ravine of the Via Mala. I interchanged a few words with him or with his
wife at the hospice, at the top of the Splugen; and I became acquainted
with him in the courtyard of Conradi’s hotel at Chiavenna. It was,
however, afterwards at Bellaggio, on the lake of Como, that that
acquaintance ripened into intimacy. A good many years have rolled by
since then, and I believe this little episode in his life may be told
without pain to the feelings of any one.
His name was ----; let us for the present say that his name was Greene.
How he learned that my name was Robinson I do not know, but I remember
well that he addressed me by my name at Chiavenna. To go back, however,
for a moment to the Via Mala;--I had been staying for a few days at the
Golden Eagle at Tusis,--which, by-the-bye, I hold to be the best small
inn in all Switzerland, and its hostess to be, or to have been,
certainly the prettiest landlady,--and on the day of my departure
southwards, I had walked on, into the Via Mala, so that the diligence
might pick me up in the gorge. This pass I regard as one of the grandest
spots to which my wandering steps have ever carried me, and though I had
already lingered about it for many hours, I now walked thither again to
take my last farewell of its dark towering rocks, its narrow causeway
and roaring river, trusting to my friend the landlady to see that my
luggage was duly packed upon the diligence. I need hardly say that my
friend did not betray her trust.
As one goes out from Switzerland towards Italy, the road through the Via
Mala ascends somewhat steeply, and passengers by the diligence may walk
from the inn at Tusis into the gorge, and make their way through the
greater part of the ravine before the vehicle will overtake them. This,
however, Mr. Greene with his wife and daughter had omitted to do. When
the diligence passed me in the defile, the horses trotting for a few
yards over some level portion of the road, I saw a man’s nose pressed
close against the glass of the coupé window. I saw more of his nose than
of any other part of his face, but yet I could perceive that his neck
was twisted and his eye upturned, and that he was making a painful
effort to look upwards to the summit of the rocks from his position
inside the carriage.
There was such a roar of wind and waters at the spot that it was not
practicable to speak to him, but I beckoned with my finger and then
pointed to the road, indicating that he should have walked. He
understood me, though I did not at the moment understand his answering
gesture. It was subsequently, when I knew somewhat of his habits, that
he explained to me that on pointing to his open mouth, he had intended
to signify that he would be afraid of sore throat in exposing himself to
the air of that damp and narrow passage.
I got up into the conductor’s covered seat at the back of the diligence,
and in this position encountered the drifting snow of the Splugen. I
think it is coldest of all the passes. Near the top of the pass the
diligence stops for awhile, and it is here, if I remember, that the
Austrian officials demand the travellers’ passports. At least in those
days they did so. These officials have now retreated behind the
Quadrilatère,--soon, as we hope, to make a further retreat,--and the
district belongs to the kingdom of United Italy. There is a place of
refreshment or hospice here, into which we all went for a few moments,
and I then saw that my friend with the weak throat was accompanied by
two ladies.
“You should not have missed the Via Mala,” I said to him, as he stood
warming his toes at the huge covered stove.
“We miss everything,” said the elder of the two ladies, who, however,
was very much younger than the gentleman, and not very much older than
her companion.
“I saw it beautifully, mamma,” said the younger one; whereupon mamma
gave her head a toss, and made up her mind, as I thought, to take some
little vengeance before long upon her step-daughter. I observed that
Miss Greene always called her step-mother mamma on the first approach of
any stranger, so that the nature of the connection between them might be
understood. And I observed also that the elder lady always gave her head
a toss when she was so addressed.
“We don’t mean to enjoy ourselves till we get down to the lake of
Como,” said Mr. Greene. As I looked at him cowering over the stove, and
saw how oppressed he was with great coats and warm wrappings for his
throat, I quite agreed with him that he had not begun to enjoy himself
as yet. Then we all got into our places again, and I saw no more of the
Greenes till we were standing huddled together in the large courtyard of
Conradi’s hotel at Chiavenna.
Chiavenna is the first Italian town which the tourist reaches by this
route, and I know no town in the North of Italy which is so closely
surrounded by beautiful scenery. The traveller as he falls down to it
from the Splugen road is bewildered by the loveliness of the
valleys,--that is to say, if he so arranges that he can see them without
pressing his nose against the glass of a coach window. And then from the
town itself there are walks of two, three, and four hours, which I think
are unsurpassed for wild and sometimes startling beauties. One gets into
little valleys, green as emeralds, and surrounded on all sides by grey
broken rocks, in which Italian Rasselases might have lived in perfect
bliss; and then again one comes upon distant views up the river courses,
bounded far away by the spurs of the Alps, which are perfect,--to which
the fancy can add no additional charm. Conradi’s hotel also is by no
means bad; or was not in those days. For my part I am inclined to think
that Italian hotels have received a worse name than they deserve; and I
must profess that, looking merely to creature comforts, I would much
sooner stay a week at the Golden Key at Chiavenna, than with mine host
of the King’s Head in the thriving commercial town of Muddleboro, on the
borders of Yorkshire and Lancashire.
I am always rather keen about my room in travelling, and having secured
a chamber looking out upon the mountains, had returned to the court-yard
to collect my baggage before Mr. Greene had succeeded in realising his
position, or understanding that he had to take upon himself the duties
of settling his family for the night in the hotel by which he was
surrounded. When I descended he was stripping off the outermost of three
great coats, and four waiters around him were beseeching him to tell
them what accommodation he would require. Mr. Greene was giving sundry
very urgent instructions to the conductor respecting his boxes; but as
these were given in English, I was not surprised to find that they were
not accurately followed. The man, however, was much too courteous to say
in any language that he did not understand every word that was said to
him. Miss Greene was standing apart, doing nothing. As she was only
eighteen years of age, it was of course her business to do nothing; and
a very pretty little girl she was, by no means ignorant of her own
beauty, and possessed of quite sufficient wit to enable her to make the
most of it.
Mr. Greene was very leisurely in his proceedings, and the four waiters
were almost reduced to despair.
“I want two bed-rooms, a dressing-room, and some dinner,” he said at
last, speaking very slowly, and in his own vernacular. I could not in
the least assist him by translating it into Italian, for I did not speak
a word of the language myself; but I suggested that the man would
understand French. The waiter, however, had understood English. Waiters
do understand all languages with a facility that is marvellous; and this
one now suggested that Mrs. Greene should follow him up-stairs. Mrs.
Greene, however, would not move till she had seen that her boxes were
all right; and as Mrs. Greene was also a pretty woman, I found myself
bound to apply myself to her assistance.
“Oh, thank you,” said she. “The people are so stupid that one can really
do nothing with them. And as for Mr. Greene, he is of no use at all. You
see that box, the smaller one. I have four hundred pounds’ worth of
jewellery in that, and therefore I am obliged to look after it.”
“Indeed,” said I, rather startled at this amount of confidence on rather
a short acquaintance. “In that case I do not wonder at your being
careful. But is it not rather rash, perhaps----”
“I know what you are going to say. Well, perhaps it is rash. But when
you are going to foreign courts, what are you to do? If you have got
those sort of things you must wear them.”
As I was not myself possessed of anything of that sort, and had no
intention of going to any foreign court, I could not argue the matter
with her. But I assisted her in getting together an enormous pile of
luggage, among which there were seven large boxes covered with canvas,
such as ladies not uncommonly carry with them when travelling. That one
which she represented as being smaller than the others, and as holding
jewellery, might be about a yard long by a foot and a half deep. Being
ignorant in those matters, I should have thought it sufficient to carry
all a lady’s wardrobe for twelve months. When the boxes were collected
together, she sat down upon the jewel-case and looked up into my face.
She was a pretty woman, perhaps thirty years of age, with long light
yellow hair, which she allowed to escape from her bonnet, knowing,
perhaps, that it was not unbecoming to her when thus dishevelled. Her
skin was very delicate, and her complexion good. Indeed her face would
have been altogether prepossessing had there not been a want of
gentleness in her eyes. Her hands, too, were soft and small, and on the
whole she may be said to have been possessed of a strong battery of
feminine attractions. She also well knew how to use them.
“Whisper,” she said to me, with a peculiar but very proper aspiration on
the h--“Wh-hisper,” and both by the aspiration and the use of the word I
knew at once from what island she had come. “Mr. Greene keeps all his
money in this box also; so I never let it go out of my sight for a
moment. But whatever you do, don’t tell him that I told you so.”
I laid my hand on my heart, and made a solemn asseveration that I would
not divulge her secret. I need not, however, have troubled myself much
on that head, for as I walked up stairs, keeping my eye upon the
precious trunk, Mr. Greene addressed me.
“You are an Englishman, Mr. Robinson,” said he. I acknowledged that I
was.
“I am another. My wife, however, is Irish. My daughter,--by a former
marriage,--is English also. You see that box there.”
“Oh, yes,” said I, “I see it.” I began to be so fascinated by the box
that I could not keep my eyes off it.
“I don’t know whether or no it is prudent, but I keep all my money
there; my money for travelling, I mean.”
“If I were you, then,” I answered, “I would not say anything about it to
any one.”
“Oh, no, of course not,” said he; “I should not think of mentioning it.
But those brigands in Italy always take away what you have about your
person, but they don’t meddle with the heavy luggage.”
“Bills of exchange, or circular notes,” I suggested.
“Ah, yes; and if you can’t identify yourself, or happen to have a
headache, you can’t get them changed. I asked an old friend of mine, who
has been connected with the Bank of England for the last fifty years,
and he assured me that there was nothing like sovereigns.”
“But you never get the value for them.”
“Well, not quite. One loses a franc, or a franc and a half. But still,
there’s the certainty, and that’s the great matter. An English sovereign
will go anywhere,” and he spoke these words with considerable triumph.
“Undoubtedly, if you consent to lose a shilling on each sovereign.”
“At any rate, I have got three hundred and fifty in that box,” he said.
“I have them done up in rolls of twenty-five pounds each.”
I again recommended him to keep this arrangement of his as private as
possible,--a piece of counsel which I confess seemed to me to be much
needed,--and then I went away to my own room, having first accepted an
invitation from Mrs. Greene to join their party at dinner. “Do,” said
she; “we have been so dull, and it will be so pleasant.”
I did not require to be much pressed to join myself to a party in which
there was so pretty a girl as Miss Greene, and so attractive a woman as
Mrs. Greene. I therefore accepted the invitation readily, and went away
to make my toilet. As I did so I passed the door of Mr. Greene’s room,
and saw the long file of boxes being borne into the centre of it.
I spent a pleasant evening, with, however, one or two slight drawbacks.
As to old Greene himself, he was all that was amiable; but then he was
nervous, full of cares, and somewhat apt to be a bore. He wanted
information on a thousand points, and did not seem to understand that a
young man might prefer the conversation of his daughter to his own. Not
that he showed any solicitude to prevent conversation on the part of his
daughter. I should have been perfectly at liberty to talk to either of
the ladies had he not wished to engross all my attention to himself. He
also had found it dull to be alone with his wife and daughter for the
last six weeks.
He was a small spare man, probably over fifty years of age, who gave me
to understand that he had lived in London all his life, and had made his
own fortune in the city. What he had done in the city to make his
fortune he did not say. Had I come across him there I should no doubt
have found him to be a sharp man of business, quite competent to teach
me many a useful lesson of which I was as ignorant as an infant. Had he
caught me on the Exchange, or at Lloyd’s, or in the big room of the Bank
of England, I should have been compelled to ask him everything. Now, in
this little town under the Alps, he was as much lost as I should have
been in Lombard Street, and was ready enough to look to me for
information. I was by no means chary in giving him my counsel, and
imparting to him my ideas on things in general in that part of the
world;--only I should have preferred to be allowed to make myself civil
to his daughter.
In the course of conversation it was mentioned by him that they intended
to stay a few days at Bellaggio, which, as all the world knows, is a
central spot on the lake of Como, and a favourite resting-place for
travellers. There are three lakes which all meet here, and to all of
which we give the name of Como. They are properly called the lakes of
Como, Colico, and Lecco; and Bellaggio is the spot at which their waters
join each other. I had half made up my mind to sleep there one night on
my road into Italy, and now, on hearing their purpose, I declared that
such was my intention.
“How very pleasant,” said Mrs. Greene. “It will be quite delightful to
have some one to show us how to settle ourselves, for really----”
“My dear, I’m sure you can’t say that you ever have much trouble.”
“And who does then, Mr. Greene? I am sure Sophonisba does not do much to
help me.”
“You won’t let me,” said Sophonisba, whose name I had not before heard.
Her papa had called her Sophy in the yard of the inn. Sophonisba Greene!
Sophonisba Robinson did not sound so badly in my ears, and I confess
that I had tried the names together. Her papa had mentioned to me that
he had no other child, and had mentioned also that he had made his
fortune.
And then there was a little family contest as to the amount of
travelling labour which fell to the lot of each of the party, during
which I retired to one of the windows of the big front room in which we
were sitting. And how much of this labour there is incidental to a
tourist’s pursuits! And how often these little contests do arise upon a
journey! Who has ever travelled and not known them? I had taken up such
a position at the window as might, I thought, have removed me out of
hearing; but nevertheless from time to time a word would catch my ear
about that precious box. “I have never taken my eyes off it since I left
England,” said Mrs. Greene, speaking quick, and with a considerable
brogue superinduced by her energy.
“Where would it have been at Basle if I had not been looking afther it?”
“Quite safe,” said Sophonisba; “those large things always are safe.”
“Are they, Miss? That’s all you know about it. I suppose your bonnet-box
was quite safe when I found it on the platform at--at--I forget the name
of the place?”
“Freidrichshafen,” said Sophonisba, with almost an unnecessary amount of
Teutonic skill in her pronunciation. “Well, mamma, you have told me of
that at least twenty times.” Soon after that, the ladies took them to
their own rooms, weary with the travelling of two days and a night, and
Mr. Greene went fast asleep in the very comfortless chair in which he
was seated.
At four o’clock on the next morning we started on our journey.
“Early to bed, and early to rise,
Is the way to be healthy, and wealthy, and wise.”
We all know that lesson, and many of us believe in it; but if the lesson
be true, the Italians ought to be the healthiest and wealthiest and
wisest of all men and women. Three or four o’clock seems to them quite a
natural hour for commencing the day’s work. Why we should have started
from Chiavenna at four o’clock in order that we might be kept waiting
for the boat an hour and a half on the little quay at Colico, I don’t
know; but such was our destiny. There we remained an hour and a half,
Mrs. Greene sitting pertinaciously on the one important box. She had
designated it as being smaller than the others, and, as all the seven
were now ranged in a row, I had an opportunity of comparing them. It was
something smaller,--perhaps an inch less high, and an inch and a half
shorter. She was a sharp woman, and observed my scrutiny.
“I always know it,” she said in a loud whisper, “by this little hole in
the canvas,” and she put her finger on a slight rent on one of the ends.
“As for Greene, if one of those Italian brigands were to walk off with
it on his shoulders, before his eyes, he wouldn’t be the wiser. How
helpless you men are, Mr. Robinson!”
“It is well for us that we have women to look after us.”
“But you have got no one to look after you;--or perhaps you have left
her behind?”
“No, indeed. I’m all alone in the world as yet. But it’s not my own
fault. I have asked half a dozen.”
“Now, Mr. Robinson!” And in this way the time passed on the quay at
Colico, till the boat came and took us away. I should have preferred to
pass my time in making myself agreeable to the younger lady; but the
younger lady stood aloof, turning up her nose, as I thought, at her
mamma.
I will not attempt to describe the scenery about Colico. The little town
itself is one of the vilest places under the sun, having no
accommodation for travellers, and being excessively unhealthy; but there
is very little either north or south of the Alps,--and, perhaps, I may
add, very little elsewhere,--to beat the beauty of the mountains which
cluster round the head of the lake. When we had sat upon those boxes
that hour and a half, we were taken on board the steamer, which had
been lying off a little way from the shore, and then we commenced our
journey. Of course there was a good deal of exertion and care necessary
in getting the packages off from the shore on to the boat, and I
observed that any one with half an eye in his head might have seen that
the mental anxiety expended on that one box which was marked by the
small hole in the canvas far exceeded that which was extended to all the
other six boxes. “They deserve that it should be stolen,” I said to
myself, “for being such fools.” And then we went down to breakfast in
the cabin.
“I suppose it must be safe,” said Mrs. Greene to me, ignoring the fact
that the cabin waiter understood English, although she had just ordered
some veal cutlets in that language.
“As safe as a church,” I replied, not wishing to give much apparent
importance to the subject.
“They can’t carry it off here,” said Mr. Greene. But he was innocent of
any attempt at a joke, and was looking at me with all his eyes.
“They might throw it overboard,” said Sophonisba. I at once made up my
mind that she could not be a good-natured girl. The moment that
breakfast was over, Mrs. Greene returned again up-stairs, and I found
her seated on one of the benches near the funnel, from which she could
keep her eyes fixed upon the box. “When one is obliged to carry about
one’s jewels with one, one must be careful, Mr. Robinson,” she said to
me apologetically. But I was becoming tired of the box, and the funnel
was hot and unpleasant, therefore I left her.
I had made up my mind that Sophonisba was ill-natured; but,
nevertheless, she was pretty, and I now went through some little
manœuvres with the object of getting into conversation with her. This
I soon did, and was surprised by her frankness. “How tired you must be
of mamma and her box,” she said to me. To this I made some answer,
declaring that I was rather interested than otherwise in the safety of
the precious trunk. “It makes me sick,” said Sophonisba, “to hear her go
on in that way to a perfect stranger. I heard what she said about her
jewellery.”
“It is natural she should be anxious,” I said, “seeing that it contains
so much that is valuable.”
“Why did she bring them?” said Sophonisba. “She managed to live very
well without jewels till papa married her, about a year since; and now
she can’t travel about for a month without lugging them with her
everywhere. I should be so glad if some one would steal them.”
“But all Mr. Greene’s money is there also.”
“I don’t want papa to be bothered, but I declare I wish the box might be
lost for a day or so. She is such a fool; don’t you think so, Mr.
Robinson?”
At this time it was just fourteen hours since I first had made their
acquaintance in the yard of Conradi’s hotel, and of those fourteen hours
more than half had been passed in bed. I must confess that I looked upon
Sophonisba as being almost more indiscreet than her mother-in-law.
Nevertheless, she was not stupid, and I continued my conversation with
her the greatest part of the way down the lake towards Bellaggio.
These steamers which run up and down the lake of Como and the Lago
Maggiore, put out their passengers at the towns on the banks of the
water by means of small rowing-boats, and the persons who are about to
disembark generally have their own articles ready to their hands when
their turn comes for leaving the steamer. As we came near to Bellaggio,
I looked up my own portmanteau, and, pointing to the beautiful
wood-covered hill that stands at the fork of the waters, told my friend
Greene that he was near his destination. “I am very glad to hear it,”
said he, complacently, but he did not at the moment busy himself about
the boxes. Then the small boat ran up alongside the steamer, and the
passengers for Como and Milan crowded up the side.
“We have to go in that boat,” I said to Greene.
“Nonsense!” he exclaimed.
“Oh, but we have.”
“What! put our boxes into that boat,” said Mrs. Greene. “Oh dear! Here,
boatman! there are seven of these boxes, all in white like this,” and
she pointed to the one that had the hole in the canvas. “Make haste. And
there are two bags, and my dressing case, and Mr. Greene’s portmanteau.
Mr. Greene, where is your portmanteau?”
The boatman whom she addressed, no doubt did not understand a word of
English, but nevertheless he knew what she meant, and, being well
accustomed to the work, got all the luggage together in an incredibly
small number of moments.
“If you will get down into the boat,” I said, “I will see that the
luggage follows you before I leave the deck.”
“I won’t stir,” she said, “till I see that box lifted down. Take care;
you’ll let it fall into the lake. I know you will.”
“I wish they would,” Sophonisba whispered into my ear.
Mr. Greene said nothing, but I could see that his eyes were as anxiously
fixed on what was going on as were those of his wife. At last, however,
the three Greenes were in the boat, as also were all the packages. Then
I followed them, my portmanteau having gone down before me, and we
pushed off for Bellaggio. Up to this period most of the attendants
around us had understood a word or two of English, but now it would be
well if we could find some one to whose ears French would not be
unfamiliar. As regarded Mr. Greene and his wife, they, I found, must
give up all conversation, as they knew nothing of any language but their
own. Sophonisba could make herself understood in French, and was quite
at home, as she assured me, in German. And then the boat was beached on
the shore at Bellaggio, and we all had to go again to work with the
object of getting ourselves lodged at the hotel which overlooks the
water.