said one of the old wood-fishermen to me. “It is not here as it is in France, where every body can get about as much as he needs for himself and his family. In Piedmont there are some very rich, and many very poor!”
“I must hear more about that before I believe you, my little old man!” thought I.
I have now obtained a better room, in the great world's hotel, with a free view over the lake, and I shall not depart hence until I have seen it and its islands, in full sunshine.
Monday Evening, September 14th.—I have now done so! Yesterday was a most lovely day; the calm lake reflected the bright blue heaven.
At nine o'clock in the morning the steamboat from Lucmagno conveyed me to Isola Bella.
The Borromean palace and its gardens occupy nearly the whole of the little island, upon which they are raised high above the lake on the terraces. It is a kind of fairy-palace, where art has done every thing and has even constrained nature. Every thing is symmetrical, even in the gardens; trees, flowers, statues, every thing stands in state. There are many magnificent, large rooms in the palace, and pictures which I believe are valuable, but of these, it was not possible to form any just idea, from the haste with which strangers are hurried through. Magnificent furniture, mosaic tables, and a number of curiosities abound. I observed amongst these curiosities, a marble bust of Carlo Borromeo, with the inscription Humilitas, above which hovered a golden crown.
The lower story of the palace, which almost entirely
