While thus every passion, bad and good, ferments—a touch is given, and up springs armed revolt. This must be put down or the peace of Europe will be disturbed. Peace is a lovely thing. It is horrible to image the desolation of war; the cottage burnt, the labour of the husbandman destroyed—outrage and death there, where security of late spread smiles and joy:—and the fertility and beauty of Italy exaggerate still more the hideousness of the contrast. Cannot it be that peaceful mediation and a strong universal sense of justice may interpose, instead of the cannon and bayonet?
There is another view to be taken. We have lately been accustomed to look on Italy as a discontented province of Austria, forgetful that her supremacy dates only from the downfall of Napoleon. From the invasion of Charles VIII. till 1815, Italy has been a battle-field, where the Spaniard, the French, and the German, have fought for mastery; and we are blind indeed, if we do not see that such will occur again, at least among the two last. Supposing a war to arise between them, one of the first acts of aggression on the part of France would be to try to drive the Germans from Italy. Even if peace continue, it is felt that the papal power is tottering to its fall—it is only supported, because the French will not allow Austria to extend her dominions, and the Austrian is eager to prevent any change that may afford pretence for the French to interfere. Did the present pope act with any degree of prudence, his power thus propped might last some time longer; but as it is, who can say, how soon, for the sake of peace in the rest of Italy, it may not be necessary to curtail his territories.
The French feel this and begin to dream of dominion across the Alps—the occupation of Ancona was a feeler put out—it gained no positive object except to check Austria—for the rest its best effect was to reiterate the lesson they have often taught, that no faith should be given to their promises of liberation.
The Italians consider that the hour will arrive sooner or later when the stranger will again dispute for dominion over them; when the peace of their wealthy towns and smiling villages will be disturbed by nations meeting in hostility on their soil. The efforts of their patriots consequently tend to make preparation, that such an hour may find them, from the Alps to Brundusium, united. They feel the necessity also of numbering military leaders among themselves. The most enlightened Italians instead of relying on the mystery of oaths, the terror of assassination, the perpetual conspiracy of secret associations, are anxious that their young men should exercise themselves in some school of warfare—they wish that the new generation may be emancipated by their courage, their knowledge, their virtues; which should oppose an insurmountable barrier to foreign invasion and awe their rulers into concession.
Niccolini, in his latest work, Arnaldo da Brescia, has put these sentiments in the mouth of his hero. That poem, replete with passionate eloquence and striking incident, presents a lively picture of the actual state of Italy. The insolence of the German, the arrogance of the popes, the degraded state of the people, and the aspirations of the patriots, each find a voice. It is impossible not to hope well for a country, whose poets, whose men of reflection and talent, without one exception, all use the gifts of genius or knowledge, to teach the noblest lessons of devotion to their country; and whose youth receive the same with devoted enthusiasm.
When we visit Italy, we become what the Italians were censured for being,—enjoyers of the beauties of nature, the elegance of art, the delights of climate, the recollections of the past, and the pleasures of society, without a thought beyond. Such to a great degree was I while there, and my book does not pretend to be a political history or dissertation. I give fragments—not a whole. Such as they are, I shall be repaid for the labour and anxiety of putting them together, if they induce some among my countrymen to regard with greater attention, and to sympathise in the struggles of a country, the most illustrious and the most unfortunate in the world.
CONTENTS.
| PART I.—1840. | |
| LETTER I. | |
| PAGE | |
|---|---|
| PROJECT FOR SPENDING THE SUMMER ON THE BANKS OF THE LAKE OF COMO.—FINE SPRING.—STORMY WEATHER.—PASSAGE FROM DOVER TO CALAIS.—THE DILIGENCE.—PARIS.—PLAN OF OUR ROUTE | [1] |
| LETTER II. | |
| JOURNEY TO METZ.—A DAY SPENT AT METZ.—PROCEED TO TRÈVES.—ENTER PRUSSIA.—TRÈVES.—VOYAGE DOWN THE MOSELLE.—SLOW STEAMBOAT UP THE RHINE TO MAYENCE.—RAILROAD TO FRANCFORT | [11] |
| LETTER III. | |
| DARMSTADT.—HEIDELBERG.—CARLSRUHE.—BADEN-BADEN | [31] |
| LETTER IV. | |
| OFFENBERG.—ETTENHEIM.—FREYBURG.—THE HÖLLENTHAL.—THE BLACK FOREST.—ARRIVE AT SCHAFFHAUSEN | [42] |
| LETTER V. | |
| THE RHINE.—ZURICH.—JOURNEY TO COIRE.—VIA MALA.—THE SPLUGEN.—CHIAVENNA.—COLICO.—THE STEAMBOAT ON THE LAKE OF COMO TO CADENABBIA | [49] |
| LETTER VI. | |
| ALBERGO GRANDE DELLA CADENABBIA.—THE BROTHERS BRENTANI.—THE VIEW FROM OUR WINDOWS.—THE MADMAN.—ARRIVAL OF THE BOAT | [64] |
| LETTER VII. | |
| EXCURSIONS ON THE LAKE.—MANZONI’S ODE OF “CINQUE MAGGIO” | [75] |
| LETTER VIII. | |
| VOYAGE TO COMO.—THE OPERA.—WALK TOWARDS MENAGGIO | [88] |
| LETTER IX. | |
| ITALIAN POETRY.—ITALIAN MASTER.—THE COUNTRY PEOPLE.—THE FULCINO.—GRAND FESTA.—ADIEU TO CADENABBIA | [95] |
| LETTER X. | |
| VOYAGE TO LECCO.—BERGAMO.—THE OPERA OF “MOSÈ.”—MILAN | [105] |
| LETTER XI. | |
| NON-ARRIVAL OF A LETTER.—DEPARTURE OF MY FRIENDS.—SOLITUDE.—THE DUOMO.—TABLE D’HÔTE.—AUSTRIAN GOVERNMENT | [114] |
| LETTER XII. | |
| DEPARTURE FROM MILAN.—JOURNEY ACROSS THE SIMPLON.—LAKE OF GENEVA.—LYONS.—STEAMBOAT TO CHALONS.—DILIGENCE TO PARIS.—HISTORY OF THE EVENTFUL JOURNEY ACROSS MONT ST. GOTHARD | [125] |
| PART II.—1842. | |
| LETTER I. | |
| STEAM VOYAGE TO AMSTERDAM.—RUBENS’ PICTURE OF THE DESCENT FROM THE CROSS.—VARIOUS MISADVENTURES.—LIÈGE.—COLOGNE.—COBLENTZ.—MAYENCE.—FRANCFORT | [155] |
| LETTER II. | |
| JOURNEY TO KISSINGEN.—TAKING LODGINGS.—THE PUBLIC GARDENS | [178] |
| LETTER III. | |
| KISSINGEN.—THE CUR.—THE TABLE D’HÔTE.—THE WALKS.—GERMAN MASTER.—BATHING | [184] |
| LETTER IV. | |
| MEDICAL TREATMENT.—AMUSEMENTS.—GERMAN MASTER.—BROKLET.—PREPARATIONS FOR DEPARTURE | [189] |
| LETTER V. | |
| LEAVE KISSINGEN.—BATHS OF BRUKENAU.—FULDA.—EISENACH.—CASTLE OF WARTBURGH.—GOTHA.—ERFURT.—WEIMAR.—THE ELSTER.—LEIPSIG | [198] |
| LETTER VI. | |
| RAILROAD TO BERLIN.—UNTER-DEN-LINDEN.—GALLERY.—PALACE.—MUSEUM.—OPERA.—IRON FOUNDRY | [217] |
| LETTER VII. | |
| ARRIVAL AT DRESDEN.—RABENAU.—GALLERY AT DRESDEN.—MADONNA DI SAN SISTO.—PICTURES OF CORREGGIO | [231] |
| LETTER VIII. | |
| RABENAU.—THE GALLERY.—THE TERRACE OF BRÜHL.—THE GROSSE GARTEN.—THE GREAT HEAT | [240] |
| LETTER IX. | |
| THE GREEN VAULTS.—COLLECTION OF PORCELAIN.—DER FREISCHÜTZ.—THE GREAT DROUGHT.—PREPARATIONS FOR DEPARTURE | [251] |
| LETTER X. | |
| THE SAXON SWITZERLAND | [259] |
| LETTER XI. | |
| BATHS AT TÖPLITZ.—LOBOSITZ.—ARRIVAL AT PRAGUE | [277] |
RAMBLES
IN