Travels through France and Italy

In Short

Tobias Smollett’s travel memoir chronicles his journey across France to the Italian peninsula, driven by a search for health, escape, and literary observation. Moving from Boulogne to Paris, through Lyons and Nîmes, and onward to Nice, Florence, and Rome, the author details the gritty mechanics of eighteenth-century travel. He evaluates local food, regional wines, accommodation prices, and taxation schemes with the same unvarnished frankness he applies to Roman ruins and French social customs. Written in a series of detailed letters, the work has endured because it strips away grand romantic notions of the Grand Tour, substituting a brilliantly opinionated, hyper-observant snapshot of European daily life on the brink of the modern era.

The Story

The narrative opens with the author taking leave of England, crossing the English Channel from Dover to Boulogne in a cramped, miserable Folkestone cutter. Upon landing, he confronts the realities of continental travel: extortionate packet captains, territorial French watermen, and local customs officials who impound his personal library. Rather than succumbing to despair, he turns a clinical eye toward his surroundings. He observes the fishing culture and economic struggles of the Boulonnais peasants, noting how local governance, severe poverty, and arbitrary legal pardons shape the moral landscape of the town.

Moving south toward Paris, the author experiences the financial friction of being a foreign traveler. He hires lodgings in the Faubourg Saint-Germain, rents carriages, and engages local valets whom he views with deep suspicion. Yet, despite cold winds and damp grass, he finds that the journey surprisingly fortifies his fragile health. Pushing further into the provinces, he reaches Lyons and Nîmes, where he marvels at the surviving architecture of the Roman Empire. The ancient amphitheater, baths, and expansive stone aqueducts of Nîmes draw his genuine admiration, offering a stark contrast to what he regards as the frivolous, over-ornamented taste of contemporary French architecture.

Establishing a semi-permanent base in Nice, the author delivers a thorough accounting of local geography, climate, and domestic economy. He details the exact prices of Languedoc and regional wines, explains the traditional methods of foot-pressing grapes and milling olives, and analyzes the political history of Savoy. His domestic peace is periodically broken by coastal excursions along the Riviera. Navigating the treacherous waters around Capo di Noli in a rowed gondola, he observes the devout routines of his superstitious Italian crew, who sing hymns to the Virgin while adhering strictly to fast days.

The final leg of his journey brings him into the heart of Italy. Passing through Genoa—where he observes impoverished noblemen residing in marble palaces—he continues to Florence and Rome. In the Papal States, he assumes the role of an exacting antiquarian. He meticulously measures the Colosseum, scrutinizes the dimensions of St. Peter's Basilica compared to ancient temples, and examines rare manuscripts inside the Vatican Library. Throughout his return loop through Marseilles and the French countryside, he remains a fierce critic of administrative corruption, onerous taxes like the salt gabelle, and the extortionate rates charged to English tourists. The narrative concludes back in Nice, offering a complete, unsparing ledger of an eighteenth-century intellectual's encounters with the Continent.

How It Unfolds

The voyage begins Leaving Dover in a claustrophobic cutter, the traveler endures a rough, sleepless night on the sea only to be transferred to a leaky French boat off the coast of Boulogne. He lands cold, drenched, and immediately plunged into the frustrations of foreign customs and local monopolies.

Observations in the Boulonnais Settling temporarily in Boulogne, he recovers his confiscated books through diplomatic intervention and documents the harsh lives of the local peasantry. He observes the corrupting effects of arbitrary justice and records instances of severe violence among the impoverished population.

Journey through the French provinces Travelling through Paris, Lyons, and Nîmes, he assesses the physical toll of the climate on his body while evaluating French military pride, local cuisine, and Roman antiquities. The massive stone aqueducts and ancient baths of Nîmes inspire his deep respect for classical engineering.

Life and economy in Nice Establishing a residence in Nice, he turns his pen to domestic management, cataloging the costs of housing, poultry, and local wines. He outlines the step-by-step agricultural processes behind pressing olive oil and fermenting grapes, warning against the adulterations of dishonest wine merchants.

Seafaring along the Riviera Embarking on a coastal voyage toward Genoa in an open rowboat, he navigates dangerous cliffs at Capo di Noli and observes the daily habits of his crew. He notes their strict religious devotion on meatless days alongside their total fear of coastal storms.

Encountering Italian antiquity Arriving in Rome and Florence, he visits the Colosseum, the Vatican Library, and public religious processions. He spends his days calculating the physical dimensions of ancient monuments, comparing modern papal architecture to classical ruins, and documenting the steep fees demanded by local innkeepers and guides.

The People

The Scottish Doctor A deeply observant, pragmatic traveler seeking relief from chronic respiratory ailments and personal grief. He wants clear accounting, physical cleanliness, rational governance, and honest trade wherever he travels. What stands in his way is a constant succession of extortionate innkeepers, damp weather, arbitrary taxes, and local customs he views as absurd or unsanitary. Through his journeys, he remains unyielding in his standards, yet evolves into a formidable authority on Mediterranean microclimates, classic architecture, and regional economies.

The Continental Tradesmen and Servants A recurring cast of post-masters, boat captains, valets de place, and landlords who encounter the traveler at every stop. They want to extract the maximum financial return from wealthy foreign tourists, utilizing local customs and padded bills to secure their livelihood. Standing in their way is the traveler’s stubborn refusal to be cheated without lodging a detailed written protest. They remain a constant, frustrating boundary line between the foreign visitor and the authentic life of the regions he traverses.

The Peasantry and Mariners The working-class populace of southern France and the Ligurian coast, including the rowers who propel the traveler’s boat along the rocky shores. They want basic survival, protection from oppressive landlords, and divine safety on the seas. They face crippling taxation, severe physical labor, and the unpredictable dangers of Mediterranean weather. Their unyielding religious devotion and traditional habits provide a vivid contrast to the traveler's cool, Protestant rationality.

In Its Own Voice

"The cabin was so small that a dog could hardly turn in it, and the beds put me in mind of the holes described in some catacombs, in which the bodies of the dead were deposited, being thrust in with the feet foremost..."

The author describes the wretched accommodations aboard the Folkestone cutter during his initial crossing to France.

"There is a substantial burgher in the High Town, who was some years ago convicted of a most barbarous murder... but was pardoned by the interposition of the governor of the county, and carries on his business as usual in the face of the whole community."

A stark observation on the uneven application of justice and political patronage in the French provinces.

"The Colossaeum or amphitheatre built by Flavius Vespasian, is the most stupendous work of the kind which antiquity can produce."

A direct impression of Rome's greatest ancient landmark, highlighting the author's lifelong fascination with classical antiquity.

What It's Really About

Behind the detailed accounting of post-horses, lodging costs, and Roman brickwork lies an investigation into how societies organize themselves and treat their people. The book contrasts the political structures, economic systems, and religious practices of absolute monarchies with the author's British constitutional ideals. It constantly asks what constitutes true civilization: is it found in the gilded palaces of impoverished Genoese nobles, the elaborate religious pageantry of Roman streets, or in the practical, clean, and equitable administration of public life? The narrative weighs the oppressive weight of French taxation schemes—like the salt gabelle—against the physical misery of the peasantry, arguing that arbitrary power inherently stifles human industry, public hygiene, and moral decency.

Why Read It Today

This travelogue appeals to readers who prefer grit, humor, and sharp-eyed social criticism over idealized romantic descriptions. It feels refreshingly modern in its skepticism; the author functions as an early, highly opinionated consumer advocate who refuses to admire a landmark or an inn simply because previous writers praised it. Reading it offers an immersive, unvarnished look at eighteenth-century Europe—complete with the dust of the roads, the foul odors of unventilated inns, the taste of adulterated wine, and the raw thrill of sighting Rome’s ancient monuments for the first time.

The reader must navigate certain historical difficulties, including lengthy passages of architectural measurements, archaic financial calculations involving livres, paoli, and sequins, and eighteenth-century prejudices regarding foreign cultures and religious institutions. Yet what stays with you is the distinct, uncompromising voice of its author. He is a man suffering from ill health who nevertheless meets every physical hardship with intellectual vigor, recording the world exactly as he finds it rather than as he was told it ought to be.