Rambles in Germany and Italy in 1840, 1842, and 1843/Part 3/Letter 17
LETTER XVII.
Voyage to Rome.
I left England, as you know, with very vague ideas of whither I should go. I did not dare entertain a hope that I should visit Rome. But,
“Thought by thought, and step by step led on,”
We have reached what Dr. Johnson says is the aim of every man’s desire.
My companions dreaded a long veturino journey, whose leisure is a false lure, since you always arrive too late, and set out too early, to see anything in the towns where you stop. I consented to go by sea, and Heaven rewarded the act of self-sacrifice.
We left Florence at twelve at might, in one of the most uncomfortable veturino carriages I ever had the ill fortune to enter. The moon was near its full, and its bright snow-like glare almost blinded my friends, who rode outside, and prevented them from sleeping. The morning dawned golden and still; and, although it was March, we anticipated a calm voyage. So it proved. We embarked on board the “Castor,” a small, but well-built and quick steamer, and dropped down towards Elba. The view from the sea near Leghorn is not sufficiently praised. The Ligurian Alps
“Towards the North appeared,
Thro’ mist, a heaven: sustaining bulwark, reared
Between the east and west.”
The sun went down beneath the sea, and the full moon rose at the same moment from behind the promontory of Piombino—hazy at first,—but as she rose higher, assuming her place as radiant Queen of Night. We passed between the island of Elba, whose dark and distinct outline rose out of the calm water, and the shadowy form of distant Corsica; as we proceeded, other and other islands appeared studding the tranquil deep, and varying its sublime monotony. It was very difficult to consent to shut one’s eyes on so very fair a scene.
At sunrise we were on deck again, and the steamer, with that sort of pride which a boat always seems to exhibit when it reaches its bourne, entered the harbour of Civita Vecchia. We were detained for pratique till eight o’clock, when the Governor got up, and for three hours we had full leisure to contemplate the growth of the morning on the sea, and to feel tired of conjectures about the towers and buildings on shore. As soon as we landed, and had breakfasted, and were refreshed, we set off in a separate diligence for the Eternal City.
The road for some miles bordered the sea. The shore is varied by little bays, inlets, and promontories—every five miles is a watch-tower,—the Maremma is spread around, deadly in its influence on man, but in appearance, a wild, verdant, varied pasture land, with here and there a grove of trees, and broken into hill and dale: the waves sparkled on our right; the land stretched out pleasant to the eye on the left; mountains showed themselves on the horizon. No one can look on this country as merely so much earth—every clod is a sacred relic—every stone is an object of curiosity—every name we hear satisfies some desire or awakens some cherished association. And thus, in a sort of trance of delight, we were whirled along, till the old walls appeared. We entered by the Janiculum, and skirted the Place of St. Peter’s; then the pleasant spell was snapped, as we had to turn our thoughts to custom-houses, hotels, and all the worry of arrival.
Evening advanced; but what ailed the Romans? they were all looking up at the sky—it was an epidemic—in crowds or singly, not an eye looked straightforward; all were looking at the heavens;—at a turn in the street we looked too, and saw in the south a long trail of glowing light; we were the more surprised, as we had perceived nothing of the sort the previous night at sea. It was a comet, of course;—does it shine in your more northern hemisphere? here, it loses itself among the stars of Orion, while the nucleus is below the visible horizon;—it is bright, yet the stars shine through its web-like texture, which, composed of thin beams, is stretched out, and you may see delicate sea-weeds—or aquatic plants in a stream, through a large space of the heavens.