visit to Vaucluse. We spent the morning under the trees which stand
before the door of the _cafe_ in the village square, and at noon we
took the steamboat upon the Rhone for _Arles_. An hour or two brought
us to this ancient town, where we were compelled to wait till the next
day, the larger boat which goes hence by the mouths of the Rhone to
Marseilles, being out of order.
We left our baggage in the boat, and I walked up with the captain to
see the town. An officer whom we addressed for information on the quay
politely offered to be our guide, and we passed three or four hours
rambling about, with great pleasure. Our first object was the Roman
ruins, for which the town is celebrated. We traversed several streets,
so narrow, that the old time-worn houses on either side seemed to
touch at the top, and in the midst of a desolate and poverty-stricken
neighborhood, we came suddenly upon a noble Roman amphitheatre of
gigantic dimensions, and sufficiently preserved to be a picturesque
ruin. It was built on the terrace of a hill, overlooking the Rhone.
From the towers of the gateway, the view across the river into the
lovely province of Languedoc, is very extensive. The arena is an
excavation of perhaps thirty feet in depth, and the rows of seats, all
built of vast blocks of stone, stretch round it in retreating and
rising platforms to the surface of the hill. The lower story is
surrounded with dens; and the upper terrace is enclosed with a circle
of small apartments, like boxes in a theatre, opening by handsome
arches upon the scene. It is the ruin of a noble structure, and, even
without the help of the imagination, exceedingly impressive. It seems
to be at present turned into a play-ground. The dens and cavities were
full of black-eyed and happy creatures, hiding and hallooing with all
the delightful spirit and gayety of French children. Probably it was
never appropriated to a better use.
We entered the cathedral in returning. It is an antique, and
considered a very fine one. The twilight was just falling; and the
candles burning upon the altar, had a faint, dull glare, making the
dimness of the air more perceptible. I walked up the long aisle to the
side chapel, without observing that my companions had left me, and,
quite tired with my walk, seated myself against one of the Gothic
pillars, enjoying the quiet of the place, and the momentary relief
from exciting objects. It struck me presently that there was a dead
silence in the church, and, as much to hear the sound of English as
for any better motive, I approached the priest's missal, which lay
open on a stand near me, and commenced translating a familiar psalm
aloud. My voice echoed through the building with a fullness which
startled me, and looking over my shoulder, I saw that a simple, poor
old woman was kneeling in the centre of the church, praying alone. She
had looked up at my interruption of the silence of the place, but her
beads still slipped slowly through her fingers, and, feeling that I
was intruding possibly between a sincere worshipper and her Maker, I
withdrew to the side aisle, and made my way softly out of the
cathedral.
Arles appears to have modernized less than any town I have seen in
France. The streets and the inhabitants look as if they had not
changed for a century. The dress of the women is very peculiar; the
waist of the gown coming up to a point behind, between the shoulder
blades, and consequently very short in front, and the high cap bound
to the head with broad velvet ribands, suffering nothing but the jet
black curls to escape over the forehead. As a class, they are the
handsomest women I have seen. Nothing could be prettier than the
small-featured lively brunettes we saw sitting on the stone benches at
every door.
We ran down the next morning, in a few hours to Marseilles. It was a
cloudy, misty day, and I did not enjoy, as I expected, the first view
of the Mediterranean from the mouths of the Rhone. We put quite out
into the swell of the sea, and the passengers were all strewn on the
deck in the various gradations of sickness. My friend the captain, and
myself, had the only constant stomachs on board. I was very happy to
distinguish Marseilles through the mist, and as we approached nearer,
the rocky harbor and the islands of _Chateau d'If_ and _Pomegue_, with
the fortress at the mouth of the harbor, came out gradually from the
mist, and the view opened to a noble amphitheatre of rocky mountains,
in whose bosom lies Marseilles at the edge of the sea. We ran into the
narrow cove which forms the inner harbor, passing an American ship,
the "William Penn," just arrived from Philadelphia, and lying in
quarantine. My blood started at the sight of the starred flag; and as
we passed closer and I read the name upon her stern, a thousand
recollections of that delightful city sprang to my heart, and I leaned
over to her from the boat's side, with a feeling of interest and
pleasure to which the foreign tongue that called me to bid adieu to
newer friends, seemed an unwelcome interruption.
I parted from my pleasant Parisian friend and his family, however,
with real regret. They were polite and refined, and had given me their
intimacy voluntarily and without reserve. I shook hands with them on
the quay, and wished the pale and quiet invalid better health, with
more of feeling than is common with acquaintances of a day. I believe
them kind and sincere, and I have not found these qualities growing so
thickly in the world that I can thrust aside anything that resembles
them, with a willing mistrust.
The quay of Marseilles is one of the most varied scenes to be met with
in Europe. Vessels of all nations come trading to its port, and nearly
every costume in the world may be seen in its busy crowds. I was
surprised at the number of Greeks. Their picturesque dresses and dark
fine faces meet you at every step, and it would be difficult, if it
were not for the shrinking eye, to believe them capable of an ignoble
thought. The mould of the race is one for heroes, but if all that is
said of them be true, the blood has become impure. Of the two or three
hundred I must have seen at Marseilles, I scarce remember one whose
countenance would not have been thought remarkable.
* * * * *
I have remained six days in Marseilles by the advice of the Sardinian
consul, who assured me that so long a residence in the south of
France, is necessary to escape quarantine for the cholera, at the
ports or on the frontiers of Italy. I have obtained his certificate
to-day, and depart to-morrow for Nice. My forced _sejour_ here has
been far from an amusing or a willing one. The "_mistral_" has blown
chilly and with suffocating dryness, so that I have scarce breathed
freely since I entered the town, and the streets, though handsomely
laid out and built, are intolerable from the dust. The sun scorches
your skin to a blister, and the wind chills your blood to the bone.
There are beautiful public walks, which, at the more moist seasons,
must be delightful, but at present the leaves on the trees are all
white, and you cannot keep your eyes open long enough to see from one
end of the promenade to the other. Within doors, it is true, I have
found everything which could compensate for such evils; and I shall
carry away pleasant recollections of the hospitality of the Messrs.
Fitch, and others of my countrymen, living here--gentlemen whose
courtesies are well-remembered by every American traveller through the
south of France.
* * * * *
I sank into the corner of the _coupe_ of the diligence for Toulon, at
nine o'clock in the evening, and awoke with the gray of the dawn at
the entrance of the pass of _Ollioules_, one of the wildest defiles I
ever saw. The gorge is the bed of a winter torrent, and you travel
three miles or more between two mountains seemingly cleft asunder, on
a road cut out a little above the stream, with naked rock to the
height of two or three hundred feet almost perpendicularly above you.
Nothing could be more bare and desolate than the whole pass, and
nothing could be richer or more delightfully cultivated than the low
valleys upon which it opens. It is some four or five miles hence to
Toulon, and we traversed the road by sunrise, the soft, gray light
creeping through the olive and orange trees with which the fields are
laden, and the peasants just coming out to their early labor. You see
no brute animal here except the mule; and every countryman you meet is
accompanied by one of these serviceable little creatures, often quite
hidden from sight by the enormous load he carries, or pacing patiently
along with a master on his back, who is by far the larger of the two.
The vineyards begin to look delightfully; for the thick black stump
which was visible over the fields I have hitherto passed, is in these
warm valleys covered already with masses of luxuriant vine leaves, and
the hill sides are lovely with the light and tender verdure. I saw
here for the first time, the olive and date trees in perfection. They
grow in vast orchards planted regularly, and the olive resembles
closely the willow, and reaches about the same height and shape. The
leaves are as slender but not quite so long, and the color is more
dusky, like the bloom upon a grape. Indeed, at a short distance, the
whole tree looks like a mass of untouched fruit.
I was agreeably disappointed in Toulon. It is a rural town with a
harbor--not the dirty seaport one naturally expects to find it. The
streets are the cleanest I have seen in France, some of them lined
with trees, and the fountains all over it freshen the eye
delightfully. We had an hour to spare, and with Mr. Doyle, an Irish
gentleman, who had been my travelling companion, since I parted with
my friend the Swiss, I made the circuit of the quays. They were
covered with French naval officers and soldiers, promenading and
conversing in the lively manner of this gayest of nations. A handsome
child, of perhaps six years, was selling roses at one of the corners,
and for a _sous_, all she demanded, I bought six of the most superb
damask buds just breaking into flower. They were the first I had seen
from the open air since I left America, and I have not often purchased
so much pleasure with a copper coin.
Toulon was interesting to me as the place where Napoleon's career
began. The fortifications are very imposing. We passed out of the town
over the draw-bridge, and were again in the midst of a lovely
landscape, with an air of bland and exhilarating softness, and
everything that could delight the eye. The road runs along the shore
of the Mediterranean, and the fields are green to the water edge.
We arrived at Antibes to-day at noon, within fifteen miles of the
frontier of Sardinia. We have run through most of the south of France,
and have found it all like a garden. The thing most like it in our
country is the neighborhood of Boston, particularly the undulated
country about Brookline and Dorchester. Remove all the stone fences
from that sweet country, put here and there an old chateau on an
eminence, and change the pretty white mock cottages of gentlemen, for
the real stone cottages of peasantry, and you have a fair picture of
the scenery of this celebrated shore. The Mediterranean should be
added as a distance, with its exquisite blue, equalled by nothing but
an American sky in a July noon--its crowds of sail, of every shape and
nation, and the Alps in the horizon crested with snow, like clouds
half touched by the sun. It is really a delicious climate. Out of the
scorching sun the air is bracing and cool; and though my ears have
been blistered in walking up the hills in a travelling cap, I have
scarcely experienced an uncomfortable sensation of heat, and this in
my winter dress, with flannels and a surtout, as I have worn them for
the six months past in Paris. The air could not be tempered more
accurately for enjoyment. I regret to go in doors. I regret to sleep
it away.
* * * * *
_Antibes_ was fortified by the celebrated _Vauban_, and it looks
impregnable enough to my unscientific eye. If the portcullises were
drawn up, I would not undertake to get into the town with the full
consent of the inhabitants. We walked around the ramparts which are
washed by the Mediterranean, and got an appetite in the sea-breeze,
which we would willingly have dispensed with. I dislike to abuse
people, but I must say that the _cuisine_ of Madame Agarra, at the
"Gold Eagle," is rather the worst I have fallen upon in my travels.
Her price, as is usual in France, was proportionably exorbitant. My
Irish friend, who is one of the most religious gentlemen of his
country I ever met, came as near getting into a passion with his
supper and bill, as was possible for a temper so well disciplined. For
myself, having acquired only polite French, I can but "look daggers"
when I am abused. We depart presently for _Nice_, in a ricketty
barouche, with post-horses, the _courier_, or post-coach, going no
farther. It is a roomy old affair, that has had pretensions to style
some time since Henri Quatre, but the arms on its panels are illegible
now, and the ambitious driving-box is occupied by the humble materials
to remedy a probable break-down by the way. The postillion is cracking
his whip impatiently, my friend has called me twice, and I must put up
my pencil.
_Antibes_ again! We have returned here after an unsuccessful attempt
to enter the Sardinian dominions. We were on the road by ten in the
morning, and drove slowly along the shores of the Mediterranean,
enjoying to the utmost the heavenly weather and the glorious scenery
about us. The driver pointed out to us a few miles from Antibes, the
very spot on which Napoleon landed on his return from Elba, and the
tree, a fine old olive, under which he slept three hours, before
commencing his march. We arrived at the _Pont de Var_ about one, and
crossed the river, but here we were met by a guard of Sardinian
soldiers, and our passports were demanded. The commissary came from
the guard-house with a long pair of tongs, and receiving them open,
read them at the longest possible distance. They were then handed back
to us in the same manner, and we were told we could not pass. We then
handed him our certificates of quarantine at Marseilles; but were told
it availed nothing, a new order having arrived from Turin that very
morning, to admit no travellers from infected or suspected places
across the frontier. We asked if there were no means by which we could
pass; but the commissary only shook his head, ordered us not to
dismount on the Sardinian side of the river, and shut his door. We
turned about and recrossed the bridge in some perplexity. The French
commissary at St. Laurent, the opposite village, received us with a
suppressed smile, and informed us that several parties of travellers,
among others an English gentleman and his wife and sister, were at the
_auberge_, waiting for an answer from the Prefect of Nice, having been
turned back in the same manner since morning. We drove up, and they
advised us to send our passports by the postillion, with a letter to
the consuls of our respective nations, requesting information, which
we did immediately.
Nice is three miles from St. Laurent, and as we could not expect an
answer for several hours, we amused ourselves with a stroll along the
banks of the Var to the Mediterranean. The Sardinian side is bold,
and wooded to the tops of the hills very richly. We kept along a mile
or more through the vineyards, and returned in time to receive a
letter from the American consul, confirming the orders of the
commissary, but advising us to return to Antibes, and sail thence for
Villa Franca, a lazaretto in the neighborhood of Nice, whence we could
enter Italy, after _seven days quarantine_! By this time several
travelling-carriages had collected, and all, profiting by our
experience, turned back together. We are now at the "Gold Eagle,"
deliberating. Some have determined to give up their object altogether,
but the rest of us sail to-morrow morning in a fishing-boat for the
lazaretto.
* * * * *
LAZARETTO, VILLA FRANCA.--There were but eight of the twenty or thirty
travellers stopped at the bridge who thought it worth while to
persevere. We are all here in this pest-house, and a motley mixture of
nations it is. There are two young Sicilians returning from college to
Messina; a Belgian lad of seventeen, just started on his travels; two
aristocratic young Frenchmen, very elegant and very ignorant of the
world, running down to Italy in their own carriage, to avoid the
cholera; a middle-aged surgeon in the British navy, very cool and very
gentlemanly; a vulgar Marseilles trader, and myself.
We were from seven in the morning till two, getting away from Antibes.
Our difficulties during the whole day are such a practical comparison
of the freedom of European states and ours, that I may as well detail
them.
First of all, our passports were to be vised by the police. We were
compelled to stand an hour with our hats off, in a close, dirty
office, waiting our turn for this favor. The next thing was to get the
permission of the prefect of the _marine_ to embark; and this occupied
another hour. Thence we were taken to the health-office, where a _bill
of health_ was made out for eight persons _going to a lazaretto_! The
padrone's freight duties were then to be settled, and we went back and
forth between the Sardinian consul and the French, disputing these for
another hour or more. Our baggage was piled upon the _charrette_, at
last, to be taken to the boat. The quay is outside the gate, and here
are stationed the _douanes_, or custom-officers, who ordered our
trunks to be taken from the cart, and searched them from top to
bottom. After a half hour spent in repacking our effects in the open
street, amid a crowd of idle spectators, we were suffered to proceed.
Almost all these various gentlemen expect a fee, and some demand a
heavy one; and all this trouble and expense of time and money to make
a voyage of _fifteen miles in a fishing-boat_!
We hoisted the fisherman's latteen sail, and put out of the little
harbor in very bad temper. The wind was fair, and we ran along the
shore for a couple of hours, till we came to Nice, where we were to
stop for permission to go to the lazaretto. We were hailed, off the
mole, with a trumpet, and suffered to pass. Doubling a little point,
half a mile farther on, we ran into the bay of Villa Franca, a handful
of houses at the base of an amphitheatre of mountains. A little round
tower stood in the centre of the harbor, built upon a rock, and
connected with the town by a draw-bridge, and we were landed at a
staircase outside, by which we mounted to show our papers to the
health-officer. The interior was a little circular yard, separated
from an office on the town side by an iron grating, and looking out on
the sea by two embrasures for cannon. Two strips of water and the sky
above was our whole prospect for the hour that we waited here. The
cause of the delay was presently explained by clouds of smoke issuing
from the interior. The tower filled, and a more nauseating odor I
never inhaled. We were near suffocating with the intolerable smell,
and the quantity of smoke deemed necessary to secure his majesty's
officers against contagion.
A cautious-looking old gentleman, with gray hair, emerged at last from
the smoke, with a long cane-pole in his hand, and, coughing at every
syllable, requested us to insert our passports in the split at the
extremity, which he thrust through the gate. This being done, we asked
him for bread. We had breakfasted at seven, and it was now
sundown--near twelve hours fast. Several of my companions had been
seasick with the swell of the Mediterranean, in coming from Antibes,
and all were faint with hunger and exhaustion. For myself, the
villainous smell of our purification had made me sick, and I had no
appetite; but the rest ate very voraciously of a loaf of coarse bread,
which was extended to us with a tongs and two pieces of paper.
After reading our passports, the magistrate informed us that he had no
orders to admit us to the lazaretto, and we must lie in our boat till
he could send a messenger to Nice with our passports and obtain
permission. We opened upon him, however, with such a flood of
remonstrance, and with such an emphasis from hunger and fatigue, that
he consented to admit us temporarily on his own responsibility, and
gave the boatmen orders to row back to a long, low stone building,
which we had observed at the foot of a precipice at the entrance to
the harbor.
He was there before us, and as we mounted the stone ladder he pointed
through the bars of a large inner gate to a single chamber, separated
from the rest of the building, and promising to send us something to
eat in the course of the evening, left us to take possession. Our
position was desolate enough. The building was new, and the plaster
still soft and wet. There was not an article of furniture in the
chamber, and but a single window; the floor was of brick, and the air
as damp within as a cellar. The alternative was to remain out of
doors, in the small yard, walled up thirty feet on three sides, and
washed by the sea on the other; and here, on a long block of granite,
the softest thing I could find, I determined to make an _al fresco_
night of it.
Bread, cheese, wine, and cold meat, seethed, Italian fashion, in
nauseous oil, arrived about nine o'clock; and, by the light of a
candle standing in a boot, we sat around on the brick floor, and
supped very merrily. Hunger had brought even our two French exquisites
to their fare, and they ate well. The navy surgeon had seen service,
and had no qualms; the Sicilians were from a German university, and
were not delicate; the Marseilles trader knew no better; and we should
have been less contented with a better meal. It was superfluous to
abuse it.
A steep precipice hangs immediately over the lazaretto, and the horn
of the half moon was just dipping below it, as I stretched myself to
sleep. With a folded coat under me, and a carpet-bag for a pillow, I
soon fell asleep, and slept soundly till sunrise. My companions had
chosen shelter, but all were happy to be early risers. We mounted our
wall upon the sea, and promenaded till the sun was broadly up, and
the breeze from the Mediterranean sharpened our appetites, and then
finishing the relics of our supper, we waited with what patience we
might the appearance of our breakfast.
* * * * *
The magistrate arrived at twelve, yesterday, with a commissary from
Villa Franca, who is to be our victualler during the quarantine. He
has enlarged our limits, by a stone staircase and an immense chamber,
on condition that we pay for an extra guard, in the shape of a
Sardinian soldier, who is to sleep in our room, and eat at our table.
By the way, we _have_ a table, and four rough benches, and these, with
three single mattresses, are all the furniture we can procure. We are
compelled to sleep _across_ the latter of course, to give every one
his share.