fixed and fortified a camp near here. The Germans attacked it in 1871, and it capitulated on October 23rd of that year, after a long and severe struggle, and was made, for the time being (to the great chagrin of the inhabitants) the head-quarters of the German General Werder. Having made as full an acquaintance of the place as we could in the short time at our disposal, we paid our hotel account and found ourselves again at the railway station. Here I had a long and angry altercation with the ticket examiner. I understood him to say our tickets were for another route; I closely scanned them, and assured him in the best French at my command, our tickets were in order, and, after considerable difficulty, he consented to our passing the stile and getting, to the train. Again we were on rail, comfortably fixed and destined for Chambery. We had not left Dijon long before we noticed the vine-clad hills, which indicated our approach to the South of France, and Alpine hills. The scenery grew more beautiful as we sped along towards our destination. We were able not only to enjoy the views as we passed villages and hamlets—but were able to get a fairly good square meal on the train. We arrived safely at Chambery about 5 o’clock, and as usual we had fixed upon an hotel. This time it is Hotel de France, and we were soon in a rumbling old ’bus and driven to a very quiet part of this quiet sleepy little town. We found it fairly comfortable, and a hostess who had a robust and bonny appearance, and whose welcome in the French fashion was all we could wish. Our rooms were lofty and rather barely furnished. There was a feeling of chilliness about the place, but we were only staying for one night, so would put up with it. A good hot table-de-hote dinner, and we felt better. To bed at an early hour, was our habit, and here we did not break it. A good night’s rest, and I was stirring early to look round and get information. It is a town of about 13,000 inhabitants. An Archbishop resides here (of the Romish Church) of course. It has some manufacturies in silk gauze, watches, leather, etc. I saw some soldiers on horseback on parade and took a snap-shot. Also two fine bullocks pulling a wagon of timber. We had a very good breakfast, as our hostess was most gracious and obliging. We settled up accounts, which we found on a moderate scale, indeed, cheaper than a similar hotel in England. We started for the station on foot, the morning being fine, while a porter conveyed our luggage on a wheelbarrow. Arriving in good time at the station we managed to get good comfortable corner seats, so we could “view the landscape o’er” at our leisure. We soon found it was worth surveying, for we were nearing the Alps. On our left, some fifty miles or more—Geneva and, between the city and Chambery, lay a rugged mountainous district scarcely matched in any part of the world. For an hour or more we watched the changing scenery with an intense interest.
CHAPTER IV.
Our journey to and through Mont Cenis Tunnel: Passing the Customs: Our new friend Nurse Reynolds: Our scrimmage for provisions at Turin: Arrival at Genoa and Table-de-hote: Arrival at Rome and our Hotel, etc.
Mountains, rivers, waterfalls, landscapes, vineyards, castles, chalets, and in some cases, so near the villages, we saw children playing on the village green, our train steaming on at a good speed, we soon found ourselves at Modane. This is the frontier between France and Italy, and here I expected we should have to change trains, go through the Customs, and re-embark on another train. So we got out of the train. I soon found, however, we were not to change, so we re-entered another part of the same train, and here we were civilly and carefully dealt with; the very acme of politeness was shown. Our bags and valises were just opened, but scarcely examined. We declared we had nothing within, to the best of our knowledge and belief, upon which duty was payable. When asked the question, I answered “Non, Monsieur.” When we came to settle down before the train proceeded on its journey we noticed our fellow travellers were different. We found two ladies, mother and daughter, going to join a near relative in India; an Italian woman, not over clean, with a babe about four weeks’ old; and a nurse in uniform who was going to Rome to fill a position, also she wanted to learn the Italian language. My dear wife and this nurse soon became close acquaintances, as they both had learned the profession, and for some time they were too absorbed almost to notice the scenery we were passing, for we were now nearing the Alps through which we were to pass. We reached Mont Cenis duly, and, as we heard so much of this terrible tunnel, we almost dreaded passing through it. At this point there is an old pass over Mont Cenis, or roadway between Piedmont and Savoy, the highest point 11,570 feet above sea level. The pass was an old unused road, and dangerous on account of brigands and bandittis. Bonaparte, be it said to his credit, in 1803, spent £300,000 in repairing it, and it was here the great Napoleon III. sent his troops into Italy against Austria in 1859. The tunnel is about eight miles in length. To make it was a work of almost superhuman labour and skill. It was commenced by two sets of men, one on the Italian side and one set on the French side, in the year 1857; and so exact had been the calculations made, that when the men met in the middle, they were not a single foot out of their calculations. The cost was nearly £3,000,000, and quite a number of valuable lives. Now, both for business and pleasure, a way has been opened to the sunny south. We settled in our respective corners as we pierced this great mountain, and gave ourselves up to reflection. The great train thundered on, and silence largely held us all in its thrall. The half-hour in going through Mont Cenis seemed almost half-a-day. At last we emerged into the day light, and into the glorious sunshine of sunny Italy, with its vine-clad hills, and its serene and sunny sky—“Land of all lands the pride,” leaving behind us the Alpine heights (to revisit them on our return). We were running for Turin. We found we had no buffet on the train, and as we had not laid in a stock of refreshments, we began to feel the cravings of nature, and we began to wonder how they were to be satisfied. We ultimately pulled up at Turin; how long we were to stop I did not know, and I could not ask, for now it was beyond my bit of French. I said to my dear wife, here goes, we must have bread or starve: if the train leaves before I return to you—well, good-bye! But I will do my best to be back in a few minutes and before the train leaves. Without hat I rushed down the platform looking for a buffet, right at the bottom of a long platform I saw the word buffet. I darted in, threw down a lire, and picked up two rolls of bread worth about twopence each, also some fruit worth about as much. I seized these and hurried back to the carriage, passengers and people looking on and the waiters seemed to think I must be an escaped lunatic. Well! I reached our carriage just as the train was moving out. What would have happened if I had been left behind I do not care to think. “All’s well that ends well.” So we got at least something that would keep soul and body together until we could get a proper meal. We had decided to stop at Genoa, but my wife said “well, now Nurse is going right through to Rome, let us keep her company.” So we decided not to remain at Genoa, but to go right through; that meant twenty-four hours in the train. As we were approaching Genoa we could see lovely vine-clad slopes, also the hills, the rivers and lakes, the landscapes, lovely beyond my power to describe.
Genoa is a very fine city. I felt I could say of it as is said of the City of Jerusalem. Beautiful for situation is Genoa. Here we found we should have time for dinner; twenty minutes being allowed. We left our carriage—now I had two nurses to take care of—we had to go under some arches, and across several platforms, to get to the buffet; this took us five minutes out of the twenty. We found, to our extreme satisfaction, a table-de-hote fully set out. Soup was laid out and waiting; waiters plenty. No sooner one course was over, another was before us—chicken, fish, saddle of mutton, pastry, ices, and more than we needed—so that in ten minutes we had well satisfied the inner man. Cigars were lying on the counter, and each passenger having dinner just helped himself, also to as much fruit as we could conveniently take. We were also helping ourselves to Post Cards but these, we were reminded, we must pay for as extra. So we scampered back with all speed. Never, I think, did a dinner of eight courses disappear so quickly. We had no time to explore the town, and we could only get glimpses of it from the train going in. It is called “le Superb.” Has some of the finest churches in Italy; is also a city of Commerce, of Shipping. It is a garrisoned city, and has fortifications considered impregnable. It is a city of palaces. Also has a picture gallery containing some fine paintings by the old masters, one by Guercino, in the very best colouring, “Virgin and Child.” This has been a favourite subject of the Artists, as both in oils and in marble and stone, this subject is prominent.
