several rivers, with good modern bridges over them. Whenever we
inquired how they came by such fine roads and bridges, the reply always
attributed them to Bonaparte, so that if he had robbed their churches and
monasteries, he had left them many a recompense; and they were willing
to admit, that he usefully employed the poor in improving their country,
and liberally patronized the arts.
Between seven and eight in the evening, we entered Turin, and in the
morning directed our first attention to getting our passports properly
arranged for our future journey; with this view we attended the police;
and afterwards the Sardinian minister, where they demanded four francs
from each of us for his signature. After this we walked about the town,
where my friend expressed himself uncommonly pleased with the grandeur,
beauty, and regularity of the buildings, streets, squares, and shops.
The inhabitants generally addressed us in French, which gave us much the
impression of a French town. After dinner we visited the queen’s villa,
situated on the top of a hill, half a mile out of the town, in our way
to which we crossed the Po (which has its source twenty-five miles above
Turin, in the recesses of Monte Viso), over a magnificent bridge of five
arches, built by the French, the approach to which was through a noble
street, bearing the name of the river, with arcades on either side of
it. The villa possesses a most commanding view of the city, river, and
country around it, but contains nothing particularly good, except that
the gardens are well laid out. After this we returned to the city,
and promenaded the bank of the river, but were obliged to desist from
extending our ramble by the coming on of a rainy evening. After breakfast
the next day, we renewed our examination of the city, visiting the
boulevards, and other parts, but were again compelled to return by the
weather. On this account we took shelter in a caffé, where we observed in
the papers, the first official account of the death of Napoleon, a rumour
of which had reached us before we left Florence.
“If thou had’st died as honour dies,
Some new Napoleon might arise
To shame the world again—
But who would soar the solar height,
To set in such a starless night?”
It continued raining the remainder of the day, and we employed ourselves
in writing letters, and making preparations for our departure on the
morrow, being obliged to forego visiting the churches, palaces, theatres,
and other interesting objects of the place. It is true, we looked into
two or three churches, but they seemed to possess nothing out of the
ordinary way. The streets of Turin, particularly the new part, being
laid out at right angles, makes it easy to traverse the town; we could
not but notice the thinness of population, notwithstanding we knew the
city was proportionally thickly inhabited—this was no doubt to be partly
accounted for, from numbers having, during the summer season, retired
to their country-seats, and partly to the late political occurrences,
which have created a great distrust, and suspicion of those who remained,
many of whom were at this time apprehensive of arrest and imprisonment,
on account of their conduct or opinions, so that they were afraid to
stir from out of their houses—nay, many had actually absconded on these
accounts. But I do not profess to detail the political history of the
countries I visited.
On Sunday, the 15th of July, we took our leave of Turin, with six new
passengers in our voiture. We passed through Rivoli, which has a royal
palace, to Ambrogia, where we breakfasted; we now entered defiles of
mountains, the road becoming heavy; the rain, however, which had been
before incessant through the morning, began to clear off, and we had a
fine afternoon, which in some respects compensated for the badness of the
roads. A new road from Turin to Susa, has lately been laid out by the
Sardinian government, part of which we traversed, but found it at present
very uncomfortable, consisting of a mere bed of stones. We reached Susa,
about seven o’clock, an ancient town, situated amidst rocky eminences,
on the banks of the Dura, here a small stream, but before it reaches
Turin, increased into a considerable river.
The town of Susa is more respectable than we had expected to find it, but
thinly inhabited, as notwithstanding it was a fine Sunday’s evening, very
few people were walking about. My friend remarked, both here and in the
places we had passed through this day, that the men were of diminutive
stature, and ludicrously dressed, wearing cocked-hats, very long tails,
and black breeches, and frequently without either shoes or stockings.
In the morning we set out from Susa at three o’clock, with the voiture
drawn by five mules, our driver reserving his horses until we had
ascended Mount Cenis. Soon after leaving Susa, we travelled over an
alternation of moderate acclivity and level ground, until we passed
Novalese, when the road became steep, notwithstanding it was sound
and good, and occasionally took a winding direction to diminish the
labour of ascent. About half-way up, we passed a miserable village,
named Ferrieres. At this point we rested a while, that my friend might
contemplate the stupendous and sublime scenery, amidst which we had been
for some time making our progress.
“⸺pleas’d at first, the towering Alps we try,
Mount o’er the vales, and seem to tread the sky,
Th’ eternal snows appear already past,
And the first clouds and mountains seem the last,
But those attain’d, we tremble to survey
The growing labours of the lengthened way,
Th’ increasing prospect tires our wand’ring eyes,
Hills peep o’er hills, and alps on alps arise.”
From hence to the summit, we observed several detached habitations at
short distances from each other, intended for the residences of the
people stationed here by government, to keep open the road during the
winter, by clearing away the falls of snow, and rocks which might shelve
down from the surrounding mountains; or to give shelter to the way-worn
or benighted traveller. These men are thought to be well paid, receiving
three francs a day, but they fully deserve it, for their situation is, in
my opinion, most unenviable.
My friend observed a gallery cut out of the solid rock, which had
formerly been used as a road, but which from apprehension of danger in
that direction, had fallen into disuse.
At the top of this mountain is situated a plain termed San Nicolo, a
stone terminus placed on which, by its inscription, informs the traveller
that he is now quitting Italy, and entering Savoy. Then farewell Italy!
we exclaimed;—but I shall leave to the reader’s imagination, the feelings
with which we quitted this highly favoured country; nor shall I, for
good reasons, attempt to depict the magnificent scene which is to be
witnessed from this commanding elevation of six thousand feet above the
level of the sea, over the beautiful plains of Piedmont in the distance,
with the sublime Alpine features, which were extended around us, and
beneath our feet; but in lieu of this, I shall beg leave to introduce
the spirited description of Lord Byron, in his translation of Dante’s
prophecy.
“Thou, Italy! so fair, that Paradise,
Revived in thee, blooms forth to man restored;
Ah! must the sons of Adam lose it twice?
Thou, Italy I whose ever-golden fields,
Plough’d by the sunbeams solely, would suffice
For the world’s granary; thou, whose sky heaven gilds
With brighter stars, and robes with deeper blue;
Thou, in whose pleasant places summer builds
Her palace, in whose cradle empire grew,
And form’d the eternal city’s ornaments
From spoils of kings whom freemen overthrew;
Birth-place of heroes, sanctuary of saints,
Where, earthly first, then heavenly glory made
Her home; thou, all which fondest fancy paints,
And finds her prior vision but pourtray’d
In feeble colours, when the eye—from the Alp
Of horrid snow, rock, and shaggy shade
Of desert-loving pine, whose emerald scalp
Nods to the storm—dilates, and dotes o’er thee.”
We found the air on Mount Cenis particularly keen, and it failed not to
produce a corresponding effect upon our appetites, nor was this to be
wondered at, as we had now been travelling seven hours without breakfast.
Our driver was, however, quite unwilling to indulge us with a quarter of
an hour for the purpose of quieting these sensations; nor did we carry
the point, until we insisted upon it peremptorily. After all, we could
only get a hasty repast of tea and bread and butter; whereas we were
strongly tempted by some beautiful trout, which had just arrived from
out of a neighbouring lake of considerable size and unfathomable depth,
situated in the centre of the plain.
The plain of San Nicolo is about six miles in length, and four broad; and
notwithstanding its great elevation, was at this time free from snow, and
covered with flowers and verdure. It is encompassed on all sides by the
Alpine ridges, the highest of which rises three thousand feet still above
it, and is clothed with eternal snow. It was from the top of this plain
that Hannibal is said to have pointed out the rich fields of Italy to his
wearied army.
At the distance of about a mile from the inn where we had taken
refreshment, we arrived at a fort, within the walls of which stands the
convent of Saint Bernard. We were detained here to have our passports
examined. On the plain a considerable quantity of stone was lying on the
road side, which was white as snow; my companions fancied it marble; it
felt, however, to me of closer texture, and both heavier and harder than
any marble I had ever met with; I carried off a piece, as a specimen,
which proves to be a peculiarly hard sulphate of lime.
At length we began to descend the north side of the mountain, and at the
foot of it entered the town of Lanslebourg, where we had our regular
breakfast. At this place our party were imposed upon by an old woman, who
pretended to be a hundred and seven years of age, and which she professed
to prove by a certificate of her grandmother’s baptism, which she passed
off as her own; before we left, our landlady exposed the imposition,
informing us, that she obtrudes this certificate upon all travellers who
pass that way.
The road, this afternoon, was hilly, narrow, and rough; we made, however,
only a short stage, stopping to sleep at Modane. The inn at this place
was full of Sardinian troops, on which account we took the precaution to
have our baggage removed into our bed-rooms, for my friend C⸺ had the
cord whipped from off his trunk before he could look around him. We found
a peculiar difficulty in explaining our wishes to have this arrangement
effected, to the female who waited upon us; my friend, who was a very
superior linguist, essayed in vain to make her comprehend our intentions,
until at length we discovered that she was both deaf and dumb; she
possessed, however, extraordinary acuteness, and could be made to
understand almost any thing by signs; she afterwards waited upon us well
at supper, and in conveying our luggage to the coach on the following
morning.
We breakfasted the next day at St. Jean de Maurienne, a small town, with
narrow streets, situated in the middle of the Alps. On our way from hence
to Aigue Bella, where we rested for the night, we passed an unfinished
fort, which his Sardinian majesty is by treaty compelled to erect at this
spot.
Wednesday the 18th was a fine warm day. We breakfasted at Montmelian,
famous for its wines, both white and red, and particularly the latter.
Since descending Mount Cenis, the roads have been very indifferent, but
the country highly romantic; to-day we passed a number of waterfalls,
and repeatedly crossed the river R⸺; at half after one we arrived at
Chambery, the capital of Savoy, where we dined, and staid all night. This
town is delightfully situated, and has many pleasant walks about it; the
streets are, however, narrow, and the pavements bad. We were informed
that it abounded with the necessaries of life, which were to be purchased
at a reasonable rate. The whole of our journey from Mount Cenis had
impressed us with the feeling of being in France, as we heard nothing but
that language, and the patois of the country.
Our companions from Turin all quitted us at Chambery; but in the morning
we took up two young gentlemen from Lyons, who were going to the baths of
Aix; one of them, however, when we had proceeded five miles, found out
that he had left his portmanteau behind him at Chambery, and returned to
look after it.
We arrived at Aix les Baignes for breakfast, after which we took a
cursory view of the town and baths, which were built by the Emperor
Gratian, and with both of which we were much pleased. I attempted in
vain, to ascertain the nature of the waters; they referred me to a
book-seller, who shewed me a treatise in praise of their virtues, but all
the information I could gain respecting the point in question, was, that
they contained sulphur; which we had previously detected by the test of
our noses.
After leaving Aix, we proceeded to Ramilly; about midway between these
places is a waterfall on the right, but at a distance from the road,
which is visited by most of the strangers who take the waters at Aix.
In the evening we reached Frangy, where, notwithstanding we had travelled
by ourselves in the voiture, we were not without a supper party, for we
were favoured with the company of no less than four vitturenos. They were
so far pleasant company, that they treated us with respect, and amused us
with their conversation respecting the number of their passengers, fares,
&c.
On Friday, the 20th of July, we set off in great spirits, in the prospect
of reaching Geneva for breakfast; soon after leaving Frangy, which lies
in a deep galley, we began to ascend a steep mountain, the top of which,
it took us four hours to arrive at; this accomplished, we descended
again, and shortly afterwards entered Switzerland, that country—
“Where rougher climes a nobler race display;
Where the bleak Swiss their stormy mansion tread,
And force a churlish soil for scanty bread.”
At eleven o’clock we made our entry into the city of Geneva.
CHAP. XXVI.
GENEVA.—LAUSANNE.
On arriving at Geneva, we took up our residence at the Hotel de Corona,
and discharged our vittureno, a little dark-looking Savoyard, but with a
great oddity of temper, being either in the extreme of sulkiness, or good
humour; he was, however, so quietly disposed, that he slept the greater
part of the way, either on his horses or in the cabriolet. The manner
in which he took his leave of us was singular enough; after inquiring
whether we were satisfied with his attentions, and being answered in the
affirmative, he proceeded to say that he did not ask for a buona-mana, as
he knew such a donative was excluded by our agreement, but that he hoped
we would give something, no matter whether a franc or a Napoleon, to
_prove_ that we were satisfied with him.
When at Edinburgh, I had formed an acquaintance with a gentleman of this
place, Dr. P⸺; one of my first objects was to find him out, and I had
the pleasure of succeeding: after expressing much surprise, he kindly
offered me his services during our stay at Geneva.
The short time we remained at this interesting place, made it impossible
that we could enjoy all the gratifications which it was capable of
affording; we determined, however, to make the most of the little time
which we could afford.
Amongst the incidents which I reflect upon with the greatest pleasure, I
must place the very interesting visit we paid to M. Huber, so well known
in the literary world for his acute observations in Natural History, and,
particularly, his patient and extraordinary investigation of the habits
and economy of that valuable insect, the common honey-gathering bee.
There existed a sympathy and fellow-feeling, between this amiable man
and myself, of no common kind, for we had both of us long been excluded
from all enjoyment of the “visual ray;” forty years before, and in the
prime of life, M. Huber had the misfortune to lose his sight. Besides
his superior acquaintance with natural history, M. Huber is a deep
mathematician, and accomplished musician.
Before the present personal introduction, we were, however, not entirely
unknown to each other, as through the medium of Dr. P⸺, when at
Edinburgh, we had exchanged mutual compliments.
At this time he was residing at his country house, about a mile and a
half from Geneva. We here found him walking alone in his garden, for
which purpose, he has a string extended along a particular walk, which
assists in guiding his steps with confidence, when engaged in deep mental
research.
But, notwithstanding the public and literary character of M. Huber is
so highly estimated, it is in the bosom of his family that his worth
is most to be appreciated: his integrity, benevolence, and urbanity,
have secured the respect and affection of all around him. He has been
particularly fortunate in the companion of his domestic happiness. We
had the pleasure of being introduced to Madame H⸺, the following traits
of whose character cannot fail to do her the highest honour. M. H⸺ and
herself had formed an attachment for each other, before his loss of
sight; after this misfortune, her friends urged her to think no more of
him; but neither her affection nor magnanimity would allow her to desert
in adversity that being whom she had loved in prosperity; they were
married, and she has had the exalted gratification of having bestowed a
comfortable independence upon a worthy man, with whom she has now most
happily descended far into the vale of life.
One of the sons of M. H⸺, emulating the literary character of his father,
has distinguished himself by an Essay on the Economy of the Ant; a work
which has been thought worthy of translation into foreign languages.
M. Huber’s reception of me was cordial and flattering; and, after too
short a visit for the full gratification of my feelings, I was obliged
to tear myself away, impressed with indelible sentiments of respect and
veneration for this truly amiable man, and indefatigable philosopher.
The town of Geneva, which contains twenty-three thousand inhabitants, is
by no means highly impressive in its appearance and buildings; it derives
its interest, chiefly, from the beauty and grandeur of the surrounding
scenery, and the energies of its inhabitants, having been the favoured
residence of some of the most celebrated characters that have existed.
The inhabitants are, almost to an individual, possessed of superior
intellectual powers; no doubt the result of the extended system of
education which prevails, and which is supported by various charities,
both public and private, so that the poorest native has opportunities of
acquiring, what may almost be termed, a liberal education. I could not be
otherwise than forcibly impressed, with the similarity of character and
pursuits, between the inhabitants of this town and those of Edinburgh.
There is a celebrated academy at Geneva, which possesses twelve
professors, and no less than six hundred students, and is adorned by an
immense and valuable library, to which the pupils have free access.
The female part of the community also shew a superiority of intellect, of
which I experienced various instances. We found the ladies whom we had
the pleasure of being acquainted with, almost universally well versed in
polite literature, and frequently acquainted with the English and German
languages. I was much amused with the acuteness displayed by the young
woman of a shop, which I entered to purchase a straw hat; and which was,
at the same time, combined with great simplicity and _naiveté_. I can
scarcely express the quickness and readiness of manner with which she
attended to my wants, and the determination she shewed that I should be
suited. She was both young and pretty, and I could not forbear venturing
an inquiry, whether she was married, by asking her, if I was correct in
addressing her as _Mademoiselle_, to which she frankly replied, with
an air of evident satisfaction, almost amounting to exultation, “_Non
Monsieur, Je ne suis pas marié encore, mais je serai dans un mois._” And
I believe the favoured swain was not far distant, for my friend observed
a handsome young man on the _qui vive_ about the door, with his eyes
frequently directed towards her.
On Sunday, we were favoured with an invitation to breakfast with Dr.
P⸺, whose father is a banker of this city; our entertainment was of a
splendid kind, _à la fourchette_. Breakfast being concluded, we left the
ladies, and went to hear divine service, with the manner of performing
which we were highly pleased. After this we walked upon the ramparts.
Geneva, however, is only partially fortified, and not capable of
sustaining an energetic siege; as it was found, in the revolutionary war,
to be commanded by the high grounds around it.
The town, as is well known, is situated on the banks of the Rhone, and
near to the magnificent lake which now bears its name. It was formerly
termed Lake Leman, or Lacus Lemanus, and is formed by the waters of
the Rhone, which discharge themselves into this expanded form near
Villeneuve; it is said to lie eleven or twelve hundred feet above the
level of the sea, surrounded by the Alps; amongst which Mont Blanc, with
its two remarkable ridges on each side, or _epaules_ as they are termed,
towers conspicuously.
At length we were compelled, with much reluctance, to prosecute our
journey. We had hoped to have found conveyances to Lausanne by water,
along the beautiful lake, but were disappointed, as the passage is
considered dangerous, in consequence of the sudden gusts of wind which
come down the valleys. The only vessels which are used on the lake, are
for the purposes of fishing and conveying wood, &c. I suggested the
advantages of the steam-boat, which the smoothness of the water seemed
particularly adapted for; but it was objected that the intercourse
between the two places, was not sufficient to compensate the measure.
They seemed unaware that the establishment of such a conveyance, would be
the means of forming the necessary intercourse. In short the Swiss have
not the principles of a maritime nation amongst them.
We engaged our places for Lausanne in the post diligence, which cost us
each five francs Swiss, equal to seven francs and a half French; before,
however, we entered the coach, they made an additional and heavy charge
for the baggage, which, after in vain remonstrating against, we were
compelled to pay. We might have travelled to Lausanne, not only without
this expense, but even for a minor fare, had we looked out for one of the
voitures which are constantly running between these places.
We left Geneva, in company with three ladies, one of whom was of a
_certain_ age, and appeared to have the other two, who were much younger,
under her protection; the elder of the young ladies spoke English
fluently, and undoubtedly had had a superior education; the youngest,
who was more reserved, was a languishing beauty, with a pair of such
expressive and brilliant black eyes, that my friend, who unfortunately
sat directly opposed to their effects, was completely dazzled and
confused. I was myself unfortunately unconscious of a proximity to such
attractive orbs.
Our conversation was chiefly carried on in English, which was not
using the elderly lady fairly, as she was totally unacquainted with
that language. Amongst other inquiries, we requested the explanation
of a circumstance which had much impressed us at Geneva; namely, why
the ladies are generally seen on the public walks in large groupes,
without any gentleman in company with them. This we were told was to be
attributed to the gentlemen, being almost universally members of some
learned society or other; the intercourse with which they prefer, to the
more sentimental conversation of the ladies. In revenge for this neglect,
however, the ladies have also their exclusive associations, which, they
maintain, afford them more pleasure and independence, than they could
derive from converse with the other sex. I must confess myself sceptical
as to the actual indifference of the ladies; and pity most sincerely the
Genevese gentlemen, for thus rejecting the influence of the softer sex.
“Oh, woman! lovely woman! Nature made ye to temper man—
We had been brutes without you.”