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nal snows that crown this lofty region of silence, and solitude, and majesty, appeared at first view to be white clouds; but they were motionless masses shining in pure whiteness under a cloudless morning sun. The higher and more distant summits were enveloped in a thin vapour. These enormous masses of rock stretched to the right and to the left, until the eye lost the extremities of the line behind the mountains of Savoy, and of the cantons of Vaud and Freyberg. No sound disturbed me in the conteinplation of this magnificent picture, excepting the faint tinkling of distant bells carried by some cattle feeding on the hills of Ï'Aix. The sight has wrought deeply upon me. It is most truly "the monarch of mountains," as Byron emphatically terms it. What a magnificent theatre for the appalling action of thunder and lightning, and all the cloudy majesty of storms! The day was clear and beautiful; and from the heights of Mount Jura I drank some drops of heightened, though indescribable, feeling. There was a scene before me such as no pencil could paint, no language describe it was a glimpse of the land of magic and lofty wonders!

About 12 o'clock we reached Gex, after a long and fatiguing alternation of ascents and descents, dangerous enough for heavy carriages and unruly horses, as our horses are on account of their entireness. They are hot-blooded, and restive, but small and slender compared with the English carriage horses. Our passports were examined here. I am now (half past 12) sitting at the vine-encompassed window of our Auberge, at Gex, from which I have a view of Mont Blanc, presenting his elevated and impassive snows, to the sultry beams of the noonday sun. The still blue waters of the lake of Geneva are sleeping quietly in its fertile valley, so richly variegated with vines, and trees, and hedges, and green spots of meadow ground, and brown shorn fields, of which the harvest has been gathered. On the left, part of the lake is concealed by a gently sloping hill, on which are cultivated fields, and a few houses half hidden by trees. On the right, the extremity of the lake is visible, and seems to stretch almost to the feet of the hills of Savoy. A thin bluish vapour has overspread

some of the Alpine summits that were visible in the morning. I am sitting in a vine arbour in the garden, with my back to the lake Leman; behind the Auberge rises that range of hills called Mont Jura, from which we descended into the valley; to the right rises the village church, with its short white steeple; the bell is at this moment ringing for prayers; the people here ought to be devout-Mont Blanc would inspire devotion in an atheist.

Milan, 7th October.

I am now in the land of wonders and far-fained beauty, Italy! We arrived here yesterday about 7 o'clock in the afternoon, and shall remain till to-morrow morning. We have had hard work of it in passing the Alps by the Simplon, the weather was so exceedingly bad; heavy and constant rain and thick mist clothing the mountain from top to bottom. On leaving Glyss (near Brieg, at the end of the Vallais) we took guides, and three additional horses to each voiture. Cervelli was very unwilling to set out, on account of the dangers arising from continued rain and impenetrable mist; but the love of money got the better of his fears, and he resolved at last to venture rather than pay expences at Glyss. Off we set before day break, (about half-past 2 in the morning,) and began to ascend the celebrated road by the Simplon, one of the most lasting and stupendous monuments of Bonaparte's enterprising spirit. I can give you no idea of the wildness and horrible sublimity of the scenery. After sunrise the mist began to clear away partially, although the rain continued, and we had occasional glimpses of the high and barren mountains, and deep and solitary valleys among which we passed. The road winds along the side of the Simplon, (in Italian Sempione,) a very high mountain, on the top of which are six glaciers. The road borders on the most hideous precipices, and you hear below you, at an immense depth, the rushing of a stream, that passes through the middle of the valley. This stream is seldom visible, on account of the frequent mists that overspread these

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regions of thick ribbed ice." About 10 o'clock in the morning we reached the village of the Simplon, the highest point of the road, and rested there for

an hour or two at one of the houses of refuge, built for the accommodation of travellers. We had some poor fare by way of breakfast, and warmed our benumbed limbs by the side of a wood fire that blazed on the hearth. The air extremely chill. Set off again and begin to descend on the other side, having left the three additional horses and our guide before we reached the barrier near the village of Simplon. We passed innumerable bridges, and several long excavations, or tunnels, cut through the solid rock. These dark hideous passages are among the most extraordinary works of this singular road. One of them is about 300 feet in length, and cut through the eternal ice of a glacier! But it is needless to attempt a description of the route, to know what it is, you East see it. You would imagine it the result of the labours of Aladdin's ge, not of human beings. It was mpleted in three years, at an imRense expence, and by the daily and htly efforts of a vast number of workmen. We reached Domo d'Ossela when it was quite dark, so could see nothing of the place. We left it at 3 o'clock next morning, and arrived at Gravelona, beside the Lago Maggiore, about 10 o'clock in the forenoon. Mist and rain hindered us from seeing the beauties of the scenery at this place. Weather excessively cold. Rested two hours, and set off for Sesto Calende, where we were to sleep. The mist cleared away a little, and allowed us (in passing along the side of Lago Maggiore) to see the beautiful Borromean Islands in the lake. One of them is covered with beautiful Italian buildings, and rich trees and shrubs, and is the occasional residence of the family to whom these islands belong, and from whom they take their name. Near Arona there is an immense colossal statue of the famous Charles Borromeo, upon the summit of a hill on the left side of the road going to Sesto Calende. This statue is of bronze, and is 66 feet in height, exclusive of the pedestal, which is 46 feet; it rises most majestically out of the trees that cover the hill, and is seen a great way off. It is reckoned a very fine work of art. There is a stair-case inside, by which you ascend to the head. An Italian author says that a man (not very big) may sit down conveniently in the nose

of this colossus. We reached Sesto Calende about 8, crossing the Tesino on a raft. Evening dreadfully bad; piercingly cold, and dense mist, and heavy rains. The sides of the road from Gravelona to the ferry, embellished with the most beautiful plantations of vines; the vines supported by rude wooden frames, and the huge thick clusters of ripe purple and white grapes hanging down from the top, ready for the hand of any one who entered into these luxuriant labyrinths. One of my fellow travellers ventured to alight and pull some of the grapes, but was seized in the act by a most singular figure of an Argus, who rushed out of a thicket of vines from the opposite side of the road, and presented an old musket to the thief's head,—the matter was accommodated after a horrible squabble in good Italian, bad Italian, and indifferent French. This guardian had half of an old sabre sticking out from his rump in the most grotesque manner imaginable, and was altogether a perfect caricature of armed humanity We started at six from Sesto Calende and reached Milan about seven. The road was not particularly interesting, and the weather execrable; a number of houses by the way were adorned with paintings of Madonnas and scriptural subjects in fresco upon the plastered walls; some of the paintings very good, but all injured by time and weather.

Florence, 15th Oct.

I am at last safely lodged at Schneider's Hotel, in the midst of this beautiful city, and its still more beautiful environs. The Arno flows within a few yards of the door,-it is the boundary of one side of the street. I arrived here this morning at half-past nine, having passed two days and a half among the Appenines, being half a day longer than we took to pass the Alps. On both occasions exceedingly bad weather. It is now very cold,much colder than I expected to find it, in this garden of Italy, as Tuscany is commonly called. My usual winter flannels are all put in requisition. I am just as well pleased now that I did not go on to Naples, as I once intended. This journey has been quite enough for me,-upon the whole hard work;-latterly roused at half-past two or three o'clock in the morning, after

10

Letters from Italy.

nal snows that crown this lofty region
of silence, and solitude, and majesty,
appeared at first view to be white
clouds; but they were motionless
masses shining in pure whiteness un-
The
der a cloudless morning sun.
higher and more distant summits were
enveloped in a thin vapour. These
enormous masses of rock stretched to
the right and to the left, until the eye
lost the extremities of the line behind
the mountains of Savoy, and of the
cantons of Vaud and Freyberg. No
sound disturbed me in the contemn-
plation of this magnificent picture,
excepting the faint tinkling of distant
bells carried by some cattle feeding on
The sight has
the hills of l'Aix.
It is most
wrought deeply upon me.
truly "the monarch of mountains," as
Byron emphatically terms it. What a
magnificent theatre for the appalling ac-
tion of thunder and lightning, and all
the cloudy majesty of storms! The day
was clear and beautiful; and from
the heights of Mount Jura I drank
some drops of heightened, though in-
There was
describable, feeling.
scene before me such as no pencil
could paint, no language describe-it
was a glimpse of the land of magic
and lofty wonders!

a

About 12 o'clock we reached Gex,
after a long and fatiguing alternation
of ascents and descents, dangerous
enough for heavy carriages and un-
ruly horses, as our horses are on ac-
count of their entireness. They are
hot-blooded, and restive, but small
and slender compared with the Eng-
Our passports
lish carriage horses.
were examined here. I am now (half
past 12) sitting at the vine-encom-
passed window of our Auberge, at
Gex, from which I have a view of
Mont Blanc, presenting his elevated
and impassive snows, to the sultry
The still
beams of the noonday sun.
blue waters of the lake of Geneva
are sleeping quietly in its fertile val-
ley, so richly variegated with vines,
and trees, and hedges, and green
spots of meadow ground, and brown
shorn fields, of which the harvest has
been gathered. On the left, part of
the lake is concealed by a gently slop-
ing hill, on which are cultivated fields,
and a few houses half hidden by trees.
On the right, the extremity of the
lake is visible, and seems to stretch
almost to the feet of the hills of Savoy.
A thin bluish vapour has overspread

some of the Alpine summits that were
visible in the morning. I am sitting in
a vine arbour in the garden, with my
back to the lake Leman; behind the
Auberge rises that range of hills cal-
led Mont Jura, from which we de-
scended into the valley; to the right
rises the village church, with its short
white steeple; the bell is at this mo-
ment ringing for prayers; the people
here ought to be devout-Mont Blanc
would inspire devotion in an atheist.

Milan, 7th October.

I am now in the land of wonders and far-fained beauty, Italy! We arrived here yesterday about 7 o'clock in the afternoon, and shall remain till to-morrow morning. We have had hard work of it in passing the Alps by the Simplon, the weather constant rain and thick mist clothing was so exceedingly bad; heavy and the mountain from top to bottom. On leaving Glyss (near Brieg, at the end of the Vallais) we took guides, voiture. Cervelli was very unwilling and three additional horses to each to set out, on account of the dangers arising from continued rain and impenetrable mist; but the love of money got the better of his fears, and he resolved at last to venture rather than pay expences at Glyss. Off we set before day break, (about half-past 2 in the morning,) and began to'ascend the celebrated road by the Simplon, one of the most lasting and stupendous monuments of Bonaparte's enterprising spirit. I can give you no idea of the wildness and horrible sublimity of the scenery. After sunrise the mist began to clear away partially, although the rain continued, and we had occasional glimpses of the high and barren mountains, and deep The road winds along the and solitary valleys among which we passed. side of the Simplon, (in Italian Sempione,) a very high mountain, on the top of which are six glaciers. The road borders on the most hideous precipices, and you hear below you, at an immense depth, the rushing of a stream, that passes through the middle of the valley. This stream is seldom visible, on account of the frequent mists that overspread these

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regions of thick ribbed ice." About 10 o'clock in the morning we reached the village of the Simplon, the highest point of the road, and rested there for

an hour or two at one of the houses of refuge, built for the accommodation of travellers. We had some poor fare by way of breakfast, and warmed our benumbed limbs by the side of a wood fire that blazed on the hearth. The air extremely chill. Set off again and began to descend on the other side, having left the three additional horses and our guide before we reached the barrier near the village of Simplon. We passed innumerable bridges, and several long excavations, or tunnels, cut through the solid rock. These dark hideous passages are among the most extraordinary works of this singular road. One of them is about 300 feet in length, and cut through the eternal ice of a glacier! But it is needless to attempt a description of the route, to know what it is, you must see it. You would imagine it the result of the labours of Aladdin's genie, not of human beings. It was completed in three years, at an immense expence, and by the daily and nightly efforts of a vast number of workmen. We reached Domo d'Ossola when it was quite dark, so could see nothing of the place. We left it at 3 o'clock next morning, and arrived at Gravelona, beside the Lago Maggiore, about 10 o'clock in the forenoon. Mist and rain hindered us from seeing the beauties of the scenery at this place. Weather excessively cold. Rested two hours, and set off for Sesto Calende, where we were to sleep. The mist cleared away a little, and allowed us (in passing along the side of Lago Maggiore) to see the beautiful Borromean Islands in the lake. One of them is covered with beautiful Italian buildings, and rich trees and shrubs, and is the occasional residence of the family to whom these islands belong, and from whom they take their name. Near Arona there is an immense colossal statue of the famous Charles Borromeo, upon the summit of a hill on the left side of the road going to Sesto Calende. This statue is of bronze, and is 66 feet in height, exclusive of the pedestal, which is 46 feet; it rises most majestically out of the trees that cover the hill, and is seen a great way off. It is reckoned a very fine work of art. There is a stair-case inside, by which you ascend to the head. An Italian author says that a man (not very big) may sit down conveniently in the nose

of this colossus. We reached Sesto Calende about 8, crossing the Tesino on a raft. Evening dreadfully bad; piercingly cold, and dense mist, and heavy rains. The sides of the road from Gravelona to the ferry, embellished with the most beautiful plantations of vines; the vines supported by rude wooden frames, and the huge thick clusters of ripe purple and white grapes hanging down from the top, ready for the hand of any one who entered into these luxuriant labyrinths. One of my fellow travellers ventured to alight and pull some of the grapes, but was seized in the act by a most singular figure of an Argus, who rushed out of a thicket of vines from the opposite side of the road, and presented an old musket to the thief's head,-the matter was accommodated after a horrible squabble in good Italian, bad Italian, and indifferent French. This guardian had half of an old sabre sticking out from his rump in the most grotesque manner imaginable, and was altogether a perfect caricature of armed humanity We started at six from Sesto Calende and reached Milan about seven. The road was not particularly interesting, and the weather execrable; a number of houses by the way were adorned with paintings of Madonnas and scriptural subjects in fresco upon the plastered walls; some of the paintings very good, but all injured by time and weather.

Florence, 15th Oct.

I am at last safely lodged at Schneider's Hotel, in the midst of this beautiful city, and its still more beautiful environs. The Arno flows within a few yards of the door,-it is the boundary of one side of the street. I arrived here this morning at half-past nine, having passed two days and a half among the Appenines, being half a day longer than we took to pass the Alps. On both occasions exceedingly bad weather. It is now very cold,— much colder than I expected to find it, in this garden of Italy, as Tuscany is commonly called. My usual winter flannels are all put in requisition. I am just as well pleased now that I did not go on to Naples, as I once intended. This journey has been quite enough for me,-upon the whole hard work;-latterly roused at half-past two or three o'clock in the morning, after

three or four hours' sleep. This was a revolution with a vengeance in my habits of life,-then miserable fare not eatable, to support the system under this extraordinary exertion.

This house of Schneider's is the most superb thing of the kind I have ever seen, and is at present filled with English people. My man, Vincenzo, has been more useful to me than I can possibly tell you, he has, among other things, saved me a great deal of money during the journey; for the impositions upon travellers, who have nobody to fight their battles, and to know what is right and proper, and to give no more than is just, are enormous, and rascally to a degree that you have no idea of at home. Many a dreadful engagement he has had for me on the way, and much has his throat suffered in the cause within my astonished hearing. I should have been utterly pillaged if he had not been with me; I could not have had a morsel of any thing, without paying ten prices for it ;-the vetturino would not interfere, because he always takes care to keep on the best terms with the Aubergistes. As it is, my journey has cost me 17 Louis (equal to L. 17 Sterling) to the vetturino,-28 francs to his postilions, and about 250 francs for breakfasts, luncheons, wine, (drinkable wine,) and other little things. The 17 Louis is about onehalf of the usual fare, but Cervelli was returning home, and wanted to get back as fast as he could. Robberies are now very frequent again on the road between Rome and Naples. I say again, because the French, when they had possession of the country, kept these vagabonds in complete order. Cervelli was stopped on that road, and his crew of passengers, together with himself, and servants, plundered of every article they had,: he lost L. 25. The reappearance of these dangerous vagabonds, is owing to the number of disbanded soldiers, and the too gentle exercise of that power which ought to crush them:they come two or three at a time, (according to their intelligence of the strength of the party they mean to rob,) and demand the money and goods of the travellers, and if any resistance is attempted, they give the signal to a body of thirty or forty at a little distance, which advances in a

twinkling, and the whole travellers are murdered on the spot.

I am now in danger of becoming perfectly solitary in the midst of thousands of human beings. Vincenzo, who came from Paris with me, and has been so singularly kind and attentive to me, is obliged to go after his own affairs, and I fear will leave me altogether, for he talks of going back to his family (in Paris) in a very short time. This man is an admirable specimen of the Tuscan character,-were they all as good, they would not do for this world. I shall be exceedingly ill off without him, but necessity overrules every thing-even the wishes of a good heart. I wish you knew this man. I have never seen any thing like him in the lower walks of life.

In passing through Milan, I visited the celebrated cathedral there. It is a most superb edifice of marble, of amazing extent and richness, but unfinished for want of money, or activity, or both. There are upwards of 4000 fine statues disposed on the outside of this building, besides a great number of figures in relievo. I think it is too rich,-such a vast profusion of ornament, so many projections of the walls, and so many spires shooting up from these projections, and crowned with statues lost to the eye by their great elevation, seem to me not very well designed,-but still the whole astonishes one by its magnificent extent, and materials, and workman ship;—the inside is very spacious, and is peculiarly grand and solemn in its appearance. How poor is the appearance of our churches compared with this, even in its unfinished state! even as it is, what a glorious temple for the worship of God! The knees are naturally inclined to bend in it.

I went to the Teatro della Scala, (one of the finest in Europe,) and heard a very good opera, the music by Carafa. Signora Testa (one of the finest singers in Italy) delighted me exceedingly; she was the chief support of the piece, but unluckily was taken ill, and lost her voice in the middle of the second act, so that the curtain fell before the opera was finished. She and Fodor in London, and Marandi in Paris, are the best singers I have heard. Her voice, intonation, expression, embellishment, and execution,

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