The machine once presented to the rock, projects into it simultaneously four horizontal series of sixteen scalpels, working backward and forward, by means of springs cased in, and put in operation by the same water power. While these are at work, one vertical series on each side works simultaneously up and down, so that together they cut out four blocks on all sides, except in the rock behind, from which they are afterwards detached by hand. During the operation a pump throws a jet of water between each pair of scalpels, to prevent the heating of the tools, and to wash out the rubbish. After their complete separation, the blocks are pulled out by the help of the endless cable, and received into a waggon, to be drawn from the tunnel. The machines are only to cut a gallery thirteen feet wide and seven high, which is afterwards to be enlarged by the ordinary means to the size mentioned above. It has already been ascertained that each of the two machines, at opposite ends of the tunnel, will excavate to the extent of twenty-two feet a day, and it is thus estimated that the whole excavation will be completed in four years. The rocks which it is supposed will be met with are gypsum, limestone, and quartz in veins. Of the effects of such an undertaking, there can be but one opinion. It would form a new highway for the diffusion of moral and political

blessings all over the continent. The very fact that the idea originated in Sardinia, is a striking instance of the good that is wrought by a free government, and presents a brilliant contrast to the gloomy rule of the papacy, which totally prohibits the formation of railways in the States of the Church. We have fears for the early completion of this project, but our best wishes arise for its success.

And now let the traveller, before he proceeds on his way, pause, and take his last glimpse of the Alps-those mighty masses which, during successive weeks, have been gazed on again and again, formed the subject of our hourly conversation, enkindled emotions which no words can express, and even haunted in forms of beauty and sublimity our nightly dreams. Ye monarchs of olden Europe, though reluctance rises strongly within us, we must bid you farewell! Farewell to your snow-capped domes, your sky-piercing aiguilles, your lightning-riven crags, your smiling valleys, your spacious ice-fields, your awful ravines, your mantling clouds. Immense, indeed, are the ages that have elapsed from the first period when ye emerged, probably as an archipelago of low islands, in a tropical climate, to that epoch when the plants and animals which lived upon you indicated a Mediterranean temperature, and then to that Arctic time

in which we have gazed on your heights and your depths. What changes, too, have passed, to convert the Alps of the earliest glacial period into those which we now contemplate! With a voice the most eloquent and impressive, do ye speak of Time and of Power; and as we listen we feel that we stand in the inmost shrine of their temples.. Our conceptions of the grand, the beautiful, the terrific, the enduring, have all been expanded since we first gazed upon ye. Far more wisdom might be gained by him who has been presented at your courts, and trod your spacious halls, and held communion with your mystic spirits, than by the visitant of earth's most gorgeous palaces. While puny man is struggling all around-setting up and pulling down-with a fickleness of which your own mists are a symbol, ye stand forth in all your glory unchanged. Unchanged! did we say? We recall the word. On the works of Nature herself, throughout the habitable globe, is written Mutability. Like the entire aspect of the earth, whether waste or cultivated, peopled or solitary, ye are perpetually undergoing transformation. And as "no man ever bathed twice in the same river," so, though the process is slower, no two generations of inhabitants or visitants ever behold ye in the same character, colour, and shape; and the day will doubtless come when ye, the mountains of Switzerland and Italy, shall be only things of the past!-Farewell!

CHAPTER XLIII.

ALESSANDRIA-THE FIELD OF MARENGO-GENOA-RIVIERA-NICE.

FROM Asti, the road lies over the rich undulating country on the left side of the Tanaro, which winds among the hills to Alessandria, distant by the road about twentysix miles. This is a handsome city, containing about 30,000 inhabitants. It is said to derive its name from Pope Alexander III., by whom it was made an episcopal see in 1168. To this has been added the surname of Della Paglia,-the natives say, on account of the fertility of the country; others, that it was given to it in contempt by Frederick Barbarossa; a third explanation is, that it was customary to crown here, with a straw diadem, the emperor elect; and a fourth, that the inhabitants, for want of wood, are obliged to heat their ovens with straw! The reader may choose between these explanations.

The city has been famous for the sieges it has sustained, although it has been repeatedly taken. But the wars of other times are now forgotten in the more recent events which have given celebrity to the field of Marengo. On the bare plain of the Tanaro, Napoleon gained that decisive victory over the Austrians, which takes its name from a village about a league from the city. On the surrender of Alessandria the conqueror made it a condition, that its walls should be destroyed; and the masses of ruin which they present, show that they must once have been capable of making a stout defence. The citadel was formerly reckoned one of the strongest places in Europe.

In its general effect, one traveller tells us, "Alessandria pleases us more than any other town in this part of the country. The streets, especially that of Marengo, are spacious, airy, and well-built. Its principal square is very handsome, and planted all round with double rows of acacia, under the spreading shade of which the people lounge on benches, and the fruit and vegetable women range their stalls and baskets. The churches are handsome, though not as richly adorned as at Turin. The bridge over the Tanaro is covered, and has the effect of a fine corridor. The shops display the usual abundance of food and manufactures, but little of fancy or ornament. The people are frank and civil, and the women more studious of dress than their lively-looking neighbours of Asti. Very bright stuffs of various colours, fancifully made, large gold necklaces and ear-rings, braided hair fastened with ornamented bodkins, form the attractive costume of even the market-women."

The hotel in the Contrada di Marengo is highly praised by this traveller. The diningroom, with its well-painted ceiling, halls tastefully frescoed, and magnificent pier-glasses, would be thought handsome for a ball-room in England. The dinner would have "shamed an alderman's feast," comprising every luxury from every Italian state, with steaks of beef and joints of mutton to suit the taste of Milor Anglais. With this abundance were united the requisites of cleanliness, alert attendance and moderate charges. Altogether, this traveller was charmed with Alessandria and its inhabitants.

About a mile from the town the route crosses, by a neat bridge, the broad and rapid Bormido, which flows into the Tanaro; and, half a league further, reaches the albergo of Marengo. The obelisk erected on the spot where Desaix fell has been taken down by order of his Sardinian majesty; and no trophy of victory or trace of conflict now remains on these tranquil plains. Marengo and the neighbouring town of Toro are said to have been of some note in early times; and many ancient vestiges remained, before Alessandria drew away their population and reduced them to inconsiderable hamlets.

In the progress of the Emperor and Empress of France, in 1805, a splendid pageant took place on the fields of Marengo, where the destinies of Italy had so recently been fixed. Here thirty-four battalions and seven squadrons were assembled to imitate the manoeuvres of the battle which had given it immortality; while the emperor and empress, seated on a lofty throne, which overlooked the whole field, were to behold, in mimic war, the terrible scenes which once had occurred upon it.

The day was bright and clear; the soldiers, who from daybreak had been on the ground, impatiently awaited the arrival of the hero; and shouts of acclamation rent the sky when he appeared with the empress, in a magnificent chariot drawn by eight horses, surrounded with all the pomp of the empire, and ascended the throne before which the manoeuvres were to be performed. Many of the veterans who had been engaged in the action were present, among whom the soldiers distinguished in an especial manner Marshal Lannes, who had borne so large a portion of the brunt of the imperialist attack in that terrible strife.

After the feigned battle was over, the soldiers defiled before the emperor, upon the most distinguished of whom he conferred, amidst the loud acclamations of their comrades, the crosses and decorations of the Legion of Honour. The splendid equipments of the men, the proud bearing of the horses, the glitter of gold and steel which shone forth resplendent in the rays of the declining sun, and the interesting associations connected with the spot, produced an indelible impression on the minds of the spectators, and contributed not a little to fan the military spirit among the indolent youth of Italy, whom Napoleon was so desirous to rouse to more manly feelings prior to the great contest with Austria, which he foresaw was approaching.*

"The first sight of Genoa from the sea," remarks Mr. Simond, "is certainly very fine; and we saw it under favourable circumstances, when the last rays of the setting sun shed over it the richest golden tints of evening. Two gigantic piers project into the sea, and a lighthouse of stupendous proportions stands picturesquely on the point of a rock. An abrupt hill rises behind, bare and brown, and speckled all over with innumerable white dots, being country houses within the walls. This hill, which, in a semicircle of twelve miles, contains many times more ground than the town covers, is so completely burnt up, that its colour has been compared to that of a crême au chocolat. As to the celebrated amphitheatre of palaces, said to be displayed from the sea, they are scarcely visible behind the red and green buildings which surround the port, themselves hid in part by a huge wall standing between them and the water. The interior of the town consists of extremely narrow streets, mere lanes, eight or ten feet wide, between immensely high palaces. When you look up, their cornices appear almost to touch across the street, scarcely leaving a strip of blue sky between. These streets, too steep as well as too narrow for carriages, are at least clean, cool, and quiet. Many of them have in the middle a brick causeway two or three feet wide, for the convenience of mules and of porters going up loaded; for they are not practicable for carts. The sides are paved with flat stones for the convenience of the numerous walkers. Two streets are accessible to carriages. One of them, the Strada Balbi, is entirely formed of palaces more magnificent

• Alison.

than those of Rome, neater certainly, and less gloomy and neglected; but, when I say neater, I mean the interior, for the gates are, in the same manner, a receptacle of filth. These palaces are each built round a court, and the best apartments are on the third floor, for the benefit of light and air. The roof, being flat, is adorned with shrubs and trees, as myrtle, pomegranate, orange-trees, lemon-trees, and oleanders twenty-five feet high, growing not in boxes only, but in the open ground several feet deep, brought hither and supported on arches. Fountains of water play among these artificial groves, and keep up their verdure and shade during the heat of summer. Some of the terraces, on a level with apartments paved with the same marble, decorated with the same plants, and lighted at night, appear to be a continuation of the rooms; but, looking up, you see the stars overhead, instead of a painted ceiling.

"A plan of the city in the year 1364, still extant, is curious, from the number of fortified dwellings and high towers for the purpose of defence, during the mad period of domestic warfare between the Guelphs and Ghibelines. These structures have wholly disappeared, and a new architectural progeny has succeeded, remarkable for beauty, taste, and magnificence, but not for strength. Neither Rome nor Venice offers anything comparable with the profusion of marble columns, marble statues, marble walls, and marble stairs, of whole rows of palaces here, or with the pictures which they contain. Genoa exhibits fewer remains of ancient splendour than Venice, but more actual wealth and comfort. We read of the decline of Genoa, but we see that of Venice. The churches here appear nothing after those of Rome; yet several of them would be beautiful, if less profusely gilt and over-fine. The Annonciata, for instance, suggested the idea of a gold snuff-box. The walls of some of these churches, in the interior, are striped with red and white marble; but the cathedral is striped outside with red and black.

"A bridge, one hundred feet high, unites two elevated parts of the town, passing with three giant strides over houses six stories high, which do not come up to the spring of the arches. This is the work of one of the princely citizens of Genoa in the sixteenth century. The same individual, or one of the same family, the Sauli, erected at the end of the bridge a noble structure in the best taste, the church of Santa Maria Carignana; the architect was Perugino. Four colossal statues by Puget adorn the nave; but affectation and exaggeration appeared to me the most conspicuous features of these chefs-d'œuvre. It is certainly well worth while to go up to the cupola, for the extensive view over land and sea, mostly over the semicircular and amphitheatrical space enclosed by the walls of the town; a wide area interspersed with villas, with terraces, with meagre groves of the pale olive, and here and there a greener patch of orange-trees and vineyards. The houses stand, as Italian country-houses generally do, in conspicuous nakedness, with only a straight avenue of clipped trees, tortured into all sorts of shapes, before them. They are inhabited only in spring and autumn, three weeks or a month at each time; and it is really something in favour of the good taste of the natives, that they do not seem to like those places."

The very different impressions which Genoa makes upon different travellers, are, perhaps, sufficiently accounted for by its being sometimes visited in the way to Florence and the south, and sometimes merely touched at on the return route. Mr. Brockedon remarks, that "Genoa generally disappoints the traveller's expectation," and he thinks, that the title of superb has been improperly bestowed upon it. "The palaces," he says, "have the representation, rather than the reality of architectural enrichment. Columns, porticoes, pediments, and architraves, statues, and arabesques, are painted on the façades, and sometimes even upon tawdry pink and yellow grounds; and what appears to be splendour is only pretence." Mr. Forsyth, giving a different rendering to the honorary epithet by which the city was once distinguished,