Monthly Review of Literature* 320 



found herself for ever separated from the object of her love, by the impenetra- 

 ble barrier of the convent. The following are descriptions of the scenery on 

 the coast of the gulf of Genoa, in the neighbourhood of Cimies, and of the 

 monastery itself : 



" What in nature is more magnificent than this road which is designated 

 the Corniche, and which, in my time, was little more than a ledge over the 

 precipices for the foot of the goat or the mule ? It is here that the Alps 

 extend themselves to the sea, not coming down with gentle slopes, but boldly 

 and 'abruptly, presenting to the mariner, precipices of granite, or perhaps 

 marble, in some places of three or four or more thousands of feet ; these rocks, 

 extend ing themselves in lengthened promontories into the sea, forming beautifu 

 small bays, and having for the most part some picturesque town of unknown 

 antiquity fixed either at the end of each promontory, or the bottom of the bay. 

 Add to these deep ravines, through which pour, or rather rush, copious 

 mountain torrents, woods of infinite depth and shade, castles and convents 

 scattered here and there, and vestiges even of times before the Christian era ; 

 for it is on a point of one of these promontories, a culminating point which com- 

 mands on one side the hills of France and the bay of Antibes, and old Vente 

 Mighlia, Bordegherra, and Ezza, with many other cities of ancient Liguria on 

 the other, that stands the Trophoea Augusta, still commanding though in 

 ruin ; and when th,ese images are all brought together, what more can be 

 contributed of beautiful and wonderful to form a series of scenes most astonish- 

 ing to the eye ? 



"The site of the monastery of Cimies is in the centre of that ancient Roman 

 city, which was built on an eminence near where the Cemmenos Mountains, 

 or Maritime Alps, are terminated by the sea. The original name of the town 

 was Cimnelion, a name compounded of Cemmenos and Ilion, thus bringing 

 together past and present ages in one point of view, for here was a compara- 

 tively modern Ilion, though now in ruins. To give an idea, to one who has 

 never gone beyond the sea-girt borders of his native island, of the sort of 

 country in which Cimies is situated, would, I conceive, be almost impossible. 

 Description is a poor thing, unless to restore that which has been seen, or 

 something like it ; nevertheless, I will do what in me lies to describe this 

 .place of severe and retributive suffering to me. 



"The comparatively rude fabric of superstition in which I had taken refuge had 

 been first raised in that place, on the ruins of the ancient Cimies, as long back 

 I apprehend as the Carlovingian era. The city had stood on a bold and 

 broken ledge of rock, partially covered with soil, near where the Maritime Alps 

 are washed by the Mediterranean ; this ledge being separated on the east [from 

 other abrupt and rugged heights by the stony bed called Paglion, which is 

 sometimes so dry as to be passed without the fear of wetting even the soles 

 of a lady's slipper, and again becomes the channel of a tide so fierce, rushing 

 from the snowy mountains in the back ground, as to force back and to disturb 

 the waters of the ocean. 



"The comparatively modern town of Nice lies at the mouth of the Paglion ; 

 and a little to the left of Nice is the hill and fort of Montaulban, so often 

 spoken of in the records of the dark ages. 



" To the north and west of Cimies are rugged heights, tumbled one upon 

 another, in a manner to baffle the most skilful topographer, and intersected 

 with deep ravines, of which some are so narrow as well to deserve the epithet 

 of the dark valleys bestowed on them. The soil is every where rugged and 

 stony ; not a blade of grass is to be observed, but a number of beautiful 

 saxifrages and flowering shrubs, the almond, the aloe, and the caroube being 

 frequent. Here also are vast fields of olive trees, and not unseldom a 

 country house, painted with some brilliant fresco, with overhanging roofs 

 flanked with clumps of shapely cypress, and stiff gardens of orange and citron 

 tress, is seen perched on heights which no vehicle, not having wings, could 

 ever be expected to attain. The whole region is intersected by narrow lanes. 



