Part 12

In the evening, after reading to Sir Humphry, I went for an hour to the theatre, where I found a juggler amusing a numerous and delighted assembly with his tricks.

_4th._ This was a very rainy day, and Sir Humphry determined to remain at Sienna, to rest himself from the fatigue of the journey, which he has, however, borne much better than could have been expected. In the morning I went again to the cathedral, to see the paintings of Raphael. They are painted on the walls of the sacristy, and represent scenes from the life of Clement II. It is said they were only designed by Raphael when he was very young, and afterwards coloured by another master; good judges, however, can alone decide upon this point. In the same room are some beautifully illuminated old missals, and a fine marble monument by Ricchi, to the memory of the celebrated anatomist Mascagni, who was a native of Sienna. It represents a weeping female in a sitting posture, holding a scroll in her hand, on which is an inscription in letters of gold, and around her lie different anatomical instruments and books. In the middle of the room, on a lofty pedestal, is an antique group in marble, representing the three Graces. They were found in repairing the foundations of the church, and, though much mutilated, are beautifully executed, and may probably have given Canova the idea of his Graces, as the sacristan told me he had repeatedly visited them, and spent much time in the study of them. The cathedral also contains many fine pictures of very ancient date, one as early as the year 1280. The pulpit of African marble is very remarkable for the beauty of its sculpture, and the inlaid and carved pavement before the altar is also very curious, but its chief boast is the possession of one of the arms of John the Baptist; it however has lost its little finger, which a bishop of Florence is said to have bitten off through envy, while _devoutly_ kissing the relic. St. John's head is said to be at Genoa, and I suppose his other limbs are to be found in some part of Italy.

_5th._ It rained heavily this morning, but cleared up before we left Sienna. The country at first is rather barren and hilly, but improves the nearer we approach to Florence. Tavernelle, where we stopped to dine and bait the horses, is a small and insignificant village; the country beyond it becomes very pretty; the road is bordered with neat villages and villas, from the gardens of which immense clusters of roses hang over the walls, and the distant hills are covered with fine wood, and with the beautiful fan pine. We saw Florence in the valley of the Arno long before we reached it; in itself smaller than I expected it, but surrounded on all sides by innumerable villas and hamlets, peeping through the fine woods, or standing in the midst of beautifully cultivated fields. We entered the city by the Porta Romana, a plain old brick gateway, and drove to the Hôtel de l'Europe, where we were splendidly and comfortably lodged.

_6th-9th._ We remained these days at Florence, that Sir Humphry might a little recruit his strength; and during this time, at intervals when he did not want me to read to him, I saw as much as I could of the curiosities of this magnificent capital. The celebrated gallery, which is perhaps its greatest attraction, I was only able just to look at, having but two hours to devote to it. The anatomical cabinet of preparations in wax is undoubtedly the finest thing of its kind existing, and shows what effects patience and perseverance can produce, being chiefly the work of one person. Many rooms are filled with glass cases, containing the most beautiful and exact representations of the structure of the human body in all its parts, moulded in wax. The finest and most intricate parts of the human frame are delineated and traced with a distinctness and exactitude hardly to be conceived, and the slightest ramifications of the nerves and vessels have been followed with a clearness and accuracy rarely seen in the most exact preparations of the best cabinets of anatomy. The collection is not confined only to the anatomy of the human body, but contains also numerous specimens of comparative anatomy, amongst which is a most beautiful one of a fish, with all its internal organs. In the museum annexed to the anatomical cabinet are also three representations of the plague at Florence, describing this terrific scourge with a horrible and disgusting accuracy. This, and all other collections, are open on certain days, and at fixed hours, to the public, and any one is allowed to enter, and without paying.

The cathedral is a fine building, in the same style of architecture as that at Sienna, and, like it, is built of black and white marble. The celebrated _Campanella_, or belfry, is a lofty square tower, detached from the church, and built in a fine and light style; when I was there it was closed, and I had not time to repeat my visit, so that I did not see the interior. One evening I went to the Pergola, a very fine and large theatre: it is extremely simple and elegant, the ground-colour being shining white, relieved by light gilt ornaments, and the opera and ballet were in a style of corresponding elegance. I went once to see the house of Dante, now called the Palazzo Dante, and the residence of the French Ambassador. Near it is also the dwelling place of the two Guicciardini.

_9th._ We quitted Florence this morning for Genoa, and drove on to Pistoja in two hours and a half. The road runs through a long continued row of villages and villas, linked together by the graceful festoons of the green vine. The plain is covered with Italian vineyards, in which the vines are trained from tree to tree, very different from those of Germany. The villages are full of roses; and the nearer hills are spotted with white houses, rising among the green trees, and beyond them appears a chain of loftier snow-tipped mountains. The inhabitants of the villages were all sitting in the sun before their doors, chiefly employed in plaiting straw for the Leghorn hats. The drive from Pistoja to Lucca is most beautiful; the land is in high cultivation, and appears to be very rich. The mountains became grander, more rugged and bolder, as we approached the Lucchese territory, which we entered about eight miles from Lucca. The ramparts surrounding the town are all planted with lofty trees, which perfectly conceal the houses beyond them, so that, with the exception of one or two towers, no part of the town is visible from without the walls. The streets are old, narrow, and dirty, and the cathedral is an awkward building, the front of which is formed of rows of small arches, one above another, surmounted by a gigantic uncouth white angel, in whose head was stuck a great dry bush.

_10th._ We quitted Lucca at seven in the morning, and from the top of the hill beyond it, I discovered the straight blue line of the Mediterranean. Descending the hill, and driving about ten miles through groves of olives and rows of poplars, from which the vines hung down in long single festoons, we passed the boundary of the Lucchese territory, and entered the small dukedom of Massa-Carrara, and shortly after into the town of Massa, a neat and airy though old town. White marble is generally used here for the stairs, and for the facings of the doors and windows. Whilst dinner was preparing, I took a walk up to the old castle above the town, now emphatically called _the fortress_. Its only garrison, however, seemed to consist of four or five soldiers, who were provided with one old rusty cannon. The view from the ruined battlements was highly beautiful: in front lay the wide sea, glancing in the beams of the sun, so bright that the eye could not bear to look upon it; to the left, in the distance, appeared the island of Gorgona, rising like a dark blue rock out of the glittering waves; to the right, two smaller islands were seen, beyond which appeared promontory upon promontory, conveying their woods of olives far out into the sea. Below the castle a vast plain covered with vineyards and groves of olives was seen, stretching down to the edge of the water, intersected by a silvery river winding among the trees, whilst immediately under the hill, and half hidden by it, lay Massa, like the plan of a town spread open before me. Beyond it were seen the wooded hills leading to Carrara, and behind the castle rose rocky and rugged mountains, here and there spotted with a field or two of remaining snow, and, like the Alps, hiding their lofty heads in dark grey clouds.

Quitting Massa, we drove over a noble bridge of one lofty arch built entirely of white marble, and after winding across a long hill, we passed through Carrara, near which, in one of the lateral vallies, are the celebrated marble quarries. A little beyond this village we entered the Piedmontese territory and the dominions of the King of Sardinia, and soon arrived at Sarzana, a small ill-looking town. It being Sunday, the road and town were covered with peasants in their holiday suits: the dress of the women is one of the oddest I have yet seen; they wear no stockings, and their clothes seem huddled on all in a bundle; their hair is drawn away from their foreheads, and tied up behind in a bag of silk, of different colours, some red, some blue, some black, and always with three or four tassels hanging down from the end, whilst on the top of this bag is stuck the funniest little straw hat possible, looking much like a soup plate turned topsy-turvy, and made of frizzled straw, ornamented with coloured ribbons. The women of a higher rank wear white veils over their heads, and no bags.

_11th._ Leaving Sarzana, we crossed the river Magara in a ferry-boat, and after a pleasant drive arrived at Spezia, a small narrow-streeted town, beautifully situated at the head of the gulf of Spezia, and surrounded on the side near the sea by spacious walks and groves of acacias, which were covered with their long white blossoms, and exhaled a most delightful perfume. In the middle of the gulf, not far from the town, we were informed that a spring of fresh water rises through the sea, forming a pool of fresh water of thirty to forty yards in circumference in the middle of the salt-water. I had however no time to visit this phenomenon, for Sir Humphry wished to be read to for an hour or two, and we shortly after quitted Spezia and with it the sea, and drove on to Borghetto, a little miserable village, the road to which was not yet finished, and very bad, though running through a beautiful valley, much resembling some of those of Austria, with its clear stream and finely wooded mountains.

_12th._ We quitted Borghetto early, and winding over a very long and high mountain for four hours, we again saw the sea, two or three thousand feet below us, spotted by many a white flitting sail. In the distance was Gorgona, and still further, scarcely visible to the eye, the hazy blue line of Corsica, which was however soon lost to us. A great part of the mountain was composed of _serpentine_, with which also the roads were mended. From the top we looked down upon other mountains, covered with villages, but very barren, a few olive groves here and there being the only mark of vegetation. At the bottom of the hill we passed through Sestri, a pretty little town close upon the sea, and from thence over a beautiful road on the sea shore to Chiavari, a larger town, rather more distant from the sea, and partly hidden by trees, above which rose its white steeples and some of its houses. The gulf of Sestri is far more beautiful and diversified even than that of Spezia.

_13th._ We quitted Chiavari this morning for Genoa. The road is beautiful and romantic, running for miles along the side of a mountain, and hanging perpendicularly over the sea, which lies many hundred feet below it. In many parts it appears very dangerous, and were the carriage to upset, the traveller would be instantly precipitated into the waves below. Between Chiavari and Rapal there are two tunnels cut through the solid rock. This latter place is a very pretty village or small town, close upon the sea, and the whole country round it seems very populous; country-houses, villas, and farms, appearing on all sides among the vineyards and olive woods. At the top of the last hill, after leaving Rapal, we came to another tunnel, which was carried through the summit for one hundred yards or more, and presented us with one of the most striking views possible. Looking through the mountain we first saw the blue and tranquil sea, with a few passing sails, then presently rose to view, as it were out of the ocean, the white and glittering towers of _Genova la superba_, and its field of masts, scarcely visible to the eye. Emerging from the tunnel the view became more extensive, for we could trace the road to Genoa, about ten miles off, running along the mountains somewhat above the sea, and lined with villages and villas lying upon the sides of the hills, which, however, were not so finely wooded as those we had just passed. This city of palaces much disappointed me, and does not at all answer to its splendid appearance from a distance; it seems like two different towns brought together from the opposite parts of the world, and built for very different inhabitants. The upper part of the city consists of magnificent streets, or rather rows of marble palaces, while the streets of the lower town form only an assemblage of dirty and narrow lanes. Our hotel, La Villa, looks out upon the harbour, which is chiefly filled with small craft. In the middle of the gulf, however, were three frigates in full sail, which were bearing the King of Sardinia and his suite to Naples.

_14th-17th._ Sir Humphry has determined to remain here two or three days to recover from the fatigues of the journey hither. Dr. Davy, who was to have left us here and return to Malta, has determined upon accompanying his brother to Geneva. I generally read to Sir Humphry the greater part of the day, but I went on the 15th for a couple of hours upon one of the hills behind the town, and took a sketch of it as it lay stretched out beneath me. The hills are indeed rather barren, and this, combined with the scarcity of fish, speak for the truth of at least a part of the following proverb,

Mare senza pesce, Montagne senza legno, Donna senza pudore,

which is often applied to Genoa. I went one evening to the theatre, after Sir Humphry had retired to bed, and was much amused by a magnificent ballet, Carlo di Borgogna, which, however, ended in a very tragical manner, the heroine being struck dead by lightning amongst rocks and snow, and precipitated into a roaring torrent. The theatre is quite new, and is splendidly decorated.

_18th._ We quitted Genoa this morning, and drove through the whole town round by the harbour and lighthouse, from which spot the city is seen to the greatest advantage, the white and magnificent buildings and churches rising one above another above the thick crowd of masts, whilst behind the city the hills appear almost covered with country villas and gardens, which in some measure make up for the want of wood. On one or two of these hills are fortresses, which were nearly concealed by the dark and lowering clouds. We drove for some way through a long and very populous suburb on the sea-shore, and then turned off into the valley; and upon reaching the top of a very steep hill, took a last view of the Mediterranean. We reached Ronco, a small and dirty village, but with a decent inn, in a very heavy shower of rain, and having dined there, we afterwards continued our journey to Novi, a small common-place town, where we remained for the night.

_19th._ We quitted Novi early, and dined at Alexandria, passing over the plains of Marengo, now fine and flourishing corn-fields. In spite of the thick clouds, we now and then caught a glimpse of the white snow on the distant Alps. Alexandria is a small, and apparently not a very strong fortress. After dinner we drove on to Asti, the birth-place of Alfieri, but as much or more celebrated for its fine wines.

_20th._ We left Asti, and reached Piorino by dinner-time; the roads were very bad, and became still worse between the latter place and Turin. Some time before we reached Turin we came to the Po, which is here not quite so large as the Neckar, but is deep and muddy. Turin lies flat, and has not the appearance of a great city from a distance. A fine bridge over the Po leads into the Piazza del Po, a noble square, forming the entrance into the town. The streets are all built at right angles, which gives to the whole city a neat and regular appearance. We remained here during the 21st, which was a completely wet day, the rain beginning in the morning and continuing without intermission.

_22nd._ Quitting Turin, the road for the first eight or ten miles was excellent, but afterwards was not so good. St. Ambrosio, where we dined, is a small and dirty village. Every body already speaks French, and the Piedmontese-Italian, which we met with at Sarzana, and heard spoken till we reached Turin, is now quite lost in _patois_ of French and Italian. From St. Ambrosio we had a wet drive to Susa, a small town, prettily situated at the foot of Monte Cenisio or Mont Cenis. Our road lay through a valley bounded on each side by snowy Alps, mostly hidden in the dark grey clouds, which towards evening fell in a heavy shower, and then sailed away up the mountain, leaving the evening finer than could have been expected, and promising a fair day for the ascent of Mont Cenis to-morrow.

_23rd._ I have now crossed Mont Cenis, one of the highest and most celebrated alpine passes, and I have been much disappointed; though I have seen it not only in the dark and veiling gloom of an approaching storm, but have also gazed upon its bleak and rugged rocks, its frozen lake, and its fields of snow, glittering in the redoubled splendour of the returning sunbeams after the storm had passed away; for I must confess that it cannot bear comparison either with the pass of the Löbel, or the Tauern. It has not the brilliant vegetation of either of these to relieve the eye during the long ascent, nor is the wanderer struck with the fine views that meet him on the Austrian passes, either during the ascent, on the summit, or on the descent. After leaving Susa and the lower vallies, all is bleak and dreary, rock or snow; the road is very good, and often defended by very stout bars. Ascending higher, we reached the _Case di ricovero_ or houses of refuge, small square cottages built on the road side at short distances from one another, and which afford shelter to travellers during the storms that are very frequent here, and are generally accompanied by tremendous winds. During our ascent we were visited by a storm of hail and rain, which lasted for about an hour. Nearly on the summit of the mountain is a hospital, with a few other houses, and two or three inns, and the whole bears the name of Les Tavernes. We here passed the boundary of Italy, and entered into the duchy of Savoy. In front of the little village is a small lake, which was still frozen, and the people at one of the inns told me that in summer its banks are haunted by large, but harmless serpents, which are very good to eat. About half a league beyond Les Tavernes we found ourselves on the summit of the pass, and looked down upon Lans-le-bourg, at the bottom of a wide but barren valley. A few snowy mountains appeared in the distance, but they were neither remarkable in form or height. The road on the French side is by no means so long or so steep as that on the Italian side, though it often winds round very unnecessarily. We descended to Lans-le-bourg in less than two hours, and remained there for the night.

_24th._ Quitting Lans-le-bourg we followed the valley, which becomes more beautiful as we advanced further to St. Michael. The sides are frequently covered with fine woods, from amongst which many grand and lofty cascades come rushing down into the Ose, which foams and hurries on in its rocky bed by the road side. Near St. Michael is a large and strong fortress, which quite commands the road in the valley. From hence we drove on through St. Jean, a small town, prettily situated and surrounded by some fine rocky scenery, to La Chambre, a paltry little village, with a miserable inn, where however we were obliged to spend the night.

_25th._ We quitted La Chambre early, and drove on through Aiguebelle, where we quitted the valley, and passed on through a more open and hilly country to Maltaverne, a very good inn, with one or two small houses near it. The surrounding country seems very well cultivated, and appears to be very productive.

_26th._ We left Maltaverne this morning early, for Aix-aux-Bains, passing through Mount Melian, a small town on the Ose, the same river which we followed from the foot of Mount Cenis, and which we here left a broad and navigable stream. Three leagues further we passed through Chambery, the capital of Savoy, an old town, with dirty and narrow streets, at least those through which we drove, but beautifully situated in a valley, and surrounded with magnificent hills and woods. A very fine road up a long and steep hill, brought us in a couple of hours to Aix, which is a very neat little bathing place, and which appears, from the list of last year, to have been much frequented during the season. The springs, which are warm and cold, contain chiefly sulphur and alum. Near the village is the lake of Bourget, which is pretty, though not on a grand or imposing scale. I took a sketch of it from a stone pier which is built out to a short distance in the lake, and then returned to read to Sir Humphry, who seemed pleased with the sketch, and said he should like to have it introduced in a future edition of "Salmonia," it being one of the lakes which he speaks of in his last dialogue.

_27th._ Quitting Aix, we passed through a finely cultivated, though not very pretty country, the nearer hills being rather barren, and the distant view obscured by clouds, as it has been for the last day or two, to Frangy, a small country village, where we passed the evening, as Sir Humphry did not wish to go on any further.

_28th._ We quitted Frangy this morning, and reached Geneva by twelve o'clock, and drove to the _Couronne_. Sir Humphry is in very tolerable spirits, and the journey seems to have fatigued him so little, that he intends to-morrow morning going out to fish in the lake.

_29th May._ I quitted Sir Humphry yesterday evening, after having read to him as usual, since we left Rome, till about ten o'clock. Our book was Smollet's "Humphry Clinker," and little did I think it was the last book he would ever listen to. He seemed in tolerable spirits, but upon going to bed was seized with spasms, which, however, were not violent, and soon ceased. I left him when in bed, and bidding me "Good night," he said I should see him better in the morning.