Pilgrimage from the Alps to the Tiber : $b or, The influence of Romanism on trade, justice, and knowledgeWylie, J. A. (James Aitken)
History
Pilgrimage from the Alps to the Tiber : $b or, The influence of Romanism on trade, justice, and knowledge
Wylie, J. A. (James Aitken)
Catholic Church -- Italy; Italy -- Description and travel
We resumed our journey, and in about an hour's ride we gained the
central chain of the Apennines. Happily the tempest had moderated
somewhat; for this, lying midway between the two seas, is ordinarily the
stormiest point of the pass. We crossed it, however, with less
inconvenience than we had looked for. The summits, which had hitherto
been conical, with vines straggling up their sides, now became rounded,
or ran off in serrated lines, with sides scarred with tempests and
strewn with stones. The scenery was bleak and desolate, as that of the
Grampian pass leading by Spittal of Glenshee to Dee-side. But as we
continued our descent, the richly wooded glens returned; the clouds
rose; and at one time I ventured to hope that I should yet have my first
sight of Florence under a golden sky, and that Milton's description
might, after all, be applicable to this day of storms:--
"As when from mountain-tops the dusky clouds
Ascending, while the north wind sleeps, o'erspread
Heaven's cheerful face, the low'ring element
Scowls o'er the darken'd landskip snow or shower;
If chance the radiant sun, with farewell sweet,
Extend his evening beam, the fields revive,
The birds their notes renew, and bleating herds
Attest their joy, that hill and valley rings."
But the hope was short-lived: no Florence was I to see that night; nor
was note of bird to gladden the dells. The mists again fell, and hid in
premature night those fine valleys, so famous in Florentine history,
which we were now approaching. We wound round hills, traversed deep
ravines, heard on every side the thunder of the swollen torrents, and,
when the parting vapour permitted, had glimpses of the luxuriant woods
of myrtle and laurel that clothe these valleys,--
"Where round some mouldering tower pale ivy creeps,
And low-brow'd rocks hang nodding o'er the deeps."
At last we found ourselves on the banks of a broad and swollen
river,--the Save,--with no means of transit save a dismantled bridge,
so sorely shattered by the flood, that it was an even question whether
our vehicle might not, like the last straw on the dromedary's back, sink
the structure outright.
We dismounted, and, by the help of lights, measured first the bridge,
and next the _diligence_, and found that the breadth of the former
exceeded that of the latter by just two inches. The passengers passed on
foot; the _diligence_, with the baggage, came after; and so all arrived
safely on the other side. Our first care was to assemble a council of
war in the poor inn which stood on the spot, and deliberate what next to
do.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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