First Impressions on a Tour upon the Continent

I was romantic enough to mourn over the fate of the mountain stream here, which (in common with many others we had seen) was so weakened by long drought, that it had scarcely force sufficient to pour its scanty waters over their rugged channel, and seemed to vent its complaint in weak murmurs, as it flowed feebly along. The grand cascade, which feeds its urn so nobly during winter, had now lost all strength and magnificence of character. We felt the air very sharp, even in this sultry season; and in the bleak months of the year I can easily conceive that the severity of the cold must be intolerable. The grapes in such regions are always small and sour; they were not half ripe at the present time, and, indeed, never arrive at any perfection.

We breakfasted at La Poste at Chamberry, a picturesque town, and capital of Savoy, situated in the bosom of the fine scenery I have just described. The tops of its surrounding mountains (which form part of the endless chain of Alps) are hoary with eternal snows: they had a very striking effect. It was at Chamberry that that strange, inconsistent, wonderful creature, Rousseau, lived for some time with Madame de Varennes: his house is still shewn. The charm which, while he lived, he contrived to throw around the vices and frailties of his character, and the productions of his bewitching pen, is now broken, the spell is dissolved; but there are, nevertheless, immortal excellencies in many parts of his writings which must make their due and deep impression upon the hearts and imaginations of every successive reader, till time itself shall be no more.

To return to Chamberry. There is no peculiarity of costume here, except that the paysannes all wear gold hearts and crosses; the poorer classes of silver, lead, or mixed metal. We changed horses at Montmeillant, and saw the fine river Isere, formed by the melting of the snows. The same sort of grand scenery continued. There were several charming campagnes (or gentlemen's houses) amid the mountains, half concealed by luxuriant woods. We longed to be invited (and able to accept such invitation) to spend a fortnight at one or other of them, in tranquillity and ease, in the society of agreeable, sensible people, who would sometimes allow us leisure to indulge in the luxury of solitude, and our own thoughts; for, without this latter privilege, one might just as well be in a fashionable drawing-room, in all the sophistication of Paris or London. It is among these scenes that Marmontel has chosen to place his heroine in the graceful little tale of the "Shepherdess of the Alps." But, alas! the poorer inhabitants of these fairy regions! how unworthy of such lovely Arcadian retreats! Almost all we met were squalid, filthy, listless, and indolent: a blighted, blasted, wretched race, hardly deserving the name of human. Most of them were (in addition to their universal hideousness) afflicted with the disgusting disease of goîtres, to say nothing of total idiotcy, which is equally common amongst them. Leaving Marmontel's lovely fanciful creations in the clouds, from whence they came, these, these we found to be the "dull realities of life;" and such realities! – my imagination actually sickened at their idea. I will not hazard farther detail, lest I should equally shock the feelings of my readers.

The mountains, as we approached Aiguebelle, became yet more lofty and stupendous than any we had before seen; but they continued to wear the same features of luxuriant beauty, even in the midst of the sublimity of a grander scale of proportion. From their airy summits we could now and then descry the fall of a narrow perpendicular streamlet, sparkling in the sun like a line of melted silver. We reached Aiguebelle at four o'clock, dined, and slept. The entrance to the inn was like that of a cow-house, or large old rustic stable, and the accommodations within were uncomfortable enough: not worse, however, than many which we afterwards encountered in various places on the continent. An evening walk, which we took here after tea, at the foot of the Alps, I shall never forget; romantic, beautiful, and wild beyond even the dreams of a poetical imagination. Passing through enormous masses of rock, consisting of argillaceous slate, called schist, in the foreground (at the entrance of a shadowy glade), we gradually ascended a winding path, by which we traced an opening through the richly-wooded recesses of one of the nearer mountains. Thick shady bowers of walnut trees (the largest our eyes had ever beheld) formed an agreeable sort of twilight, shedding a flickering gloom around, that well accorded with the pensive tone of our minds, as we stole silently along, wrapt in unfeigned and warm admiration of Nature and her wonderful creations, while a rippling spring, murmuring softly amid the mossy grass, assisted the dreamy sort of reverie that hung like a spell upon us! A fair green meadow lay smiling at our feet; where notwithstanding the burning heat of the season, the cattle were feeding on as rich a pasturage, as that which skirts the Thames at Richmond. Far above (towering over our heads) were the snowy peaks of the highest Alps, half veiled in clouds of floating mist. I sat down upon a mossy stone, my companions stretched on the turf beside me; the silent, deep, and soothing tranquillity was broken only by the chirp of the cricket, the distant bark of a cottage cur, or the whirring flight of the bats who now were beginning their evening pastimes; one of them, in his airy wheel, almost brushed Mr. W.'s face with his wings, as he flew fearlessly past. As the night advanced, we were struck by the beautiful effect of the blazing weeds, which were burning on some of the surrounding heights. At length we unwillingly bade adieu to the enchanting spot, and returned to our inn.

We left Aiguebelle the next morning, rising at four o'clock, and proceeded to St. Jean de Maurienne, through a narrow valley, inclosed by a chain of the same mountains, which rose to the height of about two or three thousand metres. A river, formed of melted snows, ran constantly by our side, now brawling and foaming over the rugged stones, now stealing silently along, in an almost imperceptible current, and often seeming wholly exhausted, forming merely a narrow runnel in the middle of its vast, sandy, rocky channel. Cottages were frequently dotted about here, some of them perched at such an incredible height, and apparently so inaccessible to human foot, that we could hardly conceive them to be the habitations of our fellow creatures! How the inmates continue to procure the necessaries of life from the adjacent hamlets in the valleys below, I cannot imagine, unless they are drawn up and down by ropes, in the manner which is so awfully described, in his "scene on the sands," by that bold painter from nature, the author of "the Antiquary." The singular and beautiful appearance of the opposite rocks told us the moment when the sun had risen to a certain height, but the first burst of glory from that divine orb, it was not our lot to witness, as the east was hid from our sight by the overwhelming mountains that surrounded us. I confess I was disappointed at this circumstance, as the idea of beholding a perfect sun-rise had been the chief inducement to me to quit my warm bed at such a preposterously early hour, and to undergo with cheerfulness the disagreeable ceremony of hurrying on my clothes by candlelight! However, I was in some measure consoled by the lovely effect of the partial gleams, which played occasionally upon the distant objects; finely contrasting with the gloomy shadows of the dark ravines, and lighting up the spots of verdure upon which they brightly fell, they seemed almost kindling into a blaze of unearthly splendour. We passed here a small but romantic fall of water; and soon afterwards encountered (in one of those narrow passes so frequent among the Alps), and upon the brow of an abrupt descent, a waggon, drawn by restive mules. These animals flew about the road in every possible direction, rearing till they stood on end, kicking and plunging in the most astonishing manner. The driver emulated their fury, and I know not which of the parties was in the right, they were all in such a passion together; we expected every instant to see their heels dash against the glass of our windows, but our postillion managed with so much skill and discretion, that we soon found ourselves safely hors de l'embarras. We were somewhat surprised at his admirable coolness and dexterity, as he was no experienced old stager, but on the contrary a mere boy. Solomon, however, justly observes that wisdom does not exclusively reside with white heads, as some veteran worthies have fondly flattered themselves, and this will account for the sagesse of our little driver, which might otherwise have been discredited, perhaps, by those, who constantly associate the ideas of youth and imprudence. I believe that the same author goes so far as to assert, that "wisdom giveth hoary hairs." I am not quite certain as to the accuracy of my quotation, or I should at once feel sure that I had discovered the reason why so many of our beaux and belles evince such a horror of mental attainments. Talking of beaux and belles, we were now quite among their antipodes; for never did I behold such a set of dirty, slovenly, squalid, frightful creatures, as were perpetually crossing our path! – I can only say, that (like Sancho Panza and his goblins) having once seen two or three of them, I shut my eyes for the rest of the journey, although I could not stop my ears against the horrid guttural idiotical croak (resembling that of a choked raven) which they constantly maintained, as they ran begging by the side of the carriage. Mr. B. hoping to get rid of them, often threw out money from the windows, but this only attracted a larger flock, and we soon found our sole refuge was in pulling up the blinds the moment they appeared in sight.

We breakfasted at St. Jean de Maurienne, situated at the base of the higher Alps: it was dirty, as all the inns in Savoy are; and they gave us sour bread and butter, and muddled coffee, rather a mortification to travellers, who (however romantic and enthusiastic) could not help feeling that they should have better relished better fare, after having gone three and twenty miles before breakfast! We met an Italian lady here, just come from Turin; who assured us, upon our expressing our admiration of Savoy, that we should think the scenery of Italy far more beautiful: I could not at the moment believe in the possibility of her assertion, and felt a presentiment that after having seen and compared some of the most striking features in these countries, I should not coincide with her in opinion; Italy (from all I had heard on the subject) possessing a different character of beauty; but difference does not constitute superiority: I should as soon think of comparing an apple and an orange – both are good in their way. If any body takes offence at the lowliness of my simile, I beg leave to refer him or her to that delightful writer (at all times, and upon such various subjects), Marmontel, who avails himself of the very same, and applies it in the still prouder instance of human intellect.

The river Arque rushes impetuously through this part of Savoy; we passed by a voiture overturned upon its stony banks, the wheels in the air, and front nearly touching the brink of the foaming torrent. The accident did not seem to be a very recent one, as no people were assembled about or near it. The Savoyards (those who are happily free from goîtres, &c.) are seldom brought up to any other trade than stone masonry; wandering about, following this metier in an itinerant manner. Many of the rustics appear well acquainted with the scientific terms of mineralogy and chemistry. We conversed with a common cottager in particular, who discoursed most intelligently upon the different substances of which these mountains are composed. We suffered a good deal of inconvenience from the dust, which flew here in such overwhelming eddies, that it completely filled the carriage, and more than once impeded my respiration most painfully. I could feel it gritting between my teeth, and irritating the windpipe; and when we attempted to close the windows against it, the heat thereby increased became equally insupportable; the sun in these regions being so fierce that it absolutely burnt us when we drew up the blinds: still, the peculiar sensation of weight in the atmosphere, from which we experience so much oppression in England, seemed to be unknown in this climate; there was an elasticity in the air, superior to any of which we foggy islanders can boast, and the sky was perfectly Italian, of a deep blue cloudless ether.

At St. Michel, a neat village (comparatively speaking), the peasantry become more human; the goître begins to disappear, and the countenance to assume a more intellectual expression. Again the sublime effect of the river Arque attracted our attention. It is a regular mountain torrent, flashing and raving over tremendous rocks, with a rapidity and fury difficult to describe. If it was thus mighty during the present parching season, what must it not be in winter! The imagination shudders at the idea of its desolating force. I could scarcely trace the affinity of this element with the tame, slow, glassy, silent waters to which I had been accustomed in my own country. It was like the sublime insanity of a superb human genius, when compared with the almost vegetable existence of a mere common plodding mortal.

The little narrow alpine bridges, occasionally thrown across this terrific stream, were highly romantic and beautiful. At this particular spot, dark forests of pine began to succeed to the more pleasing verdure of the tufted beech. They extended to the remotest pinnacles of the mountains, from whose brown sides, lower down, a number of sparkling springs were seen to gush dancing and flashing in the sun. Great quantities of barberry trees, and of the plant coltsfoot, were growing wild here.

Crossing a majestic mountain beyond Modena, we were shewn the Devil's Bridge (Note B.), three hundred feet above the river. We ourselves looked proudly down upon it, from our eagle height, where we enjoyed the benefit of a noble and easy road, made (as usual) by order of Bonaparte; for which all travellers ought to feel deeply indebted to him. Not that I attribute his works of this sort to benevolence rather than ambitious policy: but whatever the cause, we voyageurs have great reason to bless the effect! The postillion seriously assured us, as we gazed upon the above-mentioned bridge, that it was originally built by the arch fiend, although he added, that "this had happened a great while ago." Mr. W. attempted to laugh him out of so ridiculous a belief; but he adhered to his point with immoveable gravity. I had always heard that the natives of mountainous countries were peculiarly liable to the impressions of superstition, and in this instance I had an opportunity of proving personally the truth of the remark. We regretted that time did not allow of our making a few more experimental researches into these matters: it might have been very interesting to have collected a set of legends from the mouths of the simple inhabitants; and I should have had considerable amusement in tracing their similarity to those of the Scotch Highlanders, the German, Swedish, and other fond believers in romance. The king of Sardinia was at that time building fortresses upon this mountain, and two thousand men were employed in the work.

We met some Italian officers at Modena; they were fine men, and had a far more distinguished and gentlemanly tournure than, the French. It is astonishing how vulgar and gross in appearance and manner all the latter were, whom we had yet had an opportunity of remarking. I had ever thought the subalterns and captains in some of our marching and militia regiments bad enough, but they were certainly much superior to the French officers. This reminds me, that in our apartment at the inn at Aiguebelle, we saw scrawled upon the walls a fierce tirade (written by some Frenchman) against that interesting work, "Eustace's Italy." We, of course, were not much surprised at the wrath therein expressed; and I myself think that Eustace bears evident marks of being under the dominion of prejudice, in speaking of the French as a nation.

Crossing another mountain, not far from Lans le Bourg, we were made doubly sensible of the prodigious altitude of our road, by comparing the different proportions of the objects around: for instance, a water-mill at work in the valley below us appeared like a baby-house, and the stream which fell from the wheel not much more important than what might have issued from a large garden watering-pot. The rocks here were all wild, gloomy, and barren.

Arriving at Lans le Bourg, where we slept, we found the inn (Le Grand Hotel des Voyageurs) clean and comfortable, which was a delightful change to us, after the dirt and misery of those we had lately seen. It stood a short distance beyond the little town, on the brink of a roaring torrent. The host and his wife appeared flattered at our observation of their neat establishment, &c., and told us that it was not the first time their house had been complimented as being very like those in England. The next morning we pursued our route through the same magnificent scenes, and here we first saw a giant glacier, clad in his spotless mantle of everlasting purity. At his feet (to give the reader some idea of his stupendous height and magnitude) lay a town; the steeple of its church did not appear taller than the extinguisher of a candle, which it also resembled in shape. Amid these solitary wilds the greatest variety of plants, flowers, &c. are to be found, and violets in profusion during the spring. We ate some strawberries, gathered here by the peasant children, for a large basket of which our host at Lans le Bourg paid a sum in value rather less than three English halfpence. The postillion and Christian gathered me large bunches of very fine wild raspberries, as they walked up the steep ascent. We were now upon Mont Cenis (Note C.), of celebrated fame. My husband collected for me a few specimens of the lovely flowers which bloomed there, and which I have since put by as relics. One plant in particular (wholly unknown to any of us) I must mention. It is a poisonous but exquisitely graceful shrub, with spiral leaves, jagged at the edges, and clusters of brilliant scarlet berries, growing in the form of miniature bunches of grapes. The postillion called it la tourse; but we did not feel quite sure of the accuracy of his botanical knowledge. Near the summit of this mountain we were shewn the spot where adventurous travellers sometimes descend to the town of Lans le Bourg upon a sledge, in the short space of seven minutes; whereas it takes two hours and a half to ascend in a carriage, or on a mule. The precipice looked horrible beyond description; yet the English frequently adopt this mode of conveyance during the winter: it is called la ramasse, and the amusement of sliding in cars at the Beaujon and Les Montagnes Russes, in Paris, was taken from this. As we continued to climb, the effect of the sheep feeding amid the rocky ledges, upon the grassy patches of land far below us, was curious enough. They appeared diminished to the size of those little round, white, fat inhabitants of a nutshell, which sometimes run races upon a china plate, or a polished mahogany table, after dinner. I believe their names are not mentioned in the Newmarket Calender; but my readers will know what I mean. We here beheld a fatigued pedestrian, drawn up the steep path with much comparative ease to himself, by clinging to the long tail of a strong mule, upon which another traveller was riding.

The road over Mont Cenis is most superb: there are small houses at set distances, where dwell a regularly organized body of men, called cantonniers, whose business it is to keep the highway in repair, and to shelter and assist all voyageurs who may stand in need of their services. This was first ordered and arranged by Bonaparte. Upon reaching level ground, near the utmost summit, we were agreeably surprised by the sight of a small lake, of the most heavenly blue (the real ultramarine colour well known to artists), situated in the midst of a little plain of verdant turf: it was quite a scene of peace and repose, all view of the surrounding precipices being shut out. From this quiet haven we descended with rapidity and ease, at the rate of seven or eight miles an hour, with only two horses; while in going up on the other side of the mountain, we found four unequal to drag us along at more than a foot's pace.

We passed by the Hospice, originally built by Charlemagne, and re-established by Bonaparte, who really put us in mind of the Marquis of Carrabas, in the fairy tale of "Puss in Boots;" for if we saw any road better than another, any house particularly well calculated for the relief of travellers, any set of guides whose attendance was unusually convenient and well ordered, or any striking improvement, in short, of whatever nature, and were induced to inquire, "by whom all had been done?" the answer was invariably, "Napoleon! Napoleon! Napoleon!" At this Hospice there is a set of monks, who bear a high reputation for benevolence and attention to travellers. A very lofty and majestic waterfall shortly afterwards greeted our eyes, grandly beautiful, though bearing no character of terror. It was the "roar of waters," not the "hell of waters," so admirably described by Lord Byron, in the fourth canto of his Childe Harold. The road here perpetually returned upon itself, in zigzag windings, resembling the principle of a corkscrew staircase, and was, in the midst of grandeur and sublimity, both easy and safe.

The Alps, on the Piedmontese side of Mont Cenis, and to whose firm bases we were now fast descending, were infinitely more stupendous, more overwhelming in their proportions, and displayed stronger features of actual sublimity, perhaps, than those we had seen in Savoy; but we all thought them less rich in sylvan beauty, and far less enchantingly romantic in their general character. Our wonder was not, as formerly, mingled with delight; on the contrary, a shuddering sensation of horror took possession of our minds, as we involuntarily turned our eyes upon the various dark gulfs, and tremendous abysses, which yawned on every side. It was impossible not to feel, at every turn, that there were but a few inches between us and destruction. At length we reached the foot of the celebrated Rocca Melone, or Roche Melon, which is allowed to be the highest of the chain, and is nine thousand feet from the base to the summit. We could now perceive a visible alteration in the costumes of the peasantry; the men came forth in coloured silk or cotton caps, with a long net bag hanging down behind, ending in a tassel: the women, in flat straw hats, lined with pink sarsenet, and jackets laced in front; exactly resembling those Italian groups of figures which I had formerly seen in the drawings of Mr. W – m L – k. I recognised them instantly as my old acquaintance, and felt myself in some measure en pays de connoissance. Our postillion had the true features of the Venetian Punchinello, and I almost expected to hear him squeak.

We dined at Susa (inn la Posta), and found it cleanly and comfortable; the people excessively attentive and civil: in short, we looked upon it as a most auspicious entrance into Italy. From Susa to San Giorgio our driver was a regular Italian wag, and I suspected he had got a little too much of the juice of the grape in his head, by the way in which he tore along the road, to the amazement of every quiet passenger. At last we called to him, to inquire the reason of his violent proceedings. "I thought I was doing just what you liked best," was his answer; and it was with difficulty we could persuade him that we were not among the number of those English travellers who take delight in risking their own necks, and the lives of their horses, merely for the sake of "astonishing the natives!" This was the first and only instance of intoxication which we had witnessed upon the continent.

The dress of the women near San Giorgio is picturesque; a short blue petticoat, with several narrow, coloured tucks at the bottom, a high laced cap (something in the style of the French cauchoises), and bright necklaces, formed of boxwood beads, turned in an oval shape, and highly gilt, so as to resemble massy gold. The men all wore cocked hats. The verdure of the fields and trees here (the latter chiefly beech, olive, and lime) was delightful, owing partly to the late rains, which the people told us had fallen to the great refreshment of the long-parched earth; the whole air was embalmed with the fragrance of the limes: we had a strong sun, but at the same time, so reviving a breeze, so soft, pure, and elastic, that I never remember to have enjoyed any thing more, nor ever felt a greater degree of physical animation. This sweetly-breathing wind might (by poets) have been supposed the same which blew through the groves of Elysium. We now passed by a fine ruin of a castle, built upon a rocky eminence, and overhanging a brawling river. The peasantry in general were well looking, but we still observed several goîtres among them. Nothing struck us at this time with higher astonishment than the convent of Benedictines, an enormous, massive, dark pile of building, reared upon the topmost height of one of the grandest mountains here, and frowning over the valley below. I in particular remember this with the strongest impression of wonder and admiration; it perfectly seized upon my imagination, and involuntarily brought Mrs. Radcliffe's, and other tales of romance, to the recollection of us all.

At St. Antonine, (I sometimes avail myself of the French names of these places, as both French and Italian are equally used in this country), we first saw two paysannes with their hair twisted up à l'antique, and in long transparent veils of black gauze, which admirably suited their handsome dark eyes and eyebrows; this costume is sometimes worn over the high cap, but it then loses half its graceful effect. It struck me that if women in general were aware of the peculiar advantage and charm of a long floating veil, which thus shades, without concealing, the features, there would be but one style of head-dress in the world. In addition to these bewitching veils, the country girls at this place (St. Antonine) generally carry fans; we met several with them, made of bright pink paper, covered with gold spangles, and it appeared to us rather an incongruous implement in the hands of a village belle. Mass was performing as we passed, at a church of true Grecian architecture; upon the outside steps of which the people were kneeling with every symptom of devotion. In going through a low valley beyond this town, narrow and extremely confined by the tall hedge-rows, where the circulation of air is in consequence impeded, we felt the heat almost intolerable; and the atmosphere exactly of that heavy nature from which we have often suffered during the summers of our own country. I must tell the truth (as it is fit all respectable travellers should do), and therefore am compelled to confess, that in passing over the continent, I was perpetually and forcibly struck with the defects of our English climate when compared with others. Condemn me not, ye red-hot John Bulls! remember that when the noble animal you resemble makes his fiercest attacks, he always shuts his eyes, in common with every prejudiced person.

At Rivoli, they were celebrating the fête of St. Bartholomew; many pretty women and fine spirited-looking men were among the groups of gay figures assembled there. The caps of the former were very remarkable, being composed of lace in the form of a high Roman casque or helmet; and worn over another of pink silk. The church was ornamented with flowers and green wreaths; guns were firing, and a military procession going by as we passed: some of the girls wore pea-green jackets and red petticoats, some blue petticoats and white shift sleeves, and all had a bouquet of natural flowers in their bosoms.

From Rivoli, we emerged into the fertile and widely extended plains of Piedmont; the distant hills, richly tufted with woods, were studded thick with white villas (or vignes as they are called here), and we now entirely lost sight of those hideous goîtres, which had hitherto every now and then made their appearance, even in the midst of a generally handsome peasantry.

The approach to Turin was highly beautiful, through a long avenue of the finest trees; the town itself embosomed among gently rising hills, and adorned by the river Po, glassy and smooth as a mirror, and so transparent, that the banks and sky were reflected upon its breast, unbroken by a single wave or ripple. The buildings are very high, many of them extremely handsome, with white or coloured striped awnings to every window, as a shelter from the noon-day sun. Our hotel (Albergo del Universo) stood in the middle of La Place du Chateau, immediately fronting the royal palace. The streets are clean, which indeed they ought to be, since through almost all of them a stream of the purest crystal water is perpetually flowing, contributing not a little, I should think, to the health and comfort of the inhabitants. We found apartments allotted to us in the Albergo of great height and size, with cove ceilings, and en suite; furnished with a curious mixture of poverty and magnificence, and ornamented by some exquisite and well chosen prints, from the designs of Poussin and other old masters; rather in better style, it must be allowed, than those of most English inns, where you find "Going out to hunt," "In at the death," "Matrimony and courtship," and such things, hanging over every chimney piece. But we found one annoyance here that almost disgusted me with Italy, in spite of her miracles of nature and art, and brought back the remembrance of English neatness and purity in a very forcible manner: I allude to the circumstance of the vermin, which infest even some of their most expensive establishments, and quite destroy the sensation of comfort. There are other sins also in their household arrangements, which this nation share in common with the French: suffice it to say, that both one and the other are certainly the dirtiest race of beings I ever encountered. I did not much like the smell of garlic, on entering our hotel, where the host, waiters, and assistants, all puffed their vile rocambole breath⁵ in our face, as they bustled about, preparing for our accommodation. Neither could I relish their method of cookery, and, after the first trial, begged to have our future dinners drest à la Française. I know not what my friend Mr. T. would say to this, who I have heard vaunt his Piedmontese garlic truffles as one of the greatest delicacies of the table. To do the people of this hotel justice, I ought, however, to acknowledge that they seemed most anxious to please, and appeared delighted when they succeeded. Nor did they attempt to impose upon us in their charges, although they formed exceptions, in this instance, to some other Italian innkeepers, by whom we were considerably annoyed and disgusted; the system of cheating and over-rating on their parts, and of shameless begging from the lower classes, being in general carried to an astonishing excess; I must say, that we found the French far preferable in these respects. The royal residence here is a very magnificent and classical building, and La place de St. Charles is also very fine. The shops are universally built beneath the refreshing shade of piazzas, which is a very necessary circumstance, for the heat of the sun at noon would otherwise overpower their inhabitants. No business seems to be done at that time, at the public-offices, banking-houses, &c. Indeed the Italians say, il n'y a que les chiens et les Anglois qui sortent à ces heures. We proceeded to view the principal lions the next day, and, amongst others, the cathedral, which is a regular Grecian temple. The king's seat in a gallery above the high altar, very splendidly adorned, but we agreed in thinking that this style of architecture (although beautiful in itself), was far less appropriate to a place of religious worship than the gothic. In this opinion (which I remember to have expressed before, in the beginning of my tour), I am not sure however, that we are not a little tinged with the ideas of gloomy solemnity (as connected with religion) peculiar to most of the northern nations; and I own (at all events) that I am guilty of an inconsistency in taste, because I have ever been a warm admirer of the bright, soft, and smiling type under which a different mythology has represented death. The poetical butterfly, bursting from its chrysalis, and soaring on triumphant wings to heaven, strikes me as infinitely more rational than the horrible (and low) taste which we have shown in selecting the skeleton as the most proper symbol of the same great and glorious mystery! a sort of rawhead and bloodybone plan, unworthy of so enlightened a people as ourselves, and which seems to answer no one purpose of religion or morality, if impartially considered; but on the contrary to be well calculated to poison the innocent minds of youth with aggravated and unnecessary terrors, and to divert their attention from the nobler truths of immortality!