Solitary Walks through Many Lands

Front matter

SOLITARY WALKS THROUGH MANY LANDS. BV DERWENT CONWAY: AUTHOR OP "TALES OF ARDENNES," &C. &C. VOL. I. LONDON : HURST, CHANCE, AND CO. ST. PAUL'S CHURCH-YARD 1828. LONDON : PRINTED BY SAMUEL MANNING AND CO. LONDON-HOUSE YARD, ST. PAULV DEDICATION. — ♦ — TO Go, when the day fadeth And eve draweth nigh ; Go, when the pale moon wadelh Up, up the deep sky. Go, when the calm sea dreameth, With the stars in her cradled breast; Go, when the bright heaven seemeth Watching a lulled world's rest. Go, when the uight-wind playeth With the weeds on the dewy grave ; Go, when the tired moon layeth Her pillowed head on the wave. Go, when silence giveth The deepest of thoughts that be ; And oh ! may the thought that liveth The last, be a thought of me ! CONTENTS. HUNGARY. PAGE A Week among the Carpathian Mountains . . 1 The Legend of the Carbuncle Valley . . 15 Continuation of the Author's Wanderings . . 20 Life and Adventures of a Jewel-hunter . . 27 ENGLAND.

A September Walk ..... 4ft The Story of the Unhappy Pair, and the Conscience-stricken Father ...... 75 THE COASTS OF THE MEDITERRANEAN. Marseilles ...... 99 The Shoies of the Mediterranean — The Fishermen of the Mediterranean . . . . VI CONTENTS. PACE A Coasting Voyage — The Isle of St. Honorat . . 117 Continuation of the Coasting Voyage . . 135 The Grave of the Wedded Pair . . . .139 ITALY. Affected Enthusiasm . . . ■ • 147 Ferrara and its Neighbourhood . • .153 A Night of imminent Peril .... 157 FRANCE. France ought to be visited in the Month of May . . 169 Rouen and la basse Route . . . .173 La basse Route . . . . . 177 Executions in the Place de Greves — The Guillotine 181 NORWAY. Reasons why Norway is seldom visited by Travellers 189 A Digression upon Voyaging . . . 193 A Mistake of Landsmen — A common but striking Incident, &c. . . . . . . . 195 A Forest Walk ..... 199 The Story of the Unthankful Stranger . . .211 Charles the XII. and Frederickshall — A Digression upon Military Glory . . . ...

HUNGARY HUNGARY. A WEEK AMONG THE CARPATHIAN MOUNTAINS. I left Rokus, a small village at the foot of the Carpathian Alps, on the 1st of August, 1825, to take a ramble among those mountains, the least explored of any of the great chains which traverse Europe. I was much importuned by the simple villagers of Rokus, to take a guide; and many stories were related to me, of chamois hunters, who had been caught in the mists, and who either died of cold and hunger, or had fallen down precipices ; of gold hunters, who had entered caverns in search of treasures, but who had never found their way out again ; and of some rash VOL. I. B HUNGARY. persons, who had ventured into the recesses which are inhabited by vultures, and who had been torn to pieces ; hints were even given, of certain supernatural intelligences, that watch over the bustard ; and that, therefore, it would be prudent to avoid injuring that bird, if it should come in my way.

Chapter I

It has sometimes been my good fortune, in the course of my solitary walks, to become acquainted with curious and affecting stories. I have already more than once, made the reader a partaker in the pleasure which these have afforded me ; and in the present chapter, I mean to record the par ticulars of a story which I accidentally picked up in a walk through Monmouthshire, as well as the manner in which I became acquainted with it. It is a story that affected me deeply, and which, independently of its real and individual interest, will read an important lesson to whoever VOL. I, E ENGLAND. among our legislators may chance to see these pages. There is no province in the King of England's dominions, more beautiful than Monmouth ; and there are few parts of Europe, in which my soli tary walks have led me among sweeter scenes.

It is a good deal the fashion, to extol foreign scenery ; and I believe it is too much the custom, to visit those scenes abroad which have obtained a celebrated name, before visiting the equally attractive spots in our own country. I remember to have heard a pleasant story of a Scotch laird, who shortly after arriving at majority, set out for the Continent, and having ascended a certain mountain in the south of Italy, famous for the magnificent prospect which is enjoyed from the summit, struck with its beauty, inquired of the guide who accompanied him, if there was any thing in Europe equal to what he now beheld. " I have heard," replied the guide, " that this prospect is excelled by only one;" "and where is that one?" eagerly demanded the traveller; "in the kingdom of Scotland," said the guide.

" Indeed," said the view-hunter, " in what part of Scotland ;" " from the top of' a hill named Damyet," answered the guide. " Good God," said the traveller, " it is on my own estate ! and I have never been there." For the truth of this ENGLAND. story I will not vouch ; but it is at all events, a good illustration of a prevailing folly. It is a fact, that will be disputed by no one who has had any opportunity of exercising his judgment, that foreign scenery is, generally speaking, far inferior to that of England : it is true, that there are spots, and even limited dis tricts in many of the countries abroad, where there is a concentration of higher beauties than are to be found in any equal space in England : the climate alone, of more southern latitudes, mellowing the appearances of the external world, and creating a harmony among the several ele ments, is sufficient to turn the scale ; but I will venture to affirm that in England alone, of all the European countries, is it possible to travel two hundred miles in almost a direct line, through scenes of rich and varied beauty.

The county of Monmouth contains within itself every ingredient of natural beauty, and every species of adventitious ornament and in terest ; swelling hills, rugged precipices, ancient woods, rivers, streams, and torrents — princely domains, romantic towns, crumbling and ivyed ruins. I have at various times walked through the lovely scenery of this county, and always with delight ; but I cannot quite coincide in the common opinion, which identifies the beauty of e -S 52 ENGLAND. Monmouthshire, with the river Wye; for the river Wye is not a river to my taste ; its serpen tining course lies, indeed, through a country superlatively beautiful ; but the river itself has little to recommend it for the greater part of that course. To be beautiful, a river must be pure, it must have a sensible flow, and must either fill its channel, or show, where it leaves the channel bare, a clean pebbly bottom.

But a river affected by the tide in any considerable degree, cannot possess these characters of beauty : it cannot be pure, because even at low water, the stream is tainted by the slime which is deposited by the tide ; whenever it is brimful, it has no current except a retrograding one ; and during at least three-parts of the twenty-four hours, it does not sweep green banks and drooping shrubs, as a river must do to be beautiful ; but is a dwarfish rill, occuping a deep channel, with filthy muddy banks, rising on each side. The Wye is, there fore no favourite of mine. At the time that I became possessed of the particulars of the story to be related in this chap ter, my head-quarters were at Chepstow, from which town I made daily excursions into the neighbourhood ; including of course, Tintern Abbey, and Ragland Castle.

It is with a ramble to the latter of these places, that the theme of this chapter has reference. Mv walks through ENGLAND. Monmouthshire, were confined within the month of September ; and there is certainly no other month in the year, so well suited for pedestrian rambles : to me, it is indeed, the most attractive of all the months : it has neither the sultriness of July and August, nor the chill of October. The morning, the noon, the evening of a fine Septem ber day, have each of them, their separate charms : and whether your walk be through the fields, or in the orchard, or the garden, beauty and prodi gality are around you. Here, you have the gol den waving corn ; there, the gathered harvest; and on all sides, the woods and the copses still in their leafy beauty, and just touched with the first streak of autumn's pencil.

If your walk be early, vou see the skylark circling in the sunny beams of the morning ; mounting up and up ; and chanting all the while, his merry roundelay ; and you see the gossamer curtaining every hedge, and the dew-drop clinging to every blade. If you go out at noon, the white, the speckled, and the saffron-winged butterflies flit by, and the dragon fly glances gold and silver in the noon-beam : bees are hanging on every clover-head, and feast ing on the yet lingering sweets of the honey suckle. There is then, usually a light air abroad, gently ruffling the corn fields, which rise and fall, like the soft heavings of a peaceful bosom. ENGLAND. But it is in the evening, when the charm of Sep tember is felt the deepest. Go out before sunset ; watch the day die upon the hill-tops ; go into the wood, and pause: perhaps the parting note of the woodlark breaks upon the stillness, or perhaps, there is nothing to disturb the silence save the tinkling of little brooks, that cannot be heard by day.

And now, the landscape grows dim ; and the moon, the harvest-moon, dipping among the white curdled clouds, comes forth. Gentle beauty ! solitary traveller ! wanderer through the fields of Heaven ! no wonder poets hymn thee, and lovers gaze upon thee. But September is not a month for poetiy and contemplation only : it abounds in palpable things : the garden and the orchard bend under the clustering fruit; the woods are full of filberts, and the trailing shrubs are heavy with wild berries. In short, September is the month when we not only discover nature to be beautiful, but her Author to be bountiful. It was on the morning* of a September-day, that I left a little inn, in the neighbourhood of Rag land Castle, to return to Chepstow. I had slept there the night before, having occupied the afternoon of that day in visiting the ruin.

The ruins of a castellated building, or feudal fortress, are less beautiful as an object of mere contem- ENGLAND. 55 plation, than the remains of an abbey or monas tery; partly, because the architecture of the latter is in itself more beautiful, and partly, because monks and friars have been wonderfully felicitous in their choice of a spot for their resi dence : a fine stream and extensive woods, are especial favourites with them ; whether because the former was found convenient for their ab lutions, and the latter for holy meditation ; or, because fish and game, from stream and forest, were required for lent — I shall not determine ; it is true, however, with almost no exception, that the ruins of religious houses are situated in spots where nature is prodigal of beauty. But, sepa rating the aspect of the ruin, from whatever else is attached to it, I have always felt greater pleasure in walking through the grass-grown hall of a feudal castle, than in surveying the cloisters of a mouldering abbey.

What does the latter awaken in the mind, but images of superstition and hypocrisy, and sloth and sensuality ! Nothing that was noble ; little that was intellectual, abode within its walls. The only scenes acted there, were scenes in which either bigotry and ignorance, or cunning and knavery, were the actors. But, with the ruins of a feudal castle our associations are less ignoble, and more spirit-stirring; much cruelty — much tyranny — much injustice were ENGLAND. indeed licensed there ; but there are redeeming recollections : we have courage and generosity, in place of cunning and knavery ; activity in the room of sloth : if sensuality was found in the castle, as well as in the monastery, it was at least unaccompanied by hypocrisy ; and if ignorance was common to both, that ignorance is surely the most tolerable, which does not pretend to superior wisdom.

I said, it was on a September morning, that I left a little inn near to Ragland Castle, with the intention of returning the same evening, to Chep stow. After walking leisurely duringseveral hours, I sat down upon a little eminence, attracted by the appearance of a splendid mansion, only a part of which was visible from the level of the road. From the spot I had chosen, I had a perfect view of the house, and the surrounding domain. These sufficiently showed that their owner was a man of great wealth, — and the arms of the family, sculptured in marble over the gate, which was not more than a hundred yards from where I was seated, indicated that it was noble. Behind, and on either side, the house was in closed by venerable woods, that stretched up a gentle acclivity, the summit of which was crowned by a temple.

On one side of the mansion, lofty walls inclosed extensive gardens, and the sun- ENGLAND. beams glittered upon a long range of those fra gile buildings, which luxury has invented, to outwit nature. The park in front, and which stretched far to the right and left, was studded with clumps of overshadowing trees, and herds of deer were lying, or browzing beneath them ; a fine rapid stream traversed the lawn, over which a handsome bridge conducted the broad avenue : at the front of the mansion, I could perceive that a magnificent equipage was waiting. As I gazed upon all this, I felt a slight shade of envy clouding the serenity of my mind: " Happy possessor," said I, "of all I survey !" It was not, that I knew so little of the world and of truth, as to suppose wealth and happiness to be synonimous ; but we are sometimes cheated out of our settled belief; and the illusions of wealth and grandeur, are apt at times to over power the convictions of reason and experience ; and from a natural cause : we suppose that we ourselves are in possession of what we see, and that in the enjoyment of it, we still retain our present feelings, thoughts and inclinations ; we do not reflect, that the world within, and the world with out, act reciprocally upon each other ; we do not consider at the moment, that the passions are not immutable ; that desires vary with the chang ing probabilities of their fulfilment ; and that ENGLAND. the happiness of a lifetime may be influenced by one unsatisfied longing.

It is impossible to colour water without in some degree changing its properties. "Happy possessor," said I, "of all I survey!" The sequel will show, how much of truth there was in this expression of momentary envy. While I still continued sitting, the equipage drove from the door, and proceeded rapidly towards the'gate. Without feeling any particular curiosity as to who might be within it, I rose, and continued my walk. As the carriage approached, I perceived it to be in unison with every thing else belonging to its owner : its mountings were brilliant and costly; the arms of the house were emblazoned upon its sides, and embossed in silver upon other parts of the furni ture ; four beautiful black horses, richly capari soned, whirled it along, and two outriders, in splendid livery, followed it.

I reached the gate at the same time with the carriage, which stopped for a moment, while the porter opened it, and in the same instant, the window was lowered, and the person within, delivered some order to the postilions. I involuntarily paused for a moment to look at the individual whom I took to be the owner of all that I had coveted ; and as the window was again drawn up, and the carriage ENGLAND, 59 rolled on, I said, " can this be he whom I called the happy owner of all I surveyed ! " It has often been said, that every man is a physiognomist ; it is certain that every one fancies himself such. For my own part I have stu died the subject but little, but I do not believe that in its details, it is possible to judge accu rately ; because, as character, and even intellect to a certain degree, give a peculiar expression to certain features, and as I cannot perceive the possibility of laying down any rule to guide us in our judgments of a thing so undefinable as expression is, it seems to me, that physiognomy will never make many advances beyond the dis coveries and hypotheses of its first great master.

But there is one department in which I think physiognomy seldom errs ; I mean, where it judges, not of the qualities of the mind implanted by nature, but of the state into which the mind has been brought by the events of life. Joy, sorrow, serenity, discontent, are easily distinguished from each other ; and he would be not a bad physiognomist only, but an egregious blun derer in the affairs of common life, who should make a mistake between the man whose heart was satisfied, and whose paths were peace, — and him, in whose breast, grief, discontent, or remorse had taken their abode. ENGLAND. It was in this simplest department of physiognomy, that I exercised my judgment upon the present occasion. My inward exclamation, " Can this be he whom I called the happy owner of all I sur veyed !" was suggested by the momentary glimpse I caught, as the carriage stopped at the gate.

The individual whom I supposed to be the lord of the mansion, and who afterwards proved to be so, was aged ; but the whiteness of his hair, and the wrinkles on his cheek, did not inspire me with that reverence, which virtuous old age seldom fails to produce. Years turn the locks to grey — ■ but so does anguish ; and the furrows that are ploughed by remorse, are unlike the wrinkles of age. My view was, as I have said, but momentary ; but it was sufficient to dissipate the dream of envy. When the carriage had passed on, I walked leisurely forward; my thoughts unoccupied by any thing, — observing passing objects — the plea sant country — feeling upon my frame and spirits, the influence of a fine September day — snuffing the wild fragrance of the whin blossom, which skirted the road — and rejoicing in the animal powers of health and youth, and in the conscious ness of existence.

I have often been disappointed after a day's ENGLAND. walk, when I have reflected upon the employment of my thoughts during it ; I have said to myself, have I acquired any new view upon any subject ? have I resolved any doubt or difficulty that embarrasses me ? has imagination conceived, or thought matured, any thing that may prove useful hereafter ? is it possible, that I have passed a day in the solitude of my own thoughts, and that I have learned nothing, investigated nothing, determined nothing, made not a single addition to my stock of knowledge, improved not in one iota, the powers of reason, nor made a single contribution to the storehouse of fancy ? — and to all these questions, conviction has sorrowfully answered, "you have dreamed the day away!" It is in fact, a melancholy truth, that during a walk, my thoughts are generally altogether worth less ; how it may be with others, I do not know, but of myself, I know, that while in motion, I have never arrived at a conclusion upon any sub ject, nor ever exercised imagination to any purpose.

There is, however, one consolation I have, perhaps I might justly call it an indemnification for all losses ; my solitary walks are full of animal enjoyment. I have an overflowing sense of the pleasure of possessing life and energy ; and this is a species of enjoyment, that I would not barter for any that is intellectual. It is not correct, to ENGLAND. separate intellect from this pleasure, which I have called animal, because body and mind do not admit of any separation ; but it is a kind of enjoyment, which I have little doubt, is shared by the young of almost every tribe and species of the living creation ; the lamb that frisks on the hill side — the foal that capers over the meadow — the young eagle that expands his wings to the morning — the fawn that skips on the mountain ridge — the insects that dance in the sun-beam, share, I believe, the identical emotions that urge me to climb the heathy hill, and that fill me with rejoicing, as I drink in the charms of the external world.

This I am the more convinced of, from the fact, that the sights, and sounds, and smells of nature, never in such moments, awaken in me any train of moral reflection. If I survey the most laughing, or the most magnificent prospect that was ever stretched out by the prodigal hand of nature, it no sooner reaches the mind, than it is reflected back again to the senses : if I smell the fragrance of the wild thyme, or the sweet-brier, I am sensible only of enjoying a sweet perfume : and if I see the lark circling upwards, and hear him pour out his matin-song, I am only conscious of having a glad companion, in the exuberant stirrings of my animal nature. At an early hour in the afternoon, I arrived at ENGLAND. 63 an inn where I proposed dining, and upon glancing my eye into the court-yard, as I entered the house, I saw standing in it, the equipage I have already mentioned.

While I remained, I took the opportunity of inquiring if I had been right, in supposing the person I had seen, to be the noble owner of the domain I had coveted ; and I learnt that my surmise was correct, and that Lord G , was the name of the nobleman. Before I had quite finished my repast, the carriage came up to the door, and as my parlour was on the ground floor, I had a nearer and better opportu nity of examining the person and countenance of Lord G , than I had had at the park-gate. This time, my impressions were confirmed; the unquiet eye, the contracted brow, the tremulous motion of the thin lips, added strength to my suspicion, that a restless mind had at least as great a share as the natural decay of body, in furrowing with deep lines, the cheek of this greyheaded man. The figure too, harmonized well with the countenance ; it was shrunk into the mere outline* of a human form ; and seemed to bend beneath a heavier burthen than the weight of years ; while I looked at him, I thought of the description of Mr. Falkland, as he is last depicted in " Caleb Williams."

As I walked onward towards Chepstow, I felt ENGLAND my curiosity in some degree awakened respecting Lord G . I fancied there must be something connected with his history worth knowing ; for how could it otherwise happen, that a nobleman, possessing all that the world can give, and not under the influence of any recent family affliction (as I had learnt at the inn was not the case), should bear about with him, not the marks of suffering only, but, as I could not help suspect ing traces, darkly ominous of its origin : it might, indeed, be disappointed ambition ; or a mind na turally misanthropic, and full of gall, that had eaten into itself, and turned the sweets of life into bitterness ; yet, the idea that guilt, that remorse, were in some way connected with what I had seen, strongly intrenched itself in my mind ; but as I thought I had now left behind me, the only opportunity I should ever have, of learning any thing further of Lord G 's history, my curio sity soon died away, and as I came in sight of the romantic town and castle of Chepstow, the higher parts still lighted by the descending sun, I had entirely forgotten Lord G and his coveted domain ; and my mind began to revert to Ragland Castle, and its green old age, and Charles the First and the tilts that were witnessed from its walls, and the festivals within them, and the plumed knights, and winsome dames : and with ENGLAND. these thoughts, I passed the evening, and went to sleep.

But the thoughts with which I went to sleep, did not form the subject of my night visions. I dreamed of Lord G , and his domain ; it was a confused dream, the memory of which did not outlive my sleep, though it served to keep alive the fancies of the preceding day. Being engaged to dine at I n C 1, three miles from Chepstow, I purposed to pass the morning in strolling about the town ; not that there was any thing to see that I had not seen already ; but it was market-day, and there is always something new to be seen on a market-day, whether in new wares or new faces. When I had breakfasted, I walked out of the Beaufort-arms, to the book seller's shop, and on entering, the first thing that met my eye, was an announcement, that a public meeting would be held in the assembly-room that forenoon, for the purpose of considering the pro priety of petitioning Parliament for an alteration in the criminal code : Lord G in the chair.

This explained the motive of Lord G 's journey, and that motive went far in my mind to lower my opinion of my skill in physiognomy ; but my curiosity was rather increased than diminished ; and the discovery I had made, tended rather to substitute new for old fancies, than to set mv VOL. i. F ENGLAND. mind at rest. I determined, of course, to attend the meeting. Shortly after twelve o'clock, a very numerous company was assembled, and about half-past twelve, Lord G entered the room and took the chair. I remarked what seemed to me rather extraordinary, that some murmurs, and other tokens of disapprobation, were mingled with the plaudits by which Lord G was greeted, as he took the chair. How could this arise ? So far, however, I felt it to be a confirmation of my first suspicions. Lord G was obnoxious to some ; and no trivial cause, I thought, could occasion the open manifestation of this feeling of animosity.

It could not arise from the nature of the meeting at which his lordship was to preside ; for its object was congenial to the good feelings of all; and an active participation in such an object, would be a reason for esteeming, rather than for condemning a man ; — this circumstance greatly increased my interest in the meeting, and my curiosity respecting its chairman. The business of the day commenced in the usual way ; and after several resolutions had been moved and seconded, the chairman, having re quested another person to take his place, vacated the chair, and desired permission to address the meeting. In most cases, the speeches that are delivered at public meetings, are set orations, ENGLAND. intended either to promote the speaker's individual interest, or to support the credit he has obtained for holding some set of political opinions, or some philanthropic views : if there be any other incen tive than these, it is vanity.

Lord G com menced with a tremulous voice, and at first, was scarcely audible : these imperfections, I attributed to age and infirmity. Soon, however, I was un deceived ; his voice became loud, and firm ; and he spoke with an emphatic energy, that I have never heard equalled — it was eloquence in its truest sense, for every syllable that was uttered, carried instantaneous conviction to all who lis tened. Since then, I have often wished I could have noted down every word of that speech : some portions of it, however, I do remember ; and I cannot resist the temptation I feel, of transferring to these pages, a short memento of what I then considered so convincing. " Gentlemen," said Lord G , " Where, I ask, are the fruits of that vast engine of national benevolence, which is wielded by the humane, throughout this Christian empire, for improving the moral condition of man ?

Is it, that this stream of charity, which is poured out continually upon the land, is useless? or is it not rather, that there is some coun teracting principle at work, which sets at nought f2 ENGLAND. the efforts ofthe Christian and the philanthropist ? What nation on earth can compete with Britain, in the number and magnitude of those institutions, which are offered for the alleviation and the cure of the moral, as well as the physical evils incident to humanity ; — and yet, where is the nation upon earth, on whose records we find so dark a catalogue of crime ? We must look, Gentlemen, for a solution of these difficulties, in the imperfection of our criminal laws ; for, if we refuse to come to this conclusion, then we must admit, that the powers of Christianity and philanthropy will for ever be exerted in vain.