half-past six yesterday morning. Crossed the field
of battle of Marengo, a boundless plain (now thickly studded with
trees and houses), and saw the spot where Desaix was killed. The
bridge over the Bormida which Melas crossed to attack the French
army is gone, but another has been built near it. The Austrians
or Sardinians have taken down the column which was erected to the
memory of Desaix on the spot where he fell; they might as well
have left it, for the place will always be celebrated, though
they only did as the French had done before. After the battle of
Jena they took down the Column of Rossbach,[5] but that was
erected to commemorate the victory, and this the death of the
hero. I feel like Johnson--'far far from me and my friends be
that frigid philosophy which can make us pass unmoved over any
scenes which have been consecrated by virtue, by valour, or by
wisdom'--and I strained the eyes of my imagination to see all the
tumult of this famous battle, in which Bonaparte had been
actually defeated, yet (one can hardly now tell how) was in the
end completely victorious. This pillar might have been left, too,
as a striking memorial of the rapid vicissitudes of fortune: the
removal of it has been here so quick, and at Rossbach so tardy, a
reparation of national honour.

[5] The battle of Rossbach was gained by Frederick the
Great over the French and Austrians in 1757.

[Page Head: PALACES AND CHURCHES OF GENOA]

The Apennines are nothing after the Alps, but the descent to
Genoa is very pretty, and Genoa itself exceeds everything I ever
saw in point of beauty and magnificence.

How boldly doth it front us, how majestically--
Like a luxurious vineyard: the hill-side
Is hung with marble fabrics, line o'er line,
Terrace o'er terrace, nearer still and nearer
To the blue heavens, here bright and sumptuous palaces
With cool and verdant garden interspersed.
* * * * * *
While over all hangs the rich purple eve.
MILMAN's _Fall of Jerusalem_.

I passed the whole day after I got here in looking into the
palaces and gardens and admiring the prospect on every side. You
are met at every turn by vestiges of the old Republic; in fact,
the town has undergone very little alteration for hundreds of
years, and there is an air of gaiety and bustling activity which,
with the graceful costume of the men