The Liverpool Standard and General Commercial Advertiser.
Liverpool, Merseyside, England, 1846-11-10 00:00:00

etteraturr.

SKETCHES OF A TIZIP TO THE CONTINENT,
ITALY, AND EGYPT.
EY EDWIN BEET, ESQ.
No. 11.

(Written for the Liverpool Standard.)

On leaving France for Italy, the fire-franc pieces are in
requisition for that nuisance, a passport. The French
authorities must stamp it; also the Papal authorities; so
also the English ; and Mr. Richardson's perquisite of 55.
seemed " the unkindest cut of all." Total charges for
allowing you to leave Marseilles for Rome. 22 francs !
Bat what the English agent has to do with your leaving
France, I cannot comprehend, as both Lord Cowley and
the French Ambassador in London had signed their gra-
cious permission and protection. But this nuisance is
now abated ; ana on my landing from Malta, the agent
at Marseiiles told me that passports for your passage
through the interior had been dispensed with.
Poor Laurence Sterne, having no passport, was sadly
afraid of the Bastile. His chapters on Slavery and the
Starling, who does not recollect ?
But let us not forget the busy port of Marseilles.
Here congregate Jews, Turks, Greeks, Dutch, Spanisi,
and English—almost a Babel of tongues on 'Change, and
almost all the varieties of costume of a fancy ball. The
cafes are haudsome. The port is excellently protected
by mountains to the north and east, and it lies open to
the south principally, which makes it pleasant even in
winter. , The Quarantine—gardens, h eases, and esta-
blishment generally—is very superior to many of ti,ese
infection-guarding prison-houses! There is a no,)le
prospect from the Castle of Notre Dame, without the
walls; and the public gardens, established by Napoleon,
are tasteful, and form a pleasant promenade for the Mar-
seilloiee. Like most seaport towns, Marseilles exhibits
vice in its most coarse and revolting forms, and meretri-
cious creatures sit, like spiders, ever on the watch to
catch and suck the life-blood of giddy flies that pass un-
heeding by the webs of the sorceress.
On my embarkation for Civita Vecchia, on board the
Leopold the Second, one of Lord Chesterfield's beautiful
horses either slipped or was pushed off the crowded little
pier, and such a confusion took place! The horse swam
oqt to sea; boats in pursuit shouting, pulling, rowing,
swearing ; at last the poor beast was nearly strangled by
a stupid attempt to drag him up the side of one of the
vessels lying in the harbour. This circumstance, trivial
as it may appear, caused considerable uneasiness to that
very clever and excellent seaman, Captain Olive, whose
attention to the comfort, welfare, and property of his
passengers cannot be too highly praised. However,
horse, luggage, passengers, and all, at length safely on
board, we began our voyage ; and here it may be observed,
how convenient it is that you may book for Genoa, Leg-
horn, Civita Vecchia. Naples, Sicily or Malta, ad libitum,
and with permission to stop at each place a few days, and
resume your voyage. Even in the mouth of December,
in moderate weather, how delightful a voyage is it,—
passing along the romantic coasts of the islands of Hye-
rus; Elba, where th lion of the desert, Napoleon, broke
his parole, that he alight again bring war, rapine, fire,
and desolation in his train, through all Europe ; his na-
tive isle, Corsica, still a blot in the page of civilisation,
where person, property, and life are so little respected ;
but already, after scanning the various hill and valley
scenery—the numerous villages, each, however small and
insignificant, with one or more spires of churches visible,
—we enter the bay or gulf of Genoa, its fine lofty tower,
on a rock, with a lighthouse, seen for many miles distant.
" Genoa la Superba !" how delightfully interesting thy
ninety palaces, lofty houses, stately females, with their
snow-white floating mantillas fastened with silver orna-
ments to the crown of the head, upon their thick crisped
locks ! Even the poorer countrywomen, with their chintz
pattern floating draperies, ornamented with birds, beasts,
fishes, monsters, fruits, and flowers, look cool, smart,
and clean, and have a novel charm to the English
stranger. I had formed an intimacy on board the
steamer with Dr. B -, a Catholic priest, and a young
Irish gentleman, whose uncle had been shot in Ireland
by some of that misguided, ill-educated, and badly-
remunerated population. We took a carriage, and en-
joyed a delightful drive along the beautiful gardens that
surmount the highest part of the amphitheatre which
half encloses the city. The manufacture of silver filla-
gree work is very beautiful in Genoa. You may see the
girls in the shops, and at the doors, making brooches,
ear-drops, rings, card-cases, &c., which, although made
of pure silver, may be bought at half the price you could
get such in England. The churches and cathedral, of
black and white marble, are highly ornamented. St.
Laurence boasts of possessing the mortal remains of
John the Baptist, said to have been brought from Lvcia.
The Sacristan tells you the emerald vase was brought from
Caesarea, the same as the Queen of Sheba presented to
Solomon, but however insignificant these legends may ap-
pear, the power of the Catholic religion is in full force in
Genoa. While I was examining the paintings in one of
the churches, I heard the military word of command in a
loud voice, and about four hundred soldiers, fully armed
and equipped for marching, entered ; their tramp to time
resounding from the marble pavement through the aisles
up to the fretted roof, above the music of the brilliant
band outside playing to their enbe. After a few minutes
a dead silence ensued ' • suddenly two drums played a
rattling roll from the altar ; down prostrate were all the
soldiers with such a clattering of their muskets on the
pavement, men and arms all alike prostrate ; then the
host was elevated, dulcet strains of music from the solemn
organ softening the soul to the divinest melancholy. An-
other silence, another peel from the drums, the cup is
raised, the benediction pronounced, another clattering of
arms in rising, and the soldiers went forth to kill or be
killed, as chance or fate may decide. "Oh ! what a re-
ligion is this ? how finely does it harmonize with the
weakness of our nature !—how forcibly it works on the
passional—how strangely it seizes on the imagination !
how interesting its forms !—how graceful its ceremonies !
—bow awful its rites !—what a captivating, what a pic-
turesque faith !—who would not become its proselyte
were it not for the stern dictates and opposition of reason,
the cold suggestions of philosophy ?" The outer of the
two walls of Genoa extends about ten miles, and its for-
tifications, with its bastions and 500 pieces of cannon,
render it impregnable. Massena declared, " had it not
been for want of subsistence, (for he and his army were
obliged to eat their horses,) he could have held out for
ever." Genoa has been subject to great vicissitudes, the
feuds between Spinola and Doria, when fierce fighting
for twenty-four days, and battering engines from each
others houses, filled the city with ruin and bloodshed.
In 1336 formidable fleets were fitted out to aid Philippe
of France against Edward 111. of England. The Geno-
ese are more crafty as well as more industrious than most
other Italians, and I think they much resemble those of
Naples. One of their splendid palaces is now turned
into a magnificent hotel. In this many of my fellow pas-
sengers dined and slept, a pleasing change from our little
dormitories on board the steamer, 6 feet by 20 inches,
into one of which it was a ludicrous sight to see a stout
old gentleman thrust himself with great difficulty. All
the old family pictures and portraits still adorn with
gloomy grandeur the lofty palace walls of this hotel, and
threw an air of romance over our brief occupation of the
chambers once occupied by the brave warriors of the re-
public.
From Genoa to Leghorn was a delightful passage :
the same interesting coast, agreeable companions, with
many additional passengers, ladies and gentlemen tra-
vellers, and other carriages, and, by way of contrast, poor
bare footed monks wending their way to the Holy City !
the battered gem of the world, Rome ! to receive the
benediction of the triple crowned pontiff. These poor
devoted pilgrims slept on the deck near the horse boxes
for warmth, without any other covering than their coarse
woollen cowl and hood. Dr. B. and myself persuaded
one of these self-denying, body-mortifying monks, with
great difficulty, to take some of the delicious wine, called
lachynne Christi, their only luxury appeared to be the
constant use of snuff, of which they enjoyed copious in-
halations. At Leghorn you meet with the same noisy
vociferous grasping boatmen you do at Genoa, and as
they know your luggage must be debarked and pass the
Dogana, they take great liberties, and try all sorts of
impositions. One gentleman's luggage was seized by six
sturdy half-clad ruffians, and he administered some very
liberal chastisement ; but this is not always quite safe, as
I am told they carry knives in their sleeves, and shake
them out and use them with great energy and prompti-
tude. At Leghorn there are thirty or forty thousand
Jews. It being a free port, and the laws equal, tolerant,
and mild, the liberty of the subject degenerates into licen-
tiousness. The Livernese of the worst class walk the
streets in their felon dress, the crimes they have commit-
ted painted in large letters upon their backs—omicidia,
adulleria violenta, snalricidio, furto, &c. These fellows
are generally pretty well behaved, but, as at Rome, they
will sometimes laugh, leer, and impudently ask you for a
cigar ; but it is better to see felons scavengers, than men
and women dangling by the neck from the beam, as at
Newgate and Kirkdule.
My two new friends and myself took a carriage to
Pisa—there is now a railway ;—and the leaning tower,
the baptistry, cathedral, and Campo Santo, amply re-
paid us for our visit. When at Florence, I paid two
other visits to Livornia and Pisa ; Smollett, the historian
and novelist, lies buried under a small pyramidal obelisk,
in the beautiful solemn cemetery of Leghorn. It is af-
fecting to see how many of our young and lovely Eng-
lishwomen here repose far away from country, kindred,
and friends; the epitaphs of many of them are affectingly
beautiful: the young wife; the beloved sister; the be-
reaved grieving parents, and their sorrows touch the heart
of the lone wanderer as he gazes round, and listens to the
plaintive breeze, that sighs amidst, but scarcely stirs, the
dark cypresses and drooping willows ! Thoughts arose of
Dr. Yonng, who bore his dying daughters " nearer to the
sun." Alas, how vainly ! To die in a foreign land, and be
denied Catholic " burial." And here, from Florence,
from Pisa, and Sienna, are also the young and beautiful,
resting in peace ; " Early, bright, transient, chaste as
morning dew, they sparkled, were exhaled, and went to
Heaven." Smollett's small, pyramidal monument has
this inscription :
Memorire Tobin; Smollett,
Qui Libuinl,
Anerium effiavit,
16th September, 1773.
Q iidam ea suis valde amicus
Civitus,
Hunc tumellum
Fecerunt."
One affectionate bereaved sister says, "A purer spirit
than hers never inhabited a human form." And amid
many interesting poetical tributes of affection to the de-
plored departed, I selected this as worthy of remembrance :
•1 To her sweet memory, for ever dear;
Let the green turf receive your silent tear;
To this sad place your earliest garlands bring.
And deck her grave with firstlings of the spring.
Let opening roses drooping lilies tell,
Like these she flourished, and like these she fell.
Round her, ye angels, constant vigils keep,
And guard, fair innocence, her sacred sleep.
Till that bright morn shall wake her slumbering clay,
To bloom and sparkle in eternal day."