Hotel des Colonies, Marseilles, May 29th, Saturday.--Wednesday was the
day fixed for our departure from Rome, and after breakfast I walked to
the Pincian, and saw the garden and the city, and the Borghese grounds,
and St. Peter's in an earlier sunlight than ever before. Methought they
never looked so beautiful, nor the sky so bright and blue. I saw Soracte
on the horizon, and I looked at everything as if for the last time; nor
do I wish ever to see any of these objects again, though no place ever
took so strong a hold of my being as Rome, nor ever seemed so close to me
and so strangely familiar. I seem to know it better than my birthplace,
and to have known it longer; and though I have been very miserable there,
and languid with the effects of the atmosphere, and disgusted with a
thousand things in its daily life, still I cannot say I hate it, perhaps
might fairly own a love for it. But life being too short for such
questionable and troublesome enjoyments, I desire never to set eyes on it
again. . . . .
. . . . We traversed again that same weary and dreary tract of country
which we passed over in a winter afternoon and night on our first arrival
in Rome. It is as desolate a country as can well be imagined, but about
midway of our journey we came to the sea-shore, and kept very near it
during the rest of the way. The sight and fragrance of it were
exceedingly refreshing after so long an interval, and U---- revived
visibly as we rushed along, while J----- chuckled and contorted himself
with ineffable delight.
We reached Civita Vecchia in three or four hours, and were there
subjected to various troubles. . . . . All the while Miss S------ and I
were bothering about the passport, the rest of the family sat in the sun
on the quay, with all kinds of bustle and confusion around them; a very
trying experience to U---- after the long seclusion and quiet of her
sick-chamber. But she did not seem to suffer from it, and we finally
reached the steamer in good condition and spirits. . . . .
I slept wretchedly in my short and narrow berth, more especially as there
was an old gentleman who snored as if he were sounding a charge; it was
terribly hot too, and I rose before four o'clock, and was on deck amply
in time to watch the distant approach of sunrise. We arrived at Leghorn
pretty early, and might have gone ashore and spent the day. Indeed, we
had been recommended by Dr. Franco, and had fully purposed to spend a
week or ten days there, in expectation of benefit to U----'s health from
the sea air and sea bathing, because he thought her still too feeble to
make the whole voyage to Marseilles at a stretch. But she showed herself
so strong that we thought she would get as much good from our three days'
voyage as from the days by the sea-shore. Moreover, . . . . we all of us
still felt the languor of the Roman atmosphere, and dreaded the hubbub
and crazy confusion of landing at an Italian port. . . . . So we lay in
the harbor all day without stirring from the steamer. . . . . It would
have been pleasant, however, to have gone to Pisa, fifteen miles off, and
seen the leaning tower; but, for my part, I have arrived at that point
where it is somewhat pleasanter to sit quietly in any spot whatever than
to see whatever grandest or most beautiful thing. At least this was my
mood in the harbor of Leghorn. From the deck of the steamer there were
many things visible that might have been interesting to describe: the
boats of peculiar rig, and covered with awning; the crowded shipping; the
disembarkation of horses from the French cavalry, which were lowered from
steamers into gondolas or lighters, and hung motionless, like the sign of
the Golden Fleece, during the transit, only kicking a little when their
feet happened to graze the vessel's side. One horse plunged overboard,
and narrowly escaped drowning. There was likewise a disembarkation of
French soldiers in a train of boats, which rowed shoreward with sound of
trumpet. The French are concentrating a considerable number of troops at
this point.
Our steamer was detained by order of the French government to take on
board despatches; so that, instead of sailing at dusk, as is customary,
we lay in the harbor till seven of the next morning. A number of young
Sardinian officers, in green uniform, came on board, and a pale and
picturesque-looking Italian, and other worthies of less note,--English,
American, and of all races,--among them a Turk with a little boy in
Christian dress; also a Greek gentleman with his young bride.
At the appointed time we weighed anchor for Genoa, and had a beautiful
day on the Mediterranean, and for the first time in my life I saw the
real dark blue of the sea. I do not remember noticing it on my outward
voyage to Italy. It is the most beautiful hue that can be imagined, like
a liquid sky; and it retains its lustrous blue directly under the side of
the ship, where the water of the mid-Atlantic looks greenish. . . . . We
reached Genoa at seven in the afternoon. . . . . Genoa looks most
picturesquely from the sea, at the foot of a sheltering semicircle of
lofty hills; and as we lay in the harbor we saw, among other interesting
objects, the great Doria Palace, with its gardens, and the cathedral, and
a heap and sweep of stately edifices, with the mountains looking down
upon he city, and crowned with fortresses. The variety of hue in the
houses, white, green, pink, and orange, was very remarkable. It would
have been well to go ashore here for an hour or two and see the streets,
--having already seen the palaces, churches, and public buildings at our
former visit,--and buy a few specimens of Genoa goldsmiths' work; but I
preferred the steamer's deck, so the evening passed pleasantly away; the
two lighthouses at the entrance of the port kindled up their fires, and
at nine o'clock the evening gun thundered from the fortress, and was
reverberated from the heights. We sailed away at eleven, and I was
roused from my first sleep by the snortings and hissings of the vessel as
she got under way.
At Genoa we took on board some more passengers, an English nobleman with
his lady being of the number. These were Lord and Lady J------, and
before the end of our voyage his lordship talked to me of a translation
of Tasso in which he is engaged, and a stanza or two of which he repeated
to me. I really liked the lines, and liked too the simplicity and
frankness with which he spoke of it to me a stranger, and the way be
seemed to separate his egotism from the idea which he evidently had that
he is going to make an excellent translation. I sincerely hope it may be
so. He began it without any idea of publishing it, or of ever bringing
it to a conclusion, but merely as a solace and occupation while in great
trouble during an illness of his wife, but he has gradually come to find
it the most absorbing occupation he ever undertook; and as Mr. Gladstone
and other high authorities give him warm encouragement, he now means to
translate the entire poem, and to publish it with beautiful
illustrations, and two years hence the world may expect to see it. I do
not quite perceive how such a man as this--a man of frank, warm, simple,
kindly nature, but surely not of a poetical temperament, or very refined,
or highly cultivated--should make a good version of Tasso's poems; but
perhaps the dead poet's soul may take possession of this healthy
organization, and wholly turn him to its own purposes.
The latter part of our voyage to-day lay close along the coast of France,
which was hilly and picturesque, and as we approached Marseilles was very
bold and striking. We steered among rocky islands, rising abruptly out
of the sea, mere naked crags, without a trace of verdure upon them, and
with the surf breaking at their feet. They were unusual specimens of
what hills would look like without the soil, that is to them what flesh
is to a skeleton. Their shapes were often wonderfully fine, and the
great headlands thrust themselves out, and took such lines of light and
shade that it seemed like sailing through a picture. In the course of
the afternoon a squall came up and blackened the sky all over in a
twinkling; our vessel pitched and tossed, and a brig a little way from us
had her sails blown about in wild fashion. The blue of the sea turned as
black as night, and soon the rain began to spatter down upon us, and
continued to sprinkle and drizzle a considerable time after the wind had
subsided. It was quite calm and pleasant when we entered the harbor of
Marseilles, which lies at the foot of very fair hills, and is set among
great cliffs of stone. I did not attend much to this, however, being in
dread of the difficulty of landing and passing through the custom-house
with our twelve or fourteen trunks and numberless carpet-bags. The
trouble vanished into thin air, nevertheless, as we approached it, for
not a single trunk or bag was opened, and, moreover, our luggage and
ourselves were not only landed, but the greater part of it conveyed to
the railway without any expense. Long live Louis Napoleon, say I. We
established ourselves at the Hotel des Colonies, and then Mss S------,
J-----, and I drove hither and thither about Marseilles, making
arrangements for our journey to Avignon, where we mean to go to-day. We
might have avoided a good deal of this annoyance; but travellers, like
other people, are continually getting their experience just a little too
late. It was after nine before we got back to the hotel and took our tea
in peace.