Our journey to and through Mont Cenis Tunnel: Passing the Customs: Our
new friend Nurse Reynolds: Our scrimmage for provisions at Turin: Arrival
at Genoa and Table-de-hote: Arrival at Rome and our Hotel, etc.
Mountains, rivers, waterfalls, landscapes, vineyards, castles, chalets,
and in some cases, so near the villages, we saw children playing on the
village green, our train steaming on at a good speed, we soon found
ourselves at Modane. This is the frontier between France and Italy, and
here I expected we should have to change trains, go through the Customs,
and re-embark on another train. So we got out of the train. I soon
found, however, we were not to change, so we re-entered another part of
the same train, and here we were civilly and carefully dealt with; the
very acme of politeness was shown. Our bags and valises were just
opened, but scarcely examined. We declared we had nothing within, to the
best of our knowledge and belief, upon which duty was payable. When asked
the question, I answered “Non, Monsieur.” When we came to settle down
before the train proceeded on its journey we noticed our fellow
travellers were different. We found two ladies, mother and daughter,
going to join a near relative in India; an Italian woman, not over clean,
with a babe about four weeks’ old; and a nurse in uniform who was going
to Rome to fill a position, also she wanted to learn the Italian
language. My dear wife and this nurse soon became close acquaintances,
as they both had learned the profession, and for some time they were too
absorbed almost to notice the scenery we were passing, for we were now
nearing the Alps through which we were to pass. We reached Mont Cenis
duly, and, as we heard so much of this terrible tunnel, we almost dreaded
passing through it. At this point there is an old pass over Mont Cenis,
or roadway between Piedmont and Savoy, the highest point 11,570 feet
above sea level. The pass was an old unused road, and dangerous on
account of brigands and bandittis. Bonaparte, be it said to his credit,
in 1803, spent £300,000 in repairing it, and it was here the great
Napoleon III. sent his troops into Italy against Austria in 1859. The
tunnel is about eight miles in length. To make it was a work of almost
superhuman labour and skill. It was commenced by two sets of men, one on
the Italian side and one set on the French side, in the year 1857; and so
exact had been the calculations made, that when the men met in the
middle, they were not a single foot out of their calculations. The cost
was nearly £3,000,000, and quite a number of valuable lives. Now, both
for business and pleasure, a way has been opened to the sunny south. We
settled in our respective corners as we pierced this great mountain, and
gave ourselves up to reflection. The great train thundered on, and
silence largely held us all in its thrall. The half-hour in going
through Mont Cenis seemed almost half-a-day. At last we emerged into the
day light, and into the glorious sunshine of sunny Italy, with its
vine-clad hills, and its serene and sunny sky—“Land of all lands the
pride,” leaving behind us the Alpine heights (to revisit them on our
return). We were running for Turin. We found we had no buffet on the
train, and as we had not laid in a stock of refreshments, we began to
feel the cravings of nature, and we began to wonder how they were to be
satisfied. We ultimately pulled up at Turin; how long we were to stop I
did not know, and I could not ask, for now it was beyond my bit of
French. I said to my dear wife, here goes, we must have bread or starve:
if the train leaves before I return to you—well, good-bye! But I will do
my best to be back in a few minutes and before the train leaves. Without
hat I rushed down the platform looking for a buffet, right at the bottom
of a long platform I saw the word buffet. I darted in, threw down a
lire, and picked up two rolls of bread worth about twopence each, also
some fruit worth about as much. I seized these and hurried back to the
carriage, passengers and people looking on and the waiters seemed to
think I must be an escaped lunatic. Well! I reached our carriage just as
the train was moving out. What would have happened if I had been left
behind I do not care to think. “All’s well that ends well.” So we got
at least something that would keep soul and body together until we could
get a proper meal. We had decided to stop at Genoa, but my wife said
“well, now Nurse is going right through to Rome, let us keep her
company.” So we decided not to remain at Genoa, but to go right through;
that meant twenty-four hours in the train. As we were approaching Genoa
we could see lovely vine-clad slopes, also the hills, the rivers and
lakes, the landscapes, lovely beyond my power to describe.
Genoa is a very fine city. I felt I could say of it as is said of the
City of Jerusalem. Beautiful for situation is Genoa. Here we found we
should have time for dinner; twenty minutes being allowed. We left our
carriage—now I had two nurses to take care of—we had to go under some
arches, and across several platforms, to get to the buffet; this took us
five minutes out of the twenty. We found, to our extreme satisfaction, a
table-de-hote fully set out. Soup was laid out and waiting; waiters
plenty. No sooner one course was over, another was before us—chicken,
fish, saddle of mutton, pastry, ices, and more than we needed—so that in
ten minutes we had well satisfied the inner man. Cigars were lying on
the counter, and each passenger having dinner just helped himself, also
to as much fruit as we could conveniently take. We were also helping
ourselves to Post Cards but these, we were reminded, we must pay for as
extra. So we scampered back with all speed. Never, I think, did a
dinner of eight courses disappear so quickly. We had no time to explore
the town, and we could only get glimpses of it from the train going in.
It is called “le Superb.” Has some of the finest churches in Italy; is
also a city of Commerce, of Shipping. It is a garrisoned city, and has
fortifications considered impregnable. It is a city of palaces. Also
has a picture gallery containing some fine paintings by the old masters,
one by Guercino, in the very best colouring, “Virgin and Child.” This
has been a favourite subject of the Artists, as both in oils and in
marble and stone, this subject is prominent. “The Flight into Egypt” is
another favourite. These, however, we had not the pleasure of seeing, so
we could only have the pleasure of knowing we had been near them. We
left Genoa about 9 p.m.; it was quite dark, and so sultry we could hardly
bear the heat of the atmosphere. We hutched up into our corners to try
to sleep, but with the rattle of the train, the screams of the baby, and
the impatience of the mother, we could not sleep, at least I could not.
I think my wife got a little sleep. So did the nurse, our travelling
companion. Before midnight, there broke over us a thunder storm. The
lightning was so vivid I could clearly see the objects we passed, and it
continued for several hours. We passed the leaning tower of Pisa before
daylight broke in upon us, we were also getting too tired to enjoy the
look out when the day broke.
As we sped on we expected to see the City of Rome about 10 a.m. At last
the vision burst upon our view. Rome at last. Yes, certainly, there is
the proud City. Its towers, spires and domes, and minarets, all
glistening in the morning sun. The monuments and ruins of this city
still standing testifies to the greatness of its past history. The
gigantic Colosseum to the humblest of ruins, everything in Rome is
eloquent in the language of history. We soon hunted up our luggage, and
made our way out of the carriage to the platform. After a few words with
our companion, the Nurse, we separated. She was expecting to be met, and
we were anxious to get to our hotel. This time we had chosen the “Grand
Hotel Continental,” and finding their ’bus at the station we were soon
conveyed to our destination.
The hotel was certainly of a high-class order, and very extensive. The
grand saloon for dining was most costly furnished. Mirrors and paintings
on the walls gave brilliancy and attractiveness to the scene. The
lecture room, the smoke room, the reading room, were all most luxuriantly
fitted up. The bed rooms also were sweet and clean. Abundance of
lavatories, bathrooms, lifts, etc., make the place a comfortable home
from home. After having fixed our number (I mean the number of our bed
room, this was always our first business at a fresh hotel) we had
breakfast, then a bath, for we had no opportunity of even a good wash
since leaving Chambery twenty-four hours ago. We were needing it badly.
An ample supply of hot water for the bath, towels ready to hand, soap we
carried with us. We thought it strange, but we found it true, the hotels
don’t find soap. This reminds me of Mark Twain’s position when in Italy,
in his “Innocents Abroad.” He says, “We have had a bath in Milan, in a
public house. They were going to put all three of us in one bath tub,
but we objected. We chose to have three tubs, and large ones—tubs suited
to the dignity of aristocrats who had real estate, and brought it with
them. After we were stripped and had taken the first chilly dash, we
discovered that haunting atrocity that has embittered our lives in so
many cities and villages of Italy, there was no soap. I called. A woman
answered and I barely had time to throw myself against the door, before
she would have been in, in another second. I said, ‘Beware, woman! Go
away from here—go away, now, or it will be worse for you. I am an
unprotected male, but I will preserve my honour at the peril of my
life.’” We had a good bath, then to bed for a few hours, as we had had
hardly any sleep in the train. We rose about 2.30 p.m. refreshed, and
after lunch we prepared for a stroll or ride to see the sights of this
wonderful city. We soon found it is a wonderful city. The ancient and
the modern are seen at almost every point. And yet you seem to feel
there is no jar on your taste or feeling.