CHAPTER XI.
La Steccata—TheTeatro Farnese—Its magnificence—Its ruin—Would contain 9000—St. Jeronimo—Sir Thomas Lawrence—Alti Relievi—The overflowed Po—The infant saved—Placentia again—Misery of Piedmontese—Voghera—Tortona—Plains ofMarengo—The wrong road—The Tanaro overflowed—Asti—The Angelo and its reception—Moncaglieri—The vow, and the Virgin, who resembled a Duchess—The old Italian gentleman—Victor Amedée’sabdication—The old man’s arrest—His death atMoncaglieri—Susa—Its waterspouts—A chimney on fire—Mont Cenis—Fog and snow-storm—A postilion’s wonder—Danger oftourmente—Lanslebourg—A thick smoke and ill scent—Modane—Lesseillon—St. Michel.
Oct. 23rd.
Our morning perambulations commenced inauspiciously, for thespedizioniere,to whom here also it was necessary to apply, to order back our luggage, was in bed, and we went thence toLa Steccata. Its choir is now under repair. Curtained from curious eyes, there are here paintings from the hand ofCorreggioandCarracci; the frescoes of the fine dome so faded as to renew a regret for the wasting of genius on an art so perishable. I noticed two vessels for holy water, remarkablefor their execution; in the centre of each stands a small and beautiful figure, like theBénitier itself,in white marble; one being that of the Redeemer, the other, I think, of John the Baptist.
A priest conducted us to the subterranean chapel below, which contains the tombs of theFarnese. He raised his torch to show that on the most ancient of these (I think that of Alessandro) lay, harmless and rusting, the sword which had been grasped by the mouldering hand below.
We went thence to visit the ancientTeatro Farnese, which joins theAccademmia delle Belli Arti,and entered it, having ascended two flights of the wide stair. In the time ofAlessandro Farnese, it was an armoury, and by him, or byRanuccio, his son, on the occasion of a daughter’s marriage, transformed into a theatre, of which it is the verybeau idéal.The centre, lined with lead, which the French, when they came hither, took up for shot, was changed at will to a lake, the pit, which in amphitheatre surrounds it, and the boxes above, would contain nine thousand spectators: the stage, to which steps ascend, being far smaller in its opening than the width of the building, the whole audience could see perfectly. On either side of the proscenium, placed high on their chargers, arethe statues of the twoFarnese, originally only plaster, covering a wooden framework, and now crumbling away. The front of each box being a high open arch, shut in by a gilded chain only, the effect must have been brilliant when they were crowded with gorgeously dressed courtiers and ladies. Some of these chains are still suspended from arch to arch, dark and rusty. The ceiling was painted wood, representing historical subjects, and of this but a portion remains here and there, hanging ominously over the heads of the curious. Napoleon, when at Parma, unfortunately did not see this theatre, (so said our guide,) and it was left to decay during eighteen years—a fault which, as it was built wholly of wood, could not afterwards be repaired.
There are doors on either side of that opening into this theatre; on the right conducting to the ducal library, on the left to the picture gallery, which was a theatre likewise, and transformed to a museum by the Arch-duchess Maria Louisa, whose splendid bust by Canova occupies the further end, which a visitor, with but an hour to spare, should seek at once; for there, on the right hand, is the St. Jeronimo,Correggio’smasterpiece, of which Sir Thomas Lawrence said, it might be studied, never copied. Three times, duringthe day he spent at Parma, he returned to the contemplation of this picture; and truly painting never produced its superior, scarcely its rival. The Holy Child sits in his mother’s lap, with an angel beside him, who smiles as he exhibits to the Magdalen the page on which her sins were inscribed, now white as snow, and the Magdalen kisses the Saviour’s foot, and looks still repentant but consoled. St. Jeronimo occupies the foreground, a noble old figure, the limbs in such relief that he seems to stand forth from the canvass, yet still with the softness of flesh, and the “modesty of nature.”
The picture opposite this, of theMadonna alla Scodella,is a beautiful, though less perfect, picture, byCorreggioalso, as is the Descent from the Cross by its side, which was painted when he was but nineteen. The face of the Saviour appears small, and wants expression, as the attitude lacks dignity; but the Virgin, fainting from her excess of agony, is perfect. There are other good paintings by various masters, though all inferior to the St. Jeronimo. You will notice also twoalti relieviof the thirteenth century, found in a convent some miles off. They are in pure white marble, the small figures exquisitely carved. The subject of the last and most remarkable is the Birth of Christ. He sitsbelow on his mother’s knee, surrounded by figures in adoration, their heads off, alas! for the French were lodged one night in the convent. Above this group, and supposed to be between earth and heaven, is a cluster of flying angels, who mark the middle region. In heaven sits the Almighty, receiving from a kneeling female the infant she offers; and up to him are riding by a zigzag road, which commences at the bottom of the composition, the happy souls of the elect, on horseback, and in the costume of the thirteenth century!
We rode on, the short stage to Borgo, where the hostess and one-eyed waiter came running to meet us, wondering at the prompt return, which we so little expected when we passed. They tell us the Po has done awful damage, having swept away during the night the crazy bridge of boats, over which, as I told you, we rode doubtfully, sweeping from the meadows it rushed over, cottages, men, and cattle, of whom it is unknown how many perished. The bodies of a young soldier and old priest were picked up not far from the city; and floating on the surface of the wild water was discovered, the morning after the disaster, one of the wooden cradles of the country, and, being taken up by a boatman, there was found within an infant of a month old, asleep. Where might be its parents—or what was itsname—there was none to tell; it was conjectured that it belonged to one of those wretched dwellings, or rather inhabited recesses serving for such, which we noticed when we passed the bridge, and that the same torrent which burst its father’s door, and stifled its mother’s cry, floated it forth in its tiny ark unharmed. They tell me the rain has fallen ever since we quitted Borgo, and it falls now with a violence which I trust may cease ere morning.
24th.
Left Borgo early. The rain had become mist, and the mist cleared by degrees, and we have sun and flies, though the air is not stifling as heretofore. The passport receiver at the gate remembered our riding through before, and asked many questions as to our movements, in a fit of curiosity which I gratified; and he wished me good-bye, saying, “A rivederla, signora, fra qualche anno.” Again at St. Marco.
25th.
Started late from Piacenza, taking our host’s word for the stage’s being a short one. We crossed, at no great distance from the city, Maria Louisa’s splendid bridge of twenty-two arches over the Trebbia, which at this moment is a narrow stream in the midst of a widestony desert. The receiver of the twenty-four centesimi said we had but thirty miles to ride, but this is little consolation in a country where to teach the meaning of distance seems impossible; each person we met giving a different account thereof, and after the first hour increasing instead of diminishing the number.
At a most dirty country inn we stopped to feed the horses. No oats were to be had, and we paid for bran as if it had been some scarce known rarity. We gave the hostler the sum demanded, desiring him to pay his master the fair price, and take the remainder forbuona mano;an order to which he grinned assent, and I had the satisfaction to see the dispute commenced as we rode away. A large building at which we arrived soon after, was the Sardiniandouane,and the frontier passed, the country grows interesting, and is backed by wooded hills, an improvement on Maria Louisa’s treeless plains; but the roads and broken pavement of the wretched villages through which we passed are a disgrace to his majesty. The latter, with their mud cabins, and casements not glazed but papered, and their inhabitants squalid and half clothed, reminded us of their prototypes in Ireland. Though the morning had been cold and foggy, the sunshine, which succeeded, was painfullyburning, as in August. We had lingered on the way, believing the distance inconsiderable, but the sun set in a heavy bank of clouds, predicting bad weather for to-morrow, and the twilight yielded to darkness, so total, and unrelieved even by a star, that D—— dismounted and led his horse before Fanny, as the road was bad beyond description, and we were glad to keep to the path by its side. I do not like riding in the dark in Italy. The character of the country is, in the first place, hardly so good as to render it desirable, and its waggoners all travel without light, and straggling from one side to the other of roads which have a ditch on each. With all our precautions we had nearly made unpleasant blunders, for not far from our destination, a new portion of road, lately made to improve the approach to the town, but not yet completed, is closed by a high bank of loose stones on which we had almost ridden. Saved from this mistake, we failed to see the Po till arrived on the very edge of the high bank which hangs over its water; and the horses, rather than our eyesight, guided us to the long, narrow and crooked bridge which crosses it, and on which we fortunately met neither cart nor traveller. This passed, Fanny quickened her step, for we saw the lights ofVogherathrough the trees, and soon arrived at its entrance, but rode the wholelength of the nasty town to arrive at the Moro. The horses found a quiet stable after their forty mile journey, for the mile of Piedmont reckons as two of Italy. We ourselves were weary, and glad to see our dinner served in the enormous hall, which, but for the frescoes daubed on its walls, resembled a barn in dirt and desolation, and to lie down in the sleeping chamber which was, they said, the only one remaining unoccupied, and in which the iron bedsteads, a deal table, and wicker chair, were the sole articles of furniture.
26th.
Pouring rain all this day—one of the longest I have passed, for we staid at the Moro to rest the horses.
27th.
Left early. The morning cold as December, but the sun, when it appeared at last, burning once more. To the left and behind us, the broad plains were bounded by the distant Appennines; and away on the right, beyond nearer and picturesque hills, we could distinguish a snow mountain once more. A peasant said it wasMont Cenis; it was at least one of the range, and we were glad to see it on our horizon.
The road skirtsTortona, having passed ahalf dried river, a shrunken stream creeping along the centre of its wide winter bed. A high crag commands the town, having on its summit the ruins of the fortress constructed byAmedéethe Third, and which the French blew up in 1796—the eminence, like the plain it stands on, bare of wood, and devoid of beauty. An idler, as we rode by, told us we might, without much increasing the distance, traverse the “città,” and seemed surprised that we should choose to avoid its broken pavement and bad air. Arrived on the plain of St.Giuliano,the village ofMarengowas on our right, interesting from its situation as well as its history, for, excepting the two or three houses built by the road side, the habitations straggle back over the rich meadows where they stand picturesquely grouped with green trees and a grey tower, between and above which rises a wooded hill, with a white church shining on it. To the left stretched the plain; before us were a few fine sycomores and a bridge, traversing a brighter and narrower river which winds between fringed shores. From one of these houses is hung for sign a cannon-ball, reminding us of Desaix, the gallant young general who returned hither from Egypt to die, having first, with his four thousand infantry, altered the fate of the battle almost lost by Lannes and Victor, and afterhis fall destined to become desperate once more, and be wondrously won by Kellerman’s charge with five hundred horse; for this handful of men was during an entire hour master of the field of battle, the infantry of both armies being scattered and flying, and the French not rallied till the expiration of that time. Alessandria is close toMarengo, its trees and fortifications looking to advantage as they rise from the perfect flat of the plain. Went to the Albergo d’Italia, a really good inn, with a most civil master.
28th October.
Up by candlelight to start with dawn, which shines not till seven: for, though the mornings have become painfully cold, the mid-day sun is scarcely bearable. Leaving the hotel and asking the way of several people, who all said “Straight on,” we proceeded straight, as desired, and issued from the town on a high road, which we found in the dreadful state of all which traverse Piedmont; but having proceeded some way, we thought proper (the direction being wholly different from that we have lately followed) to ask whither it led, and were answered “Savona;” so turned back, the equanimity of our tempers disturbed. Perhaps from this cause I thought more brutal than he was in reality, a driver of calves, who was before me with his charge onthe side of the road which I had chosen as least heavy for Fanny, the mud in the centre being three feet thick, and who desired me to proceed thither and get out of his way, swearing in no gentle guise. Approving of the order neither in matter nor manner, we passed by, scattering his herd, and left him uttering still direr oaths, and floundering about in the deep pools to collect the stragglers. Travelling back over bad pavement and through the town, we had lost an hour ere we arrived at the fine citadel, round which the road winds, crossing an ancient covered bridge, through whose open arches the wind blew almost strongly enough to lift me from my saddle. A company of convicts, chained together, were busy sweeping; they looked hardened and wretched. An hour after we met a fresh detachment, tied with cords in carts, and strongly guarded. We had a cold fog for comrade, and the Tanaro has overflowed the country, saddening its whole face, ruining crops and meadows. Near Asti it improves, as it swells in hillocks and sinks in dells: the former covered by the vine which produces the famed Asti wine, but not trained, as in Lombardy, over tall trees; and wearing a wintry aspect ere winter has come, from the custom of plucking its leaves to feed the cattle. Met Capt. K—— with his family; thepretty white Arab led behind the carriage. They crossed the mountain a few days since in beautiful weather, and this good news hurried us onward. The people of theAlbergo Realehad treated them ill; yet outside it makes fairer show than the Leon d’Oro, whither, at their recommendation, we went. Here, as at Alessandria, the doors and windows of our apartments open on the cold gallery which runs round the inner court: bad dinner and bad attendance, and an unpleasant landlord. This morning, when we wished to leave early, the stableman had lost Grizzle’s bridle, and two hours were wasted in its search, the fairest of the day: for, when we had ridden down the avenue just outside the town, the drizzling mist changed to torrents, which continued to fall without cessation till we arrived. We were to stop at the Angelo, but had forgotten the name of the bourg he protected, twelve Piedmontese miles (about four-and-twenty English) from Asti; and the questions we made remained almost always unanswered, the Piedmontese dialect solely being spoken by the peasantry. At last, in the pouring rain, up came a waggoner, and told us Poirino and the Angelo were about three miles farther. We would willingly have hastened our horses, but it was impossible: for the roads are either two feet deep in mud or newly repaired with bedsof loose stones, into which they sank to the fetlock. Here and there the path by their side was in better order, and we adopted it; and D—— justly observed, that but for his Sardinian majesty’s footpaths, horse-travelling in his dominions would be impossible. When it seemed the three weary miles must have been long passed over, and still nothing was to be seen in the most desolate plain, save the broad wet road stretching before, and behind us, a few trees and a spire, we again accosted a peasant and inquired for Poirino. “It is a good bit farther,” said the man, “and the inn is not in the town, which you must traverse, and turn first to the right and next to the left, and then ride straight on, as it stands in the country.” I presume this intelligence, which at the time made us despair, was given in a mischievous spirit, though the weather and our plight should have excited compassion: for we shortly arrived at Poirino, and inquiring for the Angelo, some replying “Straight on,” and some not at all, we made our way through the filthy town to the filthier yard. Our poor horses under cover, D——, who followed them into the warm stable, was better off than I. I made my way to the kitchen door, which I found full of vetturini, this being their dinner hour, and the place where they dine. Received with more curiosity than civility, Icalled to mine hostess, who was busy cooking, and desired she would conduct me to a room. Without turning her head, she begged me to walk up stairs, which I did, and found myself in the before-mentioned open gallery, and, from the voices which proceeded from the various chambers, knew they were all occupied. Having stood there some minutes, dripping and shivering, looking down into the yard at the rain plashing on the stones and the half-dozen vetturini carriages, of whose departure there seemed to be no chance, my gift of patience was not so strong as to lead to further contemplation, and I descended once more, not this time to the door, but to the kitchen fire, where I disturbed the lady’s culinary pursuits, by telling her I was going to the inn I had noticed next to hers, as I found my presence was an inconvenience. This appeal softened her heart: for she put down her fryingpan and took up a key and marched before me to open what was, in reality, her only room unoccupied. It had a broken window and no fireplace; but she brought me a half coldchauffrette,and begged I would be patient, as I should bebenissimowhen the carriages went on, which they would do in a quarter of an hour; so that on my side I called up the patience required, changed my wet clothes, and sat (not the quarter) but a wholehour in such shivering misery as makes one expect an inflammation of the chest next morning. The vetturini were then in motion, and I made my way to a fireplace just as D—— appeared from the stables where he had seen our poor companions provided for.
After all we were served less ill than I expected, and the dinner and beds were good. Our hostess demanded prices which lacked justice and modesty; but, remonstrance made, grew reasonable. All night the rain poured, but they told us it had done so for a month, so that to wait might serve us nothing—the road little better than hitherto, and the country uninteresting till nearMoncaglieri, to which place rain accompanied us less heavily than yesterday, but without pause.
The high hill on which it is built formed a commanding object long before we reached it; the route sweeps round its foot between it and the broad Po, whose shores are here wooded and beautiful. A person of whom we asked the way to Turin sent us throughMoncaglieriup the paved hill and across the town, doubling the fatigue to our horses. We were recompensed by passing before the old castle whereVictor Amedée, the abdicated king, was arrested, and where he died; and also by the fine view we obtained as we rode down the avenue and steep hill on the other side of thevalley and the river. Heavy clouds hid the Alps, and the snow, lying on the hills close to us, looked an ominous presage of what was to succeed on the mountain.
Notwithstanding the unfavourable atmosphere through which we saw it, I prefer Turin as a town to any I have seen in Italy. Its situation is finer than the vaunted one of Florence, with a broader river and more beautiful valley, and hills more wooded surrounding it. One of these the Superga crowns, built in consequence of the vow made byVictor Amedéethe Second (when the troops of Louis the Fourteenth besieged his capital) to consecrate a temple to Our Lady, should her aid enable him to force their troops to raise the siege. It was whispered that the duchess of Burgundy, whose influence was all-powerful at the French court, had used it for her father’s protection, and to lengthen the operations of the French General,Duc de la Feuillade.Prince Eugene having had time to come up, and Turin being relieved on the day of the nativity of the Virgin, the king accomplished his vow. The principalbasso relievoof the high altar represents the deliverance of Turin by the intercession of the Virgin; it was observed of this Madonna that she bare a strange resemblance to the duchess of Burgundy. A fine bridge led us across the river to the Piazzadel Pò. The arcaded streets are broad, and the houses handsome, but mostly unfinished, to that degree that the holes made in their walls, for the placing of scaffoldings, remain unfilled.
We went to the hotel Fœder, kept, like all good inns in Italy, by French masters. Its cleanliness and comfort were to us, for some time unused to them, a very luxury.
Though it continued to rain, as I had purchases to make and a letter to put in the post for Paris, I changed my dress and we went out for the purpose, crossing in our wanderings the Piazza, on whose centre stands the old palace, built byAmedéethe Eighth in 1416, flanked by its four massive towers, but in my opinion injured by the addition of an ornamented façade of 1720. Its interior was decorated, and its splendid staircase built, by command of Christina, daughter of France and duchess of Savoy. Before her time it was said of this palace that it was a house without a staircase, as now that it is a staircase without a house, the former being far too grand for the apartments to which it leads.
The stables for our horses are less delightful than the inn for ourselves, being dark, ill-kept, and crowded. D—— bribed away a horse of kicking reputation, whose vice Fanny the more excited by running at him open-mouthed, there seeming to be in her smallbody no room for fear. In his visits to see them fed he nearly stumbled over a poor fellow who lay in one of the stalls. His wife now and then brought him drink; he was very ill of fever his fellow hostlers said unconcernedly, and to lie with clothes on and with damp litter for bed seemed a strange remedy.
Next me at thetable d’hôtesat an old man with long white hair, who I found on inquiry to be the Conte F——. We entered into conversation: he was just arrived fromChambéry, and had crossedMont Cenisin snow and mist, and exclaimed when I told my intention of doing so on horseback to-morrow. The kind old gentleman offered me his carriage, and when I pertinaciously refused, implored me to accept additional cloaks; and was affectionate and anxious as if he had been my father.
We certainly start in the morning: for that snows, having once fallen, will diminish this season, there is little chance. The journey to Susa would be too long a one, and we are told we may be decently lodged at Sant’Ambrogio.
Though it be a long story, yet from the interest it casts on Turin, I will, for your sake, insert here that of the abdication ofVictor Amedéethe Second; the same king who erected the Superga, and lies buried within its walls. About a month previous to hisrenunciation of his crown, he espoused secretly the widow of the count of St. Sebastian, the object of his early love, then fifty years of age. Victor declared to his son his intention of abdicating; and as he had proposed to himself for model the Emperor Charles the Fifth, he chose that a like ceremonial should be observed, and his court and ministers were summoned to the castle of Rivoli, which lies on the road to Susa and near Turin: of the cause which assembled them none were informed except the prince of Piedmont and the Marquis del Borgo. In the presence of all, the latter read the act of abdication, the king preserving throughout the proud and solemn demeanour which was natural to him. He led, when it was ended, the countess of St. Sebastian to the princess, become queen. “My daughter,” he said, “I present to you a lady who is about to sacrifice herself for me; I pray you show respect to her and her family.”
Reserving to himself no more than a nobleman’s fortune, with the countess, now marchioness of Spino, he retired toChambéry. For a time indeed, but of brief duration, the new monarch asked his father’s counsel in all affairs of moment, and sent his ministers to seek it across the mountains; but he grew weary of divided power, as didVictor Amedéeof the idleness he had chosen, and the marchioness ofSpino urged him to resume the reins he had dropped unadvisedly. He arrived at Rivoli suddenly; but Charles Emmanuel, who had been absent also, informed of his movements, at the same time re-entered the capital, and the old king heard with extreme annoyance the cannon which pealed to welcome him. The two monarchs had an interview, embarrassed on both sides. The father spoke of the air of Savoy as injurious to his health, and the son commanded that the castle ofMoncaglierishould be prepared for his reception, whither (also by his command) the court went, apparently to do him homage; but in reality to watch and report his actions. It was noticed that the manners of the marchioness had altered; that when she visited the queen she occupied an arm-chair, similar to hers; and at last, the moment for action come,Victor Amedéedemanded of the Marquis del Borgo the act of his abdication, desiring him to make known his intention of wearing again the crown he had laid aside. The minister hesitated to reply; the old king insisted on his obedience within twelve hours, and this, fearing to excite Victor’s fury, he promised and departed. The king remained in agitation of mind, half repenting his confidence in del Borgo; till, when the clocks had tolled midnight, taking a sudden resolution, he mounted his horse andfollowed but by one servant, sought the citadel and summoned the governor to open the gates to him. He was refused, and returned in disappointment toMoncaglieri. Meanwhile the council assembled on the information of the minister, and the arrest of the father was signed by the son, whose hand, it is said, shook so violently, that the secretary of state was obliged to support it. The marquis of Ormea, preceded by a company of grenadiers, arrived atMoncaglieri, whose walls other troops had already surrounded, conducted thither without knowing whither they were going or wherefore. The king slept profoundly in the chamber with the marchioness, and the noise made as they ascended the grand staircase, seizing on the person of an attendant, who lay in the ante-chamber, and bursting open the doors, did not wake him. The marchioness, startled from her slumbers, sprang from her bed and towards a private door, hoping to escape. She was arrested and placed in a carriage, which, escorted by fifty dragoons, took at a gallop the road to the fortress of Ceva in Piedmont. Not even her cries, as she was forced away, could wake the king, who was of apoplectic habit, and whose sleep was like a lethargy. One seized his sword which lay on the table, and theComte de la Perouse,drawing his curtains back, at last roused him, and showed the orderof which he was “bearer from the king.” “What mean you bythe king?” exclaimed Victor; “dare you to recognise another than me, who am your sovereign and your master?”
“You were so, sire,” repliedLa Perouse,“till yourself commanded that our obedience should be transferred to King Charles; we, therefore, pray you to give us the example of obedience now.”
The old man, furious, refused to rise, and gave a blow to the chevalier of Salace, who approached too near his bed. He was lifted perforce from it, and, partly dressed and enveloped in blankets, carried rather than led to the carriage, which waited in the court. As he crossed the ante-chamber he seemed surprised to see there his grenadiers; and the men and their officers, astonished in turn, murmured, “It is the king; why should he be a prisoner? what has our old master done?”
The Count ofLa Perouse,fearing mutiny, exclaimed, “In the king’s name and on pain of death, silence!” and hurried the old monarch on.
In the court-yard stood ranged a regiment of dragoons, which had distinguished itself under his own eye, and which he had always favoured. Their presence affected him, and he stepped forward to speak; but a sign was made to the drummers, who covered his voice,and those who stood round forced him to enter the carriage. On leavingMoncaglierihe had made three demands—for his wife, his papers, and his snuff-box; but only the last was granted. The day after his arrival at Rivoli, iron bars and double frames were placed to the windows of his apartments.
“What are you doing?” he asked the glazier.
“I am putting up double window-frames,” said the man, “lest you should be cold this winter.”
“Why, how now, fellow,” said the king, “do you think I shall be here this winter?”
“Ay, indeed,” rejoined the glazier; “this one and many more.”
After this he was, however, transferred to the castle of La Venerie, three leagues from Turin. The fits of fury to which he had at first yielded, and in which it was feared he might commit suicide, had gradually subsided into sadness. He was, at his own demand, reconducted toMoncaglieri, whither the marchioness was allowed to come. He was permitted to have books; but neither newspapers nor anything which might satisfy his curiosity as to events passing in the world. He never saw his son more. He died in 1732, and his widow sought a retreat for life in a convent at Carignano.
31st October.
We were up at light this morning, for the weather had a more favourable aspect; crossed the Piazza with its old palace, and issued from the town on the noble avenue which makes so fine an approach to Turin. From the plain it crosses, the view of the Alps, covered with snow, appearing and disappearing through masses of clouds, was beautiful beyond most prospects. For some time favoured with sunshine and blue sky, we might have reached San Ambrogio free of rain, but that Grizzle broke a fore-shoe, and we were obliged to get another put on at theTre Réat Rivoli, looking on in almost as much fear as when Fanny dropped one at Montecarelli, on her way to Florence. The palace which receivedVictor Amedéeis on the height commanding the town. Grizzle being shod, we thought it better to feed both, and thus lost time; for we were not long suffered to enjoy the country, which grows very beautiful after Rivoli, as rain and hail, which we had hoped were left behind, came down in full fury on horse and rider. The Dora, whose course we followed, had overflowed its banks, and desolation was here also.
The valley has the character of that ofDomo d’Ossola, but it is more confined, and has less grandeur. The rain ceased as we drewnear St. Ambrogio, and the vapours were floating up the high cliff which hangs over it, and on whose very pinnacle stands a ruined church, or castle, or both, a high slight tower, which formed a most striking object as the mist floated upwards, hiding and revealing it by turns. As we approached theTre Corone,its broken windows and yard choked with manure looked so hopelessly wretched, that, being wet through, we preferred riding on in the expectation of getting dry, as the weather favoured us once more. Crossing a bridge, the straight road follows the other bank of the river now on the left, and through a defile of surpassing beauty. On a hill of its own, of which it seems to be the monarch, rising from the flat before the mountains, and beside the river, stands a remarkable ruin. We had passed many proud remains of baronial castles, but this the noblest, with its turreted walls and hollow watch-towers standing and defying. The rain returned more violently than ever, almost hiding Susa, which is beautifully situated, and I fain would have seen in sunshine, and have paid a visit to its antiquities. Woe unto its waterspouts; they advanced over our heads from either side of the narrow street, irregular in their lengths, so that to strive to avoid their contents was vain; and drowned like mountain torrentswashing what little the rain had spared. We crossed the bridge over the wild river, and found the Posta on the Place. I can say little in praise of its comfort; there remained but three rooms vacant, certainly, but I suspect those already occupied were no better than our own. The window shut badly, and the door, on the open corridor, not at all, admitting the rush of the wind and the roar of the torrent; so that the fire scorched our faces, while the back of our heads grew rheumatic. The waiter was determined to do his best, for he piled the logs till they set the chimney on fire. He was gone when I discovered it, and looked for a bell, but as none was there, and I was little inclined to receive another shower by issuing forth on the open gallery in search of him, I watched it till it burned itself out, which it did very safely before D—— had come up from our travellers.
Nov. 1st.
Up at light. A sweet mild morning, and no rain, and our horses fresh as after a ride in theBois de Boulogne;and we decided on going the whole way to Lanslebourg, abandoning our first intention of sleeping on the mountain, as the inn is ill provided, and to get straw impossible.
The Roman arch raised in honour of Tiberiusis still to be seen in the governor’s garden, built of white marble, and the Corinthian order, and rising among broken remnants of columns and capitals, which probably belonged to edifices by which it was once surrounded. In the days of Charlemagne, the famous Roland, from whom the first Marquises of Susa boast their descent, defended the town, signalizing himself by most marvellous exploits; in proof whereof there was shown some years ago a rock, which a stroke of his sword cleft in twain!
The early part of our journey was delightful, for the day was balmy though not bright, and the mist shrouded the snows of the summits before us without approaching ourselves; and the vine, cultivated at the foot of the mountain, stretched up its sides to the roots of the chestnut trees, on whose green leaves there rested but just so much snow as bowed their branches slightly and gracefully. As the road wound upwards we looked back to the Piedmontese valleys, bounded by the mountains, with their dark blue base and white coronets; and this beauty increased as we ascended higher and could distinguish the hill with its ruins, and the high crag far away above St. Ambrogio. So far the thaw had been rapid, for no snow lay in the road here, nor till we had passed the little inn ofMont Cenis. AtMolaret, where the church bells were tinkling sweetly in the quiet air, the route, turning suddenly, no longer hangs over Piedmont, but looks on a home view, which has its charm likewise, and the village built in the glen directly below, among the trees of the rich meadow. The first refuge is a little further, and by the time we had arrived there the half-melted snow began to ball in our horses’ feet so as to impede our progress; and D—— having several times dismounted to pick them, with the loss of a quarter of an hour at each operation, we ascertained that in this manner we should not arrive ere dark, and began to think haste might be necessary, as the mists, which had hitherto held aloof, seemed thickening gradually. To prevent an accumulation of snow, our only resource was to trot our horses, and the mountain being henceforth steep, it was an unkind antidote; but Fanny shook her head, and breasted the hill gallantly, and the grey followed wheresoever she led.
We had pursued this plan about half an hour, when the snow suddenly fell, and its friend the fog so closed round us that we could see nothing but the road, and I feared that would be invisible ere long, as I strained my eyes to discover the precipices which might be there, and the track which the last travellers had left, and which the flakes effacedas they fell. From this spot the aspect ofMont Cenisis unknown to me, almost as if I had not traversed it; only as we crossed the Plain of St. Nicholas, over which, but for the hooftrack of a horse which immediately preceded us we should have failed to find the way, appeared for a moment the palisades of the ascending route, seeming built on the cloud, and a waterfall which sprang forth from the mist to be swallowed in it again a few yards lower. From the cliffs which skirt the road (here rising abruptly from the level) hung icicles from fifty to a hundred feet long, which the mist just opened to show. I almost thought we might be left on the mountain as a reinforcement, for I certainly never before knew the entire meaning of the word cold.
We went on, however, patiently, and rapidly as we could with mercy to the poor horses, who seemed anxious to advance as ourselves. The wind had risen, and the broad flakes of snow in this higher region changed to small particles of ice which drifted in our faces cold and cutting. We passed the barrier of Piedmont, whereon was written that a toll was to be paid there; but we, having called and nobody answered, went on till we reached theGrande Croix,before whose humble inn stood several waggons, and one waggoner who lifted his hands in amazement, and said, “Povera,poverina,” with an accent of pity not at that moment misplaced, for the ice adhered to our hats and cloaks, making them look like an old wall from which hangs half detached plaster; even D——’s weather whisker was an iceberg, as were the horses’ manes and tails. Grizzle had rubbed hers last night, and the icicled hairs stuck forth ludicrously like “quills from the fretful porcupine.”
To stop to complain would certainly have been to be frozen to death, and we rode fast over the plain ofMont Cenis, stopping to breathe our comrades before each refuge, as places where we could find aid, should aid become necessary. The lake was invisible through the mist, and we could distinguish only the mountain rivulet which for some way accompanied us, flowing along like a black line through the dull white of the snow. As we approached the Hospice, opposite which is Napoleon’s fortification, the dark lake became visible through the sleet, but only like a heavier cloud lying on the edge of the plain and recognized by its more defined outline. Half the Hospice is occupied by monks, whose voices reached us through the roar of the wind, singing psalms, the other half by thercarabinieri,one of whom opened the door just sufficiently to take the passport, while a second peeped at us through a closed andbarred window. I thought, considering their situation and ours, they kept it a merciless time, during which we walked our horses backwards and forwards, receiving the blast on all sides. From this level, the road ascends again, its highest point, being I believe at the refuge No. 20. Thecantonnier,who was at work there spade in hand, desired us to be careful and proceed at a foot’s pace, as we had a bad portion of road before us; and we found he was right, our horses floundering about in deep snow a moment after. Met here a carriage (the first); the postilion expressed his astonishment by an oath loud and deep. The snow-drift passed, the ground became worse still, for it changed to smooth ice, the wind, which every moment increased, sweeping the loose snow from its surface. Grizzle, who could not keep her footing, slipped and groaned, which meant, “Get off and lead me!” a prayer which D—— granted, but Fanny fortunately did not make to me, as, having felt the pain produced by cold, the numbness now stiffened me to my saddle, and had I been lifted from it, I should certainly have found walking impossible. At No. 17 is the Savoy barrier, which having passed we were called back. The good-natured Savoyard detained us as short a time as possible, called me “pauvre femme!” not thinking wewere travelling for pleasure; and having written down as Heaven pleased the English names we told him, bade us speed on our way, which we did slowly and painfully.
The wind increased and threatenedtourmente. Thecantonnierhad said that, notwithstanding the quantity of snow lately fallen, there was too little to occasion a dread of avalanches which sometimes fall between the refuges Nos. 23 and 24. A man walking down the mountain four days since was frozen to death at this spot; and at the sharp turns of the zigzags, the blasts sweeping down the gorge and crossing the road were so strong, that Grizzle swayed to them, and Fanny planted her fore-feet firmly and put down her head to resist.
Though we forbore to say so, we neither were quite tranquil, as these gusts of wind roared down the hollow, threatening to carry us over the road side on the snow-drifts below, certainly deep enough to swallow far larger masses than ourselves and our quadrupeds.
At last came a happy change from snow to rain and from ice to mud, and we saw Lanslebourg among fir-trees beneath, with its pretty bridge flung over the Arc, and the inn on the opposite side, built by Napoleon for his staff. It was three o’clock when we arrived,and we had left Susa at eight, and Fanny, not waiting for orders, trotted into the stable-yard. With some trouble from the numbness which paralyzed me, I arrived in the kitchen, where the landlady, intent on household affairs and also on scolding a child, having given me a seat, and desired her servant to make me a fire above, departed to her labours, and this was a signal for persecution, for the spirit of curiosity was stronger than the spirit of obedience, and she touched my hat, and felt my habit, and walked round me, asking questions till I was weary, and told her that if she would first light a fire and allow me to change my wet clothes, I would be at her service the rest of the day.
It required a great deal of smoke to drive me from the hearth, but when she had kindled the wood and departed, the wind which rushed down the chimney drove the very fire into the centre of the floor; and my eyes so streamed from the columns which filled the room, that I had some difficulty in finding the way out to summon her back. She only remarked, that it was always the case with that chimney when it rained; and we proceeded to another chamber on the opposite side of the corridor, the Abigail with her flaming pine-logs first. When installed therein, I foundthe air abominable: she said, “it was always so when it blew,” so that I have passed the afternoon burning vinegar.
The snow, hail and wind have as yet known no intermission; the bad air arrives under the door and the icy wind in at the window. On account of the horses, whom eight posts like those we have travelled to-day must necessarily have fatigued, we shall remain to-morrow. Were the weather fair the situation of the inn would be lovely; but when the torrents of rain dash as now against windows which will not close, and the wind waves the thin muslin to and fro, and the cold of these lantern-like rooms resists even such fires as I have made, the inn at Lanslebourg is the very perfection of wretchedness.