A life of travel

Carlo Vidua

Carlo Vidua, the Count of Conzano, was born in 1785, in Casale Monferrato, to Count Pio Gerolamo and Marianna Gambera. But while his family circumstances were comfortable, his infancy was not an easy one. When he was four his mother died and, although he was brought up by his father’s second wife Enrichetta d’Agliano, the authoritative maternal figure in his life was partially replaced by his grandmother Paola. It was nevertheless his grandfather, Fabrizio Gambera, who kindled young Carlo’s imagination and passion for travel. According to Cesare Balbo, “on hearing mention of the Antipodes, he was found not long afterwards digging in the garden to, in his own words, go and find them”.

What is certain is that travel was to be the only real achievement in an intense but somewhat inconsequential life. Until he was nineteen, Carlo was educated by Don Giuseppe Mortara, a young clergyman from Casale who went on to become a canonist penitentiary. Carlo was taught Italian, French and Latin, proving to be a good pupil and beginning his law studies at just 14 years old. But Vidua revealed his eclectic disposition even at this early age: he studied music and became rather more than an amateur; he was a keen horse rider, fencer and dancer, but here his gangly, fragile frame let him down.

The first turning point in his life came in 1804. At the age of nineteen, Vidua moved to Turin to study law. His teacher was abbot Luigi Bessone, who Carlo was to remember as “a great expert not only on the laws but, somewhat rare in Italy, on their history too, which is so important”. He and Casimoro Massimino, another student, became friends.

In 1806 Carlo Vidua was elected a member of the “Società dei Concordi” in Turin. Conzano, the family’s country residence, became something of cultural salon for the members of the “Società”, or in other words some of the most talented young intellectuals from Piedmont: Luigi Provana, Luigi Ornato, Ferdinando and Cesare Balbo, Carlo Guasco, Roberto d’Azeglio.

Europe, Egypt

For Carlo Vidua, the period under Napoleon was long and traumatic: should he devote himself to literature, or undertake an administrative or military career? That was the question. And it wasn’t an easy choice. Vidua was opposed to the French regime and didn’t share his friend Cesare Balbo’s decision to put himself at Napoleon’s service, preferring himself to keep well away from public office. In this sense, his subsequent inclination for travel should not be interpreted as an escape, but as a way of making time to devote himself to his studies and enthusiasms. In 1809 Carlo went to Nice and then on to Provence to visit the “places of Petrarch”. On returning to Italy he visited Genoa, Rome and Florence, stopping at Sestri Levante, Milan and Geneva. Finally he reached Paris to witness the collapse of the Napoleonic empire.

He was not enthusiastic, however, at the decision of the Vienna Congress to restore the Savoy monarchy. At which point there was nothing left for him to do but study during long periods of intense travel. In 1818 Vidua set off once again for Paris. Then he went to London, Scandinavia, Lapland and from there to St. Petersburg in Russia, where he was welcomed by the Piedmont minister Cotti di Brusasco, who introduced him to the Tzar. But Vidua didn’t stop there. He moved on to the Caucasus, then to the Crimea on the Black Sea. And then to Turkey, to Istanbul and Smirne. from here he set sail for Alexandria in Egypt, where he arrived shortly after Christmas in 1819. In little more than a year he travelled round half Europe, at a time when this was neither rapid nor easy. He prolonged his stay in Egypt for more than a year and a half, but this was by no means a period of rest and relaxation. It should be remembered though that despite the apparently chaotic nature of his travels, Vidua had thought long and hard about his Egyptian visit. In St. Petersburg, following the deciphering of the hieroglyphics by Champollion, he discussed the newly born science of Egyptology at length with Tzar Alexander I. It was both an unexplored and fascinating field, something which a person of Vidua’s calibre couldn’t fail to find interesting. He was sufficiently erudite and educated to develop a passion for the subject, even more so as the research to be done wasn’t on paper, but in loco in the form of archaeology.

The Drovetti affair

Although, as we will see, Vidua devoted himself in earnest and with a great sense of intuition to the study and discovery of Egyptian antiquities, his most important enterprise was in the field of diplomatic and commercial relations. On January 9 1820, Vidua met Count Bernardino Drovetti, the French consul in Cairo, marking the start of the so-called “Drovetti Affair”. The consul possessed the richest collection of Egyptian antiquities in existence, the ideal core around which to establish an Egyptian Museum in Turin and promote the new capital of the House of Savoy, which could not yet compete with Chambery, as a cultural centre as well as the seat of power. The project hadn’t made any progress for four years. Drovetti offered his collection to both the Kingdom of Sardinia and France, but both countries were uncertain about what to do. Piedmont was interested in the collection itself, but found the price exorbitant. As a result it was finally shipped out of Egypt only to metaphorically run aground – just as Vidua was arriving in Cairo – in the port of Livorno. Was its destination to be Marseilles (France) or Genoa (Kingdom of Sardinia)? Vidua intuitively made the right move, recognising Drovetti’s interest in financial reward, but also his attraction to official recognition. With the help of Cesare Saluzzo di Monesiglio, a key figure in the Savoy court, Vidua whetted the appetite of the collection’s owner by dangling the prospect of a title before him. But that was only half the problem, as he also had to convince King Vittorio Emanuele I, who was no longer very inclined at that point to make the purchase. Complicating matters was the death of the King and the Piedmont uprisings of 1821. What was worse, the new King Carlo Felice didn’t seem, at least initially, to have the slightest interest in the collection. However, Vidua’s persistence and diplomacy, ably manoeuvring his pawns and pressing the right buttons, successfully concluded the negotiation. On March 24 1823 the deeds of purchase signed by the Regia Università of Turin sanctioned the creation of what continues to be the most important Egyptian museum in Italy today. Only once did Vidua express his satisfaction at the operation. In a letter of 1827 to his friend Roberto d’Azeglio he wrote: “How did you like the Egyptian Museum? Wasn’t it a fine gift of mine, procuring it for Piedmont?”.

Carlo Vidua the archaeologist

But Carlo Vidua’s mission to Egypt didn’t limit itself to brokering the Drovetti deal. Vidua’s main goal was to gain first hand experience of the virtually unexplored world of ancient Egypt. He organised a tour which was eventually divided into three distinct stages: the first included his stay in Cairo (where Vidua also met the British Consul Henry Salt, who played a key supporting role in the archaeological undertakings of Belzoni from Padua), followed by his excursion to northern Egypt as far as Aswan. This was the longest stage of his journey and lasted about a year.
The second stage covered Vidua’s travels to the Lower Nubia as far as the Nile cataract and Abu Simbel, returning to Aswan in late April 1820. The third stage involved a tour of the Suez area (end of July).

Vidua’s was a voyage of discovery. He copied thirty or so inscriptions, made plans of numerous temples and shipped his small collection of Egyptian antiquities, including two Nubian stele, back to Italy. Vidua left a good impression everywhere in scientific circles. This, for example, is how Frédéric Caillaud remembers him: “Pendant mon séjour au Caire, je vis un voyageur très recommandable, M. le comte Vidua, de Turin, qui était venu de Laponie en Egypte: il avait déjà visité les monumens de la Basse-Nubie, levé les plans de ces monumens avec le soin le plus scrupuleux, et mis la même exactitude à copier les inscriptions. Nous étions ensemble sur la route de Suez, lorsque je découvris les bois pétrifiés: nous nous livrâmes à différentes recherches, et nous passâmes une journée agréable; j’écoutai ses récits avec une vive curiosité, et il voulut bien entendre avec le même intérêt la narration de mes voyages”. These poignant comments underline how the restless Vidua applied himself seriously and consistently to his work as an archaeologist. His professional approach was noticed in 1971 by Michel Dewachter, who was amazed to observe how this traveller could give such a precise account without the help of drawings. His descriptions of the interior of the temple of Abu Simbel are particularly interesting. The entrance to the temple was blocked by a mountain of sand, making access difficult and exploration almost impossible because of the lack of light and air. Although it took him four days, Vidua accomplished his mission where others had been forced to desist.

Beyond Egypt

The greatest acknowledgement of Vidua’s scientific worth came when Champillon called on him to take part in the great Franco-Tuscan expedition to Egypt of 1828. But Vidua’s restless spirit had already taken him, after his Middle East trip, to explore new worlds. So after a period spent at home, Vidua set off once again in 1825 from Bordeaux for the United States. After 43 days at sea he reached New York, first visiting Philadelphia, Boston and Washington. The new world, while neo-European in spirit, was virtually unknown to Europeans themselves and Vidua found a liberal political spirit there to which he was strongly attracted. Once more his political and diplomatic contacts were the right ones and he met the then president John Adams and former presidents Jefferson, Madison, Monroe and Adams senior. Vidua was particularly interested in the Quaker community and gathered material on its social welfare organisation. Unable to stay in one place, after visiting Canada, he crossed the United States and travelled down the Mississippi by boat, only to set sail for Mexico, where he spent the better part of a year visiting Tampico, Mexico City and Guadalajara. His aim was to reach Peru, but on learning of his father’s illness he decided to return home in all haste. In April 1827 he reached Bordeaux to learn that his father had, in the meantime, recovered. They argued by correspondence and Carlo decided to set off again for the East Indies, China and Oceania.

In December 1827 Vidua was in Calcutta, a guest of the British governor Lord Amherst. Then he set off again for Singapore, visiting the Chinese coast and finally the Philippines. In 1829 he was in Java, then in Borneo, the Molucca Islands and New Guinea. In 1830 Carlo fell seriously ill. The burns he received exploring a volcanic solfatara on the island of Celebes (Moluccas) and subsequent gangrene were fatal. Despite the medical care of Dutchman Neys in Ternate, Carlo Vidua died at dawn on Christmas day 1830, when he was just forty five, on board the ship that was carrying him to the port of Ambon.

On his death bed, after receiving confirmation from his doctor that the end was near, Carlo said: “I wasn’t dismayed, or frightened, but calmly felt a natural regret at leaving this life. I surrendered myself to God’s will. My only remorse is to think that all the material I have gathered may be lost, like the memory of my name, which I had hoped to make famous through my writings. I waited too long, I procrastinated, finishing nothing, and the fame I had hoped for, or is it vanity, which drove me throughout my entire life, will only be apparent to a few friends or relations, who in forty years will be finished, and no-one will know of my existence. But I wasn’t sure of achieving this fame: travels, stories and political writings, even of good quality, are famous only for 20, 50, 100, 500 years. Some rare examples last more than a thousand years: 5 or 6 Greek authors, 5 or 6 Latin. The revolutions of the world, or its end, will finally consume everything. If only I were certain of achieving future happiness! The thought of dying far from my home and dear ones does not torment me, on the contrary it saves me from sad and distressing moments. What grieves me is dying without news of my family and particularly my father and sister”.

Carlo Vidua is a difficult person to measure. While his clearest character trait appears to be the restlessness that drove him to travel so much, to see him as an incarnation of the romantic spirit, although this is certainly a component in his personality, would be a superficial judgement. But we need to look a little deeper and ask ourselves why he travelled so much. Behind everything there seems to be an instinctive lack of confidence in the political situation of the period. Napoleon first, then the Restoration, went against his way of thinking. His moderately liberal ideas had no chance of realisation at the time, nor did Vidua feel driven, either by natural inclination or culture, to fight for those ideals which – as we know – would at least in part have found a place in the political reality of the decades to come.

Deprived of this possibility, and the sense of belonging Vidua would perhaps have felt, his restless spirit tried to find its own geographical space and cultural context elsewhere. To judge from his continual wandering from one latitude to another, from one field of interest to another, Vidua never found them. It saddens us to think that in every field he had occasion to enter, the quality of his work – diplomatic, scientific, creative – revealed an out of the ordinary intellect, one with the potential for achievements of a quite different order, had it only been channelled into a specific area of interest.