Trip to Genoa.--The Mail.--National vanity.--Massa.--Carrara.
Picturesque Road.--Romantic Villages.--Genoa.--The Strada Balbi.--The
Sava Palace.--The Town, Scenery and Port.--Environs.--Splendid
Prospect.--Italian humour.
A sudden call drew me from Florence during the carnival, and put me
unexpectedly on the road to Paris. As I went alone, I took the mail, or
_malle-poste_; a species of travelling in great request for those who
are in a hurry. The mail is always attended by a guard, who accompanies
it from one great town to another. His duty it is to see it properly
delivered by the way; and to receive contributions that offer on the
route. The contractor is permitted to take one or two travellers in his
carriage, which is purposely disposed so as to receive them.
I took my place accordingly as far as Genoa, and we left Florence just
as the sun was setting, with our lamps lighted. As we drove through the
gate of Pisa, I observed a dragoon dashing along, on each side of us,
and was then told that frequent robberies had rendered this escort
necessary, until we got out of Lucca. There was a _contadino_ inside,
a respectable farmer, who was going a post or two down the Arno, and
his eye glistened with delight as he regarded the dragoons. “Those
are the boys, signore,” he observed to me. “Nineteen of them put five
hundred Neapolitans to flight here during the late wars.” I wonder if
there be a people on the globe that does not think itself the salt of
the earth! Near Salins last year, as we approached Switzerland, the
postilion gravely pointed to a fort, which he affirmed had surrendered
to five-and-twenty French, though garrisoned by two hundred Austrians.
One can hear of such prodigies anywhere, though they are obstinately
uncommon in practice, “even Providence,” as Frederick expressed it,
“being usually on the side of strong battalions.”
We drove through Pisa at midnight, and reached Lucca before day. On
the confines of this little territory we got some beautiful scenery,
the road descending and climbing _á la Suisse_, offering occasional
glimpses of the Sea. Massa, the capital of the duchy of that name,
was little more than a straggling village, seated on a hill side, but
picturesque and Italian; and Carrara, which aspires to the title of a
principality, and which is so well known for its statuary marble, is
not much more. Both the small states belong to the Duchess Dowager of
Modena, and at her death will come under the government of the Duke of
Modena, extending his possessions, which already join them, to the sea.
Here the Apennines approached the Mediterranean, until we soon saw
their noble piles forming capes and headlands, impending over the
blue element. It was altogether a wild and picturesque road, running
among and over mountains, along the margin of torrents and through
frowning gorges, with occasional openings toward the Mediterranean,
that seemed like the breaking away of clouds in winter. One of the
most extraordinary features of the scenery was the manner in which
grey villages were stuck like wasps’ nests against the acclivities,
resembling romantic structures placed in the most picturesque positions
on purpose to produce an effect. Fifty of these dusky hamlets rose like
bas-reliefs, or embossings, from the brown sides of the mountains; and
some of them seemed perched on pinnacles that the foot of man could
hardly scale.--I had never before seen anything, in its way, half so
wild and romantic as the rustic hamlets in the distance; though a few
that we entered completely destroyed the charm on the near view.
At Spezzia an indentation of the coast brought our carriage wheels
fairly into the water; and after this we began to ascend. Just as night
closed we were buried in the mountains, and I composed myself to sleep.
A jog from the _conductor_ awoke me, while we were driving through a
gallery that equalled the boasted cuttings of the Simplon.--Looking
out, I found we were on the coast again; and passing village after
village in quick succession, we reached the gates of Genoa, amid a
crowd of donkeys, and of market-people of both sexes, who profited by
our arrival to enter the town.
You are to remember that I have promised nothing but the gleanings that
are to be had after the harvests gathered by those who have gone before
me. My task, therefore, is less one of minute and close description,
than of desultory findings. This peculiarity may cause occasional
meagreness of facts, and some apparent eccentricities of thought; for
while I pretend to have gathered no more of what has been left by
others than has come in my way, most of what I have actually seen is
necessarily unrecorded, and on matters of opinion are commonly uttered
when I have found reason to differ from the multitude.
At Genoa I remained two days. To the peculiar attractions of a port,
and that too a port of the Mediterranean, where added the magnificence
and glories of a capital. Every one has read of the palaces of this
town, the _Strada Balbi_ probably having no equal, in its way, in any
other European capital. It is not wide, is without side walks, and
but for the structures that line its two sides, would offer nothing
remarkable. For more than a mile, however, it is a succession of
edifices, that, in any other country but Italy, would be deemed fit for
royalty. The Faubourg St. Germain has more large hotels, certainly;
but the architecture is better here, and the material much superior
to that in use in France. I should think that in the material point
of gardens, the French capital has greatly the advantage. I entered
several of these fine houses, which were generally remarkable for their
marbles, staircases, and paintings. That of Sava is known all over
Europe for a saloon that is covered with mirrors which reflect its half
columns in a way to give it the air of a fairy palace. This room, when
well lighted, must present an extraordinary sight; though it is rather
small for its style of ornament. I have seen many rooms decorated in
this mode, but never one with the blended magnificence and simplicity
that are to be observed here. Generally the effect has been that of a
toy,--a sort of German prettiness, or German conceit; but there was
none of this in the Sava palace. The master of this noble house is
not _compos mentis_, though quiet and harmless. He was seated over a
brazier, in an ante-chamber, in the company of the ladies, as I passed
through; and he rose politely to return my bow, muttering some words
of compliment. It may be that he has a simple satisfaction in this
amusement, but it struck me painfully. The antics of the carnival were
acting in this fine street.
I saw the palace of the king, and some of the pictures; that of the
Feast of Cana in particular. But the town, the scenery, and the port
most attracted me. Genoa lies at the base of a hill, around the head
of a large cove, which has been converted into a fine harbour by means
of two moles. One quarter of the town actually stands on low cliffs
that are washed by the sea, which must sometimes throw its spray into
the streets. Its position consequently unites the several beauties of a
gorgeous capital with all its works of art, the movement and bustle of
a port, the view of a sea with passing ships and its varying aspects of
calms and tempests, with a background of stupendous hills; for at this
point the Alps send out those grand accessories to their magnificence,
the Apennines. The place is fortified, and the nature of the ground
requiring that the adjacent hill should be included, the _enceinte_ is
large enough to contain all Paris. On the side of the cliffs and at the
moles, are water batteries; the entire port is separated from the town
by a high wall, which, while it does little more in the way of defence
than protect the revenue, offers a peculiarly beautiful promenade,
which overlooks the busy and picturesque little haven. Towards the land
the works are more regular, and are intended for defence. The ascent is
rapid after one is out of the streets; and the walls, flanked by forts,
follow the line of a ridge, that is shaped like an irregular triangle,
which by falling off precipitously towards the country, supersedes the
necessity of ditches.
I took a horse and made the circuit of the walls. The day was mild,
but had passing clouds; and some of the views towards the interior
were of an extraordinary character. A deep valley separated us from
the district around the works; and there were several fine glimpses,
in a sort of wild perspective, among the recesses of the mountains.--I
scarcely remember a scene of more peculiar wildness blended with
beauty, than some of these glimpses offered; though the passing clouds
and the season perhaps contributed to the effect. The inland views
resembled some of the backgrounds of the pictures of Leonardo da Vinci.
Indeed, it is only in Italy, and among its romantic heights with their
castle-resembling village and towns, that one first gets an accurate
notion of the models that the older masters painted.
Seaward, the prospect from the apex of the triangle was truly glorious.
The day was mild, and twenty sail was loitering along, quaint in their
rig, as usual, and wallowing to the heavy ground swell. Here I got
almost a bird’s-eye view of the town, port, and offing, with the noble
range of coast southward, and a pile of purple mountains whose feet
were lined with villages. I scarcely remember a day in Switzerland that
was more fruitful of delight than this. As I descended to the highway,
one of the royal equipages, a coach and six, with scarlet liveries,
went by at a stately pace, followed by another with four, and several
outriders. It added to the brilliancy of the foreground of the picture.
The large space between the town and the walls was nearly waste; though
there stands a citadel, overlooking the former in a way to suggest the
idea of offence, rather than of defence.--The streets in general are
Moorish in width, many of them positively not being more than eight or
ten feet in breadth. I had one or two encounters with donkeys loaded
with panniers, a passage being frequently quite a Scylla-and-Charybdis
matter. As the houses are six or seven stories high, it is like walking
in the fissures of a mountain to walk in these streets. Of course
carriages never attempt them. Still Genoa has many fine avenues besides
the Strada Balbi.
I saw more street devotion in Genoa than I had previously witnessed in
Italy, men on their knees in the streets being rather an unusual sight
in Florence. The gambols of the carnival were much as usual; though
Italian humour is both richer and stronger than that of France. This is
in favour of the people, and shows that they have had a place in the
world; for I take it the French are wanting in this peculiar quality of
the mind from the all-absorbing moral as well as political superiority
of the court.
The humour of France is nearly all military, as might be expected; and
in this they are unequalled.