I had taken the precaution at Rome to write to Civita Vecchia to secure
a berth by the steamer Capri for Leghorn, but on my arrival I found my
chance was only for a mattress on the cabin floor, as some one hundred
and fifty passengers had just escaped from the revolution and massacre
at Naples, and the steamer was full. We had one of those nights that
I had seldom seen on the Mediterranean, stormy and boisterous, with a
heavy sea; the horrors of sea-sickness were experienced by all, except
some six of us old travellers, who, in place of a four-franc dinner,
always paid for in advance, could only get a bowl of soup by bracing
oneself in a corner. Chairs were flying about under the table, and
one confused, chaotic mass of humanity, men, women, and children, was
stretched over the settees and cabin floors, while others kept on deck
exposed to a drenching rain.
At the Baths of Lucca I found but few strangers, as they were fearful
of an attack from deserted soldiers, and a portion of the Neapolitan
army who had been recalled by their despotic king.
At Florence the people caught the general, whose mission had been
at Bologna to recall the troops after the revolution of Naples; he
succeeded in making his escape, however, but we had a great flare-up
in the public place, at midnight, in the burning of his papers and
carriage. It was a tumultuous scene; the infatuated mob hissing,
groaning, and shouting, and the military with their gleaming bayonets
shining, as the flames and cinders rose in the air.
The Grand Duke is much respected by his people, and Tuscany has more
liberty than any other part of Italy. I was a witness of the brilliant
reception he received by the populace at Leghorn, and heard his address
from the balcony of the palace, after which followed an illumination
of the city. I have little confidence in the lower classes of Leghorn.
They are excitable and tumultuous, and difficult to restrain, and
we may soon hear of a general flare-up or civil war. It afforded me
pleasure to visit once again our fellow-countrymen, Messrs. Powers and
Greenough, whose studios have contributed so much in sculpture to the
fame of American artists, and who are so well known in our country.
I found several other American artists, both painters and sculptors,
at Florence, who promise well for the future. It is one of the most
agreeable residences in Italy, but I find fewer strangers here than
formerly, as the political disturbances, and the failure of bankers in
Paris, have driven them away.
At Genoa all was tranquil, and from thence I took the malle-poste
via Alexandria, the great Piedmont fortifications, near which is the
battle-ground of Marengo, for Turin. In the absence of the royal
family and the bulk of the army it was rather dull. The greatest
enthusiasm for the Italian cause pervades all Sardinia, and the
Piedmont soldiers, being a brave and hardy race from the mountains, are
capable of doing duty; but I fear without support from other sources
they will not be able to resist the impetuous and large forces of the
Austrians, composed of Croats, Slavonians, and Hungarians.
Turin is a beautiful city, with a population of some two hundred
thousand, and is handsomely situated on the river Po. Its boulevards
and promenades in the suburbs are strikingly pretty. The palace of
Charles Albert is vast and richly ornamented; the collection of ancient
armor in the old chateau is more beautiful than any I had seen, except
the Green Vaults of Dresden.
The Sardinian Senate was in session, and in company with our Chargé
d’Affaires, Mr. Niles, who accompanied me to the Tribune, where was
seated the delegation from Milan, praying the union of Lombardy to
Sardinia. We heard Count Balbi of Genoa, well known for his liberal
views, present a petition for the immediate incorporation of the two
countries. It was received with bursts of applause and unanimous
acclamations, and rarely have I seen so much enthusiasm in a public
body of representatives.
The country from Turin to Ivrea, as the road strikes north to the St.
Bernard, is well cultivated, and has an air of comfort; and, in fact,
in Piedmont generally is seen much less of that squalid poverty than is
met with at the south of Italy.
The valley of Ostia is beautiful in the extreme, for the wild and
picturesque, as is also the mountain scenery, and the torrents from the
melting of the snows, as they rush by with an impetuosity frightful
to behold, and only found in Switzerland in the vicinity of high
mountains. To my surprise, at the foot of St. Bernard, in the extreme
north of Italy, I found at the entrance of the town of Ostia a Roman
arch that in beauty and preservation would surpass the arches of Titus
and Constantine in Rome. There is also a colossal Roman bridge in good
preservation, although partly covered with the dust of ages, also the
remains of an amphitheatre, and other relics.
After a day spent here I proceeded in a one-horse vehicle to a small
village at the foot of the mountain, where commences the ascent, and
where I passed the night. At the entrance of the inn I started back at
the sight of a huge chained dog, with glassy eyes, but soon found it
was none other than the stuffed skin of one of those noble fellows who
had saved the lives of several snow-benighted travellers.
The keeper of the inn was the guide of the pass. I asked him his terms
for his mules and services, and found that he asked double the ordinary
prices. Upon expostulating with him he informed me that no traveller
had yet passed; that the avalanches were yet unmelted and to be feared.
I thought it was all a ruse, but he said he would prefer not to go. I
could not retrace my steps; I was well provided with garments, having
an Algerine cloak with a hood attached to protect the head, a mantle
in addition, with shoes and overshoes. I knew I could not suffer from
cold, and I accepted his terms, to leave the following morning with two
mules for myself and baggage, and two guides. To my surprise I found
all he had said was true. We passed over immense avalanches of snow in
the gorges and passages, where it was necessary for the two guides to
take one mule at a time, one at the head and the other at the side, to
keep me mounted.
We arrived safely at the Convent or Hospice, and I was cordially
received by the fraternity and showed the interior of the immense
building with over one hundred rooms; its chapel or church is decorated
with paintings, marble altars, crucifixes, &c., and would compare
with many small churches in Italy. Here is also the monument of Gen.
Dessaix, Napoleon’s bosom friend, who fell at the battle of Marengo.
The Emperor contributed largely to the funds of the establishment. I
saw that famous breed of dogs so well known, and also a building where
are the bones and dried mummies of those who die in the convent or are
found in the snow. The monks are only thirteen in number, and usually
change every three years, as the temperature is found too bracing. They
informed me that all my guide had said was true; that I was the first
traveller of the season; I was quite at home among them, as they had
many inquiries to make about Rome and Palestine; and although dinner
was served early on my behalf, our sitting was prolonged until I was
admonished by my guides it was time to depart in order to arrive at the
village at the foot of the mountain before nightfall. There I procured
a _char-à-banc_ and came to St. Maurice and Martigny, and soon
embarked by steamer upon the beautiful Lake of Geneva, passing Vevay,
Lausanne, and other towns with all their souvenirs of a former visit
during the season of the vintage. The day was warm and beautiful, and
the lake placid, and I was quite satisfied having made the pass of the
mountains which loomed up in the distance, the peak eternally covered
with snow, without having suffered accident or inconvenience.
I find this beautiful town, Geneva, less active than when I last
visited it, as the distracted state of affairs on the Continent has
operated seriously against the branch of commerce in which it chiefly
engaged--the manufacture of jewelry. There are now five thousand
workmen without their regular employment, and the authorities, to keep
them from open rebellion, are levelling a rampart and filling up the
fosses, which gives employ to a vast number at a remuneration of only
one and a half francs, or thirty cents per day, barely sufficient to
keep body and soul together.