Part 6
Fontana has made numberless experiments upon the poison of a viper. It is a glutinous mass in which he has never discovered the noxious ingredient; taken into the stomach, it is not prejudicial, it only acts upon the nerves. He has published in several quarto volumes his opinions on the subject. He entered into a long philosophical dissertation on the vital principle. He has worms or eels in which life is suspended, but he can bring them to existence. They came in diseased corn from the Morea. He has drawn conclusions from his experiments which prove too much for the Church to allow him to publish. He is an apostle in the cause of atheism and democracy, hence it is not likely he will make the world happier or wiser.
[Sidenote: AFFAIRS IN FRANCE]
In the evening I went to Lady Hervey’s instead of the Opera. D’Armfeldt was, as usual, the hero of the conversation and of his own story. He begs compassion so much that one is tempted to withhold it. The Regent, by this post, has withdrawn 1800_l._ of his appointments; but why does he expect favours of a man whom he accuses of an intention to poison the young King? He told several stories that prove him _dans les bons principes_ for a soldier; he thinks every _bullet has its billet_. He told of a young man skulking from fear behind an ammunition waggon, yet killed by a random shot. He made great use of this to encourage his men not to flinch.
News of a bloody battle near Quesnoy: 6000 French killed 4,000 Austrians.[65] How dreadful! This conflict will not close until Europe is deluged with blood and society destroyed. The trial of Orleans, or, as he ridiculously styles himself, Egalité, is about: the chief accusation against him is his having voted for the King’s death. Bad as that was, yet he did _poignard à la gorge_. Lyons is in revolt against the Convention. The poor Royalists have been defeated in Brittany.
_27th June._--This fatal day seven years gave me, in the bloom and innocence of fifteen, to the power of a being who has made me execrate my life since it has belonged to him. Despair often prompts me to a remedy within my reach. ‘To enjoy is to obey,’ to be wretched is to disobey; if Providence interposes not for my relief, may I not seek it? Nature is assisted to relieve us in our diseases--why not to terminate those of the mind? My mind is worked up to a state of savage exaltation, and impels me to act with fury that proceeds more from passion and deep despair than I can in calmer moments justify. Oftentimes in the gloom of midnight I feel a desire to curtail my grief, and but for an unaccountable shudder that creeps over me, ere this the deed of rashness would be executed. I shall leave nothing behind that I can regret. My children are yet too young to attach me to existence, and Heaven knows I have no close, no tender ties besides. Oh, pardon the audacity of the thought!
_28th June._--In the evening, Ly. Spencer, Duchess, and Ly. Bessborough arrived. They came the Perugia road: rather discomposed at finding T. P. gone, but it certainly was wise in him to decline the embarrassment of a tedious, troublesome journey with them. I went to the Opera; it was the last night of the Pergola.[66]
_29th._--Drew dined with _me_. He seems half discontented with his new friends. Supped with Ly. B. Three hundred cannon are playing upon Valenciennes. St. Leger is with the D. of York, and besieging it with the allied army. Marat has declared to the Convention that Gaston is advancing to Paris; there are three Royal armies, and more than half France has declared itself in a state of counter-revolution. But these are but flying reports.
_30th June, Sunday._--Dined at Ld. Hervey’s: he appeared much agitated, probably at the prospect of his removal from this place, as it will be impossible for Ministers to allow him to remain after his behaviour to the Grand Duke. In those letters which he wrote remonstrating against the exportation of grain from Tuscany to France he calls the Grand Duke a fool and Manfredini a knave. I went to the Opera with Lady B. and supped with her. She is much improved in her walking; but what cures may not be received from this delicious climate! She is to pass the summer at Lucca Baths.
[Sidenote: D’ARMFELDT]
_1st July._--Lady Shelley has promised to take care of my children; her husband, Dr. Stuart, is a very good physician. Ly. Ann[67] is still invisible, at least to men. She is a frolicsome Irish widow bewitched, very pretty, very foolish, and very debauched. The French fleet is in force at Toulon: where is Ld. Hood? The Jacobin Club here is in full exultation at the bad news from the allies.
Armfeldt told us that Anckarström, as he was conducting him to execution, implored his pardon, saying he should die contented if he could obtain that, as he was the person most injured, for in his sovereign he lost a friend and a benefactor. The King refused to hear the name of his murderer. Armfeldt had the command of an army in a campaign against the Russians, in which service the King accompanied him and shared the hardships of the common soldiers. There was a victory obtained by the Swedes _upon the ice_. Dangers of every sort surrounded them; the sun was very ardent and the ice was cracking beneath the surface. The Swedes had a great advantage, their horses being shod; the Russians had not taken the same precaution. Armfeldt said that the King’s aide-de-camps, unless they died of the plague or indigestion, need not fear death; they hid themselves in the moment of peril. The King would never settle a plan for retreat, as he would not allow it possible that he could be defeated. Such courage as this is often ruinous to the country whose monarch is brave. Portugal smarted from Sebastian’s[68] impetuosity; in vain his old generals remonstrated, he listened to his ardour. On his landing at Ceuta, the musicians, instead of striking up a cheerful air to encourage the soldiers, played a solemn dirge: in superstitious times what a _contretemps_! Besides this melancholy portent, he stumbled on a corpse as he got out of his ship.
A fine ball in the evening at Lord Hervey’s: Mme. d’Albany introduced me to Alfieri. I took a final leave of d’Armfeldt. I was sorry to bid a farewell to my friends, but a very few months will bring us together, I hope. La Flotte, the French Minister, was not invited to the ball: this is a very marked insult at a neutral Court.
_July 2nd, Tuesday._--I parted from my children this morning at eleven. I have left them comfortable, established in a good house with proper attendants, and Dr. Stuart and an Italian physician, Gianetti, to take care of them. The day was delicious, ardent sun, deep blue sky, everybody was gasping from the heat; I alone as cold as marble, but inwardly warmed by the glowing sun.
[Sidenote: CROSSING THE APENNINES]
Prato is the first post, a pretty little town; put me in mind of La Bonneville in Savoy. It is situated at the foot of a range of calcareous hills forming the sides of a crater of considerable extent. We continued in this plain till we reached Pistoja. The heat being too intense to remain in the carriage, we stopped two hours at Pistoja. Two miles from Pistoja we began ascending the high chain of Apennines, which runs across Italy and divides it from Cisalpine Gaul, or Lombardy. About half-way up the hill to the first post we stopped to look back upon the valley. Florence, Pistoja, Prato, the Umbrino meandering in the plain until it reaches the sea at Leghorn, made a lovely _coup d’œil_. The project was to travel all night, but my face pained me so much that by an extraordinary degree of complaisance I was allowed to stop at St. Marcello, a delightful little inn.
_Wednesday, July 3rd._--I was enchanted with the prettiness of the environs of the inn: just opposite my window there is a steep verdant bank shaded by tall cypress. The hills above are studded with chestnut, ilex, beech, the wild cherry, and vast assemblage of pretty trees. Passed through a neat town, to which our inn was a suburb. Kept ascending for miles. A magnificent torrent roaring at our feet and the sharp pinnacles of the Apennines springing above our heads. The industry of the inhabitants is manifested by their cultivating every little spot that is accessible to the foot of man, and success warrants their enterprise, as the production is abundant, and the walls prop up the little field.
These mountains must have afforded a secure asylum to those numerous predatory bands which infested this delightful country in former days; the bold robber might bid defiance to the vigilance of the _Holy Brother_. Indeed, the wretched state of society about the Middle Ages must have rendered travelling a service of danger, from the perpetual wars between each petty State, the burdensome jurisdiction of the barons, and the outrages committed by outlaws.
We dined at the post-house within 300 yards of the top of the mountain which we had been crawling up all day. The summit is the boundary of Tuscany and the frontier of the Modenese State. We began descending this side of the mountains; much more beautiful than the other, springs of very clear, cool water afford a delicious draught to the exhausted, weary traveller. Torrents and cascades tumbling from the heights between thick groves of pines down the sides of the mountains till they reach the torrent in the valley, which is _there_ called the Scoltenna, but soon after changes its name and becomes the Panaro. Snow is still lying in the crevices of the mountain; the rays of the setting sun produce a pretty effect upon the white masses intermingled with woods and sharp rocks. The _chaussée_ in these States as fine as any in Europe; indeed, except those in the Austrian dominions, I believe no roads can be compared to those of Italy. The peasants work in their agricultural toils armed--a sad memento of the terrors of those times when such things were necessary. How dreadful that the most useful members of the community were exposed, whilst labouring for the benefit of mankind, to outrages that demanded self-defence!
At Barigazzo, a small volcano like Pietra Mala. A flame issues from the ground and burns without having anything to feed on, till extinguished either by a high wind or by water; it is used to burn lime. Muscovite is found in large quantities in this mountain. To the S.-E. of the village, upon the top of the mountain, a large lake, called Lago Santo, because blessed by the Bishop of Lucca; it has most miraculous properties. The night was heavenly: the splendour of the stars above and the millions spangled upon the surface of the earth formed by the Luccioli, produced a glittering scene that dazzled the eye; to add to the brilliancy, a black cloud, distant in the horizon, emitted flashes of bright lightning. The vivacity of the light almost too much. Such must have been the splendour surrounding the God of Thunder when he showed himself _dans tous ses atours_ to the astonished eyes of the curious Semele. We travelled all night and reached Modena at 5 o’clock in the morning.
[Sidenote: THE PLAINS OF LOMBARDY]
_Thursday, 4th July._--I already feel the difference between the heat of Lombardy and the refreshing breezes of Florence. I am just going to see the Guercinos at the Palace. _L’homme propose, Dieu dispose_, the _custode_ was eating, drinking, or sleeping; I could not gain admittance. Arrived at Parma about 6 o’clock. Slept there. I saw Parma last October. The ‘St. Jerome,’ the ‘Madonna della Scodella,’ the ceiling of a dome in a church, are some of the finest of _Correggio_.
Marat has resumed his functions in the Convention. We crossed a dozen ferries in the night, and reached Placentia soon after daybreak.
_5th July._--Saw the Ducal Palace, the equestrian statue, Cathedral, and St. Augustin. Alberoni was a native of this city. Crossed the Po at the gates of the town. Very near meeting with an ugly accident in getting out of the boat; the banks were steep, the mud very deep, the carriage rolled considerably back into the water. Our cook we were obliged to pass as a Swiss, Frenchmen being refused admittance into the Milanese. Rice plantations and deep sands to Lodi. Arrived at Milan at 12 o’clock. The Palmerstons, Sir Benjamin Thompson,[69] and Sir C. Blagden here.
_Saturday, 6th._--The heat unbearable; close suffocating feel, like a hot day in England. Miss Carter and Sir Benjamin dined with me. After dinner, instead of the custom of the country to take the siesta, I took a long-winded discourse from Sir Benjamin upon politics, happiness, morality, etc. He thinks Dumouriez was bribed by the Austrians throughout his career. Saw my old acquaintance Csse. Maxe. Her present _cavaliere servente_ is her husband’s brother, and her husband is the _bon ami_ of his elder brother’s wife, the Marchesina di Litta. One must learn not to stare at these connections in Italy; they are not uncommon.
_7th July, Sunday._--Left Milan at 10 o’clock. We intend, if the Grand St. Bernard is free of snow _and French_, to cross it, and get by that route into Switzerland. Crossed the Ticino at Buffalora; it was very low compared to the floods of last year. Found letters pressing us to stop at Château de Masin in the valley of D’Aost on our way to the mountain. We shall there find the Trevors, T. P., and Swinburne. We slept at Vercelli, for though it was not late when we arrived, yet it was too far to Masin to attempt to reach it by their supper hour.
_8th._--Set off at 4 o’clock in the morning, changed horses at Germano, and those horses conveyed us hither. This antique structure is a baronial castle upon the summit of a high, isolated rock, overlooking a rich plain in which the Dora Baltea meanders fantastically. To the north is the entrance into the valley D’Aost, backed by the Alps, among which is St. Bernard. To the east the Plain of Lombardy, with a distant view of Milan. Villages, towns, lakes, rivers, hills, and all the beauties of nature and art may be discovered from the lofty towers of this venerable abode. This castle has undergone many sieges from the French; before the introduction of gunpowder it was impregnable, and even since its use it has held out. In 1554 Maréchal de Biron received just under my bedchamber window the wound which made him a cripple for life. The old walls in many places are loaded with the cannon balls which have been poured by volleys into them. The room we dine in is vaulted and bomb proof; the ceiling and cornices are decorated by the arms of Masin quartered with those of the greatest families. I saw those of Austria in several escutcheons.
[Sidenote: CHÂTEAU DE MASIN]
The Count Masin is a well-bred man of a certain age, hospitable, and doing with dignity the honours of his house, where plenty and luxury are united. He is proud of his high descent and alliances. He showed me amongst the armorial bearings a stirrup with the motto ‘Ferme toi.’ An ancestor of his in battle lost all his weapons, desperate he took his stirrups and assaulted his antagonist, and his sovereign Lord in honour of the achievement allowed him to take the quartering as an emblem of his courage.
In the evening we drove about the alleys; high, clipped hedges on each side defended us from the evening breeze, which in this high spot is more than a _breeze_ generally, but was this evening insufferably hot, more from a stagnation in the air than from the positive degree of heat. The doubts increase about the passage of the St. Bernard; at all events we intend going to Aost. In the evening the letters from Turin arrived. I had a letter from Ld. Henry,[70] and he writes out of spirits; complains of solitude. He dislikes his appointment to Stockholm. A courier saw Mayence in flames on the 27th June; if it has fallen it will facilitate our journey up the Rhine.
We retired early to our rooms. My apartment was curious and magnificent. It consisted of a bedroom, a dressing-room, a receiving-room, besides accommodation near for my _valet-de-chambre_ and my maid. The bedroom is a bastion, which makes inside a delightful circular room; a balcony goes round it, and from the spot where I was this minute, from it down to the fosse, is upwards of 100 feet. A private door opens upon a spiral staircase, which carries one to the _porte-de-secours_. I dismissed my maid, and sat me down to write, read, and think. The wind rose and made a most furious noise in my chimney, and in the vaulted rooms beneath. I could not help thinking that if an ancestor of Masin’s were to appear and tell me some horrid tale of his unburied bones rotting in a dungeon in the towers of the castle, a more hideous noise and crash would not usher him in than what I have heard. In the midst of this reflection I perceived upon the large glass on the left of me, and which stands opposite to the doors of a long suite of apartments, all open, a glimmering light, and I heard at the same moment a noise from the rooms. I am no coward with respect to supernatural appearances, but I was out of spirits, and the solitude of my situation apart from the rest of the family contributed at that moment to give me a qualm. I looked at the glass, and perceived the light stronger and some white drapery flowing behind it. _Pour le coup_ I trembled and hid my face. A minute brought Swinburne with a night taper, in his dressing gown, to my sight. I laughed at my fears. He came from Mrs. Trevor, who was ill, to get some camphor julep from me. I locked my door and was courageous enough to go to bed without rousing anybody.
_Tuesday, 9th._--We were to have gone this morning, but our journey is deferred. Passed the day pleasantly enough. Trevor went to Turin to meet General Grenville. Mrs. Trevor crosses the mountain. We shall, if it is possible for any of us to go across.
[Sidenote: VAL D’AOST]
How much I detest the prospect of a residence in England, even though it be but for a few weeks; country, climate, manners, everything is odious to me. _Il faudra se résoudre à souffrir._ Patience, _pazienza_. Left the hospitable castle early in the morning. We descended the steep hill, upon which rises majestically the castle, into the plain towards Ivrea, an ancient fortified town distant only five miles from Masin. The walls are now repairing, and the whole is getting into a state of defence with the utmost expedition. The King of Sardinia is now making a progress through this part of his dominions. _This_ costs him 25,000_l._ in useless pomp, and he receives a subsidy from England of 200,000_l._ To the right a castle, very picturesque in its situation, called Mont’alto; the hill upon which it stands is composed of calcareous earth from whence the lime used in the country is drawn.
We entered the Val d’Aost at a narrow pass at the Pont St. Martin, an old bridge across the Dora. The weather was delicious, the change of the climate very perceptible already. We dined at Donnaz, a small village placed in an excavation of the rock, supposed by some to be a work of the Romans. Our whole party met at dinner. Trevor defers his return to Turin until he has seen us all well over the mountain, as his interposition may be necessary to get us mules. Fort le Bard, about half a mile from Donnaz, a strong mountain pass, assisted by art. Nature has given it a rapid river and mountains; Vauban, ramparts and cannon. The mode of training the vines is singular. They are trailed upon a _treillage_ horizontally placed upon stone pillars; they are from 4 to 5 feet and even higher from the ground. It is admirably adapted for catching the warmth of the sun. The valley is at the widest half a mile, but it is generally narrower. The oxen are very fine, and the manner of yoking them is very picturesque. We went on six miles beyond where their party slept to Chatillon, where M. Regis gave us very good accommodation in his house, and his company. He is a friend of Masin, or rather a dependant. On the road I got out at Monjovet, celebrated for fine steatites and garnets imbedded in quartz; I obtained a few specimens.
The Piedmontese army are upon the Petit St. Bernard; the French are at the foot of it by the Isère. Each army has not more than 3000 men. The troops are very sickly, the hardships they have encountered are incredible; the barracks are absolutely upon the top of the mountain, a post which is not much benefited by the climate of August. Numbers are in the hospital at Aost, and we are alarmed by hearing of an epidemical disorder being among them.
_Thursday._--Though the Trevors were six miles behind me, they were diligent enough to pass me before even I was out of my bed. The road from Chatillon lies by the Dora. The Dora Baltea is a rapid torrent, which runs into the Po near Turin. The Isère rises on the French side of the mountain, and finds its way into the Rhône. The Dora comes raving with great impetuosity and swiftness--a just emblem of time, that rushes forward and never is retarded. It gave me the vapours to think of the many misspent hours I have irretrievably lost. Half my time is spent in making resolutions to amend, but the precious moments escape when to begin, for as some ancient poet says, ‘He that leaves for to-morrow that may be done to-day is like the countryman waiting upon the banks of the river to cross when the waters have run by and left it dry.’ About five miles before we reached Aost we caught a magnificent view of Mont Blanc; the whiteness of it was dazzling.
[Sidenote: MT. ST. BERNARD]
Aost or the _Cité_, as it is called here, is an ugly town. We are lodged at the Baron d’Aviso’s. I have this instant heard that the distemper is contagious, and that the master of this house is dying of the epidemical fever. The intelligence is not pleasant, but I rejoice at my children being out of the way. I am kept up from the melancholy that surrounds me; the bell never ceases its doleful knell of death, the muffled drums announce under my window a funeral, and the stir in the room below where I sleep is a proof that the poor invalid is still alive, though probably in anguish. We are advised against going out of the house, a precaution that probably is very necessary. Mrs. Trevor fears we may be obliged to pass another day here.