Gleanings in Europe

A sudden call drew me from Florence during the carnival, and put me unexpectedly on the road to Paris. As I went alone, I took the mail, or malle-poste; a species of travelling in great request for those who are in a hurry. The mail is always attended by a guard, who accompanies it from one great town to another. His duty it is to see it properly delivered by the way; and to receive contributions that offer on the route. The contractor is permitted to take one or two travellers in his carriage, which is purposely disposed so as to receive them.

I took my place accordingly as far as Genoa, and we left Florence just as the sun was setting, with our lamps lighted. As we drove through the gate of Pisa, I observed a dragoon dashing along, on each side of us, and was then told that frequent robberies had rendered this escort necessary, until we got out of Lucca. There was a contadino inside, a respectable farmer, who was going a post or two down the Arno, and his eye glistened with delight as he regarded the dragoons. “Those are the boys, signore,” he observed to me. “Nineteen of them put five hundred Neapolitans to flight here during the late wars.” I wonder if there be a people on the globe that does not think itself the salt of the earth! Near Salins last year, as we approached Switzerland, the postilion gravely pointed to a fort, which he affirmed had surrendered to five-and-twenty French, though garrisoned by two hundred Austrians. One can hear of such prodigies anywhere, though they are obstinately uncommon in practice, “even Providence,” as Frederick expressed it, “being usually on the side of strong battalions.”

We drove through Pisa at midnight, and reached Lucca before day. On the confines of this little territory we got some beautiful scenery, the road descending and climbing á la Suisse, offering occasional glimpses of the Sea. Massa, the capital of the duchy of that name, was little more than a straggling village, seated on a hill side, but picturesque and Italian; and Carrara, which aspires to the title of a principality, and which is so well known for its statuary marble, is not much more. Both the small states belong to the Duchess Dowager of Modena, and at her death will come under the government of the Duke of Modena, extending his possessions, which already join them, to the sea.

Here the Apennines approached the Mediterranean, until we soon saw their noble piles forming capes and headlands, impending over the blue element. It was altogether a wild and picturesque road, running among and over mountains, along the margin of torrents and through frowning gorges, with occasional openings toward the Mediterranean, that seemed like the breaking away of clouds in winter. One of the most extraordinary features of the scenery was the manner in which grey villages were stuck like wasps’ nests against the acclivities, resembling romantic structures placed in the most picturesque positions on purpose to produce an effect. Fifty of these dusky hamlets rose like bas-reliefs, or embossings, from the brown sides of the mountains; and some of them seemed perched on pinnacles that the foot of man could hardly scale.—I had never before seen anything, in its way, half so wild and romantic as the rustic hamlets in the distance; though a few that we entered completely destroyed the charm on the near view.

At Spezzia an indentation of the coast brought our carriage wheels fairly into the water; and after this we began to ascend. Just as night closed we were buried in the mountains, and I composed myself to sleep. A jog from the conductor awoke me, while we were driving through a gallery that equalled the boasted cuttings of the Simplon.—Looking out, I found we were on the coast again; and passing village after village in quick succession, we reached the gates of Genoa, amid a crowd of donkeys, and of market-people of both sexes, who profited by our arrival to enter the town.

You are to remember that I have promised nothing but the gleanings that are to be had after the harvests gathered by those who have gone before me. My task, therefore, is less one of minute and close description, than of desultory findings. This peculiarity may cause occasional meagreness of facts, and some apparent eccentricities of thought; for while I pretend to have gathered no more of what has been left by others than has come in my way, most of what I have actually seen is necessarily unrecorded, and on matters of opinion are commonly uttered when I have found reason to differ from the multitude.

At Genoa I remained two days. To the peculiar attractions of a port, and that too a port of the Mediterranean, where added the magnificence and glories of a capital. Every one has read of the palaces of this town, the Strada Balbi probably having no equal, in its way, in any other European capital. It is not wide, is without side walks, and but for the structures that line its two sides, would offer nothing remarkable. For more than a mile, however, it is a succession of edifices, that, in any other country but Italy, would be deemed fit for royalty. The Faubourg St. Germain has more large hotels, certainly; but the architecture is better here, and the material much superior to that in use in France. I should think that in the material point of gardens, the French capital has greatly the advantage. I entered several of these fine houses, which were generally remarkable for their marbles, staircases, and paintings. That of Sava is known all over Europe for a saloon that is covered with mirrors which reflect its half columns in a way to give it the air of a fairy palace. This room, when well lighted, must present an extraordinary sight; though it is rather small for its style of ornament. I have seen many rooms decorated in this mode, but never one with the blended magnificence and simplicity that are to be observed here. Generally the effect has been that of a toy,—a sort of German prettiness, or German conceit; but there was none of this in the Sava palace. The master of this noble house is not compos mentis, though quiet and harmless. He was seated over a brazier, in an ante-chamber, in the company of the ladies, as I passed through; and he rose politely to return my bow, muttering some words of compliment. It may be that he has a simple satisfaction in this amusement, but it struck me painfully. The antics of the carnival were acting in this fine street.

I saw the palace of the king, and some of the pictures; that of the Feast of Cana in particular. But the town, the scenery, and the port most attracted me. Genoa lies at the base of a hill, around the head of a large cove, which has been converted into a fine harbour by means of two moles. One quarter of the town actually stands on low cliffs that are washed by the sea, which must sometimes throw its spray into the streets. Its position consequently unites the several beauties of a gorgeous capital with all its works of art, the movement and bustle of a port, the view of a sea with passing ships and its varying aspects of calms and tempests, with a background of stupendous hills; for at this point the Alps send out those grand accessories to their magnificence, the Apennines. The place is fortified, and the nature of the ground requiring that the adjacent hill should be included, the enceinte is large enough to contain all Paris. On the side of the cliffs and at the moles, are water batteries; the entire port is separated from the town by a high wall, which, while it does little more in the way of defence than protect the revenue, offers a peculiarly beautiful promenade, which overlooks the busy and picturesque little haven. Towards the land the works are more regular, and are intended for defence. The ascent is rapid after one is out of the streets; and the walls, flanked by forts, follow the line of a ridge, that is shaped like an irregular triangle, which by falling off precipitously towards the country, supersedes the necessity of ditches.

I took a horse and made the circuit of the walls. The day was mild, but had passing clouds; and some of the views towards the interior were of an extraordinary character. A deep valley separated us from the district around the works; and there were several fine glimpses, in a sort of wild perspective, among the recesses of the mountains.—I scarcely remember a scene of more peculiar wildness blended with beauty, than some of these glimpses offered; though the passing clouds and the season perhaps contributed to the effect. The inland views resembled some of the backgrounds of the pictures of Leonardo da Vinci. Indeed, it is only in Italy, and among its romantic heights with their castle-resembling village and towns, that one first gets an accurate notion of the models that the older masters painted.

Seaward, the prospect from the apex of the triangle was truly glorious. The day was mild, and twenty sail was loitering along, quaint in their rig, as usual, and wallowing to the heavy ground swell. Here I got almost a bird’s-eye view of the town, port, and offing, with the noble range of coast southward, and a pile of purple mountains whose feet were lined with villages. I scarcely remember a day in Switzerland that was more fruitful of delight than this. As I descended to the highway, one of the royal equipages, a coach and six, with scarlet liveries, went by at a stately pace, followed by another with four, and several outriders. It added to the brilliancy of the foreground of the picture.

The large space between the town and the walls was nearly waste; though there stands a citadel, overlooking the former in a way to suggest the idea of offence, rather than of defence.—The streets in general are Moorish in width, many of them positively not being more than eight or ten feet in breadth. I had one or two encounters with donkeys loaded with panniers, a passage being frequently quite a Scylla-and-Charybdis matter. As the houses are six or seven stories high, it is like walking in the fissures of a mountain to walk in these streets. Of course carriages never attempt them. Still Genoa has many fine avenues besides the Strada Balbi.

I saw more street devotion in Genoa than I had previously witnessed in Italy, men on their knees in the streets being rather an unusual sight in Florence. The gambols of the carnival were much as usual; though Italian humour is both richer and stronger than that of France. This is in favour of the people, and shows that they have had a place in the world; for I take it the French are wanting in this peculiar quality of the mind from the all-absorbing moral as well as political superiority of the court.

The humour of France is nearly all military, as might be expected; and in this they are unequalled.