinner, for which, with a bottle or more of good wine, they charge six pauls, equal to about two shillings and nine pence sterling. The house being very full, I did not succeed in getting so good a bed-room as I could have wished.

In the morning, I engaged a servitore de piazza, or valet de place, and sallied forth to deliver the letters with which I had been intrusted, and particularly to call upon Dr. Clarke, to whom I had an introduction. After attending the English divine service, I visited that most magnificent of all Christian temples, the church of St. Peter’s, in which every Christian country in the world, at the time of its erection, may fairly claim a proprietorship, as each contributed largely to its edification. On entering it, I felt myself impressed with awe and veneration, and notwithstanding the distinctions of ceremony, did not fail to offer up my[157] humble adoration and thanks to the Almighty, for his protection, and mercies so abundantly bestowed upon me, since the first moment of my existence.

It would be ridiculous in me to attempt a description of this grand and magnificent structure, while so many correct and interesting delineations exist.

I spent the evening at Dr. Clarke’s, where I had the pleasure of meeting a gentleman, Mr. L⸺, who had been robbed three nights before, on his return from Tivoli. He did me the favour to relate the circumstances, which were as follow:

Having, with three other gentlemen, engaged a carriage for the day, to see the falls of Tivoli, the party imprudently deferred their return, until the approach of evening. On arriving within two miles of Rome, they were compelled to turn out for a short distance, into a temporary road, in consequence of the main one being under repair; here, from the darkness of the night, which had become so intense that they could not see their horses’ heads, the coachman lost his way, and was obliged to make inquiries of various charcoal drivers, whom they fell in with; as they were on the point of regaining the main road, the coachman cried out “Genti, Genti,” immediately upon which, the carriage was surrounded by banditti. The gentlemen attempted to rush out of the carriage,[158] in hopes of escaping through the darkness of the night, but, with the exception of Mr. L⸺, were immediately secured and plundered. The latter gentleman, after having a musket discharged at him, the fire of which singed his coat and waistcoat, while the ball passed so near as to leave a black mark on his side, succeeded in getting to a dry ditch, bounded by a wall, which he in vain attempted to scale; he therefore determined to lie quiet until the affair was over, taking a valuable watch out of his pocket, and concealing it in one of his gaiters: shortly after, he heard his friends calling him by name, and concluding that the robbers were gone, quitted his place of concealment, in order to rejoin them, when, to his great surprise, he was seized and plundered. They felt for his watch, which he pretended not to have with him, but this would not do; with a dagger at his breast, they menaced instant death if it was not produced; he then stated that he had left it at his place of concealment, and begged them to accompany him to search for it, when after pretending to seek for it, he gave it up, requesting that one particular seal might be returned: this however, after a consultation with their captain, was refused.

The banditti now departed, directing them not to stir until they were off the ground, when they[159] proceeded without farther interruption to Rome. The reason of Mr. L⸺ being called by his friends to be robbed, was this; that the banditti, fully aware of a fourth person having escaped, threatened to murder the whole of the three, unless he was produced, so that they found it necessary for their own safety to discover him. One of the gentlemen was slightly wounded in the hand by a stiletto, in his attempt to escape. On reaching Rome, they immediately repaired to the police, who expressed concern, but took the matter very cooly, and instead of sending out a party in pursuit, desired them to call again in the morning; and here the affair ended. Strong suspicion fell on the charcoal drivers, for they had passed many of their carts just before; and such persons, as well as the peasantry of this country, are notorious robbers, whenever a convenient opportunity offers.

I shall follow up the above anecdote, with an account of another occurrence of the same nature, that took place about this time.

A French ship of war having put into Civita Vecchia, the captain, with his surgeon and another officer, engaged a carriage to take them to Rome; at one o’clock they stopped to dine at a small village, and set off again at three; soon after this they all fell into a sleep, from which they were[160] roused by four peasant-like fellows, armed with muskets, who made them get out of the coach, and lie on the ground upon their faces, one man standing sentry over each officer, while the fourth plundered the carriage; while this was proceeding, the captain ventured to propose to his companions, in French, which the banditti did not understand, that each should spring up, at a signal, and seize his guard by surprise, expressing his belief that he could overpower his man before the one from the coach could get to assist him, in which case he should be ready for his reception; the proposal was acceded to; the word given, and the attack made; after a severe struggle they succeeded in disarming the whole four, who scampered off, the Frenchmen firing after them in their retreat, and wounding one of them; they then entered Rome with the captured muskets in triumph.

On the following day, after delivering letters and arranging some private business, I visited Monte Cavallo, so named from two colossal statues representing Castor and Pollux, each holding a horse. The figures of these gods are remarkably fine antiques, the one supposed to be the production of Phidias, the other of Praxiteles, and once adorned Athens. The horses are very inferior, and of modern workmanship. Afterward I returned to dinner at my hotel, and had the[161] pleasure of meeting there Count K⸺, whom I had known at Nice. Two English ladies also dined to-day at our table d’hôte; and some American naval officers belonging to the Peacock sloop, who had been cruizing off the coast of Barbary; these gentlemen, from the similarity of their uniform, were, by some of the English, mistaken for British officers.

As I proposed to spend at least a month in Rome, and found the bustle of an hotel unpleasant, Dr. Clark did me the favour to procure me comfortable lodgings in the Piazza di Spagnia, and within a very short distance of his own residence. I cannot too strongly acknowledge the kindness of this gentleman and his lady, during my residence in this city.

On Wednesday, the fourth of April, I began, in company with two friends, to examine the remains of antiquity which abound in this city. We first directed our steps to Trajan’s pillar, in our way to which we passed a parade of his holiness’s soldiers; they were fine bodied men, but their state of discipline evidenced the degeneracy of the warriors of modern Rome.

We now ascended the pillar of Trajan, by a spiral staircase of one hundred and eighty-three steps, cut out of solid marble, twenty-three blocks of which, placed horizontally one over the other,[162] compose the column; from the summit, which is surrounded by an iron railing, there is a fine view of the city. This beautiful pillar had formerly a gilded bronze statue of the emperor Trajan placed on its summit, with a globe in his hand, containing his own ashes, which was, by Pope Sextus the Fifth, exchanged for one of St. Peter. At its lower extremity the pillar is twelve feet in diameter, gradually diminishing as it ascends to ten; the height, from the base to the top of the statue, is one hundred and thirty-three feet; the outside of the column is beautifully ornamented in basso relievo, with a representation of the Dacian war, admirably wrought on a continued spiral line from the bottom of the column to its top, as a memorial of his success in which, the Roman senate erected and dedicated this noble structure to the emperor, whose name it still bears. The spot, on which it stands, was formerly the centre of the forum of Trajan.

After this we walked over what was once the celebrated Forum Romanum, originally built by Romulus, and where the courts of justice were held. This once important square, now known by the name of the Campo Vaccino, was supposed to have been seven hundred and fifty feet in length and five hundred broad.

From hence we extended our walk to the Palatine-hill,[163] passing near the Via Sacra, which lay about eight or ten feet below us, and from which the rubbish had been cleared to make it visible; we then pursued our way to the baths of Livy; the Coliseum; and the tomb of Cestius, which is a pyramidal structure, one hundred and twenty feet in height, and ninety square at its base; it is situated adjoining to the wall of the city, very near the burial ground for foreigners, amongst the various tombs of which my companions noticed several with English inscriptions.

We now passed on to Monte Testaccio, which has derived its existence and name, from the quantities of broken vases, mixed with rubbish, which have been deposited upon its site. The top of this mound is surmounted by a cross.

Although our Ciceroni were much fatigued with their excursion, we could not forbear visiting the Tarpeian Rock, and the Pantheon. On our return, as it was too late for Francis’s table d’hôte, we dined at a trattorias, where a variety of dishes are kept ready cooked, or ready for cooking at a moment’s notice. They have also a great variety of good wines, and amongst the rest, we here tasted the Orvieto, so justly extolled as a delicious beverage, and which reminded me forcibly of good bottled Devonshire cider.

During my residence at Rome, I generally preferred[164] dining at one of these houses, as possessing some advantages over the table d’hôte; strangers find here a great facility in acquiring the language, as the conversation is carried on almost exclusively in the Italian tongue; while, at the same time, an Englishman is sure to meet with numbers of his countrymen. The present was the season of Lent, when Rome is generally thought to be badly supplied with provisions; I was not, however, conscious of any deficiency, except in the article of lamb, which is forbidden to be sold or made use of during this season; but they contrive to have young kid as a substitute, and which is made use of in great abundance. I am told that different houses of entertainment pay the pope for a licence to serve heretics, during the season of Lent, with forbidden viands.

On the following day, being Thursday, I visited the Vatican for the first time: this museum is open for public inspection every Thursday and Sunday, but it is possible to gain admittance on any other day, and also to see it in the evening by torch-light, although by a late regulation, the nocturnal parties are restricted to twelve persons at a time, as many as can see the rooms with advantage.

My feelings on entering the museum of the finest sculpture in the world, were not of that rapturous nature, which I hear every amateur of this[165] beautiful and interesting art, or even a common observer, express. No! it was not with me as with others, who, on entering the room, are struck by a collection of the finest statues bursting on their view, not knowing what first, or most to admire, being for a time lost in the confusion of delightful variety, and viewing them collectively, before they can fix their attention on any single object; how different were my feelings! for when it was announced that I was in the midst of these exquisite works of art, although my imagination was raised to the highest pitch, and well adapted to supply the deficiency of visual organs, it could but faintly convey to my mind, the impressions which an ocular inspection, as above described, must have excited. This coup d’œil, with me, was not only wanting, but I had to walk up to each statue in rotation, and listen to a tame description of its beauties. I was even not allowed the advantage of examining by the touch, as soldiers were placed in each apartment, to prevent such violation: had I been freely permitted this kind of examination, I doubt not, that I might have been as highly gratified as those who saw, for the sense of touch conveys to my mind as clear, or at least as satisfactory, ideas of the form, and I think I may add, the force of expression, as sight does to others. I did occasionally examine[166] them in this way by stealth, when I was apprised that the soldiers’ backs were turned towards me.

After leaving the Vatican, I walked with a friend in the gardens of the Villa Medici, where we met the Cardinal Pacca, to whom I had the honour of being introduced, and who behaved in the most polite and affable manner, conversing with me for some time in French.

On Saturday, the 12th of April, a criminal was guillotined in the Piazza del Popolo, for committing various robberies and murders, notwithstanding, he was only twenty-three years of age. Criminals are not here arraigned before their judge and accusers, but the charge is examined, and the sentence awarded in private; nor is the convict acquainted with the nature of his sentence, if the punishment of death is decreed, until the middle of the night before execution, when a priest gives the information, and urges him to confession, in which case, the sentence is carried into effect at nine o’clock in the morning; otherwise, if he refuses to confess, it is deferred until three in the afternoon.

In the middle of the night, of the 11th and 12th of April, a fire broke out in the house where one of my particular friends, Mr. H⸺, resided, and which compelled him to remove Mrs. H⸺, his[167] family, and valuable effects, in the first instance, into the middle of the street, and afterwards to the residence of a friend. The accident originated in the apartment of an Italian lawyer, who resided on the floor above Mr. H⸺, and, in consequence of a drunken servant dropping a candle on his straw mattress; the whole room was soon in flames, which burst out from the windows, and made a most frightful appearance, but were at length extinguished by throwing in buckets of water, and without communicating beyond the room in which they commenced. Perhaps I ought rather to say, they extinguished themselves for want of more fuel, having lasted until the few contents of the room were consumed, being prevented from extending, in consequence of the stone floors and staircase, and the thickly plastered walls. The engines were brought, and immense crowds of people assembled, evidently for amusement, for although Mr. H⸺ exerted himself to the utmost to extinguish the flames, he could not induce the by-standers to give the least assistance. In the morning, his family returned to their apartments, without having sustained any other injury than the fright.

On Sunday I attended divine service, at the English place of worship, which was a large room in the house of Mrs. L⸺. After this I visited[168] the Capitol, where I met with no one to prevent my touching the statues, &c. In the evening, we had some delightful music and singing in the Chiesa Nuova, the operatic character of which, however, impressed me more with the idea of a theatre, than a church. After this we concluded the day at Dr. C⸺’s.

We had now several rainy days, which prevented my getting out as usual. On Thursday the 12th, I again visited the Vatican, with increased pleasure, as I was enabled to recognise many of the statues as old acquaintances. On the following day, Mr. C⸺ and myself visited the churches of St. Pietro in Vinculis; Sta. Maria Maggiore; St. Martin; and the chapel of Remus.

We afterward explored the baths of Titus, the Forum, and the Coliseum. At the latter, we remained some time examining the Arena; we ascended the long staircases; traversed the encircling corridors; looked into the baker’s oven; and carried off, as sacred relics, a small piece of brick pavement, and one of the many wild plants, which grew upon the walls. During this research, a monk, attended by a number of followers, entered the Amphitheatre, took his station near the centre, and treated us with an exhibition of very correspondent character, to what had so frequently been displayed on this spot, during the[169] periods of the glory of Rome. He paced backwards and forwards upon the space of a few yards, ranting most violently, and accompanying his voice with such gesticulations and actions, that he might, by a slight effort of imagination, have been readily mistaken for a wild beast displaying on the Arena. I am almost ashamed to acknowledge, that a ludicrous comparison of former, with present times, suggested itself to our minds while he was detailing to an admiring and approving audience, in this roaring manner, the virtues of the blessed Virgin, and asserting her claims to be worshipped in preference to our Saviour himself, and every other power in heaven or on earth, above or below; the only cool spectators besides ourselves, were three German artists, who, however, paid a greater compliment to the orator than we did, for although they continued their sketches of the building, they took off their hats out of respect for the religion of the country.

The ensuing week was the holy one preceding Easter, and of course observed at Rome with extraordinary solemnity.

On the Sunday, being Palm-Sunday, the pope entered the Sistine chapel about nine o’clock, when the ceremony commences; but I shall not attempt to describe the various arrangements of the great and little palm-branches, or the number of kisses bestowed on the pontiff’s hand and toe.

On Monday we had a rainy morning, but it cleared off in the afternoon. About four o’clock the king of Naples arrived on his way from Florence, and was received with salutes of cannons, bands of music, and other honours.

Tuesday was also a rainy day, and I did not attend the ceremonies of the Roman church. To-day a select party of friends dined at Francis’s hotel, and amongst the rest a young American physician, Dr. G⸺, who had been a companion of my friend Mr. C⸺ and his son, in a felucca voyage from Naples, and for the last three weeks[171] had been laid up in the house with a fever, taken from exposure on their journey to the Malaria, or exhalations arising from the marshy grounds about the mouth of the Tiber, where they were detained two days, by the necessity of obtaining permission from Cardinal Gonsalvi to land. The vessel they had engaged, had previously been employed in the charcoal trade, and the gentlemen having ordered a quantity of clean straw to be placed in the hold as a more commodious birth, the consequence was, that the coal dust, from the motion of the vessel, worked up into the straw from the chinks between the boards, so that in the morning, when they turned out, they were astonished to find they were become as dirty and swarthy as Neapolitan sailors themselves.

There are three misereres performed in Passion week: the first was sung on Wednesday; the second on Thursday, and the last on Good Friday; all of which I attended. To describe as they merit, these exquisite pieces of vocal music, requires a power which I do not possess; they must be heard to be comprehended; it appears to me beyond the reach of art, to bring an assemblage of human voices to the perfection which was here attained; and to produce such modulations of heavenly harmony: had I not been assured to the contrary, I could not have believed but they must[172] have been assisted by the finest-toned instruments:—

Much as I had heard of the rapturous effect; it far exceeded any expectation I had formed; notwithstanding, it is unusual to find the objects of extravagant eulogy, afford a real, or proportionate, gratification.

On Good Friday, after the last miserere, we went to St. Peter’s, where a most brilliantly illuminated cross was suspended; we did not however, continue there long, being almost satiated with these raree-shows. I then had the pleasure of spending a quiet evening with my friends Mr. and Mrs. H⸺, to whose interest I had been indebted for securing my places at each of the misereres, as well as for many other kind attentions during my stay in Rome.

Easter Sunday at length arrived, which in every respect, and particularly in point of pageantry, is the greatest festival observed by the Roman church throughout the year. The two first grand ceremonies of the procession, and the pope’s benediction, I did not attend. I was present, however, at the illumination of St. Peter’s, and the[173] exhibition of fire-works at the castle of St. Angelo; but, alas! denied the gratification of seeing the brilliant spectacles. I cannot, however, resist the inclination to transcribe the following animated description of these enchanting scenes, as well as the preceding ceremonies, extracted from a late publication, entitled “Rome in the Nineteenth Century.”

“On this day the church puts forth all her pomp and splendour. The pope assists at high mass, and there is a procession, which, seen to the highest advantage in that noble church, is as grand as any such procession can be. A pen was erected for the ladies on the left of the high altar, for wherever the pope comes, they are always cooped up for fear of accidents. Luckily, however, it was unprovided with a grate, so they could see more to perfection. It was, in all respects, a happy liberation from the gloomy imprisonment they had been sustaining, day after day, behind the grate, in the sistine chapel. The sable robes that they wore during the last week, were now universally thrown aside, and the gayer—the more catholicly orthodox—were they.

“The church was lined with the Guarda Nobili, in their splendid uniforms of gold and scarlet, and nodding plumes of white ostrich feathers; and the Swiss guards, with their polished cuirasses and[174] steel helmets. The great centre aisle was kept clear by a double wall of armed men, for the grand procession, the approach of which, after much expectation, was proclaimed by the sound of a trumpet, from the farther end of the church. A long band of priests advanced, loaded with still augmenting magnificence, as they ascended to the higher orders. Cloth of gold and embroidery of gold and silver, and crimson velvet, and mantles of spotted ermine, and flowing trains, and attendant train-bearers, and mitres, and crucifixes glittering with jewels, and priests, and patriarchs, and bishops, and cardinals, dazzled our astonished eyes, and filled the long length of St. Peter’s. Lastly came the pope in his crimson chair of state, borne on the shoulders of twenty Palefrenieri, arrayed in robes of white, and wearing the tiara, or triple crown of the conjoined Trinity, with a canopy of cloth of silver, floating over his head, and preceded by two men, carrying enormous fans, composed of large plumes of ostrich feathers, mounted on long gilded wands. He stopped to pay his adorations to the miraculous Madonna, in her chapel, about half way up; and this duty, which he never omits, being performed, he was slowly borne past the high altar, liberally giving his benediction with the twirl of his fingers as he passed. They sat him down upon a magnificent[175] stool, in front of the altar, on which he knelt, and the crown being taken off, and the cardinals taking off their little red scull-caps, and all kneeling in a row, he was supposed to pray. Having remained in this attitude a few minutes, they took him to the chair prepared for him, on the right of the throne. There he read, or seemed to read, something out of a book, for it was impossible, that without his spectacles, he could really make it out; and then he was again taken to the altar, on which his tiara was placed; and bareheaded, he repeated, or as by courtesy they call it, sang a small part of the service, threw up clouds of incense, and was removed to the crimson canopied throne, and high mass was celebrated by a cardinal and two bishops, at which he assisted, that is, he got up and sat down, in particular parts.

“During the whole service, I could not help observing, that the only part of the congregation who where in the least attentive, were the small body of English, whom curiosity, and perhaps sense of decorum, rendered so. All the Italians seemed to consider it quite as much of a pageant as ourselves, but neither a new, nor an interesting one; and they were walking about, and talking, and interchanging pinches of snuff with each other, exactly as if it had been a place of amusement,[176] till the tinkling of a little bell, which announced the elevation of the Host, changed the scene. Every knee was now bent to the earth; every voice was hushed; the reversed arms of the military rung with an instantaneous clang on the marble pavement, as they sunk on the ground, and all was still as death. This did not last above two minutes. The Host was swallowed; and so begun and ended the only thing that bore even the smallest outward aspect of religion. They brought the pope, however, again to the footstool to pray. Two cardinals always support him, some priestly attendants bear up his train, and others busy themselves about his drapery, while two or three others put on and off his tiara and mitre; and so conduct him to and fro, between the altar and the throne, where he sits at the top of his magnificent temple, exactly like an idol dressed up to be worshipped. The long silver robes, the pale, dead, inanimate countenance, and helpless appearance of the good old man, tend still more to give him the air of a thing without any will of its own, but which is carried about, and set in motion, and managed by the priests, and taught by them to make certain movements.

“At last they put him again into the chair, set the crown upon his head, and, preceded by the great ostrich feather fans, he was borne out of[177] the church. We made all possible expedition up to the loggia,—a temporary sort of gallery, erected on the top of the colonnade, opposite to that occupied by the royal families,—and secured places in the front row. An expecting crowd had long covered the broad expanded steps, and platform of the church, and spread itself over the piazza. The military now poured out of St. Peter’s and formed an immense ring, before its spacious front, behind which the horse guards were drawn up, and an immense number of carriages, filled with splendidly dressed women, and thousands of people on foot, were assembled. But the multitude almost shrunk into insignificance in the vast area of the piazza; and neither piety, curiosity, nor even that all universal gregarious passion, that makes people crowd wherever there is a crowd, had collected together sufficient numbers to fill it. The tops of the colonnades all round, were, however thronged with spectators; and it was a curious sight to see such a mixture of all ranks and nations,—from the coronetted heads of kings, to the poor cripple who crawled along the pavement,—assembled together to await the blessing of an old man, their fellow-mortal, now tottering on the brink of the grave. Not the least picturesque figures among the throng, were the Contadini, who, in every variety of curious costume,[178] had flocked in from their distant mountain villages, to receive the blessing of the holy father, and whose bright and eager countenances, shaded by their long dark hair, were turned to the balcony where the pope was to appear. At length the two white ostrich feather fans, the forerunners of his approach, were seen, and he was borne forward on his throne above the shoulders of the cardinals and bishops, who filled the balcony. After an audible prayer, he arose, and elevating his hands to heaven, invoked a solemn benediction upon the assembled multitude, and all the people committed to his charge. Every head was uncovered, the soldiers, and many of the spectators, sunk on their knees on the pavement to receive the blessing. That blessing was given with impressive solemnity, but with little gesture and parade. Immediately the thundering of cannon from the castle of St. Angelo, and the peal of bells from St. Peter’s, proclaimed the joyful tidings to the skies. The pope was borne out, and the people rose from their knees; but at least one half of them had never knelt at all, which greatly diminished the impressive effect of the whole. I forgot to say, that, after the benediction, several papers were thrown down by one of the cardinals, which contained, I understand, the indulgence granted to the different churches, and a most pious scuffle[179] ensued among the people to catch them. The pope’s benediction this day, the Italians say, extends all over the world, but on Thursday, it only goes to the gates of Rome. On Thursday too, previous to the benediction, one of the cardinals curses all Jews, Turks, and heretics, ‘by bell, book, and candle.’ The little bell is rung, the curse is sung from the book, and the lighted taper thrown down amongst the people. The pope’s benediction immediately follows upon all true believers. At Ave Maria we took our station on the right of the farther extremity of the piazza of St. Peter’s, so as to lose the deformity of the dark dingy Vatican Palace. The gathering shades of night, rendered the illumination every moment more brilliant.

“The whole of this immense church,—its columns, capitals, cornices, and pediments,—the beautiful swell of the lofty dome, towering into heaven, the ribs converging into one point at top, surmounted by the lantern of the church, and crowned by the cross,—all were designed in lines of fire; and the vast sweep of the circling colonnades, in every rib, line, mould, cornice, and column, were resplendent in the same beautiful light.

“While we were gazing upon it, suddenly a bell chimed. On the cross, at the top, waved a brilliant light, as if wielded by some celestial hand,[180] and instantly ten thousand globes, and stars of vivid fire, seemed to roll spontaneously along the building, as if by magic; and self-kindled, it blazed in a moment into one dazzling flood of glory. Fancy herself, in her most sportive mood, could scarcely have conceived so wonderful a spectacle, as the instantaneous illumination of this magnificent fabric. The agents by whom it was effected were unseen, and it seemed to be the work of enchantment. In the first instance, the illuminations had appeared to be complete, and one could not dream, that thousands, and tens of thousands of lamps were still to be illuminated. Their vivid blazes harmonized beautifully with the softer, milder light of the lanternoni.

“The brilliant glow of the whole illumination shed a rosy light upon the fountains, whose silver fall, and ever-playing showers, accorded well with the magic of the scene. Viewed from the Trinita de’ Monti, its effect was unspeakably beautiful. It seemed to be an enchanted palace, hung in air, and called up by the wand of some invisible spirit.

“We did not, however, drive to the Trinita de’ Monti, till after the exhibition of the girandola, or great fireworks, from the castle of St. Angelo, which commences by a tremendous explosion, that represented the raging eruption of a volcano. Red sheets of fire seemed to blaze upwards into[181] the glowing heavens, and then to pour down their liquid stream upon the earth. This was followed by an incessant, and complicated display of every varied device that imagination could figure,—one changing into another, and the beauty of the first, effaced by that of the last. Hundreds of immense wheels turned round with a velocity that almost seemed as if demons were whirling them, letting fall thousands of hissing dragons, and scorpions, and fiery snakes, whose long convolutions, darting forward as far as the eye could reach in every direction, at length vanished into air. Fountains, and jets of fire, threw up their blazing cascades into the skies.

“The whole vault of heaven shone with the vivid fires, and seemed to receive into itself innumerable stars and suns, which shooting up into it, in brightness almost insufferable,—vanished—like earth-born hopes. The reflection in the depth of the calm clear water of the Tiber, was scarcely less beautiful than the spectacle itself, and the whole ended in a tremendous burst of fire, which, while it lasted, almost seemed to threaten conflagration to the world.

“The expense of the illumination of St. Peter’s, and of the girandola, when repeated two successive evenings, as they invariably are at the festival of St. Peter, is one thousand crowns; when only[182] exhibited one night, they cost seven hundred. Eighty men were employed in the instantaneous illuminations of the lamps, which to us seemed the work of enchantment. They were so posted as to be unseen.”

The conclusion of these ceremonies impresses one forcibly, with the same feelings as the termination of a theatrical performance, when the green curtain descends, and conceals from view the various actors of the drama, all as yet retaining their appropriate situations, and ready to recommence the exhibition, when the appointed period again comes round; while the spectators hasten away to their respective homes carrying with them vivid ideas of the pageantry with which they have been amused: thus was it with Rome, which, like a vast amphitheatre, now began to pour forth in all directions, the crowds of visitors, whom this scene of pleasure, or sentiments of devotion, had attracted.

It was not a little interesting to contrast these religious spectacles of modern, with the gigantic and martial amusements of ancient Rome; nor is it possible to receive otherwise than a melancholy impression, of the comparative littleness of the former, as well as the mistaken policy, which has perverted the pure simplicity of a religion, primitively plain and unadorned as that of Christianity,[183] into the ground-work, and vehicle, of affected ceremonial and gorgeous pageantry, for the purpose of enslaving the human mind. Nor, after all, does any part of this imposing scene strongly affect the imagination, so as to realize the ideal expectation of its participators, except indeed the all powerful and sublime misereres; the illumination of St. Peter’s; and the fireworks of St. Angelo. These, indeed, work upon the mind with magic charms, and transport it into a fairy world, beyond the limits of mortality.

I had a great desire to ascend to the summit of St. Peter’s, notwithstanding a prohibition had lately been issued against persons going up to the cross, on account, it was said, of a young English midshipman having ascended late one evening, and attached privately to it an union Jack, which he had carried in his pocket; so that next morning the British flag was seen flying over the once mighty city of Rome. I should rather however imagine, that the prohibition arose from fear of accidents.

On leaving the church, we ascended a broad staircase formed of stone steps, so easy of ascent, that you might have rode up or down with perfect safety, which led to the upper part of the body of the church, whence its dome springs, and where you are astonished by the vast extent of the roof,[184] with ranges of small houses and workshops upon it. Stone seats are also placed for the accommodation of visitors, from whence may be seen the cupolas of the side chapels, which are invisible from below. I determined, however, to proceed into the ball, which every one is permitted to do.

From this point we ascended the wonderful, and stupendous dome, by a succession of staircases, each terminating in a gallery, from whence a noble view of the city and surrounding country is to be seen.

The staircases gradually decreased as we ascended, until, at length, they became so contracted, as scarcely to be capable of admitting a man of more than ordinary size, and who, if he did succeed in reaching the copper ladder which leads immediately into the ball, must have then disencumbered himself of his dress, to have made good his entry into that place.

On arriving within the ball, we found it capacious enough to contain several persons, and were told that no less than from sixteen to twenty had been within it at the same time; but they must have been of the same quality with Pharaoh’s lean kine; or, as I have heard Scotchmen express it, “a heap of fellows.”

During my stay in Rome, I frequently repeated my visits to its more interesting points, as the Capitol, St. Peter’s, and the Pantheon, and traversed[185] the city and its neighbourhood; by which repetitions I imagine that I gained almost as correct ideas, as if I had actually seen these objects.

That beautiful and venerable building, the Pantheon, must not be passed over without a more particular notice.

This temple, which from its round form, has obtained the name of the Rotunda, is a hundred and fifty feet in height, and about the same in diameter; it is divided into eight parts, one of which forms the entrance gate: each of the other seven compartments, consists of two fluted Corinthian pillars, and as many pilasters of Giallo Antico. The capitals and bases are of white marble, and support a circular entablature. The wall is perpendicular for half the height of the temple, and then gradually slopes off as it ascends, forming a dome, the centre of which consists of an aperture twenty-five feet in diameter.

There are no windows, the above opening at the top, admitting a sufficiency of light, and producing a finer effect than windows could have done. No great inconvenience can result from this opening; the conical form of the temple prevents the rain from falling near the walls where the altars now are, and where the statues of the[186] gods were formerly placed. The rain which falls in the middle, immediately passes through holes which perforate a large piece of porphyry, that forms the centre of the pavement; the whole of which consists of various pieces of marble, agate, and other materials, which have been picked up from the ruins, and now compose a singular kind of Mosaic work.

The portico was added by Agrippa, the son-in-law of Augustus; it is supported by sixteen pieces of granite, five feet in diameter, and each consisting of single pieces. Upon the frieze in the front, is an inscription relative to its founder.

Some are of opinion that the Pantheon is much more ancient than the Augustan age, and that the portico, which is the only part they admit to be the work of Agrippa, though beautiful in itself, does not correspond with the simplicity of the body of the temple.

But as it is not possible that I can convey any thing like a correct idea of its beauties and magnificence, I shall venture to transcribe the following account of this celebrated structure.

“Of the surviving edifices at Rome, the principal is the Pantheon itself. It still retains its majestic portico, and presents its graceful dome uninjured; the pavement laid by Agrippa and trodden by Augustus, still forms its floor; the compartments, and fluted pillars of rich marble,[187] that originally lined its walls, still adorn its inward circumference; the deep tints that age has thrown over it, only contribute to raise our dignity and augment our veneration; and the traveller enters its portal, through which thrice twenty generations have flowed in succession, with a mixture of awe and religious veneration. Yet the Pantheon has suffered greatly during the last eighteen centuries. The flight of steps that conducted to its threshold, the marbles that clothed it, the statues that graced its cornice, the bronze that blazed on its dome, that vaulted its portico, and formed its sculptured doors, and the silver that lined the compartments of its roof within, and dazzled the spectator with its brightness, all have disappeared.”

My observations on this interesting city having extended themselves beyond my expectation, I shall decline entering into any description of the society and manners of its inhabitants, as also of the state of the arts and science of modern Rome, since these points have been so frequently and ably treated of by other authors.

Having now partaken freely of the rich intellectual feast, which this venerable city affords, I prepared, in the first instance, to return to Florence, getting my passport signed for that purpose, and arranging with an intelligent friend, the Reverend ⸺ C⸺, to have the pleasure of accompanying him to that city; but the nearer the[188] moment of our proposed departure approached, the more intense did I find an inclination to visit Naples. This disposition was confirmed by the opinion of Dr. Clarke, that the sulphurous vapour-baths of that place would be serviceable to my health, although he strictly urged me not to continue there longer than a month, in order to escape the injurious effects of the malaria arising from the Pontine marshes, which would after that time become aggravated by the heats of summer, and to which I must have been exposed on my return, in case I should take the land route through Rome; it is true they might have been avoided, by making a sea voyage to Leghorn, as I in some measure contemplated.

Having thus been induced to alter my arrangements, I had my passports made out accordingly, and secured my place in a cabriolet, which was to set out on the following morning.

I was provided with some letters of introduction, and amongst the rest, one to Mr. C⸺, a gentleman whom I afterwards felt assured, as it proved, had been a most intimate friend of my own some years before, at which time we crossed the Atlantic together from North America to England. I was delighted with the supposed recognition, and in the sequel it will be seen, that the renewal of our friendship proved most gratifying, and advantageous to me.

Taking our leave of Rome early on the morning of the first of May, we reached Albano for breakfast, distant sixteen miles. Our party from Rome, besides myself, consisted of an Italian gentleman, a German, and a Frenchman; we were also accompanied by a lady, said to be a princess, and attended by a handsome man-servant; after breakfast we received another and our last passenger, who was a Roman officer. My companion in the cabriolet was the German, whom I took to be an artist, but who was by no means communicative, although he had some knowledge of the French, and a perfect one of the Italian language.

At four o’clock we reached Veletri, where it was intended we should rest for the night; but, notwithstanding this early hour, we were not indulged with supper until eight o’clock, and then it was too scanty to satisfy our hunger, I believe in consequence of the arrival of two English ladies, shortly before it was served up for us. In the interim, we amused ourselves with exploring the[190] city, which my companions reported to be a fine old town, but neglected, and thinly inhabited. After supper, I retired to the hardest bed which I have met with on my tour; but passengers in voitures are not to consider themselves entitled to the best apartments; the Roman officer, Frenchman and myself, slept in one room; the princess and her servant, I was informed, occupied another; while the German was probably quartered with the vittureno.

In the morning at five o’clock, we left Veletri; and, as it was fine, I walked some distance in company with the German. We had now to travel along the famous Via Appia, originally a paved causeway extending from Rome to Capua, and constructed by Appius Claudius the censor, in the year of Rome, 441; the original bed still remains perfect in various places. We soon, at the village of Cisterna, entered upon the Pontine marshes, formed by an accumulation of the waters from various streams arising on the neighbouring mountains, and prevented from running off, by a want of declivity in the ground, so as to constitute a swampy fen, formerly thirty miles in length and eight broad, and which is still in some degree, a fertile source of infectious miasma, which not unfrequently spreads disease and destruction into the very heart of the capital itself. Through many[191] centuries, the whole energies of the Roman people, under their various consuls, emperors, and pontiffs, were in vain called into action to drain them; the glory of success was reserved for the late Pope Pius VI. who, in the year 1788, effectually removed this scourge of Rome. The Appian road runs through the middle of these marshes, bounded on the sides by canals, and shaded by double rows of elms and poplars. In the middle of the marshes we stopped to breakfast about eleven o’clock, at a very poor inn. Soon after which a carriage arrived containing the two English ladies who had slept at Veletri at the same inn where we did; but as they had taken breakfast previous to their departure, they were not induced to leave their carriage.

About two or three miles before arriving at Terracina, we passed the celebrated fountain of Feronia, situated within a few paces of the road, and where the goddess of that name, formerly had a temple dedicated to her, but which has now disappeared,—not a vestige,—not even a stone remaining; while the once sacred grove by which it was surrounded, has dwindled away; one single tree hanging a solitary mourner over the violated fountain. It was here, that this goddess of liberty, and donatrix of personal freedom, bestowed the boon of emancipation upon the slaves of ancient[192] Rome, and which was confirmed by peculiar ceremonies performed at her altar. The divinity of the place—unlike its temple—imperishable and immortal—has taken flight to a more genial soil, from whence it is diffusing blessings over the greater portion of a once suffering world. Yes! Spirit of Liberty!

We arrived at Terracina at eight o’clock, and at five in the morning recommenced our journey. After travelling five or six miles, we crossed the barriers between the Roman and Neapolitan states, where our passports were examined by the commandant of a small fort placed there. After this, the country expands itself into the vale of Fondi, the mountains retiring in such way, as to form a beautiful amphitheatre, richly clothed with luxuriant and diversified woods. Our road passed through the middle of this vale; a fine lake formed by the waters of innumerable mountain streams, which run through the plain, bounding it on the right,—beyond which lay the sea.

[193]

At Fondi, a small town situated in the above vale, the Appian road exists in its original state, composed of broad rough flag stones closely laid together, but without any cement interposed between them. The town of Fondi, like most southern towns, has a gloomy appearance, in consequence of the narrowness of the streets, and unglazed state of the windows. We now passed through Castelone, and after descending a steep hill, reached Mola de Gaieta, where we breakfasted at an excellent inn, delightfully situated, and commanding a fine view of the sea. Near this place, on the right of the road, we passed an ancient tower, said to be the tomb of Cicero, erected on the spot where he was murdered.

“Mola is in itself an insignificant place, but it derives interest, if not grandeur from its beautiful site; it consists of one street, formed by the Via Appia on the side, at the foot of a range of broken picturesque hills and mountains, covered with corn, vines, and olive-trees, and topped with rocks, churches, and towers. The waters that stream from these hills, unite and gush forth in a fountain close to the town. The most conspicuous and striking object from the town of Mola, is the fortress of Gaieta, crowning the rocky promontory of the same name, with its white ramparts and batteries.”

[194]

On leaving Gaieta, we passed over the river Garigliano by means of a wooden bridge. Our road after this, lay through the defiles of Mount Massicus, which communicates with those of Callicula, a mountain covered with forests, and we reached St. Agado about seven in the evening, when we took up our quarters for the night; here I was compelled to sleep in the same room with a man whom we had accidentally taken up on the road, and to which, being satisfied he was an indifferent, character, I at first strenuously objected, but finding I could get no other accommodation, I at length acceded, on condition that a third bed in the room should be also occupied; which was then filled by the servant of the Italian lady.

We set out from St. Agado at four o’clock in the morning, and at ten reached Capua for breakfast; here our vittureno drove us into the stable-yard, and left us to get our breakfast where we could, for the inn was fully occupied by Austrian officers, who were quartered at this place: there was no resource, but to put up with a bad breakfast at a miserable coffee-house.

We were informed, that an English carriage had been stopped by banditti the preceding evening, about a post on the other side of St. Agado, one of the horses shot dead, and their courier wounded; but the robbers becoming alarmed,[195] took to flight before they had secured their booty. We congratulated ourselves upon an escape, having passed over the same ground only two hours before this actually occurred.

Capua is a small unimportant town, distinct from the ancient city of that name, which was situated at some distance, where remains of an amphitheatre are still visible, and which before the building of that of Vespasian, was considered superior to any in Rome itself; indeed old Capua is said, at one time, to have vied with Rome and Carthage themselves, in size and magnificence. It was here that the victorious army of Hannibal, is said to have been enervated by the luxuries of Italy. The alliance which this fated city formed with the Carthaginians, in opposition to its former mistress, proved its ruin; in the spirit of insulted majesty and retributive justice, it was besieged by the Consular armies. In vain did Hannibal exert his high military talents for the relief of his new friends; he could not force the Romans to abandon the siege, and at length the unfortunate Capuans were compelled to bow under the yoke of their conquerors.

Capua is distant sixteen miles from Naples, the intermediate country comprising one of the most fertile tracts of Italy, upon which nature has abundantly lavished her beauties and advantages.

[196]

About half way to Naples, we passed through the neat and modern town of Averso, remarkable for having one of the best regulated and most interesting lunatic asylums in the world, the results of which, as tending to the restoration of the patients, have been most felicitous. The system of treatment embraces an extended plan of amusement, of which the charms of music form an important feature.

We reached Naples about four o’clock in the afternoon, and after the customary formalities of examining the baggage and passports, the former of which was much facilitated by some trifling pecuniary arguments, we were allowed to proceed to our respective quarters.

“Vedi Napoli e po mori,[1]” says a patriotic proverb of the country, in which I was now residing; for the good people flatter themselves there is nothing in the world worth seeing afterward: a farther instance of their national partiality is contained in another adage, expressive of the following sentiment: “When a Neapolitan is out of humour, he has only to open his window and look at his country, to restore his complacency.” And yet, alas! how wretchedly have these people defended that country!

Whatever might be the sensations with which I was affected on entering this city, produced by my conceptions of its beauty and magnificence, I could not avoid feeling rejoiced, at the circumstance of having reached in safety, this boundary of my proposed pilgrimage, and the ne plus ultra of the generality of European travellers. But it was some time before I could get comfortable accommodations. Our driver probably imagining I should not be able to see into his stratagem, took every other passenger to his destined point, before he would attend to myself, because the Largo Castello, to which I[198] had directed him, happened to be near his own quarters; consequently, it was six o’clock before I arrived, and then I had the mortification to find the house too full to receive me. I was compelled to search for apartments elsewhere, and only with great difficulty at length succeeded, and was happy, after taking refreshment, to get into a more comfortable bed than I had met with since I left Rome.

Naples, or Napoli, was originally called Parthenope, a name said to have been given by the Phœnicians, in consequence of its delightful situation. This city is so ancient, that its original foundation is involved in the obscurity of the earliest periods. It is reported to have been founded by the Argonauts, thirteen centuries before the Christian era, and afterwards strengthened and enriched, by colonies from Rhodes, Athens, and Chalcis.

The impression I received on entering this city, was that of commercial importance, from the bustle and confusion which I heard in some of the streets through which we passed: but as all strangers are, in the first instance, forcibly struck by the beauty of its situation, and magnificent appearance, I cannot do better than quote the description given of it by a favourite author, Dr. Moore.

“Naples is supposed to be founded by the Greeks. The charming situation they have chosen, is one proof among thousands of the fine taste of that ingenious people.

[199]

“The bay is about thirty miles in circumference, and twelve in diameter; it has been named Crater, from its supposed resemblance to a bowl. This bowl is ornamented with the most beautiful foliage, with vines, with olives, mulberry and orange-trees, with hills, dales, towns, villas, and villages.

“At the bottom of the bay of Naples, the town is built in the form of an amphitheatre, sloping from the hills towards the sea.

“If, from the town, you turn your eyes to the east, you see the rich plains leading to Mount Vesuvius and Portici. If you look to the west, you have the grotto of Pausilippo, the mountain on which Virgil’s tomb is placed, the fields leading to Puzzoli, and the coast of Baia. On the north, are the fertile hills, gradually rising from the shore to the Campagna Felice. On the south is the bay, confined by the two promontaries of Misenum and Minerva; the view being terminated by the island of Procida, Ischia, and Caprea; and as you ascend to the castle of St. Elmo, which is situated on a mountain of the same name, you have all these objects under your eye at once, with the addition of a great part of the Campagna.

“Independent of its happy situation, Naples is a very beautiful city. The style of architecture it may be confessed, is superior to what prevails at Rome; but though Naples cannot vie with that[200] city, in the number of palaces, or in the grandeur or magnificence of the churches, the private houses, in general, are better built, and more uniformly convenient; the streets are broader, and better paved. No street in Rome equals in beauty the Strada di Toledo at Naples; and still less can any of them be compared with those beautiful streets which open to the bay. This is the native country of the Zephyrs; here the excessive heat of the sun is often tempered with sea breezes, and with gales, wafting the perfumes of the Campagna Felice.

“The houses in general are five or six stories high, and flat at the top; on which are placed numbers of flower vases, or fruit-trees, in boxes of earth, producing a very gay and agreeable effect.

“The garrison stationed at the fortress of St. Elmo have the entire command of the town, and could lay it in ashes at pleasure, being built on the mountain of the same name. A little lower on the same mountain is a convent of Carthusians. The situation of this convent is as advantageous and beautiful as can be imagined; and much expense has been lavished to render the building, the apartments, and the gardens, equal to the situation.”

On the morning which succeeded my arrival, (Saturday, March 5th), after engaging a servitore de piazza, and delivering some letters of introduction, I had the good fortune to arrange with one[201] gentleman, Dr. K⸺, whom I called upon with the latter view, to be accommodated with apartments in his house; and farther, we agreed to mess together, whenever it suited our convenience to dine at home; under which arrangement, we continued to live in all possible harmony, during the remainder of my stay in Naples.

As the doctor dined out on the following day, I preferred taking my repast at a trattoria’s, called the Villa de Paregi, and had the unexpected pleasure of being placed between two gentlemen, brothers, whom I had known at Nice. Unfortunately, they were quitting Naples that evening: I spent, however, a couple of hours very agreeably with them, at their lodgings.

In the course of my walk on the following day, I met my friend Lady C⸺ with Miss L⸺, and afterwards dined with Dr. K⸺ at the Villa di Roma, where I had the gratification of finding Count K⸺ whom I have before mentioned, as well as two or three other acquaintances. I was much pleased with the situation of this trattoria’s house. It stands by the sea-side, in that part of Naples termed Santa Lucia; there is a room built directly over the sea, where one not only enjoys the refreshing breeze, but also the additional cooling sensation of the waves under-foot. The entertainment of the house is excellently good, and after taking refreshment, it is delightful[202] to walk by the sea-side, or a boat may be had to sail upon the bay if it is preferred.

On the next day, Mr. C⸺, the gentleman whom I have mentioned as being acquainted with formerly in America, called upon me. I had been at his house, but did not find him at home; I left however, my letter of introduction. This reminds me of some lines of one of the most pleasing poets of our day, whose society I have had the pleasure of enjoying, written under somewhat similar circumstances.

We walked together to the Grotto del Piede, and I had the pleasure, and I may say advantage, of finding him, in addition to his original stock of general information, become a most intelligent and agreeable Ciceroni. We measured the entrance of the grotto, and found it seven good paces; it extends in length, nearly a mile through the mountain, to its termination on the other side. At certain points in the tunnel are apertures, which admit an imperfect light from above; the deficiency is supplied by tapers placed near the centre, which at the same time serve to illuminate a figure of the Virgin Mary.

After my walk I took an artificial sulphur bath,[203] and in the evening drank from the spring at St. Lucia, which is impregnated with sulphuretted hydrogen; I proposed continuing this plan occasionally during my residence here. After this, I dined with Lady C⸺, and in the evening took a drive with the family on the Strada Nuova.

I had arranged with Mr. C⸺ to accompany him, and two Neapolitan gentlemen, to the royal palace at Caserta, which we had the prospect of seeing to advantage, as the king was yet at Rome, and his chief agent at that place, brother to one of our companions. We fixed on Saturday the 12th for our excursion. We left Naples between four and five in the morning, and arrived at Caserta about eight o’clock, being distance of fifteen miles. In the first place, we inspected a smaller palace at St. Lucia, about a mile distant from the large one, where his Majesty generally resides in perfect retirement. The house is small, and by no means well furnished; but in one room we noticed one of the greatest luxuries of a hot climate, a marble bath, twelve or fourteen feet square, and railed round, with little gates leading to the steps by which you descend into it. We did not prolong our stay at this palace, which contains little worth seeing, but retiring to the house of our companion’s brother, were regaled with an excellent breakfast, but rather a peculiar one; the first part consisted of eggs, cream and other[204] cheeses, with radishes, rolls and butter, and excellent wines; after which, coffee was introduced, and then a variety of fresh and preserved fruits, with two kinds of the finest liqueurs, one of which was said to be only made at the convent of St. Rosa, probably by the hands of fair nuns, at least, whether this was the case or not, the idea gave an additional zest to the gout. It may seem inconsistent, that nuns and monks should employ themselves in the composition of any thing to intoxicate the brain, and contribute to gross and worldly enjoyments; but, I believe, it is almost to them exclusively, that we are indebted for the introduction of aqua vita, and other strong liquors, one of the earliest receipts for making which will be found in the Rosa Anglica of John of Gaddesden, a celebrated medical monk, and the first court physician appointed in England, at the time of Edward the Second; John is, however, so cautious respecting it, that he begs the secret may neither be divulged to women or laymen, or the delicious compound tasted by them, unless a handsome fee has been first paid for the gratification.

After breakfast we visited the king’s manufactory of silks and velvets, in which eight hundred persons are employed; the works and spinning machines are conducted upon similar principles with those of Lyons and Spitalfields; in short, the director has passed some years at both these[205] places, in order to attain a thorough acquaintance with the various processes. As far as I could judge, the quality and texture of the articles manufactured here, were equal to any I had examined in England or France. The larger wheels are, however, not put into motion by the action of steam or water, but by two women walking within them. The manufacturers reside in the adjoining village of Santa Lucia, and are regulated by particular laws, and have privileges different from what are possessed in any other parts of the kingdom, and which were given them by the present king in his own hand-writing.

We now proceeded through the royal grounds, which are abundantly stocked with game of every kind, to San Sylvestre, where is the king’s dairy, and a small house, called his hunting box, situated in the middle of a beautiful park well planted with the chesnut, and fine young oaks. After this we visited the gardens, stored with the choicest fruit-trees, and ornamented with flowers of every description. We here found, as guards, two beautiful mastiffs, who were said to be in royal pay, each receiving six ducats per month, which is wholly expended in provisions for them, as they happen to require no other clothing than what nature has liberally provided.

After this we passed through a woody walk to the cascade, formed by the waters from the Ponte[206] Madeloni, six miles distant, which I shall hereafter describe. This cascade issuing from a reservoir situated on an eminence termed Gazzano, is precipitated into a plain, where, formed into a long straight canal well stocked with mullet, and losing its rapidity, it is conducted by a succession of artificial falls to the palace; from whence it is conveyed by pipes under-ground to Naples, affording a supply of the best water which that city possesses.

After a most delightful walk, enhanced by the fineness of the day, we reached the palace of Caserta, said to be the largest royal residence in Europe, and which we found a truly noble and magnificent structure. The building comprises nearly a square, and as the kitchens and offices are under-ground, there is as much contained beneath, as above the surface. After passing through a magnificent hall, we ascended a marble staircase, fine without a parallel, the massy balustrade composed of the richest workmanship, and of the whitest marble, said to be taken from an ancient temple near Naples. The entrance upon the staircase on each side is guarded by a lion of the same description of marble.

At the head of the first flight of stairs, apartments branch off in different directions, which, however, were only slightly furnished. The first room we entered was a chapel, most elegantly although only partially fitted up. After this we[207] were ushered into a suit of spacious saloons and bed-chambers, with baths, &c.

The ground-floor contains a beautiful theatre, on the model of the present one of St. Carlos, and so contrived as to admit of a side being thrown open, to exhibit the natural scenery of the country around. This palace also has a circular road from the bottom to the top, to allow the king to ride up or down at pleasure.

Our time was too short, to enable us to take more than a cursory view of this immense pile of building, as we had determined to visit the aqueduct of Madeloni, before our return to Naples, and which was some miles out of the direct road.

The palace of Caserta was commenced by Charles III. of Spain, in the year 1757, under the celebrated architect Vanvitelli, and is not complete at the present day. I shall finish my account of it with the following description from Dr. Moore.

“This palace is built on a plain where ancient Capua stood. It was thought prudent to found a building, on which such sums of money were to be lavished, at a considerable distance from Mount Vesuvius. It were to be wished, that the contents of the cabinet of Portici were removed from the same dangerous neighbourhood. That he might not be limited in ground for the gardens, may have been his Spanish majesty’s motive for choosing that his palace should be at a distance[208] from Naples; and that it might not be exposed to insult from an enemy’s fleet, was probably the reason that determined him to place it at a distance from the sea.

“This immense building is of a rectangular form, seven hundred and fifty English feet, by five hundred and eighty; about one hundred and twelve feet high, comprehending five habitable stories, which contain such a number of apartments as will accommodate the most numerous court without any accessary buildings.

“The rectangle is divided into four courts, each of about two hundred and fifty-two feet, by one hundred and seventy. In each of the two principal fronts, are three corresponding gates, forming three openings, which pierce the whole building. The middle gate forms the entry to a magnificent portico, through which the coaches drive. In the middle of that, and in the centre of the edifice, there is a vestibule, of an octagonal form, which opens into the four grand courts at four sides of the octagon; two other sides open into the portico, one to the staircase; and at the eighth side there is a statue of Hercules crowned by victory with this inscription;

VIRTUS POST FORTIA FACTA CORONAT.

The grand staircase is adorned with the richest marble; the upper vestibule to which you ascend[209] by the grand staircase, is an octagon also, and surrounded by twenty-four pillars of yellow marble, each of which is one piece of eighteen feet high, without including the pedestals or capital.”

After quitting the palace, we were detained some time by dinner at the village of Caserta, and which our exertions had made indispensable; after this we visited the governor, a friend of one of our companions, who received us with politeness, and paid a high compliment to the discipline and bravery of the British army, which he had witnessed in Calabria and Sicily.

We did not arrive at the Aqueduct before the evening began to close in, and our driver, in consequence of the risk of banditti, became solicitous for our returning to Naples, now seventeen miles distant. We descended however from our carriage, and walked under one of the arches, followed by a number of beggars and Ciceroni. This wonderful structure consists of three rows of arches, elevated over each other, and filling up an extensive chasm between two approximating mountains, over which it conveys a whole river of the purest water, the channel for which is about four feet wide, and covered over by an excellent road of sufficient breadth to allow carriages of every description to pass.

The lower tier consists of nineteen, the second of twenty-seven, and the upper one of forty-three[210] arches, and the whole built of brick from the designs of Vanvitelli, in magnitude and effect surpassing all similar works of ancient or modern construction. Of the former we may in some measure gain an estimate by drawing a comparison between the present and the famous Roman aqueduct, the Pont de Guard near Nismes, of which I may give the following description.

“It was raised in the Augustan age, by the Roman colony, at Nismes, to convey a stream of water between two mountains, for the use of that city. It stands over the river Gardon, which is a beautiful pastoral stream, roaring among rocks, which form a number of pretty natural cascades, and over-shadowed on each side with trees and shrubs, which greatly add to the rural beauties of the scene. This work consists of three bridges, or tier of arches, one over another; the first of six, the second of eleven, and the third of thirty-six. The height, comprehending the aqueduct at the top, amounts to one hundred and forty-seven feet three inches; and the length between the two mountains which it unites, extends to 723 feet. The order of the architecture is the Tuscan, but the symmetry of it is inconceivable.”

Thus it will be seen that the Ponte di Madeloni loses nothing in comparison, as respects its height, and length, and number of arches, in all of which points it exceeds the Pont de Guard; as to architectural[211] qualities, I must leave it to better judges to determine, which of the two has the advantage.

My friend C⸺ was so delighted with the beauty and magnificence of this aqueduct, that we could not induce him to leave it, until the obscurity of evening made a longer stay unavailing; when we commenced our return to Naples. On our way we had some reason to think the driver’s fears not altogether groundless, as when within four miles of the city, we were surprised by three fellows making their appearance upon a heath, who followed the carriage for some distance, and kept looking at us as if to reconnoitre our force. One of them even attempted to spring up behind the carriage, but my friend C⸺ calling out loudly in the Italian language, he desisted, and with his companions made off immediately. We certainly acted imprudently in travelling near Naples at so late an hour, for although the city was kept quiet by Austrian troops, it was well known, that numbers of disbanded soldiers, and discontented peasantry, were spread all over the country. We did not arrive at Naples until half after ten o’clock, when I went immediately to my lodgings, leaving my companion to settle the customary dispute of fare with the coachman; and which I understood was not concluded until midnight, and then terminated in our paying a dollar more than had been stipulated for.

During my residence in this city I frequently walked on the delightful promenade of the Villa Reale, which happened to be near my lodgings in the Strada Bassiniana, and in the vicinity of Santa Lucia and the Caio, two places, which for strangers, are preferable to any other part of Naples.

In this garden is a bust of Tasso, the features of which the sentinel one day permitted me to examine, when I was much struck with the contour. The traveller will also see here the celebrated group, called Il Toro Farnese, originally brought to Rome from Rhodes, and found in Caracallas baths, from whence it was removed to the Farnese palace. It was supposed to represent Amphion and Zetus, who, by order of their mother Antiope, are binding Dirce to the horns of a wild bull. Apollonius is said to have executed much of this group, which has however been restored in so many parts, that little of the antique work remains, the bull excepted.

On the 15th, the king of Naples, about three o’clock in the afternoon, made his public entry into his capital, after regaining possession of his dominions, under two triumphal arches erected for the purpose, one at the Botanic Garden, a short distance[213] from the city, the other in the middle of the Toledo. The whole way to the palace was lined with Austrian and Neapolitan soldiers, who were ordered to prevent cheering, and it was even said that some lazaroni, who attempted it, were placed in custody.

In the evening the city was illuminated, although this was partially done, and chiefly confined to the public offices, and residences of such individuals as were more particularly anxious to manifest their loyalty. This was repeated on the two succeeding nights.

The entrance of the king, appeared to be the signal for the removal of such persons as were supposed inimical to his government; many were simply ejected from their situations, while others were imprisoned, or had passports sent to them, with notice to quit the kingdom before a certain day; I am not aware that the punishment of death was inflicted on any.

On the 18th we experienced a very hot day; after breakfast, my friend C⸺, Dr. R⸺, and myself, set out to visit Virgil’s tomb; which, notwithstanding they had been there before, we contrived to pass beyond; returning back we discovered it, and having entered a door which led through a small vineyard, began to descend a number of steps, which terminated near the entrance of a stone vault, in which were a number[214] of recesses for the reception of sepulchral urns, each about two feet high and eighteen inches broad; these were formed on a level with the floor, one on either side of the entrance, three in each lateral wall, and two in front, being ten in all.

Some antiquarians have disputed, whether the ashes of the great Mantuan bard ever reposed in this vault; this philosophically and abstractedly taken, perhaps, is a matter of as little consequence to posterity, as to Virgil himself; but in a sentimental point of view, unless they can point out indisputably, the spot where the precious exuviæ of this immortal spirit were actually deposited, it is but a cruel martyrdom of feeling, to attempt to deprive us, the hapless Ciceroni of the day, of the exquisite gratification of an imaginary sepulchretum.

Shortly after this interesting excursion, we determined to cross the bay of Naples to Sorento, the birth-place of Tasso, at the distance of about eighteen miles. Our party consisted of Lieut. B⸺, Mr. D⸺, and myself; we had a short and pleasant passage, and just before the sails were taken in, the crew sung a hymn to the Virgin Mary, to thank her for their safe arrival, and then brought round a box for our contributions to a libation in honour of her. We now found that the town was two miles farther on, and the master prepared a small boat, with part of his crew, to take us there, for which he gave us to understand,[215] we were to pay as much as for the voyage across the bay; notwithstanding he had informed us that his was a Sorento boat, and we had engaged to be taken there. My friends were unwilling to dispute the point; whereas, had it been left to myself, he should not have received a grain beyond his contract, or even that, until he had landed us at the point stipulated for. The impositions to which strangers are subjected in this country, are unbounded, and it requires much art and manœuvring to defend oneself; not that this is particular to Italy, for we have only to look at home, where we find our hackney-coachmen and watermen, ready to avail themselves of a similar licence. My plan is, in the first instance, to gain all possible information as to the proper distances and charges; and then, throwing myself accidentally, as it were, in the way of those persons I wish to engage, to allow them to make the first attack, which they will be sure to do, and which I receive with an indifferent air, laughing at their price, which I know, and declare to be unreasonable, and offering them a very low one;—if it is not accepted, I then walk away, for it is endless staying to argue with them; they will be sure to follow and learn my address, and make more reasonable proposals; in which case, with an appearance of liberality, it is easy to say, that as I am pleased with their civil manners, it induces me to give something more than the[216] regular fare, when the bargain is readily concluded.

On landing, our first object was to make out a comfortable inn for dinner, but we were grievously disappointed. The best one was full and unable to receive us; the second contained nothing to eat; and in the third we found a dirty old man, getting out of one of the six beds, which the room we were to have dined in contained, and from which issued so disgusting a smell, that notwithstanding the keenness of our appetites, we could not reconcile ourselves to continue there. We had recourse to our only alternative, which was to proceed to the house of a gentleman, Captain S⸺, at the distance of two miles, with whom Lieut. B⸺ wished to treat, for summer apartments for his family, thinking we might elicit information as to where a dinner could be procured. Captain S⸺ was dining from home, but we had the pleasure of seeing his lady, whose account of the accommodations of the neighbourhood put us quite in despair. She insisted, however, upon sending for her husband, and had the kindness to give us a refreshment of bread, wine, and oranges, which was truly acceptable. Captain S⸺, on his arrival, with the greatest kindness, offered us not only a dinner, but beds, which, although with reluctance, we felt compelled to accept of.

In the interim, while dinner was in preparation,[217] we walked out to call on an English friend of Mr. B⸺’s, who resided two miles farther off; he was, however, from home; but the attempt to see him, gave us an opportunity of exploring the country; which my friends described as very beautiful, although only visible through occasional interruptions to high stone walls on either side, and which universally bound the roads in this part of the country; and which are so narrow, that it must be impossible for a common-sized waggon to pass along them; they serve, however, at least one good purpose, that of affording shelter from the scorching rays of the sun.

Soon after eight o’clock our dinner was announced, and an excellent one it proved; although, I believe, we should all, under our feelings of hunger, have given the preference to a few mutton chops hastily provided; but the order of things must not be deranged; as we proposed to set off at four in the morning, we were glad to retire to bed immediately after dinner.

In the morning Captain S⸺ had the kindness to get up to see us off, when he sent his servant to conduct us to a much nearer point than Sorento, and which proved to be the individual spot where we had first arrived on the preceding day. We did not reach Naples until nine o’clock, having little wind, so that we had to pull a considerable part of the distance.

[218]

On the 26th, Lieut. B⸺ and myself, accompanied Count K⸺ on board the Austrian flagship, lying off this port. This vessel, named the Austria, was a frigate of forty-four guns, built by the French at Venice, and afterwards taken possession of by the Austrians. We found an English sailor on board, who had entered from one of our merchantmen in the Mediterranean, and who gave us no very favourable account of the naval tactics of the Austrians. The officers appeared to want that smartness which we are accustomed to in a British man-of-war; that is, there was a heavy manner about them. We were treated, however, with civility, although we did expect more attention, having been introduced as British naval officers.

On the 29th, one of the two Austrian frigates lying here, with two Neapolitan frigates, having under convoy about forty smaller vessels, with eight thousand Austrian troops on board, sailed for Palermo. My friends were highly delighted with this spectacle.

Having heard much of the island of Ischia, distant twenty-four miles from Naples, I was induced to cross over to it, in company with Mr. J. O⸺, an English gentleman, who was purposing to spend some time there, on account of his health. We had intended setting off some days before, but the Sirocco wind prevented us, being attended by[219] a heavy swell setting into the bay, so that no boat would venture out. We left Naples at six o’clock in the morning of the 30th of May, and after passing by the islands of Nicida and Prochyta, on the former of which stands the Lazaretto, and on the latter one of the king’s palaces, we landed about half after eleven, at the village of Ischia. We were immediately surrounded by a number of fellows having asses with them, which they, with much insolence, urged us to hire. Mr. O⸺ took one for his little nephew whom he had brought with him, and setting him forward, we followed on foot until we arrived at Sentinella, a distance of three or four miles. We were pursued, however, for a considerable time by a drove of these donkey men, in expectation that we might hire their animals; but at length, finding themselves disappointed, they gradually gave up the point, hooting and holloing after us as they departed.

On laying my hand on one of these asses, I was astonished at the silkiness of its skin; but I believe the hair of all animals is proportionately softer in southern climates, probably in consequence of the superficial pores being more open. I have heard, and it appears probable, that the nerves of the cuticle, as of the finger, are more sensible in warm latitudes; and that this is the reason why the silks, and other fine works, in such countries, are[220] of more delicate texture, than what are manufactured elsewhere.

This island, formerly known by the names of Enaria and Pithecusa, is exceedingly fertile, rich, and populous, the whole of it is conceived to be of volcanic origin; indeed it was formerly famous for its frequent eruptions, although they have now entirely ceased. The town of Ischia, from whence it derives its present name, is situated in a small bay, which is protected by a castle, built on a rock projecting into the sea, and separated from the main island by a ridge of sand.

Sentinella is a single house, standing on a rock which overhangs the sea; it belongs to a public notary, who receives visitors that come to the island for the benefit of its baths, and who are accommodated with board and lodging at the rate of a dollar per day; as a situation, it is far preferable to the adjoining village of Lucio, which is a shabby place, standing low on the shore, and consequently excessively hot, and infested by mosquitoes; whereas, at Sentinella, there is a fine sea breeze by day, and fresh air from the mountains at night. The proprietor has several daughters, agreeable young women, who study the comforts of their visitors; he has, besides, a brother, a medical man, residing in the village. In the evening, the young ladies entertained us with music and dancing.

[221]

The baths are situated at the village. There are two springs, one termed Aqua del occhio, from which the baths are supplied; the other is called the Aqua Caponi; I drank a couple of tumblers full of the latter, the taste of which reminded me of a weak solution of Cheltenham salts.

After returning from the baths, we rested quietly for the remainder of the day, amusing ourselves with reading; in the evening, we walked to a village named Piazza, and on our return, were again entertained with music and dancing.

On the following morning, I took leave of Sentinella, where I should have felt happy to have prolonged my stay, in order to have enjoyed more of the society of Mr. O⸺, whom I left behind me. The pursuits of this gentleman, were much in unison with my own; that is, he occupied his time with an alternation of exercise and reading, the one so condusive to health, the other to happiness; nor were these pursuits directed to the mere attainment of vacant pleasure, but to the more satisfactory acquisition of useful information; and Horace says,

At ten o’clock I embarked for Naples, which, however, we did not reach before six in the evening, for we had light or contrary winds throughout the day, and, notwithstanding the use of our oars, made but slow progress.

[222]

On the following day a fine morning was succeeded, about noon, by a cloudy atmosphere, and in returning from the custom-house, where I had accompanied a gentleman, we were overtaken by a dreadful thunderstorm, attended by torrents of rain. We succeeded, however, in gaining shelter. On this occasion, I missed my pocket handkerchief, and whether it had been filched away by the rude wind, or some of the light-fingered gentry, with whom this city abounds, it is impossible for me to say, although I am inclined to suspect the latter. It was, however, the only loss of the kind I sustained during my journey.

Sunday, June 3d, Mr. C⸺ and myself hired a curriculo or gig, and drove to Capo di Monte, to visit Mr. and Mrs. M⸺. This is a most delightful summer residence, standing on very elevated ground, although only two miles distant from the city. The king has a palace here, as he has in almost every fine situation; in short, the royal residences are so numerous, that one can scarce wonder at the heavy income-tax of twenty-five per cent. as well as the immense duties, imposed on his subjects.

Monday, June 4th, promising to be favourable for my intention of visiting the remains of Pompeii, distant about fourteen miles from Naples, my friend C⸺, and myself, engaged a curriculo to take us over to that spot; for this conveyance, we paid only twelve carlines, equal to about four shillings; but when it is recollected, that my driver could support himself and his horse through the day, for one-eighth part of that sum, the compensation ceases to be a contemptible one.

We left Naples a little before six, and after resting for breakfast at Torre del Annunciata, arrived at Pompeii about nine o’clock. Our road lay through rich vineyards, and over various beds of lava, the remains of different eruptions from Mount Vesuvius. In 1794, one town through which we passed, Torre del Greco, was destroyed by one of these awful visitations, and yet such is the attachment of the infatuated people to this situation, that a new one has arisen on the self-same spot.

We entered the suburbs of Pompeii, by the villa of the Roman, whose skeleton was found[224] in the garden, with a purse of gold in his hand, with which he appears to have been endeavouring to escape, when arrested by the overwhelming shower of ashes. After passing these suburbs, in which we noticed a number of monuments, and receptacles for the ashes of the dead, we entered under an ancient gateway into the city itself. It is not easy to describe the sensations which rushed upon my soul, on finding myself within this monumental city, or to give that lucid description which it requires; I shall therefore not apologize for borrowing an account, which corresponds with the ideas I was personally led to form of it. I shall, however, premise, that the order of our exploration, varied from the one usually adopted by the Cicerones, who take you first to the amphitheatre; on the contrary, we commenced with those points, which strangers generally finish with, leaving the theatres and amphitheatre for the last objects of research, and thus, as it were, proceeding from small things to great ones.

“The remains of this town afford a truly interesting spectacle. It is like a resurrection from the dead; the progress of time and decay is arrested, and you are admitted to the temples, the theatres, and the domestic privacy of a people, who have ceased to exist for seventeen centuries. Nothing is wanting but the inhabitants: still, a[225] morning’s walk through the silent streets of Pompeii, will give you a livelier idea of their modes of life, than all the books in the world. They seem like the French of the present day, to have existed only in public. Their temples, theatres, basilicas, and forums, are on the most splendid scale, but in their private dwellings, we discover little, or no attention to comfort. The houses in general, have a small court, round which the rooms are built, which are rather cells than rooms; the greater part are without windows, receiving light only from the door. There are no chimneys; the smoke of the kitchen, which is usually low and dark, must have found its way through a hole in the ceiling.

“The doors are so low, that you are obliged to stoop to pass through them. There are some traces of Mosaic flooring, and the stucco paintings, with which all the walls are covered, are but little injured; and upon their being wetted, they appear as fresh as ever. Brown, red, yellow, and blue, are the prevailing colours. It is a pity that the contents of the houses could not have been allowed to remain in the state in which they were found: but this would have been impossible. Travellers are the greatest thieves in the world. As it is, they will tear down, without scruple, the whole side of a room, to cut out a favourable specimen[226] of the stucco painting. If it were not for this pilfering propensity, we might now see every thing as it really was left at the time of this great calamity; even to the skeleton which was found with a purse of gold in its hand. In the stocks of the guard-room, which was used as a military punishment, the skeletons of four soldiers were found sitting; but these poor fellows have now been released from their ignominious situation, and the stocks, with every thing else that was moveable, have been placed in the museum; the bones being consigned to their parent clay. Pompeii, therefore, exhibits nothing but bare walls, and the walls are without roofs; for these have been broken in, by the weight of the shower of ashes and pumice stones, that caused the destruction of the town.

“The amphitheatre is very perfect, as indeed are the two other theatres, intended for dramatic representations, though it is evident that they had sustained some injury from the earthquake, which, as we learn from Tacitus, had already much damaged this devoted town, before its final destruction by the eruption of Vesuvius. ‘Et motu terræ celebre Campaniæ oppidum Pompeii magna ex parte proruit.’—Tac. Ann. 15. c. 22.

“The paintings on the walls of the amphitheatre, represent the combats of gladiators and wild[227] beasts, the dens of which remain just as they were seventeen hundred years ago. The two theatres for dramatic entertainments, are as close together as our own Drury Lane and Covent Garden. The larger one which might have contained five thousand persons, like the amphitheatre had no roof, but was open to the day. The stage is very much circumscribed—there is no depth, and consequently there are no side scenes; the forms and appearance are like that of our own theatres, when the drop scene is down, and forms the extent of the stage. In the back scene of the Roman stage, which instead of canvas, is composed of unchangeable brick and marble, are three doors; and there are two others on the sides, answering to our stage-doors. It seems that it was the theatrical etiquette, that the premiers roles should have their exits and entrances, through the doors of the back scene, and the inferior ones through those on the sides.

“The little theatre is covered, and in better preservation than the other; and it is supposed that this was intended for musical entertainments. The temple of Isis has suffered little injury; the statues alone have been taken away. You see the very altar on which the victims were offered, and you may now ascend without ceremony the private stairs, which led to the sanctum[228] sanctorum of the goddess; where those mysterious rites were celebrated, the nature of which may be shrewdly guessed from the curiosities discovered there, and which are now to be seen in the Museo Borbonico. In a niche on the outside of the temple, was the statue of Harpocraes, the God of silence—who was most appropriately placed here; but

“The streets are very narrow; the marks of wheels on the pavement shew that carriages were in use, but there must have been some regulation to prevent their meeting each other; for one carriage would have occupied the whole of the street, except the narrow trottoir raised on each side for foot passengers, for whose accommodation, there are also raised stepping stones, in order to cross from one side to the other. The distances between the wheel traces, are four feet three inches.

“There is often an emblem over the door of a house, that determines the profession of its former owner. The word ‘Salve’ on one, seems to denote that it was an inn, as we have in our days the sign of ‘The Salutation.’ In the outer brick-work of another, is carved an emblem, which shocks the refinement of modern taste; but which has been an object even of religious adoration[229] in many countries, probably as a symbol of creative power. The same device is found on the stucco of the inner court of another house, with this intimation, ‘Hic habitat Felicitas,’ a sufficient explanation of the character of its inhabitants. Many of the paintings on the walls are very elegant in the taste and design, and they often assist us in ascertaining the uses for which the different rooms were intended. For example, in the baths, we find Tritons, and Naiads; in the bed-chambers, Morpheus scatters his poppies; and in the eating-room, a sacrifice to Esculapius teaches us, that we should eat, to live;—and not live, to eat.

“In one of these rooms, are the remains of a triclinium. A baker’s shop is as plainly indicated, as if the loaves were now at his window. There is a mill for grinding the corn, and the oven for baking; and the surgeon, and the druggist, have also been traced, by the quality of the articles found in their respective dwellings.

“But the most complete specimen that we have of an ancient residence, is the villa which has been discovered, at a small distance without the gate. It is on a more splendid scale, than any of the houses in the town itself, and it has been preserved with scarcely any injury. Some have imagined that this was the Pompeianum—the[230] Pompeian villa of Cicero. Be this as it may, it must have belonged to a man of taste. Situated on a sloping bank, the front entrance opens, as it were, into the first floor; below which, on the garden side, into which the house looks—for the door is the only aperture on the road side—is a ground floor, with spacious arcades, and open rooms, all facing the garden; and above are the sleeping-rooms. The walls and ceilings of this villa are ornamented with paintings of very elegant design, all which have a relation to the uses of the apartments in which they are placed. In the middle of the garden there is a reservoir of water, surrounded by columns, and the ancient well still remains. Though we have many specimens of Roman glass in their drinking vessels, it has been doubted, whether they were acquainted with the use of it in the windows. Swinburne, however in describing Pompeii, says, ‘In the window of a bed-chamber some panes of glass are remaining. This would seem to decide the question;—but they remain no longer.’

“The host was fond of conviviality, if we may judge from the dimension of his cellar, which extends under the whole of the house, and the arcades also, and many of the amphoræ remain, in which the wine was stowed. It was here that the skeletons of seven-and-twenty poor wretches were[231] found, who took refuge in this place from the fiery shower that would have killed them at once, to suffer the lingering torments of being starved to death. It was in one of the porticos leading to the outward entrance, that the skeleton, supposed to be that of the master of the house, was found with a key in one hand, and a purse of gold in the other. So much for Pompeii.”—Matthews.

Absorbed in feelings of the most melancholy, but tenderest nature, we commenced our return to Naples, where we arrived about five o’clock in the evening.

We experienced much thunder and lightning for a day or two, which, on the 7th were succeeded by a clear hot day. In the evening, I took a drive in a carriage, in company with Dr. K⸺ to the Lake Agnano. On our way, we passed the Grotto del Cani, or Dog’s Cave, which has the quality of being fatal to that animal when taken into it, whereas the human subject can remain[233] within it uninjured. The cause of this phenomenon admits of easy explanation. A quantity of carbonic acid gas is disengaged from apertures, or chinks in the sides of the cavern, and from its greater specific gravity than atmospheric air, falls to the floor which is somewhat lower than the entrance: it is consequently retained there, producing its peculiar noxious effects on animals of low stature when introduced into it,—as a common-sized dog; while others of a superior height, not having their organs of respiration immersed in the injurious fluid, remain in the cave with impunity. Thus readily does philosophy, in this instance, overturn the errors of superstition; for the peculiarities of this cavern, were formerly attributed to the influence of a vengeful deity.

I did not enter the grotto, my friend having neglected to inform me of our approach to it, although the examination of it was a leading object of my evening’s drive. I should, however, have found no gratification, could I have witnessed the convulsive agonies of one of the unfortunate animals, who are kept for the purpose of demonstrating the properties of the cave, and who, after being immersed until life is nearly extinct, are then returned into a purer atmosphere, to reserve them for repeated exhibition. The exhibitors have a peculiar mode of assisting the recovery in this[234] case; namely, to throw the poor creature into the lake. It is not easy to conceive, under suspension of vitality from such a source, how this is to contribute to its restoration. On our return, one of these dogs, consisting literally of skin and bone, was lying on the ground near the mouth of the cave. I could not but wish, that the numerous persons who visit this simple natural phenomenon, would provide themselves with bread to feed these poor animals, instead of wantonly amusing themselves with so cruel an experiment of its effects.

On approaching the Lake Agnano, my organ of smell became strongly affected, by the sulphurous exhalation proceeding from its surface, and the marshy grounds around it, and which I readily recognised to be sulphuretted hydrogen. I was astonished by the extraordinary croaking of the numerous frogs, which inhabit this lake, far exceeding any thing I had ever heard from the various froggeries of France or Italy. One would have thought that Aaron’s rod had been extended over it; they appeared to be all around, so that I fancied every step I had to take, must have crushed more or less of them to death. There was no habitation near, or the description of Exodus, chap. VIII. verse 3, must have been realized with respect to it.

Notwithstanding the representations made to me on all sides of the difficulties which must attend it, my desire to visit Mount Vesuvius was of so ardent a nature, that I certainly should have made the attempt alone, had not a friend, Mr. M., kindly volunteered to accompany me, but from whom, I have the vanity to say, I rather looked for amusement and information, than guidance and protection.

My friends endeavoured to dissuade me from this arduous undertaking, and when, after fully deciding upon the measure, I inquired in what way it was customary for others to make the ascent, replied, “Oh! they could see their way up.” “Well, then,” I retorted, “I have little doubt of being able to feel mine.” I must acknowledge myself annoyed by having suggestions of difficulties persisted in, which, I feel sensible in my own bosom, do not insuperably exist; nor can I admit any person, not in the same situation with myself, capable of estimating the powers, which, under the curtailment of one sense, another, in consequence, acquires.

We set off from Naples about five o’clock in the[236] afternoon, with a view of seeing the mountain by moonlight; after passing through Portici, we reached Resina about seven o’clock, where we left the carriage to await our return, and reconvey us to Naples. Taking a conductor from the house of Salvatori, whose family are esteemed the most respectable guides of the mountain, we immediately commenced our ascent. A number of asses are constantly in attendance at this point, for the purpose of assisting such as are incapable of walking, or apprehensive of fatigue, and which are able to convey their riders two-thirds of the way towards the summit; but, in order that I might acquire a more correct idea of the nature of the road, we gave the preference to walking.

We proceeded along a fair road, until we arrived at a house about half way to the hermitage, where we rested a short time, and refreshed ourselves with wine and water; after this the road gradually became worse, and at length so bad that if I had not, on former occasions, witnessed the astonishing powers of asses and mules, I should have conceived it impossible for them to have ascended it. We reached the hermitage about half after eight o’clock, and at the suggestion of our guide, recruited ourselves with some of the hermit’s bread and wine; and then began the more arduous part of our journey.[237] The road soon became very soft, being constituted of the light dust which had been thrown out from the crater; interspersed, however, with large and sharp stones, ejected from the same source; some of which were of such immense size, that did we not bear in mind the astonishing powers of elementary fire, we could scarcely credit the possibility of such masses being hurled to this distance, from out of the bowels of the mountain.

One of the greatest inconveniences I found in this ascent, was from the particles of ashes insinuating themselves within my shoes, and which annoyed my feet so much, that I was repeatedly compelled to take them off, in order to get rid of the irritating matter. Hence I would recommend future travellers to ascend in white leathern boots.

At length we reached the only part of the mountain, which was at this time in a burning state, and which was throwing out flames and sulphurous vapour; when the guide taking me by the arm, conducted me over a place where the fire and smoke issued from apertures between the stones we walked upon, and which we could hear crackling under our feet every instant, as if they were going to be separated, and to precipitate us into the bowels of the mountain. The sublime description of Virgil did not fail to occur to my recollection.

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My imagination, I admit, was actively alive to the possible accidents which might have occurred; I followed, however, with all the confidence which my conviction of being under the care of a cautious leader, did not fail to inspire. My guide appeared highly gratified with the incident, asserting that it was the first time one deprived of sight had ever ventured there; and adding, that he was sure it would much surprise the king, when the circumstance became known to him, in the report which is daily made of the persons who visit the mountain. The ground was too hot under our feet, and the sulphurous vapour too strong to allow of our remaining long in this situation; and when he thought he had given us a sufficient idea of the nature of this part of the mountain, we retired to a more solid and a cooler footing; previous to which, however, he directed my walking-cane towards the flames, which shrivelled the ferrule, and charred the lower part;—this I still retain as a memorial.

From hence we were conducted to the edge of a small crater, now extinguished, from whence[239] about two months before, the Frenchman, rivalling the immortality of Empedocles—

and desirous of the glory of dying a death worthy of the great nation, plunged into the fiery abyss. The guide placed my hand on the very spot where he was stated to have last stood, before he thus rashly entered upon eternity.

I was anxious to have proceeded up the cone to the border of the superior and large crater, but our guide objected, indeed refused to conduct us to it, unless we awaited the dawn of morning; the moon, he said, was fast descending, so that we should be involved in darkness before we could attain it; and that consequently it would be attended with risk in the extreme to make the attempt.

This was a check to the completion of my anxious wishes, but our arrangements at Naples neither made it convenient to my friend, or myself, to remain until morning; nor would it have been pleasant to have spent some hours here without refreshment, more particularly as I had left my coat behind near the hermitage, and at this elevation we found it extremely cold.

After spending a short time in examining some of the immense masses of calcined rock, some of them forming solid cubes of twenty feet diameter,[240] and which had been at different times thrown out by the volcanic power; we began to retrace our steps towards the hermitage, distant, as our guide informed us, four miles, but which must have been an over-rated estimate. As we approached this latter place, we met a party ascending the mountain, with an intention of waiting the break of day, so as to enable them to reach the very summit.

We now partook freely of the good hermit’s provisions, and enjoyed his Lachrymæ Christi, both white and red; which of course he had no objection to, as he expected to be well paid for it; he is probably influenced by motives of this nature in residing here, although he is said to enjoy a small pension from the king. The present hermit has not been long resident; the former, a very old man, having retired a few years since to spend the remnant of his days in the bosom of his family. Of course the tenant of this seclusion is a monk, but in the present day we have few instances of voluntary and solitary retirement from the busy haunts of men, on the mere score of religious feeling, and we can scarcely, in the present instance, attribute a lonely residence, in the midst of such dangerous circumstances, to this principle alone.

But the danger of the situation is probably not so great as might be imagined: to the common eruptions our recluse must be accustomed, and of[241] course has had experience of their comparative innocence; and with respect to the more important ones, it is certain, that a variety of indicating circumstances have generally preceded them, well understood by those who are exposed to their agency, and which give timely and sufficient warning; besides, our hermit is not so solitary a being as many who move on the busy stage of life; for the number of parties that visit his cell, must afford him considerable intercourse with society, and was it otherwise, we know how much we are the creatures of habit, which can even reconcile us to incompatibles. Some think a ship a prison, nay, Dr. Johnson says, it is “the worst of prisons, for you have no means of escaping,” and yet there are many, who, from custom, are never more happy than in one.

The hermit placed his book before us, containing the names of those who had visited his cell, and we found them accumulated from all nations, and largely interspersed with observations in verse and prose; but as for their beauty and point I shall leave this to be determined by those who may think well to inspect them. My friend was anxious that I should contribute my mite to this book of scraps, when, as my mind was not a little elate, with the idea of having so easily surmounted the difficulties which my friends had urged against[242] my present excursion, I put down a couplet to the following effect:

It was in this book the Frenchman wrote his intention of destroying himself, and fortunate was it for the guide, that he made it known in this manner, and exonerated him from the suspicion, which would otherwise have attached to him, of having been implicated in his death. I understood that the agitation, into which the poor fellow was thrown from the circumstance itself, and his apprehensions of the consequences, threw him into a fever, from which he was not sufficiently recovered to be able, at this time, to leave his bed. The hermit unfortunately was unacquainted with the French language, or the dreadful catastrophe might have been prevented. The book was sent to the police, and the leaf in question taken out, and retained, and every enquiry made to prove and account for the circumstance.

Shortly after this period, I met with an English gentleman at Florence, Mr. H⸺, who had travelled from France to Naples with this unfortunate man, and lodged for a length of time in the same house with him, and who informed me that he was a merchant of Nants, which place, in consequence of his affairs becoming embarrassed, he[243] had quitted with such money as he was enabled to collect; and which being expended, his necessities impelled him to this deliberate act of suicide, forgetting that in thus terminating his sublunary cares, he was sacrificing his hopes and interest in a future world.

While we were upon the mountain, a party of Austrians had arrived with the intention of reposing on the couches, which the hermit is provided with for that purpose, and setting out for the crater at day-break. This is perhaps a preferable plan to the one which we had adopted.

After remaining an hour at the hermitage we re-commenced our journey to Resina by torch-light, the moon having sunk below the horizon. About three o’clock we re-entered our carriage, and at four in the morning arrived at Naples.

Before quitting the subject of Mount Vesuvius, it may be interesting to give the following extract of a description of this now quiescent volcano, when under a state of turbulence, with some[244] observations on the causes of this interesting natural phenomenon.

“Exclusive of those periods when there are actual eruptions, the appearance and quantity of what issues from the mountain are various; sometimes, for a long space of time together, it seems in a state of almost perfect tranquillity; nothing but a small quantity of smoke ascending from the volcano, as if that vast magazine of fuel, which has kept alive for so many ages, was at last exhausted, and nothing remained but the dying embers; then, perhaps, when least expected, the cloud of smoke thickens, and is intermixed with flame; at other times, quantities of pumice-stones and ashes, are thrown up with a kind of hissing noise. For near a week the mountain has been more turbulent than it has been since the small eruption, or rather boiling over of lava, which took place about two months ago; and while we remained at the top, the explosions were of sufficient importance to satisfy our curiosity to the utmost. They appeared much more considerable there, than we had imagined while at a greater distance; each of them was preceded by a noise like thunder within the mountain, a column of thick black smoke then issued out with great rapidity, followed by a blaze of flame; and immediately after, a shower of cinders, and ashes, or red hot stones, were thrown[245] into the sky. This was succeeded by a calm of a few minutes, during which, nothing issued but a moderate quantity of smoke and flame, which gradually increased, and terminated in thunder and explosion as before. These accesses and intervals continued with varied force while we remained.

“When we first arrived, our guides placed us at a reasonable distance from the mouth of the volcano, and on the side from which the wind came, so that we were no way incommoded by the smoke. In this situation the wind also bore to the opposite side, the cinders, ashes, and other fiery substances, which were thrown up; and we ran no danger of being hurt, except when the explosion was very violent, and when red hot stones, and such heavy substances, were thrown like sky-rockets, with a great, and prodigious force, into the air; and even these make such a flaming appearance, and take so much time in descending that they are easily avoided.”—Moore’s View, &c.

“There is no volcanic mountain in Europe, whose desolating paroxysms have been so fatally experienced, and so accurately transmitted to us, as those of Vesuvius. This mountain is well known to constitute one of the natural wonders of the kingdom of Naples. Like Parnassus, it has been said to consist of two summits, one of which,[246] situated in a westward direction, is called by the natives Somma; and the other, running in a southern line, Proper Vesuvius, or Vesuvio; and it is this last alone, which emits fire and smoke. The two hills, or summits, are separated by a valley about a mile in length, and peculiarly fertile in its production.

“The eruptions of this mountain have been numerous in almost every age of the Christian era, and on many occasions prodigiously destructive. The eruptions of volcanoes are usually attended by some shocks like those of earthquakes, although commonly less violent. Open volcanoes continually throw out, in more or less abundance, smoke, ashes, and pumice-stones, or light cinders, but their most formidable effects are produced by a torrent of ignited lava, which, like a vast deluge of liquid, or semi-liquid fire, lays waste the country over which it runs, and buries all the work of human art. In March, 1767, Vesuvius began to throw out a considerable quantity of ashes and stones, which raised its summit in the course of the year no less than two hundred feet, forming first a little mountain of pumice-stones within the crater, which, by degrees, became visible above the margin. The smoke, which was continually emitted, was rendered luminous at night, by the light derived from the fire burning below it. In[247] August, some lava had broken through this mountain, and in September, it had filled the space left between it and the former crater. On the 13th and 14th of October, there were heavy rains, which, perhaps, supplied the water concerned in the eruption that shortly followed.

“On the morning of the 19th, clouds of smoke were forced, in continual succession, out of the mouth of the volcano, forming a mass like a large pine-tree, which was lengthened into an arch, and extended to the island of Caprea, twenty-eight miles off; it was accompanied by much lightning, and by an appearance of meteors like shooting stars. A mouth then opened below the crater, and discharged a stream of lava, which Sir William Hamilton ventured to approach within a short distance, imagining that the violence of the confined materials, must have been exhausted; but on a sudden, the mountain opened with a great noise at a much lower point, about a quarter of a mile from the place where he stood, and threw out a torrent of lava, which advanced straight towards him, while he was involved in a shower of small pumice-stones and ashes, and in a cloud of smoke. The force of the explosions were so great, that doors and windows were thrown open by them at the distance of several miles. The stream of lava was in some places two miles broad, and sixty or seventy feet deep; it extended about six miles from[248] the summit of the mountain, and remained hot for several weeks.

“In 1794, a still more violent eruption occurred; it was expected by the inhabitants of the neighbourhood, the crater being nearly filled, and the water in the wells having subsided; showers of immense stones were projected to a great height, and ashes were thrown out so copiously, that they were very thick at Taranto, two hundred and fifty miles off; some of them were also wet with salt water. A heavy noxious vapour, supposed to be carbonic acid, issued in many places from the earth, and destroyed the vineyards in which it was suffered to remain stagnant. A part of the town of Torre de Greco was overwhelmed by a stream of lava, which ran through it into the sea.

“The shocks of earthquakes and the eruptions of volcanoes, are, in all probability, modifications of the effects of one common cause: the same countries are subject to both of them; and where the agitation produced by an earthquake extends farther than there is any reason to suspect a subterraneous commotion, it is probably propagated through the earth nearly in the same manner as a noise conveyed through the air.

“Volcanoes are found in almost all parts of the world, but most commonly in the neighbourhood of the sea; and especially in small islands: for instance, Italy, Sicily, Japan, the Caribbees, the[249] Cape Verd islands, the Canaries, and the Azores: there are also numerous volcanoes in Mexico, and Peru, especially Pichincha, and Cotopaxi. The subterraneous fires, which are constantly kept up in an open volcano, depend, perhaps in general, on sulphurous combinations, and decompositions, like the heating of a heap of wet pyrites, or an union of sulphur and iron filings: but in other cases, they may, perhaps, approach more nearly to the nature of common fires. A mountain of coal has been burning in Siberia for nearly a century, and most probably has undermined, in some degree, the neighbouring country.

“The immediate cause of an eruption appears to be very frequently an admission of water from the sea, or from subterraneous reservoirs; it has often happened that boiling water has frequently been discharged in great quantities from a volcano; and the force of steam, is, perhaps, more adequate to the production of violent explosions, than any other power in nature. The consequence of such an admission of water, into an immense collection of ignited materials, may, in some measure, be understood, from the accidents which occasionally happen in foundries; thus, a whole furnace of melted iron was a few years ago dissipated into the air in Colebrook Dale, by the effects of a flood which suddenly overflowed it. The phenomena of earthquakes and volcanoes are[250] amply illustrated by the particular accounts, transmitted to the Royal Society by Sir William Hamilton, of those which have happened at different times in Italy.”—Polehampton.

Notwithstanding the extraordinary exertions of the preceding night, I arose at nine o’clock on the following morning, without being sensible of any inconvenience, and commenced my preparations for leaving Naples. My friend C⸺ had engaged to accompany me, which promised to be, indeed, an important accession to my comforts and gratifications, as I was sure of not only a warmly attached friend, but a most amusing and intelligent fellow-traveller, from whom I was certain to derive essential advantages, as he was well acquainted with almost every European language. Perhaps few had experienced more vicissitudes of fortune than this gentleman, or been exposed to a greater variety of dangers and adventures, many of which bordered not a little on the romantic.

The following incidents, which are of recent occurrence, appear so interesting, that I cannot deny myself the pleasure of relating them. On returning from South America, in the beginning of the year 1815, he visited Paris; and soon afterwards Bonaparte regained possession of it. One day as he was passing through an encampment near the city, his passport was demanded by the soldiers, when he presented them with an American[251] one; he was immediately accused of being a spy, and taken before the commandant, who debated whether he should be instantly put to death, or sent a prisoner to Paris: the latter plan was, however, adopted. On their way, his escort of infantry were overtaken by a party of intoxicated dragoons, who wanted to take their prisoner from them, and who on being refused, made attempts to effect their purpose by force. They were however disappointed, the infantry placing my friend against a wall, and protecting him from their efforts to cut him down with their sabres; they succeeded at length in conducting him safe to the General Commandant at Paris. This officer was soon satisfied with his innocence, and liberated him, directing at the same time one of his aid-de-camps to accompany him into the street, and there shake hands with him, in order to convince the mob that he was a friend.

The other adventure was during the late Neapolitan and Sicilian revolution; Mr. C⸺ happened to lodge in the same house with our countryman, General Church, who commanded the Sicilian troops, forming the garrison of Palermo. One evening the general had fallen into a personal affray with some of his insubordinate soldiers, and with difficulty disengaged himself from them uninjured; supposing that he had retired to his hotel, they made an attack upon it, and in their[252] rage and disappointment destroyed the whole of its furniture. My friend, and two other English gentlemen, were at the time in the house. The former was lying in bed, seriously ill; they obliged him, however, to rise, and while one of the ruffians stood with a dagger at his breast, the others emptied his trunks, and took away everything except his pantaloons and a great coat, and threatened to murder him if he did not produce more money, stating that they were sure an Englishman must be better provided. One of the other gentlemen was also ill, but being warned by the noise, that something unpropitious was going forward, he contrived to conceal his writing-desk, with his money and papers, under the pillow; when, getting into bed, he made them believe by well groaning, and the assistance of a naturally pale and ghastly-looking face, that he was dying; they were actually afraid to touch him, and walked off, contenting themselves with what they could find about the room.

The third gentleman was treated with tolerable civility; one of the robbers disrobed himself, and putting on the clothes which were lying on a chair, made a simple exchange of property, which some consider no robbery. They cleared the table of his money, and various other articles which he had laid upon it the night before; amongst the rest, however, was a small bit of printed paper, which considering of no value, they threw on the floor;[253] this was one of Hammersley’s bills for fifty pounds.

My friend had the misfortune of being deaf, as well as suffering otherwise from ill health; it may be regarded as a curious incident in our travelling connexion,—that I should want sight, and he hearing; the circumstance is somewhat droll, and afforded considerable amusement to those whom we travelled with, so that we were not unfrequently exposed to a jest on the subject, which we generally participated in, and sometimes contributed to improve.

We agreed with a vittureno to leave Naples on Monday, June 11, and took leave of our friends, and made our other arrangements accordingly; but on returning home on the Sunday evening, I found the vittureno had been to state the danger of setting off alone, on account of the number of robbers on the road; and that they should wait to accompany another voiture, which was to set off on the Tuesday; we accordingly reconciled ourselves to the delay, notwithstanding some of our friends, acquainted with the ways of these fellows, expressed their opinion that we should be teased in this manner for at least two or three days, notwithstanding we had a written agreement for our departure, signed by the proprietor; we now, however, to make more certain for the following day, had another drawn up, with a legal stamp to it,[254] and in which it was stipulated, that if he failed to set off on the next morning, he should forfeit half his fare.

On Tuesday morning we were in readiness at four o’clock, expecting the coach every moment; at five, however, the vittureno came to state that one of his passengers was taken very ill, and could not proceed, and that he must defer going until the next day, when he hoped the gentleman would be able to set off. This was provoking, and we could not help doubting the truth of the story, but on sending our servant to the gentleman’s lodgings, he returned with a confirmation, and we thought best to acquiesce. We made him sign, however, a yet stronger obligation, by which we were empowered, if he did not set off on the Wednesday, to take post-horses at his expense. We kept very close to-day, not wishing to be laughed at by our friends; in the evening, however, we walked down to the mole, amongst the shipping, where we saw an embarkation of horses for the Austrian army in Sicily; and a Neapolitan seventy-four-gun-ship, the Capri, secured to the wharf, and near to the remains of another seventy-four-gun-ship, the St. Ferdinand, which, a short time before had taken fire, and been burned down to the water’s edge.

We felt a strong inclination to avail ourselves[255] of this last evening to visit the magnificent theatre of San Carlos, which had only very lately been opened; but the advantage of retiring early to bed, in order to prepare for our journey on the morrow, induced us to forego the gratification. I had, however, lately been to the Il Fondo, which some prefer to the larger theatre, as its size is better adapted to give effect to the performances. As, however, I could not understand the language, the music alone interested me; but this was indeed exquisite, and fully sufficient to afford the most heart-touching gratification. It was of that kind which

At length, on Wednesday the 13th of June, we commenced our journey from Naples, although not without much insolence and altercation on the part of the vittureno, with respect to our fare; we finally settled this, by agreeing to pay six dollars each for our conveyance, dinners and beds included; which, as we were to occupy four days on the journey, was not unreasonable.

We had, however, to provide our own breakfasts, for which purpose we took with us the requisite materials for one in the English fashion and in particular a supply of butter, an article which is rarely to be met with in travelling through this country; even the bread is not always eatable, as the corn of which it is made, is thrashed out by horses or oxen trampling upon it, and then gathered up with not a little of the accompanying dirt, and which they are not always careful to purify it from, before sending it to the mill.

The innkeepers on the road, however, looked shy at our travelling provisions; but contrived, whenever they supplied us with eggs or milk, to make us pay exorbitantly for them.

We set off in company with the voiture for[257] which we had delayed our journey on the Monday, but did not get clear of Naples before seven o’clock; after which we breakfasted at Capua, and reached St. Agatha in the evening; at the latter place we witnessed a violent quarrel between two Austrian officers, which however was carried through with the same weapons that it commenced with—their tongues.

Before setting off in the morning, we were informed that the courier from Rome to Naples, had been obliged to return to Mola on the previous night, to procure a stronger escort, in consequence of intelligence from a peasant, that he was way-laid by a band of thirteen robbers, near the spot where Mrs. A⸺’s carriage had been attempted at the time of my journey to Naples. On our way, we observed a number of sledges loaded with hay, and which were similar to those used for travelling over the snow in North America. We breakfasted at Mola, and arrived at Terracina about eight in the evening, after a considerable detention at Fondi, by custom-house officers, and which was repeated on entering the papal territories; throughout the Neapolitan states, we passed numerous parties of Austrian soldiers posted on the road.

At Terracina our passports were again examined, but we avoided the inspection of baggage by getting[258] the trunks leaded with the custom-house stamps; and afterwards, unexpectedly escaped inspection at Rome, in consequence of one of our party having had the precaution to write for a lascia passare. This gentleman was the person whose illness had detained us a day longer in Naples; and which, after we came to know him, we had no cause to regret, as he proved a most agreeable gentlemanly companion. Major le Chevalier de S⸺, was gentleman of the chamber, and aid-de-camp to the king of Denmark; and we had afterwards the gratification of a considerable intercourse with him. It is singular that many years before, I should have had the pleasure of waiting upon his father, who was governor of St. Thomas’s at the time I visited that island in a British frigate.

On Friday the 15th, the morning being fine, we walked several miles by the side of the voiture, until our driver found it necessary to push on faster. After this we arrived for breakfast, in the middle of the Pontine marshes, where we were put into an apartment only fit for the accommodation of cattle, and congratulated ourselves in being provided with our own breakfast. The afternoon proved cold and wet. At seven o’clock we reached Veletri, where from our bed-room windows might be seen extensive views over the Pontine marshes, reaching as far as Terracina.

[259]

On Saturday, we arrived at Albano for breakfast, when my friend C⸺ walked to the lake, to view the famous tunnel constructed by the ancient Romans, to convey water by a magnificent aqueduct to Rome. At three o’clock in the afternoon we arrived at the latter city; at the gates whereof Major S⸺ found his lascia passare which enabled us to proceed without delay to C⸺’s old lodgings, where we not only met with accommodations for ourselves, but also for Major S⸺, who was induced to attach himself to our party: after securing this point, we dined together at the Armellino.

We spent only three days in the, now comparatively deserted, city of Rome; during which time we occupied ourselves, chiefly, in preparations for our journey to Florence, and purchasing little articles of mosaic, &c. for our friends. The only time devoted to vertu, was on the Monday, when we accompanied Major S⸺ to Count Therwaston’s collection of statues. In one room, in order to ascertain whether I knew the difference, my friends placed my hand on the leg of a living man, put into a posture for having a mould taken from him, and this without apprising me that it consisted of animate, instead of inanimate nature. In this collection, amongst others, were busts of Lord Byron, and the crown prince and princess of Denmark.

On Tuesday the 19th, we took our departure[260] from Rome for Florence, by way of Perrugia, at six o’clock in the morning. When we had proceeded about sixteen miles, before descending a hill for Baccano, my friends had a last view of this once famous, and yet interesting city. Besides Mr. C⸺, and Major S⸺, and myself, our voiture contained a Prussian medical officer, a very intelligent agreeable gentleman, and a member of the regency, who had travelled in our consort voiture from Naples, and with whom we had in consequence, a previous acquaintance, so that we were as comfortable as if we had occupied our own carriage, although we had to pay only ten dollars each for a seven days’ journey, supper and beds included.

We breakfasted at Baccano, contrary to the wish of our driver, which we afterwards regretted that we did not comply with, as, according to his representation, we found a most insolent unaccommodating landlord. After this, we passed over Monte Rosi, through the deserted looking town of Nepi, and arrived at Civita Castellana between seven and eight in the evening. In the course of this afternoon, we passed a beautiful female on horseback, riding after the fashion of men.

After sleeping at Civita Castellana, where our supper and bed were both intolerably bad, we recommenced our journey at day-break, and passed through Borghetto, when we crossed the Tiber at Ponte Felice, a stately bridge, built by the popes[261] Sextus V. and Clement VIII. upon the ruins of the old and magnificent one of Augustus.

From hence we proceeded to Otricoli and Narsi. At noon, we reached the once celebrated city of Terni, anciently Interamnia, which, however, has now only to boast of its former greatness, and of having given birth to Tacitus the historian, and the emperors Tacitus and Florian. After a hasty breakfast, we engaged a small open carriage, and went to view the falls of the Velino, distant about five miles. This river, formed by various streams and mountain torrents, from the Appennines, flows quietly for some miles, along a nearly level plain, which at length terminates in one precipitous fall of three hundred feet in depth, exclusive of minor ones, one of which is two hundred, and another eighty feet perpendicular; over these, the stream rushes with tremendous force, dashing upon the rocky bed below with such violence, that a vast cloud of watery smoke is raised around it, and which, to the eye of the spectator placed above, appears to throw the bottom into profundity. From this point, the river runs foaming over a rocky bed, successively tumbling over the minor precipices, until shortly afterwards, it finishes its course in the Nera.

This grand and romantic spectacle will be best witnessed from below, to which a guide should be taken to conduct you, by a narrow steep footway,[262] the carriage returning and awaiting your arrival at the termination of the falls; there will be however, a considerable distance to walk.

We did not return to Terni before five o’clock, when, at the instance of our driver, although contrary to my own inclinations, my companions were induced to drive on to Spoletto, to accomplish which journey, we had an additional horse for the first post, and afterwards a pair of oxen attached to our voiture, to enable us to ascend to Mount Somma, said to be two thousand feet in height; it was, however, too dark to see, from this elevated spot, the delightful scenery around it, and over the beautiful plains of Terni, which we had just quitted, and Clitumnus, on which we were entering.

At ten o’clock, we arrived at Spoletto, which appeared to be a fine ancient town, with a beautiful cathedral, fountains, and other public buildings. The inhabitants are not a little proud of their city having held out against Hannibal, when he besieged it, after his signal defeat of the Romans at Thrasymene.

At Spoletto we had a comfortable bed and supper, in comparison to what we enjoyed the preceding night, when we were unfortunate enough to be anticipated by a large party of English ladies, attended by one gentleman; and I suppose we should have been placed in the same situation, throughout our journey, had not the latter been[263] taken so seriously ill at Terni, as to be unable to proceed.

On Thursday, we set out with day-light; breakfasted at Foligno, and reached Perrugia at nine in the evening, between which places, the road turns off on the right for Lorretto, Ancona, and Venice. On our arrival, it was so cold, that, notwithstanding, we were in the centre of Italy at Midsummer, it was necessary to order a fire; indeed the sensation was so urgent, that, I believe, had we been compelled to give up this or our supper, the latter would have been abandoned. Perrugia is situated on very elevated ground, so that we were obliged to call in the assistance of a couple of oxen, for the last hour, to drag us up to it, and had experienced cold heavy rain throughout the greater part of the day. In the course of the afternoon, we were rather surprised at having once more to cross the Tiber.

The following morning was exceedingly cold as we left Perrugia, but as the day advanced, and we descended into a more champaign country, the day became finer, as well as comfortably warm. We now, after passing through the village of Torricelli, arrived at the borders of the renowned lake of Thrasymene, where we travelled by its side, along a tolerably level road, through Passignano, from whence we passed over a small plain to Borghetto, the lake being constantly on our left, and the Appennine[264] mountains surrounding this plain on our right.

“It was in the centre of this plain, that Hannibal encamped at the head of the African and Spanish troops; the Baleares, and the light-armed forces, he placed on the recesses of the mountains all around, while his cavalry were commissioned to occupy a defile in rear of the Romans, as soon as they had passed through it. The consul entered by Borghetto, with his characteristic rashness and impetuosity, and hastened to attack the army which he beheld in front; when a sudden shout bursting all around, informed him that he was beset on all sides; a thick mist rising from the lake, darkened the air; noise, confusion, dismay, defeat, and slaughter, immediately followed.”

We breakfasted at Casa del Piano, and after the various ceremonies of entering the Tuscan territories, reached Castiglione Fiorentino at half after seven in the evening. This is a beautiful village, and we could not avoid contrasting, as I believe all other travellers do, the appearance of the country and people, with the Roman states. We had a good supper, and some excellent wine of Monte Pulciano, and moreover, the felicity of being waited upon by a neat, interesting young female.

On the following morning, as we were preparing to depart, we found our fair attendant had laid out a breakfast of coffee, &c., in so clean and inviting[265] a manner, that we could not resist breaking through our usual custom of travelling a stage before we took breakfast. We found it so good, compared to what we had for some days been accustomed to, that we could not refrain from loudly expressing our preference of Tuscany. After this repast, we felt inclined for walking, and as the morning was delightful, Major S⸺ and myself, accompanied our voiture in this way for ten miles, until, near Arezzo, the inconvenience of several droves of cattle, intended for a fair at that place, induced us to re-enter the carriage. At this place, we regretted parting from Major S⸺, who left us for Sienna, promising however to rejoin us in a few days at Florence, where, he said, he had a brother, belonging to the Danish navy, with whom he should be happy to make us acquainted.

It was at this town that a monk, named Guido l’Aretino, in the eleventh century, first invented the present scale of musical notes. Our vittureno did not appear in haste to leave it, because he was desirous of picking up, if possible, a couple of passengers, to fill the now vacant places of Major S⸺ and his servant. This gave us nearly three hours to explore the place, which we found a pretty large and pleasing town.

At eleven we set out again, when just out of town, our driver took up a female into the cabriolet, accompanied by a man, probably her husband, who[266] afterwards kept up with the carriage on foot, all the way to Florence. After passing through a variety of towns and villages, at nine in the evening, we reached the village of Piano, where we stopped at the post-house. On the following morning, Sunday the 24th, we left Piano at four o’clock, and after travelling through a very hilly country for four hours, got upon a fine plain, which carried us to the gates of Florence, where we arrived about ten o’clock, and having the custom-house stamps on our luggage, were only detained to inspect the passports, after which we proceeded directly to my old quarters, the house of Madame Hembert.

Having now travelled between Florence and Rome, both by way of Sienna and Perrugia, I feel in some degree competent to give an opinion of the comparative advantages of each route. It is almost worth while, to pass once by the former, to enjoy the luxury of returning by the latter, the roads and accommodations of which are so infinitely superior. The way by Sienna may answer very well to do penance upon, and I know no other sentimental consideration which would induce a man to undertake it a second time. It is true, by Perrugia, the distance is more than fifty miles greater, but notwithstanding, the journey maybe completed in quite as short a space of time.

Madame Hembert of the Pension de Suisse, is a most pleasant and attentive woman, and so well calculated for her situation, that her house has been, for some time, a favourite resort of the visitors to this city. Finding it too small to accommodate her friends, she had, just before our arrival, taken a magnificent palace, called the Maladura, delightfully situated on the banks of the Arno, which she was now busily occupied in removing to. As it was not the most agreeable thing in the world, to reside in the midst of so confused a scene, we determined to take lodgings for the week of our proposed stay in Florence. While we were meditating this arrangement, who should we meet but Mr. F⸺, a gentleman to whom I was greatly indebted for various kind attentions at Rome, and who instantly proposed that we should place ourselves in the same house, where he himself lodged. This was so agreeable to our inclinations, that we requested him immediately to make the necessary arrangements, and on the following morning took possession of our rooms, situated in the Strada Mal-Aurange.

[268]

After this, my friend wished to see a race contested by horses without riders, but we found the ground so wet and uncomfortable, that we returned without waiting for the exhibition; which I was far from regretting, as I know no species of amusement, that, in my present situation, would have less interested me; nor was it novel to my friend.

We dined at a trattoria’s, after which I had the pleasure of accidentally meeting, at the library, with Mr. F⸺, with whom I had sailed in the felucca, from Nice, and was also introduced to Mr. H⸺, the gentleman whom I before mentioned, as having travelled with the French merchant, who threw himself into the crater of Vesuvius.

Florence is said to owe its origin to a Roman colony, composed of selected veterans from Cæsar’s legions; but in its modern state, you would scarcely imagine it the offspring of the camp; for its whole appearance bespeaks gentility, and its inhabitants are possessed of so courteous an air, that we cannot wonder it should be selected by our countrymen, as a residence preferable to every other in Italy. The society, both among the natives and foreigners is excellent; and the city abounds with literary institutions, and museums of natural history, and the fine arts. Good houses are easily procured, and provisions and necessaries of all kinds abundant and cheap.

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The town itself, both as relates to its public and private buildings, is not only handsome, but in many respects magnificent, and the streets spacious and well paved. It is justly entitled to its appellation of La bella Fiorenza. The only fault attached to it, in my opinion, is its climate; beyond this nothing is wanting.

The week which we passed in this delightful capital flew away with rapidity, and left behind it the impressions of a magic dream; indeed we found ourselves under a state something similar to fascination, so that the longer we remained, the more agreeable its pleasures and society became; and the more enjoyment we partook of, the more appeared to remain unenjoyed. The most prudent plan which suggested itself, was to engage places in a voiture beforehand, for a fixed day, by which means we should find ourselves compelled to depart.

I can scarcely particularize all our employment in the interim, which was devoted to utility as well as amusement. We spent our mornings at the studios, museums, churches, &c.; the afternoon, in the society of the many friends whom we found here. On the Tuesday evening there was a grand procession in the piazza del duomo, or square of the cathedral, a large open place well paved with flag-stones; after which we attempted to visit the[270] large theatre, called the Pergola, but were disappointed, as the house was full in every part, in consequence of the performance being for the benefit of their principal actor David, whose father, an old man of seventy-five, and long since retired from the stage, came forward to sing on the occasion. We were the more concerned at the disappointment, as it was certain that we should have no future night to appropriate to the same purpose.

Friday was St. Peter’s day, and observed as a grand fête, although with nothing like the magnificence displayed at Rome, where it is considered, next to Easter, the grandest festival of the year: the church of St. Peter’s is at the latter place illuminated on this occasion, and an old bronze figure of the saint dressed up in papal robes, decorated with immense numbers of diamonds; they are obliged, however, to protect him with soldiers, lest some of his worshippers should carry their zeal so far, as to endeavour to appropriate these ornaments for their private devotions.

On Saturday we paid our last visit to the celebrated gallery of Florence; but it must not be expected, that I can detail the various statues, and other curiosities, which this museum of the fine arts contains: was I to make the attempt, it would only embrace a repetition of what former travellers have largely, and perhaps many of them tediously, detailed.

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Of course the Venus di Medici was the first object of our attention; but I must candidly confess, that I would prefer the possession of a plain amiable countrywoman of my own, whose mind I could admire, to this paragon of beauty, or all the Venuses, animate or inanimate, which Italy possesses. Not but that I am willing to profess myself fully sensible to the magic of beauty, and to admit that Italy possesses its share, as well as many amiable and estimable women; notwithstanding the manners, habits, and system of education, of the country is generally unpropitious to their production.

After the Venus, we were introduced to the Whetter, the Wrestler, the Dancing Fawn, the little Apollo, the flying Mercury, and the unhappy family of Niobe; as well as various others, whose names I cannot remember.

Before leaving Florence, I found it necessary to get a new passport from our ambassador; the old one having been filled up at every point with signs and countersigns, until the original writing was nearly lost in the midst of marginal additions, as well as unintelligible from the length of service it had undergone. After getting the new passport from our ambassador, it was necessary to procure the signatures of two departments of the police, the pope’s legate (to pass through a part of the Roman states,) the Austrian, Piedmontese ambassadors,[272] and also the agent of the Swiss cantons, in expectation of getting through all these states without farther trouble; but our expectations in this respect were not realized; for they always contrive, in large towns, to create some necessity or other for additional signatures.

At length the day arrived for our departure for Milan, and, on Tuesday the 3rd of July, we took a final leave of Florence. In the early part of the day, before we began to ascend the Apennines, it was warm and pleasant, but after we reached these more elevated regions, it became so cold and cloudy, that we expected a fall of snow. In the afternoon we quitted the Tuscan territory with little trouble, but on arriving within the Roman states, were detained for some time, and all our baggage examined and leaded: this they made us pay for; but it had the good effect of enabling us to pass through Bologna, and out of the pope’s territories, without farther interruption. We stopped for the night at a solitary house in the Apennines, thirty-eight miles from Florence, which as we had five successive days to travel, although our horses and the roads were particularly good, was too long a day’s journey in so mountainous a country.

At noon, on the following day, we reached Bologna, where two of our passengers left us for Ferrara. Our remaining companions were an old[273] gentleman with a young wife, returning home to Piacenza; he was a captain in the army of the Dutchess of Parma. Bologna impressed us as a dull, although a fine, city. We ascended to the top of a brick tower, from whence there is a commanding view of the country, with the Apennines forming a fine bold feature on one side, and the plains of Lombardy on the other. This tower, built by the family of Givelli, and said to be three hundred and sixty-five feet in height, is mounted by a wooden staircase of four hundred and fifty steps; the whole in so ruinous a state, that it was scarcely safe to ascend it. One would almost wonder that so large a structure should not have been thought worthy of a stone, or even marble, staircase, in a country where the latter material is so plentiful.

Within the entrance we found a shoemaker at work, who said he had the care of the building; an office, however, of which it seemed difficult to conceive the duties, unless, indeed, it was to prevent persons from attempting to ascend the tower. We had not time to visit the churches and paintings in this fine town.

On quitting Bologna, we travelled along a nearly level road shaded with rows of trees, and which convinced us that we had entered upon the plains of Lombardy.

In the evening, we arrived at Salmogie, a solitary[274] house, where they regaled us with an excellent supper and wines; amongst other dainties, we were treated with Bologna sausages, and certainly thought them very fine, although, in general, I am not partial to salmagundi messes. It occurred to me, whether salmagundi might not be a corruption of the name of this house, which is famous for these sausages, and which are nothing more than salmagundi enclosed in a skin; great quantities of them are purchased by travellers, as well as sent to Bologna, and other neighbouring towns.

After leaving Salmogie, we passed from the popes territories into those of the Duke of Modena. We only stopped at the city of Modena long enough to shew them our passports and natural faces, nor did we purchase any masks to conceal them in, notwithstanding the place is very famous for the manufacture of such articles. We breakfasted at Reggio, after a journey of twenty miles from Salmogie. This city was once of importance, and still of considerable size, although it appeared partly deserted. Towards noon, the weather gave indications of an approaching storm, which came on shortly after three o’clock, with heavy rain, thunder, and lightning; but it was not of long duration, and was succeeded by a very fine evening.

At six o’clock, we entered the states of the unfortunate Maria Louisa, dutchess of Parma, where the custom-house officers accepted a small fee, to exempt[275] us from the trouble of examining our baggage.

In little more than an hour after this, we arrived at the city of Parma, where, during the preparation for our supper, we visited the cathedral, at this time under repair; the evening was too far advanced to enable my friend to see the paintings of the cupola executed by Correggio, who was a native of this place; from thence, we bent our steps to the palace of the dutchess, a large mean looking structure, with nothing like the magnificence of a royal residence about it. It was much surpassed in respectability of appearance by some of the neighbouring buildings. The unhappy Maria Louisa had been a leading subject of our thoughts and conversation since we left Florence, and every thing we are able to glean from our companions, and other sources, contributed to inspire a more than ordinary degree of sympathy and commiseration for her misfortunes. The lines of Lord Byron did not fail to recur to our imagination.

A gentleman of the dutchess’s household, a friend of our companions, supped with us, and expressed[276] himself in the highest terms respecting her affability and kindness to her subjects, to whom she was in the habit of giving balls twice every week. She has placed about her, either as a nurse or a keeper, an old Austrian general, who watches all her movements. Had we arrived somewhat earlier, we should have had the gratification of seeing, or, I should rather say, as relates to myself, examining many of the presents made to her by Bonaparte; as, for instance, her bed, the king of Rome’s cradle, and dressing-table; jewellery, and various other articles.

Provisions are said to be good and cheap at Parma, which we had no reason to call in question; we did not, however, much admire the cheese they gave us, although that produced by this country is so celebrated amongst all gourmands; possibly here, as in other places, the best is sent abroad: the land is rich, and, without doubt, excellent cheese is made in abundance from it.

Proceeding on our journey, we crossed the next day, at five miles from Parma, the bed of the river Carro, now entirely destitute of water; immediately above the place of passing, was a very fine bridge of twenty arches, commenced under the auspices of Maria Louisa, and now nearly completed. After breakfast, it turned out very cold and rainy: throughout our progress over the plains of Lombardy, we had anticipated much inconvenience[277] from heat; we, however, found more reason to complain of cold. We fancied the peasantry also in expectation of warmer weather, as they were in general very lightly clad; the more common costume being black small-clothes, without either shoes or stockings.

At an early hour, we arrived at Placentia, where our companion and his lady left us, having arrived at their own residence; their characters appeared to be of a negative kind: he, a quiet, good sort of an old man; she, a pleasant and amiable young woman, sufficiently silent and reserved, probably from the laudable motive of not wishing to give rise to any unpleasant feeling in his mind; and, actuated by such motives, they might be, and probably were, as happy as if no disparity of years had existed: for it is in the qualities of the mind, and not of the person, that conjugal felicity is dependant.

We arrived at the inn amidst a heavy fall of rain, and every thing felt cold and dismal; our horses and driver were apparently wearied out, although we had only travelled thirty-two miles, and this over a good level road.

Placentia, or Piacenza, is a fine city on the[278] banks of the Po, but the state of the weather prevented us from exploring it.

On the following morning, our driver did not call us until six o’clock, and then it was accompanied by an intimation, that we should have plenty of time to breakfast, whence we inferred, that he was looking out for passengers to fill his now vacant places; but the real cause soon appeared, for in an hour after he apprized us, with great concern, that one of his horses was quite lame, and, totally unable to proceed; but that he had found another voiture, which would carry us to Milan; and for our fare in which, he would arrange with its driver, so that it would make no manner of difference to us. We were glad to comply with this proposal, although we regretted changing our driver, whom we had found a very civil and attentive man: this inability to proceed, was, undoubtedly, to be attributed to his having driven us too far on the first day, in order to oblige two gentlemen of Ferrara, by getting on the second day to Bologna for breakfast instead of supper.

Our new voiture was a much lighter carriage, than the one we had parted from. Before we left the town, we took up an Italian lady and gentleman, who proved very pleasant and respectable people:—the lady about twenty-two, with a pair of such bewitching black eyes, that my friend C⸺ was scarcely able to sustain their glances.[279] The gentleman, who appeared to be her relative, was about thirty, and conversed in a very sensible, but free manner, on the political state of his country, and patriotically anticipated the time when she would be enabled to throw off the yoke of foreign despotism, and assert her liberty and independence: we had, however, only the pleasure of their company as far as Padoglia,—about ten miles.

On leaving Placentia, we crossed the Po, on a bridge of pontoons. The stream was rapid, and the breadth of the river much the same as that of the Thames at London-bridge. We were strongly reminded of Addison’s poetical description of this noble river, whose banks, both in ancient and modern history, have been the scene of so many sanguinary contests.

Soon after this we entered the Milanese territories, and were impressed with the propriety of manner in which our baggage was inspected by the Austrian troops; there was no disposition to neglect their public duty for private interest, no sneaking after bribes; they maintained the necessity of examination, but it was effected, without reward, in an unvexatious manner, and with a proper consideration and respect for the feelings[280] of the proprietors. The only charge made was a regular government fee for the attachment of stamped leads, to enable our luggage to pass throughout all other stations belonging to this government without farther interruption.

I am happy in being able to concur with a number of my countrymen, in doing justice to the integrity of the Austrians in their various transactions with English travellers: that the natives should inveigh against them is not surprising; since it could scarcely be expected, under their relative political situation, and amidst the great distinction of character and habits, that the two nations should assimilate cordially together. Although the Milanese now profess to give the preference to the French government, the time was, during the superior influence of that nation, that they were as averse to its domination, as they are now to that of Austria. Such is the versatility of human nature!

When we were within four miles of Lodi, one of the wheels of our carriage flew off, in consequence of the linchpin becoming disengaged; we spent some time in looking for it, but in vain, and were obliged to substitute a piece of wood, which, however, carried us safely to Lodi. We immediately, on our arrival, proceeded to visit the celebrated bridge, immortalized by the victory of Bonaparte over the Austrians, and which was[281] mainly gained by his own bravery and personal exertions. We found it nearly two miles distant from where our carriage stopped; but to have left it unnoticed, would have been as unpardonable as to have gone to Loretto, without seeing the casa santa of the blessed Virgin.

I cannot do better than give the following concise account of this day, so important to the destinies of the future ruler of France.

“Beaulieu had drawn up his forces behind the Adda, and fortified, with thirty pieces of cannon, a long bridge, in front of which was the town of Lodi, defended by his advanced posts: these Bonaparte attacked, and, after a sharp contest, drove into the town; from whence they passed the bridge, and joined the main body of their army. A battalion of French grenadiers, who had hitherto borne down all before them, now reached the bridge, shouting, “Vive la Republique,” but the dreadful fire kept up by the enemy having stopped their progress, Generals Berthier, Massena, Cervoni, &c. rushed forward: still, however, even their presence might have proved ineffectual, if it had not been for the gallantry of Bonaparte, who, snatching a standard from the hand of a subaltern, placing himself in front, animating his soldiers by his actions and gesticulations, for his voice was drowned by the noise of musquetry and cannon; till these intrepid fellows, led on by their[282] beloved commander, passed the bridge, amidst showers of cannon balls, silencing the artillery, and throwing the main body of Beaulieu’s army in such disorder, that he fled with haste towards Mantua; having lost in this action twenty field pieces, and in killed, wounded, and prisoners, above two thousand men.”

Although pressed for time, we could not deny ourselves the pleasure of passing over this renowned bridge; on arriving at the opposite side, we had the additional gratification of meeting with a beautiful maid of Lodi, at the wash-tub; and who appeared to interest my friend greatly, although he remarked that he had already seen several handsome females at Lodi.

After a hasty dinner at the Gambero, or sign of the Lobster, our vittureno came to inform us, that he was unable to get his coach repaired in time, but that another was waiting, which would take us on to Milan. Thus we were transferred to a third coach; we had some suspicion that this last was a convenient arrangement between the two drivers, to enable the one who had brought us from Placentia to avoid going on with two passengers only; while, at the same time, it gave the other a full complement. However, we had no reason to complain, the road was good, and our new driver ran us into Milan, a distance of twenty miles, in three hours, and with a single pair of horses only.

On arriving at Milan, we took up our residence at the Croci di Malta, which is one of the most convenient houses in this place for foreigners, as it has an excellent table d’hôte. The next day, Sunday, was exceedingly cold, notwithstanding which, we commenced our examination of this fine old city.

We first visited the magnificent cathedral, built entirely of white marble; to the very top of which we ascended, by a flight of five hundred and twelve steps. But it is better that I should borrow a description of this most noble edifice, than attempt an imperfect one of my own.

“It is situated almost in the centre of the city, and occupies part of the great square; it is of Gothic architecture, and its materials are white marble. In magnitude, this edifice yields to few in the universe. Inferior only to St. Peter’s of Rome; it equals in length, and in breadth surpasses the cathedrals of Florence and St. Paul’s: in the interior elevation, it yields to both; but in its exterior, it exceeds both; in its fretwork, carving, and statues, it goes beyond all churches[284] in the world, St. Peter’s itself not even excepted. Its double aisles, its lofty arches, the lustre of its walls, its numerous niches all filled with marble figures, give it an appearance novel, even in Italy, and singularly majestic. In the front of the chancel, and almost immediately above the steps, rises on four additional steps the altar, and behind it the choir, in a semicircular form. The pillars of the cathedral of Milan are more than ninety feet in height, and about eighty in diameter. The dimensions of the church at large are as follow: in length, four hundred and ninety feet, in breadth, two hundred and ninety-eight, in interior elevation under the dome, two hundred and fifty-eight, and four hundred in exterior, that is, to the summit of the tower. The pavement is formed of marble of different colours, disposed in various patterns and figures. The number of niches are very great, and every niche has its statue, which, together with those placed on the ballustrade of the roof, are reported to amount to more than four thousand; and many among them are said to be of great merit.

“Over the dome rises a tower or spire; in ascending this, the traveller will observe that the roof of the church is covered with solid blocks of marble, which are connected together by a powerful cement, which possesses not only the durability[285] and hardness, but the colour also of the marble itself; so that the eye of the observer scarcely perceives the points and lines in which the joinings are made, and the whole roof appears to be composed of one immense sheet of the finest white, and polished marble. The singularity and uncommon splendour of this roof, cannot perhaps be adequately described. The prospect of the surrounding country, and objects from the summit of this tower, is grand and very extensive; it includes the whole city, and the luxuriant plain of Milan; shews its intersection in every part, with rivers and canals, its beautiful display of gardens, orchards, vineyards, and groves; and its numerous and interesting villages and towns; and extends to the neighbouring Alps, which unite their bleak ridges with the milder, and more distant Appennines, and seem to compose a grand and natural frame, to this picture of beauty and interest. In its materials, the cathedral of Milan certainly surpasses all the churches in the universe, the noblest of which are only lined and coated with marble, while this is entirely built, paved, vaulted, and roofed, with the same substance, and that of the whitest, and most resplendent kind.”

After examining the cathedral, we visited the gardens in the neighbourhood of the Porta Orientale,[286] where there are frequently dancing and a variety of other entertainments, on a Sunday evening, but the day was unfavourable for these diversions. From hence, we extended our walk to Porta Roma along the new boulevards, formed by the Austrians within the last two years, and which are become the fashionable promenade, and drive, of Milan.

The next day was also an unpropitious one; indeed it appears, that the neighbourhood of the Alps has a most unfavourable influence on the climate; and in winter must make it extremely cold and damp. We visited this morning the theatre of La Scala, at the time under repair. Walking over the pit and stage, we took the opportunity of comparing its size, with that of St. Carlos at Naples; at first my friend imagined it smaller, but before we left, he was inclined to think the point doubtful; but it must be recollected, that the estimate was made under very different circumstances, the latter being lighted up and full of company, while the present one was empty, and en dishabille.

We met with many friends at Milan, and spent our time agreeably enough, but from circumstances, were induced to hasten our departure sooner than we intended; in consequence we were prevented from visiting some of the most interesting parts of the city, as the various churches, the coliseum[287] of Napoleon, and the triumphal arch, erected in honour of him, over one of the gates; the lazaretto, the mint, the museum, the minor theatres, and various other places. The city itself, is one of the most intricate I ever met with, the streets so numerous, short, and narrow, that we had never been more perplexed to find our way.

We were induced to leave Milan, as I before remarked, sooner than at first intended; this was in consequence of the difficulty experienced in procuring a satisfactory conveyance to Geneva.

We had flattered ourselves, that we could have made arrangements to accompany some Swiss gentlemen in their voiture, which would have afforded us an opportunity of gaining much agreeable information from them, but in this we were disappointed. As a preparatory measure, a day or two before we proposed to depart, we entered into various negotiations with different vitturenos, all of which we were obliged to conduct with the greatest caution, and which became abortive, from some determination or other to impose upon us.

We had actually engaged one to convey us to Geneva, for a considerable sum, under the full explanation of its being intended to cover the usual expenses of supper, &c. but when he was desired to sign the agreement, he pretended that these necessaries were not to be included.

At length, on Tuesday the 10th, we met a vittureno,[288] who was departing in the morning, with the intention of taking the route of Turin; when viewing the little chance we had of getting any conveyance, which would take the passage of the Simplon for some days, we determined to embrace the opportunity, and immediately entered into an arrangement with him, to convey us to Geneva, resting two days at Turin, bearing our expenses for supper and beds each night, while actually travelling, for which we agreed to pay him four Napoleons and a half each; this as the journey would occupy nine days, we thought a reasonable bargain. The expense of travelling is considered to increase on leaving Italy, and passing through Switzerland, particularly by the way of the Simplon, in consequence of the great number of barriers on that road; but I became convinced from experience, that the real difference of expense, is nothing equal to what the proprietors of the voitures would wish one to suppose. The Swiss drivers appear far more acute than the French or the Italians, for the cunning of the latter is easily detected; while the manners of the former are more sagacious and collected. One in particular, impressed me so strongly with his archness of expression, that my imagination leads me to suppose, if my powers of sight would admit of a use of the pencil, I could at this instant depict his portrait, as correctly as if I had actually seen him.

We left Milan on Tuesday, July the 11th, early in the morning of a very fine day, in the largest, and most elegant voiture which I had met with in France or Italy, having only two companions; one, a lady with her lap-dog, who, although she was not very young, was witty and amusing; the other, a singular character of a Frenchman, an ex-colonel of the army of Bonaparte, and who amused us by his eccentricities. He had fought in the battle of Waterloo, and afterwards, been deprived of his pension and half pay, as well as for a time banished the kingdom. He had received a variety of wounds in Egypt, and other parts of the world. My friend informed me that his appearance was shabby, although he talked of having a very rich wife at Lyons. According to his own account, he was at this time carrying on, in a large way, the business of a horse-dealer; and boasted of supplying various princes, and noblemen, with Arabian and other fine horses. Soon after leaving Milan, we passed a voiture, from the outside of which, a trunk had just been stolen.[290] Fifteen miles from Milan, we crossed the Tesseno, which cost us eight centimes per head. This river takes its rise from Mount St. Gothard, and falls into the Po. Soon afterwards, we entered the Piedmontese states, and after the customary examinations, reached Novara for breakfast, having travelled thirty-five miles from Milan. Novara is an ancient city, but of no great note. After breakfast, we proceeded on our journey, and in the afternoon, crossed two small rivers, where they took a toll, not only for our carriage and horses, but ourselves also. About six o’clock, we arrived at Verceil, a very ancient city, with narrow, ill-paved streets, and a scanty population. A number of Austrian troops, who had occupied Piedmont in support of the royalist party, were quartered at this place, and sacrilegiously using the cathedral as stables. We understood that all the principal towns, with the exception of Turin itself, probably in consequence of a particular request, or as a point of delicacy, were at this time under the charge of the Austrians.

On the following morning, we breakfasted at St. Germano, and passed several rivers, with good modern bridges over them. Whenever we inquired how they came by such fine roads and bridges, the reply always attributed them to Bonaparte, so that if he had robbed their churches and monasteries,[291] he had left them many a recompense; and they were willing to admit, that he usefully employed the poor in improving their country, and liberally patronized the arts.

Between seven and eight in the evening, we entered Turin, and in the morning directed our first attention to getting our passports properly arranged for our future journey; with this view we attended the police; and afterwards the Sardinian minister, where they demanded four francs from each of us for his signature. After this we walked about the town, where my friend expressed himself uncommonly pleased with the grandeur, beauty, and regularity of the buildings, streets, squares, and shops. The inhabitants generally addressed us in French, which gave us much the impression of a French town. After dinner we visited the queen’s villa, situated on the top of a hill, half a mile out of the town, in our way to which we crossed the Po (which has its source twenty-five miles above Turin, in the recesses of Monte Viso), over a magnificent bridge of five arches, built by the French, the approach to which was through a noble street, bearing the name of the river, with arcades on either side of it. The villa possesses a most commanding view of the city, river, and country around it, but contains nothing particularly good, except that the[292] gardens are well laid out. After this we returned to the city, and promenaded the bank of the river, but were obliged to desist from extending our ramble by the coming on of a rainy evening. After breakfast the next day, we renewed our examination of the city, visiting the boulevards, and other parts, but were again compelled to return by the weather. On this account we took shelter in a caffé, where we observed in the papers, the first official account of the death of Napoleon, a rumour of which had reached us before we left Florence.

It continued raining the remainder of the day, and we employed ourselves in writing letters, and making preparations for our departure on the morrow, being obliged to forego visiting the churches, palaces, theatres, and other interesting objects of the place. It is true, we looked into two or three churches, but they seemed to possess nothing out of the ordinary way. The streets of Turin, particularly the new part, being laid out at right angles, makes it easy to traverse the town; we could not but notice the thinness of population, notwithstanding we knew the city[293] was proportionally thickly inhabited—this was no doubt to be partly accounted for, from numbers having, during the summer season, retired to their country-seats, and partly to the late political occurrences, which have created a great distrust, and suspicion of those who remained, many of whom were at this time apprehensive of arrest and imprisonment, on account of their conduct or opinions, so that they were afraid to stir from out of their houses—nay, many had actually absconded on these accounts. But I do not profess to detail the political history of the countries I visited.

On Sunday, the 15th of July, we took our leave of Turin, with six new passengers in our voiture. We passed through Rivoli, which has a royal palace, to Ambrogia, where we breakfasted; we now entered defiles of mountains, the road becoming heavy; the rain, however, which had been before incessant through the morning, began to clear off, and we had a fine afternoon, which in some respects compensated for the badness of the roads. A new road from Turin to Susa, has lately been laid out by the Sardinian government, part of which we traversed, but found it at present very uncomfortable, consisting of a mere bed of stones. We reached Susa, about seven o’clock, an ancient town, situated[294] amidst rocky eminences, on the banks of the Dura, here a small stream, but before it reaches Turin, increased into a considerable river.

The town of Susa is more respectable than we had expected to find it, but thinly inhabited, as notwithstanding it was a fine Sunday’s evening, very few people were walking about. My friend remarked, both here and in the places we had passed through this day, that the men were of diminutive stature, and ludicrously dressed, wearing cocked-hats, very long tails, and black breeches, and frequently without either shoes or stockings.

In the morning we set out from Susa at three o’clock, with the voiture drawn by five mules, our driver reserving his horses until we had ascended Mount Cenis. Soon after leaving Susa, we travelled over an alternation of moderate acclivity and level ground, until we passed Novalese, when the road became steep, notwithstanding it was sound and good, and occasionally took a winding direction to diminish the labour of ascent. About half-way up, we passed a miserable village, named Ferrieres. At this point we rested a while, that my friend might contemplate the stupendous and sublime scenery, amidst which we had been for some time making our progress.

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From hence to the summit, we observed several detached habitations at short distances from each other, intended for the residences of the people stationed here by government, to keep open the road during the winter, by clearing away the falls of snow, and rocks which might shelve down from the surrounding mountains; or to give shelter to the way-worn or benighted traveller. These men are thought to be well paid, receiving three francs a day, but they fully deserve it, for their situation is, in my opinion, most unenviable.

My friend observed a gallery cut out of the solid rock, which had formerly been used as a road, but which from apprehension of danger in that direction, had fallen into disuse.

At the top of this mountain is situated a plain termed San Nicolo, a stone terminus placed on which, by its inscription, informs the traveller that he is now quitting Italy, and entering Savoy. Then farewell Italy! we exclaimed;—but I shall leave to the reader’s imagination, the feelings with which we quitted this highly favoured country;[296] nor shall I, for good reasons, attempt to depict the magnificent scene which is to be witnessed from this commanding elevation of six thousand feet above the level of the sea, over the beautiful plains of Piedmont in the distance, with the sublime Alpine features, which were extended around us, and beneath our feet; but in lieu of this, I shall beg leave to introduce the spirited description of Lord Byron, in his translation of Dante’s prophecy.

We found the air on Mount Cenis particularly keen, and it failed not to produce a corresponding effect upon our appetites, nor was this to be wondered at, as we had now been travelling seven hours without breakfast. Our driver was, however,[297] quite unwilling to indulge us with a quarter of an hour for the purpose of quieting these sensations; nor did we carry the point, until we insisted upon it peremptorily. After all, we could only get a hasty repast of tea and bread and butter; whereas we were strongly tempted by some beautiful trout, which had just arrived from out of a neighbouring lake of considerable size and unfathomable depth, situated in the centre of the plain.

The plain of San Nicolo is about six miles in length, and four broad; and notwithstanding its great elevation, was at this time free from snow, and covered with flowers and verdure. It is encompassed on all sides by the Alpine ridges, the highest of which rises three thousand feet still above it, and is clothed with eternal snow. It was from the top of this plain that Hannibal is said to have pointed out the rich fields of Italy to his wearied army.

At the distance of about a mile from the inn where we had taken refreshment, we arrived at a fort, within the walls of which stands the convent of Saint Bernard. We were detained here to have our passports examined. On the plain a considerable quantity of stone was lying on the road side, which was white as snow; my companions fancied it marble; it felt, however, to me of closer texture,[298] and both heavier and harder than any marble I had ever met with; I carried off a piece, as a specimen, which proves to be a peculiarly hard sulphate of lime.

At length we began to descend the north side of the mountain, and at the foot of it entered the town of Lanslebourg, where we had our regular breakfast. At this place our party were imposed upon by an old woman, who pretended to be a hundred and seven years of age, and which she professed to prove by a certificate of her grandmother’s baptism, which she passed off as her own; before we left, our landlady exposed the imposition, informing us, that she obtrudes this certificate upon all travellers who pass that way.

The road, this afternoon, was hilly, narrow, and rough; we made, however, only a short stage, stopping to sleep at Modane. The inn at this place was full of Sardinian troops, on which account we took the precaution to have our baggage removed into our bed-rooms, for my friend C⸺ had the cord whipped from off his trunk before he could look around him. We found a peculiar difficulty in explaining our wishes to have this arrangement effected, to the female who waited upon us; my friend, who was a very superior linguist, essayed in vain to make her comprehend our intentions, until at length we[299] discovered that she was both deaf and dumb; she possessed, however, extraordinary acuteness, and could be made to understand almost any thing by signs; she afterwards waited upon us well at supper, and in conveying our luggage to the coach on the following morning.

We breakfasted the next day at St. Jean de Maurienne, a small town, with narrow streets, situated in the middle of the Alps. On our way from hence to Aigue Bella, where we rested for the night, we passed an unfinished fort, which his Sardinian majesty is by treaty compelled to erect at this spot.

Wednesday the 18th was a fine warm day. We breakfasted at Montmelian, famous for its wines, both white and red, and particularly the latter.

Since descending Mount Cenis, the roads have been very indifferent, but the country highly romantic; to-day we passed a number of waterfalls, and repeatedly crossed the river R⸺; at half after one we arrived at Chambery, the capital of Savoy, where we dined, and staid all night. This town is delightfully situated, and has many pleasant walks about it; the streets are, however, narrow, and the pavements bad. We were informed that it abounded with the necessaries of life, which were to be purchased at a reasonable rate. The whole of our journey from Mount[300] Cenis had impressed us with the feeling of being in France, as we heard nothing but that language, and the patois of the country.

Our companions from Turin all quitted us at Chambery; but in the morning we took up two young gentlemen from Lyons, who were going to the baths of Aix; one of them, however, when we had proceeded five miles, found out that he had left his portmanteau behind him at Chambery, and returned to look after it.

We arrived at Aix les Baignes for breakfast, after which we took a cursory view of the town and baths, which were built by the Emperor Gratian, and with both of which we were much pleased. I attempted in vain, to ascertain the nature of the waters; they referred me to a book-seller, who shewed me a treatise in praise of their virtues, but all the information I could gain respecting the point in question, was, that they contained sulphur; which we had previously detected by the test of our noses.

After leaving Aix, we proceeded to Ramilly; about midway between these places is a waterfall on the right, but at a distance from the road, which is visited by most of the strangers who take the waters at Aix.

In the evening we reached Frangy, where, notwithstanding we had travelled by ourselves in the[301] voiture, we were not without a supper party, for we were favoured with the company of no less than four vitturenos. They were so far pleasant company, that they treated us with respect, and amused us with their conversation respecting the number of their passengers, fares, &c.

On Friday, the 20th of July, we set off in great spirits, in the prospect of reaching Geneva for breakfast; soon after leaving Frangy, which lies in a deep galley, we began to ascend a steep mountain, the top of which, it took us four hours to arrive at; this accomplished, we descended again, and shortly afterwards entered Switzerland, that country—

At eleven o’clock we made our entry into the city of Geneva.

On arriving at Geneva, we took up our residence at the Hotel de Corona, and discharged our vittureno, a little dark-looking Savoyard, but with a great oddity of temper, being either in the extreme of sulkiness, or good humour; he was, however, so quietly disposed, that he slept the greater part of the way, either on his horses or in the cabriolet. The manner in which he took his leave of us was singular enough; after inquiring whether we were satisfied with his attentions, and being answered in the affirmative, he proceeded to say that he did not ask for a buona-mana, as he knew such a donative was excluded by our agreement, but that he hoped we would give something, no matter whether a franc or a Napoleon, to prove that we were satisfied with him.

When at Edinburgh, I had formed an acquaintance with a gentleman of this place, Dr. P⸺; one of my first objects was to find him out, and I had the pleasure of succeeding: after expressing[303] much surprise, he kindly offered me his services during our stay at Geneva.

The short time we remained at this interesting place, made it impossible that we could enjoy all the gratifications which it was capable of affording; we determined, however, to make the most of the little time which we could afford.

Amongst the incidents which I reflect upon with the greatest pleasure, I must place the very interesting visit we paid to M. Huber, so well known in the literary world for his acute observations in Natural History, and, particularly, his patient and extraordinary investigation of the habits and economy of that valuable insect, the common honey-gathering bee. There existed a sympathy and fellow-feeling, between this amiable man and myself, of no common kind, for we had both of us long been excluded from all enjoyment of the “visual ray;” forty years before, and in the prime of life, M. Huber had the misfortune to lose his sight. Besides his superior acquaintance with natural history, M. Huber is a deep mathematician, and accomplished musician.

Before the present personal introduction, we were, however, not entirely unknown to each other, as through the medium of Dr. P⸺, when at Edinburgh, we had exchanged mutual compliments.

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At this time he was residing at his country house, about a mile and a half from Geneva. We here found him walking alone in his garden, for which purpose, he has a string extended along a particular walk, which assists in guiding his steps with confidence, when engaged in deep mental research.

But, notwithstanding the public and literary character of M. Huber is so highly estimated, it is in the bosom of his family that his worth is most to be appreciated: his integrity, benevolence, and urbanity, have secured the respect and affection of all around him. He has been particularly fortunate in the companion of his domestic happiness. We had the pleasure of being introduced to Madame H⸺, the following traits of whose character cannot fail to do her the highest honour. M. H⸺ and herself had formed an attachment for each other, before his loss of sight; after this misfortune, her friends urged her to think no more of him; but neither her affection nor magnanimity would allow her to desert in adversity that being whom she had loved in prosperity; they were married, and she has had the exalted gratification of having bestowed a comfortable independence upon a worthy man, with whom she has now most happily descended far into the vale of life.

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One of the sons of M. H⸺, emulating the literary character of his father, has distinguished himself by an Essay on the Economy of the Ant; a work which has been thought worthy of translation into foreign languages.

M. Huber’s reception of me was cordial and flattering; and, after too short a visit for the full gratification of my feelings, I was obliged to tear myself away, impressed with indelible sentiments of respect and veneration for this truly amiable man, and indefatigable philosopher.

The town of Geneva, which contains twenty-three thousand inhabitants, is by no means highly impressive in its appearance and buildings; it derives its interest, chiefly, from the beauty and grandeur of the surrounding scenery, and the energies of its inhabitants, having been the favoured residence of some of the most celebrated characters that have existed.

The inhabitants are, almost to an individual, possessed of superior intellectual powers; no doubt the result of the extended system of education which prevails, and which is supported by various charities, both public and private, so that the poorest native has opportunities of acquiring, what may almost be termed, a liberal education. I could not be otherwise than forcibly impressed, with the similarity of character and pursuits, between[306] the inhabitants of this town and those of Edinburgh.

There is a celebrated academy at Geneva, which possesses twelve professors, and no less than six hundred students, and is adorned by an immense and valuable library, to which the pupils have free access.

The female part of the community also shew a superiority of intellect, of which I experienced various instances. We found the ladies whom we had the pleasure of being acquainted with, almost universally well versed in polite literature, and frequently acquainted with the English and German languages. I was much amused with the acuteness displayed by the young woman of a shop, which I entered to purchase a straw hat; and which was, at the same time, combined with great simplicity and naiveté. I can scarcely express the quickness and readiness of manner with which she attended to my wants, and the determination she shewed that I should be suited. She was both young and pretty, and I could not forbear venturing an inquiry, whether she was married, by asking her, if I was correct in addressing her as Mademoiselle, to which she frankly replied, with an air of evident satisfaction, almost amounting to exultation, “Non Monsieur, Je ne suis pas marié encore, mais je serai dans un mois.” And I believe the[307] favoured swain was not far distant, for my friend observed a handsome young man on the qui vive about the door, with his eyes frequently directed towards her.

On Sunday, we were favoured with an invitation to breakfast with Dr. P⸺, whose father is a banker of this city; our entertainment was of a splendid kind, à la fourchette. Breakfast being concluded, we left the ladies, and went to hear divine service, with the manner of performing which we were highly pleased. After this we walked upon the ramparts. Geneva, however, is only partially fortified, and not capable of sustaining an energetic siege; as it was found, in the revolutionary war, to be commanded by the high grounds around it.

The town, as is well known, is situated on the banks of the Rhone, and near to the magnificent lake which now bears its name. It was formerly termed Lake Leman, or Lacus Lemanus, and is formed by the waters of the Rhone, which discharge themselves into this expanded form near Villeneuve; it is said to lie eleven or twelve hundred feet above the level of the sea, surrounded by the Alps; amongst which Mont Blanc, with its two remarkable ridges on each side, or epaules as they are termed, towers conspicuously.

At length we were compelled, with much reluctance, to prosecute our journey. We had[308] hoped to have found conveyances to Lausanne by water, along the beautiful lake, but were disappointed, as the passage is considered dangerous, in consequence of the sudden gusts of wind which come down the valleys. The only vessels which are used on the lake, are for the purposes of fishing and conveying wood, &c. I suggested the advantages of the steam-boat, which the smoothness of the water seemed particularly adapted for; but it was objected that the intercourse between the two places, was not sufficient to compensate the measure. They seemed unaware that the establishment of such a conveyance, would be the means of forming the necessary intercourse. In short the Swiss have not the principles of a maritime nation amongst them.

We engaged our places for Lausanne in the post diligence, which cost us each five francs Swiss, equal to seven francs and a half French; before, however, we entered the coach, they made an additional and heavy charge for the baggage, which, after in vain remonstrating against, we were compelled to pay. We might have travelled to Lausanne, not only without this expense, but even for a minor fare, had we looked out for one of the voitures which are constantly running between these places.

We left Geneva, in company with three ladies,[309] one of whom was of a certain age, and appeared to have the other two, who were much younger, under her protection; the elder of the young ladies spoke English fluently, and undoubtedly had had a superior education; the youngest, who was more reserved, was a languishing beauty, with a pair of such expressive and brilliant black eyes, that my friend, who unfortunately sat directly opposed to their effects, was completely dazzled and confused. I was myself unfortunately unconscious of a proximity to such attractive orbs.

Our conversation was chiefly carried on in English, which was not using the elderly lady fairly, as she was totally unacquainted with that language. Amongst other inquiries, we requested the explanation of a circumstance which had much impressed us at Geneva; namely, why the ladies are generally seen on the public walks in large groupes, without any gentleman in company with them. This we were told was to be attributed to the gentlemen, being almost universally members of some learned society or other; the intercourse with which they prefer, to the more sentimental conversation of the ladies. In revenge for this neglect, however, the ladies have also their exclusive associations, which, they maintain, afford them more pleasure and independence, than they could derive from converse with the other sex.[310] I must confess myself sceptical as to the actual indifference of the ladies; and pity most sincerely the Genevese gentlemen, for thus rejecting the influence of the softer sex.

The road to Lausanne lies alongside the lake, through a delightful country abounding with vineyards, which produce the esteemed vin de la Côte. We passed through the little towns of Nyons, Rouge, and Morges, taking leave of our agreeable companions at the latter, and arriving at Lausanne between two and three o’clock in the afternoon. Before entering the town, we were amused with the economical ostentation of our driver, who threw off a shabby old travelling dress, and put on a fine red coat.

We found the Lion d’Or, to which we had been recommended, quite full; when recollecting that I had an old college friend, Dr. V⸺, residing at this place, we bent our steps to his house, with a view of requesting him to recommend us an hotel; accordingly he had the kindness to send his servant, to secure apartments at the Hotel D’Angleterre; at the same time insisting upon our dining with him. After dinner, Dr. V⸺ conducted us to the Jardin d’Arc, where a society of gentlemen[311] archers assemble in the evening for their amusement: this is the spot from whence the panoramic view of Lausanne, lately exhibited in London, was taken.

On the following day we visited the cathedral, and walked over the town; the former is an ancient building, standing upon very high ground, but which by its commanding view, I am informed, fully repays the trouble of ascent.

In the evening we entered the circle literaire, an establishment furnished with a good library, and where the newspapers and many other periodical publications are taken in. One of the rules of this society is, that no stranger can be admitted twice.

On Friday the 27th, we set out at an early hour, in a carriage called a char, resembling a sofa placed lengthways on wheels, with a curtained canopy over head, and an apron below, to protect the traveller from the weather, to visit my friend R⸺, whom I have before mentioned both at Toulouse and Montpellier, and who had since taken a wife, and fixed himself near Vevay.

The road to Vevay throughout lies by the side of the lake, and is so narrow, being bounded by a wall on each side, that it is impossible that two carriages could pass each other. The sides of the mountains that bound the road on the left, and[312] which are so steep as to appear inaccessible, are richly clothed with vineyards, artfully formed into terraces, rising in tiers, one above the other. These terraces are formed by strong and high stone walls, which preserve the soil from shelving down, and are ascended by flights of steps. The vineyards thus formed, are exposed to frequent injuries, and often to utter destruction, by the rapid impulse of the mountain torrents descending from above, and which occasionally sweep away wall, terrace, and vines, in one indiscriminate ruin. These natural visitations are, however, borne by the Swiss peasant with resignation; and notwithstanding he may have lost the whole harvest of his hopes, he immediately applies himself, to repair the injury, burying the past in the anticipation of the future.

On arriving at Vevay, we found my friend on the look out for us, and were immediately conducted to his house two miles beyond the town, and introduced to his lady. After breakfast he took us to the famous prison of Chillon, the subject of one of Lord Byron’s eccentric poems, and which was three miles distant. Here, in the year 1530, the patriot Bonnivard was doomed, by the duke of Savoy, to a confinement of six years, in one of its most dismal dungeons.

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We entered this celebrated vault, and examined the seven “pillars of Gothic mould,” but which, at present, retain only four of the seven rings described by our poet, three pillars being without them; the chains, said to have been connected with these rings, have entirely disappeared.

After spending a very happy day, we were obliged, but with the greatest regret, to leave our kind friend at an early hour, as we had to prepare for our intended departure from Lausanne early on the following morning.

But we were disappointed in our latter views, owing partly to the weather, and partly to the difficulty of procuring a suitable conveyance; we secured, however, places in a voiture for the following morning, and made ourselves perfectly ready for setting out.

In the morning, at an early hour, we were prepared for our journey. We waited until six o’clock, when a man came to look at our luggage, after which, a variety of excuses were sent, which terminated[314] in our being informed, that the voiture would not go that day, but that we might be sent in a char to Berne, for which town, we had taken our places. For a time, we insisted on the fulfilment of our agreement, but, beginning to apprehend we should otherwise be prevented from getting away to-day, we at length agreed to put up with the char. It was accordingly brought forward; on placing, however, my friend’s trunk behind it, this was found too large to be attached, without a risk of injury on both sides. In consequence, they were obliged eventually to convey us in the voiture; I am convinced, that in obtaining this point, we were indebted entirely to their fears of offending Dr. V⸺.

I cannot leave Lausanne without paying the due tribute of gratitude to this gentleman and his worthy father, for their kind attentions during our stay at that place.

After leaving Lausanne, we arrived at Maudon about noon, where we dined with an English party that came in soon after ourselves. We afterwards proceeded to Payerne, where we rested for the night. At this place, a small, but short down-bed was placed loosely over the coverlet, so that one slept both under a bed, and over a bed; this is not uncommon in various parts of the continent; but however comfortable the custom may be in winter, it was by no means agreeable at midsummer.

On the following morning, after leaving Payerne, we passed through the ancient town of Avenche, and the neat one of Morat, close to a lake of the same name. We stopped to dine at the village of Gummingen, situated on the banks of the Sarine, over which, there is a covered wooden bridge, and which is distant about four leagues from Berne. From hence we ascended a steep hill, from the top of which, the town and lake of Neuchatel are visible. At half after six in the evening, we arrived at Berne, where, finding the principal inn full, we were obliged to put up with[316] a secondary one; however we were well accommodated.

We employed the following morning in examining this interesting city: we promenaded the ramparts, and the fine public walk near to the cathedral, which is greatly admired for its commanding view. This was once the only public walk which the town possessed, but a new one said to surpass it in magnificence, has been formed along a high bank on the side of the Aar, which looks proudly upon the city and country, with the Glaciers in their vicinity.

Berne is built with much regularity and some magnificence; the houses are chiefly of white free-stone, and uniform in their height and appearance; in the principal streets, piazzas are erected on each side, over foot-paths elevated some height above the carriage road, through the centre of which, runs a small and rapid stream led off from the Aar, which gives a refreshing coolness to this part of the town, and, at the same time, promotes its cleanliness.

The public buildings are particularly fine, especially the cathedral, churches, and the arsenal.

My friend was much amused with the costume of the Bernoise females, and in particular the peasantry from the country, who came to supply the markets; their head-dress was very peculiar,[317] and they wore curious black cloth petticoats, so short as not to reach the knee, with white stockings. The ladies and towns-women, however, have adopted the greater length of petticoat.

On Wednesday, the 1st of August, we set off in a carriage, termed a berlin, for Basle, distant eighteen leagues, paying as many francs each for our places, and in company with a French gentleman, and a Bernoise woman, in the dress of her canton. We arrived at Soleure for dinner, which is an agreeable little town on the banks of the Aar; the houses are particularly neat and clean, and at the same time built with considerable taste. We visited the catholic cathedral, which is a remarkably neat modern structure.

The country between Soleure and Basle is very hilly, and regarded as beautiful beyond description. We slept at a village five leagues from Basle, at which place we arrived about noon on the following day.

We took up our residence at the Three Kings, situated on the banks of the Rhine, over which majestic river, the windows of our apartment projected. This town, except in point of situation, is very inferior to Berne.

After dinner, we crossed the river by a wooden bridge to Little Basle, with a view of inquiring into the possibility of getting down the Rhine by[318] boat; for we found there were no passage boats, as we had been led to expect. We were informed that a boat was loading, which would probably set off in a day or two days’ time; but, upon consideration, were induced to prefer accompanying the French gentleman with whom we had travelled from Berne, and who was proceeding by diligence on the following morning.

We remarked a custom peculiar to this place, which, however, has, I believe, been noticed by several travellers, that of keeping the clock one hour in advance of the regular time. The following explanation of the origin of this custom has been given. The magistrates having received information of a plan to make a sudden attack on the city at one o’clock on the morning, ordered the town-clock to be put forward an hour. The enemy, hearing it strike two, considered that their design had been discovered, and abandoned the attempt. In commemoration of the event, it has ever since been kept an hour in advance.

We left Basle for Strasburg, at eight o’clock in the morning of the 3rd of August, and entered France at the little town of St. Louis, where our baggage underwent the strictest examination which we had yet experienced, in consequence of the extensive illicit introduction of Swiss manufactures, and particularly cambrics, into France.[319] A merchant, who was in our company, informed us, that when once travelling in a carriage of his own, the officers threatened to break it to pieces, unless he declared in what part the illicit goods, which they were convinced he had with him, were concealed, stating that they had information of its having been constructed for that express purpose; they were only prevented from putting their threats into execution, by his declaring, that as it contained nothing contraband, he would certainly compel them to make good the damage.

We dined at Mulhausen, famous for its fine printed cambrics, silks, and calicoes, and where we were amused, as well as benefited, by the economy of one of our French companions, who proposed, as it was an early hour for dinner, that we should take only a petit dinér, and which would be charged half-price: we assented to his proposal, and certainly had as good and full a dinner as we could wish, consisting of soup, entré, rôti, vegetables, a dessert, and un demi-bottaile du vin.

We reached Colmar about seven o’clock, where we rested three hours, after which we travelled all night, arriving at Strasburg at four o’clock in the morning, and taking up our quarters at the Maison Rouge. After dinner we walked to a bridge of pontoons over the Rhine, about a league distant[320] from the city, which we crossed, to the gates of the small town of Kehl; on our way back, we found the bar of a bridge over one of the tributary streams to the Rhine closed; our passage was thus obstructed, but we got over it without difficulty, an offence for which we only escaped arrest by pleading, as strangers, our ignorance of the regulation. On our arrival at Strasburg, also, we were but just in time to enter before the gates were shut; had we been a little later, we must inevitably have been excluded for the night.

On the next day, Sunday, we visited the noble Gothic cathedral, which possesses the highest and finest steeple in the world, the summit being five hundred and seventy-four feet from the ground. This we ascended, and I had the temerity to mount some feet higher than my companions, which procured me a severe lecture; I had no small difficulty to convince them that the sense of touch, on which I depended, was less likely to deceive than the eye, when the dizzy height would make the

This cathedral is remarkable for the numerous allegorical figures about it, intended to expose the licentious and crafty characters of the Monks of former times. We had the works of the renowned clock, once one of the wonders of Europe, laid[321] open to us, and which describes the various revolutions of the heavenly bodies.

On our return, we found a military parade in the place where our hotel stood, the band of which played a variety of fine airs.

On inquiring respecting conveyances down the Rhine, they informed us, that the Coche d’Eau, which only goes once a week, had unfortunately set out the morning of our arrival; and as the diligence goes but twice a week (on Mondays and Thursdays) we lost no time in securing our places for the morrow, as far as Spire, being led to hope that we should find water conveyance, from that place to Mayence.

We might indeed have gone down the river in a trading boat, numbers of which are frequently going from, or passing by Strasburg; but the accommodations are not to be depended upon, and there was some uncertainty in their arrival and departure.

In the evening, after securing our places, we walked into the public gardens, from whence a balloon was sent off, and which was constructed in the shape of a wine cask, with a Bacchus astride it. This was succeeded by a display of fire-works, with music and dancing.

We left Strasburg at half after six in the morning still in company with our former French companion. In addition, we had, in our diligence, two elderly French ladies, who were very chatty and agreeable; they quitted us, however, in the afternoon, when in lieu of them, we took in a very nice young woman going to her husband at Gemmingen; and a merchant’s clerk, who had previously been occupying the cabriolet. At eight in the evening we arrived at Landau, were we slept at a most comfortable inn.

The whole of the next day was alternately fine and showery. When we had travelled two leagues from Landau, the spring of the carriage broke down, and detained us two hours. We noticed that the wife of the blacksmith, who repaired it, assisted her husband throughout the process, and appeared even the more dexterous of the two. On entering Gemmingen, however, their work gave way, and we were in consequence detained two hours longer; even this afterwards broke out again, but fortunately just as we reached the end of our journey. These delays were mortifying[323] enough, as we did not reach Spire until three in the afternoon, instead of nine o’clock in the morning, as we had expected.

On our arrival at Spire, we might have proceeded forward immediately in the diligence to Mayence, and which our French companion availed himself of, but we preferred waiting until morning, in the hope of finding a conveyance by water. We were however disappointed, and obliged in the morning to leave Spire in a double bodied diligence, the back part of which we had to ourselves. We breakfasted at the Red Lion at Frankendal, a circumstance which I more particularly mention, because I was highly pleased with the attentive and feeling manner in which an interesting young woman waited upon me.

About two leagues beyond this place, there is a bridge over the Rhine, leading to the beautiful town of Manheim, situated on the opposite bank of the river. After this we passed through Oppenheim, Worms and Inheim, dining at the latter, and then proceeding to Mayence, where we arrived about five o’clock, and took up our quarters at the Three Crowns, an excellent inn, to which we had been recommended by our French friend, who had left us at Spire, under a promise of rejoining us here. He shortly afterwards came in and informed us, that besides arranging his[324] own business, he had ascertained that a large boat sets out for Coblentz every morning at six o’clock, the fare in which was six francs, with an additional trifle for the luggage; this vessel, after stopping to dine at Bingen, arrives at Coblentz, a distance of eighteen leagues, between six and nine o’clock in the evening, according to the state of the wind; for sails are made use of whenever the latter is favourable. In consequence of this report, we determined to secure our passage for the morrow.

Mayence is an interesting town, and the bridge over the Rhine, fortifications, and promenades, worthy the attention of the traveller. There are a number of water-mills moored on the river, which make a singular appearance. The town was at this time garrisoned by a medley of Austrian, Prussian, and Brandenburgh troops.

The morning proved, unfortunately, both cold and showery, and of course unfavourable for our journey by water. At six o’clock we left Mayence. Notwithstanding the disadvantages of weather my friend was highly interested by the beautiful scenery displayed on the banks of this magnificent river, consisting of castles, ruins, villages, and picturesque cottages, bounded by vine-clad mountains. On the right we passed the mountain of Johansberg, celebrated for its wines.

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While dining at Bingen, twenty miles below Mentz, the grand duke Nicholas of Russia passed through, on his way from the baths of Emms, to visit the duke of Nassau, whose castle is situated on the right banks of the Rhine, about four miles below Mentz.

Our dinner party consisted of a motley group of various nations, some of the individuals composing which, were pleasant, agreeable people. Amongst them were, what is in some measure unusual, two or three loquacious Germans; and also a humorous old Dutchman, from whom my friend elicited much information respecting the best route to Amsterdam. We felt inclined to have prosecuted our journey into Holland with this latter person, in order to have availed ourselves of his local information; but it is questionable whether a plan of this kind generally answers, for, on the continent, one does not always find liberality enough in fellow-travellers to put one on his guard against the impositions of their countrymen. We had a strong illustration of this about the present time. I have frequently mentioned a French gentleman with whom we had been travelling from Berne, and to whose kind attentions and gentlemanly conduct, we felt ourselves on a variety of occasions, highly indebted: one day, another Frenchman who had also been[326] travelling with us, proposed to him to direct the landlord of the inn where we dined, to charge C⸺ and myself double the established price, so as to let them off without payment. Our friend most indignantly rejected the proposal, asserting that he was a disgrace to his country, and that it was the conduct of such scoundrels, which led to the traduction of its character.

I must name one other individual of our dinner party at Bingen,—a watchmaker, with a pack-full of watches, some of which he exhibited to us; his prices were from six francs, to twice as many Louis, each; several of our companions purchased of him at the former rate. How he could afford to sell upon such terms, it is not easy to account for, without supposing that he must have stolen his goods. He was a civil middle-aged man, and had travelled over a great part of Europe, and, in particular, followed the French army into Russia, where he sold great numbers of his watches to the soldiers in exchange, I suppose, for their plunder. After dinner we recommenced our journey, and at half past eight arrived at Coblentz.

We were recommended by some of our fellow-passengers to fix ourselves at the Pomme d’Or at this place, which proved, however, to be only a second rate inn; and we afterwards learnt that the hotel of the Three Swiss is the preferable one for travellers proceeding by the Coche d’Eau.

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On the following morning, we made a party with two young Germans to visit the baths of Emms, distant about three leagues on the other side of the Rhine; for this purpose we engaged a coach, to convey us over one of the worst roads we had yet met with.

The bathing establishment at this place is perhaps the most commodious in the world. The main building contains two hundred and twenty lodging-rooms, at different rates; the prices of each being marked on the doors; it comprises, besides, several beautiful saloons for tables d’hôte, &c. We found a party of no less than three hundred dining in one of them, as well as smaller parties in other rooms. The ground floor is laid out in elegant shops and baths. In a newly attached part, there is a most noble coffee-room, with billiard and faro rooms.

The scenery around this spot is extremely beautiful, and bounded by mountains rising majestically into the clouds, clothed to their very summits with rich vineyards. These baths are the property of the duke of Nassau, whose capital is about a league distant, and half a mile from the village of Emms, through which my friend and myself passed on our return in the evening, having left our German companions behind us.

On the 11th of August, at six o’clock in the morning, we left Coblentz in the Coche d’Eau. Amongst the companions who most interested us, was a young Polish gentleman, undoubtedly a man of family, and who had been studying at one of the universities on the Rhine; we were much pleased with his merry convivial manners, and apparent liberality of sentiment; he seemed desirous of gaining general information, and was probably travelling with that intention, as he was well acquainted with the French and German languages, and spoke of visiting Italy and other parts of the continent within no distant period.

At eleven o’clock we rested an hour for dinner, and at three landed for a short time at Born, at which place we received on board, for the diversion of the party, a fiddler, who, for at least three hours, tortured our ears with a variety of the most discordant strains, both vocal and instrumental, that can be imagined. A French gentleman and lady also entered our vessel at this place, and accompanied us for a few miles, when they disembarked[329] at an interesting part of the river; they were making a journey along the Rhine upon this principle, and an excellent mode to us of enjoying its beauties. After leaving Born, we passed a large and beautiful island, with a convent upon it. About four o’clock, the country suddenly changed from a mountainous into a rich champaign appearance. At eight in the evening we reached Cologne, and placed ourselves at the Hotel de Mayence. We here, in the newspapers, met with a first account of the Queen’s illness, and which was accompanied by a report of her death.

We had no time to visit the churches and other interesting objects at Cologne; amongst which, one of the most celebrated, is the house where Rubens was born. Nor could we examine the flying, or rather floating bridge over the Rhine, formed by two immense barges fastened together, and which are decked, and railed round to prevent accidents, and said to be sufficiently capacious to receive at least one thousand persons, besides carriages, &c. at one time; it is secured from passing down the stream, by an anchor in the middle of the river; on the tinkling of a bell, the whole is set at liberty, when the force of the current, assisted by the rudder, carries it to the other side; this is repeated every quarter of an hour.

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Cologne is a dull old town, containing many narrow ill-paved streets. Every one is acquainted with its celebrity for the manufacture of the favourite perfumed spirit, the eau de Cologne. Originally there was only a single manufactory of this article, but the demand has now so greatly increased, that ten different establishments are engaged in it. We were informed that it sells here for eight francs the case, containing six bottles. We were anxious to have purchased a few for the benefit of our fair friends, but the risk of seizure deterred us from gratifying our wishes.

At this place our agreeable French companion, who had accompanied us from Berne, took leave of us; his name was M. Gerard Mignon, a Champagne wine-merchant of Rheims, and had been a captain in the French army; he intended passing by Aix la Chapelle to Brussels, at which latter place I promised myself the pleasure of again meeting with him.

We had proposed following the course of the Rhine as far as we could towards Amsterdam, to which place I had agreed to accompany my friend on his way to Russia; but on inquiry we found there was no regular water conveyance, and therefore determined to avail ourselves of a return Berlin to Cleves, for which we were to pay sixteen francs each; and as the journey would[331] occupy two days, this was perhaps reasonable enough for this country.

At nine o’clock on Sunday morning we set out from Cologne, and travelled throughout the day over heavy sandy roads; on this account our driver shewed great consideration for his horses, as he stayed to refresh them every two hours with bread and water; with this view he had provided a number of loaves before setting out, and which at first we supposed were intended for his own use. We dined at a town named Nais, and halted for the night at Crevelt, a small but well built town, celebrated for its manufactory of silks and velvets.

Our apartments at this place were so grand, that we thought proper to inquire the price of them, which greatly hurt the landlord’s feelings, and led him into a long explanation of his honourable principles; he said he had fixed prices; and I must admit, that on leaving, we had no cause to think them unreasonable. We had, however, an additional charge made upon us, in consequence of declining to take supper. The German innkeepers are sure to be offended if you inquire their charges. It was Sunday evening, and our host politely invited us to accompany him to their weekly ball, but we preferred going to bed.

On Monday morning, after an early breakfast, we recommenced our journey; and again resting[332] our horses every two hours, arrived about twelve o’clock at a small village, where we dined. In the afternoon, we fell in with a return vehicle, a kind of cabriolet with two horses, going to Nimeguen, which kept company with us till four o’clock; when our driver succeeded in persuading us, that by taking this opportunity we should reach Nimeguen to-night; as the driver would turn off, leaving Cleves on the left, and make a nearer cut by a league; whereas, otherwise we should not be able to advance farther than the latter place this evening, and unable to proceed by diligence, before noon next day. Anxiety to get forward, induced us to avail ourselves of this push; but I think we never, in our whole lives, travelled in so uneasy a vehicle, or over more wretched roads; in addition, it began to rain very fast, and the curtains of our carriage were unable to protect us. After passing through a wood, about seven o’clock, we reached a decent kind of town, where our driver fed his horses well; first with bread, and afterwards with chopped hay and corn, placed before them in the street in a portable manger. After this we proceeded on to Nimeguen, through an exceedingly heavy sandy road. A short time before we reached this place, we left the Prussian and entered the Dutch territories, without the least interruption from the custom-house[333] officers: instead of the usual bureau, we only found an inn for entertainment; nor were we detained in the least on this account, on entering Nimeguen, although it is a strongly fortified and frontier town. We drove to an inn, called the Post Waggon, which, however, we found so full, that we were obliged to have beds made up in our sitting-room; the civility with which we were here treated, induced us to give this arrangement the preference to seeking out another inn. Before retiring to bed, we secured our places for Utrecht in the diligence, or, as it is here called, the Post Waggon, and which was to depart at half after six in the morning.

On Tuesday, soon after leaving Nimeguen, we crossed the Waal (a branch of the Rhine) on a flying bridge, which had two or three small cabins built upon it, and masts with flags flying. We here completed our complement of passengers, and had much disputation respecting places, which a man belonging to the coach settled in a very rough authoritative manner. We were tolerably fortunate in our situation, for the carriage was a clumsy inconvenient machine, with a front, back, and middle seat, intended for nine passengers, and the roof timbers without lining.

This unfortunate outset was, however, succeeded by an unexpected interesting conversation:[334] amongst other agreeable companions, we found a professor of the university of Leyden, who advocated with great warmth the literary character of his country; and asserted, in particular, that it had produced a number of poetical works of higher merit than the world were disposed to admit of; that even his own countrymen had not duly appreciated them; but that he trusted the efforts, which were then making at Leyden, to collect and make them public, would tend to remove this stigma. As none of us were acquainted with the authors he enumerated, he remained, of course, undisputed master of the field.

The professor’s wife, and their son, were also of the party; the latter was a handsome lad of fifteen, who sat in the cabriolet, and occupied himself in smoking a pipe nearly half as long as himself. We expressed our surprise at his being allowed to indulge himself in this manner, but his mother stated that he had entered the college, and therefore was of the age when it was customary to commence inhaling the fumes of this deleterious herb.

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But the ladies of Holland are too much used to this custom, to find it disagreeable; not only habit, but an opinion of its utility, tends to reconcile them to it. If it possesses any quality in destroying contagion, I am disposed to imagine that this must depend upon the stronger poison subduing the weaker, like Aaron’s serpent swallowing up the rest.

We had also, in our party, a mild, pleasant, and well-informed Swiss clergyman, the pastor of a protestant church at Hamburgh.

After dining hastily at a village on the road, we continued our journey through a country, which my friend C⸺ described as beautiful, and possessing a novel character; we passed Dry Bergen, or three hills, a place much frequented in summer by the richer inhabitants of Amsterdam and Utrecht; and afterwards a beautiful village, where there is a magnificent chateau inhabited by Moravian missionaries; although the roads were excellent, in consequence of frequently baiting our horses, we did not reach Utrecht before half after four o’clock; having occupied ten hours in accomplishing a journey of only forty-two miles.

On arriving at Utrecht, we were prevented from proceeding to Amsterdam by boat, the same evening, as we had intended, in consequence of heavy rains; and, by the recommendation of one of our passengers, took up our quarters at an inferior inn, near which the diligence stopped. The fire-pan, tobacco, and other accompaniments for smoking, were very shortly placed before us for our entertainment, and the good people seemed much astonished that we should prefer the more simple enjoyment of tea.

This city is celebrated for having been the first to shake off the galling yoke of Spain in the year 1579. It was here that the seven provinces formed their alliance, under the counsels of William, prince of Orange, in a conference known as the treaty of Utrecht.

In the morning, we prepared early to set off by the barge or treckschuyt for Amsterdam; but, before leaving, we were destined to meet with a specimen of Dutch manners. The master of the inn made a most exorbitant charge, and, when[337] my friend questioned it, he repeated the sum in a rough manner, without deigning to give any other answer, at the same time, approaching with a menacing aspect; my friend took him by the shoulder and pushed him off; this lowered his tone, but he was aware that we had no time to contest it, as we must either set off instantly to gain the barge, or lose our passage, and therefore obstinately adhered to his original demand, and upon the principle of choosing the least of two evils, we thought prudent to comply with it.

After traversing a great part of the city, we fortunately reached the barge just as it was on the point of starting. There were three cabins, of different prices, and we had the honour of being placed in the best or aftermost, for our conveyance in which, and luggage, we were charged thirty-one stivers each, equal to about half-a-crown; this, for a journey of twenty miles, we could not complain of. The scenery along this canal, my friend stated to be beautiful in the extreme; in short, it is regarded as the most interesting and characteristic picture that this country displays, and realizes the description of our amiable poet, Goldsmith.

[338]

We heard them very merry in the fore cabin, but had the one we occupied to ourselves until about noon, when two elderly Dutch ladies, who were conversant in French, joined us, and proved agreeable companions, although they were negative characters.

We rested for a short time at a house of entertainment on the banks of the canal, where we were refreshed with buttered rolls, which had slices of cheese laid between the divided halves. At half after two, we arrived at Amsterdam, and took up our residence at the Wapen van Amsterdam, instead of the City of Hamburg Hotel, to which we had been recommended, a mistake we were not aware of until some hours afterwards; however, it was one of the best inns in the place, so that we had no reason to feel disappointed. At the table d’hôte, charged thirty stivers per head, we met with a countryman of ours, Mr. W., with his wife and daughter; and after dinner, were conducted by him to a coffee-house, where, from the English papers, we became acquainted with the particulars of her late majesty’s death.

On the following day, August the 16th, notwithstanding it was disposed to be rainy, we accompanied Mr., Mrs., and Miss W⸺ to Broeck, and Saardam. After passing in a ferry-boat to Brocksluyh, we engaged a tilted carriage, capable[339] of containing nine persons, constructed like a caravan, the sides with neat open work, and canvas curtains to keep out the weather.

We arrived at Broeck for breakfast, and the day now proving fine, our party were delighted with the novel and extraordinary appearance, and cleanliness of this little paradise. In each house, there is one particular door which is always kept closed, except on the occasion of a wedding or funeral. The gardens are the very picture of elegant neatness; in some of them the shrubs are arranged and cut into the shapes of tables and chairs, or other fanciful forms; the ground is laid out in pleasing walks and parterres, and the eye enchanted with the most beautiful variety of flowers.

We now proceeded to Saardam, where the first circumstance which attracted our notice, was a new married couple, returning from church to take coffee, previous to enjoying the wedding dinner; on this occasion, we were informed that the bride’s fortune was a number of windmills, an article that Amsterdam and its neighbourhood abounds with. Our leading object, however, was to visit the house once occupied by Peter the Great, consisting of two small rooms with an enclosed recess for a bed; the door of which we opened, while some of us stepped within the[340] frame on which the bed had rested. A board was suspended from the ceiling, with an inscription in the Dutch and Russian languages, of which, the following is a translation.

“Nothing is too little for a great man.”

The Emperor Alexander visited this spot in the year 1813, and left two Latin inscriptions on marble, commemorative of the event.

After this, we walked about the village, visited the church, and returned to Amsterdam for a late dinner, highly gratified with our day’s excursion.

We devoted the greater part of the next day to examining the city of Amsterdam, which is so intersected with streets, canals, and bridges, bearing a strong similarity to each other, that it is not an easy matter to gain an accurate knowledge of it. It takes its name from the river Amstel, and Dam, signifying a mound, raised to prevent this river from overflowing the surrounding country. The city is principally built upon piles, driven into the morass to form a solid foundation, and of which it is said, that no less than thirteen thousand are fixed under the Stadt-house alone. We visited the Exchange, one of the finest buildings of the kind in Europe. After this, we entered a Jew’s synagogue, the noisy and discordant devotion of which, soon tired us, so that we were glad to take our departure, particularly as[341] we had no expectation of being permitted to bid for the key of the sanctum sanctorum. We regretted this day, parting from our new and agreeable acquaintance, Mr. W⸺ and his family, who left us for Utrecht.

On the following morning, one of the partners of the bank of Messrs. Melvil and Co. with whom I had done business the day before, called to rectify some trifling error in the discounts, and understanding that I was proceeding alone, kindly gave me a letter of introduction to a friend at the Hague.

The time was now approaching, when my friend C⸺ felt compelled to separate from me; he had from day to day deferred his departure for St. Petersburg, in hopes of effecting a more agreeable arrangement for his journey, than had previously offered itself; for he would have been obliged to have pursued his journey partly by canal, and partly by land, and the latter night and day, for nearly a week unremittingly, through a wild country, and along dreadful roads. He had, however, some prospect, as far as Hamburg, of the company of the Swiss clergyman, who travelled with us from Nimeguen to Utrecht, but here he was disappointed, for this gentleman was uncertain when he could depart, and on account of the advanced state of the summer, and[342] possibility of the winter setting in early, my friend thought it imprudent to delay any longer; he therefore concluded upon setting out in the evening of Sunday the 19th, by a vessel which crosses the Zuyder sea to Lemner, from whence he was to proceed by diligence or canal to Groningen, where he would find a conveyance to Bremen and Hamburg.

On Sunday morning, we visited the new church, the organ of which is said to be the largest in Europe, and to exceed the celebrated one at Haarlem. After this, we went to the Stadt-house, one of the most magnificent buildings in Europe; the foundation-stone of which, was laid in the year 1648; it is built of freestone, two hundred and eighty-eight feet in length, two hundred and thirty-five broad, and one hundred and sixteen in height, to the top of the roof. The grand saloon is one hundred and twenty feet long, and one hundred high. We ascended the tower, the view from whence my friend C⸺ described to be most extensive, and extremely beautiful, commanding the whole of the town and harbour, and a considerable surface both of land and water.

We were anxious to have visited the dock-yard, and a variety of other places in this interesting city, but it became necessary that we should prepare for our respective departures, as I had determined[343] to set off to Haarlem, on my way to Brussels, at five in the evening; and much of our time was frittered away in the unavoidable arrangements for conveyances, &c. I was induced, in preference to taking the diligence for Rotterdam, to pass by the barge through the Hague, as this would afford me the better opportunity of gaining an acquaintance with the country and its inhabitants.

I shall not attempt to enter into any particular description of the city of Amsterdam, but merely observe, that I was forcibly impressed with an idea of its similarity to Venice; both are situated on marshy grounds, in the immediate vicinity of the sea, and intersected by canals, which divide them into innumerable small islands; but the farther parallel is certainly in favour of the latter; for although Pope tells us, that

yet I think the natural salubrity of its climate, as well as the general superiority of its buildings, and more extensive display of specimens of the fine arts, would prove greater attractions in the eyes of the stranger. With respect to the point of salubrity, the canals of Venice are more uniformly covered with water than those of Amsterdam, which offer a surface of mud, and hence fewer noxious exhalations are here generated; not that I am ignorant[344] that Venice is far from being a healthy summer residence, in consequence of injurious miasmata, raised from its very foundations, by the intensity of the solar ray.

The atmosphere of Amsterdam is greatly impregnated with moisture, and the place necessarily very damp, which must favour the production and aggravation of rheumatic disease; the liability to which, is perhaps the best excuse that can be made for the general use of tobacco by its inhabitants.

It is true, that the above custom also suits the calculating notions of the Dutch. I am on this point forcibly reminded of the observation of a solitary and smoking Dutchman, when Dr. Moore had expressed, through the medium of an interpreter, his regret at being unable to converse with him, in consequence of his ignorance of the Dutch language; and which was to this effect: “They ought to console themselves for the accident of not understanding each other; for as they had no connexions, or dealings in trade together, their conversing could not possibly answer any useful purpose.”

The moment now arrived, when I was to be separated from my very kind friend, with whom I had, on the present tour, travelled more than fourteen hundred miles; we cheered the painful[345] moments of parting, by the anticipations of soon meeting again. We fortunately had little time to spend in useless regrets, for the boat, when we reached the canal, was on the point of setting off, and they make it a rule to wait for no one; even an English gentleman, who was in expectation of the momentary arrival of two friends to accompany him, was obliged to stay behind, because they would not tarry an instant after the signal bell had rung. This was a source of regret to my friend, as he had taken much pains to interest him in my favour, and, indeed, I promised myself some pleasure from travelling in his company. Not that my heart was sufficiently frenchified, to be capable of suddenly expanding to the warmth of a new friendship; no! I preferred indulging in the delightful emotions inspired in it, by the recollections of my late amiable companion; of whose uniform kindness, and anxious concern for me, I shall never—never cease to be most sensible.

I was now once more left to my own resources, and shortly ascertained, that there were two young Dutchmen on board who were acquainted with English. Their father, I afterward found, was a merchant, retired from business in order to secure, under the present depressed state of trade, the fruits of his former industry. The sons had learnt English, as a necessary accomplishment for the duties of their father’s office, the concerns of which lay chiefly in England.

Haarlem is distant seven miles from Amsterdam, and the journey occupies nearly three hours; about midway we arrived at a village, where we had to change both the canal and barge, walking through the town, our luggage being conveyed by barrowmen. On our arrival at Haarlem, the captain, after arranging with his other passengers, accompanied me to the Lion d’Or, to which I had been recommended. Before entering the inn, I was not a little surprised by the landlord’s daughter inquiring from me in English, where[347] my friend was. I replied that I was alone; and she asked whether I had not had a friend with me; on satisfying her, and saying that he was gone to Hamburg, she offered to take care of me, and in case I was proceeding to the Hague and Rotterdam, to give me letters to houses where I should receive every attention. Of course I endeavoured to learn how she had acquired any knowledge of me, which she explained by stating, that her father had been the day before, at our inn at Amsterdam, and had become acquainted with my intention of visiting Haarlem, and that they looked out for me as an uncommon traveller.

While I was taking refreshment, the gentlemen with a lady, who had been disappointed in their passage by our barge, arrived, and as they were proceeding to Leyden on the following morning, I determined to avail myself of their invitation to accompany them.

We arose early in the morning to walk over the town, which is of great antiquity, having been a flourishing place as early as 1155; but the most interesting object, is the statue of Lawrence Coster, once an alderman of this city, and the asserted inventor of the art of printing, and which stands in the grand place. It is true that the honour of the above invention is disputed with[348] Coster and Haarlem, by various other towns of Germany, as Mentz, Strasburg, &c.; but there is strong ground to consider Coster entitled to the priority of claim, as the dates of some of the books of his printing are anterior to those of Faust, or any other of his competitors. Adrianus Junius, who was born at Hoorn, in 1507, tells us, that Coster hit upon this invention as he was walking in a wood near Haarlem, by cutting the bark of beech-trees into letters, and then stamping them upon paper as a seal; and that he afterwards extended and improved his discovery, and set up a printing office in his house, and that Faust, or Fust, who was a servant of his, one day, while the family were at church, stole away his types and other materials, and fled with them to Mentz, where he commenced business as a printer.

The first book which Coster brought out, and his original types, are preserved in the Stadt-house for the inspection of the curious; we had not, however, time to examine them, nor even to hear the celebrated organ of this city, for we did not arrive on the day before until after evening service had concluded; and to hear it at any other time, is a gratification which must be handsomely paid for.

Immediately after breakfast, we set off to take[349] the treckschuyt for Leyden, to which the landlord’s daughter insisted on accompanying me, notwithstanding I was now kindly assisted by my countrymen. I took leave of her, of course, with feelings and expressions of gratitude for her uncommon attention. The barges on these canals are towed by horses, the rope passing from the top of a mast, in order to carry it clear of the ground, and which mast is fixed on a swivel joint to admit of its being lowered at pleasure in passing under bridges. There were in the present boat three cabins, the aftermost, which is considered the best, being occupied by a private party: we were in the middle one, which was very commodious, and had but few companions, and those not very loquacious, for the natives of this country shew little disposition to enter into conversation with strangers. We had a laugh or two at one of our companions, who, finding his seat too hard, requested a cushion, for which accommodation they afterwards made an extra charge; at another time, he got out to walk on the bank, and had much difficulty to keep up with the boat, before an opportunity offered of getting in again. The day was fine, and the country around us said to be highly luxuriant. At twelve o’clock we arrived at Leyden, being a distance of four leagues.

Both this town and Haarlem are famous for the[350] long sieges they supported against the Spaniards, under Frederic, son of the duke of Alva, in the year 1573.

After ordering dinner at the Golden Lion, we sallied forth to examine the town, of which it is impossible I can give any thing like a description, from so slight a perambulation, as it is said to comprise eight gates, twenty-four canals, fifty islands, one hundred and eighty streets, and one hundred and forty-five bridges. It was here that the electric battery, named the Leyden Jar, was first invented, and that the illustrious Boerhaave, filled with an eclat never surpassed, the professorship of medicine in this celebrated university. This great man was born at Voorhoot, a village near this place, in the year 1688, and died in 1738. There is a proverb of his which deserves a marked attention, “The sparks of calumny will presently be extinct of themselves, unless you blow them.”

I should have felt pleasure in staying longer at this place, but that I was desirous of getting to Brussels without delay. I therefore, in company with Mr. T—, one of the English gentlemen, the other staying behind with his lady, set off by the barge to the Hague. In our way, we passed the village of Leysendam, which we walked through to another barge, on the right of which is Catwick,[351] where the last branch of the Rhine, which retains its original name, loses itself in the sands. At eight o’clock in the evening we reached the Hague, after a journey of three hours, and took up our quarters at the hotel of Marshal Turenne.

On the following morning, Tuesday, Aug. 21st, we arose early, and took a walk through the town before breakfast, and which we afterwards extended to Scheveling. The road to this place is excellent, shaded on both sides by trees. The village itself is large and extremely neat, situated near the sea, and much resorted to as a bathing-place during the summer; the sea, however, is not visible from the town, a sand-hill being interposed between these points.

We returned from our walk in sufficient time to set out by the treckschuyt for Rotterdam, which is thirteen miles distant from the Hague. My companion was much pleased with the palaces and walks about this place, which he thought must be a delightful residence.

After travelling about an hour and a quarter, we reached Delft, where we landed, and traversed the city to another barge on the opposite side of it. Delft is a fine clean city, with canals running through the streets, and rows of trees on each side of them. In one of the churches are deposited the remains of William the First of Nassau,[352] prince of Orange, who, at the instigation of Philip the Second, was assassinated at this place. Delft is also famous as the birth-place of Hugo Grotius, the immortal author of a Treatise on the Truth of the Christian Religion, as well as of many other works of high estimation; and every one has heard of its manufactory of earthenware, termed Delft China.

From Delft, we proceeded in a very large and handsome barge to Rotterdam. At four o’clock we passed Schiedam, leaving it a mile on our right, and at five arrived at Rotterdam. It happened to be the day of a fair, and we had to traverse a great part of the city, through the midst of a mass of people, before we reached the bath-house hotel, to which we had been recommended. This house was full of company, but they found us accommodations in a detached building in the garden.

On making inquiries respecting the conveyances to Antwerp, I found there were two every day, one by Breda, the other by Bergen-op-Zoom; I preferred the latter, and secured my place for twenty-five francs.

On entering the common sitting-room of our hotel, I almost fancied myself transported into an English boarding-house, the party present being all countrymen or Americans. We retired[353] early to our bed-room, and had the mortification to find the sheets wringing wet. This is not unfrequently the case in Holland, where the table linen and napkins are very commonly sent in perfectly damp; it is no doubt attributable to the humid state of the atmosphere on the one hand, and the expense of fuel to dry with on the other. We summoned the chamber-maid, waiter, and master of the inn in succession, who all endeavoured to convince us that they were perfectly dry. We had no alternative but to make the best use we could of the warming-pan; and it is fortunate that we sustained no injury.

My stay at Rotterdam was too brief to enable me to say much about the city. It is a place of considerable commercial importance, and, in some respects, has advantages over Amsterdam; as the merchant vessels have only to come fifteen miles up a fine river, and are able to discharge their cargoes at the very doors of the warehouses. I was informed, that it enjoys a more extended trade than either Amsterdam or Antwerp. It is also considered the handsomest city in Holland, and obtains no little renown from having been the birth-place of the celebrated Erasmus, whose statue in bronze, ornaments the city.

On Wednesday, the 22nd of August, I left Rotterdam for Antwerp, at five in the morning.[354] We were conveyed, in a temporary carriage, to the banks of a river, which we crossed to the island of Ysselmond, where the regular diligence was awaiting our arrival. After traversing this island, we embarked on a flying bridge, and were transported across the Maese to the island of Voorn; from the opposite side of which we crossed an arm of the sea, named Holland’s Diep, to Williamstadt, a strong fortified town, built by the unfortunate William before mentioned, as having been assassinated at Delft. This place held out successfully against the French in 1793. After leaving Williamstadt, we crossed a fourth, and then a fifth river, when we arrived at Steenbergen; a small, but strongly fortified town, surrounded by double walls and ditches, and distant seven miles from Bergen-op-Zoom. We reached the latter place at two o’clock for dinner. This town is only noted for its strong fortifications, being defended by double walls, with immense ditches, and confirmed by extensive outworks. I could not avoid a melancholy retrospection of the unfortunate attack made upon this place, by my brave countrymen in the late war. We recommenced our journey at three o’clock, and soon afterwards entered the Netherlands, when the road became so sandy and heavy, that we could not proceed at a greater rate than a foot’s pace;[355] when, however, we arrived within three miles of Antwerp, it changed into a pavê, which continued until we reached that town at half after eight in the evening; when I accompanied an English gentleman, Mr. S⸺, who had travelled with us all day, to the Hotel d’Angleterre.

As I only rested thirty-six hours in this fine and extensive city, it would be presumptuous to attempt a description of it. The beauty of the town, cathedral, and various churches, and the richness of its cabinets of paintings, and the fine arts, are well known. An academy of painting has lately been formed, or rather re-established here, under the title of Rueben’s school.

At the table d’hôte, which was crowded with people of various nations, I was fortunately placed near one of my countrymen, who, hearing that I had lately arrived from Italy, entered into conversation with me respecting some friends, and in particular a cousin of his, whom I had known at Naples; he afterwards contributed to make the remainder of the day pass away pleasantly.

He informed me, that Antwerp was not unlikely to regain a considerable degree of its former commercial importance. It was already vying with Rotterdam, and was expected to surpass it as a trading town, in consequence of a law having[356] passed to lower the transit duties, and which was to take effect in January 1822.

Before retiring early to-bed, I secured my place in the diligence to Brussels, for the following morning; at which place I proposed to rest for some time, after so long a series of travelling; during which, in the course of three months, I had never slept more than four nights in the same bed; and farther, I was induced to select this place, for my repose, as I hoped to meet with some old friends there.

We commenced our journey at seven o’clock; about ten we stopped to change horses at Mechlin, the city so celebrated for its manufacture of fine lace of that name. The cathedral here is said to be a very grand structure and well worth seeing. About noon, we arrived at Brussels, after a journey of twenty-five miles from Antwerp.

On the recommendation of M. G. Mignon, the French gentleman with whom I had travelled from Berne to Cologne, and who had arrived in Brussels the day before myself, I fixed my residence at the Hotel de la Paix, Rue Violet.

The great anxiety of various countries to become the masters of this city, may alone be regarded as a strong indication of its importance. It is extensive, handsomely built in an eligible situation, and its inhabitants regarded as a polished people; their politeness towards the English visitors, has, however, been latterly no little tempered by political or commercial jealousy, arising from our being able to furnish better and cheaper commodities than they can manufacture; while, at the same time, they have been subjected to heavy imposts, and deprived of the advantage of exchanging their productions for French wines and goods. They do not hesitate to express their preference of the French government, under which they had been so long subjected, and even[358] the wish to return to it; indeed their habits and characters assimilate more with the French than the Dutch, with whom they are now connected.

The manufactories of carpets, lace, &c. carried on at this place, are well known; few of the former are, however, actually the productions of this city, but made in a number of the towns around, particularly Tournay; they are conveyed, however, into the merchants’ stores at this place, and then come out as real Brussels carpets.

Brussels appears to have had a particular partiality for the number seven; hence there were formerly seven public fountains; seven principal streets that centre in the great market-place; seven parish churches; seven principal noble families; and seven gates of Doric architecture.

There is a canal encircling the town, and forming it into a kind of island, planted with trees, and which runs to Willibrook, a village on the Scheldt, at the distance of fifteen miles; along the banks of this canal lies an excellent road, shaded with four rows of trees on each side, upon which the ladies of Brussels take the air in their carriages. The treckschuyts pass by this canal from Brussels to Antwerp, twice every day.

The great market-place is one of the most beautiful squares in Europe. One side is occupied by the Stadt-house. The states of Brabant used formerly[359] to meet in a palace in this square, which was most richly adorned. In three large rooms the resignation of his empire, by Charles the Fifth, is wrought in tapestry. The other rooms, which belonged to this august assembly, were embellished with fine original paintings. In this square are also situated the halls of the various trading companies of Brussels, the fronts of which are adorned with exquisite sculpture and workmanship.

The herb-market is also a fine square, as well as the horse-market or sablon; both of which are environed by some excellent buildings. The Place Royal, situated near the palace and park, is an airy situation, and contains the two principal hotels, the Bellevue, and the Hotel de Flandres. The museum, and the botanic garden are also situated by this square; in the former is deposited the cradle of Charles the Fifth, and the chair in which

This museum contains also a number of interesting objects of nature and art; amongst the former a good collection of minerals, and amongst the latter, an extensive one of paintings; and which comprises a few valuable originals.

[360]

In company with a friend, Mr. M’M⸺, to whom my warmest acknowledgments are due for his unceasing attentions in conducting me to, and explaining its various parts, I made the complete tour of this city along the ramparts, commencing at the gate of Namur. These ramparts appeared in a bad state, not calculated for a fashionable promenade; we passed an old fort with a very few guns upon it, and these certainly not in fighting order. We did not complete the tour on the first day, but left off at what was lately named Port Napoleon, but now Port Guillaume; this is a handsome modern structure.

On the following day we completed our tour, finishing at Port Namur; in the course of this walk we passed a number of persons employed in making a boulevard, and building a wall from a depth of six feet to the surface to support it.

One afternoon we went to examine the environs around the royal palace of Lacken, and might without much difficulty have been admitted into the palace itself, had it not been too late in the afternoon; we were informed, however, that it offered nothing particularly magnificent or interesting; with its grounds it is enclosed within a wooden fence, which altogether does not comprise an area of two miles in circumference,[361] certainly not an extensive domain for a royal residence, in the neighbourhood of so fine a city.

The churches at Brussels are very fine, particularly that of St. Gudulo, which is a magnificent building with two steeples. There are two places of worship, where the English service is performed in an impressive manner, by their respective preachers; the one the church of St. Augustine, for morning, the other a chapel in the Place Royal, for evening service.

Brussels is almost wholly supplied with firing, from the forest of Soignè, which covers a tract of sixteen or seventeen thousand acres of land, one sixtieth part of which is allowed to be cut down annually, and thus a constant supply ensured.

Lodgings and all kinds of provision are very reasonable, but French wines now comparatively dear. We one day went to a coach-maker’s, where we saw vehicles of every description, which my friend on examining into, declared were as well got up as they generally are in England, and at about two-thirds of the customary English prices. We visited also the lace manufactories, where my companion made some purchases, but I did not choose to run the risk of being laughed at, for taking back the produce of my own country,[362] which, I am assured, is now frequently put off as the manufacture of Flanders.

One evening I went to the larger theatre, with Mr. S⸺, for the express purpose of hearing the celebrated Mademoiselle Mars, in the character of the Femme Colère in the play of that name. I thought the piece very inferior, and to comprise common place incidents, and trifling dialogues. The plot is founded upon the stratagem of a peaceable kind of husband, to quell the turbulent temper of his wife, and who succeeds in convincing her of her folly, by shewing the impropriety of such conduct in himself; for this purpose, on one occasion, when she has been enraged at her waiting-maid, he throws himself into a still greater passion; upsets the tables, chairs, and every thing that comes in his way; she hears, sees, and is astonished at his violence, becoming proportionately tame, as his rage increases, and at length convinced of her error, determines to reform.

The stage of this theatre I thought not sufficiently advanced towards the audience, the greater part of the sound appearing to be retained upon it.

One day, amongst other amusements in the suburbs, I was present at that of shooting the popinjay, which consists in placing the figure of a bird at the top of a long pole, and shooting at it[363] with bows and arrows; the person who succeeds in displacing the mark, is remunerated with a gold or silver watch, or whatever prize may be contended for; it did not appear, however, an easy matter to effect this, as it was four o’clock when we were there, and they had been engaged the whole day, without being able to remove the popinjay.

During my stay at Brussels, I discovered very few symptoms of gaiety, although the royal family were at the time resident. The English families were many of them gone to different bathing places. I had, however, the gratification of finding there my friend, Admiral D⸺, whose great condescension and hospitality, demand my warmest acknowledgments, and have left an indelible impression of gratitude and esteem; nor can I forget the kind attentions of his friend Mr. P. H⸺.

On the 10th of September, I received a letter from my friend C⸺, dated at the port of Lubec, describing his progress towards St. Petersburg, and which gave me unfeigned pleasure.

Being desirous of reaching England, before the equinoctial gales might come on, on the 12th of September I took my place for Ghent, in one of the many coaches that go daily to that city; after an early dinner, I left Brussels at half past two o’clock, occupying the same seat with an English[364] gentleman and his dog; the middle seat was taken up by a Dutch captain, from Batavia, with a parrot and dog; while a pair of monkies belonging to him, enjoyed the fresh air on the roof, and amused the people as they passed along. We arrived at the fine city of Ghent about half past eight o’clock, and, at the recommendation of Admiral D⸺, I went to the Hotel de Vienne, in the merché au blê, where, in consequence of using his name, I was treated with particular attention, and charged reasonably for very superior accommodations.

This city derives no little of its celebrity from having been the birth-place of Charles the Fifth, as well as our John of Gaunt, duke of Lancaster, and son of Edward the Third.

We were now in what was formerly called Flanders, the Austrians possessing the larger part with this city for their capital; the French, the south-west, comprising Lisle and Dunkirk; and the Dutch, the north-east, with the strong fortress of Sluys.

On the following morning we breakfasted at seven o’clock, and, after taking a short walk into the town, set off for the barge to Bruges, which lay at a considerable distance from the hotel, and starts at nine o’clock in the morning. The day was unfavourable; it blew hard, and we had frequent[365] showers of rain; however, we were better situated for these gales than had we been in the packet midway between Ostend and Margate. Between twelve and one o’clock, a better dinner was placed before us, than I had met with at any table d’hôte in France, Germany, or the Low Countries, and the wine was universally praised. I certainly had as good a pint of Burgundy as I had met with on the continent, for which, with my dinner, and the fare for thirty miles’ journey, including the conveyance of baggage, I was only charged seven francs and a half. Our dinner concluded with a magnificent dessert; we had more baskets of peaches than we could make use of, grapes (the first I had met with this season), and abundance of the more common fruits. We arrived at Bruges at half-past three, and, without tarrying, immediately traversed the city to the barge for Ostend, on a canal at the opposite side of it. All I know of this place is, that we walked through the town for nearly two miles before we reached the boat.

Our barge from Bruges, as well as our party, was much smaller than the one we had travelled with from Ghent; soon after seven o’clock we arrived at Sas van Ghent, a small village, about a mile from Ostend, where we rested a few minutes, after which we proceeded into the town, when[366] about eight o’clock I reached the Wellington hotel, an inn conveniently situated for the custom-house, and the packets sailing to and from England, and which has been established by an Englishman, lately the head waiter from Nicholson’s hotel.

On our arrival at Ostend we found two packets intending to sail for England, a private one for Margate and London, on the following day, and a government one for Dover on the succeeding day to that; those to whom time is of importance, however, unless a vessel is on the point of sailing from hence, and the wind favourable, will do well to take the barge to Dunkirk, and travel from that place to Calais by the diligence.

On the Friday the wind was unfavourable, and we had nothing to do but amuse ourselves as we pleased; in the morning we walked about the town, and in the evening visited again the village of Sas van Ghent, with the object of examining Paren’s museum, which, as the sole collection of a humble individual, the proprietor of a small inn at this place, is by no means contemptible. He had great variety of land and sea animals, several of the former coming under the head of lusus naturæ. No remuneration is expected for seeing his curiosities; but we could not do less than take refreshment at his house of business; and I presented him with a small piece of Mosaic work[367] which I had brought from Rome, with which he appeared highly pleased, never having seen any before. On returning to our hotel we found the captain intending to sail at midnight, and therefore we did not go to-bed until we ascertained that he had abandoned this intention.

On Saturday the morning was delightful, and the wind favourable; at one o’clock, a.m. we took leave of the town and harbour of Ostend, in the Fox packet, commanded by Captain Fox, with whom I engaged to be landed at Margate. The Dover packet immediately followed, but soon steered a more westerly course. The wind, at first fresh, gradually decreased until midnight, when it became calm, and the weather foggy. At day-break a slight breeze sprung up; at eleven o’clock the fog cleared off; we found ourselves close under the North Foreland; and at twelve myself and a few other passengers were put on board a lugger, which soon landed us upon the pier of Margate.

The indescribable delight with which I hailed my native land, after so long an absence, was not a little enhanced by the general improvement my health had experienced; the restoration of which, had formed one of my leading motives for undertaking the journey.

On a retrospective view of the various incidents[368] and circumstances to which I had been exposed, I found no reason to think that my tour had been defective in interest, or that I had returned without commensurate advantages. Amongst other results, I felt enabled to contrast the advantages of our happy isle, with the less substantial comforts, and more specious characters, of its continential neighbours, and to appreciate its superiority; an inference, which, should it be deemed erroneous or unphilosophical, I am proud to attribute to that spirit of patriotism, which ought to pervade every human bosom, and like the magnetic influence, incline its affections to their native pole.

FINIS.

Printed by W. Woodcock, St. Helena Place, Spa Fields.