Journal of a Tour in the Years 1828-1829, through Styria, Carniola, and Italy, whilst Accompanying the Late Sir Humphry Davy — Background and Themes
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Humphry was personally acquainted, and on whom I had called in his name whilst at Laybach, being absent. The Schloss is old and in bad repair, but we were very comfortably lodged, and contrived to sleep in spite of the noise of the hammers which were at work the whole night, and caused the surrounding ground and houses to tremble as if shaken by an earthquake.
_20th._ We set out early this morning for the Wochain lake, and as we drove along the banks of the Save, the country became at every mile more and more romantic; and upon arriving at the spot where the river issues from the lake, it seems to have reached the highest pitch of wild grandeur. Barren rocks, from four to six thousand feet high, rise up to the clouds, in which they hide their lofty snow-clad peaks. The highest of all, visible from this side of the lake, is the Skerbina.[B] The south side of the lake, round which the road runs, is finely wooded, and here and there noble masses of light grey rock rise abruptly out of the blue water, contrasting finely with the dark pines which crown their summits. The shores of the north side are formed of sloping meadows and hills, beyond which rise those enormous walls of rock seen on approaching the lake. Sir Humphry crossed over the lake in a boat, in order to visit the _Savitza_, or the source of the Wochain-Save, a lofty cascade, just seen at the western end of the lake like a glittering silver thread among the grey rocks. I drove round the banks as far as was practicable in the carriage, and then walked on and met Sir Humphry at the end of the lake, George following with the pony for him to mount on leaving the boat. We then proceeded for about three miles through fields, over rocks and stones, and the dry beds of mountain torrents, till the road became too bad for the pony. Sir Humphry then dismounted, and taking my arm, proceeded, with the boatman as a guide, for about a mile further, when we reached a frail wooden bridge cast over the foaming Save. Here Sir Humphry said he would go no further, but wait with George, who led the pony, till I returned from the source. I and the guide, therefore, went on up the mountain, climbing over rocks and fallen trees, where no vestige of a path was to be traced, till we came to the foot of a high and mouldering scaffold, which the guide told me, in as good German as he could, had been erected some years ago to enable the Archduke John to gain a fine view of the fall. Having mounted it by a tottering ladder, I found myself in full front of the cascade, which gushed some hundred feet above, out of the side of one of those enormous mountains of rock which we had seen from the other end of the lake, and rushed with a deafening roar into an abyss below, invisible from the spot on which I stood; I made signs to the guide that I wished to get down to the foot of the fall, but he shook his head, and appeared never to have been there, nor to like to go. The noise was so tremendous, that it was impossible to hear any thing he said; but wishing, if possible, to reach the bottom, I determined to trust to my own hand and foot, and after a dangerous descent over the wet and slippery rocks, I found myself close to the pool, into which the descending, but often-broken column of water precipitates itself. The height of the fall must be nearly four hundred feet, and from the transparency and icy coldness of the water, and its gushing out of the middle of a perpendicular wall of rock, which exhibits no trace of vegetation, except here and there a stunted fir-tree thrusting itself through a crevice, it is probably the exit of a subterraneous lake, confined in the interior of the mountain, and supplied from the snows of the still loftier summits. In spite of the clouds of spray and foam, which fell like a continual rain, I took a rapid sketch of the scene before me, and then returned to the guide, whom I had left upon the scaffolding, and who told me that he had descended a part of the way, shouting after me, till he was afraid to go any farther, nor had he ever been at the foot of the fall. In the rock above the scaffolding is engraved a short Latin inscription, by Baron Z----, in honour of Prince John. The view from this spot, looking towards the lake, is exceedingly beautiful and picturesque, presenting to the eye a scene very different from the one we beheld at the opposite end of the lake. The immense mountains of rock, from which the Save takes its rise, extend on each side in a wide and lofty amphitheatre, till they gradually lose their wildly sublime character, giving place to mountains of lesser height, and of a softer and more undulating form, beautifully covered with fine green beech woods, now and then relieved by a dark forest of pines, or by the lighter shades of the bare limestone rocks. Far below the spectator lies the tranquil lake, with its varied shores, partly wooded, partly fields and meadows, through which the Save, after having pursued its foaming course through the woods below the _Savitza_, is seen to wind, till it mixes its clear waters with those of the deeper coloured lake. The only traces of human habitations are two deserted huts, at some little distance from the lake, for the village of Althammer, the only one in the vicinity of this lake, is situated quite at the extremity of it, and is not visible from this point. Upon returning to the little bridge, I found that Sir Humphry had left it, and on reaching the lake, the boatman who had conducted him across it told me he had gone round the lake to Althammer in the carriage. I accordingly was rowed over to the village, and met him just arrived, after having fished for half an hour in the lake. He seemed pleased by the account I gave him of the Savitza, and though he regretted he had not seen it, he was well satisfied in having given up the attempt; and he said he was convinced he could not have borne the fatigue. Althammer is merely a collection of iron and steelworks, with the requisite habitations of the workmen, and is also the property of Baron Z----. We dined with the directors, who treated us very civilly, and afterwards drove back to Feistritz, where we did not arrive till almost night, Sir Humphry often stopping on the road to fish.
_21st._ We quitted Feistritz early this morning, and returned by the same beautiful valley through which we had before passed. Sir Humphry caught fish enough upon our way to furnish us with another dinner at Wochain-Villach, and between this village and the lake of Veldes we witnessed a most beautiful atmospheric phenomenon. It commenced with a fine rainbow, which in a few minutes concentrated itself upon one of the finely wooded mountains in the valley, and here displayed the most beautiful prismatic colours possible; at the base blue, then red, then green, never extending beyond the outline of the mountain, and through these colours we could still plainly descry the dark green of the trees. It was on the whole the most splendid kind of rainbow I had ever beheld, and Sir Humphry said he had never seen such an one before. It lasted for about five minutes, then gradually disappeared, and proved the forerunner of a very heavy rain, which began to fall just as we entered Assling.
_22nd._ The morning was exceedingly cloudy, and upon leaving Assling we did not expect to see much of the country before us, but about ten o'clock it cleared up, and afforded us a view of the same kind of beautiful scenery as that below Assling, though growing wilder and more romantic as we ascended the valley. Kronau is a small bourg between Assling and Wurzen, and the glen, at the entrance of which it is situated, seems to be the finest in the whole valley, although the tops of the higher mountains were obscured by huge masses of cloud. We here met many hundreds of pilgrims, of both sexes, travelling in companies; some returning, some going to Mount Lushari, a lofty mountain about six leagues beyond Wurzen, where there is a famous shrine of the Virgin. Those who were returning were all singing hymns of joy at having been absolved from their sins; whilst those who were going walked in silence, many bearing serious and often mournful countenances.
Wurzen is a wretched little village, a collection of a few dozen of wooden huts, situated about two thousand feet above the level of the sea, at the foot of a pass which leads from Carniola into Carinthia, similar to that of the Löbel, but by no means so elevated. The post-house is tolerable, and the view from the windows magnificent, so much so, that Sir Humphry requested me to take a sketch of it for Lady Davy. The master of this inn is so remarkably civil that Sir Humphry has determined to stay for a day or two, and to make an excursion to the source of the Isonzo, which we are told is about twenty miles from Wurzen. In the afternoon Sir Humphry went out to fish, and I to examine the source of the Wurzen-Save, which rises about two miles above the village, and is of a character very different from the Savitza, or source of the Wochain-Save. The river here flows from a large pond, which appears perfectly insulated, lying in the midst of fields, at the end of a dry water-channel coming from one of the lateral vallies. The water in the pond is exceedingly clear, and at the bottom towards the centre, one discovers a number of very large holes, through which the water rises mixed with a great quantity of air, producing a constant ebullition on the surface of the middle of the pond, the water of which is perfectly cold.[C] After leaving the pond, the Wurzen-Save winds through the valley as a beautiful clear mountain stream, passing by Kronau, Assling, and Radmansdorf, where it receives the Wochain-Save, flowing from the lake of Wochain. These united branches are then called the Save, and the river flows on through the valley of the same name to Krainburg; it afterwards passes near Laybach, where it receives the river of that name with many other smaller streams, and rolls on, already a considerable river, through Carniola, passes by Agram, traverses Croatia, and then forms the boundary between Austria and Turkey till it reaches Belgrade, where it mixes its mighty and rapid waters, swollen to a great size by a hundred tributary streams, with those of the Danube, and rolls with it into the Black Sea.
_23rd._ Sir Humphry going out to-day to shoot in the marshes near the river, I went to see the lake of Weisenfels, about six miles off, and had a famous mountain ramble. This lake is not large, but beautifully clear and highly picturesque; it lies at the foot of the Mannhardt, a stupendous mountain covered with eternal snow. I took a slight sketch of the lake, and after spending an hour or two upon its beautiful and sunny banks, I returned to Wurzen. After recounting what I had seen in my ramble to Sir Humphry, we spent our evening as usual with cards and reading.
_24th._ We left Wurzen this morning in a little carriage, and drove over very bad roads up the valley to Tarvis, a small and old town, through which the high road from Italy to Carinthia and Vienna passes. The only manufactures of the town appear to be of iron and steel. We here took another road to the left, up the valley of Raibl, along the banks of a foaming mountain torrent, till we reached the little village of the same name, where we arrived about twelve o'clock. Raibl lies at the foot of the Königsberg, a lofty mountain containing very productive lead mines, and is only inhabited by miners. There is a small but very decent inn in the village; immediately in the front of it rises a lofty Alp of very singular form, its rocky and barren summit being split into five rounded peaks or cones. Whilst Sir Humphry took a luncheon, I drew a sketch of the place, and we then set out for the source of the Isonzo, which the postmaster of Wurzen, who accompanied us as a guide, assured us was at a short distance up the mountain, and that the road to it was very good. Sir Humphry proceeded in this carriage whilst I walked up the mountain with the postmaster, and a friend of his from Raibl, neither of whom seemed to know much about the Isonzo or its source, for after a long walk they conducted us to a valley in the middle of which ran a small stream, which the postmaster declared was the Isonzo. This, however, both to Sir Humphry and me, appeared impossible on comparing its situation and direction with that of the Isonzo, as traced on our maps, and after a long discussion with the postmaster and his friend, the latter admitted they were wrong, and that it was the Pless, or Fletzbach, a little mountain river, a tributary stream of the Isonzo, whose source, from all the information we could gain, lies in a very different direction, at least ten miles off, and in a very wild and barren country.
Sir Humphry was sadly disappointed and very angry with the postmaster, who had assured us at Wurzen that he was well acquainted with the source. We had however enjoyed some very fine wild scenery, and had seen many beautiful small cascades leaping from the mountains. On our road we passed a knoll of ground where the grass grew more luxuriantly than any where else, and we learnt that this spot had been the grave of some hundred Austrians, who had bravely defended a small fort which stood here, against the French; of the whole garrison three or four only escaped the slaughter. At that time the French had possession of the whole surrounding country, and had thrice sent to the Austrians a flag of truce, assuring them that resistance was vain. The inhabitants of Raibl still speak with horror of this action, in which the Austrians fought with desperate enthusiasm, led on by their commander, Major Hermann, who, it is said, wished for death, and if so he could scarcely have found a more wildly romantic spot in which to have parted with life.
On our return we made a slight detour to see the Raibl-See, a small, wild and highly romantic lake, from out of which flows the Raibl-bach, the stream which runs through the valley of Raibl. Sir Humphry began to fish in the lake whilst I attempted to sketch, but the clouds of evening, which had already begun to overspread the summits of the Alps, gathered so fast around us, as soon to compel us to return to our inn at Raibl.
_25th._ Quitting Raibl we returned to Wurzen, and on the following morning left it for Villach, a considerable town on the other side of the mountains. The road winds up hill for some hours, but the ascent is by no means so steep as that of the Löbel. From the top one has a very fine view of the mountains and vallies of Carinthia. Villach is seen at the foot of the mountain, and a league or two beyond it lies the Ossiacher lake, a considerable expanse of water, whose banks on one side are formed by low hills, prettily wooded, while on the other side fine corn fields slope down to the water's edge. To the left is seen the mountain of Bleiberg, which contains the most extensive and productive lead mines in Austria. It being Whit-Monday, we found the town very gay and full of peasants from the surrounding villages, who were come to a fair which is held there; we only stopped to change horses, and then drove on up the valley of the Drave to Paternian, a wretched little village, where scarcely any thing was to be had at the post-house. We have now left the limestone Alps and come to mountains of a different character, formed chiefly of _micaceous schist_. Their outlines are less wild and rugged than those of the limestone mountains, to which, however, they are not at all inferior in height, and the beautiful forests of beech and fir which skirt their bases, appear, if possible, of a more brilliant verdure than the woods which clothe the Alpine chains that we have left behind us. From Paternian we continued our road to Spital, a small and dirty town, with which the post-house fitly corresponded, but where we were obliged to sleep, it being the only inn in the place.
_27th._ Sir Humphry to-day determined to try the fishing in the Millstädter-See, a small lake about a league distant from the town; he accordingly rode there on the pony, and I walked by his side. This lake is of a very different character from those which we have as yet visited. Its banks are quite pastoral; the mountains, covered with woods or green fields, rise with a gradual slope from the lake, and although of considerable elevation, for their summits were still covered with snow, present no where the rocky and wild appearance of those of the Wochain, or of the Valley of the Save. The lake itself is between two or three miles in length, and on its shores, embosomed in wood, lie the town of Millstadt and some pretty villages. After Sir Humphry had caught a few trout, we returned to Spital, which we soon after left for Gemünd. We had a beautiful drive of some hours through the valley of the Drave, and arrived about five, but found the hotel occupied by peasants, who were giving a grand ball. We were, however, accommodated with very good rooms, and Sir Humphry passed the night very comfortably, in spite of the music and bustle.
_28th._ We could not leave Gemünd till ten o'clock, there being no horses left at the poste. It is a neat little town with an immense square modern Schloss, the country residence of Count L----, of Vienna, and which is almost as extensive as the whole town. As soon as horses arrived, we proceeded to the village of Reinweg, and came to more lofty Alps of _mica schist_ than those we have seen the two last days, and which form the extensive chain of the Tauern. The Katzberg, one of this chain, lies immediately above Reinweg, and we were here obliged to take a _Vorspann_, consisting of an additional horse and two oxen, who with no small difficulty dragged the carriage up to the top of the Katzberg, though the road is excellent; the view from the summit is very extensive and grand. The descent into the valley of the Murr is very precipitous, and this valley is by no means so beautiful as that of the Drave, though the Alps are higher and their summits more thickly clothed in snow; the fine woods around their bases are wanting, so that the valley seems cold and barren. We passed the night at St. Michael, a large village at the foot of the Katzberg, and on the banks of the Murr.
Dr. J. J. Tobin's journal opens with a frank admission: these pages were written for family and friends, and only published because others believed the public would find interest in the last travels of Sir Humphry Davy. Tobin positions himself as a witness, not a protagonist, noting that his account gains significance through its connection to the celebrated chemist. The preface establishes a tone of respectful intimacy, describing Davy's health as so shattered that his inclinations were often sensitive and variable. Tobin's role oscillates between companion and assistant, sometimes left to explore alone while Davy preferred solitude during meals or excursions.
Diction of Deference and Observation
Tobin's language consistently reflects his subordinate role. He refers to Davy as Sir Humphry throughout, never by surname alone, and describes his own activities as secondary: I went to see the Falls of the Schwartzbach while Davy dined. The preface frames the journey as a suspension of Tobin's studies, undertaken because his mother believed that in the society of such a mind his own must advance. This deferential stance shapes the journal's voice, where Tobin's observations of landscapes and towns are often presented as interludes between Davy's needs. Even when describing natural wonders, Tobin returns to Davy's condition, noting that the chemist's health often rendered his feelings sensitive and variable to a painful degree. The result is a narrative that balances personal wonder with professional duty, never allowing the author's own impressions to overshadow the presence of his famous companion.
Landscape as a Stage for Scientific Attention
Tobin's descriptions of scenery are precise and often structured around visual contrasts. At the Falls of the Schwartzbach, he notes how black rocks peep through white and curling foam, and how the water descends in a broad sheet of foam seen through two openings formed by a natural arch and a wooden bridge. This attention to geological and hydrological detail reflects the scientific milieu of the journey, even when Tobin does not explicitly analyze. The rainbow playing upon the rising spray is described as beautifully sh—, the text breaking off, but the fragment suggests an aesthetic appreciation that complements Davy's own scientific interests. Tobin's eye for the interplay of light, water, and rock echoes the observational habits of a natural philosopher, yet his language remains that of a diarist rather than a scientist, recording what he sees without theoretical commentary.
The Variable Presence of Sir Humphry Davy
Davy appears in the journal as a figure of intermittent engagement. At Salzburg, Tobin returns to the inn to find Davy already dined, and then accompanies him to Aigen, where Davy rides a pony while Tobin strolls. The chemist's health dictates the pace: on rainy days he goes out shooting with little good fortune, and his moods shift. Tobin records these fluctuations without judgment, noting only that Davy often preferred to be left alone. The journal thus becomes a record of absences as much as presences, with Tobin filling the gaps with his own explorations. This structure gives the narrative a dual rhythm: the steady progress through towns and landscapes, and the unpredictable intervals of Davy's availability. The reader is left to infer the strain of constant accommodation, though Tobin never complains, instead expressing pride in having been the companion of Davy's latter days.
Architecture and the Built Environment
Tobin's observations extend to human constructions, which he describes with similar precision. The cathedral of St. Rupert is a fine building in the Italian style, built partly of free-stone and partly of marble. Salzburg's streets are narrow and ill paved, but the houses are clean and neat, and of a great height. The palace of the former archbishop is spacious and magnificent, with a beautiful fountain before it. These details ground the travelogue in material reality, offering a sense of place that complements the natural scenery. Tobin notes the contrast between the grand public buildings and the private houses, and he remarks on the view from Prince Schwarzenberg's villa, where the Alps were mostly veiled in cloud, with only a dark brown peak piercing through. His architectural descriptions are functional rather than effusive, serving to orient the reader within the towns he visits.
Tobin's journal is best approached as a document of companionship rather than a conventional travel narrative. Its value lies in the tension between the author's personal observations and the overshadowing presence of Sir Humphry Davy. Readers interested in the daily texture of scientific travel in the 1820s will find a record of landscapes, towns, and the variable rhythms of a journey shaped by illness. The prose is direct and unadorned, offering a window into a world where natural beauty and human frailty coexist.
Reading Tobin’s quiet notes on Davy’s fading strength, I remembered trailing my own doctor grandfather through Granada’s dusty streets. He, like Davy, stopped to name every plant, as if holding them fast. That same tender attention fills Wanderings in Spain — Themes and Context, where landscape becomes a way of grieving what slows. Both books feel less like travel and more like keeping company with time.
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