"I givetfie/e Books \ fci t}i.e. foimd'ng cf a. ColUi;^ In this Colo/vj'i «Y^ILE«¥]Mn¥E]^Sflir¥» Gift of F. Kingsbury Curtis 1925 TRAVELS ^^AW^a AMW lIFAmTg* IN 1817 AND 1818. BY » THE REV. WILLIAM BERRIAN, AN isSlSTANT MINISTEB OF TIQNITT CHUUCH, KSW-TOBIf jiTErr-rosK.- PRINTED BY T. AND J. SWOEDS, ITo. 160 Pearl-Street. 1821. Southern District of J\'exi)-York, is. Bb it REMEIVrBERED, that on the thJi-tieth day of January, io the forty-fifth year of the Independence of the United States of Ame- (L. S.) rica, William Berrian, of the said District, hath deposited in this office the title of a Book, the right whereof he claims as Author, in the words and figures following, to wit: " Travels in France and Italy, in 1817 and 1818, By the Rev. William Berrian, an Assistant Minister of "Trinity (Jhurcb, New-York." In confoi mity to the Act of the Congress of the United States, entitled, " An Act for the encouragement of Learning, by securing the copies of Maps, Charts, and Books, to the authors and proprietors of such copies, during the time therein mentioned ;" and also to an Act, entitled, '* An Act, supplementary to an Act, en titled. An Act for the encouragement of Learning, bj securing the copies of Maps, Charts, and Books, to the authors and proprietors of such copies, during the times therein mentioned, and extending the benefits thereof to the arts of designings engraving, and etching llistorical and other prints," ^ G. L. THOMPSON, Clerk of the Southern District of JVew-Torh TABLE OF CONTENTS. Voyage to France Page. 9 Rochelle 20 Journey to Bourdeaux 22 Bourdeaux 29 Journey to Toulouse 32 Toulouse 37 Montpellier 43 Nismes 46 Pont du Gard 52 Avignon 54 Fountain of Vaucluse 66 Marseilles 53 Toulon 61 Voyage from Frejus to Nice Nice 63'65 Voyage to Lerici 71 Journey from Lerici to Leghorn 76 Leghorn 78 Pisa 80 Journey to Florence Lucca 858S 6 CONTENTS. Pagft/ og Florence Journey to Rome ^^^ Rome 107 Excursion to Tivoli ^45 Rome 1^^ Journey to Naples 1^^ Naples 167 Pompeii l^'^'O Herculaneum 1'' Excursion to Pozzuoii and Baiae 179 Excursion to Vesuvius 197 Napl es 200 Excursion to Caserta 209 Return to Rome 215 Rome 222 Journey to Loretto 250 Loretto 261 Ancona 266 San Marino 274 Rimini 277 Ravenna 279 Journey to Bologna 281 Bologna 284 Ferrara 291 Arqua 297 Padua 299 Venice 303 Vicenza 317 Verona 320 CONTENTS, 7 Page. Mantua . 325 Parma 328 Placentia 335 Pavia 339 Milan 343 Italian character and manners 365 Journey to Arona 370 Arona 373 Passage of the Alps 376 Conclusion 384 TIIAVE.LS IN FRANCE AND ITALY. VOYAGE TO FRANCE. A State of great debility, and a slight tendency to consumption, occasioned in the first place by a cold, and increased by the exercise of my ministerial duties, made it necessary to take some prompt and decided measures for the recovery of my health. A sea voyage, and the mild climate of the south of Europe, it was thought would be most effectual. I lost no time in carrying this plan into execution, and on the 11th of October, 1817, I set sail for Bour deaux, in company with Beddingfield Hands, Esq. from the eastern shore of Maryland. The situation of my friend was much more alarming than my own. His journey was indeed a flight from the grave, which appeared already opening to receive him. Two Spaniards and a French gentleman, with the captain and mate, made up our whole society in the cabin. But the novel incidents of a sea voyage did not allow us, for some time, to feel its dulness. On the night of the 14th I was waked by a conversation of the mate with the captain. He 2 10 VOYAGE TO FRANCE.^ came below to mention, that the wind was browiTig- very strong. " How much sail is up.?" So, and soi- " If she cant bear that, then let ber go." The cap tain then very calmly went to sleep ; but not so his more anxious passenger. I made a vain attempt to call his attention ; but, upon a little reflection,, thought it better to be silent. Otir rough Dutch boatswain soon followed the mate, with a similar report; but he also met with a like dismission. Some time after he returned, and, in his hoarse voice, which seemed portentous, spoke to our drowsy commander again—" It is blowing harder and harder, squally, squally." The captain then shook ojBT his heaviness ; all hands were called on deck; noise and tumult ensued ; and I received a speedy initiation into some of the terrors of the rag ing sea. But my anxiety, it appeared, was only the apprehension of a novice We had a very heavy squall on the 17th, which threw the sea into great agitation, and gave it an air of uncommon grandeur. But much of what is said about the height of the waves in a storm, is only the exaggeration of a terrified fancy. We saw them at times foaming and raging with great fury, but never running mountains high Neither did the bound less extent of the ocean appear to rae as striking and magnificent as 1 had expected. Except in a perfect calm your vision is quickly limited. About four o'clock in the afternoon of this day there came on a most tremendous gale. To us the scene was new and terrific. The mind is thrown JBto a kind of disturbance, by a crowd of circum- TOYAGE TO PRANCE. 11 'Stances, in a storm, which no representation will excite in another. The noise of the waters, which every moment grew louder and louder; the whisthng and roaring of the winds; the flapping of the sails; the harsh voice of the speaking-trumpet; the hurry, bustle, and confusion of sounds ; the waves break ing over the ship, and sometimes rushing into the cabin; kept us for more than an hour in a state of anxiety and alarm. The storm continued, with very little abatement o'^its fury, for three hours ; the ship running only under two small stay-sails, with the helm lashed. From the 18th till the 29th scarcely any thing worthy of remark occurred, except that favourable winds had brought us as far as Cape-Finistere. When the weather was dry and pleasant, which was seldom the case for a day together, we tried to take a little exercise on deck, and to search for amuse ment even in trifles. But the greater part of Ihe time was spent in a kind of listless vacuity, without the disposition or power to apply the mind to any thing ; a state void of enjoyment, and which leaves no im pression behind it. I had taken out boots, 1 thought, for all the moods in which we can be thrown ; but I frequently found one in which every resource of this kind fails, i had Hooker and Butler with me; but they could scarcely be comprehended in tossing and tempest. Poetry might delight an excited imagination, were there Hot so rauch to dissipate its illusions; and story and adventure lose all their interest in the more immedi ate concern of passing events. Except in studying i2' VOVAfiK TO FItANCE. a Uttle French, examining an itinerary, or dipping into the travels of some person who had been over the ground that wevvere soon to tread, 1 may almost say 1 read nothing. Shortly after our entrance into the Bay of Biscay, the wind .shifted, and kept us beating about seven days. During this time the weather was generally mild and pleasant. When we came within a few hundred miles of the coast, we had a real source of amusement, in watch ing the different signs of our approach. The sight of a land bird, the swimming, of a blade of fresh grass, and every indication of our being nearer " the haven where we would be," gave us more pleasure than those who have never been at sea can perhaps conceive. And it was quite a diverting employment for many on board to catch the larks and sparrows that would fly to the ship for rest, and from weari ness would almost drop into their hands. But what gave us all most heartfelt joy, was the sight of land itself. This was on the 5th of November, after we had been twenty five days out. Our joy, however, was soon checked, by an unexpected circumstance. We could find no pilot to take us in. Three days and nights we were beating about on this perilous coas*, ignorant of our precise situation, and liable to greater dangers (as I afterwards learnt from the mate) than landsmen were aware of On the morn ing of the fourth day the captain, growing impatient of delay, resolved to enter the mouth of the Garonne, a most difficult and hazardous passage, without a pilot. VOYAGE TO FRANCE. IS Nov. 8th. I cannot recall the terrors of that day without pain, nor the mercies without gratitude to God. The wind was blowing very heavily from the west, directly on the coast, which made it almost im possible to get off again, if there should chance to be a mistake. The weather being somewhat hazy, the captain took a tower on the isle of Arvert, north of the Garonne, for the Cordouan light-house, in the mouth of the river, and made directly for the pas sage between Arvert and the isle of Oleron, which is filled with shoals and sand-banks; and which, according to the chart, had not water enough for the draft of our vessel. We were then running at the rate of eight or nine knots an hour. Mr. Hands was the first who discovered the error. He saw the Cor douan light-house below, and begged the captain to look at it. But not thinking himself bound to at tend to the suggestions of a passenger, he pursued his own course, till he received another warning, that he did not feel authorized to neglect. In a few minutes the mate called out from the mast-head, " Captain, you are too near the shore, and you are going wrong." We were, at this time, not more than two miles from the isle of Arvert, and, as it appeared by the chart, on a sand-bank. The waters were muddy, the breakers near, and the soundings lessening every moment. We were thrown into the utraost consternation, and our hearts sunk within us, when we heard the cry of *' seven fathoms," and " six and a half" In ten minutes more we would have been shipwrecked on the bank. The sails were instantly altered, and an endeavour was made to put 14 VOYAGE TO TRAWrJfl. about. It was a moment of dreadful suspense. W« saw the effort fail. We appeared to be drawing near the gates of death. Each one's fears were increased by the looks and exclamations of his neighbour. The panic even began to spread among the sailors. In order to increase the chance of success, in the next attempt to get off, it was necessary to give the «hip more headway, and to go still nearer the gulf, which appeared yawning to devour us. How did our hearts spring within us when we found this at tempt succeed ! Still, as we left this perilous lee^ shore very slowly, we rejoiced loith trembling. In a short time after our anxiety had subsided, we were again alarmed by a cry from aloft, of breakers ahead. Our ship, however, beat admirably to the windward, and we got clear of them. We were then running northerly, along the shores of Arvert and Oleron, and were still nearer than was safe. But comparatively we seemed to have little to appre hend. Joy for our deliverance was seen in every face, and mutual congratulations passed betweeii us. But our fears were very soon renewed, by another cry of breakers ahead. We could see them, in a long line on our right, dashing furiously over the rocks and sand-banks. This continual alternation of hope and fear was like the light of the gloomy day itself, which some times broke out amid the lowering of the storm. There was even a more cruel aggravation of what we suffered. The danger now before us, though terrific, was not inevitable, and yet it like to have TOYAGE TO FRANCE. Ij5 fetroyed us. But through all that day there was an instrument of mercy in the band of God, who coun teracted the evils which threatened us. Thus we escaped from these last breakers, when (as our mate afterwards told me) we were within half a cable'si length of theni, at four miles distance from the shore, and where, if we had struck, we would have proba bly perished. At length, about sun down, having weathered the island of Oleron, we got into Basque Roads, and came to anchor in a place which we were assured was safe, though the breakers apparently were still too near us. We went to bed in some uneasiness, from the apprehension that the wind might change, and the anchor drag. But the ship remained firmly at her moorings. It is irapossible to describe the painful and pro tracted agitation of this anxious day. 1 felt the power and mercy of God in all their force. 1 consi dered him not only as the Being with whom are the issues of life and death, but, as at that fearful mo ment, deciding which of these should be mine. It was a tumultuous state of feeling; but when 1 took up ray Prayer Book on the following day, after this storm of the mind had subsided, with the wind and violence of the ocean, and in the office to be used at sea, read the collect of thanksgiving and hymn of praise, it seemed as if my soul would melt withia me at the recollection of God's love. I thought that henceforth I would only live to praise ant! glo rify my Deliverer. And can I ever forget my im-' pressioos or my vows .f" 16 Voyage tO franCE. It is curious to retrace our emotions on an agitat ing occasion after we are at rest. I remeraber, in the first raoments of our danger, when there was rea son to fear we might instantly strike, that they were by no means as I would have expected. I gave one thought to my family and friends, and another to God, in whom I trusted ; but the objects before me occupied all the rest. I was watching intently every changing circumstance, catching hope or fear from the faces of those around me, and thinking of what was to be done in the worst event. And in the pro bable prospect of the horrors of shipwreck, I recol lect very well that ray feelings were deep and solemn, but without anguish or distraction. How it might have been, in actually realizing these horrors, I can not say, for there is a great difference between the faintest hope and the absolute extinction of it. Some ludicrous circurastances were also recalled. Not knowing what might happen, Mr. Hands and myself went down into the cabin, to secure our papers and raoney. I had two parcels of gold ; but thinking if we should have to swira, they might be a dangerous kind of freight, I said to hira, " Shall I take one or both ?" " Take both— take both." Two or three of the skipping Frenchmen too, who seemed as if they might go dancing to their graves, were for five rainutes still and serious. But no sooner had we turned our backs to the breakers, than the wild and merry Gascon renewed his capers. Nov. 9th. From the place where our vessel was lying we had a very extensive and pleasing view; the isles of Aix, Oleron, and Ree around us, and VOYAGE TO FRANCE. 17 Rochelle at a short distance on the coast. The former tvere low and sandy, and wanting in trees and herbage, but they were enlivened by cheerful villages and the motion of myriads of wind mills. The latter, with its ramparts and towers, had an air of great antiquity. Our curiosity is kept awake by the difference in the style of building, the aspect of the country, and the peculiarities in almost every object that meets the eye. This morning the pilot carae on board, to take us around the isle of Ree to safer raoorings. The alert spring whh which he darted from his shallop to the vessel, the bustling activity with which he gave his orders, and his good humour and gaiety, were so characteristic, as to make us feel that we were in a new region. It was pleasing to behold the face of a siranger, and much more of a person whom we had so lately longed for in vain. From our anchorage in the Breton passage we could see on one side the loyal, the brave, and chi- valric province of La Vendee, the distant glimpse of which calls up the most interesting recollections; on the other the isle of Ree, with several of its neat and beautiful towns directly in sight, and steeples of churches still farther off, denoting the situation of others. Two of these towns, L'Oie and La Flotte, are composed of houses built of white free-stone. St. Martins, which is strongly fortified and encom passed with walls, looks more gloomy and sub stantial. In the latter there is a conspicuous object that particularly attracts attention, an ancient church in ruins, with one tower complete, and another go- 3 18 VOYAGE TO FRANCE. ing to decay. On Tuesday evening the sun set most beautifully behind this town, imparting to the sky the richest and softest colouring, and diffusing a de licate tinge over every thing below. The raild light appearing through a window of the ruined tower, together with the distinct outUne which it gave to the whole building; the Stillness and tranquiUity of the scene before us, perhaps rendered still raore agreeable by a secret comparison with the rude and dangerous scenes through which we had lately pass ed ; and the kind of associations, awakened by the sight of an object that bore some resemblance to the images which ray own fancy had so often formed, brought my mind into a most peaceful and delight ful state. After watching it till it was almost lost in the dimness of twilight, the sound of the bell ringing for prayers reached us, and added to this placid en joyment the deep and solemn feelings of devotion. In the morning of this day we received the un pleasant information, that our quarantine, instead of being five days, as we had expected, was prolonged to fifteen. It was some corapensation to us to have better weather. There was a soft and renovating warmth in it which we could feel was doing us good. The 16th of Noveraber was the sixth Sunday since our departure frora New-York. From the nature of our corapany, and from their ignorance of the Eng lish language, there was no opportunity of sanctify ing the Sabbath, but in the secrecy of our own hearts. The Frenchmen and Spaniards, with a si«* gle exception, kept up their singing and endles* frivolity as on other days. VOYAGE TO FRANCE. 19 Nov, 20, Four days before the expiration of our quarantine the health-officer came out in a small boat near to our ship, and ordered all to make their appearance on deck. It was a call which we obeyed with alacrity. He remained a short distance from «s, made particular inquiries about the number of the passengers and crew, and run over the company with an inquisitive glance before he ventured to come on board. The precautions of the guardians of health in France are so minute and scrupulous as to appear ridiculous, though they may be wise and expedient. When the fishermen supplied us with provisions, they did not dare to bring their barque along side. They would, in the first place, sail around us, to receive our orders, always keeping off so far that we had almost to crack our lungs before they could understand us. Th^en, on their return, it was necessary to let down our jolly-boat, and shove her astern. They would put the things in her which had been procured for us, and after the boat was drawn up she was sent back again with the money. They did not dread the contaminating touch of this, though letters were always sprinkled with vinegar. These regulations are so curious, that they have di verted me from my narrative. We all strived to look as well as we could wheH the ofiicer came on board ; and even a poor enfeebled sailor, who had long lain in his hammock, crawled «pon deck, and put on a cheerful loolc, which was too languid, however, to be mistaken for the spright- liness of health. The man who was to fee our jailer or deliverer, stopped a little to examine this suspici- 20 ROCHELLE. ous face, but a good gloss being put upon the matter, he let it pass. After this review he told us our qua rantine was finished. This release from our bondage was so unexpected, that we received it with a child ish and extravagant joy. The afternoon was now somewhat advanced; but though Rochelle was twelve miles from our anchorage, most of us deter mined to get ready and go there that very night We were unwilling to return by a way where we had before been exposed to so much danger, and we apprehended new difficulties from the sickliness of one or two of the crew, when we should again be visited at Pauillac. ROCHELLE. In a short time we met a fishing boat, which came out of La Flotte, to take us to Rochelle. The wind was light, and we did not get up the harbour till past ten o'clock. The moon shone brightly, and gave a romantic effect to the old and ruinous towers which guard (or rather did in forraer times) the entrance of the city. From two of these a chain is extended at night across this narrow inlet. We found it already drawn up, as if to forbid our approach at so unsea sonable an hour. The fishermen left their barque, and took us in a row boat under the chain, but with a stillness and caution which made us apprehensive that something was wrong, and that we might be chaUenged by the guards. We had heard that per sons landing in violation of the quarantine laws were liable to be shot; and though we had been regularly ROCHELLE. 21 released, yet we had no certificate of dismission. However, the sentries raerely looked at us as we as cended the stone steps at the side of the tower, and suffered us to pass without molestation. They were dressed in long grey coats, with hats of a conical shape and of the same colour, and their singular appearance corresponded with the strangeness of every thing else around us. We walked on hastily through the antique streets till we reached the hotel. The gates, which were high and massive enough for an old castle, were opened by a porteress, who also looked as if she belonged to other years. In walking out the next raorning we beheld a world entirely new to us. The women of the lower class appear in the streets with high caps, projecting from each side, and generally terminating in a square platform. They also wear tight and long waisted jackets, with broad hipped petticoats tied around them, and wooden shoes. They are engaged in all kinds of laborious em()loyments; some in driving asses with their panniers filled with manure, or laden with faggots; others in carrying about fish, and ve getables, and fruits for sale. The costume of the men is more diversified, and though pet uliar, is less distinctive. Every where among this class we ob served the ruddiness of health, and often in the females a considerable degree of comeliness. There was but little interesting, however, in Ro chelle, except to a stranger who had never before seen an European city. Even the towers lost their grandeur by daylight. The cabinet of natural his tory is small, but well selected, and beautifully ar ranged. ' 22 JOURNEY TO >30URDEAUX. One of the most singular things that I saw here caught my attention in looking out of the chamber of our hotel when 1 got up in the morning. It was the Diligence. Figure to yourself as spacious and clumsy a vehicle as your meraory can recall among all the carriages of the most antiquated gentry of our country. Add to this the cabriolet, intended for the conducteur and one or two outside passengers, which is open in front, but sheltered by a cover; the ira perial, a large black case crowning the whole top, which is a receptacle for baggage ; and an immense basket behind for the sarae purpose, to which the coach bears about the same proportion as a pedlar to his pack. Get into this moving house, drawn at a dog trot by five horses, most sorrily harnessed, with drooping necks, and long tails tied up in a bunch, and you will have a tolerable idea of a French dili gence. It may seem like a caricature, but such was the impression it first made on me. JOURNEY TO BOURDEAUX. We remained two days at Rochelle, and then pro ceeded to Rochefort. On the side of the road to wards the sea there are extensive meadows for pas turage. We saw a great number of cattle grazing on them (an unusual circumstance in France), and some of the cows were of extraordinary size. In this part of the country there are neither hedges nor fences, which at first sight gives it a naked and SAINTES. 23 cheerless appearance; but apart from this circum stance it is without variety or beauty. RocHEFORT contains an extensive maritime arse nal. We applied to one of the officers for permission to see it. He told us that it was prohibited to stran gers. We thought, perhaps, it might enforce the request to mention that vve were Americans; but the order was general From the public garden, a plea sant and elevated promenade, we saw the long range of magazines, and ships of war lying in the Charente, and this empty satisfaction was all that we were al lowed in a place where our curiosity might have been so much gratified. The following day we proceeded to Saintes. In the evening we visited the triumphal arch which the people of Saintonge raised to the honour of Gerraanicus. It stands on a bridge which crosses the Charente. The silent touches of tirae have nearly obliterated the ornaraents of the arch, and it derives almost all its interest from its great antiquity, and .the fame, and worth, and misfortunes of the illustrious raan to whom it was reared. When we returned to our hotel, and took our seats at the public table, we reraarked a look and raanner towards us amounting to rudeness and impertinence. We had noticed the same kind of deportment in the corapany at Rochefort. This, said I to myself, is the consequence of that horrible revolution which not only subverted the political institutions of the country, but entirely changed the raanners of society. A new and vulgar race has sprung up, and instead of the ease, the courtesy, and finished elegance of 24 SAINTES. the old regime, we have the coarseness and brutality of the sans culottes. But I had entirely raistaken the cause of their incivility. Frora sorae gross observa tions on the mode of living in England, which were evidently pointed at us, it appeared that we were taken for Englishmen: for as soon as they discovered, from our travelling companions, that we were Ame ricans, there was a very striking change in their be haviour. The next raorning we procured a guide, who took us to some of the most remarkable places in the neighbourhood of Saintes. After having visited the ruins of the church of St. Seroine he conducted us to the burying-ground. The part which we first entered was open to the road, and only contained the graves of a few Protestants. The other, which was filled with Roman Catholics, was enclosed by a low and neat hedge. " There," said our guide, pointing to the latter, " lie the Christians, and here lie the Protestants." But there is very little to gratify curiosity in this neighbourhood, except the remains of a Roman am phitheatre. It is situated in a narrow dell, which runs towards the city. The form of it appears to be elliptical. The length of the greater axis is about 360 feet. Frora the top of the only arch that is en tire, which is probably 50 feet above the arena, the view is extreraely picturesque, and it receives a strong raoral interest from the reflections which na turally spring up in the mind. This arena, which had so often been filled with beasts, and perhaps with men, contending with each other ; which had SAINTES. 25 resounded with the clashing of weapons, the groans of the dying, and the shouts and acclamations of the spectators; is now converted into a peaceful field, where a boy was attending his sheep. On one side, still higher than the amphitheatre, were the remains, as it is supposed, of an ancient aqueduct ; nearly opposite to us, on the very edge of the walls, two cottages of a neat and rural appearance ; on the other side, within the arena, the fountain of St. Eus- telle ; and, on turning around, we had a view of the Gothic tower and spire of St. Eutrope, the sloping bank covered with gardens, and the green valley below, interrupted by an arched road, and terminated by the city of Saintes. Tradition relates, that Saint Eustelle was the daughter of a Roman praetor in the province of Saint onge, who, upon her embracing Christianity, was driven from her father's house, and took refuge with the Archbishop of Saintes. To this fountain, which is beneath a recess in the side of the hill, and covered by a simple arch, she constantly retired to hold communion with heaven. The choice of such a place for a sacred oratory was singular ; and whether the legend be true or fabulous, the contrast between the peaceful fountain of St. Eustelle and this place of tumult and blood, gives us a real and increased pleasure. In the afternoon we visited the ruins of a Roman bathing-house, and saw some coins which had been found there of the reigns of Vespasian and Antoni nus. In the evening we went to hear a Roman Ca tholic missionary at St. Peter's. But his delivery 26 SAINTES'. was so rapid and vehement, that it was difficult te a full and distinct view of the Pyrenees, from Perpignan 4o Bayonne. They live in a kind of rustic simplicity and elegance which charmed me. The dining-room is very large, and hung around with family portraits. An immense fire place, which admits of a chair in each corner, was crackling with the most cheerful blaze 1 had seen in France. Mr. Bellegarde's inquiries about our comraon friends called up all my recollections of horae, and in hearing a voice, and seeing a face so farailiar, I alraost forgcut that I was so far from it. With the sisters also, I had a great deal of conversa tion on our respective religions, where I found them as ready to communicate information as to ask it. One of them, who had been much in the world, and spent some time at Rome, was of an enlarged and Mberal turn of mind, but yet strongly 'attached to her own faith. She could not help expressing the hope, that my visit to the Holy See might lessen the dif ference between us. As to the old ladies, they took no part in these matters, but talked unoeas-ingly of madame mafemme^ ma petite Jille, et petit garcon. At the close of this most interesting day, I felt a satisfac tion and delight whicli can only be produced by the kindness of friends among a nation of strangers. , In the morning, after a few more pleasant hours, I left the chateau de Bellegmde, with an uncommon regret, which seemed to be sincerely reciprocated. They all pressed me to return and spend some days SB JOURNEY TO TOtJLOUSE. with them in the spring, and then to go to the waters of Bareges. I made a conditional promise to do so, if my route should lie within any reasonable distance of their hospitable mansion. The cathedral at Auch is a superb specimen of the Gothic style, and in magnitude, curious workman ship, richness, and splendour, surpassed the Metro politan church at Bourdeaux. The painted windows, representing historical parts of scripture, monkish legends, and fanciful figures and decorations, shone with a beauty and briUiancy that might alraost vie with the colours of the rainbow, and at the sarae tirae only admitted a softened Ught, well suited to a place of meditation and prayer. There was a vastness and solemnity in this church, which might serve to fill the mind with higher ideas of the Being who was worshipped there. But striking as it appeared, it had been shorn of its brightness in the French revo lution, and those who spoke of it, seeraed to feel soraething like the Israelites, who remembered their temple in its first glory. The country through which we passed from Auch to Toulouse was less beautiful, but the Pyrenees were almost constantly in sight. Their rugged sides being streaked with snow, and their pointed summits entirely covered with it, presented a singular appear ance of light and shade, as well as of novelty and grandeur. S7 TOULOUSE. This is a large and populous city, but the streets are so irregular, that We were lost in thera at every turn. We scarcely ever went a hundred yards from our hotel without being under the necessity of in quiring the way back again. But besides the irre gularity of the streets, they are dark and glooray, and so wanting in cleanliness as to be intolerable even in raid-winter. The Capitolium, or Hotel de Ville, is the only public building we saw which ap-^ peared to have any degree of beauty or elegance. As it was darap and rainy during the greater part of the time we staid there, we should not have been dis posed to be very minute in our observations, even if there had been raore to provoke our curiosity. From the softness of the air, the climate of this place is said to be salubrious, and many English families are accustomed to make it their winter residence. We may have seen Toulouse under an unfavourable as pect, but it did not appear to us to possess a single attraction. The promenade along the great canal of Languedoc, which is here connected with the Garonne, is shady and pleasant. There is another interesting walk on the hills in the environs, where the battle was fought, in 1814, between Lord Wel^ lington and Marshal Soult This useless and bloody contest, which, it has been thought, arose frora the eagerness of the generals to try each others bravery and skill, even after the news of peace had reached 38 TOULOUSE. them, might make it a melancholy ramble, were not every trace of destruction and carnage so completely lost. We walked over the ground, and from a de scription of the affair, together with plates, showing the position of the two armies, and the different points of attack, we were able to form a good idea of the battle. On Sunday I attended the service of the French Protestant church. The minister wore a gown and bands, and conducted the worship of the people by a liturgy. The only extemporary prayers were im mediately before and after serraon, I was pleased with the warrath and earnestness of the preacher, but shocked by the levity and indecorum of "the congregation. On entering the church there was no reverent composing of the mind for the solemnities of the place. Before the service talking was carried on not in a suppressed voice, but almost in the tones of ordinary conversation. During the serraon many of the people wore their hats ; and when it was over, they hurried away without a pause to suppli cate God's blessing on what they had heard. Op pression and persecution, it might have been thought, would have produced an ardent zeal. But, on the contrary, the apparent devotion of the Roman Ca tholics, and the cold indifference of these people, formed a singular contrast, and I should not think that a person dissatisfied with Popery would find himself much impressed by such an exhibition of Protestantism. In the afternoon I went there again, expecting to find a divine of the same church ; but was surprised TOULOUSE. SS and delighted on entering to hear the endeared sounds of our own liturgy, and to see all that deco rum and respect in the worshippers, for which they are so much distinguished. I felt at horae, in the bosora of ray own communion, and seemed to be in the society of my friends, though they were not even my countrymen. About thirty or forty EngUsh peo ple were assembled, and Mr. Ellison, an Irish clergy man, officiated. He preached from the text, thy will be done. It was a clear, able, and impressive dis course, delivered in a grave and chastened manner, but yet with force and animation. He read the ser vice also with great propriety and devotion. Dec. 16th. To-day we hired a cabriolet to take us to Castelnaudary. It seemed as if every voiturin in the place knew that we were pressed for tirae, and was in concert with his neighbour to take advantage of our necessity. We could not get a conveyance for thirty-five miles under fifty francs, which we were afterwards told was three times as much as it was worth. The noble chain of the Pyrenees presented itself at alraost every elevation of the road. But we were much disappointed with the level, naked, and uninteresting appearance of this part of Languedoc. The next day we took passage for Carcassonne on the canal. It is a most irksome mode of travelling, and, to relieve the taedium, 1 frequently got out of the boat and walked. As it is very economical, the cora pany of course is less select. To escape frora such a beggarly set as chance threw in our way, was another reason for my preferring the land. There was no difficulty in keeping up with the boat, nor 40 TOULOUSE. even in getting far ahead of it, hr though we set out before day-break, we did not arrive at Carcassonne, a distance of only twenty-four miles, till towards evening. The canal of Languedoc is an object of great curi osity to strangers, and of immense importance to the country, both frora the revenue which it yields, and the facilities it affords to coraraerce. It was planned and executed by M. Ricquet, in the reign of Louis the fourteenth. This great undertaking was begun in 1666, and finished in 1680. It was first intended to supply it by the waters of the Garonne, but the elevation of sorae parts of the country, through which it was to pass above the river, made thid scheme impracticable. At Narouse, which is the highest point between the two seas, there is a basin 1200 feet long and 900 broad, which is always filled with water to the depth of seven feet. Another was made at St, Ferreol, 7200 feet long, 3000 broad, and 120 deep, two sides of which are formed by two mountains, and the third by a strong mole. This communicates with the former by means of an aque duct, and that with the canal by sluices. These basins have a perennial supply from the springs in the moun tains. The canal is 60 feet in breadth, six in depth, and 150 miles in length. When the gates are near each other, the space between thera, both on the bottora and sides, is lined with solid cut stone ; or, if they stand alone, they are defended each way, for perhaps a hundred feet, in the sarae raanner. Grace ful stone bridges are frequently thrown across the canal, and small intersecting streams in deep beds TOULOUSE. 41 are carried under arches beneath. On the way from Narbonne to Beziers, a passage of seven hundred feet long is pierced for it through the solid rock. It is indeed a grand and magnificent work, connecting the Mediterranean and the Atlantic seas, but perhaps it will be surpassed, both in magnitude and conse quence, by the great canal of our own state. ~Within about twelve mUes of Narbonne the coun try grew raore beautiful. Olive trees, fine vineyards, and greater variety in the surface of the grounds, reheved the eye, after the dull uniformity of the plain through which we had lately passed. Winter is seen in the south of France more distinctly than I had expected, though not in the dreariness and desolation of our frozen clime. The pale green leaf of the olive faintly smiles in the decay of nature. The mulberry tree does not lose its foliage, but it is, in a great measure, stripped off to furnish food for the silk worm. The fields of grain partially enliven the general waste. It is a mild region, but not the seat of perpetual spring. In this part of our journey the bent of the olive trees, and the uniform direction of their leaves and branches, show that it is some times subject to winds more lasting and violent than our own. The soil here is, in many places, of a deep red, and the enormous stem of the close cut grape vines is a proof of its strength. At Narbonne we again met Mr. Dueerf, with whora we had travelled from RocheUe to Bourdeaux. It is delightful to see any face in a foreign land that we have ever seen before. In the present instance 6 42 BEZIERS. our pleasure was gRpater than common, for this gen tleman seeraed alraost Uke a farailiar friend. He had bestowed on us many Uttle attentions which were not only gratifying but useful, and took us, as it were, under his protection. Our country was the ground of his predilection, and wherever we went he was at sorae pains to remove prejudices against us, by making it known that we were Americans, He was a man of a playful and good humoured countenance, of frank and engaging raanners, intel ligent, coraraunicative, sociable, and kind; in short, one of those persons of whom only a few are neces sary to change our impressions of a whole people, to convert dislike into partiality, and contempt into adrairation, Beziers, situated on a lofty erainence, and sur rounded by high walls, has an appearance of great strength, and in former tiraes might have been im pregnable. It is now a place of little importance. The streets are of a toilsome steepness, irregular, and filthy. The walk on the terrace above is plea sant even at this season, but in summer the surround ing country is said to be delightful. We went to examine here the greatest faU in the canal of Lan guedoc, which is so considerable as to require nine gates. The district between Beziers and Montpellier is extreraely rich and well cultivated, and is justly considered the garden of France. The wines of this part, and particularly of Lunel, have a high re putation. When we first came in sight of Montpel lier, we were charraed with the view of the city and its beautiful environs. 4? MONTPELLIER. I liad letters here to two or three persons, which firocured rae a profusion of civil sayings, and pro mises of service and kindness, but which were all vox et preterea nihil. The Esplanade is a pleasant ¦public walk, but the Place du Peyrou is one of the most elegant in Europe. It is elevated a little above the city, and supported by a handsome stone wall, which rises to the level of the square. To the north is a kind of semicircular valley, with gentle sloping hUls rising behind, and sweeping around to the east. till they run out into the sea. A noble aqueduct, with a double range of arches, stretches across it, and terminates at the Place du Peyrou, in a large foun tain covered by an open and graceful rotundo. Water, gushing from every side, runs over mossy stones, ar tificially disposed to resemble nature. On the south we behold the Mediterranean, and on the west raore faintly the distant Pyrenees. In the cathedral we saw an esteemed picture of Bourdon, and in the school of medicine, the anato mical preparations in wax, of the celebrated Fontana. All the wonders of the huraan frarae are here repre sented, with a beauty, minuteness, and fidehty, which show the most patient labour and astonishing skiU in the artist. There was one thing, however, at Montpellier of more than ordinary interest, the grave of Narcissa, the daughter of Young. Every one recollects his 44 MONTPELLIER. feeling lines on her clandestine interment. " Stran gers to kindness wept," but yet they would not give her a place for burial, " For oh ! the curst ungodliness of zeal ! " While sinful flesh relented, spirit nurst " In blind infallibility's embrace, " Deny'd the charity of dust, to spread " O'er dust ! a charity their dogs enjoy. " What could I do ? what succour? what resource l " With pious sacrilege a grave I stole; " With impious piety that grave I wrong'd ; " Short in my duty; coward in my grief! " More like her murderer than friend, I crept, " With soft suspended step : and muffled deep " In midnight darkness whispered my last sigh." The body rests under an arch in the botanical garden. The fiends of the French revolution, who envied even the repose of the dead, destroyed the monument which had been raised over the grave ; and there is not now as much as that slight elevation of the ground, which tells us, in the absence of mar ble and inscriptions, that here lie the ashes of the departed. Among all the strangers who have since visited this place, not one has been found to raise another monument, and the first proposition for this purpose, has been recently made by Talma, a famous French actor. He offered a hundred louis d'or towards this object, but I am ignorant whether any have imitated so generous an example. With the exception of two or three broad streets, which are neat and handsorae, and some fine houses in others, which are so narrow that we could shake hands across thera, there is nothing to distinguish MontpelUer from raany other cities of less note, but MONTPELLIER. 45 its advantageous position, public walks, and salubri ous climate. It has even lost the latter recommenda tion, with respect to pulmonary complaints, and va letudinarians no longer rest, till they have felt the more genial influences of an Italian sky. The weather was soraewhat mild while we reraained here, but it is very subject to the vent de bize, or north west wind, and the chilly wind from the sea. The one being dry and piercing, and the other charged with vapours, they are equally unfavourable to the invalid. We lodged at the Hotel du Midi. We breakfasted and dined at the table d'hote, occupied together a single charaber, in which we kept a fire, and in all respects lived siraply and econoraically, but yet our daily expenses were twelve francs apiece. Having spent several days very pleasantly at Mont pelUer, we left it on the 24th, for Nismes. The wea ther was rainy and disagreeable, and the tedious pace of the horses would have been insufferable, had not our time been beguiled by the eccentricities of an English gentleman, whora we had raet with two or three tiraes on our route, and by the political discus sions of sorae Frenchmen, who were in the coach with us. One of them took a ground, which we had not found maintained by any other person since our arrival in France. Every where we had heard com plaints against the oppression of the allies, regrets at the recent changes, sighs at the departure of their glory, reproaches and execrations almost against the man who had raised it to the highest pitch, and then, by a frantic ambition, sported with his own work, and 46 NISMES, lost' more than he had won. But this person openly opposed his companions, exculpated the measures of the reigning monarch, defended the policy, and in sisted upon the necessity of the occupation of France by the allied armies. NISMES. Nismes is chiefly interesting on account of the relicks of its ancient importance, under the govern ment of the Romans. The old streets are crooked, narrow, close, and offensive ; but there is a taste for improvement here, and in the modern parts of the city, they are sometimes wide and elegant. The amphitheatre has resisted so well the ravages of time and war, that it will doubtless continue to gratify the curious for ages to come. The whole of this edifice is coraposed of prodigious blocks of stone, put together without cement, and fastened only by cramps of iron. The form of it is elliptical, and the order of the architecture Tuscan. The great diameter, which runs from east to west, is 405 feet; the shorter, firom north to south, is 317 feet; the height is 66 feet; the circuraference 1140 feet. The first story is an open portico, consisting of 60 arcades, all radiating frora the centre, and serving as so many gates for ad mission into the amphitheatre. The second story is like it, Tuscan pilasters fill up the space between the lower arcades, and columns the upper. Above is a simple attic, without openings of any kind, and NISMES. 47 almost without ornament. The cornice of this is pierced at certain distances with holes. In these the posts were placed to support the tents, which sheltered the spectators frora heat and rain. It is supposed that seventeen thousand persons could have been accommodated in this amphitheatre. The exterior is almost perfect. Within it is in a more ruinous state, but the corridors are entire, and are only encumbered occasionally with a few fallen stones. So many of the vomitories stiU reraain, and so many of the seats rising above one another in regular order, and enlarg ing their circuit as they ascend, are still in their original situation, that we were enabled to forra a very just idea of its internal structure. We ranged through the winding galleries, passed through the inlets, which in raany places were almost choaked with rub bish, clarabered over the mouldering arches, and mounted the steps, which in one part were better pre served than the rest, till we reached the summit ; and there, whilst we contemplated this majestic ruin, our recollection of the purposes to which it was devoted, was almost lost in our admiration of the solidity and grandeur of the work. The Maison Carree is built on a very sraall scale, but it is esteemed a model of architectural beauty. It is so called, because the forra of it is an oblong square, and because the original designation of it hav ing been a raatter of dispute among antiquaries, they were ignorant till lately of its proper narae. When the Abbe Barthelemy examined this edifice, he re marked on the frieze and the architrave, that there l«ad been two inscriptions in letters of brass fastened 48 NISMES. by nails. The metal had been torn off, but the marks of the nails were still visible. It occurred to hira, that by these marks it might be possible to make out the inscriptions, and on his return to Nismes he proposed to have a scaffolding raised, and to test the truth of his conjectures. This, however, he neglect ed ; but in a dissertation which he afterwards read in the Academy of Belles Lettres, he offered those hints, which he had before given privately to his friend Count Caylus. M. de Seguier, foUowing up the in genious idea of the Abbe, very satisfactorily ascer tained the inscriptions, and the Maison Carree was found to be a temple consecrated to Caius and Mar- cius, the adopted sons of Augustus. This admired structure rests on a base of cut stone, raised a few feet above the ground. The portico is supported by ten columns, sixin front and two on each side. Twenty others, partly sunk in the walls, run around the building. They are fluted with an attic base, and Corinthian capitals. These are beautifully decorated with olive leaves, instead of the acanthus. The architrave, the frieze, the cornice of the sides and rear, are richly sculptured, but the entablature and pediment of the portico are not so much labour-, ed. These minute and finished ornaments are crum bling away. The whole is tarnished, and hastening to that ruin, which, from its frail and delicate appear ance, we are surprised has not long since overtaken it. The people of Nismes, whom the Abbe Barthe lemy accused of barbarism for their neglect of this reraain, now glory in the elegance, the syrametry, and grace of the Maisen Carree. They were putting NISMES. 49 a new roof on it, while we were there, and employ ing every means to preserve it. The fountain of Nismes has been adorned with more labour and expense than taste. This copious source first fills a large basin of fanciful construction, and then flows through a garden set off with vases, ancient and modern statues, trees, and shrubbery. The stone waUs and balustrades which line the basin and channels, and a too formal arrangeraent of the garden, might offend the eye by their artificial ap pearance, were it not immediately relieved by the steep and cragged rocks, which rise abruptly behind it, and by an extensive view of a pleasant and fertUe country in front. The ruins of the temple of Diana on one side of the fountain, and a solitary tower on the height, increase the beauty of this charming promenade. On Christmas morning I went to the Protestant church, and in the first service was once more shocked by the levity of the people. But the behaviour of those who remained to receive the communion, pro duced a very different impression. These formed a large proportion ef the congregation, five-sixths or seven-eighths of whom were women. Before the. celebration, an old clergyman delivered a familiar address, with so much earnestness, with so much sim* pUcity, and in tones so tender and feeling, his voice being choaked almost by the excess of his own emo« tions, that he touched the hearts of his hearers; and their grief not only showed itself in tears, but even broke out in sobs. He then came down from the pulpit, and a young clergyman assisted him in ad* 7 50 NISMES. ministering the elements. The men advanced first, in small groups, to the right of the altar, and, en tering the chancel, stood' before the table with heads hurably inclined. A few words, which I was too far off to hear, were addressed to each of them ; and after they had received, they gave place to others, and passed out to the left. There was great deco rum and reverence in the manner of the communr- cants; and almost all, in withdrawing frora the table, seemed penetrated with the affecting solemnity, and returned to their seats in tears. This unexpected and edifying spectacle softened, in some degree, my harsh opinion of the Protestants of France. In Nismes they are very numerous, making up one- third of the population. As we were leaving the church, our ears were assailed by the most importunate cries from' a mise rable wretch, who was exposing the stump of a sore arm, to excite the commiseration and charity of those who were passing. Such hideous sights are not uncommon in France; and sometimes we meet with beggars along the streets so shockingly deform ed, that our pity is overpowered by disgust and horror. In the afternoon I went to the cathedral. But the crowd was so great, and the church so difficult to fill, that I lost alraost all the sermon, though the preacher's voice was loud and distinct. In order to hear him better, I had gone up into the gallery among the blind and superstitious populace. As soon as he had finished, the service was renewed, and I stood leaning over the balustrade, observing very atten- NI'SMES.. 51 dvely the ceremonies at the altar. Presently the host was elevated, and a man cried out behind me, ^* a genoux." I took no notice of it, and appeared not to undCTStand hira. A moment after he said to me, ^ It is very unbecoming not to bow the knee at the elevation of the host," I made sorae brief reply, which did not seem to soothe hira. The crowd cast fierce looks at me. I recollected the persecution of Nismes, and retreated with precipitation. Having no longer the friendly annunciation of Mr. Dueerf, frora whom we had finally parted at Mont pellier, we were again taken for Englishmen at the table d'hote, and subjected to some disagreeable con sequences from this mistake. Indeed it was not merely reserve and incivility that we met with here, but raillery and insult. There was something, how ever, so droll in the manner of it, that had my own character, or my friend's prudence, perraitted us to resent it, we would have found it almost impossible. A fellow at the head of the table, with a singular talent for raimickry, undertook to give an account of the travels of Milord Anglais in France. A coarse and burlesque story, in broken French, with a true John Bull accent, was narrated so happily, that it produced general merriment among the French, and scarcely less in ourselves, against whom it was di rected. But 1 longed for a pleasant revenge, and would have given any thing to have had a humour ous friend of mine there, to match him with Mon sieur Tonson. The satirist afterwards discovering who we were, and that his wit had lost its point, was exceedingly mortified and embarrassed. S% PONT DU GARD. Mr. PiUton, our English corapanion, perceiving it, took shelter frora these gibes under the character of our corapatriot, and talked of our President and our affairs like a true American. With a warm and ho nest heart, he had all the stout prejudices which fre quently characterize his countrymen ; and he seemed to travel not to remove but to confirm them He was a lover of quiet, however, who came, like ourselves, in pursuit of health, and not to fight his way through a hostile land. In his heart he had such a contempt for the French as they might affect towards him, but could not feel; still ridicule, where repartee might be dangerous, and resentment unavaiUng was irk some, and therefore he gladly adopted this artifice to get rid of it. PONT DU GARD. We left Nismes, in company with this gentleman, for Avignon. Near Remoulins we got out of our car riage to go to the Pont du Gard, which stands in a lonely spot, a raile and a half from the public road. It is part of an ancient aqueduct, which formerly con ducted water, from two fountains near Usez, to the city of Nismes. It rises in a triple range of arches to an iraraense height, and strides over the river Gar* don with the steps of a giant. When we came sud denly in sight of this bold and stupendous monument of Roman power, in a place so still and secluded, and observed the great masses of stone with which it PONT DU GARD. 53 is built, piled upon each other without cramp or cement, the bold sweep of the arches, the towering height, the eating and rust of time preying upon it for so many ages, and yet a strength so unbroken as seemed to defy its power, we were impressed beyond measure by its solitary grandeur. We clambered up the side of the mountain against which one end of the aqueduct rests, and passed along the conduit where our footing was firm, but where the covering had fallen, and the walls had gone to decay. For a few paces we proceeded on this exposed and narrow path with some trepidation, but we soon gained the covered part, and walked in safety. In the whole length of the conduit, which is about eight hundred feet, there are apertures, at small distances, to give light to repair it when it was out of order. We got through one of them, on the very top of the aqueduct, and walked along till we were directly over the mid dle of the river. The passage was eleven feet wide, and the height above the water one hundred and sixty feet, without a single break to relieve the eye. The country immediately around was wild, and the point from which we viewed it made it sublirae. The banks of the Garden rose to a kind of raountaino"us grandeur. Behind us the river was soon lost in its windings, but before it was flowing for some distance through a more level and cultivated country ; and quite in reraote perspective we could perceive the mountains of Cevennes. 54 AVIGNON. Towards evening we drew near to Avignon. It is situated on the eastern bank of the Rhone, and rises, with an easy ascent, considerably above the river. The regular battleraents of the walls with which the city is surrounded, the square towers which defend them at all points, and the antique churches, with their steeples appearing in vast masses above them,. make the view of Avignon, as we approach it, very imposing ; and the effect of it is increased by the rapid stream of waters which passes beneath, the broken and hilly grounds on the western bank of the river, and by the scene being caught in glimpses through the trees and in the turns and undulations of the road. The interiour of the city does not fulfil all that this view promises. The streets are without any plan, but less crooked and cramped than in several places through which we had lately passed, We employed a good deal of time here in hunting after curiosities, which our itinerary pointed out to the traveller, but which perpetually eluded our search. The palace of the Popes, during their residence at Avignon, still reraains. It is a lofty and irregular pile, surraounted by towers, and looks raore like a place of strength, built by sorae wariike chieftain, in a turbulent age, than the abode of the ministers of peace. Part of it is now occupied as a prison ; the rest is suffered to go to ruin. When we visited AVIGNON. 55 it on Sunday, the populace were amusing themselves in the inner court with a bear fight. The Metropolitan church, a few paces from the palace, is despoiled and forsaken. We were here shown the chapel of the Popes, that of Charlemagne, and the tomb of John XXII. The body of the fair Laura, so celebrated by the love and sonnets of Petrarch, was interred in the ancient church of the Cordeliers; but this church suffered so much from the French revolution, that her remains, together with those of the brave CrUlon, were, in consequence, reraoved elsewhere. Our guide assured us that the body of Laura had been transferred here, and pointed out the very niche in which it was deposited. We were afterwards conducted, upon better inforraation, to a private garden, where it was said these interesting relicks had really been conveyed. Two young cypresses, one at the head, and the other at the foot, were the only meraorials of this doubtful grave. In the Maison des Insensees we saw some good paintings by Mignard and Puget, and an adrairable crucifixion, in ivory, by GuUlarmin. The sufferings of our Lord appeared in the swell of the muscles, in the contraction of the hands and feet, in the ex pression of agony in his eyes, his countenance, and every part of his frame. But with all this strength there was no violent and unnatural distortion. His anguish was softened by a patience and resignation becoming the dignity of the Lamb of God. In this brief and imperfect account of Avignon, I ought not to forget a deUghtful view from the Rucher -66 FOUNTAIN Oi' VAUCLUSE. de Don, an eminence above the cathedral, of the city under our feet, a luxuriant and populous vale, the rapid Rhone, interrupted in its course by seve ral islands, and the Durance diverging from it, an extensive range of snow-capped mountains on one side, and a dark semicircular sweep on the other; forming altogether a rich and magnificent landscape. Nor ought I, perhaps, to omit another extraordinary sight, the prettiest woman 1 had seen in France, fantastically dressed in loose trowsers and laced boots, and mounted on horseback a ta mode des hommes. FOUNTAIN OF VAUCLUSE. On the following day I went out, through a violent and piercing wind, to see the fountain of Vaucluse. The road passes over a beautiful plain, which is co vered with a population proportioned to its fertUity. But the excessive cold which penetrated my whole frame, and the snow which 1 saw on the mountains of Dauphitiy before me, scarcely permitted me to enjoy the scene. At ten mUes from Avignon I reached the rocky and narrow passage through which the Sorgue flows, whose waters all gush from the fountain of Vaucluse. It is a small stream, though dignified with the name of a river, but so clear and transparent that 1 could plainly see at the bottom the green weeds and plants that overspread its bed. The hills on one side are partially covered with olive trees FOUNTAIN OF VAUCLUSE. 61 and grain ; on the other, they are dreary, nnked, and barren. As I drew nearer to the fountain, the river became more rapid and nois}'', and the rocks more varied and grotesque. On a lofty point to the right, which seemed inaccessible, were the ruins of the house once inhabited by the Archbishop of the pro vince, and below, a small hamlet on the margin of the stream. All these objects received an additional charm, frora the recollection that this was the fa vourite haunt of Petrarch and Laura. I went into the garden which she had cultivated with her own hands, but it had now no other attraction than her name gave it. A little higher up is the fountain itself It is si tuated at the foot of a rock, which rises perpendicu larly 600 feet, and covers the bottom of a large vaulted grotto. When I saw it the waters were remarkably low, and instead of coming in a torrent frora the mouth, they oozed out, at a distance frora the source, in numberless rills, through the earth and crevices of the rocks. Notwithstanding this unfavourable cir cumstance, and the coldness and desolation of win ter, it was still very interesting ; but, in the spring, when it rises and rushes in one mass over the barrier which confined it, bounding and foaming in its im petuous course, it must be enchanting. After such a feast for my eyes, 1 had a dinner of trout caught in the waters which flow from the fountain. m MARSEILLES, tVe left Avignon on the 30th, and just before night reached the elevation on the road which commands So noble a view of Marseilles. It is more than half encircled by mountains, rising abruptly atid grandly around it ; the slopes at their feet are brightened with inniunerable country houses, which thicken as ihef descend to the suburbs, and are at length confounded ivith the city ; and the gulf spreads out majestically beyond it. It was dark bieforewe entered MarseiUes. The long line of Ikmps Suspended over our heads, the ex- traorditiary height and regularity of the houses, and the breadth of the stireets, gave it an air of splendour and consequfence, which it did not lose in the light bf day. Order and beauty prevail in every part of ihe new town, arid we walk in it with ease and Freedom. Exciepting the flat roofs, and the more cheerful appiearance of the houses, thelre is nothing temarkable in them individually; but their loftiness, their uiiiforrnrty, and their extent in direct lines, pro duce a great degree of elegance in the general com- tiination. The streets, for the most part, intersect each other at right angles, and some of them are much more open and Spacious than any t have seen in France. They are well paved in the middle with flat square stones, and the side walks vvith small bricks, which are pressed so compactly together (their edges being turned upwards), that they are scarcely MARSJSlLLESc 59 cever uneven or out of iplaoe. Thegrand quay, vvhere all the vessels land "their cargoes, is paved in the same neat way, and that part of the city which is commonly so noisome and unpleasant, vis here a 'beautiful public walk. It forms three sides of an im mense square, faced by stores and warehouses. The basin is crowded with vessds-; we see the colour^ of almost all nations ; we meet Greeks, if not -harbari- an&, and hear so many different people speaking in iheir own tongues, ft is always a lively and bustling scene, and there is the same difficulty ,io jostling through the crowd, which assembles on week days for business, or the multitudes who throng.it on Sun days for pleasure. Back of the quay of St, Nicholas a steep path leads to a ^promenade on a high terrace £)rmed out of the rock, from which there is-a.fidl and charming view of the city, .the rural enyirorjs, the rugged mountains behhadthem, the harbour, the isle d'lf, and the sea beyond it. The fort de Notre Damn de la Garde is at a considerable elevation above the terrace. An oratory is built on the way, to give ap opportunity to those who come to enjoy the prospect for an hasty act of devotion. The Course, a long wide street, is a more frequented and fashionable walk. In one part of it, a great number of women are ranged on each side, with flowers and fruits for sale. The Allees de Meilhan, which run from the Course towards the suburbs, have the advantage of shade and retirement. We took a turn in them on a festi- ral, and found agreat display of the beau mondeithere. The ladies were all showing themselves in their best 60 MARSEILLES. attire, according to the custom of the Carnival, and courting adrairation by their elegance and vivacity. The common people were amusing themselves in a different way. They were collected together before a temporary stage, to attend a kind of theatrical ex hibition, and every few moments, the droU grimace and coarse buffoonery of the actors were followed by bursts of laughter and applause, A stranger can have no conception of the many methods that ate contrived to divert thelevity of this thoughtless people. We have seen, more than once, under our window, a corapany of dancing dogs, tricked off in female dress, and coaxed and whipped into a curious jig. Scarcely is dinner served up at a table dUiote before we are saluted by the sound of a violin or guitar, or by the voice of some female singer, and immediately after a small contribution is levied on each person present, which is generally j>aid with cheerfulness. At one time our attention wiU be called from our plate, to feats of agUity ; at another, a dwarf will enter, to give us an account of his age, of the place of his nativity, of the great per sonages who have seen him, and not only adraired his diminutive form, but the justness of his propor tions. The number of agreeable acquaintances I formed here, in consequence of ray letters, would have made the tirae pass very pleasantly, had not a slight return of ray cough, and sorae pain in the breast, renewed my uneasiness. They were brought on again by too much exposure to the mistral, which had been blow ing almost constantly from the time we left Mont- TOULON. 61 pelUer till we arrived at Marseilles. This cold and piercing north-west wind is dreaded not only by in valids, but shunned even by those who are well. From the state of the weather, and the necessity I was under of attending to my health, 1 was not able to examine the pubUc buildings, the literary and benevolent institutions, and many curious and inter esting objects, except in a very partial and hasty manner. After remaining about a week at MarseUles, we proceeded to Toulon. We set out in the Diligence at a very early hour in the morning, and from some mismanagement were corapelled to take seats in the cabriolet. The air was so sharp and penetrating, that it was scarcely possible to be occupied with any thing but ourselves. Excepting the savage and sub lime pass of OlUoules, which forced itself upon our attention, the journey to Toulon was a blank. TOULON. The upper or old part of the town is irregular, but the new part below is neat, airy, and well built. The fine capacious harbour, and great maritime arsenal, however, are the chief distinctions of the place. The next day we hired a boat, and saUed out into the bay. Behind the city there is a range of gray and sandy mountains, and on their sides two forts that were erected by the English, to command the 62 TTOULON*^ town. The hills fall in an easy declivity to the tight and left, putting on a green and smiling appearance, and delighting the eye by their variety and beauty. Opposite to the city they appear to meet, and to leave no outlet to the harbour. Near this extremity two high and pointed rocks rise abrupdy out erf the water, and from their insulated ^tuation, and, at the same time, their neighbourhood, are denominated the Bro thers. The day was fine, the prospect gay and ani mated, and the breeze mild and warm as the breath of spring, though we were in the depth of winter. Indeed, the strong contrast, and undulating surface of the hills, the country seats scattered over them, the freshness and verdure of the fields, the pleasant face of the city, the ships of war lying in the port, the beautiful form and sheltered appearance of the har bour, made such a group of objects as seldom en ter into the pictures either of nature or fancy. We staid but one day at Toulon, and on the 9th. reached a paltry village, called Vidauban, where, much against our will, we were obliged to remain two. The only carriage in the vUlage belonged to the Post-Master, who, determining lo profit by this circumstance, demanded fifty francs for a distance of fifteen railes. Rather than satisfy his rapacity, we chose to put ourselves to some inconvenience. Ac cordingly we hired a couple of mules and a waggon, to take our baggage to Frejus. But the Post Master was as much on the alert to defeat our plans as we were to frustrate his. He had his emissaries abroad, who watched all our movements, and having law on his side to aid his injustice, we found all our resources VOYAGE FROM FREJUS TO NICE. 6S unequal to his address and power. He threatened the man, it appears, of whom we had hired the waggon and mules, with the penalties denounced against those who let them out vvithout a licence from government ; and the poor fellow, more alarmed by his menaces than allured by our offers, returned us our earnest money. The same difliculties occurring wherever we applied, we went to the Mayor, and *nade a representation of the Post-Master's conduct. He took upon himself the trouble of seeing this im portant personF^ge, and succeeded in making such an arrangement for us, as did not altogether meet our views, but lessened our humiliation. The recollec tion of this affair is amusing, though at the time it was. a serious vexation. VOYAGE FROM FREJUS TO NICE. Jan. 10th. We reached Frejus to-day, and took more pains in viewing the antiquities of the place than they were worth. This port, which was so ex tensive in the age of Augustus, is now an insignifi cant place, containing only about two thousand in habitants. It has derived no small degree of conse quence from incidental circumstances, both in for mer and latter times. Here Agricola was born, whom Tacitus has immortalized. Here the fleet of Anthony was sent after the battle of Actium. Here Bonaparte landed on his return frora Egypt, and here he embarked for the island of Elba. 64 VOYAGE FROM FREJUS TO NICE. On the following day we hired an open row-boat- to take us to Nice. Near the place where we set out we saw a nuraber of young persons and children carrying baskets of sand, to raend the road^ who were working cheerfully and raerrily for eight, and even four, sous a day. The weather was soft and delightful, and the towns, the villages, the changing aspect of the coast, made the sail reraarkably pleasant. We passed Cannes, where Bonaparte landed on his escape frora Elba, and the isle of Marguerite, where the man in the iron raask was for sorae tirae imprisoned. It was long after dark before we got to Nice. The port was closed, and though we were already tho roughly chilled by the cold and piercing air of the evening, we had reason to fear that we should have to reraain in an open boat all night ; but after much grumbling and hesitation on the part of the sentry, in order to enhance the value of his services, we prevailed on him to go for the comraandant. The officer perraitted us to go on shore, ^nd, while he was exaraining the bills of health which we had got at Frejus, 1 stepped towards hira to make sorae ex,- planation. He started back frorh rae with uplifted hands, as if I had been smitten with the plague. It seemed obtrusive to approach him tUl the papers were read. From the appearance of Nice-,- the lateness of the hour, and the apprehensions we suffered, our en trance into Italy was not unlike our landing in France. 65 NICE. Nice is situated on a plain at the foot of the mari time Alps, which shelter it on the north from the wintry winds, and circling around to the east, run boldly and grandly into the sea. The river Paglion separates the city from the rural suburb, a long street called the Croix de Marbre, and chiefly occupi ed by strangers. The modern part of Nice is laid out with regularity. The public squares, and several of the streets, are neat and handsome. The port is defended by a fort that serves also as a mole, and though it is smaU, and filled almost entirely with craft, there is water enough for vessels of considerable bur den. A high and solitary hill, covered with the ruins of the ancient fortress, rises steeply on one side, presenting towards the sea a huge pile of perpendi cular rock. A short causeway, connecting the port with the other part of the city, runs in front of this high wall, and, in leaning over the parapet, we see the waves breaking furiously amongst the ro(;ks, and rushing, with the noise of thunder, into the cavities beneath. Continuing along the path, we soon come to one of the most agreeable walks in the world, A row of houses, a quarter of a mile in length, border^ ing the sea, and sometiraes sprinkled with its spray, are built of an equal height, with flat roofs. These being covered with stucco, form a broad and noble terrace, where strangers and natives meet together, to enjoy the sublime view of the deep ; the glimpses of 9 66 MGE. the mountains on each side; whidi it stops in their course; the softer beauties of the plain that skirts the shores towards the river Var ; and the mild breezes of the south, which, to- the valetudinarian, are more deHghtfut than aU. It is not surprising then, that this place should have acquired so much reputation^ and becorae the favour ite resort of those who are looking for health, as well as of raany who are only in pursuit of pleasure. Na ture has prodigally lavished her glories and charms around it, and: blessed it with a climate so equal and temperate, as almost to change the order of the sea sons, and turn the rigours of winter into the genial warmth of spring. My time passed away there ra pidly, and was fuU of occupation and enjoyment. In the morning we had our Italian teacher, and in the evemng the French. In the middle of the day we either took a few turns on the terrace, or made a pleasant excursion on horseback to Villa Franca, along the windings of the shore to the river Var, in the valley towards Turin, or on the mountainous road to Genoa. Soraetimes we were accorapanied in our rambles by two of our compatriots, Mr. Rogers, of Baltimore, and Mr. Cox, of Philadelphia. The so ciety of these amiable and estimable men relieved the solitude which might have been felt in the ab sence of all our countryraen and friends, and I can hardly say, that 1 had an uneasy or irksome hour, except from ray anxiety for the slow recovery, or rather increased indisposition of Mr. Hands, Our lodgings were in the Hotel de Yorck, but we enjoyed all the stillness and seclusion of a private house, and NICE. 67 lived with so much comfort, regularity, and temper ance, as enabled us to make a thorough trial of what climate and regimen could do towards restor ing our health. My own improved surprisingly, and I felt that the climate and other helping causes were alraost working a rairacle in me. Could 1 have seen the same change in my friend, my joy would have been complete. During our stay at Nice, which was about a month, the weather was uniformly pleasant, with the excep tion of one rainy day and part of another. The air is at times a little too elastic and bracing, producing in consumptive persons a tightness of the chest, and a slight difficulty in breathing. Occasionally too, though very rarely, the winds are somewhat raw and blustering. But it is incomparably milder and better than any climate I have ever tried. The invalid must not expose hiraself to the morning nor evening air. His recreations and exercise should all be em braced between the hours of ten and four. Then he will generally find a cheering and salutary warmth, I rode out in the valley, where, in many places, the sun raerely enters and disappears, over the open plain, and upon the raountains, without ever using a surtout. There was no frost nor ice in the city or immediate environs. The hedges were putting forth their leaves ; the almond trees were in blossom ; the orange and lemon groves were loaded with fruits; and vegetables are almost perennial. In the end of January we were eating green peas. A few days before our departure we walked out on the road to Genoa, which is one of the monuments 68 NICE. of the greatness and ambition of a man whose ener^ gies were too often ex;erted in works of destruction, but were sometimes also directed to objects of utiUty and real glory. This road commences at the foot of the raountains which rise on the east of Nice, and winds up their sides to their sumraits. It is supported on the outer part by a solid wall of stone, differing in height according to the varying surface of the ground. Sometimes it is entirely cut out of the hills, and at others through large masses of rock. We had gone up, a short time before, on horsebackj till we supposed we were about a thousand feet above the valley. In several places the descent is rapid and frightful, but in general the eye raeets, at intervals, with cluraps of trees, or spots of cultivation, which break the steepness of the precipice. Now, as we mounted up at our leisure, warmed by the rays al most of a sumraer's sun, in the bleak and desolate month of February, we saw wild flowers scattered about us, and trees in full blossom. At every turn the view improved, and at length we reached a high and comraanding point, where it was enchanting. A narrow vale, divided into a multitude of gardens, pleasingly arranged, and without much art, laid far below us. Alternate rows of wheat, with the beds of vegetables, and a profusion of orange and lemon trees, made them appear as fresh and verdant as in raid-sumraer. The houses, which are remarkably neat, and often painted in a fanciful manner, with a vUlage church and two white convents, formed a suitable accompaniraent to a spot so sraUing. From the foot of the mountains, in which this valley is NICE. 69 embosomed, to the very top, their sleep and rugged sides have, in many places, been subdued and fer* tilized by patient and hard labour; and one level strip, supported by stone walls, or a sodded bank, rises above another, in regular gradation, like a hang ing garden. In other places precipitous rocks, deep ridges, formed by the mountain torrents, the pine and other evergreens, and a rough and unkind soil, have made thera retain all their original wildness. Houses are perched up on lofty heights, to which we see no path, and persons are at work where one would be afraid of giddiness. These objects, imme diately around and below us, so diversified in their general features, and in the slighter shades of the olive, the evergreen, the orange groves^ and the bright bloom of the almond trees, were only the fore ground of the picture. Over the mountains to the right arose the loftier tops of others. Nice appeared before us as in a map; the hill which parts it and the old fortress looked more interesting, and the restless and imraeasurable sea closed this beautiful and glo* rious prospect. It was an inexpressible satisfaction to us, while we reraained here, to be able to attend (at the country'^ seat of an English gentleraan) the service of our own church. How strong is the commoti bond of faith, and how intiraate the communion of those whora it " knits together." When we united with these bre thren of the same household, who all knelt on the floor with profound reverence, and whose devotion seemed to be inflamed by a grateful sense of the pri vilege they were enjoying, we felt the whole power 70 NICE. of these ties, and the intensity with which the soul is sometiraes capable of worshipping God. The service was read with a propriety of manner that gave to every part a due effect, and with a holy fervour that warmed the heart. The sermons were written in a simple, chaste, and manly style. They were edifying in the matter, sound in doctrine, prac tical in their tendency, and delivered earnestly and impressively, though without gesture. Mr. Proctor, the clergyman, hearing that a stran ger of his own profession and comraunion was in town, politely caUed on me. I found hira a very intelligent and agreeable raan, whose conversation and manners had raore of frankness, cordiality, and warrath, than are generally shown by bis country men on a slight intiraacy with strangers. He asked me to preach for hira, but the state of my health induced rae to decline. It is soraewhat remarkable that he made no inquiries about the Episcopal Church in this country, and listened with much ap parent indifference to the accounts which 1 gratuit ously gave him. The Hotel de Yorck was large and commodious, but neither fashionable nor expensive. Indeed, > we never got so much comfort, in any part of our route, at so cheap a rate. We had two well furnished apart ments, one of which was quite spacious, and the other convenient, and breakfast and dinner served up in our own roora, for ten francs a day, or less than a dollar a piece. 71 VOYAGE TO LERICI. We left Nice, without a very encouraging prospect, in a sraall felucca. The day was fine, and the snowy tops of the Alps, faintly touched by the rays of the morning, appeared like " The blushing discontented sun, " When the envious clouds are bent, "To dim his glory." But in a short tirae sea sickness coming on, the beauties of nature faded before me, and 1 could ob serve nothing with care, till we landed at Monaco. Here we were detained four days by contrary winds. The views around us were suited to the lovers of nature, under her harsher forms. Monaco is built on a high and almost insulated rock, and, with the lofty walls which girdle it, covered in many places with creeping ivy, its battlements, watch-towers, and draw-bridge, looks like one of the fabled fortresses of romance. The rock is in general steep, and in some parts almost perpendicular, and excepting on the north-west, where it is connected by a low and nar row neck of land with the- main, the waves of the Mediterranean dash and foam everlastingly around it. The inhabitants of this little kingdora appeared wretchedly poor,* yet the prince keeps up the state * When we first arrived, our landlord was not able, to get us a dinnef till we furnished him with money. 72 VOYAGE TO LERICi. and parade of a court. He is in a singular situation, for though his dorainions forra a part of the territories of the king of Sardinia, he is at the sarae time a peer of France. Feb. 16th. A Ught breeze springing up to-day, we at length set saU, and proceeded slowly along the coast. It is Uned by raountains, which are the extremities of the smaller branches of the great range of the maritime Alps. Their gray and naked sides do not appear as if they could furnish nourishment for the multitudes who inhabit thera. We could frequently take in, at a single view, ten or twelve sprightly vUlages and towns, some of which were large and populous, and raost of thera strikingly situ ated, in the sheltered recess of a mountain, on the suramit of a sloping hUl, or in the inmost depths of a bay, SraaU barques and vessels, keeping closely and timorously towards the land, were seen in all directions. The coast, faced with precipices, broken with inlets, and projecting in sudden bluffs and bol der promontories, shifted the scene every moment, and amused us continually with new prospects. Near Savone a high and jutting rock, with a plea sant country house on the southern side of it, and another enormous mass below, still more lofty and cragged, extending about the same distance into the sea, enclose between them a beautiful and regular cove. We passed by it, at an eariy hour of a lovely raorning. A nuraber of raen and woraen were busily engaged on the beach in drawing their nets. At the same moraent a party on raules, who had just corae out of a gaUery, pierced through the lower VOYAGE TO LERICI. 73 promontory, appeared on the cliffs above, which over hang the sea, and were carefully descending the giddy road which runs along their border. As soon as we had got by this point, the deep and extensive harbour of Savone opened upon us ; and, in looking back, we could see on high the lower outlet of the gallery. The passage cut through the solid rock is 200 feet long, and wide and high enough to admit carriages. This is one of the comraon, but daring efforts of Bonaparte. The road frora Genoa stopped here, like all the other undertakings of that extraor dinary raan, when it lost the energy of his raighty arm ; and there is neither the spirit nor ability in the present powers to coraplete what he began. It was not our intention to land at Genoa. 1 begged the man at the heira to wake me, if we should pass it in the night. We did so al.iout twelve o'clock, but though the full raoon was shining, we were not near enough to see it distinctly. The wind, however, dying away, we had an opportunity of viewing this cele brated city by day-light. The beautiful and capa cious hai'bour, the white buildings rising above each other, like the seats of an amphitheatre, and the walls running in irregular lines over the barren hills above it, together with the populous and long extended suburbs to the south, certainly forra an extraordinary spectacle. But perhaps it was owing to the distance frora which we surveyed it, that it appeared less splendid than 1 had expected. Feb. 19th. A pleasant breeze brought us this evening to the lower promontory, which terminate* the Gulf of Genoa. On the northern side of it, in 10 ^^ VOYAGE TO LERtCt. a place so steep as to appear almost inaccessible, there is a small country seat, surrounded by a gar den, of which we can only see the fruit trees and evergreens that shoot above the wall. Frora the west end of this strange retreat a ledge of rocks runs down into the sea, and, with the point below, shuts up a smooth and peaceful basin. The sun had just set, and araidst the broken and stupendous objects before us, evening was disposing of the light and shade with a raagical effect. Before we got by, the broad side of this projecting mountain was wrapt in gloom, and, hiding the brightness of the raoon, which bad just risen, it threw over the basin below its own darkness and obscurity, while aU was cheerful be yond it. But when the raoon rose above, it came forth with such purity, and cast such a lustre over the heavens, and all things on which it shone, that it fully justified whatever has been said of the beauty ©f an Italian sky. Presently we came under the lofty precipice, which for many railes borders the sea. This part of the coast presents itself in a thousand striking and fanciful forras. At tiraes a huge fragment, rent asun der from the rest of the pile, would adrait the light through the fissure. At others the rocks, which we alraost touched with our oars, rose up with amazing grandeur, and seemed suspended over our heads. Frequently they would fall back in rugged inlets, whose deep bosom, overshadowed by the surround ing raountains, forraed a fine contrast with the waves, glittering in the raoon-bearas without. In one of these we saw a hermitage at the foot of a tremendous VOYAGE TO LERICI. 75 ravine, and the chapel belonging to it was lighted up as we passed. The seclusion of the place, shut out as it were frora the rest of the world ; the silence, interrupted only by the dashing and roaring of the waters, and the majesty of every thing around, made this spot a fit abode for a solitary, who wished only to hold communion with the world to come, and might have alraost inspired devotion in a heart that it had never touched. But raore coraraonly the coast presented a high and massive wall, towering many hundred feet above the sea, irregular and broken at the top like the ru inous fortifications of a fallen city. The edges of these mountains were generally naked and abrupt, but occasionally covered with trees, and for ever changing their outline and appearance. Now and then some artificial object was seen on them, a sum mer-house, a telegraph, or an ancient tower appear ing StUl higher than it really was frora the angle at which we viewed it. It was interesting also to ob serve the cavities below, which time and the cease less raotion of the waters had eaten out of the rocks. As we came near to Porto Fino the mountains sunk for a short distance into a plain, but still at a great height above the sea. Here, on the very outskirt of the precipice, there is a church, which, in the Ught of the moon, appeared to be of the purest white, and which, to an imagination delighted with every thing around, seemed also to be singularly beautiful. At length we reached the point, crowned on high with a little oratory, which put an end to this enrapturing prospect. The evening was so mild and so serenely 76 JOURNEY FROM LERICI TO LEGHORN. bright, the sea so unruffled, the objects which adorn ed the coast so picturesque, and the whole scene so full of loveliness, and, at the same time, of wUdness and sublimity, that 1 never felt so much the power of nature, for I had never seen her under an aspect so impressive. JOURNEY FROM LERICI TO LEGHORN. If On the 21st of February we landed at Lerici, in the Gulf of Spezzia. We reraained no longer at this insignificant port, where nothing could be seen but poverty and decay, than was necessary for pass ing through the formalities of the Custom-House. We were glad to find, at Sarzana, a decent table and comfortable beds, after the indifferent fare and worse accora raodations of our felucca. We were the only passengers, but the cabin was a confined and miserable hole, where even two persons could not be much at their ease. My raattress was little more than a folded saU, and the ropes which passed under my body, in different directions, would have raade me uneasy, had not ray attention been diverted frora this inconvenience by the biting and scarapering of myriads of fleas. We were nine days in coraing from Nice to Lerici, a distance of a hundred and fifty railes, five nights of which we slept on board of the felucca. But the soft and deUghtful weather, and the succession of romantic prospects, beguiled our JOURNEY FROM LERip TO LEGHORN. 77 time, and raade us patient and contented. Indeed our cold fare, or the coarse cookery of the sailors, eggs beaten up for milk, and wooden spoons and dishes, were even amusing by their novelty. Sarzana is an ancient but inconsiderable city. Three centuries ago it was given in exchange to the Genoese, by the Grand Duke of Tuscany, for Leg horn, which was then a small viUage, but has now become the most flourishing port in Italy. On the following day we left this place, and tra velled through a rich and agreeable country. At the distance of twelve miles frora Sarzana, we passed by Massa, which is charraingly situated on the side of a hill. The faraous raarble quarries of Carrara are in the iramediate neighbourhood of this city. But we could not go to see them, without run ning the risk of a raost inconvenient delay. For the rains had so swelled the strearas, that we already found great difficulty in crossing them, and we were fearful that they might soon becorae impassable. We stopped at Pietra Santa to dine, and remained there till the next day. In the afternoon we visited one of the churches during vespers. When the ser vice was over, the children and young people col lected together near the grand altar, and seated them selves in a circle, A priest in the centre went around to them severally, and catechised them both in the way of interrogation and familiar instruction. A mul titude of their friends remained to encourage them by their presence, and to enjoy the interesting spec tacle. There was an eagerness and pleasure on the part of the pastor, the children, and attendants, not 78 LEGHORN. often seen among those who, laying a better founda tion of doctrine and practice, ought to be animated with a more active and ardent zeal. We were struck by a peculiarity in the costume of the females. A square white muslin handkerchief doubled, was thrown over their heads, and hung loosely upon their shoulders, producing a very grace ful and pleasing effect, Feb, 23d, The road, for a considerable distance from Pietra Santa, passed over a sandy plain, with an extensive forest on the side toward the sea. The fields on the other were secured by a rail fence, the first enclosure of the kind we had seen since we left home. The soil iraproved as we drew nearer to Pisa, and, in the iraraediate neighbourhood of the city, it indicated extraordinary strength and the most labo rious cultivation. While we were yet far off, the leaning tower and the domes of the cathedral and baptistery rose up before us. Intending to re-visit Pisa on our way to Florence, we merely glanced af them, and hurried on the next morning to Leghorn. LEGHORN, This city, though of early origin, is indebted for its present consequence to the commercial prosperity of later times. The private dwellings are neat and com modious, and the streets wide, straight, and paved with smooth flat stones, but there are scarcely any LEGHORN, 79 splendid edifices, or pubUc monuments, to associate it with the decayed raagnificence of the other great cities of Italy. To a lover of the real corafort and happiness of raen, however, the noise and bustle in the streets of Leghorn, the number of ships in the harbour, and the raany appearances of an active and flourishing trade, would perhaps be more grati fying than the remains of forraer glory, A raole of nearly 2000 feet in length, protects the vessels in port frora the violence of the winds and waves. As there is not a sufficient depth of water for ships of a large burden, they lie off at sorae dis tance from the raole. The statue of Ferdinand I. on the quay, and the four Turkish slaves in chains at the corners of the pedestal, marked with the suUen- ness and dejection of bondage, are spoken of with greater admiration than they appeared to us to de serve, frora the hasty look we gave them in passing. All that is curious raay be quickly seen at Leg horn, but some arrangements for the prosecution of our journey, and the civilities of three or four gentle men to whora we had letters, kept us here several days. The EngUsh chaplain, Mr. Hall, was forraerly of Philadelphia, His kindness and cordiality towards us showed that the change of his political relations had by no raeans extinguished the love of his coun* try. We returned to Pisa by the sarae route, through a dull succession of raeadows, intersected by nuraerous canals. At alraost every hamlet or cottage that we passed, the little children ran out and thrust a bunch of violets into our carriage, in the hope of getting for 80 PISA'. this nosegay some trifling present. This delicate and silent solicitation would undoubtedly succeed with raost strangers, if it were not so frequent as to become troublesome. PISA. The Arno passes through this city in a slight bend. The yellow and turbid waters do not correspond with the iraagined freshness and purity of this poetical streara. Three bridges are thrown across it, one of which is faced with raarble. The quays on both sides being wide and smooth, and the houses having a gay and sprightly appearance, the promenade along the Arno is pleasant and inviting. It is especially so in winter, when, besides the advantage of being shel tered frora the winds, it is also warmed by the pow erful reflection of the sun's rays from the adjoining buildings. But the last circurastance must render it proportionably disagreeable in sumraer, as there are no trees to intercept this concentration of heat, nor to fan the air by the waving of their branches. This is the only part of the city where there is any thing like animation ; but here the numerous groups thai throng these walks on foot, and the carriages drawn furiously along by spirited horses, with long flowing tails and manes, form a singular contrast with the dulness and inactivity of other streets, and make the Lung' Arno quite as lively and bustling a scene riSA. 81 as is to be found in many a metropolis more flourish ing a!id crowded. There is an air of neatness and elegance in the other parts of the city, which bespeak the opulence and power of Pisa in the days of the republic, but accompanied with a sullenness and desertion that remind us still raore strongly of its present poverty and decay. The streets are broader, more regular, and better paved, than in raost conti nental cities; and, what is rather uncomraon, they are furnished with side-walks. The cathedral stands at the north-east extremity of the city. It is in a corrupted style of Grecian archi tecture, with a few scattered traces of the Gothic. The bronze doors in the west end are covered with basso relievos. In the same front there are five rows of semicircular arches, rising above each other, and supported by half pillars of different colours; some of which are plain, others wreathed with spiral lines, or decoraied with fanciful figures. Similar ranks of arches run along the sides of the church, and around the dome. The last are surmounted by pediments, pinnacles, and statues. Notwithstanding the costli ness of the ornaraents, and the vast dimensions of the building, the cathedral cannot be considered as a stately fabric. There is an utter want of siraplicity in the details, and of boldness in the general design. The interiour is still raore splendid and dazzling. The roof of the nave is lined with gilded pannel work. The floor is paved with mosaics and variegated raar- bles. The walls are covered with pictures. The pulpit, the chancel, the side altars, are all of precious materials, and great beauty. Fifty-two large pUlars 11 iiii FISA. of dark oriental granite divide the church into five aisles, and two rows of the sarae kind intersect them at the arra of the cross. The variety, the gaudiness, and laboured elegance of many of the embellish ments, weakened the impression that would have been made by the gloomy aisles, the massive co lumns, the loftiness of the nave, and the great out lines of the edifice. The belfry, or leaning tower, stands at a short distance from the east end of the cathedral. This is an hollow column of great diameter, and one hun dred and eighty feet in height. It is divided into eight stories; the first of which is encircled by fifteen large pillars, sunk in the wall, and supporting as many round arches; the next six by open galleries, with a double number of columns; and the last by an iron railing. There ought to have been grandeur in a work of such solidity and magnitude, but it is divided into so many minute parts, that it is raerely beautiful. The leaning tower is very remarkable from the circumstance indicated by its narae. It inclines thirteen feet beyond the perpendicular line. In look ing at it frora below, it seeras as if it were just ready to faU and overwhelra us, and, in ascending, we feel as if it were sinking under our feet. The idle opinion that this inclination was the re sult of design, in order to show the skUl of the archi tect, is now generally rejected. The swampy and yielding soil on which the tower is buUt, wHl account for it much more rationally. From the shelving and unguarded top, we had a fine view of the city, the course of the Arno, the vast FISA. 83 and superb monastery of the Carthusians to the east, the white tops of the Appenines, and the Mediterra nean sea. The baptistery is in a line with the cathedral, at the west end. This is a large rotundo, covered with a dome. In the exterior of this edifice, the mixture of style and profusion of inappropriate ornaments must offend the eye even of the coramon observer. It is deformed within also, by two round galleries, resting on pillars, which intercept the view of the dorae, and destroy its siraplicity and proportion. To the north of the cathedral is the Carapo Santo, or ceraetery, where the inhabitants of Pisa were forraerly interred. It is ao oblong square of four hundred feet in length, and one hundred and fifty in breadth. Within there is a broad portico, corarauni cating with an open court by six Gothic windows, and several doors, fashioned with all the lightness and grace for which that style is often reraarkable. The soU, with which it is filled to the depth of ten feet, is said to have been brought from the Holy Land, in the tirae of the Crusades. Funeral monuments, of various design, partially cover the walls of the gallery, ancient sarcophagi are ranged beneath, and the pavement is, in a great measure, made up of meraorials to the departed ; sorae of which are legi ble, and others trodden out and long since effaced. These, with many reUques of antiquity, busts, sta tues, and cinerary urns; the fresco paintings of Gi otto, Memmi, and the other early raasters of the art, which are fading and perishing, are so raany tro phies of destruction and death, that force upon the 84 FISA. mind the destiny of man and aU his works. The cloistered seclusion of the place, the religious style of the architecture, the court wUhin covered with thick rank grass, and strewed with violets, assist these reflections, and lead to thoughtfulness and melan choly I have no where seen any thing so solemn and impressive. The Carapo Santo, the cathedral, belfry, and bap tistery, are all of white marble. They were erected in the eleventh and twelfth centuries, and, in the lapse of so many ages, have put on a dingy and yel lowish hue. When examined in detail, we may per ceive raany deformities and faults, but when viewed in general, the group is wonderful and majestic. Before leaving Pisa, I went to a conversazione at the house of our countrywoman, Mrs. Felicca, to whom I had letters. She made many inquiries after her early friends, and though her connexions and habits were entirely altered by a residence of thirty years in Italy, her thoughts still recurred with pleasure to the inti macies and scenes of her youth. 1 regretted that the shortness of ray stay here would not allow me to ac cept of the proffered civilities and hospitality of this interesting lady. We did not remain long enough at Pisa to visit the University, and several other objects deserving of our attention, much less to forra any opinion of the cli mate, so celebrated for its healing power in pulrao- nary coraplainls. While we were there, the weather was raild and pleasant, but frora the plain which sur rounds it, extending in a perfect level to the sea, it is much raore exposed than Nice. The grounds in the JOURNEY TO FLORENCE. 85 neighbourhood also, are raarshy, and hence it is more subject to rains and a damp atmosphere. The tem perature 1 believe is about the sarae, and the softness of the air, in consequence of this huraidity, we were told by our physician at Nice, was raore favourable in consuraptive cases, than the cloudless sky, and keen and bracing air of that place. 1 learned nothing myself of Pisa. IMy own happy experience has cre ated, perhaps, a too partial fondness for Nice. I can scarcely conceive any thing raore delightful than this cliraate, where one fair day succeeds another, alraost without interruption ; where the weather is equal and temperate ; where the nights of January, though chUly and biting, are without frost, and mid-day is as warm as spring; where nothing interferes with regular ex ercise, so essential to invalids ; where winter is seen only on the mountains; and leaves, and blossoms, and fruits, regale the senses in the valley. It is said, however, though this climate be so salutary in the beginning of a consumption, it quickens the progress of the disease when it is far advanced, and hurries the sufferer to the grave. JOURNEY TO FLORENCE. March 2d. This morning we left Pisa, and passed through a lovely valley. The road sometiraes ran along a canal, which was as pure and rapid as a stream, and occasionally the river Cerchio appeared 86 LUCCA. at a distance through the trees. The hills on each side were cultivated to their tops in terraces, or co vered with groves of pine and the slender and tower ing cypress, or brightened by towns and villas. The rich bottora between was divided into small fields, separated by ditches, and by trees hung with vines, which extended in garlands from one to the other. Violets, and a profusion of wild flowers of different kinds and colours, were scattered on the borders of the road and on the banks above. The arbours and sum mer-houses in the gardens were overrun with spread ing cypress or creeping evergreen, and soraetimes they were fancifully combined. Two or three solitary towers on the hiUs, and a ruinous castle, gave to this sweet vale a higher charra, and finished the beauty of the landscape, I was in raptures with it, and ray friend, who was hardly well enough to enjoy any thing, felt the same enthusiasm. LUCCA. We reached Lucca about noon. At our inn we were shown into a parlour filled with pictures, in a style so far beyond the usual decorations of such places, that in many other countries they would have formed a respectable gallery. We went iramediately to the cathedral, a large Gothic structure of the eleventh century. The white marble of which it is built has lost but little of its brightness, even after so many ages. The interiour LUCCA. 87 is gloomy and venerable, but strongly iUurainated in certain parts by the brilliant hues of the painted win dows. Among the pictures, I was much pleased with the Last Supper by Tintoretto, and the Ascension of the Virgin into Heaven by Tofanelli. Frora the belfry of the cathedral, which 1 mounted by a dark and crazy staircase, there is a charming view of a beautiful and populous plain, surrounded by an amphitheatre of hills, clad with vines and oUve trees, and adorned with the elegant villas of the nobles of Lucca. The city is encompassed with raraparts, shaded by trees, which are not only broad enough for a public walk, but even for carriages. The streets are regular, handsorae, and paved with large cut stone. The only stately edifice, is the public palace, an iraraense pile, though but half of the original plan was corapleted. Lucca has still a considerable trade in oil and silks, but it has declined as well as Pisa, and in passing through the streets, we reraark the sarae sober and neglected air, and almost the sarae desertion and silence. The temporary splendour given to it by the presence of Caesar, Pompey, and Crassus, who met here to divide among thera the Ro man erapire, is still its raost interesting distinction, to those who love to recall the past in the present. On leaving Lucca we travelled over a'fine road, raised a few feet above the adjacent fields, with ditches on each side, inlaid with stone. It is lined with double rows of trees, forming long avenues for foot passengers, and a refreshing shade for those who are in carriages. For several miles we rode through 88 Ll/CCA. a luxuriant country, and, in turning around a gentle ascent at one point, we had a momentary view of the valley behind, cultivated like a garden; of the swell-* ing hills to the left, with tarm houses and superb mansions scattered over their sides, and above thera the silvery tops of the Appenines, partly lost in the clouds and mists of the morning. The grounds to the right were broken and varied, with soraething more of wildness and sterility. Brooks and streams were running among the hills. Trees were in blos som in some of the gardens, and before raany of the houses there was a small lawn, an avenue of box or cypress, or sorae kind of ornamental shrubbery. And as the road passed over hill and dale, we perceived, at every turn, sorae new combination, some singular feature, or sorae resemblance to the prospects of our own country. Near Bourg Buggiano a nuraber of persons were returning from a fair, leading white oxen, and others of a most delicate fawn colour. These cattle were small, but exceedingly neat and handsome. Among the rustic groups that went by, we were struck with the fine complexions, comely features, and even graceful forms of the peasant girls. The smart bea ver hat and feather is a peculiarity in their costume. They dress in other respects with simplicity and taste, and have often an appearance above their con dition. We remarked two in particular in the course of this day's ride, of such singular beauty as would have attracted admiration in a fashionable assembly, though one was employed in drawing water, and the other in carrying wood. FLORENCE. 89 Throughout all the cities of Tuscany, and even in the smaller villages, there is an extraordinary clean liness, which we were lead to notice more particu larly from having been so recently disgusted with the intolerable filthiness of the south of France. Not far frora Pistoa we passed by one of the re treats of the Grand Duke of Tuscany. The palace itself is elegant and spacious, with a noble portico and extensive out-houses. A handsorae park covers the brow of a sraall acclivity on the opposite side of the road. It had been raining hard in the raorning, and the sky was still heavy and lowering; but when we were within a few miles of Florence, the sun threw out a partial glare on the viUas of the gentry and nobles which surround it, while thick dark clouds overspread the raountains behind us. FLORENCE. We entered the city about twilight. While the Custora-House officer was exaraining our baggage the Grand Duke passed us, in a carriage drawn by six horses, followed by another with his suite, in the sarae style. But they were driven so furiously that we had scarcely a glimpse of these great personages. It is usual, at such times, for aU who are in the streets to take off their hats. This mark of respect for princely rank may be decent and becoming, but it pro