A Tour to and from Venice, by the Vaudois and the Tyrol

Front matter

?_wa <_/. _ a_V m J. _5__»a. st. _*_. _? Sæsmema _E)_i_©___a»g(gA__.__©__s_E__ as. Zona < A TOUR TO AND FEOM VENICE, BY THE VAUDOIS AND THE TYROL. Bl" LOUISA STUART COSTELLO, AUTHOR OF " A SUMMER AMONGST THE BOCCAGES AND THE VINES," "THE ROSE GARDEN OF PERSIA," ETC. etc. " The sundry contemplation of my travels, in which my often rumination wraps me , is a most humourous sadness." — As You Like It. LONDON: JOHN OLLIVIER, 59, PALL MALL. 1846. TO HIS GRACE THE DUKE OF DEVONSHIRE, TO WHOM HER OBLIGATIONS AEE MANY FOE HIS INDULGENT KINDNESS AND COURTESY, THIS VOLUME IS INSCRIBED BV HIS GRATEFUL AND OBEDIENT HUMBLE SERVANT, LOUISA STUART COSTELLO.

Introduction

. To almost every traveller in the North of Italy Venice is known ; to every painter, poet, and ad mirer of the arts, that beautiful city is dear ; and so well and so much has it been described, that the stranger imagines he is already acquainted with all the details of beauty which belong to its fairy land : but on his arrival at the spot where those palaces of the Fata Morgana rise out of the enshrining sea, he finds that all is new, all is startling, all is fresh, as though he had never looked on a Canaletti, or read a line of description of the most bewitching of all places in the world of fancjr or reality. Those who know Venice may not object to com pare the impressions of the last comer with their own ; those who do not, may be excited to visit the lovely gem of the Adriatic, and already the road to it is strewn with flowers and spread with velvet ; the rail-road from Venice to Padua is completed, and others are in active progression to Milan, to Turin, to the Lago Maggiore.

From London to Paris is a rapid journey, from Paris to Lyons will shortly be as quick, and, very soon, it will be nearly the work of a few idle days to visit the shores of the Lido, and to 'swim in a gondola.'

INTRODUCTION.

. VI Then, how many charming pauses may be made between ! what mountains, and lakes, and cities may be seen on the way, at the stations in the North of Italy ! It will be as easy to go to Venice as to Belgium, and who will resist the temptation, having even only a week or two to spare ? Travellers whose time is their own, journeying thus without fatigue, will linger long on their route, and, according to their enthusiasm, will regulate their movements ; but to travellers of all descriptions Venice may become as familiar as Paris before very much time has elapsed, and to those who are fond of roaming I offer these sketches, as the latest which they may choose to guide them on their envied way. A TOUR TO AND FROM VENICE.

Chapter I. The Entrance By Savoy

BOURG — COSTUME — BELLEY — THE RHONE — LAGO BORGnETTO — SUNSET ON THE MOUNTAINS — ILLUMINATION — CHAMBERY MUSIC — PALACE — WALKS — CATHEDRAL — THE FAVOURITE FOEMS AND COLOURS ST. REAL — VENICE PRESERVED. June had just promised summer suns and cloudless skies, after the cold and ungenial spring of 1845, when, with the intention of visiting all that Italy could spare of her beautiful scenes, during a short tour, I left Paris, and traversed that least interesting part of France to the eye, which leads towards Savoy. Our route was by the railroad to Orleans, and from thence by Bourges, to which curious old town many pleasing recollections of former rambles attach themselves in my mind, and, after leaving Moulins, the remainder of the way was new to me. Macon* * Macon has an unhappy celebrity in the history of the perse cutions of the sixteenth century, when the city, after great resis tance, was taken by Marshal Tavannes, and subjected to his cruelties.

It was given up to plunder, and yielded a good harvest B COSTUME. and Bourg I had not passed before ; and here I was amused at the female costume, particularly at the latter place, where a round black beaver hat is worn, the little crown of which is covered with rows of lace, as well as the brim, over which dangle, in the wearer's face, four long lappets of black silk edged with lace: a gold cord and tassels complete the head-dress, which is the strangest and least con venient of any in this part of the country, yet not unbecoming to a pretty face, few of which I, however, saw. We reached the charming town of Belley, which to the Catholic conquerors. It appears that Madame de Tavannes had a peculiar genius for discovering Huguenot hidden treasure, and for her part of the spoil had no less than one hundred and eighty trunks of moveables, as Beza relates, " besides the yarn stuffs, all sorts of linen, as bed-clothes, table-cloths, and napkins, wherewith Macon was reputed to be better furnished than any other city in France.

As to the ransoms, rings, utensils and other precious things, the value is not known, but only so far, that those who had the management of such affairs, said to their friends, that Tavannes got there as much as would have purchased ten thousand livres a year." The " Leaps of Macon" are of as horrible fame as the " Noyades of Nantes." The governor appointed by Tavannes to guard the city was a wretch named St. Poinct, who made it a practice to give feasts to the rank and fashion of Macon, and then indulged them with an exhibition which was called " The Farce of St. Poinct," and consisted in making some Protestant prisoner leap from the bridge into the Saone, where he was drowned. This delectable entertainment was much enjoyed by the orthodox ladies who beheld it. THE RHONE. stands amongst groves of perfumed trees and is sur rounded by meadows full of glowing flowers, when we began the descent of a fine bold mountain risinp above the majestic Rhone, a river, grand and glorious wherever its deep blue waters appear, whether pur ple and transparent, rushing wildly through the streets of Geneva, or ushering the traveller into Savoy beside beetling rocks and caverns echoing to the hoarse murmurs of its troubled surges.

A fairy suspension-bridge, one of those wonders of art, placed as if to startle the lover of rude nature, as he gazes on the triumph of man's industry amidst scenes whose sublimity seems formed for solitude alone, conducts the traveller across the river. Here the officials of the Sardinian Government exercise their office and their vigilance, disturbing the effect produced on the mind by the first sight of a stupendous line of rocky cliffs by which the onward road lies. These seem to meet and close the way, till, at length, they give place to magnificent groves of trees, to spreading corn fields and vines, whose festoons are already allowed to take a broader sweep than those of receding France. It was in the early evening of a brilliant day that we ascended the mountain whose zigzag road leads towards Aix les Bains, our destination for the night.

Thick forests of dark fir-trees rose on either side, through the boughs of which the sun gleamed richly, throwing chequered lines of go! d over the winding path . The birds were loud in their rejoicings that a happy b SUN-SET ON THE MOUNTAINS. season seemed beginning, likely to increase in brightness and warmth with each ripening day. Presently the scene assumed a darker and wilder character as we reached the summit of the moun tain, and, in a few minutes, the toilsome pace we had travelled for some time was exchanged for one quicker and more cheerful, as we commenced the descent. Before us the continued winding of the road disclosed, through openings in the woods, ranges of mountains crowding over each other, of different heights, all coloured by the vivid rays of the now declining sun : some of an emerald green, some a shining grey, and some tinged with a rich deep brown.

Far below, in the plain, lay, like a gem, a beautiful transparent lake, surrounded by high hills, whose dark forms were coloured of the deepest violet. While we were gazing on this charming vision, the sun sunk suddenly behind a huge stony mass, and, in an instant, a blaze of splendour was sent up which gave the whole scene the effect of magic. The violet hills became spotted and streaked with hues reflected from clouds which appeared all of gold, and were hovering over their summits : the lines of strata came out soon after, clearly defined in the liquid light as though the interior riches of a mine were being pointed out : this grew more and more intense, till every ledge and projecting angle caught the glow and blazed out burnished and glittering with ruddier strength. Then appeared tints of metallic green and purple, LAGO BORGHETTO. 5 like those on the changing wings of tropical birds ; sometimes they faded a moment to return still more brilliant than before, till at length every other colour disappeared, and the whole range of moun tains, near and distant, became one mass of ruddy golden light, as if the wide region had suddenly taken fire.

The lake below reflected all these changes, lying like a magic mirror to receive the wondrous pictures which passed over its surface. At the time that the transforming hand of approaching night was working these wonders, we were descending the steep road, turning and winding till we thought the mountain would never cease to shew us the variegated face of the lovely Largo Borghetto, and its surrounding hills of burnished gold. At length we reached the town of Bourget, and there learnt that the recent rains had so much injured the road to Aix, that it was scarcely prudent to continue our route thither, as the shades were becoming deeper: we decided, therefore, to proceed to Chambery, and for more than an hour drove along a road perfectly level, bordered with a triple row of poplars. As we approached Chambery we observed an unusual quantity of light : and long lines of houses, all gay with illuminations, began to disclose them selves by degrees, till every tower and pinnacle and outline of the town came out in glittering ILLUMINATION. relief against the sky, and announced a public rejoicing for the arrival of the King of Sardinia, who was just come to pay a visit to his good subjects in this part of Savoy.

We drove up to an enormous hotel, all blazing with rows of lights in every window, and our fears of finding no room were instantly dispelled by the attendant spirits of this enchanted palace, where the first impression of the vastness of Italian inns was made, as I entered the spacious apartments allotted me. It was true that morning somewhat destroyed the illusion that I was in a palace, as the finely inlaid boarded floors were then discovered to be far from clean, and the streams of melted wax which had poured down the walls were less graceful than the brilliancy they had given birth to on the previous evening. The sun was still propitious to us, and we walked about the town of Chambery ou the day after our arrival, which was Sunday, enjoying its beauties, which are probably not always so apparent.

In general this first town in Savoy is dull and deserted, but the presence of a royal personage had given much life and bustle to the place. Groups of mili tary were seen in the streets, some easily recognised as amateurs, who had assumed a warlike guise only for the time, in honour of the king ; gaily dressed townspeople walked arm in arm ; and the women's strange head-dresses of embroidered muslin, being clean and white, had even a picturesque effect, though CHAMBERY. 7 not graceful in themselves, being flat as a plate and round, placed at the back of their heads. They wear short waists, are clumsy, and have little grace or beauty to boast of. I never remember to have heard such unpleasing military music as at Chambery : the drums and fifes, which did much duty on this day, seemed all wooden, and only succeeded in making a deafening noise, as they swept proudly along past windows where numerous tiny blue flags, semee with white crosses, shewed the loyalty of the inhabitants.

There are many fountains in the town, but none of any elegance ; the streets are wide and clean, and one street of arcades is very handsome. The old palace of the Dukes of Savoy is a lofty and imposing building, preserving many vestiges of its original antique towers and battlements. It is now the residence of the Governor, and the King was lodged there during his stay, which was expected to be short, as the object of his visit was to learn particulars respecting a dreadful fire which had destroyed the town of Sallenches, and rendered it the sad wreck which we afterwards saw on passing through it on our return from Chamouny. The chapel of the Ducal palace is very elegant in its form, and some of the ancient painted glass still glows in the long delicate windows, though modern taste has done much to destroy its effect.

From the flight of steps at the chapel door the sudden apparition ofa range of rocky peaks, of grotesque form, THE FAVOURITE CATHEDRAL. is startling as they rise between the trees at a distance. There is a pretty shady public walk near, which, of course, formerly formed part of the castle court, and tbe hills from hence, though of rather clumsy form, have a certain air in their singularity not displeasing. There is nothing very remarkable in the Cathedral, which is profusely ornamented, and the roof richly fretted like net-work, in a style which does not satisfy the lover of the pure Gothic. I could not help contrasting it with the unrivalled church of dilapidated Bourges, which I had just had time to revisit for a few moments on my journey from Orleans. Many hours had I passed formerly under the magnificentlybeautifulroof of St. Etienne of Bourges, always in admiration of its grandeur and sublimity, but never did it appear to me finer than when I last paid it my hurried homage en passant.

High mass was being performed, and the dark solemn lofty aisles echoed to the rich full tones of the organ, and the clear deep voices of the choristers : streams of rainbow light checquered the marble floor from the finesttinted glass in the world, and theru by, emerald, and sapphire of thecountless windows blazed through the deep gloom, dispelling and adorningit. But that a journey to Italy promised so much, I should scarcely have been restrained from lingering long in that favourite retreat, and once more exploring the mysteries ofthe city of Jacques Cœur,one ofthe spots which most interested me in my former wanderings. FORMS AND COLOURS. 9 Strangely different are the churches of Savoy ; and, at first, the passion for painting, gilding, and adornment apparent in this region, strikes the admirer of purer and simpler taste with something like disgust, which is only to be dispelled when the gawdy colouring he sees in imitation is exchanged for true marble, of every bright and soft hue and shade, that the most delicate pencil could de lineate.

To me, for instance, wedded as I have been to the sombre severity of Norman and Saxon architecture, accustomed to grope in shadow for the exquisite foliage, the graceful wreathes and flowers of stone which conceal themselves in the huge masses, which they succeed in rendering light and graceful by their persevering embraces, to me, even the really lovely marbles of Italy, the pink, and yellow, and red, and green pillars, crowned with golden capitals, the mosaic roofs of every colour, and the chapels glittering with riches of every de scription, appeared at first sight flaring and gaudy, and unworthy to compare with my beloved Gothic : even as the unclouded skj^, blue, intensely blue, without a shade, dazzled rather than pleased my eye. The stranger often, doubtless, experiences this first disappointment, on finding himself suddenly in new and unaccustomed scenes ; his resource must be to " bide his time," and his patience will be re warded : his eye becomes educated, and as he begins to understand what he sees, he gives every new scene credit for the beauties it affords him.

" VENICE PRESERVED." As for enchanting Italy, whoever enters its magi cal precincts coldly, quits it, even if he have only beheld its threshold as I did, a devotee ; and as for Venice, where I, alas ! took my leave of Italy, who ever sees that " city of the heart," wonders how he has existed before be become a lover of the most mysteriously poetical of all places under the sun. So, perhaps, thought St. Real, the ingenious author ofthe "Conjuration des Espagnoles contre Venice," who was born at Chambery. His very curious work is so well written, and witb such an appearance of truth, that it is difficult to regard the nar rative as otherwise than authentic. To us "it hath a spell beyond its name" — Since it furnished Otway with the subject, and most of the characters, of his famous and beautifully pathetic play.

Belvidera is the only imaginary personage in the piece, and the fate of the conspira tors, though as tragical, is not followed, for obvious reasons, by the poet. He has seized the character of Pierre with great ability, and has caught the spirit of the plot with singular fidelity : the charac ters of Bedomar and of Renault might have been made more of, had he written a romance instead of a play, but, in dramatic compositions intended for the stage, it is difficult for any one but Shakespeare, to condense a whole life into an hour successfully. St. Real makes Jaques Pierre a Norman and a corsair, renowned as the most gallant captain of his time, with a spirit and manners beyond the wild " VENICE PRESERVED." 11 sphere in which he loved to move. Having become master of a good fortune by his boldness, he retired) though still in the flower of his ago, with a wife and family, from active life, and the Duke of Savoy considered his dominions honoured by his taking up his abode at Nice, which was in his jurisdiction.

Here, it seems, Pierre kept quite a court, which was frequented by all the adventurers by sea and land, whom the love of glory brought into action. They sought him as their oracle and leader, he was the arbiter of their differences, and the object of their admiration and respect. So great was his reputation that the Duke d'Ossuna became jealous that so renowned a captain should not have chosen his do minions, rather than those of any other Prince, and flattered by his desire to possess him as his friend, Pierre consented to transfer the honour of his coun tenance from one Duke to the other. He had, how ever, scarcely established himself on the coast of Sicily, before his old love of the sea and adventure returned, and it was not long before the Turks had reason to regret his arrival in their vicinity.

He ravaged the whole shore of the Levant, and brought home magnificent spoils to his equally adventurous master, whose ambitious projects on Venice had just been roused by the Spanish Ambassador Be domar, and as nothing could possibly jump so well with the humour of Pierre, as a plot so extensive and important as that conceived against the proud Republic, he readily lent his hand to assist its success. THE AMBASSADOR. Renault, the ancient lover of Belvidera, and the poet's cause of the failure of the plot, is thus introduced by the soidisant historian. Nicolas de Renault was a French gentleman, a refuge at Venice, for some unexplained cause. He was extremely poor, but esteemed virtue higher than wealth, and loved glory beyond virtue, for if he could not attain the object of his passionate devotion by worthy means, he did not hesitate to adopt those the most criminal.

He had adopted from the an cients that rare carelessness of life, which is generally the spring of extraordinary designs, and he regretted those antique times, when individual merit influ enced the destiny of a state, and when those who possessed great qualities never wanted an opportunity of shewing them. The character of the Spaniard, Bedomar, is still more forcibly drawn by St. Real. He is represented as one of the most powerful and dangerous spirits that Spain ever produced, as the writings he has left behind him testify. He had also formed himself and his ideas on the model of the ancients: he com pared all that they recounted with that which passed beneath his own eye. He carefully observed the difference and the resemblance which all things bear to each other, and how certain combinations attend the nature of these similarities and varieties.

He generally decided in his mind the event of an enter prise when he had heard the plan and foundation. If he found by the result that he had been deceived, THE AMBASSADOR. he examined into the cause of his error, and sought the reason of his mistake. By anxious study he became aware of the surest methods towards a successful end ; comprehended the true ways and most propitious circumstances which lead to a happy result to great designs. This habitual practice of reading, of meditation, and of observation of the affairs of the world, had raised him to such a point of sagacity, that his conjectures on the future were looked upon by the council of Spain as prophecies. To this profound knowledge of the nature of great affairs, he added remarkable talents to use . it ; he possessed a facility in speaking and writing inex pressibly fascinating ; bad a marvellous instinct in comprehending the character of persons at a glance with manners always gay and cheerful, and the appearance of more vivacity than gravity, avoiding mystery, and almost approaching naivete in his address ; of a free and complaisant humour, the more impenetrable, because he appeared open to all inquiry ; tender, insinuating, and flattering ; he had the secret of gaining the coldest hearts, and he could command his feelings so as to seem perfectly calm in the midst of the most fearful agitation.

Chapter II. The Pass

VALLEY OF THE ISERE — THE WILD CAT THE PONT DU DIABLE — THE FORT — MONT CENIS — THE PASS — jpMOEIES — HOSPICE — DORA RIPARIA— VAL DE SUZA — gT. GEORGIO — I TRE CARLI. Sunday is very strictly observed at Chambery and throughout the Sardinian States, so that the towns on that day have all the quietness and propriety of a Protestant country. I did not feel interest enough in the adventures and recollections of " the self-tor turing sophist" to seek out les Charmettes, -w#*ere Rousseau passed some of his early days with Madame de Warens, and as Chateaubriand says, " pour prix de l'hospitalite qu'il en recut, de l'amitie qu'elle lui porta, se crut philosophiquement oblige de la deshonorer.;' We left Chambery soon after day-break on a fine but fitful morning, and pursued our way through an interesting country, the mountains tipped with snow, beckoning us on beyond the flowing Isere, which we crossed by a steep picturesque bridge, flanked with antique towers, at Montmeillan.

Festoons of vines threw their garlands on each side of the road, from tree to tree, primitive looking carts, drawn by fine oxen, passed us every now and then, and we met market people from distant villages, hastening to- VALLEY OF ISERE. wards the town with the produce of their farms and meadows, looking neat and cheerful; Little chapels with pointed roofs, their edges of tin glittering in the sun, peeped out of encircling groves ; and patches of snow, lying low in the hollows ofthe hills, told of the past winter. We went through many villages, almost crushed in amongst wild craggy rocks, at the entrance of valleys which suddenly opened out and displayed smiling fields sloping down to the sparkling Isere, which winded on its silver way, spanned by a variety of pretty rustic wooden bridges.

Sometimes we entered a gorge, whose savage features contrasted strangely with the cheerfulness we had left behind. "lugged rocks of grotesque forms came peering over*the nearer range, and one huge block for several leagues frowned upon us in the shape, clearly defined to fancy's eyes, of a cat-a-mountain, now glaring with huge fierce eyes, now concealing itself as if in act to spring down upon us, now fully revealed and menacing. Beyond Aiguebelle the scenes become still more wild, and more snowy peaks were apparent, shining in a strong sun, which en livened our way for some hours. Here and there on the heights, from distance to distance, strange ruins appeared, indicating the spots where castles formerly commanded the passes, and offered formidable barriers against incursion ; some of these are picturesque, but, in general, present no very striking or impressive features, though they PONT DU DIABLE. harmonise well with the ruggedness of the whole scene.

We were not fortunate enough to obtain the view of Mont Blanc, with which a clear sky sometimes favours travellers, threatening clouds, which occa sionally burst in showers, veiling the distant pros pect entirely from view, as we reached St. Jean de Maurienne, once a place of consequence, but now without interest as regards the vestiges of old time, which give importance to insignificant spots. The town is almost new, with handsome houses and colonnades and good public walks. After passing St. Michel, the scenery improves ; fine fir woods clothe the hills and the impetuous Arc rushes headlong over enormous blocks of im peding rocks with ceaseless roar. Beyond rise in stupendous grandeur awful looking snow peaks, which the windings of the road now conceal and now disclose. Illumined by flashes of lightning, we observed, rearing its huge form exactly in our path, clearly defined against a mass of black mountains and menacing thunder clouds, a gigantic fort, perched on the utmost summit of a pile of rugged rocks which formed an isolated pyramid, towering above the valley.

Round and round the mountain, like an iron belt, ran batteries and strong fortifications, defying attack and courting assault. This we found was the fort of Lesseillon, the grim sentinel who guards the passage to Italy. THE PONT DU DIABLE. Standing on the Pont du Diable, a bridge which connects the fort with the road, we were not a little amused to see a lady, with a smart parasol and Parisian costume, leaning on the arm of a military man, and looking anxiously down the road, probably expecting the arrival of the mail or some courier with despatches. However magnificent the position of the fort, or sublime the scenery round it, I could not help pitying the pair, so much of whose time must be necessarily passed in this solitary and dreary retreat, magnificent to the eye of a traveller, who ad mires as he passes, but melancholy enough for a resident all the year round.

We met with no wolves, though there are said to be many in the neighbouring forest of Bramante, being more or less fortunate than Horace Walpole was on this spot, when travelling with the poet Gray, but were sorry to find that the clouds gathered thicker as we ascended the steep road to Lans le Bourg, where we were to sleep, and from whence we were to cross Mont Cenis next day. This mountain defile is extremely grand and gives promise of the higher and more stupendous ascent which ushers the stranger into Italy. At Lans le Bourg I was by no means sorry to see a large fire blazing in our apartments, and to look through the closed windows at the snowy mountains and dashing waterfalls before us. When we began the ascent of Mont Cenis, at six o'clock the next morning, the weather was grey and c MONT CENIS. — THE PASS. cloudy, but we still hoped the sun of June would have power enough to assert its supremacy : we were, however, disappointed, and I can only think of having traversed this pass into Italy as if in a dream : every object before, above, around us, was enveloped in a thick white mist, which cleared away during the three hours of our passage only enough to permit us occasionally to see masses and patches of snow on the peaks nearest, but shut out entirely every pros pect removed a few hundred yards from the route.

We safely passed the sometimes dangerous spots where travellers are wont to be assisted by canton niers, whose occupation was, for the present, gone : the snow ploughs rested unused by the way-side, and no appearance of peril gave animation to the dreary scene. Although it was impossible not to regret the ab sence of the sun and the blue sky, which must give a magical beauty to this wild region, there was something to my mind extremely solemn and im posing in the total isolation into which I appeared to be suddenly plunged. A world of cloud and vapour spread around me ; the way before, the pre cipices beneath, the deep ravines, the stupendous peaks, all were confounded in one chaos of white mist, which seemed continually rising from some unknown abyss below, and curled its transparent arms round and round thicker columns of unsub stantial vapour, which appeared constantly forming on the sides and tops of dimly-seen crags : these MEMORIES. snowy mists now moved rapidly, now crept slowly, along the rocky edges, which cut them for a space, and were then instantly shrouded.