Chapter V: Part 5

We arrived at the grand city of Milan early, and proceeded immediately to visit the cathedral, that mighty _duomo_, of which Italy is so justly proud. We were absolutely silent with admiration and wonder, upon first seeing this stupendous work of art, and I really despair of doing it justice in description; like many other things, it must be seen to be fully comprehended and appreciated. St. Peter's at Rome is generally accounted the superior miracle of genius; but I believe there are many imaginations which have been more forcibly impressed with the effect of this. In the first place, the _material_ claims pre-eminence, being entirely of white marble, brought from the Lago Maggiore. It is of gothic architecture, and was begun in the year 1386: the plan of the choir and the two grand organs were given by the celebrated Pellegrini, and the façade, which had remained for so many years unfinished, was completed by Bonaparte, from the simple and superior designs of the architect Amati. Various statues and bas reliefs, with other costly ornaments in spotless marble, ornament the outside; and the interior has no less than five naves, supported by one hundred and sixty superb columns of the same magnificent material. Immediately beneath the dome or cupola (which is by Brunellesco) is a subterranean chapel, where sleeps the embalmed body of Saint Carlo Borromeo, (the Howard of his age, and an ancient archbishop of Milan), enshrined in a coffin of the purest rock crystal, inclosed in a tomb of solid silver, splendidly embossed, and of enormous size and value. The pillars which support this chapel are alternately of silver and of the most exquisite coloured marble, highly polished. The wax tapers, which were lighted by the guides, to enable us to thread the dark mazes of this magnificent dungeon (for I can call it by no other name, debarred as it is from the sweet air and light of heaven), cast a stream of gloomy radiance upon our somewhat lengthened visages, and dimly illuminated the buried treasures of the tomb. Never, surely, since the days of Aladdin, has there existed so imposing a scene of sepulchral wealth and grandeur! Having expressed a wish to see the saint (who I ought to mention has now been dead for nearly three hundred years), the priest (first putting on a sort of cloak of old point lace, and crossing himself with an air of profound respect and reverence), assisted by the guide, began to set some mechanical process at work; by means of which, as though by a stroke of magic, the silver tomb appeared to sink into the earth, the lid flew up as if to the roof of the chapel, and the body inclosed in its transparent coffin was suddenly exhibited to our wondering gaze. It was habited in a long robe of cloth of gold, fresh as if just from the loom; on the head was a mitre of solid gold (presented by one of the former kings of Spain), and by the lifeless side, as if just released from the powerless hands which were crossed upon its breast, lay a crosier, of massy chased gold, studded with jewels of extraordinary richness and beauty; the price of which was scarcely to be reckoned, and whose magnitude and lustre were wonderful! They sparkled brightly in the rays of the taper, as if in mockery of the ghastly spectacle of mortality which they were meant to honour and adorn. Nothing certainly could well be imagined more alarmingly hideous than St. Carlo Borromeo; and why the humiliating exhibition of his corporeal remains should thus be produced to the eyes of the careless multitude, when the qualities of his noble and benignant soul should alone be remembered and dwelt upon, I cannot possibly conjecture. What a strange perversion of taste, and what a ludicrous method of evincing gratitude and admiration! A very brief account of the virtues of this good archbishop may not be unwelcome to my readers. He was the head of the noble family of Borromeo, and equally distinguished for his extraordinary benevolence towards mankind, and his elevated sentiments of piety towards God. Not satisfied with possessing the respect and homage of his fellow creatures, he placed his happiness in soothing their griefs, relieving their wants, and in gaining their warmest affections: he rather wished to be considered as a father than a superior, and the superb head of the clergy was merged in the benevolent friend of the people. His whole fortune was devoted to their service, and during a year of famine he had so completely exhausted his annual income in feeding others, that he literally was left totally destitute either of food or ready money, one evening when he returned to his episcopal residence, fatigued and exhausted with the charitable labours of the day. This benign enthusiasm, kindled in early life, never relaxed to the hour of his dissolution, and he was after death canonized as a saint by the universal consent of all ranks of persons, as might reasonably be expected; and with far more justice than many of his calendared brethren. I am afraid, nevertheless, that he does not quite come up to the ideas of moral and religious perfection, entertained by a Faquir of India, or a strict Calvinist of our country; for he certainly never stuck any nails into his own sides, or planted the thorns of terror in the agonised bosom of all, whose notions of duty happened not exactly to agree with those he himself entertained. He persecuted, he despised, he denounced no one; and he considered all mankind, whether protestant or catholic, as equally entitled to his good will and benevolence!--To return to the narrative of our individual proceedings, we retired from the cathedral, with our imaginations rather disagreeably impressed by the splendid yet disgusting spectacle we had there witnessed; and instead of remaining at home all the evening, to brood over the idea of coffins and crossbones, and to "dream of the night-mare, and wake in a fright[7]," we were wicked enough to shake off our melancholy, by going to the theatre of the Marionetti (or puppets), for which Milan is famous. The scenery and figures (the latter of which were nearly four feet in height) quite surprised us by their correct imitation of nature. I assure the reader, that I have often seen actors of flesh and blood far less animated, and much more wooden. We could now and then discern the strings by which they were worked, and we found it easy to follow the Italian dialogue, as the judicious speaker (concealed behind the curtain), did not indulge in the rant or mouthing of high tragedy, but gave every speech a natural degree of emphasis, and possessed in addition, an articulation singularly clear and distinct. The orchestra was capital, the selection of music extremely agreeable, and I never heard a _tout ensemble_ better attended to, even at the Opera.

Milan is a large city, and has the convenience of excellent pavements both for foot passengers and those in carriages. There are four _trottoirs_ in each street, two of them in the middle of the road, which is a great advantage to all the draught horses of the place, as it considerably lessens and facilitates their exertions: I should not wonder if this improvement had been suggested by the guardian spirit of the amiable Borromeo, since we are told that "a righteous man is merciful unto his beast." The _bourgeoises_ of Milan generally wear black or white transparent veils, thrown carelessly over the hair, and carry fans in the hand. Some have thin muslin mob caps with flat crowns under the veil, but the use of a bonnet is quite unknown. Both the peasantry and _bourgeoisie_ are generally well-looking, and we saw two or three lovely women: one in particular, a true Madonna of Coreggio, who if seen in a London circle, would, I am sure, have created an immense sensation; we had no opportunity of judging whether she was fully aware or not of her own extraordinary beauty, but taking the thing in the most rational point of view, I should think it impossible that she should be ignorant of the personal advantages so liberally bestowed upon her. Nothing has ever appeared to me more sickening than the pretty innocence some women (who have been highly favoured by nature) think it amiable to affect. That it is genuine, no one will believe who is truly acquainted with human nature and the customs of society; nor will any female, who is not weak in intellect, or of very defective judgment, condescend to adopt so paltry an artifice. A woman of _sense_ must know when she is handsome, and she will also know how to enjoy this species of superiority without abusing it. There is nothing, however, more common than the mistaking ignorance for virtue, amongst persons of a certain calibre of intellect, who yet at the same time pique themselves upon a reputation for solidity.

The fruit sold in the markets here is in the most luxuriant profusion that can be imagined. We saw grapes piled up in large wicker baskets, like those used for holding linen; peaches in tubs and wheelbarrows, and innumerable quantities of ripe figs. We had the pleasure of hearing several ballad-singers of a very superior stamp to those of London or Paris. This is giving them small praise; but I mean to say, that they were really excellent, differing widely from some to whom we had listened at Turin (who said they came from Rome), and whose harshness of voice was unpleasant, although their style, and the music they selected, was very good. But these people gratified us extremely: they sang a buffo duet (accompanied by a violoncello, violin, and guitar), with full as much spirit and correctness as either Signors N. or A. And we afterwards heard a man (who came under our windows with his guitar) execute one of Rossini's refined and difficult serious _arias_ in an equally finished manner.

The next day we took a _caleche_, and drove to see many lions, amongst others the _arena_ (i. e. amphitheatre), and the triumphal arch, begun, but not finished, by Napoleon. It was at Milan that this wonderful man was crowned king of Italy, in 1805; and the arch in question was intended to be at once a monument of his fame, and a gate to the grand road of the Simplon, which commences here. When finished, it must have proved the admiration of posterity; even now it is very striking to the imagination, and not the less so (in my opinion) for being left thus awfully incomplete. The groups of figures, prepared as ornamental friezes, lie piled together in a shed or outhouse hard by, scarcely secured from the injuries of weather. Nothing can be more chastely classical than their designs, and the figure of Napoleon, for ever prominent among them, in the costume of the ancient Roman conquerors, is a very correct personal likeness. A statue of him also is shewn here (with some little affectation of mystery), as large, or larger, than the life, and is equally marked as an accurate resemblance.

The amphitheatre (lately built by Coenonica) is highly magnificent, and of immense proportions, chiefly appropriated to the celebration of the _naumachia_, or naval tournament. We found the city full of English; our attorney-general and Lord K., &c. were in the same hotel with ourselves (_Albergo Reale_); and I should in justice mention, that the master of this inn is one of the most attentive, civil, and obliging persons in the world: I hope all our countrymen will patronise him. In the evening we drove upon the promenade, which is a very fine one, and situated in the best part of the city. We were much struck by the width of the streets adjacent, and by the beauty and dignity of the buildings. Here we met a crowd of equipages, of every denomination and description; yet how mean did they all appear, in comparison with those which throng Hyde Park! I am certain that any English chariot and horses (however plain and unpretending) would have been gazed at, and followed here as a miracle of elegance and beauty. At night we took a box at the Opera (_La Scala_), which is universally allowed to be the largest and most superb in Europe. It was built by Pierre Marini, in 1778, and did indeed amaze us at the first _coup d'oeil_, as a stupendous miracle of art: but we found the same want of brilliancy and cheerfulness as in all other foreign theatres, and the performance (to say nothing of the performers) was execrable. Many of the boxes were shut up; but, by the lights which twinkled through the green latticed blinds, we perceived that persons were in them; and once, upon this sullen screen being casually opened for a few moments, we saw them playing at cards, and eating ices, without the slightest idea of attending to what was passing upon the stage. The latter refreshment is quite indispensable in this hot climate, and it was brought to us in the course of the evening: _Camporese_ was the _prima donna_ here; but we did not see her, as she was unwell during the time of our stay at Milan. A Signora _Gioja_ appeared in her stead, who made us all triste enough by her tame and stupid performance. The ballet was _ennuyant à la mort_: its strength lay in its numbers, and the manner of grouping them; for as to the dancing it was----in short, there was no such thing which properly merited that name. The theatre is far too large for the purposes of hearing (much less of enjoying) music; and there was such a stunning echo, that the noise of the enormous band of musicians in the orchestra was almost rendered insupportable to a delicate and refined ear. They played also (to my indignant astonishment) so loud as to drown the voices of the singers, instead of keeping the instruments under, and subservient to them; which I had imagined was a rule so firmly established, as to render all deviation impossible in a country which boasts itself to be the _veritable_ land of harmony. In short, we infinitely preferred the opera at Turin, and were completely disappointed with _La Scala_. Indeed, I consider our own Opera in the Haymarket (however fastidiously abused by _soi-disant connoisseurs_, and although it appears like a nutshell in point of size, when compared with this overgrown rival), to be indisputably superior in every real advantage. The whole of Italy (as I afterwards learned from some good judges at Geneva) is at present lamentably deficient in talent, both vocal and instrumental; and whatever it affords of any celebrity is sure to come over to England, where a richer harvest is to be reaped than can be found in any other country. I mean not, however, ignorantly to deny the superior excellence of the Italian school of music--superior (as all real judges must allow) to ours or any other. It is the original parent of excellence, the nursing mother of true genius. Whatever has charmed us in the art has sprung from the principles it inculcates; and when, even in the national melodies of Ireland and Scotland, I have heard a finished singer enchant and touch the feelings of their enthusiastic sons, I have been perfectly aware that what they have blindly insisted upon as being preferable to the Italian school, has in reality been formed upon its rules; and when I hear a contrary doctrine asserted, I look upon it as nonsense, unworthy even the trouble of contradiction. I only mean to say, that the present singers, performers, and composers of Italy are anxious to transplant themselves to the fostering protection of British taste and munificence.

We left Milan at an early hour the next morning, and found the country beyond, both flat and ugly for some distance. We saw great quantities of white mulberry trees (for the benefit of the silk-worms) in every direction, and many poplars (being now in Lombardy). The leaf of the latter we observed to be much larger than those in England: perhaps the tree degenerates in some measure in our climate. The maple also springs in abundance, and I suppose there must be a proportionate number of nightingales in consequence, if the old saying is true, that these birds love the maple better than any other tree. The postillion wore the usual Austrian costume, common to his profession: it bore some resemblance to that of an old English jester, being a yellow jacket with black worsted lace, and a red waistcoat.

At Rho we passed by a church, called _Notre Dame des Miracles_; where signs and wonders are believed to be displayed even in these philosophical days. All the peasants and _bourgeoises_ wore beautiful coral necklaces, brought from the Mediterranean, of the true light pink colour, which is so expensive in England. The infants here were cramped up in swaddling-clothes, and had no caps upon their heads; while the want of hair, peculiar to their tender age, gave them the air of little unfledged birds. But now the period approached when we were to encounter a more serious and hair-breadth scape than any which had occurred during our tour. Passing through the town of Gallarate, near the foot of the Alps, we were stopped by a gentleman in an open travelling carriage, whose rueful visage, scared air, and animated gesticulations, awakened our most lively curiosity and attention. He was a merchant of Neufchatel, and perceiving that we were proceeding upon the same route which he had just passed, desired us most earnestly to stop at Gallarate, and furnish ourselves with a couple of _gens d'armes_, unless we wished to encounter the same fate from which he had just escaped. He then went on to relate a most terrific account of his having been robbed (he might have added, frightened) by three horrible-looking banditti, masked, and armed with carabines, pistols, and stilettos! They had forced his postillion to dismount, and throwing him under the carriage, with his head beneath the wheel (to prevent his offering any interruption to their plunder), proceeded to attack him; and, finally, spared his life, only by his consenting to part with every thing valuable in his possession. They not only took his watch and all his money, but a chain of his wife's hair, which they discovered around his neck; but their ill humour was great, and vehemently expressed, upon finding this poor man's property a less considerable booty than they had expected. All this had passed within a quarter of an hour from the time at which we met him at Gallarate. Of course, we felt ourselves much indebted for the warning; and as my courage had completely sunk under the recital, and I found it (like that of Bob Acres, in the Rivals) "oozing out at my fingers' ends," at every word this gentleman spoke, my husband took compassion upon me, and accordingly despatched messengers to summon the attendance of a couple of well-mounted and completely armed Austrian soldiers, with long moustaches, and fierce martial-looking countenances. These men afterwards rode with us (one on each side the carriage) until we had completely passed the borders, and had entered the king of Sardinia's dominions; where we were assured of finding perfect safety. No event of the kind had occurred for the last twelve months; but we were astonished and indignant at the supine apathy of the police, who did not appear to have the smallest intention of sending any soldiers after the robbers, or of making exertions to secure them. These Austrian states have a bad reputation, as we were told by our host at Lans le Bourg, and were warned by him of the possibility of a similar adventure. Mr. W., who was so good as to undertake to order the guards for me at Gallarate, found that not a single person he encountered in the town understood French, and he was obliged to be conducted to the schoolmaster (the only man capable of conversing in the language), before he could make our wishes comprehended and attended to. My husband remained in the carriage to scold me into better spirits; for, I confess, I never remember to have been more frightened in my life.

The country beyond this place began to improve in picturesque beauty; the Alps (to which we had approached very close), and woody hills in the distance, forming very imposing features in the landscape. Here we were met by several English carriages, protected, as we were, by the attendance of _gens d'armes_; which proved that fear had not been confined to my bosom alone, and that other people felt the same necessity of precaution: a black servant upon the box, grimly leaning upon a monstrous sabre, formed an additional guard. We now entered an irregular forest, where the postillion (who was the same person that had driven Monsieur Bovet) shewed us the spot where the ruffians had issued forth. It was a fine place for a romantic adventure of this sort; and never did I feel so thankful as when I cast my eyes upon the spirited horsemen, who continued to keep close by the side of our vehicle, giving me now and then looks of mirthful encouragement: indeed they seemed to consider the business as a party of pleasure, and we heard them laughing more than once as they rode along.

At Sesto a mob gathered round the carriage, as it stopped at the post-house; and I am not sure that they did not at first mistake us for state prisoners. Our postillion was now truly a great man! the centre of an open-mouthed, staring circle, wild with curiosity, to whom he held forth at length upon the danger he had undergone. Here we crossed a ferry over the river Tessin, which divides the dominions of Austria from those of Sardinia. The richness and grace of the wooded banks, which fringed this fine stream, delighted us; and the face of the whole country gradually smiled and brightened, till it at last expanded into the most glorious burst of exquisite loveliness that the imagination can conceive: for now we first beheld the _Lago Maggiore_, embosomed in romantic hills, with the superb Alps rising beyond them, and its shores studded with innumerable hamlets, villas, and cottages. The declining sun shed a warm colouring of inexpressible beauty upon the calm surface of this celebrated lake, whose waters, smooth and glassy, pure and tranquil, seemed indeed, in the words of Byron, to be a fit

"Mirror and a bath
"For Beauty's youngest daughters."

It was impossible not to kindle into enthusiasm as we gazed upon a scene of such Armida-like fascination. Why should I attempt a description of the Borromean Isles, the Isola Madre, Isola Bella, and other fairy-green gems, which adorned the bosom of this queen of waters? They have been already so celebrated by the pencil and the lyre, that my efforts would be those of presumption. I find it quite too much even to relate the effect they produced upon our minds; for no words can adequately express our feelings of admiration and surprise!

We were now once more in Piedmont, and the road led us through the town of Arona, built upon the shores of the lake, which is full forty miles in length. We saw a picturesque figure of a peasant girl kneeling upon the banks, and laving (like a young naiad) her long tresses in the stream. There is a fine grey ruin of a castle upon the left, as you enter Arona, and a chain of bold cliffs covered with vineyards, with several cottages, peeping out from amid bowers of fragrance, near their craggy summits. A refreshing breeze tempered the still ardent heat of day: it seemed to rise upon us, in a gale of balmy softness, from the water, whose placid waves are sometimes, however, ruffled into sudden anger, by storms of wind from the surrounding Alps; and many unfortunate accidents to boatmen, &c. arise in consequence. It would be difficult to imagine any thing in nature more luxuriantly beautiful than the hanging gardens belonging to the little villas in this neighbourhood; where standard peach-trees, olives, filberts, grapes, figs, Turkey wheat, orange blossoms, carnations, and all the tribe of vegetables, are mingled together in rich confusion, and the vines trained upon low trellises slope down to the water's edge; while, among the grass at the feet of the taller trees, the pumpkin trails her golden globes and flowers. We remarked several pretty faces, in a style neither wholly Italian nor French, but which formed an agreeable and happy mixture of both. The ever odious _goître_, nevertheless, sometimes obtruded its horrid deformity among them; and it was an equal mortification to our dreams of perfection to observe, that even in the little towns, built in the very heart of all this sweetness and purity, the most disgusting smells (indicative of innately filthy habits) perpetually issued forth, poisoning every street, and mingling their pollutions with the fragrant breath of the mountain gale. But now the fanciful crags on the opposite side of the lake began to assume a purplish blue tint, deeply influenced by, and half lost in, the shadow of lowering clouds, which (fast gathering round their summits in dark and misty volumes) foreboded an approaching storm. Bright and catching lights, however, still lingered upon the bright sails of distant boats, and upon the no less white walls of the little villages; which were built so close upon the shore as to seem as if they sprung from the bosom of the waves.

We arrived at Feriola (inn _La Posta_), a small town, washed by the same transparent waters, and sheltered by granite mountains (covered with a mossy vegetation mixed with vineyards), which rose abruptly and immediately above the walls of the house: here we passed the night; the storm was just beginning, as we drove up to this welcome refuge: flashes of red and forked lightning shot fiercely down from the Alpine heights, and were quenched in the dark lake below; while peals of hollow thunder reverberating from the adjacent caverns, increased the awful effect of the whole. Torrents of rain soon followed, and lasted without intermission for many hours. We slept well, our beds being free from vermin, although of the humblest sort, without curtain or canopy, and covered with quilts which were very like stable rugs. They had been occupied before us, by dukes and duchesses; who, although not used to more comforts than those which surround me in my own happy home, had certainly reason to expect more stateliness of accommodation; necessity, however, has no law, and I dare say they were as glad as I was to avail themselves of clean sheets, and a substantial roof over head, after the fatigues of travelling. The whole of this little inn was built of granite, from the neighbouring quarries. We rose the next morning at four, and as I drest by the yet imperfect light, which streamed into the room through the lowly casement, I was interested in observing the different appearances of nature, in the midst of such wild scenery, and at so early an hour.

The dewy mists were slowly rising from the valley, which smiled in all the fresh loveliness of morning, as they gradually rolled off, and settled round the brows of the higher mountains like a shadowy veil. The grass smelt strongly of thyme and balm, after the late rain, and seemed to be eagerly relished by a flock of sheep, which two shepherdess figures were leading up the winding path. This fair prospect did not last long; a heavy rain re-commenced; and as we proceeded upon our journey we could hardly see our route amid the mountains, from the dense and heavy fog which obscured every object. All nature truly appeared to be weeping; this is no merely poetical term, but the truth: there are some things which cannot be adequately described in the common expressions of prose, and this is one of them.

We passed Monte Rosa, which is fifteen thousand feet in height: a beautiful little church hung upon its shelving side, built in a style that gave it much the air of the Sybil's temple. In all parts of the country through which we had gone, we observed numerous shrines of the Virgin; but instead of a simple and appropriate statue, which good taste might reasonably have hoped to find within, they were constantly disgraced by a paltry gaudy painting, in distemper. The outside walls of houses, also, were generally daubed in the same ridiculous manner, and afforded us perpetual cause of exclamation against the _melange_ of real and false taste, which Italy thus exhibits. We were sorry to have missed seeing (near Arona, in our preceding day's journey) the celebrated colossal statue of St. Carlo Borromeo in bronze; which, rearing its proud height far above the surrounding woods, forms a very grand and noble spectacle: a man (in speaking of its proportions to Mr. B.) told him that the head alone held three persons, and that he himself had stood within the cavity of the nose! I believe it is seventy feet from the ground.

We passed over a bridge on the river Toscia, a graceful serpentine stream, whose waters were of a milky hue, owing to the heavy rains. Here we met a peasant, wearing a singular sort of cloak, made of long dry silky rushes, admirably adapted to resist and throw off the wet; he looked at a distance like a moving thatched hut, his hat forming the chimney, and we afterwards saw several women and children in the same costume. The common people also use a rude kind of umbrella of divers gaudy colours, the frame and spokes being made of clumsy wood.

At Domo d'Ossola we stopped to take refreshment at _la Posta_, a most comfortable and cleanly inn; every thing was sent up neatly, and really tempted the fastidious traveller to "eat without fear:" a degree of heroism which I confess I could not always command, not feeling sure that I might not be poisoned by some of the dishes; although it would have been by dirt, not arsenic. This is almost the last town in the Sardinian dominions, for as soon as you have crossed the Simplon, you enter Switzerland. This arduous task we now commenced, taking four horses instead of the usual three. We ascended in a zigzag direction, which seems to be the plan upon which all roads cut through very high mountains are formed; the present much resembled those by which we had descended Mont Cenis. Here we had the leisure and opportunity of contemplating nature in her grandest forms! The wild fig-tree sprung from the sides of the most profound ravines, overhanging gulfs from which the affrighted eye recoiled; and at the base of the most stupendous mountains lay valleys of inimitable verdure and luxuriance. An Alpine foot bridge, like a slight dark line, crossed a rapid river here, and was dimly discovered at intervals, amid the snowy foam of the waves; there were also frequent waterfalls, pouring their sounding floods from immense heights above us. At this spot, Mr. B. tied a handkerchief over my eyes, for three or four minutes: I thought I heard the noise of water in my ears, louder and more hollow than usual; when he suddenly removed the handkerchief, and I beheld myself in the first of those astonishing galleries of the Simplon, of which so much has justly been said by all travellers. They were half cut, half blasted by gunpowder, through the solid rock, and have the appearance of long grottos, with rude windows, or rather chasms in the sides, to admit light, and through which we discovered, with a shuddering sensation of admiring wonder, the awful precipices and steeps around. It was delightful to contemplate them while thus in a situation of perfect security; a species of feeling analogous to that which I have sometimes experienced, when comfortably housed beneath the domestic roof, during the raving of a wintry storm! How different was the aspect of the ancient road; the view of which, as it dangerously wound along the opposite mountains, nearly blocked up by fallen masses of rock, overgrown with tangled shrubs and weeds, and undefended by even the slightest wall from the yawning abysses, which frowned horribly beneath, really made my heart quake with terror! There are rude crosses by the way side, erected here, at long intervals; sad monuments of the tragical end of former unfortunate travellers. Nothing can be more terrific than the showers of stony fragments from the overhanging rocks, which frequently fall here during stormy weather; at particular seasons it is certain destruction to attempt to pass. We observed the lower and more level ground to be strewn so thickly with these formidable masses, that it brought to my mind the ancient story of Jupiter's wars with the giants; the place indeed truly resembled the state of a field of battle after one of those mighty engagements.

The parish church of Trasqueras is an object of high astonishment; we passed it, not without adding our individual tribute of wonder. It is built upon the topmost verge of a barren mountain, at a frightful height. Apparently no human power could have conveyed thither the materials for its erection; we could only reconcile the existence of the fact, by supposing that there must have been a quarry upon the spot. The priest who does duty there, and the congregation whose zeal leads them to scale the dreadful precipice to attend public worship, are in some danger, I should think, of being canonized for martyrs! But to speak more seriously, there is something infinitely impressive in the idea of a little band of humble and obscure mortals thus meeting together to worship the Creator in such a spot of wild and solitary sublimity. These scenes most certainly tend to elevate the imagination, and to fill the heart, with strong feelings of devotional adoration and awful respect. It is not _only_ "those who go down to the great waters," who see "the wonders of the Lord!" We remarked a cottage here, in the style of the most romantic hermitage, close to a raving flood, in the frightful strait of Yselle. The living rock formed its roof, and the sides were of flat uncemented stones; a rude door of pine wood shut in its inhabitants, for inhabited it certainly must have been, as a little pile of faggots for winter firing evidently evinced. Gold dust is sometimes found in the beds of the surrounding torrents. There is no end to the varieties of the Simplon: we sometimes crossed from one mountain to another; then dived into the dark entrails of the rocks; now wound along narrow valleys at their feet, and at last rose (by a gentle ascent) to the proud summit of the loftiest glaciers, far above the rolling clouds. In some places our eye rested with delight upon the rich green of the chestnut and beech, in others all vegetation seemed wholly to cease. The rhododendron (_note_ P.) flourishes here in perfection; it grows where few other shrubs or plants are able to exist, braves the severity of the keenest blasts of winter, and affords firing to those cottagers who cannot easily procure other wood. Its blossoms are of a lovely pink, and from this circumstance it is called the "rose of the Alps." These regions are subject to perpetual avalanches; the top of every stone post that marked the boundary of our road, at about three yards distance one from the other, was in many places knocked off, by the continual falling of masses from the rocks above, and now and then, the whole of the posts had given way, as well as large fir-trees, which commonly grow out of the shelving sides of the precipices. Just at the entrance of one of the grand galleries, we crossed over a stone bridge, hanging in mid air above a tremendous gulf; the river Doveria boiling far below, fed by a cataract from the heights, near the source of which we passed: so near, indeed, that its foaming spray seemed almost to dash against the glass of our carriage windows. Bonaparte had established here (as well as upon Mont Cenis), a sort of _tavernettes_, or houses of relief for wayworn or distressed travellers. A few military now occasionally inhabit them, and the appropriate word _refuge_ is frequently inscribed over the doors. (_Note_ Q.) A piece of writing paper inserted in the cleft of a stick, by the road-side, here attracted our attention. We examined it, and found written thereon, _Viva Napoleone_! Our postillions appeared delighted, and exclaimed in a half-checked voice, _bravo_, _bravo_! Candidly speaking, one must be indeed fastidious not to be forcibly struck with the various noble works of that wonderful man. At all events we could not be surprised at his still existing popularity in the north of Italy, a part of the world where he has really done great good, and far less harm than any where else; and in so short a space of time also--so young a man--from so obscure an origin! It will not do to indulge in reflections upon what might have been, or I could not refrain, I am afraid, from wishing that (for the sake of the arts and sciences) he had known how to set bounds to his ambition. This passage of the Simplon alone is sufficient to immortalize his name, and as long as the mountains themselves exist, so must the memory of Bonaparte. It is quite the eighth wonder of the world. If he _is_ a fiend, he is not less than

"Arch-angel ruined!"

But I have done, lest those readers who have never crossed the Simplon, or gazed upon the other numerous monuments of his grand genius, should imagine that I am still (in the words of Pitt, as applied to Sheridan's speech upon Warren Hastings), "Under the influence of the wand of the Enchanter!"

Now I am on the subject of this stupendous passage of the Simplon, I am fortunate enough to present my readers with an engraving made by a friend, of a curious medal, struck in France, representing an immense colossal figure, which some modern Dinocrates had suggested to Bonaparte to have cut from the mountain of the Simplon, as a sort of Genius of the Alps. This was to have been of such enormous size, that all passengers should have passed between its legs and arms in zigzag directions: I do not know whether any attention was ever given to the proposal, but that the idea was not a new one, every schoolboy may learn, by looking into Lemprière's Dictionary, where he will find that a still more hyperbolical project was suggested to Alexander the Great, by one Dinocrates, an architect, who wished to cut Mount Athos into a gigantic figure of the monarch, that should hold a city in one hand, and a vast bason of water in the other. Alexander's reply was a fine piece of irony; "that he thought the idea magnificent, but he did not imagine the neighbouring country sufficiently fertile to feed the inhabitants of the said city."

We observed quantities of timber felled, and lying scattered about the dark forests; they consisted of a species of larch fir, I believe, straight, taper, and of a yellowish red.

At length we reached the village of the Simplon, where we dined and slept. It is only three or four and thirty miles from Domo d'Ossola, yet we were seven hours or more in accomplishing the distance, and had never stopped by the way for more than ten minutes. It was a continual ascent, but very gradual, and our inn here (_l'Etoile_) was four thousand five hundred feet above the level of the sea. We found other travellers before us assembled in the only sitting-room.--Lord F----, his tutor, and another young gentleman: they appeared all to be sensible, well-bred people, and we rejoiced that accident had not thrown us among less agreeable companions. The next morning, we left our auberge, after breakfast, with which we thought it prudent to fortify ourselves, on account of the severity of the cold. All the rooms were obliged to be heated by stoves, as it was (to all outward appearance and feeling) the depth of winter, in its most rigid form; the day before, we had been almost fainting with heat in the valleys, yet when we rose this morning, the mountains around us were entirely covered with snow, which had fallen during the night, accompanied by a rushing blast of wind and a heavy rain. We were now truly in the "land of the mountain and the flood," in the regions of mist and storm. I shuddered at the sight, having been rendered miserable from want of sleep by the vermin, whose unremitting attacks completely broke my rest, and made me less able to encounter with proper _fortitude_ the fatigues of our still arduous journey. I learned upon this tour to feel a great horror at the expression of _soyez tranquille_, which deceitful words were constantly used by every _fille de chambre_, when I inquired if there were any of these disagreeable inhabitants in the beds, and I remarked that the more vehemently this _soyez tranquille_ was uttered, the more certain was I of being bit into a fever. We got into the carriage here in a gust of keen wind, so strong and impetuous that I could not stand without support. The women in these parts wear a black platter hat (sometimes ornamented with gold ribands), and the men a russet-brown suit of clothes with a scarlet waistcoat. A mixture of German and bad French is spoken amongst them. We passed by (during the continuation of our journey) the enormous glacier of ---- I know not exactly the proper name; but it sounded like _Roschbahtn_ in the guttural pronunciation of the postillion. Higher up, there was a gallery cut through the masses of frozen snow, but it is only used as a foot-way for passengers during the winter. We shortly afterwards saw the Hospice of the Simplon, built in a comparatively sheltered spot; yet by its outward appearance (resembling a sordid gloomy prison), I should think nothing but the last necessity would induce travellers to seek for refreshment within its walls. Mass had been performed there that morning, and we met several peasants returning from it: all persons journeying this way are entertained here gratis, but those whose circumstances can afford it are expected to make some little present to the monks. We observed some dogs about the entrance, which we concluded were those kept for the purpose of finding benighted travellers. The colour of the rocks in those places which were not covered with snow was singular, being of a light _aqua marine_, occasioned by the lichens which grew upon them. Large eagles, formidable from their strength and boldness, are frequently seen amidst these dreary wastes. I was soon quite wearied by the bleak spectacle of such wide desolation, my eyes ached with the dazzling brightness of the snows, and I began sincerely to wish the passage over. The ascent and descent altogether is forty-two miles; coming down from a height of seven thousand feet, we could not see three yards before us, being completely enveloped in a thick dense fog. It seemed like plunging into a fearful gulf of vapours! Such a mist I never could have _imagined_.

The road now led us though tall forests of pine, darkly magnificent, which grew upon the shelving sides of the precipitous descent. Upon the jutting crags, we occasionally beheld the fearless goat, bounding about, enjoying the sense of liberty, and snuffing the keen air of his native mountains; a child or two, also, sometimes appeared in almost equally dangerous situations, at the door of a wooden hut, called a _chalet_, built of timber (of a reddish tint), and much in the form of an ark. A little thinly scattered underwood of birch, &c. with coltsfoot twining round the roots, now began to evince our approach to more hospitable regions, and the sensation of piercing cold in some measure abated. The sun made several felicitous attempts to struggle through the heavy and obscuring clouds; and a prospect (of which we caught a transient glimpse between two enormous rocks) seemed to open like an enchanted vision of ineffable brightness and beauty. During this interval of a moment, we beheld a narrow but fertile valley, a river, with hills of vivid green rising beyond, bounded in the distant horizon by mountains of glowing purple, and smiled upon by a summer sky of the clearest blue. Suddenly it was brilliantly illuminated by a partial gleam of sun, and thus discovered, (sparkling through a thin veil of still lingering mist) it seemed to break upon us like a lovely dream. I could have fancied it Voltaire's Eldorado, or the gay, unreal show of fairy land, seen by Thomas the Rhymer, in Scott's Minstrelsy of the Border. Indeed sober language has no words or terms to describe its singular effect. Apropos to sobriety of language: Although there is nothing so wearing as hyperbolical and exaggerated expressions, applied on common or insignificant occasions, and although I consider them in that case to be the resource of a weak capacity, which is incapable of judicious restraint and discrimination, it is equally insupportable to hear the real wonders and charms of nature or art spoken of with tame and tasteless apathy. Those persons who have soul enough to feel and appreciate them must either vent their just enthusiasm, in terms which to common minds sound romantic and poetical, or else resolve to be wholly silent. We reached the end of the Simplon, and changed our tired horses at Brieg. We were now in Switzerland.

Nothing can be more suddenly and accurately marked than the difference of feature, as well as costume, between the Italian and Swiss peasants, (I more particularly allude to the women), and it would be impossible for any person of the least observation to mistake one for the other. The latter are frequently hale, clean, and fresh-looking, with cheerful open countenances; but adieu to grace, to expression, to beauty! We left all these perfections on the other side of the Alps. The children, too, struck us (in general) as plain and uninteresting. We were not greatly impressed by the entrance to the _Pays du Valais_, having already passed through scenery of the same nature so much superior in Savoy and Italy; but it is certainly romantic and pretty in some parts. How naturally one falls into judging by comparison! Had it been possible to have immediately entered the Valais upon leaving the monotonous plains of France, we should have thought the former highly sublime and beautiful. The barberry and elder flourish here in every hedge; also great quantities of the wild clematis. The rocky banks are fringed with birch, hazle, heath, and juniper, and between them is the deep rolling turgid Rhone, skirted with tall reeds and willows.

The climate still continued to be chilly and disagreeable. Although it was only the 8th of September, the weather rather resembled that during the last days of November, or commencement of the next dreary month; and in the midst of this picturesque and romantic scenery, I found my imagination dwelling with great pertinacity and satisfaction upon the charms of a blazing fire and a comfortable inn. I did my utmost to shake off such vulgar and unsentimental ideas, but they would recur again and again.

We here passed a fall of the Rhone, but were rather disappointed in its force and magnitude. Our road lay through wild fir woods for a considerable length of way, the snowy tops of the glaciers peeping above them, forming quite a scene for the pencil of Salvator Rosa. We journeyed on, almost in total silence, the little bells at the horses' heads alone disturbing the breathless stillness of these solitary glades, emerging from which, we now crossed a bridge upon the Rhone, which here assumes a character of strength and grandeur, flowing with rapidity, and emulating in its width an arm of the sea.

Night and her shadows drew near, and we began to wish for the comforts of the friendly auberge; but, owing to continual delays of horses, postillions, &c, we did not reach the town of Sierre until eight o'clock, where we intended to have slept; but found upon our arrival that no beds were to be had, and the place itself wore so forlorn, dismal, and dirty an appearance, that we hardly regretted the circumstance, and submitted with a good grace to the inevitable necessity of pursuing our route even at that late hour. But ere this could be accomplished we were obliged to wait (in the carriage) till nine, for horses to carry us on; for there was at that time an immense run upon the road. In this melancholy interval our lamps were lit, and the moon arose; the latter (faintly glimmering amid dark rolling clouds) feebly illuminated a road which led us by the side of a terrible precipice, where part of the guardian wall was broken down. The pass was accounted perilous on that account; but there was no possible remedy. I had overheard my husband and Mr. W. talking of it at Sierre, and trying whether it was not practicable to avoid it by securing any sort of accommodation at the wretched auberge: this, however, being totally out of the question, they did not acquaint me with the terrors of the road by which we were in consequence obliged to pass ere we could attain shelter for the night at the next habitable place: I felt their kindness, and did not undeceive them as to my perfect information upon the subject until we had safely reached the end of our day's journey; but I was truly thankful and relieved when that happy goal appeared, in the shape of the town of Sion, capital of the Valais. Lord F. and party (having gone on first) had politely undertaken to order dinner for us at the _Lion d'Or_, and to that house we accordingly drove up, half dead with fatigue. Here another mortification awaited us; for so many English had previously arrived, and filled the rooms, beds, &c, that accommodation for us was impossible. We, therefore, went to an inferior inn (called _Le Croix Blanc_), where we knocked the people up, and in spite of their being forced from their beds to receive us, we found the utmost celerity, civility, and comfort in every respect. The beds were excellent (their linen furniture fresh washed, and looking inviting to enter), the floors (oh! prodigy of cleanliness) were neatly swept, and our refreshments cooked in a wonderfully short space of time, served with cheerful readiness, and in a clean manner.

The next morning we opened our eyes upon a beautifully picturesque landscape. A great delay, however, again took place with regard to horses, as an English family had arrived during the night, and taken away eight. They intended to have slept at _Le Croix Blanc_, as we had done, but were fastidiously disgusted by the look of the inn. Unhappy novices! they little knew what a paradise of comfort it afforded, when compared with those which they would afterwards necessarily encounter, and for the shelter of which they would soon learn to be thankful! The waiter here was remarkably attentive, and appeared a truly simple, good-tempered, artless creature. Mr. B. was so much satisfied with his behaviour, that he increased the usual fee; for which small gratuity the poor fellow thanked us again and again. We found our bills particularly reasonable, and the host a most amusing and obliging person: he was one of the richest _bourgeois_ in Sion, and quite a character. We asked him, amongst other questions, "what was the chief manufacture of the place?" and he replied, with a ridiculous shrug of the shoulders, "_Des Enfans_." This man possessed a _vigne_ upon the mountains, and brought us a present of a fine basket of grapes from thence, much lamenting that we would not remain with him another day, as "he would then have put his own particular horses into a little vehicle of the country, kept for his use and that of his family, and would have had the pleasure of driving us to see his vineyards, and also two hermitages, in the neighbourhood, which were very curious."

Mr. B. was taken extremely unwell this morning, and had a terrible attack of faint sickness, owing, as we then imagined, to having fasted so many hours the day before; but we soon found that it was, in fact, the beginning of a sort of ague and fever. (_Note_ E.)