Cross the Po.--A woody country.--The Vintage.--Reggio.--Ridge of
the Apennines.--Romantic ideas connected with those
mountains.--Arrive at Modena.--Road to Bologna.--Magnificent
Convent of Madonna del Monte.--Natural and political commotions in
Bologna.--Proceed towards the mountains.--Dreary prospects.--The
scenery improves.--Herds of goats.--A run with them.--Return to the
carriage.--Wretched hamlet.--Miserable repast.
September 12th, 1780.
A shower, having fallen, the air was refreshed, and the drops still
glittered upon the vines, through which our road conducted us. Three or
four miles from Mantua the scene changed to extensive grounds of rice,
and meads of the tenderest verdure watered by springs, whose frequent
meanders gave to the whole prospect the appearance of a vast green
carpet shot with silver. Further on we crossed the Po, and passing
Guastalla, entered a woody country full of inclosures and villages;
herds feeding in the meadows, and poultry parading before every wicket.
The peasants were busied in winnowing their corn; or, mounted upon the
elms and poplars, gathering the rich clusters from the vines that hang
streaming in braids from one branch to another. I was surprised to find
myself already in the midst of the vintage, and to see every road
crowded with carts and baskets bringing it along; you cannot imagine a
pleasanter scene.
Round Reggio it grew still more lively, and on the other side of that
sketch-inviting little city, I remarked many a cottage that Tityrus
might have inhabited, with its garden and willow hedge in flower,
swarming with bees. Our road, the smoothest conceivable, enabled us to
pass too rapidly through so cheerful a landscape. I caught glimpses of
fields and copses as we were driven along, that could have afforded me
amusement for hours, and orchards on gentle acclivities, beneath which I
could have walked till evening. The trees literally bent under their
loads of fruit, and innumerable ruddy apples lay scattered upon the
ground.
Beyond these rich masses of foliage, to which the sun lent additional
splendour, at the utmost extremity of the pastures, rose the irregular
ridge of the Apennines, whose deep blue presented a striking contrast
to the glowing colours of the foreground. I fixed my eyes on the chain
of distant mountains, and indulged a thousand romantic conjectures of
what was passing in their recesses--hermits absorbed in
prayer--beautiful Contadine fetching water from springs, and banditti
conveying their victims, perhaps at this very moment, to caves and
fastnesses.
Such were the dreams that filled my fancy, and kept it incessantly
employed till it was dusk, and the moon began to show herself; the same
moon which but a few nights ago had seen me so happy at Fiesso. I left
the carriage, and running into the dim haze, abandoned myself to the
recollections it excited....
At length, having wandered where chance or the wildness of my fancy led,
till the lateness of the evening alarmed me, I regained the chaise as
fast as I could, and arrived between twelve and one at Modena, the place
of my destination.
September 13th.
We traversed a champagne country in our way to Bologna, whose richness
and fertility encreased in proportion as we drew near that celebrated
mart of lap-dogs and sausages. A chain of hills commands the city,
variegated with green inclosures and villas innumerable. On the highest
acclivity of this range appears the magnificent convent of Madonna del
Monte, embosomed in wood and joined to the town by a corridor a league
in length. This vast portico ascending the steeps and winding amongst
the thickets, sometimes concealed and sometimes visible, produces an
effect wonderfully grand and singular. I longed to have mounted the
height by so extraordinary a passage; and hope on some future day to be
better acquainted with Santa Maria del Monte.
At present I have very little indeed to say about Bologna (where I
passed only two hours) except that it is sadly out of humour, an
earthquake and Cardinal Buoncompagni having disarranged both land and
people. For half-a-year the ground continued trembling; and for these
last six months, the legate and senators have grumbled and scratched
incessantly; so that, between natural and political commotions, the
Bolognese must have passed an agreeable summer.
Such a report of the situation of things, you may suppose, was not
likely to retard my journey. I put off delivering my letters to another
opportunity, and proceeded immediately after dinner towards the
mountains. We were soon in the midst of crags and stony channels, that
stream with ten thousand rills in the winter season, but during the
summer months reflect every sunbeam, and harbour half the scorpions in
the country.
For many a toilsome league our prospect consisted of nothing but dreary
hillocks and intervening wastes, more barren and mournful than those to
which Mary Magdalene retired. Sometimes a crucifix or chapel peeped out
of the parched fern and grasses, with which these desolate fields are
clothed; and now and then we met a goggle-eyed pilgrim trudging along,
and staring about him as if he waited only for night and opportunity to
have additional reasons for hurrying to Loretto.
During three or four hours that we continued ascending, the scene
increased in sterility and desolation; but, at the end of our second
post, the landscape began to alter for the better: little green valleys
at the base of tremendous steeps, discovered themselves, scattered over
with oaks, and freshened with running waters, which the nakedness of the
impending rocks set off to advantage. The sides of the cliffs in general
consist of rude misshapen masses; but their summits are smooth and
verdant, and continually browsed by herds of white goats, which were
gambolling on the edge of the precipices as we passed beneath.
I joined one of these frisking assemblies, whose shadows were stretched
by the setting sun along the level herbage. There I sat a few minutes
whilst they shook their beards at me, and tried to scare me with all
their horns. Being tired with skipping and butting at me in vain, the
whole herd trotted away, and I after them. They led me a dance from crag
to crag and from thicket to thicket.
It was growing dusky apace, and wreaths of smoke began to ascend from
the mysterious depths of the valleys. I was ignorant what monster
inhabited such retirements, so gave over my pursuit lest some Polypheme
or other might make me repent it. I looked around, the carriage was out
of sight; but hearing the neighing of horses at a distance, I soon came
up with them, and mounted another rapid ascent, from whence an extensive
tract of cliff and forest land was discernible.
A chill wind blew from the highest peak of the Apennines, and made a
dismal rustle amongst the woods of chesnut that hung on the mountain’s
side, through which we were forced to pass. Walking out of the sound of
the carriage, I began interpreting the language of the leaves, not
greatly to my own advantage or that of any being in the universe. I was
no prophet of good, and had I but commanded an oracle, as ancient
visionaries were wont, I should have flung mischief about me.
How long I continued in this strange temper I cannot pretend to say, but
believe it was midnight before we emerged from the oracular forest, and
saw faintly before us an assemblage of miserable huts, where we were to
sleep. This wretched hamlet is suspended on the brow of a bleak
mountain, and every gust that stirs, shakes the whole village to its
foundations. At our approach two hags stalked forth with lanterns and
invited us with a grin, which I shall always remember, to a dish of
mustard and crows’ gizzards, a dish I was more than half afraid of
tasting, lest it should change me to some bird of darkness, condemned to
mope eternally on the black rafters of the cottage.
After repeated supplications we procured a few eggs, and some faggots to
make a fire. Pitching my bed in a warm corner I soon fell asleep, and
forgot all my cares and inquietudes.