Travels Through France And Italy by Tobias Smollett (beautiful books to read .txt) 📖

 

As We Had A Very High Mountain To Ascend In The Morning, I

Ordered The Mules On Before To The Next Post, And Hired Six

Horses For The Coach. At The East End Of Frejus, We Saw Close To

The Road On Our Left-Hand, The Arcades Of The Antient Aqueduct,

And The Ruins Of Some Roman Edifices, Which Seemed To Have Been

Temples. There Was Nothing Striking In The Architecture Of The

Aqueduct. The Arches Are Small And Low, Without Either Grace Or

Ornament, And Seem To Have Been Calculated For Mere Utility.

 

 

 

The Mountain Of Esterelles, Which Is Eight Miles Over, Was

Formerly Frequented By A Gang Of Desperate Banditti, Who Are Now

Happily Exterminated: The Road Is Very Good, But In Some Places

Very Steep And Bordered By Precipices. The Mountain Is Covered

With Pines, And The Laurus Cerasus, The Fruit Of Which Being Now

Ripe, Made A Most Romantic Appearance Through The Snow That Lay

Upon The Branches. The Cherries Were So Large That I At First

Mistook Them For Dwarf Oranges. I Think They Are Counted

Poisonous In England, But Here The People Eat Them Without

Hesitation. In The Middle Of The Mountain Is The Post-House,

Where We Dined In A Room So Cold, That The Bare Remembrance Of It

Makes My Teeth Chatter. After Dinner I Chanced To Look Into

Another Chamber That Fronted The South, Where The Sun Shone; And

Opening A Window Perceived, Within A Yard Of My Hand, A Large

Tree Loaded With Oranges, Many Of Which Were Ripe. You May Judge

What My Astonishment Was To Find Winter In All His Rigour

Reigning On One Side Of The House, And Summer In All Her Glory

On The Other. Certain It Is, The Middle Of This Mountain Seemed

To Be The Boundary Of The Cold Weather. As We Proceeded Slowly In

The Afternoon We Were Quite Enchanted. This Side Of The Hill Is A

Natural Plantation Of The Most Agreeable Ever-Greens, Pines,

Firs, Laurel, Cypress, Sweet Myrtle, Tamarisc, Box, And Juniper,

Interspersed With Sweet Marjoram, Lavender, Thyme, Wild Thyme,

And Sage. On The Right-Hand The Ground Shoots Up Into Agreeable

Cones, Between Which You Have Delightful Vistas Of The

Mediterranean, Which Washes The Foot Of The Rock; And Between Two

Divisions Of The Mountains, There Is A Bottom Watered By A

Charming Stream, Which Greatly Adds To The Rural Beauties Of The

Scene.

 

 

 

This Night We Passed At Cannes, A Little Fishing Town, Agreeably

Situated On The Beach Of The Sea, And In The Same Place Lodged

Monsieur Nadeau D'etrueil, The

Unfortunate French Governor Of Guadeloupe, Condemned To Be

Imprisoned For Life In One Of The Isles Marguerite, Which Lie

Within A Mile Of This Coast.

 

 

 

Next Day We Journeyed By The Way Of Antibes, A Small Maritime 

Part 7 Letter 12 ( Nice, December 6, 1763.) Pg 132

Town, Tolerably Well Fortified; And Passing The Little River

Loup, Over A Stone-Bridge, Arrived About Noon At The Village Of

St. Laurent, The Extremity Of France, Where We Passed The Var,

After Our Baggage Had Undergone Examination. From Cannes To This

Village The Road Lies Along The Sea-Side; And Sure Nothing Can Be

More Delightful. Though In The Morning There Was A Frost Upon The

Ground, The Sun Was As Warm As It Is In May In England. The Sea

Was Quite Smooth, And The Beach Formed Of White Polished Pebbles;

On The Left-Hand The Country Was Covered With Green Olives, And

The Side Of The Road Planted With Large Trees Of Sweet Myrtle

Growing Wild Like The Hawthorns In England. From Antibes We Had

The First View Of Nice, Lying On The Opposite Side Of The Bay,

And Making A Very Agreeable Appearance. The Author Of The Grand

Tour Says, That From Antibes To Nice The Roads Are Very Bad,

Through Rugged Mountains Bordered With Precipices On The Left,

And By The Sea To The Right; Whereas, In Fact, There Is Neither

Precipice Nor Mountain Near It.

 

 

 

The Var, Which Divides The County Of Nice From Provence, Is No

Other Than A Torrent Fed Chiefly By The Snow That Melts On The

Maritime Alps, From Which It Takes Its Origin. In The Summer It

Is Swelled To A Dangerous Height, And This Is Also The Case After

Heavy Rains: But At Present The Middle Of It Is Quite Dry, And

The Water Divided Into Two Or Three Narrow Streams, Which,

However, Are Both Deep And Rapid. This River Has Been Absurdly

Enough By Some Supposed The Rubicon, In All Probability From The

Description Of That River In The Pharsalia Of Lucan, Who Makes It

The Boundary Betwixt Gaul And Italy--

 

 

 

                       --Et Gallica Certus

Limes Ab Ausoniis Disterminat Arva Colonis.

 

 

 

A Sure Frontier That Parts The Gallic Plains

From The Rich Meadows Of Th' Ansonian Swains.

 

 

 

Whereas, In Fact, The Rubicon, Now Called Pisatello, Runs Between

Ravenna And Rimini.--But To Return To The Var. At The Village Of

St. Laurent, Famous For Its Muscadine Wines, There Is A Set Of

Guides Always In Attendance To Conduct You In Your Passage Over

The River. Six Of Those Fellows, Tucked Up Above The Middle, With

Long Poles In Their Hands, Took Charge Of Our Coach, And By Many

Windings Guided It Safe To The Opposite Shore. Indeed There Was

No Occasion For Any; But It Is A Sort Of A Perquisite, And I Did

Not Choose To Run Any Risque, How Small Soever It Might Be, For

The Sake Of Saving Half A Crown, With Which They Were Satisfied.

If You Do Not Gratify The Searchers At St. Laurent With The Same 

Part 7 Letter 12 ( Nice, December 6, 1763.) Pg 133

Sum, They Will Rummage Your Trunks, And Turn All Your Cloaths

Topsy Turvy. And Here, Once For All, I Would Advise Every

Traveller Who Consults His Own Case And Convenience, To Be

Liberal Of His Money To All That Sort Of People; And Even To Wink

At The Imposition Of Aubergistes On The Road, Unless It Be Very

Flagrant. So Sure As You Enter Into Disputes With Them, You Will

Be Put To A Great Deal Of Trouble, And Fret Yourself To No Manner

Of Purpose. I Have Travelled With Oeconomists In England, Who

Declared They Would Rather Give Away A Crown Than Allow

Themselves To Be Cheated Of A Farthing. This Is A Good Maxim, But

Requires A Great Share Of Resolution And Self-Denial To Put It In

Practice. In One Excursion Of About Two Hundred Miles My Fellow-Traveller

Was In A Passion, And Of Consequence Very Bad Company

From One End Of The Journey To The Other. He Was Incessantly

Scolding Either At Landlords, Landladies, Waiters, Hostlers, Or

Postilions. We Had Bad Horses, And Bad Chaises; Set Out From

Every Stage With The Curses Of The People; And At This Expence I

Saved About Ten Shillings In The Whole Journey. For Such A Paltry

Consideration, He Was Contented To Be Miserable Himself, And To

Make Every Other Person Unhappy With Whom He Had Any Concern.

When I Came Last From Bath It Rained So Hard, That The Postilion

Who Drove The Chaise Was Wet To The Skin Before We Had Gone A

Couple Of Miles. When We Arrived At The Devises, I Gave Him Two

Shillings Instead Of One, Out Of Pure Compassion. The Consequence

Of This Liberality Was, That In The Next Stage We Seemed Rather

To Fly Than To Travel Upon Solid Ground. I Continued My Bounty To

The Second Driver, And Indeed Through The Whole Journey, And

Found Myself Accommodated In A Very Different Manner From What I

Had Experienced Before. I Had Elegant Chaises, With Excellent

Horses; And The Postilions Of Their Own Accord Used Such

Diligence, That Although The Roads Were Broken By The Rain, I

Travelled At The Rate Of Twelve Miles An Hour; And My

Extraordinary Expence From Bath To London, Amounted Precisely To

Six Shillings.

 

 

 

The River Var Falls Into The Mediterranean A Little Below St.

Laurent, About Four Miles To The Westward Of Nice. Within The

Memory Of Persons Now Living, There Have Been Three Wooden

Bridges Thrown Over It, And As Often Destroyed In Consequence Of

The Jealousy Subsisting Between The Kings Of France And Sardinia;

This River Being The Boundary Of Their Dominions On The Side Of

Provence. However, This Is A Consideration That Ought Not To

Interfere With The Other Advantages That Would Accrue To Both

Kingdoms From Such A Convenience. If There Was A Bridge Over The

Var, And A Post-Road Made From Nice To Genoa, I Am Very Confident

That All Those Strangers Who Now Pass The Alps In Their Way To

And From Italy, Would Choose This Road As Infinitely More Safe,

Commodious, And Agreeable. This Would Also Be The Case With All

Those Who Hire Felucas From Marseilles Or Antibes, And Expose

Themselves To The Dangers And Inconveniences Of Travelling By Sea

In An Open Boat.

 

Part 7 Letter 12 ( Nice, December 6, 1763.) Pg 134

 

 

In The Afternoon We Arrived At Nice, Where We Found Mr. M--E, The

English Gentleman Whom I Had Seen At Boulogne, And Advised To

Come Hither. He Had Followed My Advice, And Reached Nice About A

Month Before My Arrival, With His Lady, Child, And An Old

Gouvernante. He Had Travelled With His Own Post-Chaise And

Horses, And Is Now Lodged Just Without One Of The Gates Of The

City, In The House Of The Count De V--N, For Which He Pays Five

Loui'dores A Month. I Could Hire One Much Better In The

Neighbourhood Of London, For The Same Money. Unless You Will

Submit To This Extortion, And Hire A Whole House For A Length Of

Time, You Will Find No Ready-Furnished Lodgings At Nice. After

Having Stewed A Week In A Paltry Inn, I Have Taken A Ground Floor

For Ten Months At The Rate Of Four Hundred Livres A Year, That Is

Twenty Pounds Sterling, For The Piedmontese Livre Is About An

English Shilling. The Apartments Are Large, Lofty, And Commodious

Enough, With Two Small Gardens, In Which There Is Plenty Of

Sallad, And A Great Number Of Oranges And Lemons: But As It

Required Some Time To Provide Furniture, Our Consul Mr. B--D, One

Of The Best Natured And Most Friendly Men In The World, Has Lent

Me His Lodgings, Which Are Charmingly Situated By The Sea-Side,

And Open Upon A Terrace, That Runs Parallel To The Beach, Forming

Part Of The Town Wall. Mr. B--D Himself Lives At Villa Franca,

Which Is Divided