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CHAPTER II.

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Travels in Switzerland, Italy, Greece, Asia Minor, Constantinople, and Egypt—Return to England—Death of Mr. Rennie.

I had now received a tolerably good education, both theoretical and practical, as a civil engineer; but before entering fully into practice on my own account, my father thought it advisable that I should travel for a time to study what had been done in ancient and modern times both in architecture and engineering. I accordingly left England on the 7th of June, 1819, in company with my cousin, Colonel, now General, Sir J. Aitchison, and the late Lord Hotham, his friend. We had a thirty-three hours’ passage from Brighton to Dieppe, during which time, having exhausted the captain’s store of bread and cheese, not very abundant, we were glad to fall back on a dozen mackerel, which Lord Hotham’s servant was fortunate enough to catch. We passed through France without much incident; but when the view from the summit of the Jura suddenly burst upon us, the magnificent scene made a most lasting impression upon my memory. The valley of the Rhone, the Lake of Geneva, backed by Mont Blanc and its splendid range of mountains, rose before us as if by magic; we were totally unprepared for it, could scarcely believe our senses, and stood enraptured for nearly half an hour. We then descended to Geneva, where we passed several days very agreeably, examining what was then the picturesque old town, with its clumsy, old-fashioned waterworks; for the improvement of these my father, through the well-known Dr. Marcet, had just made a design for the municipality, which was much approved of, and which I understand has since been partially carried into effect. I here made the acquaintance of General Dufour, so well known for his scientific acquirements, and after a few days went on an expedition to Chamounix, where, as no one then thought of ascending Mont Blanc, we climbed the Montanvert and the Mer de Glace, where I made some experiments with Leslie’s hygrometer. Having returned to Geneva, we started again on the 7th July for a more extended tour in the mountains, going by the lakes of Morat and Bienne, the scene of the great battle of 1476. I examined these two lakes, which were evidently rapidly filling up, but by lowering the outfalls a great part of the whole might be recovered, whereas at present the borders are to a great extent covered with reeds, and the marshes exhale unwholesome effluvia. After passing through Freibourg, where the bridge, then newly opened, was considered one of the wonders of Switzerland, and which, as a most remarkable work of its kind, I examined attentively, we passed on to Berne, and going through the mountains, returned to Geneva. On our way, being at Meyringen, and short of ready cash, we proposed either to return direct to Geneva, or to change one of Herries’ circular notes; but on offering one of these notes to the landlord, he at once said there was no occasion for it, as we were Englishmen, and that was enough. Having produced a large bag of five-franc pieces, he told us to help ourselves, and was with difficulty persuaded to take one of Herries’ notes in exchange. I merely mention this to show how high the name of Englishmen then stood on the Continent.

Leaving Geneva for Italy, we proceeded by the route of the Simplon, the construction of which I had promised to observe very attentively for my father. The first portion only presents, as objects of interest, the excavations through the rock of St. Gingough, near the upper end of the lake. From Martigny we started up the valley of the Rhone, where, though the ground is generally level, the road yet encounters considerable difficulties from the river, which here assumes the character of a torrent, and when swollen by floods sweeps almost everything before it; wandering from side to side it deposits the débris of the one side on the banks of the other, forming, we may say, alternately rapids and almost still pools, which renders it extremely difficult to confine its course within any reasonable limits; so that the art of the engineer is taxed to the uttermost. I thought that in many places the works were not designed with that solidity which is so necessary under such circumstances, and that sufficient precautions were not taken to arrest the progress of the débris. I considered that by providing depositories for it at certain favourable stations, the violence of the floods might have been considerably controlled, a much greater extent of land on both sides of the river rendered available for cultivation, and the extensive marshes, which, operated upon by a powerful sun, now produce most injurious exhalations, might have been deprived of their baneful influence.

Having passed Sion, we left Brieg early on the 10th of August, and as soon as we began the ascent I descended from the carriage, and with line and rule I measured every bridge until we reached Boveno, on the Lake Maggiore. I sent off from Milan, as I had promised, a detailed account of this celebrated road to my father, giving a drawing and account of every work, which I afterwards had the gratification of knowing afforded him great pleasure. The whole Pass must have at first sight been appalling to the engineers who traced the line of road; and although many other works of the kind of greater magnitude have been since executed, nevertheless, all things considered, it is worthy the approbation of mankind, and does great credit both to those who designed and those who executed it.

We reached Milan[1] on the 12th of August, and I was much struck with the fine canal which unites it with Pavia, and which can only be compared with the canals of Belgium. It has been said that the first pound lock was invented and executed by the famous Leonardi da Vinci, but subsequent inquiries have induced me to believe that our own country is entitled to the honour in the Exeter ship canal. I was also greatly pleased with the system of irrigation employed generally throughout Lombardy. This system was originally introduced by the Italians themselves, and during the Austrian rule was carried to the greatest perfection, Lombardy being by nature peculiarly well adapted to it. The vast and fertile valley of the Po is for the most part destitute of rain during the summer, when it is most wanted; but it fortunately happens that at this season water is most abundant from the melting of the snows on the Alps, which descend into the adjacent lakes and rivers, and would be otherwise wasted and thrown away if not employed for fertilizing the land. The water, therefore, at this season is conducted by an elaborate system of artificial canals, and distributed over the adjacent lands according to their respective levels, at a certain price, varying with the quantity distributed. Thus the constant supply of water, the high temperature, and the fertility of the soil combined, produce the most abundant crops, and the plains of Lombardy are rendered the most productive and valuable in Europe; whereas in winter, when the temperature is lowest, the snow is congealed on the Alps, and comparatively little water comes down when it is least wanted.

From Milan we reached Verona, where the bridge, consisting principally of brick, with binding courses of marble, can boast of one of the largest brick arches in the world, an excellent example of what may be done with this material when properly handled. After passing Vicenza and Padua, we reached Venice early in September, 1819.

The extraordinary and at the same time most beautiful and novel appearance of the city, with numerous towers and spires, about which I had read and heard so much, and had so long wished to see, now stood before me, and its loveliness more than realized my most sanguine expectations. When I considered its origin, a few fishermen’s huts built upon the mud banks of the lagoon by men flying from the invasion of Attila, then the rise of the great republic whose wealth, conquests, and influence were destined hereafter to play such an important part in the world, and lastly the fallen and degraded state in which it then presented itself before me, I was lost in astonishment; I was for a while transported as it were in a dream, and could scarcely believe where I was.

The Grand Canal first attracted our notice—perhaps there is no thoroughfare in the world lined with so many magnificent palaces—and along which we passed until we came to the Rialto, a drawing of which I made and sent to my father. But if I was delighted, and I may almost say astonished, at the Grand Canal, I was still more so with the Place of St. Marc and its surrounding buildings, so varied in their architectural styles, yet each so picturesque and elegant in itself, and combined together forming at once the most interesting and beautiful scene of the kind in the world. It is one of those sights, at least speaking for myself, that never satiates—the more I looked the more I admired it. As to the details of these different buildings which we saw, they are so much better described in the numerous guide books that it is unnecessary to repeat them here.

I visited every part of the lagoons, including the various islands, all of which are more or less deserving of notice, particularly the island of Murano, the seat of the celebrated glass manufactories; and also the Moravian establishment. But what really most interested me were the lagoons, and the means which must have been resorted to for keeping them open, notwithstanding the numerous causes which were and are constantly in operation to fill them up with the alluvial matter brought down from the mountains and plains by the various rivers and streams which discharge their waters into this portion of the Adriatic, also from the alluvium brought in from the adjacent shores, by the tide, which rises from 2 to 4 feet, and at times, during heavy gales from the southward, as much as 6 feet, overflowing the quays of St. Marc’s Place.

There was a long-continued discussion amongst the numerous distinguished mathematicians, engineers, and others who have written upon this subject, as to the best way of preventing the filling up of the harbour. Some contended that the only method of effecting this was to admit all the rivers into the lagoons freely; for although they might deposit a certain amount of alluvial matter, nevertheless the great quantity of water discharged would alone be sufficient to carry away this deposit. But they forgot that when the rivers met the sea the current would necessarily be checked and rendered powerless to carry forward any matter which might be held in suspension, and that consequently the detritus would be deposited and form banks and shoals which the waters could not remove; thus in time the lagoons would be filled up, grass marshes would be formed, the city of Venice would be united to the mainland, and the harbour would be destroyed. On the other hand, it was argued, for the reasons above mentioned, that the only way to preserve the lagoons and the port of Venice was to exclude the rivers when densely charged with alluvial matter, and only to admit their waters at certain times, when they were comparatively clear; thus all the advantage would be obtained from the scour of these rivers, without the disadvantage arising from their deposits. Ultimately the arguments of the latter prevailed, the rivers were excluded from the lagoons by making a capacious canal all around them with sluices at their mouths, by means of which the waters were discharged into the lagoons when they were tolerably clear of alluvial matter; the surplus waters were discharged into the adjacent sea clear of the lagoons, and any alluvial matter which was brought in from the sea was removed by dredging from the main channels of the lagoons, so that they were in a fit state to admit the tidal waters and thus to keep the lagoons open.

But there was another important agent to be provided against, namely, the alluvial matter brought in by the winds, waves, and currents from the scouring of the adjacent shores of the Adriatic; this is done to a certain extent by dredging. Originally these banks contributed materially to the formation of the outer banks, which protect the lagoon on the sea side. If these banks were broken through or completely swept away, which the storms of the Adriatic frequently threatened to do, the lagoon, and with it the port, would be seriously injured or totally destroyed. This was remedied by defending this outer barrier bank of the lagoon by facing it with stone, and where the sea was most violent by constructing a solid breakwater of stone, and protecting it further by stone filters carried out a sufficient distance into the sea in order to divert the current, and to enable the alluvial matter to be deposited between them so as to form an additional protection to the main breakwater; this was accordingly done, and thus an extraordinary work at great expense has been constructed between Lido and Malamocco, the principal entrances from the sea to the lagoon, for a length of four miles, where the effects of the sea are greatest.

Malamocco is the principal entrance for large vessels, and the channel from thence to Venice has been deepened, chiefly by dredging, to the extent of 24 feet at low water. Lido, which is the next chief entrance and the nearest to Venice, being about 1½ mile distant from it, serves for the general class of merchant vessels. The other entrances of Foggia, Tre Porte, and the Piave, are seldom used except for fishing vessels, and it is not necessary to do more to these than to keep them in their present state, that is, to prevent deterioration, as it is an object of importance to allow the great mass of water by which the lagoon is chiefly preserved to pass in and out of the main entrances, Malamocco and Lido. Upon the whole it appears to me that this latter plan is the wisest that could be adopted, and the result has proved that it has been so far successful, although attended with considerable expense. It is in fact a choice of two evils, and the least has been chosen. It is, I believe, admitted that the port of Venice is now capable of receiving as large, if not larger, vessels than she ever received before; for it should be recollected that in the most flourishing times of Venice there were no ships drawing 23 or 24 feet, and vessels of this size can now enter and depart at all times. Hence Venice has been converted into a port fit for modern requirements; but it must always be borne in mind that so strong are the natural obstacles against its maintenance that nothing can preserve it in its present condition but the most constant vigilance and care. Fortunately the method of dredging by steam has been introduced, and this may be done to any extent, at a comparatively moderate cost, but it can only be compensated for when there is a sufficient amount of trade to pay for it. Still, in whatever way we may consider the question, it must be admitted that the port of Venice has been preserved in a most extraordinary manner during so many centuries, notwithstanding the natural obstacles against it; and now that it has been connected with the kingdom of Italy, there is no further drawback to its full development, and it only requires self-reliance and energy to render it what it once was, one, if not the most important, of the commercial cities of Italy.

At Bologna we had the pleasure of making the acquaintance of the celebrated linguist Mezzofanti, whose modest and simple manner, accompanied by his extraordinary acquirements, quite enchanted us. The singular fact is that at the time of our meeting him he had never been out of the province of Bologna, and yet he had acquired the knowledge of twenty-four languages, and, as far as our limited acquaintance went, he spoke the English, German, French, Greek and Latin tongues perfectly; and those conversant with the Oriental languages informed us that he spoke them equally well. He appeared to be completely absorbed in languages, and was scarcely acquainted with any other branches of knowledge; still his wonderful mastery of this branch of study was a great acquirement, and must have required vast powers of memory as well as indefatigable study.

From thence we passed through Ravenna to Ancona, the position of which is good, occupying as it does a salient point of the coast. The water is deep and there is a commanding height for a citadel. The Roman emperors resolved to take advantage of the situation, and built a town here, the place being well adapted for a seaport. They accordingly made a mole on the south side to protect the harbour against the most dangerous winds, namely, those blowing from the south; they commenced the work from the shore by throwing down large blocks of rough stone, which were obtained from the rocks in the vicinity, in order to form a base for the superstructure; these blocks of stone were deposited promiscuously in the sea and left to the action of the waves, which in a comparatively short time consolidated them until they formed a mass that at length became immovable, always adding more stone as required until the whole became solid; this foundation was carried up to the level of low-water mark. They then commenced the superstructure of masonry, of squared stone and brickwork cemented together by pozzolana or hydraulic mortar, which was best adapted to make the work permanent. The inside or quay wall was formed by first placing a close framework of timber in front and at the angle or slope at which the quay wall was to be formed. They then threw down a mass of pozzolana, lime, and small rubble stone, mixed together, between the wooden frames and the rubble stone which had been previously deposited to form the base of the mole. This in a comparatively short time become solid, as the mixture of pozzolana, lime, and stone possesses the quality of setting under water. When it had become sufficiently solid, the timber frame was removed and transferred to another section to form a continuation of the quay wall, and thus the whole line of inner quay wall which formed the roadway was made by backing the quay wall to its full height with rubble, and a parapet of masonry was erected on the outside; this superstructure, although rough, stood very well with occasional repairs. In this manner the mole was carried out to a great extent. A fine triumphal arch was erected at the end to commemorate the completion of the work.

It is singular that the same emperor should have constructed a like work in a similar situation and in the same manner at Civita Vecchia, on the opposite coast of Italy, after every attempt had been made to establish a port by his predecessors at Ostia, which was built at extraordinary expense, and has been filled up by the alluvial matter brought down by the Tiber and from the sea by the littoral currents, so that it is now three miles from the sea.

The principle of construction used in these works resembles a good deal the mode adopted by the Phœnicians at Tyre, and subsequently by the Carthaginians at Carthage, and by the moderns. The Romans also employed the hollow mole, that is, a mole constructed with arches, by means of which the current charged with alluvial matter was enabled to pass through the mole, and thus any deposit within or without the mole was to a great extent prevented. The harbour of Civita Vecchia remains serviceable at the present day for vessels drawing 20 feet of water, although, as may be naturally expected, a certain deposit has taken place during the lapse of so many centuries which requires to be dredged out occasionally. At Ancona only one pier was built on the south side, and consequently an eddy and stagnation took place on the north side, as the littoral current runs from south to north, and therefore there is a tendency to deposit on the north side. The French when masters of Italy commenced another mole on the north side, thus enclosing a considerable space of sea so as to form a close harbour, which no doubt is of great service; still, from the nature of the local circumstances, a certain deposit may always be expected. This, however, can be removed by dredging, and the harbour may always be preserved in a state of efficiency if the extent of trade will warrant the expenditure necessary for the purpose.

On reaching Rome, it is difficult to express the emotions I felt on a first sight of the Holy City, surrounded by the desolate Campagna, the Tiber rolling in front, the Castle of St. Angelo, and the numerous towers of churches rising out of the mass of houses, crowned by the gorgeous dome of St. Peter’s elevated in proud majesty above the whole, backed by the magnificent views of the ancient city, once the mistress of the world.

This most interesting, I may say, most thrilling, sight lay before me in all its solemn majesty. When I considered that it rose from a few insignificant shepherds’ hovels to imperial splendour, then became the prey of the barbarian hordes of the north, and lastly, the throne of the Catholic Christian world, I was awed by the wonderful decrees of Providence, and at the instability of all human grandeur. I lay restless all night; I could scarcely realize the fact that I was actually in this wonderful, all-absorbing city, to visit which from my childhood had been one of the greatest objects of my ambition. It would be vain to attempt to describe in detail its numerous splendid buildings, both ancient and modern, its museums, and its countless treasures of priceless art. I will merely remark that there is no city in the world more worthy of a visit than Rome, or where greater gratification and instruction can be derived; for example, the aqueducts and the Cloaca Maxima show how thoroughly the Romans understood the importance of sewerage and good water for the preservation of human life, an importance that is only now beginning to be recognized in England, while there still remains very much to be accomplished.

My friend Colonel Aitchison was obliged to hasten his departure. I then took lodgings in the Piazza de Spagna, and devoted myself to the study of the Italian language, architecture, and drawing, and in my leisure moments entered into society; and fortunately at that time there were assembled there some of the most distinguished characters in science, literature, and art, besides diplomatists and leaders of fashion, from the various capitals of Europe. Amongst the first may be mentioned the celebrated chemist and philosopher, Sir Humphry Davy, and his talented wife, under whose hospitable roof I passed many happy days, and at the same time received much valuable instruction. I made acquaintance with the Marchese Martinette, the scientific engineer, who at that time devised the extensive hydraulic works for the improvement of the rivers and drainage of the marsh-land districts of Bologna and Ferrara, from whom I derived much information. I also met the well-known antiquary, Sir W. Gell, who to his interesting memoir of Greece afterwards added much towards explaining the antiquities of Rome, and in his agreeable society I spent many a pleasant day. Dodwell too had just returned from Greece; and I made the acquaintance of that prince of sculptors, Canova, to whom my father had given me a letter of introduction. I frequently went to his studio, where he always received me with the greatest kindness. He was then at work on the model of his famous dying Madeleine, which struck me as a masterpiece of elegance and beauty, combined with the resignation and piety which so pre-eminently distinguishes it as a beautiful specimen of art. Nobody could be more kind, amiable, and modest in his manner than that distinguished sculptor. Flattered by emperors, kings, and the great and cultivated of every land, he never for a moment forgot himself or appeared to be elated, or to be put out of his ordinary simple, unobtrusive manner; whilst to his brother artists he was equally kind and familiar; to his inferiors he was always gentle and considerate, giving his humbler fellow-workers every encouragement and advice, cheering them on their way, and not unfrequently assisting them with his purse when their necessities required it. He was devoted to his art, of which he was so eminent a professor, and with it combined all those amiable and charitable feelings which rendered him an universal favourite and a benefactor to mankind.

I made acquaintance also with the great Dane, Thorwaldsen, who frequently admitted me to his studio. He was totally different from Canova. His square, massive head, covered with a redundance of flowing locks; his finely-developed countenance, beaming with talent and firmness of purpose; his colossal and well-proportioned figure, and erect and commanding gait, all combined to raise in the mind of the spectator a degree of respect and admiration not usually to be met with. Yet with all this apparent sternness there was combined a happy mixture of gentleness, genial sociability, and good-nature, which, after a little acquaintance, soon made you feel at home with him; and the more you knew him the more you liked him. He was then at work upon the colossal figures of the Twelve Apostles, for the church at Copenhagen, a commission given to him by the King. Several of these were finished, and magnificent specimens of art they were. I have since seen them in their places, and have looked at them with increased admiration. His Triumph of Alexander had just then been completed, and a finer specimen of bas-relief it is impossible to see. It is singular that with all this nobleness of character, and being withal a perfect master in his art, this great man—for certainly he was so in his sphere—should have looked upon Canova as his rival, and disliked him with a dislike almost amounting to hatred, whereas the gentle Canova had no such feeling towards Thorwaldsen.

Their styles, moreover, were so totally different from each other, that there could be no reason for jealousy between them. Canova excelled in the female form, where nothing but elegance, gentleness, and grace are required, although he by no means failed in the male figure; whereas Thorwaldsen excelled in that of the male, where force, manliness, and dignity are mainly requisite. Both were at the head of their profession in their respective styles, and both have left behind them numerous masterpieces of art, which have never been surpassed in ancient or modern times.

In addition to these celebrities, there were Lawrence, Chantrey, and Turner, all engaged in their respective walks of art. These I had known in England, and I received much kindness and instruction from them, and enjoyed the greatest pleasure in their delightful society.

Numerous great houses were at that time open for the reception of all the celebrities of Roman and foreign society, to which I had access. Amongst many others may be mentioned those of the beautiful Princess Borghese, the Duchess of Devonshire, and Lord William Bentinck. At the house of the Duchess of Devonshire I was introduced to the polished courtier and priest, Cardinal Gonsalvi, at that time Minister of Foreign Affairs to the Pope, whose graceful manners and elegant language, combined with a vast fund of information, enchanted everybody. I also met Thomas Moore, who enraptured the whole audience by singing his fresh melodies, with a degree of pathos, taste, and feeling which was peculiarly his own. Neither must I forget Lady Morgan, whose lively and constant prattle afforded much amusement, not altogether destitute of information.

At the hospitable house of Lord and Lady William Bentinck I saw the élite of English society, where I was frequently a welcome guest. Amongst others, appeared the beautiful Miss Canning, afterwards the Marchioness Clanricarde, and the silent, amiable, and unfortunate Lord William Russell, who afterwards fell a victim to his servant, the assassin Courvoisier.

To enumerate all the agreeable and talented persons of whom I had the honour of making the acquaintance at Rome would be foreign to my purpose, and out of place here. Suffice it to say, that the winter of 1819, which I passed at Rome, was one of the most agreeable and instructive of my life, and will ever be remembered by me with the most lively feelings of satisfaction. Before leaving I had the honour of being presented to the benevolent Pius VII., and was much captivated with his kind and unostentatious reception. After witnessing the Church ceremonies of Christmas, I left Rome just before the Carnival. I passed through Castel Gandolfo, and afterwards came upon the Pontine Marshes.

The Pontine Marshes consist of a low tract of land, extending from the elevated ridge of Castel Gandolfo to a spur of the Apennines, which approach the Mediterranean near Velletri, being a length of about 20 miles, whilst on the east they are bordered by the Apennines, from whence numerous streams and torrents descend into the marshes; and on the west, or sea side, they are bounded by a line of sandbanks, or dunes, thrown up by the waves and storms from the west; so that they form, as it were, a basin into which all the waters flow, without a natural outfall through which they can escape. To attempt to make a direct outfall to the sea was perfectly practicable, but there was no rise of tide, so that though the outfall would be considerably improved, there would yet remain the difficulty of keeping it open, in consequence of the constant influx of the sand. In similar, and indeed in all cases of this class, there are two points to be considered, namely, the water which comes from the highlands, and that which falls directly upon the lowlands. Now the former, coming from a higher level, and necessarily having greater velocity, will naturally descend to the lowest level, which is the marshes, and will force its way to the outfall before the lowland water; so that until the highland water is discharged, the lowland water, having less inclination, cannot escape, and as the outfall was extremely deficient, neither the highland nor lowland water could be discharged, and both combined accumulated upon the lowlands and flooded them. It therefore was evident that so long as this state of things remained it was impossible for the lowlands to be properly drained, as the outfall was deficient for the discharge of both waters when combined.

The only feasible mode of attaining the desired object was to separate them; then, at least, the lowlands could not be incommoded by the highland water, and would only have to discharge its own drainage. Thus, if a catchwater drain had been made along the base of the highlands, all that water might be discharged into the sea at any level required, for there is ample fall or inclination; and if another and separate outfall had been made for the discharge of the water falling upon the lowlands, although with much less fall, it might have been discharged, at least, to a great degree, if well embanked and of a proper size, because it would have been unobstructed by the highland water. But even supposing that any portion of the lowlands had been below the level of the outfall, this defect could easily have been remedied by pumping machines, worked either by wind, animal, or steam power, connected with main and subsidiary drains of proper capacity. This plan, which has been so effectively exemplified in the drainage of the great level of the Fens and elsewhere, was not adopted, but the whole of the waters, highland as well as lowland, were thrown into one drain and outfall, and thus before the highland water could be discharged, the lowland water stagnated upon the land. Until Mr. Rennie’s system is adopted, there never will be a perfect drainage; and the more imperfect the outfall, the greater is the necessity for adopting his system.

At Terracina we were terrified with the account of the brigands whom we should have to encounter in crossing the spur of the Apennines before we entered the kingdom of Naples. I here examined the old Roman port, consisting of two artificial piers of stone carried out from the shore, with the entrance pointing west. Both piers are long, and are well constructed of solid masonry, with a parapet and roadway; there being large mooring stones, with holes through their extremities, fixed solidly into the inner or quay walls of each pier. Upon the whole this is a substantial work, although, as the piers are curved, they are badly adapted for breaking the waves on the outside, and for preserving tranquillity within the harbour. The whole space within and without the piers was filled up with sand to within two feet of the quay walls. It is a common error, even at the present day, to make curved piers; the consequence is, that when the waves strike them they accumulate as they move forward, until at length they break with increased force and carry all before them. The same takes place with the waves entering the harbour, which produce such a degree of agitation within that vessels cannot lie in safety; whereas by making the piers in several straight arms the waves strike them on the outside, and they are broken, and neutralize each other at the angles.

I reached Naples through a road closely patrolled by soldiers, with blockhouses for ten or twelve men at very short intervals. Being bound for Greece, my time was very short, yet I managed to ascend Vesuvius and visit Herculaneum with Lord Guildford, as well as the Museo Borbonico as often as possible.

I examined the modern harbour of Naples, and I doubt if anything could be more badly designed. There are two small piers, the entrance between which is difficult; it is exposed to the prevalent and dangerous winds, and is scarcely safe inside. This is the more extraordinary, because the numerous remains of the ancient harbours of the Romans, dispersed throughout the bay, might have served as models for a port adapted for all the requirements of modern trade as well as for war vessels. The harbour must be improved before Naples can be provided with that accommodation which her increasing trade imperatively requires.

I started from Naples with several others on the 31st January, 1820, and after an alarm from a threatened attack by brigands on the summit of the pass of Baveno, from which we were rescued by the timely arrival of the Receiver-General of the province, on his official journey, accompanied by a numerous escort of dragoons. We reached Lecce, the capital of the province, on the evening of the 8th February, having been eleven days on the journey, a distance of about 300 miles, rather fatigued, but much pleased with this novel and interesting country, so seldom visited by travellers. I alighted at the best hotel in the place, which was but very indifferent, and the next day called upon General Church, the Governor of the province, and was most kindly received by him, he insisting upon my making his house my home. Here I again met with Lord Guildford, Lord William Russell, and Chevalier Bronsted, with whom I had previously made acquaintance at Rome. Lord Guildford was on his way to the Ionian Islands on official business, and Sir Thomas Maitland, the Governor, had ordered a vessel to be sent to Brindisi to convey his Lordship, who very civilly offered me and our two mutual friends a passage. As the vessel was not expected for several days, we in the meantime became the guests of General Church, and were most hospitably entertained by him. General Church was an extraordinary man. He was below the middle size, about the age of five-and-forty, extremely well built, spare, sinewy, and active, with a well-proportioned head, sharp piercing eyes, rather aquiline nose, and a closely-compressed mouth, denoting great firmness and resolution. He commanded a regiment of Albanians and Greeks, as an auxiliary corps in the British employment, during the great war, and in that position assisted the operations of the British cruisers on the coast of Italy; and hence he became subsequently attached to the army of Lord William Bentinck, after his conquest of Sicily. Church was a proficient in the Greek, Italian, and French languages, and, having considerable military talent, and being a great disciplinarian, soon brought the rough and savage elements of which his corps was composed into tolerable order, and rendered them of considerable service in the wild warfare in which they were engaged. At the conclusion of the war he retired on half pay to Naples, where, being well known to the Government, he was made Governor of the province of Otranto, at that time overrun with brigands. Church was appointed to the command with unlimited control, and by his vigorous and energetic conduct soon spread terror and dismay amongst them; he was here, there, and everywhere; when they least expected, he came upon them suddenly, dispersed them, and destroyed the leaders without mercy. He had many narrow escapes himself from sharing the same fate. Once it is related that he and his aide-de-camp, Captain Kusini, entered unknowingly a small town, of which one of the most able and daring brigand chiefs, with a powerful band of followers, was in possession. Church, when he found this, determined to make the best of it, being perfectly aware of his danger. He entered the chief inn and sent for the landlord, who recognized him at once, and asked him if he knew that the brigand chief and his followers were actually in the town. “Yes,” replied Church, with imperturbable coolness, “I am come expressly to meet him; tell him that I want to see him immediately.” The brigand chief accordingly came, astonished to see the General, whom he least expected; he began to be alarmed, thinking he was surrounded. The General, addressing the brigand by name, informed him that there was no chance of his escape, but that if he and his followers would surrender, he would pardon them and get them employed in the King’s army. The brigand chief and his men declined this generous offer. Church then told him that he was sorry, for their own sakes, as in future they could expect no mercy. The brigand and his followers then withdrew, determined on their side to show no quarter to the troops if ever they should get them within their power; but for the moment, being ignorant of Church’s position, they were afraid to attack him, little supposing that he was at that time theirs. This extraordinary interview having terminated, Church felt that he had played the game far enough, and the sooner he and his aide-de-camp made their escape the better. The landlord, fortunately for them, kept the secret. The General and his aide-de-camp escaped by the back of the house, climbed over some fences, reached their horses, and then galloped off, never pulling bridle until they had reached their own followers, who, when they heard what had passed, were astonished at their escape, which was due alone to the coolness and courage of the General. Scarcely had Church and his aide-de-camp departed when the brigand and his followers learned how completely they had been deceived, and at once set off in pursuit; but they were soon obliged to retreat, being themselves pursued by a superior force, from which they narrowly escaped capture; the band was afterwards destroyed. This is but one out of the numerous instances of Church’s extraordinary adventures. In a short time he extirpated brigandism, the province regained its tranquillity, and the people pursued their several employments in peace without fear of molestation, blessing the General who had relieved them from their oppressors.

Being particularly desirous of seeing Brindisi, from my recollections of Horace, I obtained an escort of two dragoons from General Church, for, said he, “You may meet some unwelcome visitors on the way; but if they see the uniform of my dragoons they will not trouble you with their acquaintance.” Brindisi, which I need not now describe, struck me as being an excellent port on the whole, and now that it is made the terminus of the railway from Naples, which connects it with the entire railway system of Europe, it will no doubt become a place of considerable importance.

I embarked with Lord and Lady Guildford and others in a Government vessel, and reached Corfu on the 27th February. The day was fine, and we were much struck with the beauty of the surrounding sea and mountains, together with the view of the magnificent inlet forming the harbour of Corfu, comprising as it did the ancient and picturesque town on the bold outline of St. Salvador and the rich undulating fields. As this was the first time I had seen anything of Greece, I particularly remarked the handsome appearance of the population and their picturesque costume.

There was nothing worthy of notice in the town except the old fortifications, so that I determined to make my stay as short as possible and take the first conveyance for Zante, and from thence to the mainland of Greece. Corfu, having been under so many different governments, partook in some measure of the character of all—Turkish, Venetian, Russian, French, English, but the ruling feature was Greek and Albanian. Our Government, urged on by that amiable, excellent, and enthusiastic person, the late Lord Guildford, had determined to establish an university at Zante, to revive classical learning, and Lord Guildford was appointed Lord Rector. He was an excellent scholar and linguist, and a most good-natured person; he was anything but a man of the world, and little acquainted with the real character of the modern Greeks. Sir Thomas Maitland, the Lord Chief Commissioner and Governor of the islands, was a totally different character, and knew the Greeks well. He was a stern, uncompromising soldier, with great talent, courage, and firmness, joined to long experience in war, politics, and governing mankind in every part of the world; he was not to be deceived by plausible appearances; to use his own phrase, he would stand no humbug, and would make his commands obeyed, although he was a strict administrator of justice. He treated Lord Guildford’s plan with great ridicule. “They were clever and learned enough, but they had already a great deal to unlearn; the first thing was to make them honest and obedient to the law.” When Sir Thomas became Lord Chief Commissioner of the Ionian Islands, the population was in a most disorganized state; pillage, murder, and piracy, were very common, and the malefactors were triumphant, and defied the law. It therefore required a strong hand to keep them in order, and Sir Thomas was just the man to do it—which he did. Under his strict but just rule they soon became more manageable, as they found he would not be trifled with.

On the day after my arrival I left my card at the palace, and received an invitation to dine with him on the 2nd March. I had taken no letter of introduction to him, although he knew my father; but I had previously heard that he disliked nothing so much as letters of introduction, and seldom paid them any respect, even when coming from the highest quarters. I accordingly made my appearance at the palace punctually at the time appointed, and soon after a brilliant assemblage was collected, in full costume, all waiting for the Governor. He shortly after appeared in full uniform, covered with orders. He was a rather fine-looking man, about sixty-five, of the middle size, with a strong, square, well-built, well-proportioned, figure. His countenance and speech betrayed his Scotch origin; and his large bluish-grey eyes shaded by shaggy eyebrows, his well developed nose, and compressed mouth, evinced a decided strength of will. His speech was terse and blunt, but with a strange mixture of kindness and severity, and altogether he was evidently made to command and be respected. I kept in the background, but he came up to me, and in his dry Scotch manner said, “I suppose you are Mr. Rennie; and pray, sir, may I ask what brought you to this country?” “To study the antiquities of ancient Greece.” He at once replied, with a certain degree of vehemence, “A pack of nonsense; gang awa’ back to your worthy father in England, he will teach you more in two days than ye will learn here in all your life.” Then, shaking me very cordially by the hand, he said, “But I am very glad to see you, and if I can do anything for you I shall be very happy, for your gude father’s sake.” Dinner was then announced, and a capital dinner we had, Sir Thomas making himself very agreeable, and cracking his Scotch jokes right and left with a great deal of glee. I sat nearly at the bottom of the table, and immediately opposite to me was Colonel Napier, afterwards the celebrated Sir Charles Napier of Scinde. I was much struck with his countenance; his keen piercing eyes, his prominent aquiline nose, and his restless, quivering lips, marked him out as a man of great character. I said to myself, if opportunity offers, that man will much distinguish himself hereafter, and time has shown that I was not mistaken. Sir Thomas is reported to have said, “Napier is a great Radical, and a friend to liberty and equality; he has considerable talents, and I will give him an opportunity of showing himself, and I will wager that before six months are over there will be a petition to the House of Commons against him for tyranny and oppression of the people.” Sir Thomas was a true prophet; he made Colonel Napier Governor of the island of Cephalonia; a most troublesome set he had to deal with, and he was obliged to use harsh measures to bring them under control; true enough a petition was got up by the inhabitants of the island complaining of him for his severity and cruelty, and requesting the Government to remove him from his command. When Sir Thomas heard of this he laughed heartily, and said, to his staff, “Did not I tell you so? the Radicals, however much they may preach about liberty and equality, are always the greatest tyrants.” Sir Thomas was held in high respect at head-quarters, and whenever he went to England and asked for instructions at the Colonial Office, was told to write them for himself, as the Government had entire confidence in him.

I here made the acquaintance of Captain Smyth, of the Navy, and his amiable and accomplished wife. Captain Smyth was then employed in making a survey of the Ionian Islands for the British Government, which was afterwards published; and certainly for elaborateness of detail and completeness of execution it has seldom been surpassed. Every plate is ornamented with a view of the architectural remains of the most remarkable buildings in the district, and also views of the coast, which were drawn by Mrs. Smyth with great taste, beauty, and fidelity, and form an important feature in this great work. Captain (afterwards Admiral) Smyth was a man of considerable scientific acquirements; and after having been most actively employed in different parts of the world (always with distinction), he retired to Bedford, where he erected an observatory, and published his celebrated astronomical observations, which, in addition to his public service, entitle him to a high place among literary, scientific, and professional men. He was of a most amiable and jovial disposition, ever ready for fun and amusement whenever they did not interfere with his duties; he was, moreover, always ready to serve a friend, and was universally beloved and respected by his numerous acquaintance. For myself, I regarded him as a valuable and sincere friend, whose loss I afterwards most deeply regretted.

Count Lunzi, one of the Greek nobles, a most agreeable and talented young man, and a large proprietor on the island, who had travelled with us, invited me to his country house, and I set off with my friend the Chevalier Bronsted to pay him a visit on the following day, the 10th February. We started on horseback on a fine day, and after riding through a rich, level plain for about ten miles, we reached the volcanic pitch-wells, and on our return found Count Lunzi awaiting our arrival at his Villa Sarachina. He received us most cordially, and conducted us into the house, and we were introduced to his family, by whom we were most hospitably entertained. We then took a kind farewell of our host at 5 P.M., mounted our horses, and proceeded homewards. At first we rode along leisurely, and gradually quickened our pace; at last we got into a full gallop. My horse, which was little better than a pony, although a very handsome, strong, well-made animal, by this time became so excited that he fairly got the better of me, and proceeded at a furious rate, so that I lost all control over him. Away he went helter-skelter over land and water, driving all before him. In vain I attempted to stop him. At last, finding it useless, I let him have his way; and arriving at the bay of Zante, he made direct for the sea. I allowed him to proceed until he began to swim; then, finding he was in no disposition to return, I dismounted, and partly swam, partly waded ashore, where I awaited his return; he soon got tired of swimming, and came to land. I then caught him, and mounted, and returned to Zante. My friend Bronsted, who was completely distanced, joined me as I remounted, and we rode back together. As we entered the town I saw a number of soldiers looking on and laughing; I did not know why. But it appeared that this pony was noted throughout the place for his tricks, and they wondered how, after venturing upon his back (which I certainly should not have done if I had known his vicious character), I had come back safe and sound. However, I had punished him pretty well, and he became quieter afterwards. We had a hearty laugh at the adventure; and, being thoroughly drenched to the skin, I changed my clothes, and joined Sir Patrick Ross’s dinner-party, when again everybody laughed at me, and congratulated me upon my happy escape.

Before quitting this subject I cannot help saying a few words about my friend Bronsted, the Dane. He was a most excellent person, and a first-rate scholar and antiquary, well known for his researches. He had acquired some most valuable bronzes, being portions of helmets found at Cortona, of which he published an elaborate account. The figures and other ornaments are most elaborate in design and execution; in fact, they are masterpieces of art, and were afterwards bought by the British Museum (for a considerable sum), where, I believe, they still remain.

I made several other excursions to various parts of the island; amongst others, to the top of the mountain which forms the south-west promontory of the bay. The summit rises far above the Mediterranean, and the view from it is magnificent, commanding the whole of the beautiful island, which lies at its base like a rich garden, and some other islands and adjacent coasts.

The inhabitants are a good-looking, active, and industrious race, but, like their neighbours, inclined to be very turbulent, and require to be kept in order by the strong arm of the law.

While here, just at the equinox, we had, as usual, some very severe storms; and one night I was roused from my sleep with a violent shaking of the bed, which lasted several seconds. It was at the same time raining tremendously, and blowing very hard, accompanied by violent thunder and lightning. I jumped out of bed, not knowing what it was; the house trembled, and I thought it was coming down. The other inmates were also alarmed. After waiting anxiously for some time the storm abated. I went to bed again, and slept soundly until morning, and then inquired of the landlord the cause, when he informed me that it was the shock of an earthquake, which they frequently felt in the island; and on the following day we learned that the same earthquake had been most severely felt at the neighbouring island of Santa Maura, that many houses had been thrown down, and a number of the unfortunate inhabitants destroyed. I had frequently been told by persons who had lived in volcanic countries of the extraordinary sensation produced by earthquakes on the human frame, but until I had experienced it I never could appreciate its effects; certainly they are most remarkable; the whole nervous system is convulsed, and one fancies that the last hour has arrived, so that it takes some time before the system recovers its usual tone. I certainly should not wish to experience another shock, and was extremely happy to have escaped with nothing more than a shaking and a severe fright.

Having now spent fourteen days very agreeably, being most kindly entertained by the Governor, Sir Patrick Ross, the officers of the 75th, and others, and having seen enough of Zante, I was anxious to proceed on my journey, only waiting for a vessel to take me to Greece, when fortunately I heard that an English mercantile brig, commanded by Captain Burgess, a rough old Scotchman, was about to sail for Patras, so I at once took my leave of Sir Patrick Ross, his family, and all my other kind friends, packed up my baggage, embarked at 3 P.M. on the 23rd March, and bade adieu to Zante. After a pleasant passage, but rough accommodation, we arrived at the entrance to the Gulf of Corinth, and anchored in the roadstead about a mile from the shore. I paid my passage, landed, proceeded up to the town, called upon Mr. Green, the Consul, and soon found tolerably comfortable quarters in a Greek house, but the beds were sadly infested with bugs, which annoyed me much. Before leaving Zante, I ought to say that I here engaged a Greek, who had been well recommended to me. His name was Demetrius Papandriopolo. He was about thirty-five, of the middle size, sharp, active, sober, intelligent, and honest, and served me faithfully through the greater part of my journey, for above twelve months, until I returned to Malta on my way back to England. I found him a most valuable servant, and he rendered me the most essential services.

Patras was then a trading town of some importance, in fact, the principal one in the Morea, and it contained a considerable number of inhabitants, almost wholly Greeks, without including the Turkish garrison. It is situated on a hill about a quarter of a mile from the gulf of the same name, where there is a small rubble jetty for boats to land their goods, &c. The roadstead outside is safe and well protected. The town is surrounded by a rich, fertile plain, well cultivated with olives, vines, and currants. The entrance to the Gulf of Corinth is protected by two old castles, the distance between them being about a mile and a half; and three miles east is the modern town of Lepanto (it was formerly the ancient Naupactus), celebrated for the victory over the Turks by John of Austria; it contains 2000 souls; the surrounding views are very fine. The town was under the command of a Turkish Governor, and is situated upon the side of a hill rising to the east, encompassed by a rude wall and ditch, and crowned at the summit by a citadel, in which the Governor and the garrison resided. Besides the citadel there were no remarkable buildings of any kind: the streets were narrow and dirty. There were a few mosques interspersed here and there, whose graceful minarets, rising above the mass, gave the place a most picturesque appearance. The town contained numerous bazaars, where all the trade of the place was carried on, and the neighbourhood of the main street was filled with cafés, crowded with Greeks, Turks, Ionians, French, English, and various other nations, all smoking their long pipes, drinking coffee, sherbet, and various other liquors, apparently in great comfort. The Turk, as lord supreme, moved leisurely about with the most solemn dignity, having the greatest contempt for his neighbours, and every now and then, as a Christian passed by, he greeted him with a lofty scowl, as if he considered him unworthy of notice, uttering the simple word Giaour! and passed on without further ceremony. I frequently wandered amongst the bazaars, then to me a perfectly novel sight, and was much amused with the gravity and solemn dignity with which the Turks sat cross-legged behind their counters; if you asked for any of their wares, they quietly, with a monosyllable, ordered their assistant to show it to you, as if they considered it a favour. This was so different to what I had been accustomed to in the civil, well-bred shopkeepers in Europe, that I could not help laughing outright, which I soon found would not do, as it gave great offence.

One morning, whilst walking along the shore in front of the roadstead, whom should I stumble upon but my old friend Captain Smyth, who had come to Patras on a surveying expedition in one of the small auxiliary boats attached to his larger vessel, which lay at anchor in the roadstead. This auxiliary boat, although small, was fitted up with every convenience for the purpose, and adapted to enter shoal water, in order to complete the details of the survey. In this he was accompanied by one or two assistants, and a few men to work it, so that he could be absent from his ship for several days without inconvenience. Captain Smyth was delighted to see me, and asked me to dine with him on board his boat, and I agreed to, with great pleasure. I accordingly went there at the time appointed, and amongst the guests met Captain Hunter and his wife, and our worthy Consul (Mr. Green). We had a most cordial welcome and an excellent dinner, and afterwards passed a delightful evening. Towards sunset we adjourned to the beach in order to take ices, which we got from the town, and enjoy ourselves by smoking our cigars. Whilst we were thus happily seated, laughing and talking together, we were surrounded by numerous Greeks from the town, amongst whom were several Turkish soldiers, armed to the teeth, and carrying their long pipes, which they never abandoned for a moment. The jolly old Captain said, “Now I will astonish these fellows,” and immediately dispatched one of his officers for his seven-barrelled pistol, which was brought, and duly loaded. He then told his interpreter to inform the Turks that this was a pistol which he could discharge as many times as he liked without reloading. The Turks held up their hands in astonishment, exclaimed “In Shallah!” and with a scornful look at us, said such a thing was not possible. Smyth, however, at once rose from his seat, deliberately discharging his pistol one, two, three, four, five, and six times, to the utter amazement of the Turks, who could scarcely believe what they saw. He then, with the utmost coolness, asked whether they were convinced, to which they all replied, with the exclamation of “In Shallah!” perfectly so. Smyth then offered them coffee and ices, of which they readily partook, and, after a hearty salutation and shaking of hands, they returned to the town, saying what wonderful people these Ingleses are. This pistol resembled the modern Colt revolver, although differing in some particulars. Before leaving I visited the celebrated cypress tree, three miles to westward. Its base is about 40 feet in circumference, and it is 35 to 40 feet high, the upper part having been blown off during a gale. I also visited St. Andrea, where were the remains of the well and some fragments of sculpture.

I took leave of my excellent and talented friend, the Captain, and determined to start the next day, the 27th of March. Upon returning to my quarters at Patras, I was informed that there was a French gentleman of the name of Prevot, an artist, who was about proceeding to Athens to make a panoramic view of that city, and was desirous of knowing whether I would allow him to accompany me. Finding him a very agreeable person, and having been introduced by Mr. Green, and being glad of a companion upon my lonely and novel journey, I willingly consented to his joining me.

Having got all my baggage on board, attended by my servant Demetrius, we started early on the following morning, the 27th, at seven. The day was unfortunately very rough, with violent gusts of wind, heavy rain, accompanied by thunder and lightning; notwithstanding which we started on our journey, and when we got into the gulf there was a heavy swell (which threatened at times to overwhelm the boat and all in it), with baffling winds, which materially retarded our progress. We struggled on all day: at last our boatmen said that it was impossible to proceed farther; we therefore determined to run ashore, and finish our journey the next day. We accordingly did so, and landed in a small bay, the only safe one on the south side, near Vostizza, at about four o’clock in the afternoon, two hours before sunset. Then came the question, where were we to sleep? Vostizza was about one or two miles distant, and there were no means of transporting our baggage there; and to leave it in the boat was to expose it to being plundered, as the boatmen said they would not be responsible for it, in consequence of the numerous bad characters lurking about, pirates, robbers, &c. As there was no possibility of getting our things to Vostizza, and there were the remains of a convent (which had been ruined by an earthquake) close by on the shore, on a cliff about 50 feet above the gulf, I proposed at once that we should place our things there, and sleep, to which my companion, who was very tired and sick of the voyage, readily consented. We got the boatmen to land the things, and place them in the convent; but when we got there, to our great surprise and mortification, found that it was uninhabited and half in ruins. There was no alternative, however, as there was no other building near us; so we made the best of it, and prepared to pass the night there. We went upstairs, explored the ruined building all over, and at length we discovered one large room tolerably perfect, and capable of keeping out the rain. This we chose for our night’s quarters, placed the baggage in order, and then commenced to prepare our supper. Upon examining our provisions, such as we had, we found them considerably damaged by the wet and unfit for use. I then decided that Demetrius and myself should go to the bazaar of Vostizza, and purchase what we could get, whilst we left M. Prevot in charge in the convent; and I gave the boatmen some money on account to provide themselves for the night where they could: the boat, everything having been taken out, was firmly moored to the shore.

Demetrius and myself went to Vostizza, and returned to the convent just after dark, laden with a bag well furnished with wine and provisions, the best we could get, and immediately set about preparing our mattresses for beds, and lighting a good fire to cook the supper. Demetrius was a capital cook, and about nine o’clock had got ready an excellent repast. Having had scarcely anything all day, and being miserably wet and cold, after having washed, and dressed in dry things, with a roaring wood fire before us, we enjoyed our supper excessively, forgot all discomforts, and about eleven lay down upon our mattresses for the night. Before doing this, warned by what our boatmen told us of the insecurity of the place, we fastened the door of our room as well as we could with an English padlock, and placed our heavy baggage and the table against the door, examined the priming of our pistols, which were well loaded, and lay down to sleep. My mattress was placed immediately opposite to the door, Demetrius was in the other corner, and M. Prevot near the fireplace, with an understanding between us that if any noise occurred during the night we were not to leave our berths, for fear of mistaking each other for an enemy. We slept tolerably sound until about two o’clock in the morning, when I awoke and thought I heard the movement of footsteps on the landing outside our door. We had kept a light burning all night. I listened again attentively, and thought I heard voices outside, then something like a push against the door. I awakened my companions, and told them to be ready with pistols, but not to fire until we were attacked, and then if possible to keep our positions. I had scarcely done this when a violent attack was made against the door, which in a moment was burst in, the table, portmanteaus, &c., being hurled into the middle of the room; this was immediately followed by a rush of several armed men. I instantly fired into the midst of them, Demetrius seconded me by another shot, and I repeated mine. We then heard a shriek as if somebody was wounded, and the whole of our assailants precipitately beat a retreat, scampering down the stairs as rapidly as possible. I reloaded, and we jumped up, rushed to the stair-head, and were going to follow them, but upon second thoughts we considered it best to remain where we were. We then secured the door again and tried to sleep, but in vain; we therefore lay watching until daylight, when our boatmen called us, and we prepared to depart, rejoicing heartily at our lucky escape from being robbed and murdered, as we assuredly should have been if we had not been armed and defended ourselves so stoutly. Before leaving, we examined the landing and stairs, and discovered some traces of blood, so that some one must have been wounded. Our boatmen told us that we had a very narrow escape; they said that they would not have slept there, and indeed told us before that we had better not, as there were numerous pirates and rascals in the vicinity, who waylaid all travellers, and seldom allowed them to escape even with their lives.

Early in the morning, which was very fine after the storm, we set sail with a fair wind, and bid adieu to Vostizza, with a remembrance of its inhospitable shore not likely to be soon forgotten. We had a delightful voyage, and enjoyed the beautiful mountain scenery on both sides of the gulf with much satisfaction, and reached the custom-house of Corinth, three miles from the town, before the close of the day. We then discharged our boatmen, and finding no horses, were obliged to stop at this nasty, wretched place, and passed a most miserable night. Next morning, the 29th, having got horses, we started at eight and reached the caravanserai at Corinth at nine, and having breakfasted and dressed, called upon the Bey, who received us very civilly. We wandered about all day examining the place and its antiquities. I arose early in the morning, awakened by the Muezzin as he was calling the faithful to prayers from the galleries of the minarets attached to the mosques. I had not heard this at Patras, having slept too late, and therefore it appeared to me for the first time most novel and singular. I listened to it with peculiar interest, as the contrast was so different to our own, where this office is performed by bells. On the same day, after breakfast, I examined the town, a poor miserable place domineered over by the Turks, with no trade, and the wonder was how the people lived. There was nothing worthy of examination except the beautiful remains of the Temple of Venus, of the simple, severe, yet commanding Doric order. A few columns only were left, surmounted by the cornice and entablature; these have been so often measured and engraved, that it is unnecessary to say more about them here, except that they are eminently beautiful, and an excellent specimen of that bold and expressive style of architecture. I was anxious to mount the Acropolis, crowned by an old fort and garrisoned by Turks, but this was not permitted: I regretted it much, for, seated as it is on a commanding eminence, eighteen hundred feet above the level of the adjoining gulf, the view over the sea and the fine mountainous surrounding country must be magnificent; but the Turks in those days were so proud, insolent, and domineering, that the sight of a Christian was an abhorrence to them, and one was glad to get out of their way, although even then they had considerable respect for the English, more indeed than any other nation; for we had saved them from the French and had protected them against the encroachment of the Russians, who had already begun to be very troublesome. Having nothing further to see, we were anxious to get away as early as possible.

There were two routes to Athens, to which we were destined, one entirely by land over the isthmus, the other by sea, after crossing the six miles of isthmus which separates the Corinthian Gulf from the Ægean Sea. We determined therefore to take the latter, and on the 30th March, having engaged the necessary number of horses, and loaded them after a considerable wrangling and noise with their keepers, started at 1 P.M. for Recrees Ceneres, on the borders of the Ægean Sea. At 3 P.M., in crossing the isthmus, we came upon the remains of the wall said to have been built by the Venetians for preventing the incursions of the Turks into the Morea. Here we dismounted, and engaged one of the boats of the country and embarked. However, as there was little or no wind, we were out all night, and did not reach the Piræus before four o’clock in the afternoon of the 31st. This is a fine natural port, but the town was then a miserable place, surrounded by a few wretched buildings, at the head of which was a Turkish custom-house, where the authorities at first made considerable opposition to our landing. However, I soon silenced them with a respectable backshish, or present, when they became as civil as possible, and not only allowed us to land with our baggage, but did not subject us to any examination; we therefore at once inquired for horses to take us to Athens, but finding none to be had, were obliged to remain that night in a wretched plastered room at the custom-house. Next day, 1st April, having got horses, we started at six, with no end of wrangling with muleteers, which the Turks soon silenced by laying about right and left, to our great amusement. I at once interfered, and rewarded the Turks with another backshish, when they heartily saluted me, and we started without further molestation, and reached Athens, six miles distant, over a miserable road, within an hour and a half, at half-past seven o’clock. There were then no hotels, so we took up our quarters at the house of a respectable Greek, Toagrafos, with but poor accommodation. I by this time had become so accustomed to bad fare and lodging that I did not mind it, but my friend, the French artist, was not so easily satisfied; we therefore parted, and he endeavoured to find better apartments elsewhere. I never met him again, and consequently do not know how he succeeded with his panorama, or whether he ever completed it, but I heard that about a year afterwards a panorama of Greece had been exhibited at Paris with considerable success. I hoped that it was that of my friend, for he appeared to be an excellent person, and was certainly a very pleasant companion, with all the characteristic ardour and enthusiasm of his countrymen. He had never been out of France before, and therefore felt the désagréments of the journey a great deal more than I did; nevertheless, by the time he reached Athens he had become tolerably well accustomed to it, and, with the usual French sang froid, made up his mind to it, and enjoyed the journey as much as myself.

We arrived at Athens on Friday, the 1st April, in the midst of spring; the weather was delightful, the sun shining brightly, the sky cloudless, the vegetation bursting into full luxuriance, the plain and mountains covered with flowers and shrubs of the most brilliant and varied hues. Nature seemed to be in all her glory, and man to sympathize with her. I was in most exuberant spirits, and was pleased with everything around me. The beauty of the country, and the very idea that I was in Athens, which from my boyhood I was most anxious to see, and which I scarcely ever expected to behold, aroused me to such a pitch of enthusiasm that I could scarcely believe my eyes; which was not extraordinary, considering the brilliant and memorable scene which burst upon my sight, and by which I was surrounded. I soon sallied forth again, called upon the English and Austrian consuls and delivered my letters, and hurried about all day, taking a hasty view of the Parthenon, the Temple of Theseus, Jupiter Olympus, and the Temple of the Winds, which I admired excessively; then, thoroughly tired and exhausted, I returned to my lodgings, took a hasty supper and went to bed, dreaming of the glories of ancient Greece. After breakfast I went out, and at once made my way to the Acropolis, where the glorious Parthenon stood out prominently. I was riveted to the spot with admiration, and could go no farther. At last I came to myself, and found the scorching rays of the sun rather more than agreeable. I then returned to my quarters, dined, reposed during the heat of the day, and towards evening I again sallied forth, and enjoyed a magnificent sunset, such as I had been totally unaccustomed to in our frigid climate of England. I again went to the Acropolis the following day, and there enjoyed the splendid scene. The Acropolis is a detached rock, standing high above the plain or valley on which Athens is situated; upon this rock is the citadel, where the Parthenon, the Erechtheum, and all the other principal buildings are placed, and in addition to this it is a citadel or fortress, where, in case of attack, and the city below being taken, the Acropolis would form a refuge for the garrison and the inhabitants. From the summit you command a view of the country all around: on the north Mount Olympus and the Pindus range of mountains; on the south the Mediterranean, the island of Syra, and several others; on the east the plain of Athens, flanked by Mount Hymettus, and Mount Hybla on the north; on the west the Piræus, the Ægean Sea, and the mountains of the Peloponnesus or Morea; in fact, whichever way you look, the view is delightful, and you are satisfied.

Autobiography of Sir John Rennie, F.R.S., Past President of the Institute of Civil Engineers

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