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Page 22
Grand, solemn, and dark was the whole landscape around. The gigantic
pine-forests, on the pointed crags, seemed almost like little tufts of
heather, colored by the surrounding clouds. It began to snow, a cold wind blew
and roared as though it were seeking a bride.
"Augh!" sighed he, "were we only on the other side the Alps, then we should
have summer, and I could get my letters of credit cashed. The anxiety I feel
about them prevents me enjoying Switzerland. Were I but on the other side!"
And so saying he was on the other side in Italy, between Florence and Rome.
Lake Thracymene, illumined by the evening sun, lay like flaming gold between
the dark-blue mountain-ridges; here, where Hannibal defeated Flaminius, the
rivers now held each other in their green embraces; lovely, half-naked
children tended a herd of black swine, beneath a group of fragrant
laurel-trees, hard by the road-side. Could we render this inimitable picture
properly, then would everybody exclaim, "Beautiful, unparalleled Italy!" But
neither the young Divine said so, nor anyone of his grumbling companions in
the coach of the vetturino.
The poisonous flies and gnats swarmed around by thousands; in vain one waved
myrtle-branches about like mad; the audacious insect population did not cease
to sting; nor was there a single person in the well-crammed carriage whose
face was not swollen and sore from their ravenous bites. The poor horses,
tortured almost to death, suffered most from this truly Egyptian plague; the
flies alighted upon them in large disgusting swarms; and if the coachman got
down and scraped them off, hardly a minute elapsed before they were there
again. The sun now set: a freezing cold, though of short duration pervaded the
whole creation; it was like a horrid gust coming from a burial-vault on a warm
summer's day--but all around the mountains retained that wonderful green tone
which we see in some old pictures, and which, should we not have seen a
similar play of color in the South, we declare at once to be unnatural. It was
a glorious prospect; but the stomach was empty, the body tired; all that the
heart cared and longed for was good night-quarters; yet how would they be? For
these one looked much more anxiously than for the charms of nature, which
every where were so profusely displayed.
The road led through an olive-grove, and here the solitary inn was situated.
Ten or twelve crippled-beggars had encamped outside. The healthiest of them
resembled, to use an expression of Marryat's, "Hunger's eldest son when he had
come of age"; the others were either blind, had withered legs and crept about
on their hands, or withered arms and fingerless hands. It was the most
wretched misery, dragged from among the filthiest rags. "Excellenza,
miserabili!" sighed they, thrusting forth their deformed limbs to view. Even
the hostess, with bare feet, uncombed hair, and dressed in a garment of
doubtful color, received the guests grumblingly. The doors were fastened with
a loop of string; the floor of the rooms presented a stone paving half torn
up; bats fluttered wildly about the ceiling; and as to the smell
therein--no--that was beyond description.
"You had better lay the cloth below in the stable," said one of the
travellers; "there, at all events, one knows what one is breathing."
The windows were quickly opened, to let in a little fresh air. Quicker,
however, than the breeze, the withered, sallow arms of the beggars were thrust
in, accompanied by the eternal whine of "Miserabili, miserabili, excellenza!"
On the walls were displayed innumerable inscriptions, written in nearly every
language of Europe, some in verse, some in prose, most of them not very
laudatory of "bella Italia."
The meal was served. It consisted of a soup of salted water, seasoned with
pepper and rancid oil. The last ingredient played a very prominent part in the
salad; stale eggs and roasted cocks'-combs furnished the grand dish of the
repast; the wine even was not without a disgusting taste--it was like a
medicinal draught.
At night the boxes and other effects of the passengers were placed against the
rickety doors. One of the travellers kept watch while the others slept. The
sentry was our young Divine. How close it was in the chamber! The heat
oppressive to suffocation--the gnats hummed and stung unceasingly--the
"miserabili" without whined and moaned in their sleep.
"Travelling would be agreeable enough," said he groaning, "if one only had no
body, or could send it to rest while the spirit went on its pilgrimage
unhindered, whither the voice within might call it. Wherever I go, I am
pursued by a longing that is insatiable--that I cannot explain to myself, and
that tears my very heart. I want something better than what is but what is
fled in an instant. But what is it, and where is it to be found? Yet, I know
in reality what it is I wish for. Oh! most happy were I, could I but reach one
aim--could but reach the happiest of all!"
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