Travels Through France And Italy by Tobias Smollett (fastest ebook reader .txt) 📕

Retire In The Month Of June, And There Continue Till The

Beginning Of October, When I Would Return To My Habitation In

Nice, Where The Winter Is Remarkably Mild And Agreeable. In March

And April However, I Would Not Advise A Valetudinarian To Go

Forth, Without Taking Precaution Against The Cold. An Agreeable

Summer Retreat May Be Found On The Other Side Of The Var, At, Or

Near The Town Of Grasse, Which Is Pleasantly Situated On The

Ascent Of A Hill In Provence, About Seven English Miles From

Nice. This Place Is Famous For Its Pomatum, Gloves, Wash-Balls,

Perfumes, And Toilette-Boxes, Lined With Bergamot. I Am Told It

Affords Good Lodging, And Is Well Supplied With Provisions.

We Are Now Preparing For Our Journey To England, From The

Exercise Of Which I Promise Myself Much Benefit: A Journey

Extremely Agreeable, Not Only On That Account, But Also Because

It Will Restore Me To The Company Of My Friends, And Remove Me

From A Place Where I Leave Nothing But The Air Which I Can

Possibly Regret.

The Only Friendships I Have Contracted At Nice Are With

Strangers, Who, Like Myself, Only Sojourn Here For A Season. I

Now Find By Experience, It Is Great Folly To Buy Furniture,

Unless One Is Resolved To Settle Here For Some Years. The

Nissards Assured Me, With Great Confidence, That I Should Always

Be Able To Sell It For A Very Little Loss; Whereas I Find Myself

Obliged To Part With It For About One-Third Of What It Cost. I

Have Sent For A Coach To Aix, And As Soon As It Arrives, Shall

Take My Departure; So That The Next Letter You Receive From Me

Will Be Dated At Some Place On The Road. I Purpose To Take

Antibes, Toulon, Marseilles, Aix, Avignon, And Orange, In My Way:

Places Which I Have Not Yet Seen; And Where, Perhaps, I Shall

Find Something For Your Amusement, Which Will Always Be A

Consideration Of Some Weight With,--Dear Sir, Yours.

Turin, March 18, 1765.

Dear Sir,--Turin Is About Thirty Leagues From Nice, The Greater

Part Of The Way Lying Over Frightful Mountains Covered With Snow.

The Difficulty Of The Road, However, Reaches No Farther Than

Coni, From Whence There Is An Open Highway Through A Fine Plain

Country, As Far As The Capital Of Piedmont, And The Traveller Is

Accommodated With Chaise And Horses To Proceed Either Post, Or By

Cambiatura, As In Other Parts Of Italy. There Are Only Two Ways

Of Performing The Journey Over The Mountains From Nice; One Is To

Ride A Mule-Back, And The Other To Be Carried In A Chair. The

Former I Chose, And Set Out With My Servant On The Seventh Day Of

February At Two In The Afternoon. I Was Hardly Clear Of Nice,

When It Began To Rain So Hard That In Less Than An Hour The Mud

Was Half A Foot Deep In Many Parts Of The Road. This Was The Only

Inconvenience We Suffered, The Way Being In Other Respects

Practicable Enough; For There Is But One Small Hill To Cross On

This Side Of The Village Of L'escarene, Where We Arrived About

Six In The Evening. The Ground In This Neighbourhood Is Tolerably

Cultivated, And The Mountains Are Planted To The Tops With Olive

Trees. The Accommodation Here Is So Very Bad, That I Had No

Inclination To Be A-Bed Longer Than Was Absolutely Necessary For

Refreshment; And Therefore I Proceeded On My Journey At Two In

The Morning, Conducted By A Guide, Whom I Hired For This Purpose

At The Rate Of Three Livres A Day. Having Ascended One Side, And

Descended The Other, Of The Mountain Called Braus, Which Took Up

Four Hours, Though The Road Is Not Bad, We At Six Reached The

Village Of Sospello, Which Is Agreeably Situated In A Small

Valley, Surrounded By Prodigious High And Barren Mountains. This

Little Plain Is Pretty Fertile, And Being Watered By A Pleasant

Stream, Forms A Delightful Contrast With The Hideous Rocks That

Surround It. Having Reposed Myself And My Mules Two Hours At This

Place, We Continued Our Journey Over The Second Mountain, Called

Brovis, Which Is Rather More Considerable Than The First, And In

Four Hours Arrived At La Giandola, A Tolerable Inn Situated

Betwixt The High Road And A Small River, About A Gunshot From The

Town Of Brieglie, Which We Leave On The Right. As We Jogged Along

In The Grey Of The Morning, I Was A Little Startled At Two

Figures Which I Saw Before Me, And Began To Put My Pistols In

Order. It Must Be Observed That These Mountains Are Infested With

Contrabandiers, A Set Of Smuggling Peasants, Very Bold And

Desperate, Who Make A Traffic Of Selling Tobacco, Salt, And Other

Merchandize, Which Have Not Payed Duty, And Sometimes Lay

Travellers Under Contribution. I Did Not Doubt But There Was A

Gang Of These Free-Booters At Hand; But As No More Than Two

Persons Appeared, I Resolved To Let Them Know We Were Prepared

For Defence, And Fired One Of My Pistols, In Hope That The Report

Of It, Echoed From The Surrounding Rocks, Would Produce A Proper

Effect: But, The Mountains And Roads Being Entirely Covered With

Snow To A Considerable Depth, There Was Little Or No

Reverberation, And The Sound Was Not Louder Than That Of A Pop-Gun,

Although The Piece Contained A Good Charge Of Powder.

Nevertheless, It Did Not Fail To Engage The Attention Of The

Strangers, One Of Whom Immediately Wheeled To The Left About, And

Being By This Time Very Near Me, Gave Me An Opportunity Of

Contemplating His Whole Person. He Was Very Tall, Meagre, And

Yellow, With A Long Hooked Nose, And Small Twinkling Eyes. His

Head Was Eased In A Woollen Night-Cap, Over Which He Wore A 

Flapped Hat; He Had A Silk Handkerchief About His Neck, And His

Mouth Was Furnished With A Short Wooden Pipe, From Which He

Discharged Wreathing Clouds Of Tobacco-Smoke. He Was Wrapped In A

Kind Of Capot Of Green Bays, Lined With Wolf-Skin, Had A Pair Of

Monstrous Boots, Quilted On The Inside With Cotton, Was Almost

Covered With Dirt, And Rode A Mule So Low That His Long Legs Hung

Dangling Within Six Inches Of The Ground. This Grotesque Figure

Was So Much More Ludicrous Than Terrible, That I Could Not Help

Laughing; When, Taking His Pipe Out Of His Mouth, He Very

Politely Accosted Me By Name. You May Easily Guess I Was

Exceedingly Surprised At Such An Address On The Top Of The

Mountain Brovis: But He Forthwith Put An End To It Too, By

Discovering Himself To Be The Marquis M--, Whom I Had The Honour

To Be Acquainted With At Nice. After Having Rallied Him Upon His

Equipage, He Gave Me To Understand He Had Set Out From Nice The

Morning Of The Same Day That I Departed; That He Was Going To

Turin, And That He Had Sent One Of His Servants Before Him To

Coni With His Baggage. Knowing Him To Be An Agreeable Companion,

I Was Glad Of This Encounter, And We Resolved To Travel The Rest

Of The Way Together. We Dined At La Giandola, And In The

Afternoon Rode Along The Little River Roida, Which Runs In A

Bottom Between Frightful Precipices, And In Several Places Forms

Natural Cascades, The Noise Of Which Had

Well-Nigh Deprived Us Of The Sense Of Hearing; After A Winding

Course Among These Mountains, It Discharges Itself Into The

Mediterranean At Vintimiglia, In The Territory Of Genoa. As The

Snow Did Not Lie On These Mountains, When We Cracked Our Whips,

There Was Such A Repercussion Of The Sound As Is Altogether

Inconceivable. We Passed By The Village Of Saorgio, Situated On

An Eminence, Where There Is A Small Fortress Which Commands The

Whole Pass, And In Five Hours Arrived At Our Inn, On This Side

The Col De Tende, Where We Took Up Our Quarters, But Had Very

Little Reason To Boast Of Our Entertainment. Our Greatest

Difficulty, However, Consisted In Pulling Off The Marquis's

Boots, Which Were Of The Kind Called Seafarot, By This Time So

Loaded With Dirt On The Outside, And So Swelled With The Rain

Within, That He Could Neither Drag Them After Him As He Walked,

Nor Disencumber His Legs Of Them, Without Such Violence As Seemed

Almost Sufficient To Tear Him Limb From Limb. In A Word, We Were

Obliged To Tie A Rope About His Heel, And All The People In The

House Assisting To Pull, The Poor Marquis Was Drawn From One End

Of The Apartment To The Other Before The Boot Would Give Way: At

Last His Legs Were Happily Disengaged, And The Machines Carefully

Dried And Stuffed For Next Day's Journey.

We Took Our Departure From Hence At Three In The Morning, And At

Four, Began To Mount The Col De Tende, Which Is By Far The

Highest Mountain In The Whole Journey: It Was Now Quite Covered

With Snow, Which At The Top Of It Was Near Twenty Feet Thick.

Half Way Up, There Are Quarters For A Detachment Of Soldiers,

Posted Here To Prevent Smuggling, And An Inn Called La Ca, Which

In The Language Of The Country Signifies The House. At This 

Place, We Hired Six Men To Assist Us In Ascending The Mountain,

Each Of Them Provided With A Kind Of Hough To Break The Ice, And

Make A Sort Of Steps For The Mules. When We Were Near The Top,

However, We Were Obliged To Alight, And Climb The Mountain

Supported Each By Two Of Those Men, Called Coulants Who Walk Upon

The Snow With Great Firmness And Security. We Were Followed By

The Mules, And Though They Are Very Sure-Footed Animals, And Were

Frost-Shod For The Occasion, They Stumbled And Fell Very Often;

The Ice Being So Hard That The Sharp-Headed Nails In Their Shoes

Could Not Penetrate. Having Reached The Top Of This Mountain,

From Whence There Is No Prospect But Of Other Rocks And

Mountains, We Prepared For Descending On The Other Side By The

Leze, Which Is