The inquiry will naturally be, What was the inducement? The answer must be briefly this: I designed going again to Europe, and I wished to familiarize myself with every point in our own country, and to obtain some general knowledge at least of the resources, productions, and characteristics of this vast territory. Emigration had been setting in so rapidly, the interest felt by foreigners was increasing, and the inquiries made by English, French, German, and other races were so frequent that I hoped to be able to answer all general interrogations, if not practically, theoretically. The embarrassment to Americans abroad is frequently great from having too little knowledge of their own country.
An English traveller in Switzerland once asked me why we had such frightful accidents by explosion and otherwise on the Mississippi river, while cases were so rare in England. I replied that high-pressure steamers were employed, and that the navigation was obstructed by snags and sawyers, or trees carried down and fastened in the river-bed. He remarked, that an American had told him our boats were all low-pressure. I replied, that the gentleman was from the north, and had probably never seen a high-pressure steamer.
I trust the reader will accept these explanations as an apology for an itinerant life, and not attribute it all to the passion for travel.
1848.
XXXVIII.
Rome, May, 1848.
My voyage across the Atlantic was rather boisterous. We were exposed to the gale the night that the unfortunate ship Stephen Whitney was lost with upwards of one hundred passengers, near Liverpool, while we were approaching the port of Havre. We left Sandy Hook together, and reached the British and French coasts about the same time.
I found Havre much the same as I left it some years since, but instead of coasting along the beautiful banks of the Seine, by steamers, as formerly, to Rouen, and thence by diligence to Paris, I was whirled through in locomotive style in a few hours.
My stay at Paris was only sufficient to make preparations for my southern trip. I took my departure via Orleans, Tours, Bordeaux, Toulouse, Nismes, and Arles; the latter cities, with their vast collection of Roman ruins, are worthy of a visit. At all these places I made a short sojourn, not having touched them in my former travels in France. In my general voyages, I have adopted as a rule varying my route, in order to see the entire country, for which reason instead of going from Marseilles to Genoa by water, as formerly, I took land conveyance to Toulon in order to visit the great French naval station, and the prisons and workshops of the five thousand French culprits.
From Toulon I came to Nice, the city so celebrated for its salubrity of climate, where so many pulmonary patients are sent by their physicians to spend the winter, and where I designed also passing some months. But here I must be allowed to differ in opinion with the faculty, as far as I am at liberty to judge from my own experience. The approach to the city from Toulon, winding along the shore of the Mediterranean with its walled hills, amphitheatre-like, covered with a profusion of olive, lemon, and orange trees, laden with fruit, is truly enchanting. The mild and genial rays of the sun, with the light breeze from the sea, is most grateful, while one beholds in the distance the ranges of mountains covered with snow to their summits. The new part of the city is well built with spacious streets on both sides of the river Paglione, or rather mountain torrent, but the old town is quite Italian, with narrow streets, tall buildings, and much filth. The rides and promenades along the coast and over the hills and mountains in the suburbs, can scarcely be surpassed; but the transition from the heat of the day to the cool of night, or from the exposure of the sun’s rays to the shade, is too severe for those of a pulmonary habit.
From Nice I took my departure along the coast to Genoa, and over one of the most interesting roads for the sublime and picturesque, I had yet seen. The shore is studded with small cities and fishing towns; elevated at times nearly to the summit of the mountains which project in the sea; the huge and elaborate tunnels are cut through solid rocks which are covered with snow; then a descent upon vineyards and orange groves, with a wide and expanded view upon the bosom of the sea, dotted with fruit and fishing vessels; and around the ever-varying costume of the peasantry and fishermen, the former engaged in gathering the olive and bearing loaded baskets of oranges, and the latter lazily lounging in the sun’s rays, or hauling their vessels on the beach, or mending their nets preparatory to a cruise.