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

To

This Circumstance Martial Alludes In The Following Lines

 

 

 

Antipolitani, Fateor, Sum Filia Thynni.

Essem Si Scombri Non Tibi Missa Forem.

 

 

 

I'm Spawned From Tunny Of Antibes, 'Tis True.

Right Scomber Had I Been, I Ne'er Had Come To You.

 

 

 

The Famous Pickle Garum Was Made From The Thynnus Or Tunny As

Well As From The Scomber, But That From The Scomber Was Counted

The Most Delicate. Commentators, However, Are Not Agreed About

The Scomber Or Scombrus. Some Suppose It Was The Herring Or

Sprat; Others Believe It Was The Mackarel; After All, Perhaps It

Was The Anchovy, Which I Do Not Find Distinguished By Any Other

Latin Name: For The Encrasicolus Is A Greek Appellation

Altogether Generical. Those Who Would Be Further Informed About

The Garum And The Scomber May Consult Caelius Apicius De

Recogninaria, Cum Notis, Variorum.

 

 

 

At Present, Antibes Is The Frontier Of France Towards Italy,

Pretty Strongly Fortified, And Garrisoned By A Battalion Of

Soldiers. The Town Is Small And Inconsiderable: But The Basin Of

The Harbour Is Surrounded To Seaward By A Curious Bulwark Founded

Upon Piles Driven In The Water, Consisting Of A Wall, Ramparts,

Casemates, And Quay. Vessels Lie Very Safe In This Harbour; But

There Is Not Water At The Entrance Of It To Admit Of Ships Of Any

Burthen. The Shallows Run So Far Off From The Coast, That A Ship 

Part 7 Letter 38 ( Aix En Provence, May 10, 1765.) Pg 298

Of Force Cannot Lie Near Enough To Batter The Town; But It Was

Bombarded In The Late War. Its Chief Strength By Land Consists In

A Small Quadrangular Fort Detached From The Body Of The Place,

Which, In A Particular Manner, Commands The Entrance Of The

Harbour. The Wall Of The Town Built In The Sea Has Embrasures And

Salient Angles, On Which A Great Number Of Cannon May Be Mounted.

 

 

 

I Think The Adjacent Country Is Much More Pleasant Than That On

The Side Of Nice; And There Is Certainly No Essential Difference

In The Climate. The Ground Here Is Not So Encumbered; It Is Laid

Out In Agreeable Inclosures, With Intervals Of Open Fields, And

The Mountains Rise With An Easy Ascent At A Much Greater Distance

From The Sea, Than On The Other Side Of The Bay. Besides, Here

Are Charming Rides Along The Beach, Which Is Smooth And Firm.

When We Passed In The Last Week Of April, The Corn Was In The

Ear; The Cherries Were Almost Ripe; And The Figs Had Begun To

Blacken. I Had Embarked My Heavy Baggage On Board A London Ship,

Which Happened To Be At Nice, Ready To Sail: As For Our Small

Trunks Or Portmanteaus, Which We Carried Along With Us, They Were

Examined At Antibes; But The Ceremony Was Performed Very

Superficially, In Consequence Of Tipping The Searcher With Half-A-Crown,

Which Is A Wonderful Conciliator At All The Bureaus In

This Country.

 

 

 

We Lay At Cannes, A Neat Village, Charmingly Situated On The

Beach Of The Mediterranean, Exactly Opposite To The Isles

Marguerites, Where State-Prisoners Are Confined. As There Are

Some Good Houses In This Place, I Would Rather Live Here For The

Sake Of The Mild Climate, Than Either At Antibes Or Nice. Here

You Are Not Cooped Up Within Walls, Nor Crowded With Soldiers And

People: But Are Already In The Country, Enjoy A Fine Air, And Are

Well Supplied With All Sorts Of Fish.

 

 

 

The Mountains Of Esterelles, Which In One Of My Former Letters I

Described As A Most Romantic And Noble Plantation Of Ever-Greens,

Trees, Shrubs, And Aromatic Plants, Is At Present Quite Desolate.

Last Summer, Some Execrable Villains Set Fire To The Pines, When

The Wind Was High. It Continued Burning For Several Months, And

The Conflagration Extended Above Ten Leagues, Consuming An

Incredible Quantity Of Timber. The Ground Is Now Naked On Each

Side Of The Road, Or Occupied By The Black Trunks Of The Trees,

Which Have Been Scorched Without Falling. They Stand As So Many

Monuments Of The Judgment Of Heaven, Filling The Mind With Horror

And Compassion. I Could Hardly Refrain From Shedding Tears At

This Dismal Spectacle, When I Recalled The Idea Of What It Was

About Eighteen Months Ago.

 

 

Part 7 Letter 38 ( Aix En Provence, May 10, 1765.) Pg 299

 

As We Stayed All Night At Frejus, I Had An Opportunity Of Viewing

The Amphitheatre At Leisure. As Near As I Can Judge By The Eye,

It Is Of The Same Dimensions With That Of Nismes; But Shockingly

Dilapidated. The Stone Seats Rising From The Arena Are Still

Extant, And The Cells Under Them, Where The Wild Beasts Were

Kept. There Are Likewise The Remains Of Two Galleries One Over

Another; And Two Vomitoria Or Great Gateways At Opposite Sides Of

The Arena, Which Is Now A Fine Green, With A Road Through The

Middle Of It: But All The External Architecture And The Ornaments

Are Demolished. The Most Intire Part Of The Wall Now Constitutes

Part Of A Monastery, The Monks Of Which, I Am Told, Have Helped

To Destroy The Amphitheatre, By Removing The Stones For Their Own

Purposes Of Building. In The Neighbourhood Of This Amphitheatre,

Which Stands Without The Walls, Are The Vestiges Of An Old

Edifice, Said To Have Been The Palace Where The Imperator Or

President Resided: For It Was A Roman Colony, Much Favoured By

Julius Caesar, Who Gave It The Name Of Forum Julii, And Civitas

Forojuliensis. In All Probability, It Was He Who Built The

Amphitheatre, And Brought Hither The Water Ten Leagues From The

River Of Ciagne, By Means Of An Aqueduct, Some Arcades Of Which

Are Still Standing On The Other Side Of The Town. A Great Number

Of Statues Were Found In This Place, Together With Antient

Inscriptions, Which Have Been Published By Different Authors. I

Need Not Tell You That Julius Agricola, The Father-In-Law Of

Tacitus, The Historian, Was A Native Of Frejus, Which Is Now A

Very Poor Inconsiderable Place. From Hence The Country Opens To

The Left, Forming An Extensive Plain Between The Sea And The

Mountains, Which Are A Continuation Of The Alps, That Stretches

Through Provence And Dauphine. This Plain Watered With Pleasant

Streams, And Varied With Vineyards, Corn-Fields, And Meadow-Ground,

Afforded A Most Agreeable Prospect To Our Eyes, Which

Were Accustomed To The Sight Of Scorching Sands, Rugged Rocks,

And Abrupt Mountains In The Neighbourhood Of Nice. Although This

Has Much The Appearance Of A Corn-Country, I Am Told It Does Not

Produce Enough For The Consumption Of Its Inhabitants, Who Are

Obliged To Have Annual Supplies From Abroad, Imported At

Marseilles. A Frenchman, At An Average, Eats Three Times The

Quantity Of Bread That Satisfies A Native Of England, And Indeed

It Is Undoubtedly The Staff Of His Life. I Am Therefore Surprised

That The Provencaux Do Not Convert Part Of Their Vineyards Into

Corn-Fields: For They May Boast Of Their Wine As They Please; But

That Which Is Drank By The Common People, Not Only Here, But Also

In All The Wine Countries Of France, Is Neither So Strong,

Nourishing, Nor (In My Opinion) So Pleasant To The Taste As The

Small-Beer Of England. It Must Be Owned That All The Peasants Who

Have Wine For Their Ordinary Drink Are Of A Diminutive Size, In

Comparison Of Those Who Use Milk, Beer, Or Even Water; And It Is

A Constant Observation, That When There Is A Scarcity Of Wine,

The Common People Are Always More Healthy, Than In Those Seasons

When It Abounds. The Longer I Live, The More I Am Convinced That

Wine, And All Fermented Liquors, Are Pernicious To The Human

Constitution; And That For The Preservation Of Health, And

Exhilaration Of The Spirits, There Is No Beverage Comparable To 

Part 7 Letter 38 ( Aix En Provence, May 10, 1765.) Pg 300

Simple Water. Between Luc And Toulon, The Country Is Delightfully

Parcelled Out Into Inclosures. Here Is Plenty Of Rich Pasturage

For Black Cattle, And A Greater Number Of Pure Streams And

Rivulets Than I Have Observed In Any Other Parts Of France.

 

 

 

Toulon Is A Considerable Place, Even Exclusive Of The Basin,

Docks, And Arsenal, Which Indeed Are Such As Justify The Remark

Made By A Stranger When He Viewed Them. "The King Of France (Said

He) Is Greater At Toulon Than At Versailles." The Quay, The

Jetties, The Docks, And Magazines, Are Contrived And Executed

With Precision, Order, Solidity, And Magnificence. I Counted

Fourteen Ships Of The Line Lying Unrigged In The Basin, Besides

The Tonant Of Eighty Guns, Which Was In Dock Repairing, And A New

Frigate On The Stocks. I Was Credibly Informed That In The Last

War, The King Of France Was So Ill-Served With Cannon For His

Navy, That In Every Action There Was Scarce A Ship Which Had Not

Several Pieces Burst. These Accidents Did Great Damage, And

Discouraged The French Mariners To Such A Degree, That They

Became More Afraid Of Their Own Guns Than Of Those Of The

English. There Are Now At Toulon Above Two Thousand Pieces Of

Iron Cannon Unfit For Service. This Is An Undeniable Proof Of The

Weakness And Neglect Of The French Administration: But A More

Suprizing Proof Of Their Imbecility, Is The State Of The

Fortifications That Defend The Entrance Of This Very Harbour. I

Have Some Reason To Think That They Trusted For Its Security

Entirely To Our Opinion That It Must Be Inaccessible. Capt. E--,

Of One Of Our Frigates, Lately Entered The Harbour With A

Contrary Wind, Which By Obliging Him To Tack, Afforded An

Opportunity Of Sounding The Whole Breadth And Length Of The

Passage. He Came In Without A Pilot, And Made A Pretence Of

Buying Cordage, Or Some Other Stores; But The French Officers

Were Much Chagrined At The Boldness Of His Enterprize. They

Alleged That He Came For No Other Reason But To Sound The

Channel; And That He Had An Engineer Aboard, Who Made Drawings Of

The Land And The Forts, Their Bearings And Distances. In All

Probability, These Suspicions Were Communicated To The Ministry;

For An Order Immediately Arrived, That No Stranger Should Be

Admitted Into The Docks And Arsenal.

 

 

 

Part Of The Road From Hence To Marseilles Lies Through A Vast

Mountain, Which Resembles That Of Estrelles; But Is Not So Well

Covered With Wood, Though It Has The Advantage Of An Agreeable

Stream Running Through The Bottom.

 

 

 

I Was Much Pleased With Marseilles, Which Is Indeed A Noble City,

Large, Populous, And Flourishing. The Streets Of What Is Called

The New Town Are Open, Airy And Spacious; The Houses Well Built,

And Even Magnificent. The Harbour Is An Oval