the 3rd of July, we took a final leave of Florence. In the early part
of the day, before we began to ascend the Apennines, it was warm and
pleasant, but after we reached these more elevated regions, it became
so cold and cloudy, that we expected a fall of snow. In the afternoon
we quitted the Tuscan territory with little trouble, but on arriving
within the Roman states, were detained for some time, and all our baggage
examined and leaded: this they made us pay for; but it had the good
effect of enabling us to pass through Bologna, and out of the pope’s
territories, without farther interruption. We stopped for the night at
a solitary house in the Apennines, thirty-eight miles from Florence,
which as we had five successive days to travel, although our horses and
the roads were particularly good, was too long a day’s journey in so
mountainous a country.
At noon, on the following day, we reached Bologna, where two of our
passengers left us for Ferrara. Our remaining companions were an old
gentleman with a young wife, returning home to Piacenza; he was a captain
in the army of the Dutchess of Parma. Bologna impressed us as a dull,
although a fine, city. We ascended to the top of a brick tower, from
whence there is a commanding view of the country, with the Apennines
forming a fine bold feature on one side, and the plains of Lombardy on
the other. This tower, built by the family of Givelli, and said to be
three hundred and sixty-five feet in height, is mounted by a wooden
staircase of four hundred and fifty steps; the whole in so ruinous a
state, that it was scarcely safe to ascend it. One would almost wonder
that so large a structure should not have been thought worthy of a stone,
or even marble, staircase, in a country where the latter material is so
plentiful.
Within the entrance we found a shoemaker at work, who said he had the
care of the building; an office, however, of which it seemed difficult
to conceive the duties, unless, indeed, it was to prevent persons from
attempting to ascend the tower. We had not time to visit the churches and
paintings in this fine town.
On quitting Bologna, we travelled along a nearly level road shaded with
rows of trees, and which convinced us that we had entered upon the plains
of Lombardy.
In the evening, we arrived at Salmogie, a solitary house, where they
regaled us with an excellent supper and wines; amongst other dainties,
we were treated with Bologna sausages, and certainly thought them very
fine, although, in general, I am not partial to salmagundi messes. It
occurred to me, whether salmagundi might not be a corruption of the
name of this house, which is famous for these sausages, and which are
nothing more than salmagundi enclosed in a skin; great quantities of
them are purchased by travellers, as well as sent to Bologna, and other
neighbouring towns.
After leaving Salmogie, we passed from the popes territories into those
of the Duke of Modena. We only stopped at the city of Modena long enough
to shew them our passports and natural faces, nor did we purchase any
masks to conceal them in, notwithstanding the place is very famous for
the manufacture of such articles. We breakfasted at Reggio, after a
journey of twenty miles from Salmogie. This city was once of importance,
and still of considerable size, although it appeared partly deserted.
Towards noon, the weather gave indications of an approaching storm,
which came on shortly after three o’clock, with heavy rain, thunder, and
lightning; but it was not of long duration, and was succeeded by a very
fine evening.
At six o’clock, we entered the states of the unfortunate Maria Louisa,
dutchess of Parma, where the custom-house officers accepted a small fee,
to exempt us from the trouble of examining our baggage.
In little more than an hour after this, we arrived at the city of Parma,
where, during the preparation for our supper, we visited the cathedral,
at this time under repair; the evening was too far advanced to enable
my friend to see the paintings of the cupola executed by Correggio, who
was a native of this place; from thence, we bent our steps to the palace
of the dutchess, a large mean looking structure, with nothing like the
magnificence of a royal residence about it. It was much surpassed in
respectability of appearance by some of the neighbouring buildings. The
unhappy Maria Louisa had been a leading subject of our thoughts and
conversation since we left Florence, and every thing we are able to glean
from our companions, and other sources, contributed to inspire a more
than ordinary degree of sympathy and commiseration for her misfortunes.
The lines of Lord Byron did not fail to recur to our imagination.
“And she proud Austria’s mournful flower,
Thy still imperial bride,
How bears her breast the torturing hour?
Still clings she to thy side?
Must she too bend, must she too share
Thy late repentance, long despair,
Thou throneless Homicide!
If still she loves thee, hoard that gem,
’Tis worth thy vanish’d diadem!”
A gentleman of the dutchess’s household, a friend of our companions,
supped with us, and expressed himself in the highest terms respecting
her affability and kindness to her subjects, to whom she was in the
habit of giving balls twice every week. She has placed about her,
either as a _nurse_ or a keeper, an old Austrian general, who watches
all her movements. Had we arrived somewhat earlier, we should have had
the gratification of seeing, or, I should rather say, as relates to
myself, examining many of the presents made to her by Bonaparte; as,
for instance, her bed, the king of Rome’s cradle, and dressing-table;
jewellery, and various other articles.
Provisions are said to be good and cheap at Parma, which we had no reason
to call in question; we did not, however, much admire the cheese they
gave us, although that produced by this country is so celebrated amongst
all _gourmands_; possibly here, as in other places, the best is sent
abroad: the land is rich, and, without doubt, excellent cheese is made in
abundance from it.
Proceeding on our journey, we crossed the next day, at five miles from
Parma, the bed of the river Carro, now entirely destitute of water;
immediately above the place of passing, was a very fine bridge of twenty
arches, commenced under the auspices of Maria Louisa, and now nearly
completed. After breakfast, it turned out very cold and rainy: throughout
our progress over the plains of Lombardy, we had anticipated much
inconvenience from heat; we, however, found more reason to complain of
cold. We fancied the peasantry also in expectation of warmer weather, as
they were in general very lightly clad; the more common costume being
black small-clothes, without either shoes or stockings.
At an early hour, we arrived at Placentia, where our companion and his
lady left us, having arrived at their own residence; their characters
appeared to be of a negative kind: he, a quiet, good sort of an old
man; she, a pleasant and amiable young woman, sufficiently silent and
reserved, probably from the laudable motive of not wishing to give rise
to any unpleasant feeling in his mind; and, actuated by such motives,
they might be, and probably were, as happy as if no disparity of years
had existed: for it is in the qualities of the mind, and not of the
person, that conjugal felicity is dependant.
“It is the secret sympathy,
The silver link, the silken tie;
Which heart to heart, and mind to mind,
In body and in soul doth bind.”
We arrived at the inn amidst a heavy fall of rain, and every thing felt
cold and dismal; our horses and driver were apparently wearied out,
although we had only travelled thirty-two miles, and this over a good
level road.
Placentia, or Piacenza, is a fine city on the banks of the Po, but the
state of the weather prevented us from exploring it.
On the following morning, our driver did not call us until six o’clock,
and then it was accompanied by an intimation, that we should have
plenty of time to breakfast, whence we inferred, that he was looking
out for passengers to fill his now vacant places; but the real cause
soon appeared, for in an hour after he apprized us, with great concern,
that one of his horses was quite lame, and, totally unable to proceed;
but that he had found another voiture, which would carry us to Milan;
and for our fare in which, he would arrange with its driver, so that it
would make no manner of difference to us. We were glad to comply with
this proposal, although we regretted changing our driver, whom we had
found a very civil and attentive man: this inability to proceed, was,
undoubtedly, to be attributed to his having driven us too far on the
first day, in order to oblige two gentlemen of Ferrara, by getting on the
second day to Bologna for breakfast instead of supper.
Our new voiture was a much lighter carriage, than the one we had parted
from. Before we left the town, we took up an Italian lady and gentleman,
who proved very pleasant and respectable people:—the lady about
twenty-two, with a pair of such bewitching black eyes, that my friend C⸺
was scarcely able to sustain their glances. The gentleman, who appeared
to be her relative, was about thirty, and conversed in a very sensible,
but free manner, on the political state of his country, and patriotically
anticipated the time when she would be enabled to throw off the yoke
of foreign despotism, and assert her liberty and independence: we had,
however, only the pleasure of their company as far as Padoglia,—about ten
miles.
On leaving Placentia, we crossed the Po, on a bridge of pontoons. The
stream was rapid, and the breadth of the river much the same as that
of the Thames at London-bridge. We were strongly reminded of Addison’s
poetical description of this noble river, whose banks, both in ancient
and modern history, have been the scene of so many sanguinary contests.
“Fir’d with a thousand raptures, I survey
Eridanus, thro’ flowery meadows stray,
The king of floods! that, rolling o’er their plains,
The towering Alps of half their moisture drains,
And proudly swoll’n with a whole winter’s snows,
Distributes wealth and plenty where it flows.”
Soon after this we entered the Milanese territories, and were impressed
with the propriety of manner in which our baggage was inspected by the
Austrian troops; there was no disposition to neglect their public duty
for private interest, no sneaking after bribes; they maintained the
necessity of examination, but it was effected, without reward, in an
unvexatious manner, and with a proper consideration and respect for
the feelings of the proprietors. The only charge made was a regular
government fee for the attachment of stamped leads, to enable our luggage
to pass throughout all other stations belonging to this government
without farther interruption.
I am happy in being able to concur with a number of my countrymen,
in doing justice to the integrity of the Austrians in their various
transactions with English travellers: that the natives should inveigh
against them is not surprising; since it could scarcely be expected,
under their relative political situation, and amidst the great
distinction of character and habits, that the two nations should
assimilate cordially together. Although the Milanese now profess to
give the preference to the French government, the time was, during the
superior influence of that nation, that they were as averse to its
domination, as they are now to that of Austria. Such is the versatility
of human nature!
When we were within four miles of Lodi, one of the wheels of our
carriage flew off, in consequence of the linchpin becoming disengaged;
we spent some time in looking for it, but in vain, and were obliged to
substitute a piece of wood, which, however, carried us safely to Lodi. We
immediately, on our arrival, proceeded to visit the celebrated bridge,
immortalized by the victory of Bonaparte over the Austrians, and which
was mainly gained by his own bravery and personal exertions. We found
it nearly two miles distant from where our carriage stopped; but to have
left it unnoticed, would have been as unpardonable as to have gone to
Loretto, without seeing the _casa santa_ of the blessed Virgin.
I cannot do better than give the following concise account of this day,
so important to the destinies of the future ruler of France.
“Beaulieu had drawn up his forces behind the Adda, and fortified, with
thirty pieces of cannon, a long bridge, in front of which was the town
of Lodi, defended by his advanced posts: these Bonaparte attacked, and,
after a sharp contest, drove into the town; from whence they passed the
bridge, and joined the main body of their army. A battalion of French
grenadiers, who had hitherto borne down all before them, now reached
the bridge, shouting, “Vive la Republique,” but the dreadful fire kept
up by the enemy having stopped their progress, Generals Berthier,
Massena, Cervoni, &c. rushed forward: still, however, even their presence
might have proved ineffectual, if it had not been for the gallantry
of Bonaparte, who, snatching a standard from the hand of a subaltern,
placing himself in front, animating his soldiers by his actions and
gesticulations, for his voice was drowned by the noise of musquetry
and cannon; till these intrepid fellows, led on by their beloved
commander, passed the bridge, amidst showers of cannon balls, silencing
the artillery, and throwing the main body of Beaulieu’s army in such
disorder, that he fled with haste towards Mantua; having lost in this
action twenty field pieces, and in killed, wounded, and prisoners, above
two thousand men.”
Although pressed for time, we could not deny ourselves the pleasure of
passing over this renowned bridge; on arriving at the opposite side, we
had the additional gratification of meeting with a beautiful maid of
Lodi, at the wash-tub; and who appeared to interest my friend greatly,
although he remarked that he had already seen several handsome females at
Lodi.
After a hasty dinner at the Gambero, or sign of the Lobster, our
vittureno came to inform us, that he was unable to get his coach repaired
in time, but that another was waiting, which would take us on to Milan.
Thus we were transferred to a third coach; we had some suspicion that
this last was a convenient arrangement between the two drivers, to
enable the one who had brought us from Placentia to avoid going on with
two passengers only; while, at the same time, it gave the other a full
complement. However, we had no reason to complain, the road was good, and
our new driver ran us into Milan, a distance of twenty miles, in three
hours, and with a single pair of horses only.
CHAP. XXIV.
MILAN.
On arriving at Milan, we took up our residence at the Croci di Malta,
which is one of the most convenient houses in this place for foreigners,
as it has an excellent table d’hôte. The next day, Sunday, was
exceedingly cold, notwithstanding which, we commenced our examination of
this fine old city.
We first visited the magnificent cathedral, built entirely of white
marble; to the very top of which we ascended, by a flight of five hundred
and twelve steps. But it is better that I should borrow a description of
this most noble edifice, than attempt an imperfect one of my own.
“It is situated almost in the centre of the city, and occupies part of
the great square; it is of Gothic architecture, and its materials are
white marble. In magnitude, this edifice yields to few in the universe.
Inferior only to St. Peter’s of Rome; it equals in length, and in breadth
surpasses the cathedrals of Florence and St. Paul’s: in the interior
elevation, it yields to both; but in its exterior, it exceeds both; in
its fretwork, carving, and statues, it goes beyond all churches in the
world, St. Peter’s itself not even excepted. Its double aisles, its
lofty arches, the lustre of its walls, its numerous niches all filled
with marble figures, give it an appearance novel, even in Italy, and
singularly majestic. In the front of the chancel, and almost immediately
above the steps, rises on four additional steps the altar, and behind it
the choir, in a semicircular form. The pillars of the cathedral of Milan
are more than ninety feet in height, and about eighty in diameter. The
dimensions of the church at large are as follow: in length, four hundred
and ninety feet, in breadth, two hundred and ninety-eight, in interior
elevation under the dome, two hundred and fifty-eight, and four hundred
in exterior, that is, to the summit of the tower. The pavement is formed
of marble of different colours, disposed in various patterns and figures.
The number of niches are very great, and every niche has its statue,
which, together with those placed on the ballustrade of the roof, are
reported to amount to more than four thousand; and many among them are
said to be of great merit.
“Over the dome rises a tower or spire; in ascending this, the traveller
will observe that the roof of the church is covered with solid blocks
of marble, which are connected together by a powerful cement, which
possesses not only the durability and hardness, but the colour also of
the marble itself; so that the eye of the observer scarcely perceives
the points and lines in which the joinings are made, and the whole roof
appears to be composed of one immense sheet of the finest white, and
polished marble. The singularity and uncommon splendour of this roof,
cannot perhaps be adequately described. The prospect of the surrounding
country, and objects from the summit of this tower, is grand and very
extensive; it includes the whole city, and the luxuriant plain of
Milan; shews its intersection in every part, with rivers and canals,
its beautiful display of gardens, orchards, vineyards, and groves; and
its numerous and interesting villages and towns; and extends to the
neighbouring Alps, which unite their bleak ridges with the milder, and
more distant Appennines, and seem to compose a grand and natural frame,
to this picture of beauty and interest. In its materials, the cathedral
of Milan certainly surpasses all the churches in the universe, the
noblest of which are only lined and coated with marble, while this is
entirely built, paved, vaulted, and roofed, with the same substance, and
that of the whitest, and most resplendent kind.”
After examining the cathedral, we visited the gardens in the
neighbourhood of the Porta Orientale, where there are frequently dancing
and a variety of other entertainments, on a Sunday evening, but the day
was unfavourable for these diversions. From hence, we extended our walk
to Porta Roma along the new boulevards, formed by the Austrians within
the last two years, and which are become the fashionable promenade, and
drive, of Milan.
The next day was also an unpropitious one; indeed it appears, that the
neighbourhood of the Alps has a most unfavourable influence on the
climate; and in winter must make it extremely cold and damp. We visited
this morning the theatre of La Scala, at the time under repair. Walking
over the pit and stage, we took the opportunity of comparing its size,
with that of St. Carlos at Naples; at first my friend imagined it
smaller, but before we left, he was inclined to think the point doubtful;
but it must be recollected, that the estimate was made under very
different circumstances, the latter being lighted up and full of company,
while the present one was empty, and _en dishabille_.
We met with many friends at Milan, and spent our time agreeably enough,
but from circumstances, were induced to hasten our departure sooner
than we intended; in consequence we were prevented from visiting some
of the most interesting parts of the city, as the various churches, the
coliseum of Napoleon, and the triumphal arch, erected in honour of him,
over one of the gates; the lazaretto, the mint, the museum, the minor
theatres, and various other places. The city itself, is one of the most
intricate I ever met with, the streets so numerous, short, and narrow,
that we had never been more perplexed to find our way.
We were induced to leave Milan, as I before remarked, sooner than at
first intended; this was in consequence of the difficulty experienced in
procuring a satisfactory conveyance to Geneva.
We had flattered ourselves, that we could have made arrangements to
accompany some Swiss gentlemen in their voiture, which would have
afforded us an opportunity of gaining much agreeable information from
them, but in this we were disappointed. As a preparatory measure, a day
or two before we proposed to depart, we entered into various negotiations
with different vitturenos, all of which we were obliged to conduct with
the greatest caution, and which became abortive, from some determination
or other to impose upon us.
We had actually engaged one to convey us to Geneva, for a considerable
sum, under the full explanation of its being intended to cover the usual
expenses of supper, &c. but when he was desired to sign the agreement, he
pretended that these necessaries were not to be included.
At length, on Tuesday the 10th, we met a vittureno, who was departing
in the morning, with the intention of taking the route of Turin; when
viewing the little chance we had of getting any conveyance, which
would take the passage of the Simplon for some days, we determined to
embrace the opportunity, and immediately entered into an arrangement
with him, to convey us to Geneva, resting two days at Turin, bearing our
expenses for supper and beds each night, while actually travelling, for
which we agreed to pay him four Napoleons and a half each; this as the
journey would occupy nine days, we thought a reasonable bargain. The
expense of travelling is considered to increase on leaving Italy, and
passing through Switzerland, particularly by the way of the Simplon, in
consequence of the great number of barriers on that road; but I became
convinced from experience, that the real difference of expense, is
nothing equal to what the proprietors of the voitures would wish one
to suppose. The Swiss drivers appear far more acute than the French or
the Italians, for the cunning of the latter is easily detected; while
the manners of the former are more sagacious and collected. One in
particular, impressed me so strongly with his archness of expression,
that my imagination leads me to suppose, if my powers of sight would
admit of a use of the pencil, I could at this instant depict his
portrait, as correctly as if I had actually seen him.
CHAP. XXV.
JOURNEY FROM MILAN BY TURIN, AND OVER MOUNT CENIS TO GENEVA.
We left Milan on Tuesday, July the 11th, early in the morning of a very
fine day, in the largest, and most elegant voiture which I had met with
in France or Italy, having only two companions; one, a lady with her
lap-dog, who, although she was not very young, was witty and amusing; the
other, a singular character of a Frenchman, an ex-colonel of the army
of Bonaparte, and who amused us by his eccentricities. He had fought in
the battle of Waterloo, and afterwards, been deprived of his pension and
half pay, as well as for a time banished the kingdom. He had received
a variety of wounds in Egypt, and other parts of the world. My friend
informed me that his appearance was shabby, although he talked of having
a very rich wife at Lyons. According to his own account, he was at this
time carrying on, in a large way, the business of a horse-dealer; and
boasted of supplying various princes, and noblemen, with Arabian and
other fine horses. Soon after leaving Milan, we passed a voiture, from
the outside of which, a trunk had just been stolen. Fifteen miles from
Milan, we crossed the Tesseno, which cost us eight centimes per head.
This river takes its rise from Mount St. Gothard, and falls into the
Po. Soon afterwards, we entered the Piedmontese states, and after the
customary examinations, reached Novara for breakfast, having travelled
thirty-five miles from Milan. Novara is an ancient city, but of no
great note. After breakfast, we proceeded on our journey, and in the
afternoon, crossed two small rivers, where they took a toll, not only
for our carriage and horses, but ourselves also. About six o’clock, we
arrived at Verceil, a very ancient city, with narrow, ill-paved streets,
and a scanty population. A number of Austrian troops, who had occupied
Piedmont in support of the royalist party, were quartered at this place,
and sacrilegiously using the cathedral as stables. We understood that
all the principal towns, with the exception of Turin itself, probably in
consequence of a particular request, or as a point of delicacy, were at
this time under the charge of the Austrians.