TIVOLI--COUNTRY EXCURSIONS--CICILIANO--HOSPITALITY OF
THE MOUNTAINEERS--THE PORTA SAN LORENZO--VISIT TO THE
GOVERNOR--ANOTHER START NORTHWARD--FLORENCE--THE UFFIZII--S----,
AND HIS HEAD OF VELASQUEZ--THE FLOOD OF THE ARNO--MR.
M.--LORD D.--UNEXPECTED SUMMONS--PISA--LEGHORN--GENOA--THE
“DILIGENCE”--ALESSANDRIA--TURIN--THE RAILWAY DEPUTATION--EXPEDITION
TO THE MONT CENIS--SUSA--BARDONECHE--MY FRIEND B.’S MOUNTAIN
RAMBLE--SUCCESSFUL “JODELN”--THE VALLEY OF THE DORA SUSA--DEPARTURE
FROM TURIN--CONCLUSION.
The “Holy Week” and its ceremonies concluded, and Raven having left
for Marseilles on his way homewards, a few of us made up a party for
Tivoli. Some rode, while the rest, preferring the dreary march over
the Campagna, were overtaken by a Roman shower, which thoroughly
soaked them to the skin before they reached the appointed rendezvous
at Salvi’s hotel. We had intended to devote the next day to a walk as
far as Vicovaro, but having chosen a most unfortunate time for our
excursion, had got only about three-fourths of the way there, when such
a drencher poured down upon us, whilst in a totally unsheltered part
of the road, that we were compelled to take refuge in a little straw
wine-house, about as big as a hay-cock, which was already occupied by
the family of the proprietor, half-a-dozen surly dogs, and myriads of
fleas. Amusing ourselves by transferring the faces of the children to
our sketch-books, we remained until an opening in the black clouds
above promised some abatement of the rain, and then, sallying forth,
made a quick march back to the hotel, where a roaring fire welcomed
us very opportunely. In the evening, our little party was enlivened
by a visit from Count H. le Grice and Captain D----, who had for some
months been enjoying the retirement of the Palazzo Santa Croce. The
latter amused us with some exciting stories of a long campaign n the
Peninsula, and proposed, if the morrow should prove more propitious,
a donkey-excursion to the distant village of Ciciliano. We therefore
ordered a number of animals to be in readiness, and finding, when we
arose, that the clouds of the preceding day had entirely disappeared,
we made a start after breakfast, and had a delightful, though somewhat
wearying ride, to the little village, which lies embosomed among the
mountains, at a considerable elevation above the valley through which
our road had led us.
The scenery is of a wild and charming character, and it is
extraordinary that these secluded regions are not more often visited
by those who profess to travel in search of the picturesque. Toiling
up the hill, which conducted us to the quaint little town, we halted
before the best-looking house therein, and deposited at the door a
mule-load of brocoli and lemons, which we intended as an offering to
the padrone, who was personally known to some of our party. The good
man was absent on business in a neighbouring village, but his wife,
an agreeable and most intelligent-looking woman, gave us a hearty
welcome, cooked us a large dish of home-made sausages, and supplied
us with wine and cheese _ad libitum_. We staid but an hour or two,
to recruit ourselves and the tired mules, but our kind hostess, with
that liberality which distinguishes the peasants of the Appenines,
had already prepared our beds and lamps, and would scarcely hear of
our going away the same day. In order, too, that we might the more
effectually enjoy ourselves, the kind creature had gathered about her
all the rural beauty of Ciciliano, and one or two dark-looking fellows,
with their guitars, in the hope of tempting us with an evening dance,
and the excitement of a genuine _Saltarello_. It would be difficult to
say whether they or we were the more disappointed, but we had made up
our minds to return, and feeling also that the unexpected intrusion
of a party of seven would be taxing her hospitality too severely, we
saddled our mules and bade them _addio_. The next morning broke so
temptingly, that we lounged it away at the Falls, whose cool grots and
rushing waters were seldom enjoyed to greater advantage.
As I had ridden out to Tivoli, I varied the pleasures of the excursion
by walking home. My friend Flake proved a most agreeable companion, and
we walked and talked to such good purpose, that the weary length of
road over the campagna was almost unnoticed, saving that I had become
so lame, that I was obliged to take off one boot and suspend it by a
string over my shoulder. At length we reached the Porta San Lorenzo,
through which we were quietly proceeding, when some functionary,
emerging from a chamber in the wall, arrested our farther progress by
demanding our passports. We had none; and our _carte di sicurezza_
were safe in our respective drawers where we had left them. We were
therefore detained, and presently discovered that nothing short of a
visit to the Governor of Rome would satisfy the officious gate-keeper.
The good man evidently flattered himself that our seedy artistical garb
disguised a pair of very dangerous foreigners, and having invested
himself in a suitable habit, he appropriated an arm of each of us, and
strode forward with becoming importance towards the church of Santa
Maria Maggiore. Flake and I, however, were foot-sore and weary, and
not relishing the _eclat_ of being marched through the streets in the
clutch of a dirty gate-keeper, we chartered the first empty coach
that came in our way, and treated our body-guard with a ride to the
“Polizia.” The Governor of Rome was, like other reasonable men, at his
dinner; but a good-natured clerk who had eaten _his_ two hours before,
referred to his books, and finding that our names were duly inscribed
therein, and that had we not forgotten our papers we should have been
perfectly _en regle_, he dismissed us with many apologies for the
inconvenience we had experienced, and bestowing a few words of approval
on our friend of the gate, told him to get back as fast as he could to
his duties.
W. now took it into his head to make a sudden start for the north, and
proposed that I should accompany him. I had certainly not intended
quitting Rome so early in the spring, but my friend was an invalid, and
having but little knowledge of Italian, was hardly in a condition to
trust himself to the tender mercies of uncouth Vetturini and exacting
landlords. Under these circumstances I made up my mind to go with him,
and after some little search, met with a light britzka and pair of
horses, belonging to a cabman of Florence, who agreed to deposit us
safe and sound in that city within four days from the time of starting,
for a sum of fifty scudi, including beds, and two substantial daily
meals.
I had now to bid a second adieu to my Roman friends, and not knowing
how far I might be induced to accompany W., left the few heavy
valuables I possessed in the care of a kind banker in the Condotti,
taking with me such only as a long journey might render necessary.
Travelling by way of Perugia, we reached Florence by easy stages,
and located ourselves at the “Quatre Nations,” from whence I shortly
removed to the house of the Signor Vital, on the Lung’ Arno, with whom
I had been long acquainted. Here I staid two weeks or more, copying in
the Uffizii and Pitti galleries, to which the access is sufficiently
easy. In the former I made acquaintance with S----, an English artist,
who was busily copying a head by Velasquez. Whether it was that he
soon after got tired of his subject, or became disgusted with his
production, he did not tell me, but I was much astonished one day,
on paying my usual visit to his part of the gallery, to find him in
the act of finishing off his study with a pair of prodigiously black
eyes, which stared at me from the canvas with a fixedness that was
excessively absurd. Remonstrance was useless. Adding two spots of
white, which served to perfect the vagary, S---- turned his picture to
the wall, where we left it. Some days afterwards, I happened to be in
that division of the gallery, when it was undergoing the weekly visit
of the sweeping brush. The head _custode_, who would suffer none but
himself to touch such pictures as were in progress, was regarding the
copy of Velasquez with a stare almost as intense as that which had been
imparted to it by S----. In another moment, he had summoned the whole
of his underlings; but to no purpose--they one and all pleaded innocent
of the foul trick upon the Signor Inglese. The poor custode was in
despair, and was wringing his hands and tearing his wig in anticipation
of the dismissal which would inevitably follow S----’s exposure of
the black eyes, when that gentleman himself entered the gallery, and
immediately relieved the old man’s anxiety by adding a nose and mouth
to match, and packing up his painting apparatus.
At Florence I met with my friend Edward M----y, who had gained
so deserved a popularity by his courageous exploits in the flood
which caused so much damage in 1845, when the Arno, swollen to a
mighty torrent by the rains which poured into it from the mountains,
encroached beyond its wonted bounds, and sweeping down the valley
with irresistible rapidity, carried all before it. For days did the
waters tear along, bearing upon their bosom the spoils of many a goodly
homestal. Cattle and trees, chairs, tables, beds, pianofortes, and
every possible description of household furniture, nay, the very body
of the inmates themselves, were carried away by the ruthless torrent,
which converted the streets of Florence into canals, and rose in some
of the squares to a height of more than six feet. M----y was at this
time living in the Palazzo P----, in the Borgo dei Greci, and on the
morning of the first day of the flood was awakened by his landlady, who
entered his room, wailing and beating her hands in a state of frightful
agitation. It was not without difficulty that M----y managed to elicit
that something unusually terrible had taken place out of doors, but
in going to the window, he saw quite sufficient to enlighten him
completely. A horse, nearly exhausted, was swimming about in the street
below, among a quantity of flasks, barrels, and other commodities,
which had floated from out the cellars. The good woman now gave him to
understand that her son had left the house early in the morning, and
was certainly drowned; but whilst M----y was in the act of assuming a
pair of light summer trousers, a message was passed along the adjacent
houses to the effect that the young man was on a plank at some distance
off, and in imminent peril of being carried into the Arno. M----y was
now at the steps of the palace, where several people were congregated.
One old woman begged him “_per l’amore della Madonna_,” and as he
valued his life, not to venture; but the afflicted mother stood by,
and our friend did not hesitate a second. Being a man of Herculean
frame, and possessed of incredible strength, he was able, whilst he
touched terra-firma, to stem the force of the current with his head and
shoulders above the water, and having cautiously waded to the young
man, whose hold upon the plank was becoming every moment more feeble,
he stretched forth his arm and rescued him.
This was not the only one whose life M----y was the providential means
of saving, but the accounts I heard respecting the others were so
varied, that I shall not farther allude to them. I often begged him to
give me the particulars, but so uniformly averse was he to expatiate
upon his own exploits, that I at last gave it up as a bad job.
Perhaps one of the most daring feats related in connection with this
flood, was that performed by Lord D. This nobleman had engaged to dine
with the Honourable C---- L----, and both occupied palaces in the same
street, though at considerable distance from each other. The waters
were too deep to allow of wading, and the act of swimming was rendered
hazardous from the rapidity with which the torrent was raging. But
his word had been passed, and the hour fixed for dinner having nearly
arrived, his lordship unhesitatingly committed himself to the flood,
and by making a rush from one window to the other, and clinging to the
iron work with which almost all were furnished, succeeded in gaining
the hotel of his friend, whose family he astonished in no small degree,
by suddenly presenting himself at the first-floor window, just as they
were about to sit down to table. Having borrowed a dry suit, Lord D.,
who evidently was not to be easily discouraged by trifles, enjoyed his
dinner, and swam back again to his own domicile.
I had scarce been a fortnight at the house of the Signor Vital, when
the plans which I had formed for my future guidance, were suddenly
knocked on the head by the receipt of a letter inviting me immediately
northward, to meet a deputation of railway potentates, among whom were
one or two personal acquaintance of my own. These gentlemen, armed with
powers to treat, and unfathomable purses, were invading Italy, fraught
with a scheme which would defy the very Alps, and make footballs of
the Appenines. The partial completion of the Lombardo-Venetian trunk,
had already whetted the appetites of the Austrians, who were free
to receive and take fire at the scintillations of the great railway
firework which had recently exploded in Britain, and had scattered its
sparks over the whole of the north of Italy, some blowing over into
gentle Tuscany, whilst _a very few_ fell into the dominions of the
Pope. Although somewhat loth to close my colour box, in the uncertain
expectation of having once more to shoulder a theodolite, I felt that
it would be impolitic to refuse an invitation which had been extended
through the interest of my friends, and might lead to important results.
I therefore once more packed up my portmanteau, and as W. was intending
to proceed to Genoa, which would be all on my way to Turin, we hired a
carriage for Pisa, and leaving Florence at ten at night, changed horses
three times, and at six in the morning arrived at the birth-place
of Galileo. We put up at a little inn near to the railway by which
we were to reach Leghorn, and hastily dispatching our breakfast,
walked out in a heavy rain to see the leaning tower or Campanile, and
other interesting objects in its neighbourhood. A priest conducted
us into the Baptistery, a circular building standing by itself, with
a spacious and lofty dome. Here the good man, who possessed a rich
and powerful voice, chanted a few verses, in order that we might hear
the reverberation caused by the peculiar structure of the cupola, and
almost startled us by the effect he produced. The Campo Santo is close
by, and its covered galleries abound with frescoes and other valuable
works of art, much injured by time. The earth in this burial-place is
said to have been brought from Calvary by the Pisans, on their return
from a crusade, and the name of _Campo Santo_, applied to all Italian
cemeteries, probably owes its origin to this circumstance.
A railway trip of half-an-hour’s duration, brought us to Leghorn, where
we engaged berths for Genoa. Repairing on board the steam vessel, we
found, to our chagrin, that the rain which had prevented the discharge
of her cargo, would be the cause of our staying a day in this dirty
sea-port. We had, therefore, to pocket our soap and toothbrushes, and
secure beds at a little hotel contiguous to the shore, passing the
remainder of the wet and dismal day in strolling through the town, and
poking about in the ware-room of Jewish merchants.
Arrived at Genoa, and having obtained pratique, we passed through the
strict formalities of its custom-house, and located ourselves at the
“Croce di Malta.” Being in expectation of hearing something decisive
from my friend of the railway deputation, respecting the whereabouts
of the party, I hastened to the post-office, but met with no success.
Having taken every precaution respecting the due forwarding of any
letters from Florence, I made up my mind to wait patiently in Genoa
until some intelligence might reach me.
I had been six days at the “Croce,” when the waiter handed me a letter.
It was from W----m, informing me that the parties were at Turin, and
that I might there make sure of finding them. By half-past two o’clock
I had taken my seat in the coupé of the _diligence_, between a Spaniard
and a pretty Turinese lady, and my friend W. having wished me _bon
voyage_, I was soon rattling away towards Alessandria, passing over
the blood-stained plains of Marengo, where fell the brave Dessaix.
We reached that city at ten at night. Some of the passengers partook
of a hearty supper which was in readiness for them, but my fair
fellow-traveller, who seemed to think that a few sweets and a cup of
hot coffee would suit her better, at so late an hour, than a heavy
meal, possessed herself of my arm in a way as unceremonious as it was
agreeable, and hurried me off to a brilliant café in the square, where
we passed one of the two hours which the conducteur had informed me
must elapse before the arrival of the branch mail from Tortona.
At eight the next morning, we reached the Sardinian capital. On
repairing to the “Hotel de l’Europe,” I was ushered by a loquacious
waiter into the bedroom of a gentleman, who, being in the act of
donning his _corazza_, was not a little surprised, as his head emerged
slowly and carefully from out the well-starched front, to see a dusty
fellow in a slouched hat disappearing with a carpet bag. As I found
I had failed to escape his observation, I stammered an apology in my
very best Italian, which I found provocative of nothing beyond a stare
and an ejaculatory comment in sound English upon my impudence. This
latter was enough for me; the mistake was speedily explained, and in
another minute I had shaken hands with W----m, who occupied an inner
apartment. In the breakfast-room I was introduced to the rest, and a
more agreeable travelling party it certainly had never been my lot
to fall in with. It was enlivened moreover by the presence of several
ladies, whose charming society contrasted most pleasantly with the dull
and prosy discussions of the rooms above, in which the business of the
deputation was carried on.
In submitting these sketches to the world, it forms no part of my
intention to detail the extraordinary efforts made by this body of
gentlemen, to carry out the grand object which had led them to Italy,
neither would it become me to describe the movements of a party by whom
I was only regarded in the light of a visitor, and in no other way
identified. But as an eye-witness to the unwearied exertions made by
the well-known leaders of that deputation, in the face of obstacles,
which at the very outset would have deterred less energetic men, I
_may_ be allowed to express my own admiration of the clear-headed
tact which characterized their proceedings, and my firm conviction
that their undertaking would have been crowned with the most complete
success, had the exchequers of certain of the Italian states not been
so much upon a par with the short-sighted policy of their rulers.
About a week after my arrival in Turin, I was invited to accompany
Mr. B----e, on a little engineering expedition to the Mont Cenis.
Fortified with an order from Marina, the Minister of the Interior, and
furnished with some provisions, and a change or two of linen, we left
the hotel at one o’clock, with a light carriage and pair of posters,
reaching the town of Susa about an hour before dusk. We employed this
interval in a walk to Jailliéres, a romantic little village commanding
a view of the valley of the Dora Susa, and enabling B----e to chalk out
a route for the ensuing day.
The next morning we mounted a couple of strong mules, and escorted by
an intelligent guide, took our course up the Susa Valley, B----e, plan
in hand, making his observations by the way, with a view to discover
the most practicable course for a line of railway through or over some
portion of the Cenis. We halted for an hour at the town of Exilés,
where the valley, at that point very narrow, is guarded by a strong
fort. From hence the views, both up and down the course of the torrent,
are wild and beautiful. Farther on, at a little place called Oulx, the
road diverges into two branches, that to the south leading through
the valley of the Dora to Cesanno, and over the ridge to the French
frontier, the other following the course of the Dora Susa stream to its
rise under the Col de Frejus. This latter was our road. On leaving
Oulx, the valley widens into an extensive plain: a stony bridle path,
at one time lost in the stream, and at another skirting the edge of a
precipice, formed by the rushing of the waters, led us through several
pretty little villages to Bardoneche.
I arrived here alone, my companion having left me a couple of hours
before, to explore another valley, whose direction he imagined might
be favourable to his views. The guide conducted me to a curious old
tumble-down sort of house, where an obliging individual, acting in the
various capacities of landlord, waiter, chambermaid, ostler, boots
and cook, set before me the knuckle-end of a cold leg of mutton, a
piece of cream cheese, and a yard of Genoese bread. I made a hearty
dinner, though I should have enjoyed my meal much more had B----e not
been absent. Having sat a long while solus, I strolled away in the
direction by which I had arrived. It was now dark, and fearing that my
companion might have lost his way in the mountains, I was beginning
to feel some alarm for his safety. Having walked upwards of a mile, I
stopped to listen: not a sound, save the rippling of the Dora Susa over
its broad and pebbly bed. At last I bethought myself that a _jodeln_
might perhaps be of service. I managed so loud a one, that it almost
startled me, but instead of being answered, as I fondly imagined it
might have been, by B----e, it was responded to in one quarter by a
series of echoes so beautifully perfect, that I tried it over and over
again. Listening to the sounds as they died away in the far distance,
I detected one which I felt sure was none of my own raising, and I
had travelled too far not to know that an Irish echo is never heard
south-east of Skibbereen. I listened again, and this time the sound
was so distinct, that I was convinced it came from my friend. Walking
onwards, I soon had the satisfaction of seeing him emerge from the Dora
Susa, which it appeared he had preferred to wade, rather than make a
wide detour along its banks. He had, as I had supposed, lost his way,
and after descending from a lofty part of the mountain, over a tract
of snow, which had wetted him nearly up to his middle, completed the
ducking by a stroll after dusk in the channel of the torrent.
On returning to our quaint hostelrie, we discussed with the guides the
possibility of crossing the Col de Frejus, whose head was still covered
with a mantle of deep snow. Although quite ready to risk it with us,
they dissuaded us from the attempt, on the ground of our being the
first to venture, besides that the undertaking was by no means easy,
and as we were both too tired to like the idea of turning out of bed
at three in the morning, which would have been necessary to insure a
frozen surface on the snow, we gave up the idea of taking a peep into
France, and decided on a return to Susa.
We were about starting, after an early breakfast, when our landlord
insisted upon showing us the new church, a mean little white-washed
building, of the most primitive description, although possibly
considered by the unsophisticated Bardonecchians as a gorgeous
temple. The good man appeared much flattered by our praises of its
architectural merits, and accompanied us beyond the precincts of the
village. I became so tired of riding, that I got off my mule to walk,
reaching Oulx long before my companions, and making acquaintance on the
road with a chatty mountaineer, who was on his way to the town to make
some purchases. He got on with my wine-flask very much better than I
with his patois, which was nearly unintelligible. The ride to Susa was
very charming, our guides striking into a bye-path which skirted the
Dora, and disclosed occasional glimpses of most romantic scenery. On
reaching the inn, I found a letter from W--m, recalling me immediately
to Turin, and I was obliged to leave my companion to prosecute his
researches alone, whilst I took a place in the next vettura for that
city.
My sudden recall had arisen, it appeared, in consequence of a
determination on the part of my friends at Turin, to visit other states
through which the course of the proposed line lay. And here I may draw
my somewhat unconnected narrative to a conclusion. It would be needless
to conduct the reader a second time to Ancona, Florence, and Rome, at
which last-mentioned city we made a stay of a fortnight, to effect
certain arrangements with the late Pope, and the Prince Torlonia, by
whom we were courteously received. From hence a party of us made a
sally to Naples and Leghorn, taking the steamer to Marseilles, and
travelling night and day to Paris in an open britska. Lingering a month
or two in the French capital, I returned to England in the spring,
after an absence of somewhat more than three years.
THE END.
RICHARD BARRETT, Printer, 13, Mark Lane, London.
Transcriber’s Notes
Errors in punctuation have been fixed.
Apparent errors in spelling and accentuation in languages other than
English were not corrected.
Page 29: “projector of the orginal Transit Company” changed to
“projector of the original Transit Company”
Page 30: “gaudy labrynth” changed to “gaudy labyrinth”
Page 154: “waving all ceremony” changed to “waiving all ceremony”
Page 191: “extended prespect” changed to “extended prospect”
Page 222: “geuine Vaterlander” changed to “genuine Vaterlander”
Page 263: “dispersiou of the crowd” changed to “dispersion of the crowd”
Page 267: “by Perngia” changed to “by Perugia”