LIFE IN TUSCANY.








,IFE IN TUSCANY.
BY
MABEL SHARMAN CRAWFORD.
FROM, THE LONDON EDITION.
NEW-YOR K:
SHELDON AND COMPANY, 115 NASSAU STREET.
1859.








TO
WILLIAM   SHARMAN  CRAWFORD,
Is
AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED
BY HIS
DAUGHTER.








INTRODUCTION.
AT the present moment, when Italy is the central
point of interest to the whole of Europe, no apology,
it is hoped, will be necessary for the contribution of
any information tending to throw a light upon the
character, condition and ideas of the people of that
land. The classic and historical associations of
Italy, its architectural remains, and the treasures
of ancient and modern art contained in its churches,
museums and picture galleries, have been the theme
of so many eloquent writers, that it would be superfluous, if not presumptuous, for any one not
highly qualified by learning and research, to treat
of such subjects. Avoiding, therefore, topics to
which, under any circumstances, no interest arising
from novelty can now possibly attach, I venture to
hope that these impressions of the aspects of 1" Life




Viii             INTRODUCTION.
in Tuscany," derived from a ten months' sojourn
in that country, will prove neither trite nor unacceptable.
Tuscany, it is true, with barely two millions of
inhabitants, constitutes but a small section of Italy,
which counts a population of twenty-five millions;
but the part which this petty State may enact, in
the event of an insurrectionary movement throughout the land, will certainly exercise a powerful influ.ence over the destinies of the Italian Peninsula.
For Tuscany, small though it be, is far from an
insignificant province of Italy, embracing as it does
several cities and towns of considerable importance
-Florence, Pisa, Sienna, Lucca, Leghorn, Pistoia,
and Arezzo; and thus it possesses a power and
influence far beyond what it would derive from its
limited population and extent of territory.  For
cities, important and influential in every country,
are especially so in Italy: in them are concentrated
the entire wealth, intelligence, commercial enterprise, and intellectual activity of the provinces.
Were it not for Milan and Venice, Lomrnardy would
lie supine beneath the iron heel of Austria; the destiny of the States of the Church depends on the will




INTRODUCTION.               iX
of Rome; and Naples gives the law to that kingdom of which it is the metropolis. Everywhere in
Italy cities dominate: it is only by their power that
tyranny, domestic or foreign, can or will be overthrown.
In addition to the power and influence that Tuscany derives from its cities, Florence, indissolubly
associated as it is with glorious recollections of past
greatness, gives to the province of which it is the
capital, a distinguished position among other Italian
States. Proud memories of the fame, the power,
the riches and conquests of Florence in bygone
times —of the great names which have shed lustre
on its literature, arts, science and arms — foster the
bright hopes and lofty aspirations in which Italians
indulge, of the future of their native land.
Judging from  the past as well as from present
indications, Tuscany will not remain inert if a
struggle for freedom should begin in Northern Italy.
The people, united by a bond of common grievances
proceeding from the same source, will join in the
cry of "Down with the Austrians;" and the first
cannon shot from  the fortress of Milan will be
echoed from the ramparts of Florence.




X                INTRODUCTION.
As unforseen and sometimes trivial occurrences
frequently give an unexpected turn to affairs, no
prediction of the course and result of future events
can be relied upon: still -as the liberal cause was
lost, during the late revolution in Italy, mainly
through democratic violence and want of unity of
action- should the Italians now unite, as they seem
disposed to do, and fight for their freedom under
the banner of the King of Sardinia, hope may not
unreasonably be entertained that the issue of the
apparently impending struggle will be widely different from that of the last. Wise, indeed, it is for
the people of a country which has long been oppressed, to renounce the idea of a form of government demanding for its due administration qualities
to which oppression does not give birth- and wisely will they act in seeking to acquire the power of
self-government under the guidance of a constitutional monarch.
M. S. C.
Crauzfordsburn,
March 23d. 




NOTE TO THE AMERICAN EDITION.
THE prophecy contained in the author's introduction has proved true. On the breaking out of the
late French-Sardinian war with Austria, a bloodless revolution at once took place in Tuscany. The
Grand Duke, not waiting to meet the indignation of
his people, fled to the protection of his Austrian
master. After the battle of Solferino had decided
the fate of the war, he abdicated in favor of his son
Ferdinand; but the Florentines utterly refused to
accept again the House of Lorraine as rulers, and
have established the same form of government which
was adopted in 1848. What will be the issue, depends on the brave hearts of the Tuscans, and the
laissez faire policy of Napoleon III.








CONTENTS.
CHAP.                                                   PAGE.
I. BATHS OF MONTE CATINI.......   1
II. VIAREGGIO.........    19
III. LuccA, AND THE BATHS OF LUCCA.....  42
IV. A PISXAN CARNIVAL.....                              80
V. FLORENTINE SCENES AND AMUSEMENTS                     96
VI. SOCIETY........  116
VII. THE PEASANT                                         1563
VIII. MANNERS AND LNCIDENTS......   191
IX. RELIGION.....                                    251
X. COMIPAGNIA DELLA MISERICORDIA...             282
X'I. GALILEO AND MICHAEL ANGELO.                  301
XII. THE LATE REVOLUTION.......   313








CHAPTER I.
BATHS OF MONTE CATINI.
-      ITTLE as Tuscany can compete with
some of the small (Germanl States
bordering on the Rhine, in regard
to variety and abundance of mineral' waters, it yet possesses several medicinal
springs that enjoy a high local reputation
for their sanative properties.  For those.  afflicted with rheumatic affections, the sulphureous Baths of Pozzolenti, adjoining the town
of Leghorn, are considered  beneficial.  In the
same locality also are the springs of Monte Nero,
containing a large proportion of' salts of magnesia, much frequented in the summer months,
for drinking merely. Near Pisa, the Baths of San




2               LIFE IN TUSCANY.
Guiliano afford, or at least profess to afford, a
means of relief or cure for various ills that afflict
suffering humanity. The Baths of Lucca enjoy a
still more distinguished and wide-spread reputation
-a reputation, however, probably much enhanced
by their agreeableness, in point of scenery and
shade, as a summer place of residence. But of all
the mineral waters of this part of Italy, none rank
so highly in popular estimation-either as regards
internal or external application-as those of Monte
Catini, a small watering-place, situated in the northern part of Tuscany.  These springs, which are
Crown property, bring in a considerable revenue to
the State, from the large annual export of the waters
that takes place to the principal cities of the Grand
Duchy. On most occasions of trifling indisposition,
the citizens, both rich and poor, of the Tuscan
towns, instead'of having recourse to doctors' drugs,
are wvont to avail themselves of those which nature
has compounded, and swallow  huge draughts of
Monte Catini water: which, however, as far as
plea santness of flavor is concerned, has little to
boast of over the medicaments which load the
shelves of the apothecary.
In point of beauty, the situation of the Baths of
-Monte Catini has much to recommend  them.
TPlaced on the verge of the rich Val Kievole, where
the plain terminates abruptly in a range of wellwooded heights,-the Baths offer on their northern




BATHS OF MONTE CATINI.            3
side a series of highly attractive views. Immediately above, perched like an eagle's nest on the very
summit of the declivity, is seen the small town of
Monte Catini, crowning the steep sides of the hill
from which both it and the Baths below derive their
name. To the right and left, other hills, forming a
portion of the same northern chain, with picturesquely-varied forms and outlines, enhance the attraction of the scene. But though the Baths offer
some very charming views, these sink into insignificance in point of beauty compared with those which
the sides or summits of the adjacent hills afford.
Ascending even a slight elevation in the vicinity,
and looking southward, the eye wanders over a farreaching, fertile plain. In proportion as the step
ascends, so does the prospect gain in beauty and
extent; till from the summit of Monte Catini, or the
contiguous heights, a view is gained which well repays the fatigue and toil the steep ascent involves.
Below, gleaming in the bright light of an Italian
sun, stretches out the rich vale of Nievole, blending
in the distance with the still richer vales through
which the Arno runs. Amidst fields teeming with
the rich products of a fertile and well-cultivated soil,
amidst olives, mulberries, vines and figs, gleam forth:the numerous dwellings of the peasantry, interspersed with white glistening villages and small country
towns. Here and there rises up a chapel tower;
here and there, too, amidst the sea of verdure, the




4               LIFE IN TUSCANY.
Country palace of a nobleman may be seen. To the
south and east a range of undulating hills, wearing
the misty veil of distance, closes in the view; to the
west, towering above the calm waters of the small
lake of 3Bientina, is seen a mountain, forming a portion of the Pisa n group, advancing boldly into the
plain; and to the north a chain of lofty hills-here
separating into gentle slopes, there parting into steep
ravines, crowned not unfrequently with villages and
ruined towers, rising out of groves of chestnut and
olive trees-combine to form  a grand, imposing
framework for the rich and smiling scene.
Like most parts of Tuscany, the whole country
in the vicinity of the Baths of Monte Catini wears
quite a garden-like aspect of cultivation, neatness
and care. Not a crooked fence, not a useless hedge,
not a weed, not a waste patch of ground is visible
any where. Vines fastened to stakes, or trailing
their graceful branches from tree to tree, form the
boundaries of fields and farms. In the early summer months a vast variety of wild flowers are to be
seen, many of which attain to the dignity of garden
plants in England. Amidst the long, slender stalks
of wheat, the beautiful purple gladiolis springs up
abundantly, and is succeeded, a little later in the
year, by a bright-colored kind of lupin; while at the
same time the gumcistus may be seen on every side,
showering its delicate white blossoms on the turf
around. Towards tl.e end of June the orange lily




BATHS OF MONTE CATINI.           5
becomes a common ornament of the woods and
fields; whilst with July the crowning glories of
Italy's floral riches appear in the sweet-scented
clematis, and the still more fragrant and beautiful
myrtle; both springing up under the sole care of a
kindly nature; both doomed for the most part to
bloom neglected and unseen, and to yield their perfume solely to the passing breeze.
Like the mineral waters of Germany, those of
Monte Catini are, during the summer season, much
used for bathing purposes.  Hither, particularly
during the months of July and August, flock from
all parts of Tuscany a health or pleasure-seeking
crowd.
Those who may have seen the Baths of Monte
Catini during the winter, will, if subsequently visitants at the springs in the fashionable bathing
months, find a wonderful difference in their aspect.
WVithout shops, without trade, without the slightest
pretension to anything that might be called a town,
the Baths of Monte Catini may be considered to
have, for at least nine months in the year, a merely
nominal existence. The whole permanent population of the place consists but of the keepers of a few
lodging-houses and hotels. In the vast, palace-like
Government structure, which absorbs within its
capacious centre and wings the greatest portion of
the migratory summer throng, spiders and ghosts
may for a large portion of the year revel in silence




6              LIFE IN TUSCANY.
and darkness unmolested. The stranger, whom
curiosity should at such a season allure to the spot,
would find his meditations almost as secure from
interruption from the world without, as if, like a
hermit of the olden time, he inhabited a cell in some
rocky wilderness. Beneath the long avenue of
trees leading to the principal spring, he will hear no
voice save that of the strolling mendicant, or the
more agreeable accents of the peasant, who, with a
courteous "felice giorno," passes on; and to the
few inhabitants of the locality or the neighborhood
he may chance to meet, he will find himself an object of curiosity and surprise, and a phenomenon as
rare and extraordinary as that which might be presented by the sight of a swallow in the depth of the
winter season.
Even so late in the year as the month of May,
when all Italian nature is thoroughly awake, when
the fields are green with waving corn, the trees in
leaf, the sky serene, the air warm, and the birds in
full song, the Baths of Monte Catini still wore to
my eye, on my arrival there, the aspect of a place
asleep: not in a profound sleep, however, for symptoms of an approaching animation, a coming awakening, were beginning to be visible at this time.
Through the open doors of long-deserted houses,
the voices of workmen were to be heard, as they
painted here, and whitewashed there, in preparation
for the opening of the bathing season. Into long



BATHS OF MONTE CATINI.           7
darkened rooms sunlight and air were allowed to
penetrate once again, whilst sweeping, dusting; and
polishing of the furniture' actively went on. -The
roads were cleaned, the walks were weeded, while
garden-plots or pleasure-grounds were, in accordance with the happy inspiration of some moment,
re-arranged. An air of business was visible everywhere:  I heard the note of preparation for the
rising of the curtain on the scene. As the month
rolled on, the signs of activity and of animation
increased; the very frogs, who had been exerting
their voices pretty freely for some time previously,
seemed to croak more loudly as June drew nigh-:
fromn every pool, and brook, and water-course, arose
a clamor that, especially in the night-time, filled
the air. Out came the fire-flies as the day expired,
and lit up the roads and lanes with their bright,
flashing lamps, vieing with the stars above in mnimber and brilliancy. Thus May died out, and with
the 1st of June Monte Catini may be said to tfake
off its nightcap; for the bathing season has then
officially begun.
But though the place has nominally entered on
a new stage of existence, for three weeks at -least
it bears in its aspect the signs of its old drowsy,
yawning, lethargic state; in spite of its newly-arranged electric telegraph, its freshly-opened postoffice, and its grand grocer's shop, whose shelves
display a goodly array of imposing canisters. -Un



8               LIFE IN TUSCANY.
-til after Midsummer-day, it is only drop by drop
that the Baths of Monte Catini fill. WVith July,,
however, when the bathing mania in all parts of
Tuscany sets in, the stream  of population, which
has been flowing so languidly during the preceding
month towards the Baths, grows strong and deep;
to the infinite satisfaction and advantage of the
keepers of lodging houses and hotels. With the increase of visitors, beggars multiply in number; a numerous concourse of the blind, the halt, the maimed
the sick, and ragged, all ply their trade with zeal.
Beneath the long avenue of overarching trees, a
motley throng of promenaders may be seen in the
cool morning and evening hours. Representatives
of almost every class of Tuscan society may; be distinguished there, from the cringing beggar to the
haughty peer. The peasant woman, with her blue
cotton dress and handkerchief covering her dark
hair, looks with unconcealed curiosity and surprise
at the many-flounced skirt and fashionable bonnet
of the Florentine belle. The petty shopkeeper of
the provincial town and the Leghorn merchant,
with their wives and families; the lawyer and Government official; all swell the morning and evening
concourse at the springs. Long-robed ecclesiastics
abound, from the humble country priest to the pomnpous prelate boasting the dignity of an archiepiscopal
see. Carriages dash along the drive, at a rate that
none but Italian coachmen ever think of forcing




BATHS OF MONTE CATINI.            9
their horses to achieve. Itinerant shopkeepers set
up their stalls, and solicit the passer-by with eager
looks and words to buy their wares. From the tent
erected by the migratory showman, there issues forth
a troop of dancers and athletes, bedaubed with paint,
bedecked with tinsel finery, and who, to the sound
of drum and fife, parade about with the view of attracting spectators to performances announced in
stupendous capital letters to be the most wonderful
in the world. On every side, life, noise and animation prevail.  The butterfly, that has just issued
from its chrysalis, affords an apt illustration of the
changed aspect which the Baths of Monte Catini
presented to my view, on my return there in July
after a short absence.
The several mineral springs of Monte Catini vary
somewhat in equality, but their elementary nature
is much the same. All are saline: the Rinfresco
slightly, the Tetuccio more, and the Fortuna most
of all. In public estimation the Tetuccio ranks the
first; the visitors to this spring exceeding infinitely
in amount the frequenters of the other two. The
morning scene which the Tetuccio presents, is a gay
and animated one. Beneath an awning, covering a
portion of a small garden whose roses and oleanders
are in full bloom, may be seen a motley company,
some standing, but the most part sitting, in groups
of three or four, around small circular marble tables
covered with glasses, destined to be repeatedly filled




10              LIFE IN TUSCANY.
from the large reservoirs of tepid mineral water close
at hand. Nauseous as is the beverage, it is wonderful to see the equanimity with which it is swallowed
down; not in one great draught, as inclination would
prescribe, but sip by sip, in pursuance of the physician's command. Old and young, all have their
glasses before them, or in their hands, whilst animated conversations are carried on. New groups
arrive, familiar faces depart; there is a perpetual
bowing of heads, an interminable shaking of hands.
By nine o'clock, however, the morning drama is at
an end, and the drinkers have disappeared: around
the marble tables, covered with empty glasses, are
seen circles of untenanted chairs, and the plash of
falling water is the only sound that breaks upon
the ear.
The ordinary routine of existence at Monte Catini
taxes the energies of both mind and body but in a
slight degree: life seems to pass away in a kind of
blissful indolence there. The " dolce far niente," so
dear to an Italian heart, is indulged in to its full
extent. The water-drinking business of the morning
coming to an end, the company separate, and retire
to their respective rooms, to drive away with a cup
of coffee or a substantial meal, the lingering flavor
of the Tetuccio spring. Between breakfast and the
bathing time, which varies from eleven to one, a
gentle doze is taken, either on bed or sofa, as convenience or inclination may suggest. Dinner at two




BATHS OF MONTE CATIN.          11
o'clock evokes signs of energy and animation on
every side, which continue for an hour or an hour
and a half, till, the great event of the day being
concluded, the last glass of wine swallowed, the
last apricot eaten, the company formally separate,
with the polite wish, mutually expressed, that each
may enjoy a sound repose; whereupon, ladies and
gentlemen repair to their respective sleeping apartments, doff their outer garments, close the shutters,
adjust their pillows, and enjoy two hours of blissful
unconsciousness of all the trials and miseries of life,
as attested by the loud nasal sounds that may be
heard issuing from the darkened rooms.
Not more surely, however, does the light of morning arouse the lark to life and animation, than do
the shades of evening put an end to the afternoon
slumberer's dreams. The gentleman resumes his
coat, and the lady makes her toilet afresh, as the
sun sinks downward to the west, and between five
and six o'clock the whole population of the Baths
is out of doors again; for the most part bending
their steps onward towards the Rlinfresco spring,
where, after a glass or two being drank, they stroll
about, some here, some there, exchanging salutations
with their friends; talk of the heat, repeat the latest
news, and tell of the last wonderful cure that the
waters of Monte Catini have performed. Carriages
dash up and down beneath the avenue of trees; and
horses decked out with feathers and gay trappings




12              LIFE IN TUSCANY.
are stimulated to a frantic speed. With the vanishing twilight vanishes also the gay scene, and between eight and nine, when the darkness of night
comes on, the voice of the cicala, a huge species of
locust, reigns supreme.
Within doors, however, considerable animation
prevails, for the hour of supper has arrived. That
meal being ended, those of the company who do
not feel themselves overpowered by the exertions
of the day, repair to the casino, a suit of rooms
assigned to the purposes of amusement. Here, in
a large apartment, brilliantly lit up, is to be found
every evening a considerable assembly. Some talk,
some play at cards, some read French or Italian
newspapers; others stake a paul in a gamne of
chance, called the Tombola, a particular kind of
lottery: of which species of amusement all Italians
seem to be enthusiastically fond. Music also generally lends its aid to make the hours pass by pleasantly and fleetly. In a nation gifted with such
musical tastes as are the Italians, in every assemblage, amongst the upper and middle classes, will
certainly be found both gentlemen and ladies possessing no mean skill as vocal or instrumental performers. Thus, at Monte Catini, scarcely an evening
elapses without some black-moustached, dark-haired
amateur sitting down at a fine piano forte, with
which the casino is furnished, to favor the company
with a sonata; and occasionally a philanthropic lady




BATHS OF MONTE CATINI.           13
will minister to the general happiness by singing an
opera air, for which act she is sure to be rewarded
by a shower of " bravas" at the end. Dancing, too,
occasionally affbrds to the juvenile portion of the
assembly an amusement of a still more attractive
kind; rising in dignity from the impromptu waltz,
suggested by the enlivening strains of some musical
amateur, to the more solemn occasions when ladies
and gentlemen in full ball dress perform their varied
evolutions to the accompaniment of a full band.
But be it ball, or dance, or song, or cards, or simple
talk that crowns the labors of the day, the company
separate at an early hour, to prepare, by several
hours of sleep, for a repetition on the morrow of the
exertions undergone the preceding day.
Though a favorite resort of the inhabitants of
Tuscany in general, the Baths of Monte Catini
number few foreigners amongst their visitors. Amid
the crowd of dark-eyed and dark-complexioned
Italians, that lounge along the walks or cluster at
the springs, a ruddy English face, though so familiar
a sight in the chief towns of Tuscany, is rarely to be
seen. France and Germany contribute, also, but
little more than England to swell the bathing crowd,
which pours in so freely during the months of July
and August, from Florence, Leghorn, Pisa and the
minor provincial Tuscan towns. The absence of the
English element, at least, is easily explained. To
the native of the British Isles, bred up to activity of




14              LIFE IN TUSCANY.
body and mind, the indolent, drowsy kind of life,
which almost every rich or well-born Italian likes to
lead, must ever be uncongenial. To an Italian, the
one short, solitary, shady walk or drive, of which
the Baths of Monte Catini can boast, is amply sufficient for every purpose of exercise. To lounge
morning and evening under the one avenue of overarching trees, or to drive up and down, criticising
new faces, remarking new dresses, seeing and greeting acquaintances or friends, contents, as far as
bodily exertion is concerned, the Italian's utmost
desire. But it is not so with the English visitor;
who, even in amusement, craves exercise of a more
varied, active kind - a craving which the Baths
of Monte Catini can hardly satisfy during the hot
months of August or July, from the absolute want
of agreeable shady walks, rides or drives. For rich,
and indeed beautiful, as is much of the scenery in
the vicinity of the Baths, the roads and walks are
all too much exposed to the hot glare of a July or
August sun, to admit of driving, riding, or walking
being indulged in until the sun is down; an hour
too late to allow of pleasure excursions being made
of any but the most limited description. [For this
reason, therefore, the Baths of Monte Catini are but
in little favor with the numerous members of the
active Anglo-Saxon race, who, either from motives
of economy or of pleasure, have taken up their
abode in Tuscany. Thoroughly Italian, therefore,




BATHS OF MONTE CATINI.           15
is Monte Catini, and thoroughly Italian it will probably remain to the last hour of its existence, however much the migratory English may multiply in
Italy.
Though liberality is somewhat a rare attribute of
the Government of the present Grand Duke of Tuscany, this quality is certainly displayed by it in so
far as regards its acts in connection with the amusements of the summer visitors to this locality. Freely
may the stranger enter the brilliantly lit up casino;
freely may he join in the dance, or listen to the
performance of a well-trained band; freely do the
French and Italian papers lie at his command: the
light music and journals being supplied at the cost
of the "Administration," as the presiding power in
this place is called. This liberality, however, is far
from  being of a disinterested character; as, the
greatest portion of Monte Catini being Crown property, the Grand Duke's revenues are materially
augmented by there being a numerous resort of
visitors to the springs. The liberality, therefore,
displayed in providing amusement gratis for the
guests, may be compared to the sowing of a bushel
of corn with the assured hopes of receiving back an
abundant harvest in return. That the policy thus
pursued is a wise and profitable one there can be
little doubt; for Italians generally, both of the upper
and middle classes, have fortunes of a very moderate amount: and probably many of those families




16              LIFE IN TUSCANY.
who come to Monte Catini during the fashionable
bathing season, have to economize in various ways
for some time previously in order to provide the
funds necessary for a sunmmner trip. To persons such
as these-to persons, too, endowed by nature with a
keen love of pleasure, as for the most part all Italians are-the offer of amusements free of cost will
prove in itself a lure of a very effective kind to draw
visitors to the baths, all sanitary considerations
apart; but when, in addition, the highly reputed
medical properties of the mineral waters are taken
into account, it is no wonder that the place should
overflow with visitors: to the benefit not only of the
Grand Duke, whose huge hotel is amply filled, but
to the profit also of the poor peasant of the neighborhood, who lets his humble apartment for, to him,
the handsome sum of threepence or fourpence a
night.
Short, however, is the harvest season, for either
peasant or Grand Duke.  Towards the end of
August, the morning convivial gatherings at the
Tetuccio spring dwindle down considerably in numbers; by the first week in September most of the
company have departed, and the remainder are preparing to take a flight; and on the 15th, when the
Baths are formally closed, the last lingering remnants of the bathing crowd have left. The crack
of the vetturino's* whip is then no longer heard,
*Hack-driver.




BATHS OF MONTE CATINI.           17
and the drive echoes no more with the roll of carriage wheels and the tramp of horses. The awning
at the Tetuccio is taken down, the marble tables
vanish from  the scene, and the hotel-keeper sits
down to count his gains, and compare the profits of
the season just expired with those of former years.
The careful mistress of the lodging house, with a
sigh at the transitoriness of sublunary joys, takes
down the curtains of her untenanted beds, folds up
her table-covers and quilts, consigns her delf and
china to the cupboard, and closes the window-shutters of her deserted rooms: all signs of life and animation disappear, and the Baths of Monte Catini
once more lie buried in their habitual nine months'
sleep.
Long, however, before the close of the fashionable
season, I left the place, consequently my description
of its' autumnal aspect is derived, not from the results of personal observation, but from  information
afforded me by some of the very few permanent
residents at the Baths. In the height of their summer gaiety I went away, bearing with me many
pleasant rememlbrances of the place-remembrances
of quiet strolls, through fields and lanes, to humble
dwellings, where I was always a welcome guest-of
soft summer nights, when the sparkling stars yielded
in brilliancy to the fire-flies' flashing light —of
rambles through groves, where the myrtle offered
its beautiful white blossoms to my sight; and, above
2




1 8i            LIFE IN TUSCANY.
all, remembrances to which I shall ever fondly turn,
of courteous acts, kind -wishes, and friendly looks and
words.
" WVe go to bed at five o'clock in the evening in
the winter months, because it is cold, and we have
nothing in the world to do," said the mistress of a
small inn at Monte Catini to me; and I thought
that nothing could depict more forcibly than these
simple words the utter stagnation of life prevailing
during the winter months in that locality.




CHAPTER II.
VIAREGGIO.:BO-UT fifteen miles from Lucca there
lies on the shores of the Mediterranean a small sea-port town called Vi>.~_~     areggio.  Insignificant in point of
size, almost destitute of trade, save that connected with the fishermen's pursuits, the existence it leads is, for the greatest part of the
year, of the very quietest and most monotonous description. The surf breaks upon an almost
untrodden strand; the sunset glow upon the magnificent mountains of Carrara, arrests no wandering
stranger's admiring gaze; and the tramp of horses'
feet and the roll of carriage wheels are almost unknown sounds in the streets of Viareggio.
But it is not always thus; for a short season of
gaiety and animation annually chequers the ordinarily quiet life of the inhabitants of this locality.
Soon as the bathing movement has fairly com



20              LrIFE IN TUSCANY.
menced in Tuscany, Viareggio, like the Baths of
Monte Catini, emerges in the hot sun of summer
like a butterfly from its chrysalis. Brief, however,
is its period of festivity, for, unlike the bathing
towns and villages on the coasts of the British Isles,
which enjoy a succession of visitors, from May until
October, the bathing towns and villages on the
shores of Italy, can count upon but a two months'
influx of strangers. According to Italian ideas, to
bathe in May savors strongly of insanity; to bathe
in June is deemed an act considerably more rational,
but still one that sense and prudence must condemn;
and it is not till the sol leone (the lion sun) of July
is glowing overhead, that public opinion in Italy
sanctions a rush into the sea. August is looked
upon also with considerable favor in reference to
its sea-bathing qualifications, but is far from  being
-so highly thought of in this respect as its predecessor July. September puts the whole flock of
bathers everywhere to flight; except those eccentric
foreigners, the "'Inglese," who, notwithstanding
the decreasing temperature, still continue their daily
immersions in the waves. October finds the bathing boxes closed, the hotels deserted, and the lodging houses consigned to darkness, silence and solitude.
It was in the middle of July, in the very height
of the Italian bathing season, that I first made
acquaintance with Viareggio.:The approach; to it




VIAREGGIO.                21
from Lucca, is characterized by considerable beauty
of scenery. The road, for the first few miles, lay
through a country where vines, trained so as to
form festoons from tree to tree, encircled fields that
looked like gardens in point of neatness and care of
cultivation. In the ground, where but ten days
before the reaper's sickle had been at work gathering in sheaves of golden grain, young plants of
maize had already sprouted, and through the line
of trees that fringed the road, one caught glimpses
in every direction of the red tile-roofed dwellings of
the peasantry.
Scenes such as these, however, soon gave place to
others of a different character. On reaching one
side of the plain in which Lucca stands, the road
began to wind up through a kind of gorge in a
chain of hills covered with a perfect forest of chestnuts; vines, fields and houses disappeared from
view, and all the eye now saw was the bright blue
sky overhead, and the steep declivities of the winding glen below, clothed with the bright green foliage
of that tree which is, to the inhabitants of the district where it grows, what the bread-fruit tree is to
the South Sea islanders. The ascent, though steep,
is not a lengthened one; and before long, the horses,
after a short pause at the summit to take breath,
commenced to descend rapidly the other side of the
-mountains. The road wound backwards and forwards, curve after curve, in an extremely snake-like




22              LIFE IN TUSCANY.
fashion; a course of proceeding highly to be comnmended, both as regarded considerations of safety
and scenery: the latter especially, for the views
which every turn disclosed, were of a very beautiful
description, and of a highly varied character.
Below, at the furthest edge of the narrow plain,
to which the chestnut-covered hills served on one
side as boundary, lay the little town of Yiareggio,
gleaming brightly in the sunshine; while beyond,
the blue waters of the Mediterranean, sparkling in
the same bright rays, mingled in the distance with
the still deeper azure of the sky. On another side,
the fine mountains of Carrara rose up to view, their
bald crags and precipitous peaks towering nmajestically, high above the calm blue sea and the treefringed coast, and the villages nestling amongst the
chestnut groves, which closed the base and partially
adorned the sides of the whole mountain range.
The immediate vicinity of Viareggio, however, is
marked by a feature not of the most agreeable kind;
for no sooner do we enter on the narrow plain which
intervenes between the mountain chain and Viareggio, than there is to be seen on either side a marsh,
which even Tuscan industry seems not to have been
able to convert to any other use than the growth of
osiers, that flourish in company with beautiful white
water-lilies. Up almost to the very doors of Viareggio this swamp extends; a closeness of vicinity
that, it appeared to me, must prejudicially affect the




VIAREGGIO.                23
salubrity of the locality; but, according to the Italian doctrine on the subject, the sea-breeze blows
away from Viareggio every kind of unwholesome
exhalation.
Within the memory of man, Viareggio has madde
a great advance in dignity, having become at least
trebled in size and population during the last fifty
years; still, however, it will have to grow at the
same rate for the next succeeding half century,
before it can take a distinguished place amongst
the towns of Tuscany. Yet, insignificant in extent
as it is at present, Viareggio evidently pretends to
a far higher grade in point of station than that of a
mere fishing village. A capacious church, crowned
with a large dome, daily invites, with open doors,
the devout Catholic to enter; and a large, wastelooking piece of ground, covered with parched-up
grass, and surrounded by a fringe of scrubby trees,
proudly assumes the name of the " Piazza Grande."
A canal, cut from the sea into the heart of the little
town, allows boats to discharge their cargoes conveniently; and close to it, under a double row of
mushroom-shaped trees, is the favorite lounge of the
seafaring population, where neighbors meet to sit
and talk together about their good or bad success
in the take of fish, or the last news of the vine
disease, or the conscription (a word of terror to the
Tuscan peasant); and gossip also (for human nature
is much the same amongst high and lomr) about the




24              LIFE IN TUSCANY.
petty scandals of their circle —how Guiseppe and
his wife fell out, and how all Tomaso's earnings are
squandered away in cards and drink.
During the course of years, Viareggio, originally
built at about a quarter of a mile from the shore,
has been creeping seaward; and line after line of
street has been added: one row of houses excluding
the view of the sea from that which had been previously built, to be itself subsequently excluded by
a new row in a like unpleasant fashion. The line
of houses that now occupies the van-the post of
pleasure, honor and profit, in the bathing seasonhas a sufficiently attractive and cheerful appearance.
Though the dwellings are for the most part small,
yet nearly all of every size, from  the so-called
"' palazzo" of four stories to the peasant's dwelling
numbering but two, are characterized by iron balconies, by walls of gleaming whiteness, and by windows embellished  and shaded by bright green
Venetian blinds, closing externally after the Italian
fashion. Itere it is that pilgrims to the salt water
chiefly take up their residence; and here it was that
my friend and myself resolved to fix ourselves during
the two weeks' stay we wished to make at Viareggio. But moderate as were our requirements with
regard to accommodation, we found that even an
attic to let, commanding a view of the sea, was almost an unattainable luxury. " Tutta piena, tutta
piena" (all full), was the unwelcome answer that




VIAREGGIO.               25
awaited our inquiries, as we wended our way from
door to door on our unexpectedly difficult mission.
At length, when all hopes of success were nearly
extinguished, we chanced upon a house in which
there actually were two apartments unoccupied.
The house belonged to a "Contadino "-the name
applied to a man of the peasant or working classes
in Italy-but, both outside and inside, the dwelling
was very unlike a Contadino's common residence,
into which no person of civilized habits could dream
of entering as a tenant. But yet, though light and
cheerful, with whitened walls and large glass windows, the two vacant apartments had not a very
inviting aspect, in connection with the idea of even
a fortnight's residence in them. No sofa or arm
chair offered to the tired or languid frame a luxurious lounge, and the eye wandered dejectedly over
superannuated rush-seated chairs, invalided lookingglasses, which appeared as if they had just passed
through a severe crisis of small-pox, and beds quite
mountain-like in the altitude to which they rose.
Still, as the sea stretched out before the windows so
beautifully blue, as the air felt deliciously fresh, as
the waves broke with such a melodious sound upon
the beach, and as no other accommodation by the
sea-side was procurable, a bargain was struck with
the mistress of the mansion; and in a very philosophic frame of mind, making sage remarks on the




26              LIFE IN TUSCANY.
subject of the superfluities of existence, we entered
upon the possession of the rooms in question.
It must be owned that it did require some philosophy to submit cheerfully to the various discomforts
of our habitation; but after all, our stock of equanimity was not put to the severe test which our first
twenty-four hours' experience of life in the Contadino's house gave us reason to anticipate; for after
some sharp passages of words with our landlady, of
whom we thought we had reason to complain, our
circumstances assumed a more smiling aspect.
"Abbia pazienza; siamo Contadini,"* was the
apology put forward by Violante, our landlady, for
every deficiency in her establishment complained of:
when our dinner-table exhibited  a very limited
amount of spoons and forks, when our lamps nightly
evinced a most uncontrollable propensity to go out,
the same appeal to our forbearance was sure to be
made —''Abbia pazienza; siamo Contadini." Notwithstanding, however, the Contadino plea, we enjoyed the benefit of a considerable redress of
grievances: the lights increased materially in brilliancy and longevity, and the important spoon and
fork question, as well as other matters that came
under discussion, underwent before long a satisfactory settlement.
"[But, Contadini as you say you are, how do you
* Have patience; we are peasants.




V:IAREGGIO.               27
happen to have such an excellent house as this to
live in?" I said one day to Violante, retorting upon
her favorite exclamation of Abbia pazienza.
"The house was a gift to me from  a lady with
whom  I lived for some years in service," replied
Violante; " she was a countess, who had a fine
house in Florence, and so, being very rich, and very
generous and good, she had this house built expressly for my husband and myself, that we might earn
money by it in the bathing season. A good lady
she was indeed to me! buon' anima, i-nay her soul
rest in glory."
The munificent gift of the countess to Violante
came most opportunely, for through its means she
was able to support her family when her husband,
a sailor, was incapacitated from  working by an
accident, which rendered the amputation of one of
his feet necessary, and thus reduced him  to the
position of a cripple. True, the profits derived from
letting the house in the short bathing season, were
trifling, but as the expenditure of the peasant's family was on the same scale also, the one sufficed for
the requirements of the other. A piece of bread
served for their breakfast; a decoction of hot water
and maccaroni, flavored occasionally with a bone,
afforded, under the name of soup, materials for their
dinner; and their supper consisted of a dish of kidney beans served up in oil: altogether, a style of
living, it must be confessed, by no means costly.




28               LIFE IN TUSCANY.
Occasionally, however, the family fared in a mlore
luxurious manner, as I had an opportunity of observing from my window, which looked down upon
a small garden; there, underneath the shade of a
spreading vine, the master and mistress of the mansion, with a son and two daughters, daily assembled
around a small table to make their mid-day meal.
The exceptions to the general rule only occurred,
however, on saints' days and Sundays, when a dish
of fish or of stewed tomatoes graced the board; but
no matter what might be the style of dinner, no
sooner did the master of the house, the one-footed
sailor, perceive me at my window, than with a most
courteous bow he would very hospitably request me
to assist at the rural banquet that was going on
below-a piece of politeness which was invariably
responded to on my part by wishing the company
a buon appetito,>* a wish enjoined by good manners
according to the established Italian form.
In one respect, our crippled landlord was quite
a curiosity in appearance, for he exhibited almost.
an African tint of skin. Swarthy as is generally
the conmplexion of the working classes in Italy, their
swarthiness rarely amounts to a degree of darkness
sufficient to raise doubts in the stranger's mind as to
their claim to a European origin; but Moschardino,t
* Good appetite.
t A soubriquet; one of the very many in general use amongst the
working classes of Italy. I have found sometimes a man's next door
neighbors were unacquainted with his real name.




VIAREGGIO.               29
as our disabled host was usually called, might well
have passed for one who had drawn his earliest
breath by the banks of the river Nile or Ganges.
However, it always remained a matter of speculation with me how far Moschardino's oriental complexion was due to the action of the sun, or how far
ascribable to a cause easy of removal by the application of a little soap and water.
Our landlady, Violante, was a perfect specimen
of the Tuscan Contadina, the most hard-working,
indefatigable specimen of human nature anywhere
possible to find. With the earliest dawn of morning, almost before the cock had begun to crow, I
heard her voice; and she still was bustling about
long after I had lain down. HIow such an amount
of energy, of strength and endurance could have
been put into any feminine form, appeared to me a
matter of surprise; but in the lean, sinewy frame of
Violante, and in her furrowed brow, one read, as in
a printed book, a history of long years of toil.
"It is a hard, hard life, I lead," she said to me
one day, in answer to a remark of mine; " but how
can it be helped? My husband can do nothing now
to earn his bread, and the burden falls on me to
support him and our falmily. Ah! it was a great
mistake I made when I was young, to marry; but
I knew nothing then of what was before me-of the
hard lot that falls to a wife and mother. And Guiseppe, too, though he is a, good husband now, in




30              LIFE IN TUSCANY.
former times used to get drunk and beat me. Ah!
would to Heaven I had never married," she exclaimed, reiterating the wish I had so often previously heard uttered by the peasant women of Tuscany, 1"for the life I lead, still striving to earn a
quattrizo for my family's sake, whom I love too well,
is a life of the hardest slavery."
The weather set in very warm at the beginning of
the third week in July at Viareggio; yet, however
powerful might be the mid-day sun, its great heat
was always tempered by a gentle breeze blowing
freshly from the sea; whose blue expanse, ever
ruffled through this cause, never once assumed during my stay a mirror-like aspect. Still, morning,
noon, evening, night, the air was filled with the
sound of breaking waves, whose foam, glittering by
day in the bright beams of an Italian sun, formed
a sparkling snow-white fringe along the sandy shore.
Nothing more tempting-looking for bathing purposes than the Mediterranean at Viareggio can be
conceived; nor did the reality belie, in this respect,
my most ardent anticipations of enjoyment; for indescribably delightful was it to plunge beneath the
tepid sea, and to feel the warm spray of the breaking waves dash over head and face, as in quick
succession their curving crests, bursting with a roar,
dissolved in a sheet of milk-white foam upon the
beach. Little can those whose salt-water experiences are confined to the seas that wash the British




VIAREGGIO.               831
or Irish coasts, form a fair idea of the luxury of an
ocean bath under the warm sun of Italy. No chilly
waters arrest the breath, or send a shudder through
the sensitive frame; and neither prudential motives,
fears for health, dread of congealing blood, colorless
flesh, nor shivering limbs, limit the bather's pleasure
to a few minutes' time.
To do the inhabitants (both permanent and occasional) of Viareggio justice, they showed the utmost
appreciation of the marine privileges they enjoyed;
in particular, also, it must be recorded that the rising male population of the town evinced this feeling
in the strongest and most unequivocal way. Happy
boys of Viareggio!  While your luckless cotemporaries in other places and other climes are staminering over dull books, puzzling their brains over
sums in arithmetic, and inking their fingers in a laborious attempt to make well-rounded "o's" and
straight-backed "t's," you are reveling in a saltwater elysium from morn till night-now in the tide,
jumping, shouting, laughing, dancing, splashing,
gamboling away-now taking a race, in Eden's primeval garb, along the beach-then rolling or tumbling in the hot sand, and again rushing off into the
waves, to commence a new series of evolutions.
"How.often do you bathe in the day?" I once
asked an urchin of about ten years old, whom I met
upon the shore.
"Six or seven times," he replied.




32            LIFE IN TUSCANY.
" And how long do you stay in the water each
time?" I rejoined.
"Generally from one to two hours," he answered
— a reply which will serve to give an idea of the
amphibious kind of existence led in the summer
months by the juvenile population of Viareggio.
A very much more limited allowance of bathing
is that which custom prescribes for the grown-up
portion of the community; two baths a day being
the general amount indulged in by both ladies and
gentlemen. The bath, however, is very variable in
duration: some renounce their aqueous life at the
end of twenty or thirty minutes; others extend their
morning and afternoon bath each into a recreation
of two hours. Small wooden houses, three in nuniber, rising upon a foundation of piles above the
water, a few yards distance from the beach, and
communicating with the shore by a narrow bridge,
are used as bathing boxes, by every bather who aspires to belong in any way to the aristocratic or
affluent class. For a lower order-for those, in short,
Who find it inconvenient to pay the "B1agnetti"
regulation price, which runs at the rate of threepence or fourpence a dip-the shore affords sheds,
or rather screens of straw, to serve as dressingrooms, at a still lower price.
But well frequented as are the precincts of the
Bagnetti and straw screens, they are scantily peopled i.n comparison with the aspect of the shore,




VIAREGGIo.                33
where no such articles of luxury are to be found,
and where, from morning till night, a motley company is to be seen either going to, or returning from,
the sea. Here, comes a troop of soldiers marching
along with measured tread, and there, a swarm  of
shouting urchins; a guardian of the peace, in all
the pomp of cocked hat and sword, is followed by
a brace of Capuchin friars, with long brown cloth
robes, cord-girt waists, bare feet, and heads protected from the scorching sun by hats of straw with
ample brims. Day after day is the same scene displayed, as day after day the sun shines bright and
warm, in a sky where only a few fleecy wreaths of
vapor are seen to veil the glory of its clear deep
blue.
Unimpeachable, however, as are the merits of
Viareggio so far as its bathing prerogatives are concerned, it yet has two very considerable draw-backs
to its agreeableness as a place of residence in the
summer time. On the English coast, the absence
of trees and shade is a circumstance of little moment for visitors to the sea in search of recreation
or health, as the sun there exerts a comparatively
mild sway, even in the height of his dog-day reign.
But in Italy, on the shores of the Mediterranean,
where for many successive hours of a long summer's
day, a flood of light and heat is poured down uninterruptedly from a cloudless sky, shade becomes not
only a luxury, but (for all above the peasant class)
3




34              LIFE IN TUSCANY.
almost a necessity of existence. In Italy, in such
places where no groves, no avenues of overarching
trees, afford a protection from the glare and heat, a
journey to and fro, or round a room, or an excursion
up-stairs, down-stairs, or to a neighboring apartment, must perforce content the cravings of a restless spirit for motion, during eight hours at least of
diurnal existence. Such being the case at Viareggio-there stretching inland for half a mile or more,
a waste of sand, on which nothing but some prickly
sea-plants and coarse grass will grow-a walk, or
stroll, or lounge in the open air by day, takes rank
amongst the list of unattainable enjoyments. Even,
indeed, in the cool early morning and late evening
hours, outdoor exercise could only be indulged in at
the cost of an amount of toil and fatigue which rendered walking a kind of purgatorial performance;
for in the loose, soft, dry sand, which covered the
beach and extended far inland, the foot sank deeply.
Thus, between the hot sun and the yielding sand,
Viareggio enforced (except as far as the occupation
of bathing was concerned) a very sedentary existence.
About twenty-three o'clock, as the hour before
sunset is called in Italy, Viareggio, which looked as
if it was indulging in a nap all clay, begins to assume
a wakeful aspect, and shows signs of life and animation.  Bright green jalousies are thrown wide:apart, whilst every balcony has its group of occu



VIAREGGIO.               35
pants, to enjoy the coolneSs of the evening air; and
a little later, as the sun sinks lower in the west, from
almost every house along the shore, the inmates
issue to bid the day good-bye, from a favorite spot
of rendezvous on the beach, or from a still more
favorite wooden pier which stretches out beyond.
The beach is the halting place of the most juvenile
portion of the community, who, with wooden spades
or spoons, dig caverns, raise mountains, build houses,
make cakes or pies, and perform many wonderful
labors in the damp sand; while mammas, still keeping a watchful eye over the movements of their
Biancas or Giovannis, salute their passing friends,
or exchange with one another a budget of domestic
news. Here stalks " young Italy," in a light linen
coat, with a cigar in his lips, and staring fixedly,
as is the rmode universally with Italian gentlemen,
at every youthful feminine face he sees. Dressed out
in the most extravagant style of an extravagant
fashion, with bonnet hanging on her neck, with
dress swelled out by flounces, hoops, and horse-hair
to a wondrous size, the Italian lady sails proudly
on, rejoicing in the thought that her attire is in
complete accordance with the last Parisian mode.
The Capuchin friar, in his brown cloth robe, wanders to and fro, and looks with a moody air and
lustreless eye upon all around; while here and there
a portly priest, having his head adorned by a large
three-cornered hat, and his feet set off by a pair of




.36             LIFE IN TUSCANY.
large buckles in his shoes, seems from his genial air
to participate largely in all the pleasant influences
of the scene.
But few, however, are the loiterers on the beach
compared with those who stroll onwards to the
wooden pier, which offers a pleasant lounge, as well
as numerous seats to the idle throng. Here friends
walk to and fro together, or sit side by side engaged
in careless talk, while before their unheeding eyes
extends a scene that, once beheld, stamps itself indelibly on the stranger's memory. Almost on the
verge of the ocean bed, in which it would seem
about to sink to rest, is seen the sun, no longer a
globe of fire casting forth a furnace glow of heat
and light, but a ball of burnished gold, shedding a
golden radiance on water, earth and sky. The
windows of Viareggio flash like diamonds in the
yellow light, and high above the town, and far extending towards the north, tower the splendid
mountains of Carrara, with their bold summits and
wooded slopes bathed in the most exquisite violet
hues. Still further in the distance the bold headland
of Cape Corvo, rising at the entrance of the Gulf
of Spezzia, stands up in strong relief against the
glowing sky. Lower and lower as the sun sinks
towards the horizon, brighter and brighter glows
the reflection of its golden hues in the flashing mirror of the sea; gaining, at length, the line, where
sky and water seem to meet, one minute half its




VIAREGGIO.                37
burnished surface is seen above the wave, in the
next its rapidly dwindling crescent form has vanished from the sky, which slowly pales into a silvery
gray, while the purple tints upon the mountains
merge into a twilight gloom. Night comes apace;
but even as its darkening shadow falls around, a
faint roseate light begins to creep up the western
sky, as if the departed luminary were returning on
his track again. Slowly spreading, the soft suffusion rises up on high, till a large portion of the vault
of heaven glows with a ruddy light, that tinges
faintly the calm expanse of water underneath.
North, east, and south the darkness deepens overhead, while the round orb of the moon grows bright
and the stars appear. Some minutes pass, and then
the west, seemingly loath to exchange the rich livery of the day for the sable hues of night, slowly,
reluctantly, as it were, yields to the latter's irresistible sway. The outline of the distant headland
melts into the darkened sky, and the nearer mountains seem to grow loftier in the deepening gloom.
From  the west the rich tints of sunset fade quite
away; whilst the sea stretches out a dark expanse,
save where the moonbeams fling a glittering trail;
and in the illimitable depths of the dark blue vault
above innumerable stars are sparkling brilliantly.
But beautiful as was the day in its decline, the
night to which it yields possesses charms, though
widely differing, of a not less attractive kind.




38              LIFE IN TUSCANY.
Through the heated air a sense of coolness is diffused by the light evening breeze, which wafts
slowly towards the pier small fishing barks belonging to the seafaring population of the town. Like
diamond-dust gleam the myriad stars of the Milky
Way, whilst the nearer stellar worlds illuminate the
dark vault of heaven with their bright, sparkling
lamps. In unclouded majesty the full moon pursues
her upward course, marking the sea beneath with a
rippling silvery trail. High up the side of the lofty
mountains numerous fires break into view, which
increase and wane, till they successively expire.
Mingled with the melodious roar of the breaking
waves are faintly heard the joyous shouts and
laughter of young girls, seen in the distance, by the
bright moonlight, sporting in the waters of the surffringed sea. NIo sound that comes but falls melodiously on the ear, and not an object visible but seems
to add to the soft beauty of the scene, from the mariner's distant warning light in the isle of Tino,
scarcely visible to the eye, to the full-orbed moon
shining through the clear depths of an Italian sky.
Beautiful as is the scene, however, there are few
of the assemblage on the pier that give much heed
to it, further than to remark on the pleasant coolness of the air; and before long, when conversational topics grow somewhat scarce, or those discussed become threadbare, a homeward movement
takes place amongst the throng. Following the ex



VIAREGGIO.                 39
ample set, we also swell the numbers of the retreating band, and halt with a considerable portion of
its strength at a cafe, where, still in conformity with
the mode, we take our seat at a small round table,
one out of several which occupy the space immediately before the door. Knocking the table to arrest
the waiter's attention-who is rushing about with
a kind of frenzied haste, now to receive ordei's, now
to receive money, now to execute the orders that
have been received-we at length are fortunate
enough to obtain a moment's audience, in which we
intimate our desire to indulge in the luxury of an
ice cream. The much toiling individual again hurries off amidst a volley of knocks resounding from
every side; to which, to the credit of that important
personage be it said, no attention is given until our
behest has been obeyed; this done, however, he
hastens off once more in quest of a supply of gelati
di pesca and di albicocca * to satisfy the popular demand.
Very rightly does public opinion at Viareggio
flow in favor of refreshments of this kind, for ices,
excellent even in cold northern climes, possess peculiar merits under an Italian summer sky. What
a thrill of pleasure does the taste of the first cold
morsel send through the heated, languid frame! and
to what a keen sensation of regret does the sight of
the empty glass give rise! Not that the ices of
* Peach and apricot ices.




40              LIFE IN TUSCANY.
Viareggio or of Tuscany in general have any preeminent merits of an artistic kind; and in a less
sultry clime they would probably be found undeserving of particular eulogy. One merit, however,
peculiar to this land, they do possess undoubtedly,
for when, after looking steadily at my empty glass,
which sanitary considerations forbid me to renew,
I ask what is to pay, I find that six soldi (an amount
which, translated into English, becomes about twopence halfpenny) will satisfy the demand.
Beautifully bright shines the moon as we slowly
take our way towards our abode, and darkly shows
each shadow, seen in contrast with the silvery whiteness that characterizes every object on which the
moonbeams fall. The doors and windows of every
house are thrown wide open to admit the warm,
yet fresh-feeling evening air. Lights sparkle inside:
here, voices engaged in eager conversation are heard;
there, the chords of a piano mingle with a singer's
rich harnmonious tones. Outside the doors of the
lodging-houses, belonging to the peasant class, the
family of the contadino sit enjoying the fresh air.
We pass along a lengthened row of neat, wellwhitewashed dwellings to where our temporary one,
distinguished from its neighbors by an image of the
Madonna decorating the front, invites our entrance
with open doors. Before the threshold sit Moschardino and Violante, with different members of their
family. There is Paolo, a youth of nineteen, who,




VIAREGGIO.                41
to his mother's regret, is on the eve of marriage;
and that, too, with Italian improvidence, to a woman
poor as himself: there, also, is Caterina, a very
handsome, dark-eyed girl, who thinks that human
felicity consists in the possession of a silk dress and
the wearing of a gold chain. There also stands
lounging by, Mariana, a half-witted girl of sixteen,
who looks as if an abhorrence of soap and water
was the predominating feeling in her darkened mind.
All rise at our approach, all wish us "felice sera"
in a breath, and the ever hospitable Moschardino
invites us to sit down, which invitation, as the old
gentleman's conversation is somewhat unintelligible,
from the extreme volubility of his utterance, I decline. Violante hastens to bring lights: we ascend
the stairs, and after exchanging a few words with
our fellow-lodgers, two Lucchese ladies, whose apartments adjoin ours, we follow their example in preparing to seek repose.
"Felicissima notte,"* says Violante, in the soft
dialect of Tuscany; " Felicissima notte," I respond;
and, presto, clambering up the steep altitudes of my
couch, and gaining the soft and sheltered summit
of my Mont Blanc, I wish felicissinia notte to Viareggio and the whole world.
* Most happy night.




CHAPTER III.
LUCCA, AND THE BATHS OF LUCCA.
IUCCA rises out of a plain that is celebrated for its fertility; the natural
productiveness of the soil being increased by a most perfectly arranged
system  of irrigation.  Stimulated by the
combined influences of heat and moisture,
all vegetation assumes the most luxuriant
aspect. A  richer and a more productive
country than that by which the walls of Lucca are
surrounded, is, perhaps, not to be found anywhere.
Lucca, like the most of the Italian towns in the
present day, derives now its sole interest from its
past existence. Places characterized as the scenes
of remarkablle or stirring events always exercise a
kind of spell over the imagination. The cell where
the patriot has been confined, the square which has
witnessed the martyr's agony, the ground which
has been the theatre of a famous battle, all exert a
powerful influence over the mind and fancy. It




LUCCA.                  43
matters not though the cell be but four common
bare stone walls, though the square be an ordinary
paved court, surrounded by mean and insignificant
dwellings, or the battle ground be but an uninteresting-looking expanse of cornfields, intersected by
quickset hedges-a power resides in all these objects
to attract the eye, to enlist the interest, and to touch
the feelings. The captive comes before us with his
pale, thin, careworn face; around the stake to which
the hapless victim is attached rise up the glowing
flames; and the din of a murderous conflict-the
tramp of horses, the clash of contending weapons,
the cries of suffering, and the roar of cannon, resound
within our ears.
Though Lucca, however, appeals not by its history
to our sympathies in any particular degree, either
through the greatness of its power or the genius of
its sons, it yet possesses a claim to our respectful
consideration from  the high position it occupied
among the numerous republican towns of Tuscany.
Here was silk first produced and manufactured in
Italy-a circumstance which contributed materially
for many years to the prosperity of the town; and
from the energy and enterprise that characterized its
citizens in all matters that related to commerce and
trade, the epithet of "the Industrious" was attached
to its name. Even under the Lombard IKings of
Italy, whose power was subverted by the Franks in
the eighth century, Lucca had risen to be a place of




44              LIFE IN TUSCANY.
considerable importance; so much so that it became
the capital and seat of government of princes of its
own, who, under the title of Duke, exercised sovereign sway over the whole of Tuscany. The twelfth
century found Lucca a free town, whose existence
was as much disturbed by dissensions and feuds
amongst its citizens as was that of any other republican city of Tuscany.
Hotly and eagerly, as in Florence, did the Guelph
and Ghibeline factions engage in conflict within its
walls; and it was whilst these were battling together
in the streets that, in the fourteenth century, the
Pisans entered, and took possession of the town.
Throwing off the yoke of Pisa, after various vicissitudes through which it passed, from the grasp of
a domestic tyrant into the possession of a Bohemian
King, Lucca was only saved from being subjected
to Florentine rule by once more falling into the
possession of the Pisans, who defeated the rival republicans in a mighty battle which was fought in
contention for the prize under the very walls of
Lucca. To the Pisan supremacy succeeded that of
Charles IV, and from that monarch the Lucchese
purchased  their freedom  at an enormous price.
Short, however, was the period marked by the enjoyment of the costly boon, for before thirty years
had passed away, Lucca lay prostrate at the feet of
Gian Galeazzo, the tyrant Duke of Milan. Recovering their liberty once more, the Lucchese did not




LUCCA.                 45
recover with it the qualities of mind which in former times had rendered them worthy to exercise the
prerogatives of self-government; for whilst the town
still bore the name of a republic, it was tyrannized
over by a narrow oligarchy of its citizens-an oligarchy, however, which, though hated by the people, maintained its sway until the year 1800, when
the French took possession of Tuscany: an event
which was followed before long by the entrance into
Lucca of the Princess Elise, sister of Napoleon Bonaparte, as the sovereign of the town and adjoining
territory. In the same month, and in the same
year, Genoa, which formed with Lucca the last remnants of the ancient republican towns of Italy, lost
its independence also.
But if Lucca lost its independence, it did not lose
its dignity, for it continued to be the capital of a
State, the residence of a court, and the seat of government during the rule of the French Princess, and
of the succeeding house of Bourbon, down to 1847;
when, in virtue of the treaty of Vienna, whereby
the Allied Powers assumed to themselves the right
of deciding on the destinies of small, powerless
States, Lucca and the Lucchese territory passed into
the possession of Leopold II, the present Grand
Duke of Tuscany. Behold now Lucca-its liberty,
its independence gone; its name as a State extinguished; its distinction as the seat of government,
as the residence of a court, at an end: behold it




46               LIFE IN TUSCANY.
dejected, grieving, burning secretly with indignation
at the change, with the sparkl of disaffection and
disloyalty smouldering in its breast, ready at the
first favorable moment to burst out into a formidable flame.
Piety and wealth combined in Lucca, as in its
neighboring republican cities, to raise noble and numerous temples to the Deity. Some of these, erected
in the eighth century, serve as monuments of the
existence of the Lombard kingdom, by offering to
view the characteristic features of the Lombard
architectural school. The cathedral, a handsome
building, dates its existence from the eleventh century, and exhibits a facade adorned by several tiers of
arches and rich inlaid work; the latter representing
the somewhat inappropriate subject of the chasehuntsmen equipped with lance and horn, and accompanied by dogs, being depicted in the pursuit
of a curious medley of wild animals, consisting of
foxes, wolves, lions, boars and deer. The interior
of the cathedral, compared with the interiors of the
cathedrals of Pisa and Florence, is somewhat insignificant; for, though ornamented with fine stained
glass, some rich Gothic tracery, and a ceiling where
frescoes of saints show forth, on a ground of blue,
it does not at all make up by such decorations for
its inferiority to the Florentine and Pisan cathedrals
in point of size. One distinction, however, the cathedral of Lucca enjoys over that of Florence or of




LUCCA.                  47
Pisa, in that it is the possessor of a relic which was
venerated in former times ill the highest degree
throughout all Europe. Richly gilt and adorned is
the small chapel that contains the Volto Santo di
Licca,*-a crucifix carved in cedar wood by the
hand, it is alleged, of Nicodemus, and miraculously
transported to Lucca in the eighth century. By the
" Volto Santo di Lucca," under its Mediseval Latin
name, did princes and nobles swear: the per vultum
de Lucca being recorded as our second Norman
King's most favorite oath, of the many with which
lie was accustomed to garnish his discourse and to
give energy to his words. Yet, although this relic
has lost its ancient celebrity, though princes and
nobles swear by it no more, its sacred reputation still
in this day prevails so far as to cause it to be
shrouded from  the public gaze; except on three
great occasions of the year, when it is brought forth
for adoration, with a sparkling jewel on its breast,
and a gilt crown upon its head. Fortunately, however, for the passing stranger, who, except by special permission or rare good chance, cannot get a
glimpse of the sacred work of art-a declared fac
simile of the image is always exposed to view; which,
if in very truth it be what it is professed, gives a
most unfavorable idea of the artistic genius of Nicodemus.
Exclusive of the cathedral, there are eleven
* " Holy face of Lucca."




48              LIFE IN TUSCANY.
churches in Lucca, sufficiently remarkable in some
way or other to entitle them to a place in the guidebook of every traveler. San Michele, venerable in
years, dating its existence from the period of Lombard rule, displays on the summit of its richly decorated white marble front a colossal figure of the
Archangel in whose honor the stately pile was
reared. Soume fine pictures by Fra Bartolommeo
give interest to San Romano; and San Frediano,
built out of the ruins of a deserted ampitheatre,
commends itself to Irish sympathies, from its having
been raised in honor, as well as bearing the name,
of the highly venerated son of an Irish king. In
not only spiritual, but also in manual works, did
the Irish saint engage; for within this church an
immense slab of marble may be seen, which was
lifted (as an inscription testifies) by San Frediano
and his canons from the quarry where it was dug,
and transferred by the same hands to the car destined to draw it to the place where it now stands.
Of the merits, or of the characteristics, of the
seven remaining churches of Lucca, it is not for me
to tell; since sight-seeing becoming an intolerable
toil under the influence of a July sun, I turned away
from churches, Lombard or Gothic, or Lombard
and Gothic intermixed, from sculptures, from dim
frescoes, and from paintings of artists of more or
less note, and bent my steps towards the ramparts
of the town, to take a look at the works of the great




LUCCA.                 49
Artist, whose creations combine all that is lovely
and sublime: creations before which those of the
greatest Italian masters fade into insignificance.
The Piazza Ducale, through which I passed on
my way to the city walls, is a handsome, spacious
square, adorned with rows of trees, and derives its
name from the adjoining Ducal Palace, before whose
unfrequented gate a sentinel was pacing apathetically to and fro. In front of the now deserted building a monument stands, raised to the memory of a
Duchess of Lucca, to whom the citizens owed the
construction of a splendid acqueduct, which affords
at this present day a plentiful supply of water to the
inhabitants of the town. Square, palace or monument, however, possess but little power to arrest the
stranger's steps under the influence of a July noonday sun, and, passing onwards, I gained in a few
minutes the ramparts of the town, from whence
there burst upon my view a prospect of which the
Lucchese have reason to be proud. HEow strongly
does the durability of nature contrast with the instability of all human glories. Fallen now as Lucca
is from its ancient republican wealth, power and
dignity-blotted out as now it is from the list of
States, and degraded into the rank of a mere provincial town, its amphitheatre of hills is still as beautiful, and towers up as grandly in the air as when,
in centuries long gone by, the churches of San Fre4




50               LIFE IN TUSCANY.
diano and San Michele sprang into existence under
the dominion of the Lombards.
Echoing no longer with the clash of arms, with
warlike shouts, or with the heavy tread of men-atarms, the ramparts now are made to serve far different uses from those for which they were originally
constructed; for, planted with trees, which overarch
a broad and well-kept walk, they now afford a delightful promenade to the Lucchese, especially in the
hot summer months. Delicious is the shade, as,
emerging from the heat and glare of a July sun, I
stand beneath the thick canopy of leaves, through
which but two or three intrusive sunbeams here and
there can force their way; and peacefully the murmuring sounds from the quiet town fall on my ear,
as, in a solitude* unbroken by the sight of any
living creature, I slowly stroll along this enduring
monument of a sanguinary age, where human blood
was shed like water to satisfy the cravings of ambition,* the desire for plunder, or the thirst for vengeance.
Very beautiful is the view, on which from time to
time I pause to gaze. A soft purple haze rests on
the chain of hills, that like a natural rampart encircles the rich vale in which Lucca stands. Ihere
a declivity high and bare, there a verdant slope, ar*Italians say that no living creatures, save mad dogs and English
people, will voluntarily stir out of doors during the heat of the day in
summer.




LUCCA.                  51
rests the eye, whilst everywhere the graceful varying outlines of the hills are seen to stand out in bold
relief against the deep azure of the sky, and the
rich plain glows and sparkles in the bright sunshine. From the walls of Lucca to the Pisan hills
upon one side, or on the other to the more distant
Appenines, a sea of verdure stretches out, thickly
dotted over with villages and the dwellings of the
peasantry. Vines, festooned from tree to tree, encircle fields in which the Indian maize has taken
the place of the tall, waving, golden wheat, harvested more than a month ago. Art combines with
nature to adorn the scene, from the rich green of
the irrigated meadows to the lofty arches of the
magnificent acqueduct, which, spanning a large portion of the plain, advances in close vicinity to the
city walls.
But when the churches and the view from the
ramparts have been seen, the stranger, who chances
to visit Lucca during the months of July or August,
hurries away impatiently from the town; for the
heat is oppressively intense, in the full glare of the
sun, and even in the shade there prevails a stovelike temperature. At this season of the year no
Lucchese noble, or plebeian with independent
means, continues in the town. Some go to ruralize
in country villas for a while; others, destitute of
such possessions, repair to Leghorn or to Viareggio
for sea bathing, or to Monte Catini for health or




52             LIFE IN TUSCANY.
recreation; but, singularly enough, very few frequent the baths to which Lucca gives the distinctive name, although distant but fifteen miles, and
possessing in point of coolness and beauty an immeasurable superiority over every other summer
retreat in Tuscany-.
But if the Lucchese are indifferent to the charms
of the Baths of Lucca, the foreigners belonging to
that fair-complexioned race denominated "I1nglese,"
who have taken up their temporary or permanent
abode in Tuscany, show a thorough appreciation
of the advantages and attractions of the place. As
soon as the hot weather begins, carriages, laden
outside with luggage, and filled inside with faces
belonging unmistakably to the Anglo-Saxon race,
may be seen, day after day, traveling along the road
that leads from Florence to these Baths; and so
many of these vehicles passed before my view at
Monte Catini in the month of June, that the dusty
highway, on which my sitting room windows looked,
assumed the aspect, in a great degree, of an English
thoroughfare. Fully prepared, therefore, as far as
society was concerned, to find myself in a miniature
England, I leave the broiling town of Lucca, in company with a friend, to spend the autumn months
amidst the shade of chestnut-covered hills, in the
most beautiful valley of Tuscany.
Almost from the very gate of Lucca through.
which we pass, the road to the Baths is distinguished




THE BATHS OF LUCCA.             53
by a considerable degree of beauty. Following the
course of the Serchio, (a very ill-conducted river,
whose propensity for overflowing can with the greatest difficulty be restrained,) we travel along a road,
bordered on both sides with festooned vines, towards
the rich valley through which the Serchio winds.
The closer we approach the hills, which on the north
side bound the luxuriant plain, the more attractive
becomes the scenery.'At a distance of little more
than three miles from the town, stands Marlia, a
summer palace of the Duke; and in its vicinity may
be seen many handsome villas, which, though the
property of Lucchese nobles, are, for the consideration of a reasonable amount of scudi, quite at the
service of such persons as may desire to have thenm
as their summer residences: a condescension of an
extremely sensible nature on the part of the proprietors, if, as it is alleged, the hills keep off every
cooling breeze, and hosts of musquitoes indulge
without pity or remorse their sanguinary appetites.
Not far from  Marlia, the Serchio is crossed by a
sandstone bridge, erected in 1832 to replace its predecessor, which was carried away by one of the
rebellious outbreaks of the river thirteen years before. As a protection, probably, against the recurrence of such a catastrophe, the present structure,
Ponte a Muriano, as it is called, is adorned with
statues of saints of colossal size, which we hope will




54             LIFE IN TUSCANY.
have the good effect of keeping the turbulent Serchio henceforth in order.
From Muriano to the Baths, the road, still continuing faithful to the left bank of the Serchio,
gradually ascends through a fine valley bounded by
lofty hills, on whose declivities, midst olives, vines
and chestnut trees, a succession of picturesque villages appear. On the summit of a lofty eminence
is seen the Convento degli Angeli (Convent of the
Angels), founded by the Queen of Etruria, in 1815;
but in accordance with the name, which harmonizes
well with the aerial situation of the structure, it
must be a subject of regret to those of its inhabitants
who may have to pant and toil up the steep ascent,
on their return from spiritual missions in the world
below, that the angelic mode of locomotion, by
means of wings, has not been conferred on them.
Hills, mountains, river, chestnuts, olives, vines,
villages, farm houses, villas, continue to meet the
view as we proceed; but, like objects seen in a
kaleidoscope, to which the slightest motion gives
variety of aspect, each advancing step we take,
though the features of the scene remain the same,
presents them in some firesh and ever beautiful combination. Villages bearing the old Roman names,
which mark their distance from the Lucehese metropolis, in quick succession we pass by, and near
the furthest one of these we see the place where
stood, not many years ago, a bridge which the Ser



THIE BATES OF LUCCA.           55
chio in one of its fierce bursts of passion, entirely
swept away. The little town of Borgo, the emporium of the mountain commerce in silk, hemp and
wool, comes soon into view, and close to it is seen
anl ancient and extremely singular looking bridge,
to which, though rightfully bearing the name of
Ponte della Mcladdalena, the appellation of Ponte del
Diavolo (Devil's Bridge), has been popularly assigned.
Not wholly undeserved, indeed, is the ill-omened
name by which this structure is almost invariably
called, since, to the superstitious eye, it well might
seem to owe its existence to some impish freak; for,
constructed in utter opposition to ordinary rule, its
central arch is raised to such a height above the other
four that, at its summit, the narrow causeway forms
an angle too acute to admit of any carriage crossing
it. Thanks to the great altitude, however, as well
as to the wide span of the centre arch, the Ponte del
Diavolo has borne repeated bursts of the fitful fury
of the Serchio for centuries, unscathed.
Shortly after passing Ponte del Diavolo, the Serchio, just previous to turning off into another valley,
is joined by the Lima, a tributary mountain stream,
by whose side we journey onward. In spite, however, of the very mild and inoffensive aspect of our
new friend, which murmurs on musically over its
rocky bed, it would seem to partake of the Serchio's
turbulent character, for on its banks rise up the
towers of an unfinished suspension bridge, intended




56              LIFE IN TUSCANY.
to replace a bridge of stone which fell a victim to
the river's violence in 1836. Still traveling by the
Lima, along a road overhung by chestnut trees, and
bordered on one side by vines, the first houses of
Ponte a Seraglio, the metropolis of the bathing district, soon appears. On the very outskirts of the
village rises up La Maison de la Grande Betra~/ne, as
if to arrest the onward movement of the British
traveler by an appeal to his patriotic feelings. A
few steps further on, the Albergo di Londra advances
a similar claim on the cockney's sympathies; and
within a few yards' distance "Pagnini's Hotel,"
written in gigantic characters on the front of a large
house directly opposite "Cordon's Store," confirms
the English character of the locality. Dashing
along at the Italian's favorite frantic pace, through
two short narrow streets, we reach the bridge which
gives the distinctive name of Ponte a Seraglio to
the small cluster of houses that extend for a short
distance on either bank of the river.
But, the bridge being gained, our progress was
arrested by a military band, that occupied (at the
further side of the stream) a small piazza through
which we desired to pass. Except for tired travellers, the delay would have been an agreeable one,
for the scene had many features which could scarcely fail to be attractive to the stranger's eye. To
the right and left, the view is closed in by wooded
heights, at whose feet the river runs in a narrow




THE BATHS OF LUCCA.            57
winding valley; and high above the village rise up
precipitous hills, clothed with the bright green
foliage of the chestnut, amidst which here and there
white gleaming villas are seen. Nearer, the view
presents the animated scene which life in a fashionable bathing-place always offers in the frequented
season of the year. Around the band, whose members seem to do their best to display the full powers
of their instruments, is assembled a gay and motley
company. Before the doors of three cafes of which
the small piazza boasts, are ranged a number of
small tables, where lovers of music and ice creams
sit and indulge at the same time in their two favorite luxuries. Young ladies with large straw hats,
brown, gray or white, underneath which are seen
true English faces, exchange greetings with young
gentlemen in linen coats, who, in spite of a carefully
cultivated moustache or beard in the Italian style,
look as much true-born Britons in aspect as they
are in language. Here and there a sallow-faced
Frenchman, or a fashionable-looking Frenchwoman,
may be seen, and occasionally, too, a dark-eyed
Italian is visible; but the great bulk of the company, if not exactly English, (for Americans abound,)
is composed of persons of at least English origin.
On every side the rougher tones of our island tongue
overpower the soft musical language of Tuscany; to
have closed my eyes on chestnut woods, on the
cloudless sky, on houses unmarked by stain or mil



58             LIFE IN TUSCANY.
dew, on signboards with Italian inscriptions, on a
group of vetturini lounging on the bridge, and to
have judged by sounds alone, I should have pronounced myself in England.
First in importance, as well as in magnitude, of
the three villages which are comprehended under
the name of the Baths of Lucca, Ponte a Seraglio
enjoys the distinction of being the head-quarters of
the gay world of fashion. Here is the post-office,
and here also the Casino, a handsome building devoted to purposes of amusement, where nightly
assemblies are held during the fashionable season,
in a large room ornamented with mirrors and gilding. Here, under the auspices of royalty, balls take
place pretty frequently at stated intervals; but the
enjoyment of dancing is by no means confined to
such periods, for a piano which the room contains
is constantly made to do duty for the orchestra, to
whose music young ladies and gentlemen go through
their varied evolutions on state ball evenings, when
the Grand Duke and Grand Dilchess, and the young
Archdukes, deign to honor the company with their
presence. Adjoining the ball-room is another large
apartment, where the natives of England, Germany,
France and Italy, can read the varied news of the
day, each in his native language. The Casino also
contains a billiard-table for such as are partial to
that species of recreation; but no gaming-table is
seen: for by a very praiseworthy edict of the late




THE BATHS OF LUCCA.              59
Duke of Lucca, in 1846, gambling, once the opprobrium of the Baths, was strictly prohibited.
The Bagno alla Villa, the second village of the
Baths in point of size, consists of two straggling
lines of houses, which form an irregular street running along the base of a steep hill that forms one
side of a narrow valley through which the Lima
flows. Distant about a mile from the Ponte, with
which it communicates by a shady road, the scenery
of the Villa resembles much the first-mentioned village in general features, though somewhat more
confined in character. At both, the view is closed
in on every side by lofty chestnut-covered hills, at'whose feet a river flows, the brawling voice of which
is heard both night and day resounding in the air.
While the houses of the Ponte, for the most part,
however, overhang the stream, those of the Villa,
retreating a short distance from its banks, interpose
small gardens between. Essentially different in its
general aspect, the Ponte wears a gay, flaunting,
dissipated look; while the Villa* has an extremely
quiet, retiring aspect, as if it shunned the pomp and
flutter of the gay world. Here, indeed, come quiet
families, serious families, strict in the performance
of their religious duties, and families to whom the
vicinity of the English church is far more attractive
than that of the Casino. Gaiety, indeed, evidently
* In former times, the character of the Villa may have been somewhat different. as the Duke of Lucca had his residence in this locality.




60              LIFE IN TUSCANY.
cannot be made to flourish at the Villa, any more
than roses in a sandy desert; for a pretty-looking
structure, bearing the inscription of " Teatro " (Theatre) over the door, is silent and deserted, except
when the Grand Duke's band, retiring there on
practicing days, awakens its dormant echoes. Nor,
though it be the head-quarters of the musical corps,
is the quiet, serious character of the Villa destroyed
by public performances; for while the Ponte a Seraglio has its band days, and the Bagni Caldi, the
third number of the family group, is distinguished
in a similar manner, no rakish waltz or dissipated
polka ever disturbs the philosophic or religious
meditations of the inhabitants of the Villa. Music,
indeed, is frequently wafted on the air to the recesses
of the dwellings, but music it is that could never be
guilty of disturbing the mental equilibrium, by an
undue vivacity of character; as any one could testify who, like me, had lived for a month within
earshot of a guardhouse, where an indefatigable
player on the trombone daily exhaled the sorrows of
his soul in a series of the most dismal and unearthly
tones imag:inable.
The Bagni Caldi,* the third, and by much the
smallest village of the group, has its comparative
inferiority in point of size atoned for by the distinction it enjoys of containing the residence of the
Grand Duke. Placed about half-way up the pre* Hot baths.




THE BATHS OF LUCCA.           61
cipitous, hill, at the base of which the principal
portion of the Ponte extends, the 13agni Caldi
affords its inhabitants the advantages of an extensive view and a bracing air. Still, such advantages
must be considered to be dearly purchased by persons who have not, like the Grand Duke, carriages
and horses constantly at their disposal; for the approach to this exalted post is by a road which, notwithstanding its serpentine course as it winds
upwards on its way, taxes the breath and energies
to a very considerable degree, especially on a hot
summer day. On this account, probably, it happens
that, while the Ponte and the ~Villa each possess
numerous large and flourishing-looking hotels, the
Bagni Caldi cannot exhibit one; in spite of the attraction of its fine Bath Ilouse, where nature, acting
the benevolent apothecary's part, serves up a steaming compound of sulphur, iron, lime and magnesia,
free of cost — a liberality which the dispensers of
the medicated waters do not emulate.
Notwithstanding that the village of the Bagni
Caldi would seem from its name to arrogate to itself
some peculiar distinction on the score of the temperature of its springs, these latter possess the property of heat in common with four other sources,
which are equally employed for baths. The springs
of the Bagni Caldi, however, have a higher temperature than any of the rest, for whilst the warmest
of these latter only reach to 112 degrees of Fahren



62              LIFE IN TUSCANY.
heit, the former rises to 136. The waters of one of
the springs are used internally, and are sent to various parts of Italy, it is said authoritatively; but if
such is the case, their reputation, as regards drinking purposes, judging from my own observations
must be infinitely greater abroad than it is at home;
for I never saw a draught of mineral water taken
by any one during my two months' residence at the
Baths.
Numerous as were the English families staying at
the Baths of Lucca in the summer of 1856, on every
side, yet from every quarter, from hotel and lodginghouse keepers down to the purveyors of horses and
donkeys, I heard many lamentations of the paucity
of the number of Inglese. There was every reason,
indeed, to believe that, in comparison with the advent of the English in former years, the complaint
uttered so generally in regard to their scanty numbers, was correct; for in the very height of the fashionable season, I saw many lodging-houses quite
shut up, and in others, suits of apartments remained
unlet. From what I heard and saw, the Baths of
Lucca seemed evidently to be waning in prosperity,
so far at least as the foreign element is concerned, that
has ministered for many years so very largely to its
wealth; for fashion, influenced by increased facilities of traveling, induces its English subjects resident in Italy to pass the hot months of the year by
the shores of the lovely lakes of Switzerland. Still,




THE BATHS OF LUCCA.           63
however much the flow of the annual tide of English to the Baths of Lucca may diminish in amount,
the English element of population will probably
never fail to show itself pretty conspicuously in the
place. For, whatever aspirations may exist after a
summer abode by the lakes of Leman and Lucerne,
these aspirations can only be indulged in, where a
large family is concerned, through the medium of a
well-filled purse; which is not at the command of
that numerous class of English residents in Tuscany, who from  economical considerations have
become exiles from their native land. So Miss
Henrietta, however she may long to wander amongst
Alpine heights, and fill her sketch-book with views
of snow-crowned mountains and chalet-dotted valleys, must perforce content herself with a summer
residence by the Lima's side, and limit her artistic.powers to the Devil's Bridge, or villages with redtiled roofs, wooded heights, old church towers, and
hordes of ragged beggars, whilst young Mr. George,
the proprietor of a carefully cultivated and promising infantine moustache, who pants for the glory of
climbing up Mont Blanc, encountering bears, or
hunting chamois, must resign himself to the tamer
pleasures which the Casino of the Ponte a Seraglio
offers, of billiard-playing and newspaper reading in
the morning, dancing, music and flirtation in the
evening.
Truly, however, those English residents in Flo



64             LIFE IN TUSCANY.
rence are little to be pitied, whom  scanty means
precludes from seeking a more distant place of summer recreation than the Baths of Lucca. Although
compared with Alpine scenery, that of the Appenines is tame, the taste must be fastidious indeed,
that would not derive a high degree of gratification
from the sight of the winding valleys, hemmed in
with lofty and magnificently wooded hills, with
which the neighborhood of this beautiful Tuscan
watering-place abounds. To such persons as are
fond of riding, and can attain to a philosophical indifference in regard to roads —who will not recoil
from scrambling up on horseback to peasant villages
perched eagle-like on the summits of high declivities, by highways that resemble nothing so much as
the dried-up rocky beds of mountain streams, a
great variety of grand as well as very beautiful
views may be obtained. From the village of Lugliano especially, a village crowning the hill at the
foot of which the white houses of a considerable
portion of Ponte a Seraglio rise, a very splendid
prospect is seen, of glens and valleys, of winding
rivers and wooded hills, whose undulating outlines
stand out in strong relief against the deep blue sky,
of villages clinging to the sides or crowning the
summits of bold declivities, over which tower up in
grim and solemn grandeur the naked, barren crags,
herbless, leafless and lifeless, of the lofty Appenines.
Small as is the quantity of arable land amongst




THE BATHS OF LUCCA.           65
these hills and glens, the unlabored earth yet affords
subsistence to a population almost as dense as that
which exists in the rich plains of Tuscany, judging
from the number of villages that meet the view.
Many are the compensating gifts of nature; and
here, where the steepness of the hills offers an almost
insurmountable obstacle to the cultivation of grain,
a bountiful Providence has clothed their precipitous
sides and lofty summits with a tree, which, while it
beautifies their aspect, yields to the inhabitants of
the district an abundance of nutritious food. What
the potato was to the Irish peasant a few years ago,
the chestnut is to the dwellers amidst these hills at
this present day; and, like the former article of
food, should the latter be annihilated by some fell
disease, the dread Irish tragedy of 1846 would be
re-enacted on a smaller scale amidst these Appenine
glens. Stripes of Indian corn and patches of French
beans may be seen, indeed, extending along the level
ground of the narrow valleys, or growing on the
summits of the hills, around the peasant villages, in
small garden plots, but the combined produce of
these crops, even in the most favorable season, would
scarcely afford subsistence to the dense population
of those districts for more than a few days.
The chestnut harvest takes place for the most part
towards the end of October; but there are trees,
however, of an early kind, which commence to shed
their fruit some weeks before. Eagerly does the
5




66             LIFE IN TUSCANY.
peasant watch the skies in September, for on the
character of the weather in that month do his hopes
of an abundant harvest in a great degree depend;
Rain and sunshine following each other in quick
succession, form the kind of weather that is considered to exercise the most favorable influence on the
crop; for, without rain, the chestnuts will not swell,
and without sunshine they will not ripen as they
ought. In general, indeed, September does not disappoint the peasant's wishes in these respects; yet
sometimes it proves his enemy, by bringing him the
Libeccio, the dreaded southwest wind, laden with
salt, under whose influence the chestnuts turn quite
black, and drop. At such a period, general consternation prevails, Heaven is besieged with prayers to
withdraw the blighting blast, and the peasant kneels
at the shrine of the Madonna, and with more than
his wonted fervor invokes her aid.
The proprietorship of a patch of chestnut forest
is a dignity much longed for by the peasant inhabitants of these hills. Few of them, however, comparatively speaking, attain to the position of proprietors; the chestnut woods belonging, for the most
part, to members of a higher class, who let them to
poor laboring people, on the terms so generally
prevalent in Tuscany, of receiving half the produce
in the way of rent.
Although chestnuts, both boiled and roasted, are
extensively eaten by these mountaineers, the princi



THE BATHS OF LUCCA.             67
pal portion of the fruit is ground like grain; and
from the flour thus obtained, a kind of porridge
called pollenta, and a cake, termed indifferently
neccio, migliaccio or castagnacio, is made, which forms
the principal diet of the people throughout the year.
This cake, (neccio, as it is generally called by the
Lucchese), is sweet and pleasant to the taste; but
although considered to be exceedingly nutritious,
its dyspeptic tendencies are very great, except as
regards such persons as have from infancy been accustomed to its use. The manufacture of this neccio
requires but little time or skill. Mixed with water,
the farina dolce* (as the chestnut flour is termed)
forms a dough, which, when kneaded into a cake
about two inches thick, is laid sandwich fashion between two small circular flat stones, on the inner
side of which dried chestnut leaves are spread.
Into the centre of a fire-formed probably of the
wood of the chestnut tree —these two flat stones,
with the intervening dough, are placed, and through
the medium of this primitive stove, a cake is speedily produced; soft, dark in color, and sweet to the
taste. In preparation for the manufacture of this
neccio, large quantities of the leaves of the chestnut
tree are collected in the month of September, strung
all close together on a cord, and then hung up outside the house to dry. At the end of September,
* Sweet flour.




68             LIFE IN TUSCANY.
scarcely a peasant's house is to be seen, that has
not one or more pendent rows of chestnut leaves
garnishing its front. Other preparations for winter
meals are seen also at this period of the year.
Underneath the shade of the chestnut trees grow
quantities of fungi, which, though bearing to an
English eye a most poisonous aspect, are much made
use of by the peasantry, when fresh, to form a dish,
when dried, to flavor their ordinary kinds of food.
Insipid, however, as these fungi are in point of taste,
compared to the English mushroom, and indeed
almost destitute as they are of savory qualities, they
are eagerly sought for by the peasantry in the autumn months, when they appear; and though some
are used in their fresh state, the most part are preserved for winter use, by being cut up in pieces and
laid out to dry in baskets placed before the door.
Abundant as is the harvest which the chestnut
generally yields, and cheap as is the food that it
affords, a very considerable number of the population of those hills are annually driven, by the pressure of want, to seek the means of existence elsewhere. When the autumn months set in, groups of
hardy peasants may be seen wending their way to
Leghorn, to embark for Corsica: where they find
employment during the winter, and gain sufficient
money to support their families, to whom they return in the latter end of April or beginning of May.
The summer past, the succeeding autumn witnesses




THE BATHS OF LUCCA.            69
the scene of the preceding season renewed; and so
on in a similar manner year after year.
Strange to the ears of the Tuscan peasants are the
tales of Corsican life that these wanderers bring
home. The Lucchese women, who are accustomed
from their childhood to the hardest toil, working
incessantly from morn till night, daily ascending
precipitous hills, carrying tremendous loads upon
their heads, listen with wonder when their fathers
or brothers tell how the Corsican women, for the
most part, sit squatted in listless idleness on the
ground; and with no less surprise, not unmingled
with envy, perhaps, do the home-staying young
Giovannis and Guiseppes hear how the Corsican
men, scorning all kinds of drudging work, allow
their fields to remain untilled, and their spades and
hoes to spoil with rust, whilst shouldering their guns
they hie off in company to the woods to shoot.
Not alone, however, does Corsica afford a field of
employment to these poor mountaineers; scarcely
a year passes by that enterprising youths do not
leave their native hills to seek their fortunes in England or America, by following for the most part the
trade of modelers of plaster figures. Some years
ago the profession was a good one, I was told by
one of these vagrant artists, who had returned home
with a fortune of five thousand dollars from America. " I used often to make," he said, " from nine
to ten dollars a day; but now the business is over



70              LIFE IN TUSCANY.
stocked: the lads of the present day, who take to
the same way of earning their bread, don't make
half of that amount." This man had two brothers,
modelers like himself; one had, like him also, returned enriched from America, the other had married and settled in England. Few, however, of these
wandering mountaineers establish themselves in a
foreign country, if they should happen to have secured by their exertions a sufficiency of means to
enable them to live with the least degree of comfort
in their native land. Little attractive to the stranger's eye as are the homes of the peasantry in the
neighborhood of the Baths of Lucca, the natives of
these hills find a charm in their dark, dirty, furnitureless, smoke-stained interiors, which the snug,
clean, comfortable cottages of America or England
do not in their ideas possess. With an intense
yearning for country and kindred, the wandering
modeler generally returns to spend his declining
days under the shade of those chestnut trees, beneath which his earliest youth was passed. But
sufficient as are for him the pleasures of that rough
and rude existence to which he returns, and the
shelter of the roof under which he first drew breath
-indifferent as he is to unglazed windows and dirtstained walls, so long as he has the means of indemnifying himself for years of toil by lounging about
with a pipe in his mouth in listless idleness, far dif



THE BATHS OF LUCCA.          71
ferent is it with the American or English wife whom
he brings with him to his native land.
"Poor creatures! it is a terrible life for such as
them," said an Italian woman, speaking on the subject, to me. "I knew two; one died of a broken
heart, the other, at the end of two months, left her
husband, and went into service in an English family.
Poor things, it wasn't to be wondered at, certainly.
They had never been accustomed, like our peasant
women, from their youth to climb up steep mountain
tracks, or to live upon chestnut or maize. Little
did they think, when they heard of the blue skies
of Italy, of the kind of hard and comfortless life
that the peasants amongst these mountains lead;
they wanted meat to eat and tea to drink, and how
were they to be had miles away from any place where
such things are sold?"
Since the annexation of the Duchy of Lucca to
that of Tuscany, the Baths of Lucca have become
the favorite residence of the Grand Duke Leopold
and his family, during the summer months. In this
respect the Tuscan ruler followed the example of the
Lucchese Prince, who, invariably honored the Baths
with his presence at a similar period of the year.
Nothing can be more simple than the habits of the
whole Grand Ducal family whilst ruralizing here.
Difficult indeed it was to realize at times that the
riding party of seven or eight, frequently to be met
with, could aspire to the possession of regal dignity;




72             LIFE IN TUSCANY.
so very homely in style and dress did the whole
group appear. Very stout in person, and past the
prime of life, the Grand Duchess, on such occasions,
was to be seen mounted on a somewhat diminutive
horse, arrayed in a riding habit of some light yellow
stuff, and wearing a large brown straw hat of a
mushroom shape upon her head. In his plain black
coat and white beaver hat, the chief member of the
party, the Grand Duke Leopold, an elderly man,
with a gray moustache, exhibited little of a princely
air; whilst the young Archduke, in his linen tunic,
and the little Archduchess, in a common Manclhester print, were far from tending to' increase the aristocratic aspect of the party.
If affability of demeanor in public could win affection, Leopold and his family would enjoy unbounded popularity at the Baths of Lucca; for not
only do they most courteously return all salutations
proffered, but they take the initiative in this respect
in most instances, and the passing stranger is almost
overwhelmed by the task of having to return a volley of royal inclinations. In spite, however, of this
condescension on the part of the reigning family,
Leopold and his rule are most thoroughly detested
by the Lucchese people, in consequence of the great
increase of taxation that the country has had to
bear since its annexiation to the Grand Duchy of
Tuscany. Most opprobrious are the terms I have
heard applied to him by the peasantry in conversa



THE BATHS OF LUCCA.          73
tion. "He grinds us down to the ground," says
one: "He takes the piece out of our children's
mouths," says another: "The old miser! he has
lots of treasure by him," exclaims a third: and a
fourth has gravely assured me that the Grand Duke,
fearing that he will loose his throne, has sent whole
sackfuls of gold to California, whither he is to follow it on the occasion of the next revolution in Tuscany.  "Oh! that we had Carlo Ludovico back
again," exclaimed all, with one consent: "he did
not oppress us or rob us; he loved the English too,
and the poor had always a kind friend in him. It
was a black day for this country when it passed
from the rule of Carlo Ludovico into that of Leopold of Tuscany."
This Carlo Ludovico was the last Duke of Lucca,
the last bearer of the title; for, in conformity with
the treaty of Vienna, he was obliged to yield up the
Lucchese territory to the Grand Duke of Tuscany,
on succeeding, by the death of the Empress Maria
Louisa, to the Duchies of Parma and Piacenza.
Though the impartial historian will be able to say
little in his praise, his character resembling that
of the "merry monarch" of England, yet Carlo
Ludovico, like many a scapegrace in every grade of
life, seems to have possessed a certain good humor
and a certain affability of manner, which obtained
for him a considerable degree of popularity, notwithstanding the worthlessness of his character. At




74             LIFE IN TUSCANY.
least this was the case amongst the peasantry
around the Baths of Lucca; and I subjoin an anecdote of Carlo Ludovico that was told me by one of
his warm admirers:
"Ah! Carlo Ludovico was another sort of man
from that gray-muzzled tyrant we have now over
us," began my informant. " He had his faults, to
be sure-who has them not?-but he was not the
man to grind down the poor with taxes, or to send
spies about to catch up and report every hasty or
evil word that any man, or any woman either,
might say against him, as does the present prince,
who for our sins has been put to reign over us. A
better chance has the robber, or even the murderer,
of escaping on conviction from the doom of a heavy
punishment, than has that man or woman who has
been found guilty of saying a word against the
Grand Duke or his family. Very different was it
with Carlo Ludovico, even if he heard with his own
ears a disparaging remark about him; and that
often might readily occur, for the Duke, just from
the love of a bit of frolic, as it were, was accustomed
to go about in the dress of a contadino among the
people: and to show you now what kind of a man
he was, I will tell you a story about him.
"Well, one fine day, it happened that Carlo Ludovico, disguised in a countryman's dress, having
gone some little distance into the country, being




THE BATHS OF LUCCA.           75
somewhat tired on his road home, asked a baroccino,?
who was passing in his baroccio, to take him a bit of
the way to Lucca.'Willingly,' said the baroccino;
and at the word up got the Duke beside him. WVell,
of course, they began to talk, and the baroccino,
never dreaming it was any one but a mere contadino
he had to deal with, from this and that, came to
mention the name of Carlo Ludovico.
"' Well, what of him?' asked the Duke, quickly.' What do you think of Carlo Ludovico and his
government?'
"'Oh, the government is not a bad one, surely,
for us country people, at least,' returned the baroccino,' since it don't tax us hardly; and as for Carlo
Ludovico, I have no fault to find with him, except
that he lets himself be guided and governed by the
ladies.'
"' But, poor man,' said the Duke, smiling,' that
is not a great crime after all, for there is many a
good and wise man in the world that fares no better
than Carlo Ludovico in this particular;' and the
Duke went on talking quite pleasantly and goodhumoredly, without the least show of anger, till
coming to the gates of Lucca he got out of the
baroccio and walked on towards his palace: not,
however, without being recognized in passing by
one of the guards on duty at the gate.
* The driver of a light kind of rude coutry conveyance called a
baroccio.




76               LIFE IN TUSCANY.
"' You have made a fortune, I suppose, this
morning?' said the guard, as he examined the baroccino's cart.*
"'What do you mean by that?' rejoined the
baroccino.
"'Why, you have had a fine paying passenger
this morning,' said the guard.
"' You jest,' said the baroccino;'I had none but
that poor contadino, who just now  got down-of
whom I did not ask a soldo by way of payment.'
"' Poor contadino, indeed!' said the guard, laughing;'I tell you what, my good fellow, he is far
richer than either you or I will ever be, no matter
how well we may prosper in the world, for I swear,
as I am a living man, that was Carlo Ludovico, the
Duke, you had beside you.'
"'The Duke!' exclaimed the baroccino, aghast.'Oh, sanctissima Vergine, what have I done?  What
have I said? I am a lost and a ruined man!' and
calling on the saints in heaven to help him, he
rushed as fast as his legs would carry him after the
Duke, whom he soon overtook.
"' Pardon, your Excellency, pardon!' exclaimed
the baroccino, throwing himself down on his knees
before the Duke.
"' Pardon for what?' asked Carlo Ludovico.
* In consequence of a tax on provisions being generally levied in the
towns of Italy, all vehicles entering the gates of a walled city are liable,
and often subjected, to a search.




THE BATHS OF LUCCA.           77
"'For what I said about your Excellency and
the ladies,' returned. the baroccino, trembling, and
quite white in the face with fear.
"' Oh, if that is all you ask pardon for, it is given
at once,' said the Duke, smiling;'there are not
ten men in a hundred that escape petticoat government, and why should I be angry at being told the
general fate was mine. There, set your mind at
rest, and go your way,' continued the Duke, and
taking a couple of scudi out of his pocket, he gave
them to the baroccino as payment for the drive, and
went away quickly, leaving the poor man half out
of his mind with joy."
With August terminated the gay season of the
Baths of Lucca, for on the advent of September,
balls became numbered amongst the things that
were, and public band days undergo a little more
tardily a similar fate. With the first week of September, all the symptoms of a general break-up of
the society at the Baths were visible, and every day
well laden traveling carriages might be seen starting
from the doors of the numerous lodging houses of
the Baths of Lucca. The lines of closed shutters,
also, which the hotels began to exhibit, were also
strongly expressive of the ebbing tide of population,
and the vetturino lounging on the bridge invariably
asked the passer-by if the signor or the signora, as
the case might be, was in want of a carriage for
Lucca.




78              LIFE IN TUSCANY.
In truth, judging from the experience of 1856,
the climate strongly enjoined a change of residence
as desirable. WVith September came thunder-storms,
night after night and day after day, for a considerable period. Summer, instead of dying out, as
elsewhere, by slow degrees, seemed to expire instantaneously: the air, from having been intensely warm
in August, grew damp and chilly. The skies, from
having been for week after week unspotted with a
cloud, showed only here and there small -islands of
blue amidst billowy masses of leaden-colored vapor.
A yellow hue began to steal over the bright green
foliage of the chestnut trees, whose fruit rapidly increased in size under the favoring influences of the
moisture. Depressing to the spirits as it always is
to look on gloomy rain-charged clouds, in no country in the world, perhaps, can chill, damp, showery
weather exercise a more subduing influence than in
Italy. In England, the domestic sun that shines
upon us from our hearths, the heat and light that
come streaming to us from the bright coal fire, mitigate in a great degree the unhappiness of our lot
in being doomed for the most - part of the year to
rainy, gloomy weather. But in Italy, under similar
circumstances, when the sun is hid behind masses
of leaden clouds, from which the rain pours down
with little intermission, perhaps for not only successive days, but weeks together, the compensating
influences of the English hearth are scarcely to be




THE BATHS OF LUCCA.            79
found. In the room which looked so pleasant in
bright sunny weather, with its green jalousies, white
muslin curtains, and smooth, unearpeted floor, no
fire-place exists most probably; or if by chance it
does, the aspirer after English comforts will be half
choked and blinded by the smoke, which, refusing
obstinately to ascend the chimney, diffuses itself in
a dense cloud through every corner of the room.
The foot, as it treads on the cold, polished tiles,
misses the soft warm carpet of England. Into the
open terrace the rain comes beating, and the chill,
damp air without, enters in currents through the
many apertures of the ill-fitting doors and windows.
Wise is it in English visitors to leave the Baths of
Lucca ere September rains begin, for an English climate requires English comforts, such as are there
unattainable.
Summer, however, though it had died out apparently in Lucca during the month of September,
had a much longer life in other parts of Tuscany;
for in Leghorn, where I passed the beginning of the
month of October, the weather was quite summerlike in character, and enjoyable beyond description.




CHAPTER IV.
A PISAN CARNIVAL.
jjiiHERE are some ideas so essentially
incongruous in their nature, that
~q~/'~,  one involuntarily recoils from them
when they are presented together
to the mind: such was the grim veiled skeleton associated in days of yore in Egypt with
mad revelry and luxurious feasts: such, too,
would prove the allied images of a wedding
procession and a hearse, or a dance performed over
the graves of the mouldering dead; and but little
less antagonistic than such ideas seem to the mind,
is the connection of Pisa with carnival mirth and
revellings, to any one who has made a personal
acquaintance with that town.
For Pisa wears at this present day an air of melancholy beyond the power of words to describe;
and did the same principle still prevail, which assigned in bygone years to Italian towns epithets




A PISAN CARNIVAL.             81
illustrative of the several qualities for which they
were renowned; as Lucca was termed " The Industrious;" Florence, "The Beautiful;" and Genoa,
" The Superb;" even so the propriety of now appending the designation of " The Mournful" to the
name of Pisa, would be beyond dispute.
The quiet of the country exercises a soothing influence over the feelings; there, the ear asks not for
more than the sound of rippling water, or of rustling
foliage, and the eye rests satisfied with such images of
animated life as browsing cattle and the flight of
birds supply: but the quiet of a town, and the absence
there of sights and sounds indicative of the existence
of human energy and activity, are depressing to the
spirits in a very eminent degree. Such is the case
with Pisa, whose deserted squares, untrodden courts
and streets, which, with two or three exceptions,
never echo to the sound of carriage-wheels and the
tread of horses, imbue the mind and fancy with
thoughts and images of an intensely gloomy hue.
Passing along the silent streets, where a dark-robed
priest or a wandering beggar alone is found, one
might very readily entertain the thought that the
houses, which rise up high and with solemn aspect
on either side, have only ghosts and spiders for their
inhabitants.
The youth of ten transformed into the greybeard
of fourscore, supplies an apt illustration of the difference that exists between the Pisa of the present
6




82             LIFE IN TUSCANY.
and the Pisa of mediaeval days. A time there was
when Pisa-powerful, industrious, rich, renownedwas a town in something more than name; when
along the now deserted quays, between which the
Arno runs, the busy tide of life poured on from
morn till night; when the now silent streets resounded with the din of trade; when the grassgrown piazza re-echoed with the war-steed's tread,
and from the marble palaces along the river's side
issued the mail-clad warriors and the men-at-arms,
whose prowess won for Pisa an extended sway and
a widely known and honored name.
The mutability of human fate is well exemplified
in the change which has come over Pisa during the
course of years. In the Piazza dei' Cavalieri, from
which the Knights of San Stefano sallied forth with
plume and sword and blast of trumpet to fight the
enemies of the Cross, not a sound is heard, save the
step of some black-clad priest, or the strolling beggar's wail for alms, addressed to the exploring
stranger. The far-famed Leaning Tower, in company with the noble Cathedral and Baptistry, rise
up in lonely grandeur out of a grassy' waste. One
ancient palace, whose richly ornamented front testifies to its pristine dignity, has become the Caffe
dell' Ussero; and in the ancient residence of the
Gambacorti family-whose walls once echoed with
the sound of mirth and music, whose mirrors once
reflected back the forms of the fair and the highly




A PISAN CARNIVAL.            83
born-clerks sit and write, discourse of tariffs, duties, and such matters as come within the province
of the custom-house officials of the Grand Duke of
Tuscany.
Notwithstanding the antiquity of the greater portion of the buildings of Pisa, they present in general, to an English eye, a freshness of aspect which
seems inconsistent with their venerable years. In
the clear air of an Italian sky, marble and stone,
undefiled by smoke and unstained by damp, change
little in color during the course of centuries. Unlike what occurs in our humid clime, no mildew
vegetation creeps up the walls, no sooty impurities,
deepening from year to year, mark with their disfiguring trail the progress of time. Yet, reasoning
from a six weeks' experience of Pisa during the winter months, the absence of all external symptoms of
humidity on the buildings, appears somewhat unaccountable; for during at least a month of that
period mentioned, the rain fell with a violence and
constancy such as I had never previously witnessed.
The first sound that generally greeted my ears on
waking, was the pattering of rain drops against my
window, or on the flags below; and if, perhaps, in
the afternoon, a cessation of a couple of hours occurred, yet at the approach of night the rain, as if
it had recruited its energies by that short rest, began
once more to fall with additional vehemence. For
days together, the sole testimony the sun vouchsafed




84             LIFE IN TUSCANY.
to the Pisans of his continued existence, was the
regular alternation of light and darkness.
Under the influence of the leaden sky and the
murky clouds of that wet and gloomy season, the
wonted melancholy deserted aspect of Pisa became
deepened in a tenfold degree. The wet pavements
were trodden but by very few who were not forced
to leave the shelter of their houses by some affair of
pressing necessity. The north side of the Arno —
the usual lounge of the idler in the afternoon - exhibited only here and there, at the favorite hour, a
green umbrella, covering a shaven face surmounted
with a three-cornered hat, or a melodramatic-looking Pisan gentleman shrouded in the folds of a
voluminous cloak. Few and far between, too, were
the beggars (usually so abounding) that were to be
seen. In contrast with the silence and deadness of
the streets that skirted the Arno's either edge, that
river - swollen by the long-continued rain- roared
madly, furiously along, bearing on its muddy surface logs of wood, bundles of hay or straw, and
other memorials of the depredations it was commiting in the country through which it passed. The
weather was very bad, the Pisans owned, in reference to my not particulary complimentary remarks
on the character of their winter clime; but while
they admitted this, they hastened to assure me, with
a patriotism truly commendable, that the season was
stravagante-implying, by this term, that the weath



A PISAN CARNIVAL.             85
er had departed from the usual meritorious tenor of
its ways: an assurance somewhat difficult to believe, when it came to my knowledge that only the
year before a terrific inundation of the Arno had
occurred, by which life, as well as a vast amount of
property, had been destroyed.
If the weather had been the bitterest enemy of
the Pisans, it could not have showed its malice more
than by selecting this particular time for indulging
in a stravaganza; as it was the iperiod between
Christmas and Lent -a period varying in length
every year-which custom has for many centuries in
Italy dedicated especially to pleasure. In this season
of which I speak-viz., the winter of 1856 —the interval between Christmas and Easter was unusually
short; and instead of having, as sometimes happens, a two months' licensed season for enjoyment,
the Pisans were obliged to condense their amusements into the narrow compass of five weeks -a
circumstance doubtless annoying in itself, but more
particularly so when it is taken into consideration
that in these five weeks they had to indemnify
themselves for the absence of their wonted carnival
pleasures during a period of eight years.
This privation owed its origin, and also its continuance for the period mentioned, to causes of a
political nature. In the winters of 1848 and 1849,
the populace of the Tuscan towns were too busily
engaged in making public demonstrations in favor




86              LIFE IN TUSCANY.
of the republican cause, in thinking of and discussing political events, to play the merry-andrew in
mask and domino. In the five succeeding years,
the presence of the detested Austrians, with whom
Leopold, on his restoration to power, had filled the
Tuscan towns-combined with a prohibition issued
against the use of masks-effectually checked all
public demonstrations of carnival mirth. In 1855,
however, reassured by the pacific aspect of affairs,
the Grand Duke of Tuscany dismissed his troops,
and this measure being followed by the revocation
of the edict against masks, the Pisans, as well as the
other inhabitants of the Tuscan towns, prepared to
greet the next arrival of the festive season with the
warmth and cordiality due to the return of a muchregretted and well-loved friend.
Under these circumstances, therefore, it may readily be imagined with what sensations of despair
the Pisans looked up to their clouded skies, from
which the rain fell for many weeks, with periods of
but short intermission. Making the most, however,
of the few hours of sunshine or of fair weather they
might happen to enjoy, a motley assemblage of old
and young, of rich and poor, might be seen on an
occasional January afternoon, extending along the
street which skirts the Arno on its northern side,
shouting, laughing, talking, and cheering the oddlydressed figures that passed before their view. At
first, the masks were few in number; but, as time




A PISAN CARNIVAL.            87
wore on, and as the weather towards the end of the
month began to grow fine, the maskers became
more numerous, until at length, in the week that
preceded Lent, they increased to quite a throng. A
very curious sight it was for a stranger to look
down, as I did, from my window, on that crowd -
to watch the eager, excited faces, to hear the shouts,
and to see the antics of a people intoxicated (as it
were) with joy. Nor did the amusement, often repeated as it was, seem in the least degree to pall
upon the taste; on the contrary, the furor for masking, and for seeing masks, appeared daily to increase. The tradesman left his shop, the artizan
his loom, the straw-platter threw her work aside, the
wrinkled grand-dame put her distaff by, and 11,
with one accord, from every street and back lane of
the town, hurried off each afternoon to take their
accustomed share, either as spectators or actors, in
the strange scene enacted by the river's side.
It would be difficult to say what style of dress,
amongst the maskers, was the favorite or the prevailing one, so varied were the garbs that met the
view. HIere, a black domino might be seen, contrasting there with the motley array of a circus
clown; whilst some wore gigantic masks, displaying noses of prodigious length, or faces looking four
different ways; others shrouded their features from
the public gaze by a simple covering of black silk,
through two apertures in which gleamed forth a




88              LIFE IN TUSCANY.
pair of bright, laughing eyes. Here, might be seen
a cavalier, with a high cocked-hat, long flowing
curls, and fashion of dress appertaining to the olden
time, conducting, with an infinity of bows, a dame
decked forth in a corresponding style, moving along
with a suspiciously masculine stride. Now, came
dancing, springing by, a bevy of masked girls
dressed in white, with fluttering ribbons and flowers
in their hair; and anon, a set of warriors, with polished cuirasses and visors down, drove (somewhat
incongruously) slowly by. As the figures in the
kaleidoscope vary with every shake, so at every
moment the scene was changed. Clowns and dorminos-blue, black, green, yellow, red-knights and
dancing girls, prodigious noses, and miraculous
heads-appeared and reappeared in new combinations each successive moment; whilst the scene was
further varied by a line of carriages of every degree
of dignity, from the smart equipage of a Pisan noble
to the dingy vehicle called into requisition for the
occasion from the neighboring stand.
Equally great as the variety of scene was the variety of sound: with the roar of the muddy river,
swollen by the recent heavy rains, were blended the
tramp of horses, the roll of wheels, and the tones of
the human voice, from the shrill treble of the enraptured child, to the deep accents of the scarcely
less delighted man; high in the air rose the masker's piercing trill, a sound seemingly impracticable




A PISAN CARNIVAL.            89
for any but Italian throats or lips to give, and which,
amidst the prevailing laughter, shouts and cheers;
was ever distinguishable. How voices lasted as they
did, when day after day their powers were taxed to
such an extreme degree, appeared to me somewhat
remarkable. The long continued duration of the
excitement was a source to me also of some little
wonder; for amongst the natives of the British isles
a long protracted pastime, such as the carnival was,
would, before half its course was run, have died out
certainly of weariness and satiety. Here, on the
contrary, to the very last moment of the carnival's
existence, the evidences of popular enjoyment went
on daily increasing. To the colder, graver temperament of northern climes, the huge draughts of pleasure that can be swallowed by the impulsive, excitable
natures living under southern skies must prove a
subject of surprise; and to some, perhaps, may assume the aspect of a privilege to be envied.
To the masquerade by day, in the public streets
of Pisa, succeeded masquerades at night, in the
theatre or in private houses. Not only had the rich
and noble their masked balls, but the shopkeeper,
and even the servant, had theirs also; and often the
tardy light of a January morning dawned upon the
unfinished festivities. Private theatricals were also
indulged in to a considerable extent, not only by
the upper, but by the middle classes of the community.  Two pretty young girls whom  I knew,




90              LIFE IN TUSCANY.
daughters of a hotel-keeper in the town, displayed
considerable proficiency in this accomplishment;
and a man-servant in the house where I was staying, who enacted in the morning the housemaid's
part of sweeping, dusting and cleaning, appeared in
the evening, on some private stage, in the character
of an actor. Another carnival amusement deserves
also to be mentioned. From the hour of six o'clock
in the evening, till late at night, the streets were
traversed, towards the end of the festive season,
with bands of masqueraders; men and women, who,
disguised in fancy dress, or simple domino, rushed
into their friends' houses, there to frisk about, to
laugh, to utter witticisms in feigned voices for a few
minutes, and then to vanish as suddenly as they had
entered. One scene of this description, which fell
under my notice, was about the very oddest and
most curious sight I ever witnessed.
On previous occasions, the glories of the carnival
came to the culminating point on the two last days
of its existence; for not only was the most expensive
and striking style of array reserved for this period,
but a new amusement was introduced to vary the
aspect of the daily scene. In former times, an
amicable warfare, carried on between the several
occupants of the carriages that passed each other in
line, had whitened the pavement of the Lung' Arno
with a carnival missile termed coonfetti, in form like
comfits, but composed of lime instead of sugar.




A PISAN CARNIVAL.            91
This year, however, to the disappointment of the
Pisans in general, and to the despair of the confetti
manufacturers in particular, the customary warfare,
both in lime and sugar comfits, was prohibited,
under pain of heavy penalties, duly declared by
means of notices posted everywhere throughout the
town. That this prohibition emanated from some
abstruse political motive was generally believed;
but it was quite beyond the power of ordinary intellects to comprehend how, when the other carnival
weapon of flowers was tacitly permitted to be used,
treason and danger to the State was more likely to
lurk in the interchange of confetti and bonbons than
in a warfare carried on by volleys of violets, snowdrops or camelias.
However unreasonable the prohibition might seem
to the Pisans, they were too well drilled into obedience not to conduct themselves in conformity with
the Government decree. At least such was generally the case; for there were to be found a few bold
spirits, belonging to the upper classes of society,
who dared to act in defiance of the new-made lawI
Short-lived, however, was the triumph that these
rebels enjoyed. One, whose spotless and well-fitting
white kid gloves and boots of varnished leather
formed a striking contrast with the grotesque and
gigantic head he wore, and the donkey he bestrode,
had not half emptied his pockets of the comfits with
which they had been filled, before he was favored




92              LIFE IN TUSCANY.
with some not particularly acceptable attentions on
the part of the police. A similar fate awaited a
party of gorgeously dressed Greeks, detected in
the crime of discharging from their carriage a volley of comfits at some passing friends. Unpleasant,
however, as such incidents doubtless were to the
parties immediately concerned, they did not seem
to cast any cloud upon the public mirth, for in default of the proscribed amunition, a smart fire of
bouquets was kept up between carriage and carriage;
giving rise to much excitement, and to no small
danger to little boys, who scrambled amongst the
feet of horses to earn a trifle by selling to the eager
combatants such bouquets as, having missed their
aim, had fallen upon the ground. The commodity
being somewhat limited in amount, the traffic was
brisk, high prices were obtained; and many a
bouquet was probably sold and re-sold a dozen of
times.
Amidst evidences of unabated enjoyment, the sun
went down upon the last day of the carnival. Domino still saluted domino with a laugh and a shout,
clowns still danced and sung, harlequin still flourished his wooden sword, Punch still sported his tremendous nose, when, as the darkness of the evening
cast a veil over the scene, the whole line of the
Lung' Arno became dotted over with minute points
of light, emanating from wax tapers which the oc



A PISAN CARNIVAL.              93
cupants of the carriages held in their hands; and
which they as zealously strove to guard from extinction, as they endeavored to extinguish those
that their neighbors held.  Scnza moccolo* was the
exulting cry that awaited the victims of a successful blqst, and many a senzca moccolo rose upwards
on the air. Long after night had fairly set in, the
gleaming lights were visible all along the river's
side, while carriage still followed carriage in two
lines, and tapers were extinguished, lit and re-extinguished innumerable times. It seemed as if the
actors in the scene would never tire: nor wa, it,
indeed, from any sensation of weariness that the
noisy throng at length dispersed, for few were there,.at least of its more youthful portion, both rich and
poor, noble and plebeian, that did not dance out the
last hours of the expiring festival.
With the first day of Lent, the town of Pisa resumed its ordinary aspect of dulness, solitude and
dejection. In the morning, indeed, the interior of
the churches offered to the eye a somewhat animated spectacle, from the number of persons of every
degree who flocked thither to receive the mark of
the penitential ashes on their head; and no wonder,
indeed, so many should be eager to perform  this
act of humiliation, since, as an Italian lady told me,
who had herself conformed to the requirements of
the church in this particular, that not only the fol* WithoIt light.




94              LIFE IN TUSCANY.
lies, but the misdeeds of carnival times, were in a
great degree atoned for by this means. But after
the transient effervescence attending on this ceremlonial was at an end-when every professing Catholic had complied with the requisitions of his faith,
Pisa sank back into its old listless and stagnant
state again. The Lung' Arno, so recently the scene
of an ever-varying comedy, so recently crowded
with a noisy, exulting throng, now echoed only with
the whining voices of the importunate beggars, who
pursued the few chance passers-by with an urgent
cry for alms. In place of the merry-maker's motley
garb, whose brilliant colors had flashed before the
eye-in place of the joyous laugh and shout that
had filled the air not many hours ago-I saw the
mendicant's squalid form, the cripple's distorted
frame, and while the blind rolled their sightless
eyes, and the maimed thrust forth their mutilated
limbs, and the widow pointed to her corpse-like
child, I heard repeated, with the same professional
wail, by old and young, "Dademi qualche cosa, per
l'amor di Dio, signorina; un quattrino, ho tanto fame,"*
and so on, in slightly varying terms, over and over,
continually.
If, to those who know Pisa but by repute, that
city and its wonderful Leaning Tower are indissolubly connected in the mind; to those who have en* " Give me something for the love of God, lady; a farthing. I am
so very hungry."




A PISAN CARNIVAL.              95
joyed, as I did, an intimate personal acquaintance
with that town for several weeks, Pisa and beggars
will be ideas inseparably associated together ever
afterwards.
~L~. O~-~-~Tv"-~f3 GGI




CHAPTER V.
FLORENTINE SCENES AND AMUSEMENTS.
HE Florentines seem quite as proud
A and as fond of their city as are the
Parisians of theirs. Praise Florence
to an inhabitant of that town, and
~:'~  he will smile and look quite flattered, as if
what had been said was a compliment to himself; but venture even in the gentlest manner
s  to hint at some defect, and you will see his
brow contract, and find out shortly that the imputation of bad taste is fixed on you irrevocably, in
his opinion.
For many ages the epithet of "The Beautiful"
has been affixed to the town; and certainly, as far
as its situation is concerned, no one for a moment
can dispute the correctness of the term. Placed at
the upper extremity of the fertile valley through
which the Arno flows, it is commanded by the Appenines, whose lofty peaks, which for a considerable




FLORENTINE SCENES AND AMUSEMENTS.    97
portion of the year are crowned with snow, tower
above ranges of undulating hills of varying form, all
bright with verdure, all studded over with peasant
dwellings, villages, and with villas, which peer forth
brightly from out a luxuriant growth of vines and
olive trees. From the heights of Bellosguardo, or
from the still more elevated site of Fiesole, a view
is beheld which cannot fail to make an indelible
impression on the memory. BelowT-hushed in that
solemn silence, with which distance ever invests the
busiest scene of human toil and life -lies Florence,
crowned with its vast cathedral dome, the pride and
wonder of a former age. From the amphitheatre
of verdant hills, by which the city is on most sides
girt, the eye turns to linger on that rich vale through
which the Arno winds onward to the sea. Here,
heights rising above heights; there mountains markincg their outlines on the bright blue sky; with steep
declivities or gentle slopes, melting down by slow
gradations into a far-stretching plain of exuberant
fertility — present a picture - or rather a series of
pictures-from which the eye turns reluctantly away.
Though the greatness and glory of Florence have,
like the renown of Pisa, passed away, it is far from
exhibiting the mournful aspect which characterizes
its former rival in the present day. Life does not
seem to stagnate in Florence as it does in Pisa; its
streets being, for the most part, neither silent nor
solitary. The priest and the beggar, who appear in
7




98              LIFE IN TUSCANY.
Pisa on ordinary occasions to form the principal portion of the population of the town, become, in Florence, but inconsiderable items, as regards numbers,
in the passing throng. While Pisa seems to brood
over the remembrance of its former greatness, Florence, as if forgetful of its bygone glories, welcomes
the stranger with a look of cheerfulness, and even
gaiety: and that, too, in despite of the grim  dark
palaces, with their prison-like windows, that flank
the street, and which testify to those times of insecurity and turbulence that have passed away —when
Guelph and Ghibelline contended together in the
streets, and when the air was rent by the cry of opposing factions.
The streets of Florence in those bygone days must
have worn an aspect widely different from that they
exhibit now, owing to the essential difference that
exists in point of manners, of modes of life, and of
customs, between the past and present. Under the
deep broad cornice, projecting from the roof of the
merchant noble's fortress-palace, dependants no
longer lounge upon the bench of stone that runs
along the basement story of the building. Through
those large iron rings, which hang pendent at intervals from the wall, the bridles of waiting horses or
samples of merchandise are no longer drawn; nor
do they any longer serve the part of torch-holders
on festive occasions. No longer do their inner courts
re-echo with the heavy tread of mail-clad men, nor




FLORENTINE SCENES AND AMUSEMENTS.    99
do their arcades resound with the hum of trade; for
now no merchant comes there to confer with his
brother merchant on commercial business; nor do
the young and old repair thither to buy the rich products of the East or of Florentine looms-spices,
gems, porcelain, perfumes, wrought ivory cabinets,
brocades, and gorgeous tissues.  Neither do the
streets display the figure of the grim man-at-arms
or of the mail-clad knight mounted on his war steed,
and ever prepared for combat.
In contrast with the scene such images suggest is
the one presented by the principal streets of Florence at the present day. Let us take one of themthat which runs, for instance, from the Cathedral to
the Piazza del Gran Duca, and remark the objects
it presents to notice. On either hand are shops of
every description, into whose windows sundry passers-by gaze-some with eager interest, and some
with listless curiosity. Here approach two darkeyed Florentine ladies, dressed out for public admiration in the last extravagance of Parisian fashion;
the most delicate of Tulle veils float before their
faces, for they use a veil to enhance, and not to conceal, the merit of their features. Here comes the
young Florentine gentleman, with delicate-colored
kid gloves, French boots, glossy hat, and well-trimmed and well-arranged moustache and whiskers.
In passing, he stares at the Florentine belles in a
way that would be considered rude in England, but




100            LIFE IN TUSCANY.
is merely received as a welcome tribute to their
charms by the gratified ladies. Here comes a sallow
priest, with shaven face, with long black robe descending to his feet, with buckles in his shoes, and
a triangular cocked hat upon his head. Not far
behind him follows a capuchin friar, clad in a dark
brown cloak with falling hood, which, on an emergency, can be drawn over his shaven crown; from
the cord tied round his waist, hangs a rosary, and
his bare feet are shod with sandals. Moody is his
face, dim his eye, and uncleanly his aspect: let us
turn away from him, for he is not an agreeable object to contemplate.
Far otherwise is that well-looking, dark-eyed,
sunburnt peasant woman, wearing a hat, the broad
and limp rim of which goes flapping about with her
every movement, and who, to judge from the basket
hanging on her arm, has visited town with the object of making some purchases. Next comes into
view the very impersonification of an Italian brigand, a middle-aged, dark, fierce, gloomy-looking
man, enshrouded in the folds of a voluminous cloak,
one end of which has been flung across his left
shoulder, whilst his hat is pressed so low down on
his head as nearly to conceal his frowning forehead.
Does not a stiletto seem to be a natural accomplishment to that form and face, suggestive as they are
of tales of blood and vengeance? But let him pass
by without further notice, and fix your gaze on that




FLORENTINE SCENES AND AMUSEMENTS.   101
strange and startling procession that is approaching:
onward it comes, an assemblage of frightful-looking
figures, each clad from head to foot in a loose robe
of black, with eyes that stare out grimly through
two apertures in the black silk hooded mask that
conceals their features.  Goblins they might be
thought; imps of iniquity, ready for any deed of
darkness. But far different, indeed, is their character, and of a very different nature, too, is the act
which they are now performing from those of which
their appearance is suggestive; and as they come
on rapidly, bearing a litter aloft between them, the
carriages and the pedestrians turn aside to make
way for them; and not a man whom they pass by
or meet, but raises or touches his hat reverentially
to them as they speed on their charitable mission;
for they are the Brothers of the Misercordia (Mercy),
conveying a sick man to the hospital. All hail to
ye, brothers! I also touch my hat to you, in spirit.
From the aspect presented by the streets of Florence let us turn to that presented by its pleasuregrounds, and take a view of life in the form  in
which it is there offered to our notice. Adjoining
the magnificent palace of the Grand Duke of Tuscany are the Boboli gardens, which are thrown open
on certain days to the public. Let us select Sunday
for the day of our visit there, as otherwise we shall
see few but nursery-maids and children. Following
in the train of a joyous throng, bent upon obtaining




102           LIFE IN TUSCANY.
a transient taste of rural enjoyment on this their
great day of recreation, we pass by the front of the
palace to a high arch, through which the gardens
are entered. Along the walk which skirts the base
of a precipitous hill, we follow on in the track of
the greatest portion of the throng that has preceded
us; and at length quitting the broad gravel way
and the crowd, we turn into a side walk, where we
find ourselves in a long regular arcade of overarching boughs, resembling a continuous arbor, into
which the sun, in its summer noonday might, can
never penetrate further than to shed a twilight
glimmer through the interior. The arcade terminates in a broad avenue, at either side of which rise
up massive walls of verdure, serving as a background for numerous statues. From the summit of
a steep hill, up which the avenue runs in a straight
line, a fine view of the surrounding country rewards
the toiling pilgrim in search of the picturesque and
beautiful; but the ascent is somewhat too steep and
lengthened for a warm and fine day like this, when
the sun-although it has not a long journey to make
to attain the horizon-still shines with warmth and
power. Much pleasanter it is to descend to the very
foot of the hill, where a fountain diffuses around a
sense of coolness and freshness; and where arbors
and shady seats offer a pleasant retreat to the tired
or heated wanderer. Here, for a short time, let us
sit down and enjoy the scene before us. A right




FLORENTINE SCENES AND AMUSEMENTS.   103
pleasant seat it is, with the sound of falling water,
and the song of birds, and the voices of merry children, and of men and women, blending all together
and falling on the ear harmoniously, whilst the eye
dwells on walls of verdure, on gleams of quivering
sunlight beneath overarching boughs, on sparkling
water, on vases, shrubs and flowers, and on marble
statues, contrasting with the changing, shifting forms
of animated life we see around us.
Pleasant, however, as are the Boboli gardens in
the hot days of summer, and proud of them as are
the Florentines, they are left almost entirely to the
occupation of the working classes of the town on
the two days of the week on which alone they are
thrown open to the public. The servant in her cap,
the humble tradeswoman with a red or blue handkerchief tied round her head, the artizan in his holiday dress, the soldier off duty, and the families of
venders of pork, cheese, beer and maccaroni in back
streets; these, and such as these-petty shopkeepers, hucksters, mechanics —in fact, persons belonging
to the humbler classes of society, constitute the
throng that may be seen strolling about in the Boboli gardens.
Very different is the case in regard to the Cascine,
another Florentine pleasure-ground, which takes its
name from an adjoining dairy farm belonging to
the Grand Duke. Lying outside the walls of the
town, and affording drives of considerable extent,




104              LIFE IN TUSCANY.
these Cascine (the Hyde Park of Florence) are the
favorite resort of the native and foreign fashionable
classes of the town. On a fine summer's afternoon,
mingling with the dark-eyed and dark-complexioned
Italian throng, may be seen numbers of English and
Americans, easy of recognition amidst the mass, not
only by their air and bearing, but by their fairer
skins and lighter hair; and the frequency with
which faces of the Anglo-Saxon type present themselves to view, testifies to the very large colonies of
that race to be found within the walls of Florence.
The Cascine consist of a narrow strip of wellwooded level land, extending parallel to the river
for about a mile and a half along its northern side,
and are in themselves devoid of any beauty beyond
that which fine spreading forest trees, green turf,
and luxuriant underwood invariably possess. But
to the attractions of a general kind which they enjoy, are added some of an extraneous nature that
confer on them a particular charm; for through the
trees which overarch the walks and public drive, is
seen the front range of hills belonging to the Apennine range-hills now sharply peaked, now gently
rounded, either blending into one another in softly
curving lines, or standing out bold and well-defined;
hills crowned by trees and villages, and faced with
olives, vines, and verdant fields, amidst which rise
up thickly the red tile-roof dwellings of the peasant,
and the white glistening villas of the rich or noble




FLORENTINE SCENES AND AMUSEMENTS.    105
Florentine; and hills which, as the sun touches the
last period of his long summer-day reign, mark their
dark undulating outlines on a sky irradiated with
the most gorgeous gold or crimson hues.
Though at all times the Cascine are a favorite resort of the idle world, they are especially so on the
days when their attractions are increased by the
performance of a band; on such occasions, particularly on a festa, when the shops are closed and
business at a stand, the walks and the broad drive,
in a certain portion of the grounds, are filled respectively with pedestrians, riders, and carriages.
As no Florentine of either sex seems to dream  of
_walking, if either he or she has the means to drive,
a motley collection of equipages is visible, from the
smart Clarence of the Italian noble, with c/hassetur*
outside, down to the jingling dog-cart of the John
Gilpin class of citizen, and the hack, drafted for
the occasion from the neighboring stand; whilst
mingling with these may be seen troops of riders,
amongst whom the fair-complexioned English girl,
cantering along on her handsome and well-groomed
steed, occupies a conspicuous place.
The open space adjoining the spot where the band
is stationed, serves as a halting-place for the throng;
and while humble pedestrians press around the musicians in a circle, the occupants of carriages (the
* A chasseur is the name given to an attendant wearing a plumed hat
and sword in the military style.




106             LIFE IN TUSCANY.
latter drawn up side by side) commence an interchange of salutations with their friends. The smart
Florentine beau, with polished boots and nicelyfitting cream-colored gloves, dismounting from his
horse, makes his way through the file of vehicles,
and seeks out those in which he recognizes friends.
Halting here and there as he passes on, he expresses
his hope that he sees the Marchesa Capponi quite
well-compliments the Contessa Alberti on her very
becoming bonnet-begs to present the Signora Bartolotti with a bouquet he has purchased from  a
flower-girl-is distressed to find that Signora Bianca
is still suffering from a cold-and, after lamenting
to Signora Massoni that his numerous engagements
prevented him firom attending her last night's ball,
he exchanges with her the last budget of fashionable news: as edifying in its nature as such ah article
always is, the wide world over.
Thus driving, riding, talking, jesting, quizzing,
flirting, time glides on; the sun disappears behind
the hills, and the shades of evening fall: which,
deepening fast, soon empty the Cascine of their gay
motley throng. The musicians take their departure,
and their audience following the example, all turn
to Florence, leaving the Cascine to silence, darkness, and solitude: and yet not to darkness entirely,
in that beautiful June evening; for no sooner does
the night set in, than under the deep gloom of the
overarching trees, are seen the minute but brilliant




FLORENTINE SCENES AND AMUSEMENTS.   107
lamps of innumerable fireflies, rising and falling,
swaying here and there, and tracing multitudinous
intersecting lines of light upon the darkened air.
In Florence, several days in the year are particularly dedicated to religious display or to public
rejoicing. On Ascension-day it is considered a kind
of pious obligation to make merry, and many a
picnic party is formed to the Cascine on that occasion. The procession that takes place on the 11th
of June, through cloth-hung streets, and with flags
and banners, in honor of the feast of the Corpus
Domini, is characterized by great pomp and splendor. On the 15th of August, images of the Virgin
are dressed up with silks, ribbons and flowers; and
in this ball-room  array the Madonna receives the
homage of the faithful; who, still further to propitiate her favor, salute her often on such occasions
with musical performances. On the 8th of September, another tribute of popular devotion awaits the
Virgin; for in honor of the Nativity, altars decorated with flowers are erected in the streets, and
boys and girls, in compliance with a time-honored
custom, the origin of which does not seem  very
clear, carry about paper lanterns suspended on poles.
A similarly mysterious practice is pursued during
Lent also; for when half of its six weeks has elapsed,
the juvenile street population of the town amuse
themselves by attaching to the dress of the passer-by
(in a clandestine manner, if practicable,) small




108             LIFE IN TUSCANY.
pieces of paper, cut in the shape of a ladder, and
named scala, from that circumstance.
Easter week is distinguished by many peculiar
observances and ceremonies. On MIaunday Thursday, I was present at the celebration of the Lavanda
in the Pitti Palace, where I saw the Grand Duke
go through the pantomimic action (for it was in
reality nothing else) of washing the feet of twelve
poor old men dressed in the garb of pilgrims; after
which, I saw him again in the afternoon, as, in
grand state and attended by his guard of nobles, he
visited, in accordance with established rules, seven
of the principal churches of the town': in whose interior, as well as in churches of less note, there is
invariably one altar decorated with all the nmagnificence of which the resources of each particular
church will admit. The example thus set by the
head of the State, it is incumbent on every professing Catholic to follow; and the streets were crowded
by people hastening from church to church, to get
over the prescribed number of visits in a reasonable
time. Though many certainly went to pray, as was
evidenced by the numerous figures I saw kneeling
before each decorated altar, curiosity, as with me,
was evidently the motive power with the great majority of the crowd that thronged the churches; and
very beautiful was the scene presented by many of
their interiors to the view. The church of Santa
Croce, in particular, was distinguished by a magnifi



FLORENTINE SCENES AND AMUSEMENTS.   109
cence of decoration such as scarcely any description
could do full justice to: —hangings of gold and silver brocade, massive candelabras of precious metals,
costly flowers, and innumerable wax lights, altogether made up a scene of gorgeous splendor such
as I had never previously witnessed.
The Saturday in Passion week is distinguished
by a grand service in the cathedral, towards the end
of which, when the choir begins to sing the " Gloria
in Excelsis," a discharge of fireworks takes place
from a huge kind of chariot stationed at the door.
On this occurrence, guns are fired, and the bells of
the city, which have been silent from the preceding
Thursday, ring out a joyous peal: whilst from the
same hour the church clocks, which have been constrained to observe silence for the same period of
time, are restored to the exercise of their suspended
faculties of sound.
But of all the days set apart for religious or public festivities in Florence, the feast day of St. John
the Baptist (San Giovanni), the patron saint of the
Florentines, which falls on the 24th of June, is distinguished beyond all others by splendor and varietyof ceremonial observances; chariot races, horse
races, music, fireworks, and illuminations, all combining to confer (as supposed) honor on the saint,
and to give (most unquestionably) interest to the
scene.
The preparations for these festivities commence




110             LIFE IN TUSCANY.
some time before the period fixed on for their taking
place. The erection of a huge wooden scaffold on
the Ponte alla Carraja, for the display of fireworks,
puts a stop, first, to the transit of carriages, and
finally to that of pedestrians, across it. In the
Piazza Santa Maria Novella, there rises, amidst the
sound of hammer and saw, a great amphitheatre of
seats, for the accommodation of such persons as are
desirous of witnessing the chariot races, (races of the
cocchi, as they are termed,) which take place in this
square. In other parts of Florence other seats also
are erected, for the purpose of affording a view of
the horse races, the scene of which lies along the
central streets of the town. Long before the 24th
of June, signs may be discerned of the approach of
the festivities in honor of San Giovanni, the revered
protector of the town.
The chariot races afford a sight characterized by
beauty and absurdity in about equal proportions.
The Piazza Santa Maria Novella, though irregular
in form, is one of the largest and finest squares in
Florence, and when in the amphitheatre of seats
erected around the course, not one place was to be
seen unoccupied-when from the gay state pavilion
occupied by the Grand Duke and Duchess, the
English ambassador, and the principal personages
of the Tuscan Court, the eye, rising upwards over
tier above tier of human faces, passed on still upwards to row after row of windows with crimson




FLORENTINE SCENES AND AMUSEMENTS.   111
hangings and crowded with spectators-when all
this pomp and show, this animated scene of human
life, was witnessed under the influence of an unclouded sky and a bright June sun, the effect was
eminently imposing and beautiful.
But what power of words can do justice to the
absurdity of the races, for which all this preparation
had been made; for which windows had been hung
with glowing draperies, seats erected by the thousand, and at which royalty in state presided. How
often through life is it forced upon the mind, that
man, though attaining outwardly by grey hairs to
the age of wisdom, yet never attains to the age of
discretion, in reality-a fact signally exemplified in
this instance; for however judicious it may be for
matured mankind occasionally to accept pleasure
when it comes, without entering into a strict investigation as to the dignity of its origin, yet to invest
a something essentially trivial and ephemeral (as
were these races) with an outward show of pomp
and splendor, to expend time and money in ministering to the grandeur of an imbecility, are acts
that involve a degree of intellectual development
belonging only to the age of dolls, hoops, tops, and
hobby-horses.
A few words will suffice to give a description of
the races of the cocchi, by which San Giovanni is
honored in Florence. To most persons, the form of
the ancient Roman chariot, guided by a standing




112             LIFE IN TUSCANY.
charioteer, has been made familiar through the medium of prints; of the same shape are the Florentine cocchi; and, saving that they are constructed
with four wheels, they are fashioned in close imitation of the old Roman car. Behold, now, five of
these coechi, drawn by two horses each, guided by a
standing charioteer attired in a classically-shaped
floating tunic, differing in color from the others.
Ranged together side by side in the middle of the
Piazza, in the centre of that imposing-looking amphitheatre, their drivers await, in Phcebus-like attitudes, the signal for starting. It is given, and on
the instant down falls the lash, and off start the
horses at a gallop, dragging, apparently with difficulty, the low and lumbering cars behind them.
One circle of the Piazza is made, and the Apollo in
pink is first; another round, and the Mars in red
has attained the foremost position, and, keeping up
the advantage he has gained, at the third circuit he
comes in victorious. A gun is fired, and the spectators leave their seats; for the races of the cocchi,
which have lasted a space of about three minutes in
duration, are ended.
The races of the Barberi, which take place also in
honor of the feast of St. John, though widely differing in nature from  the races of the coccli, are
equally peculiar in character. The race-course is
formed by a long line of streets running through
the centre of the town, from one gate to another,




FLORENTINE SCENES AND AMUSEMENTS.   113
and the racers are riderless horses. All along the
line of streets the windows are hung with crimson
drapery, and soldiers, ranged in single file on either
side, keep the horses in the course prescribed, and
keep it also clear for the performances. Racing in
the English fashion is far from being to me a pleasurable exhibition, and from what I once felt on
seeing the lash descend with merciless force on the
bleeding. sides of panting, striving animals, I do not
desire ever again to be a spectator of another English race. In point of humanity, however, the
Italian races are equally obnoxious to censure; for
though the feelings are spared the sight of the action of the jockey's whip and spurs, the pain inflicted is probably even less than that resulting from the
artful device by which Italian horses (riderless as
they be) are stimulated to action. To the eye, the
small circular pieces of leather, or metal, which flap
up and down on the back and sides of the Italian
race-horse, might, naturally enough, be looked on
in the light of merely ornamental appendages. But
far otherwise is the case in reality-for every one of
these small flappers has a sharp spike in its centre,
that pricks the horse at every step he takes; and
the faster the poor animal gallops, under the torture
of these self-acting goads, the greater becomes the
stimulus of pain to urge him on his course, from the
added force given by every increase of speed to each
flapping point. Recurring in memory to the races
8




114             LIFE IN TUSCANY.
of the Barberi I witnessed in Florence, at the feast
of St. John the Baptist, there rises up before me the
vivid picture of a long line of crowded streets, of
crimson-hung windows, of tiers here and there of
well-filled seats, and of horses covered with flapping
goads, rushing by at a rapid pace.
But another picture, infinitely more beautiful and
agreeable, rises up before my view in connection
with the midsummer festivities in honor of San Giovanni. Vividly do I recall that beautiful evening in
June, when, standing by the river's side, I saw as
it were the realization of a scene of fairy land. In
the center of the Ponte alla Carraja-where a hideous wooden scaffold, a formless, unmeaning-looking
thing of planks and beams, had affronted the eye
by the light of day —there, in that same spot, shone
forth a radiant palace, fit to be the habitation of
genii. Up rose the whirring rocket into the air,
marking its course across the dark vault above with
a fiery trail, and perishing in a gushing shower of
stars of the most glowing colors; round spun the
wheels of glittering light, sending forth continuous
jets of dazzling sparks, like spray from a fiery fountain; whilst along the Arno, at either side, down to
the Ponte di Santat Trinita, extended close to the
water's edge long lines of lamps, whose mellow lustre was reflected in the stream beneath; and the
river itself, from one bank to the other, was studded
over with illuminated boats, showing, like isles of




FLORENTINE SCENES AND AMUSEMENTS.   115
light, every here and there, from its dark surface.
Clearly as at noonday could one see the eager faces
of the crowd around them; and the stars of heaven
looked dull, and dim, and pale, by contrast with
that glittering pageant.
There was no sleep that night for many. Crowds
filled the streets till break of day, passing from
place to place, to admire the beauty of the lamp-lit
cathedral dome, the radiant glories of the tall tower
of the Palazzo Vecchia, and to listen to the inspiriting strains of numerous bands, stationed here and
there, throughout the city; and not till the dawn of
day crept up the sky were the tones of music hushed,
and the wanderings of the pleasure-seekers ended.




CHAPTER VI.
SOCIETY.
HE name of Italy has for the edu~gI, ~Y~l: W cated world a kind of magic sound.
/  Its glory, grandeur, and might of old,
joined to its more modern triumphs
in the arts of the poet, painter, sculptor and
musician, give it a foremost position in the
sympathies of every cultivated mind. In no
small degree, certainly, does England feel the
spell which departed greatness, and the deathless
triumphs of genius, have thrown around the country of Brutus, Cicero, Dante, Columbus, Raphael,
Michel Angelo, and Galileo. By the English stranger who first treads the classic shores of Italy, the
history of which is intertwined with the remembrances of his early years-whose residence is
adorned perhaps by the grand creations of Italian
art, who owes many a delightful hour to Rossini's
or Bellini's harmonious strains-by such a one Italy




SOCIETY.                 117
and the Italians, the country and its people, will
naturally be viewed through a medium of the most
favorable kind. Short, however, is the duration of
the bright picture painted by the imagination, when
the realities of Italian life are brought before the
eyes of those who respect and cherish the virtues of
domestic life, and believe that existence presents
some higher, nobler object of pursuit than that of
pleasure.
Not more do Italy and England differ in their
outward aspects than in their inward states or existence. Strongly as the bright blue summer skies,
the olives, the maize, the vines of Italy contrast
with the lowering clouds and less luxuriant and
varied vegetation of our colder clime; the contrast
that exists in all that concerns the domestic life of
the two nations is far greater. From  the earliest
to the last moment of existence, influences, entirely
different in their nature, are at work, moulding the
characters and shaping the destinies of the inhabitants of Italy and England. In the different aspects
presented by these two countries at the present day
- England, rich, powerful, triumphant and free —
Italy, poor, weak, oppressed, enslaved-in the wide
distinction that thus prevails, it needs no penetration to discover which class of influences, affecting
the formation of the national character in either
country, is the best.
" Love, music and poetry, is the life of an Italian,"




118             LIFE IN TUSCANY.
exclaimed, one day in my presence, a young Florentine gentleman. Unfortunately for Italy, the observation was too true: Italian youths, epicureans
in theory and practice, too often fritter away their
time and energies in the pursuit of mere enjoyment;
and too often, through the means of a vicious career
of self-indulgence, their natural capacity for good
is well nigh extinguished, if not wholly destroyed.
Early in life the frivolous tone of Italian society
exerts its enervating influence over the youthful
mind. Few are the youths belonging to the upper
and middle classes of society in Italy, who resolutely
set themselves to achieve an honorable independence.
Clinging to their kindred for support, necessity
alone drives them to exercise their energies for the
purpose of acquiring the means of subsistence. The
idlers can be counted by tens, the workers by units.
The tone of thought which ruled society in Tuscany
in the days of the Medici is extinguished utterly;
for industry now is looked upon as vulgar, and idleness as genteel. The lad of fifteen apes the manapes him in the levities, and too often the vices of
his career: the youth of twenty is thoroughly a man
of the world, intimately acquainted with the world's
worst features. Frivolities become the serious duties
of his existence: he sings-he dances —he gossipshe flirts-as if life were given him for no higher aims
and occupation. So long as he can find the means
to buy light kid gloves, attend the opera, and pay




SOCIETY.                119
his caf6 bill, he lives on, contented with his position;
his future troubles him not, so long as his present
wears an agreeable aspect. " Vive la baqgatelle," is his
cry: "life is short, let us enjoy it whilst we may;"
and, acting upon this creed, youth vanishes in a
round of folly —in a whirl of excitement, that cannot but be as destructive to the moral principle as
it is inimical to the development of all the higher
faculties of the mind.
IBut whilst thus characterizing the youth of Italy
as a class, it would be unfair to deny that there exist many exceptions to this rule. Doubtless, amongst
the young men of Italy there are to be found many
to whonl  patriotism  supplies a motive to exertion
and an object in which they worthily invest their
sympathies. But whilst admitting this, it must be
owned that, if credit is to ble given to the words of
Italians themselves, there is but a small amount of
singleness of purpose, unselfishness of endeavor, and
honesty of action, to be found amongst the ranks of
the upper classes of their countrymen. It was a
melancholy thing to me to hear the strictures passed
by Italians upon themselves. Distrust seemed to
me to be widely prevalent; each man appearing to
suspect his neighbor of being actuated by merely
selfish aims. In Rome and Naples I have heard
Italians lament their unfitness as a nation for free institutions, from the low moral tone existing amongst
themselves. " Simoo trolI)o catiwvi" (we are too wick



120             LIFE IN TUSCANY.
ed) for free institutions, said to me a Roman gentleman belonging to the anti-papal party; and this is
the opinion of many a one in various parts of Italy.
In Tuscany this feeling contributes more to the stability of the hated government of the Grand Duke
than the army of Austrians he has at his command.
Anarchy seems to be more dreaded than despotism;
and the caprices of tyranny appear to be looked
upon as more endurable than the license of a mob.
In truth, the republican drama recently enacted
in Tuscany was little creditable to the inhabitants
of that land. Those times were certainly not to be
boasted of, when hydra-headed tyranny under the
name of liberty stalked abroad: and judging from
what I heard, the closing scenes of the revolution
resembled in character those exhibited throughout
its course.
" The concluding days of our revolution were truly
disgraceful ones," observed a lady, whose husband
had taken a prominent part in the proceedings of
the time. " It was really pitiable to see the way in
which many of our most prominent liberals deserted
their ranks through the influence of gold or fear. I
was in Sienna when the news of the reaction in
Florence arrived. The mob in the streets began to
hurrah for the Grand Duke. On hearing this, I saw
the chief man of our party in the town turn pale as
death, and tremble like a child.' What must I do?'
he faltered out.' Stick-true to your colors and prin



SOCIETY.                121
ciples,' I replied;'I, though a woman, would scorn
to do less.' Vain words! A few minutes had not
passed before he was shouting for Leopold, with the
Ducal colors attached to his dress. Gold, too, did
its work. Few were found like my husband to refuse the proffered bribe: republican patriots became
transformed into Ducal partizans in a few hours'
time."
"Our present Government is certainly a bad one,"
said a liberal Florentine merchant to me; " but our
republican rule was far worse. Liberty existed with
us but in name. Florence was tyrannized over by
a mob, each individual of which aspired to be king.
Neither property nor life was safe, and trade was
annihilated by the general feeling of insecurity that
prevailed."  "We were bought and sold," say the
lower classes of the people. " For the sake of gold
our leaders deserted their colors and us." Of a similar purport were many of the observations I heard
during my residence in Tuscany.
It cannot be doubted that the defects of character,
attributable to the Italians of the upper and middle
classes of society, spring in a considerable degree
from the despotic form of government to which they
are subjected. The energies of the human mind
cannot be altogether repressed; if denied vent in a
useful, rational way, they will make for themselves
an outlet of a widely different character. The fertilizing river, whose onward course between its




122             LIFE IN TUSCANY.
banks is checked by a strong dyke, will lay waste
the land around in unwholesome marshes. What
the dyke is to the stream, despotic institutions are
to the character. Liberty of speech and action denied, legitimate objects of ambition refused, mental
activity looked upon with suspicion and discouraged,
it is only a natural consequence that the innate
energy of the Italian character should exhibit itself
in an unworthy manner. Under other influences,
it may be that the Italian sensualist, adventurer
and gambler of the present day, would show himself
a worthy citizen, an unselfish patriot, and a true
benefactor to his country.
But, injurious as is undoubtedly the influence of
Italian government on Italian character, the faulty
social code of Italy is chargeable with the evil, in a
still greater degree: indeed, it may be questioned if
this source is not in itself the parent of all the evils
under which Italy groans; for tyranny and tyrants
are only the outward symptoms of a disease that
has struck its roots in the homes of the land. When
one man subjects many to his tyrannic sway, the
many must be in fault. An army is counted but
by thousands, a people by millions; and there is no
power in parks of artillery, or in military tactics, to
put or keep a nation down, when that nation,
worthy of liberty, determines to be free. Search
the annals of history, and it will reveal that the
public life of a nation is in a great degree the re



SOCIETY.                123
flex of its private one. With purity of morals will
be found associated national independence, wealth
and power; with corruption of morals, tyranny,
weakness and poverty.  If we would trace the
source of oppression of millions subjected to tyranny, or writhing impotently under the oppressor's
grasp, we must look into their homes and raise up
the veil that hangs over private life; observe the
mother, contemplate the wife, and watch the young
girl as she springs up from infancy to maturity.
It is an observation justified by experience, that
children ordinarily inherit their mental and moral
qualities from their mother. In the biographies of
great men this fact is evidenced in a very striking
manner, and proves how essential to the welfare and
greatness of any state is the development of the
mental and moral faculties of woman. By thus ordaining that children shall resemble their mother
in mental and moral constitution, Providence seems
visibly to interpose in behalf of the weaker sex, and
to claim for them respect, education and consideration; for practically does it say, through this means,
to men, "If you desire that your sons should be
clever, wise and good, develop as much as possible
those qualities in woman."  Unheeded, however, for
the most part, does that voice speak to mlankind;
and throughout the east, where woman is looked
upon either in the light of a toy or a slave, one sees
how terribly the injuries of the inmates of the ha



124             LIFE IN TUSCANY.
rem and the zenana have been avenged. Ignorant,
oppressed and weak, the women of the east have
entailed the curses of ignorance, weakness and oppression on the nations to which they belong.
To any one who mixes in the slightest degree in
Italian society, or converses with the inhabitants of
different grades in Italy, it will soon become very
apparent that domestic life in that country partakes
in its essential elements of the oriental type. Though
not secluded in the interior of her house, or veiled
and muffled up when she goes out to walk or drive,
the Italian lady has but little real liberty of action;
and in all that concerns the practical affairs and
most important interests of life, she may be looked
upon as a mere cipher, or a complete nonentity.
Should we examine her position in the various
stages of her history, as girl, wife, mother, or possibly widow, we should find her constrained and
fettered to a degree that seems inconsistent with
the fact of her possessing the attributes of a rational
being.
Nothing exercises so baneful an effect upon the
character as the destruction of self-respect. A despised race will almost invariably exhibit despicable
qualities. The evidence of mistrust has a tendency
to evoke the evil propensities of human nature, and
errors harden often into sin and guilt, if society puts
its ban upon the offender. As with the moral, so
with the mental qualities. Call a man a villain or




SOCIETY.               125
a fool, and deal with him habitually as such, and
he will not unlikely prove himself deserving of the
epithet you give him. In like manner, if women
as a class are looked upon with contempt, and are
treated as beings unfit for self-guidance and selfgovernment, they will be found acting in accordance
with their imputed characters. If an English woman is superior to an Italian woman, in mental
faculties and moral qualities, the fault lies not with
nature, but is traceable to that erring code of customs and opinion which treats the latter as if she
were a being from whom the great gift of reason
had been withheld. The hobbling gait of the Chinese woman is not a more artificial product than are
the weakness, vanity, frivolity and immorality
which stain the character of the women of Italy of
the present day.
The contrast between the position of an English
and Italian widow is a striking one. The former,
recognized by English society as an independent
existence, may even, though young, live where she
pleases, and spend her jointure according to her
taste. She may travel; she may live in town or
country, as her choice suggests: no one has the
power to control her, to regulate the expenditure of
her income, to dictate to her what she may and may
not do. But with the Italian widow the case is
often widely different; and not seldom is she subjected to a thraldom of the most grievous kind.




126            LIFE IN TUSCANY.
"My life is a burden to me," said a young Florentine widow to me, despairingly one day.
"Why so?" I asked.
"Oh, Signor Carlo is so cross and unkind; he
checks and thwarts me in every way," was the reply.
"And who is Signor Carlo, and what right has he
to interfere with vou?" I returned.
"Oh, Signor Carlo is a priest, whom my husband
made a guardian over me, and entrusted with the
management of my jointure and my affairs. Oh, it
is really too insufferable!" she continued passionately. " Scarcely an evening passes that he does
not come to make a note of my day's expenditure;
and then, if he finds that I have exceeded the ordinary amount by even a couple of pauls, he knits his
brows, and tells me that this must not occur again.
And if he sees a nice blazing fire in the grate, he
rebukes me for my extravagance.'Signora Teresa,
you must not do this, and you must not do that,' he
keeps on saying, till I cry with downright vexation.
Then, too, if I want a new bonnet or a new dress,
I have to beg and beg innumerable times before I
can get the money to purchase it. It is too bad -
indeed, it is -the way he acts; treating me like a
child, though a woman of upwards of thirty years
of age. It is intolerable to be kept in this subjection. I would to Heaven I were an Englishwoman! "
" But why do you permit Signor Carlo to keep




SOCIETY.               127
all your money in his hands, and to annoy you by
his constant presence and interference?"
"Cara mia," she rejoined, "how can I help it,
since my husband willed that I should get my income solely through Signor Carlo's hands?  And
that is not the worst of my lot either," she continued; "that might be borne; but it is intolerable
that Signor Carlo should be a spy on all my actions,
keeping a constant watch on all I do."
"Why permit him? Why not tell him you will
act as you choose?"
"I wish I could; but he has me completely in
his power, for by my husband's will my jointure is
to be transferred to a member of his family if I do
not show I am a buona vedova,* and exhibit the most
perfect discretion of conduct."
"Am I to understand that Signor Carlo is to be
your judge in this particular?"
"Yes; and he is perpetually on the watch to see
if I have got a lover. He thinks himself very cunning, I am sure; but sharp-eyed as he is, he has
never yet discovered that Beppo comes here."
"' Who is Beppo?"
"A young officer, a noble of Pisa, to whom I am
engaged. Unfortunately he is too poor to marry
yet, and so we must wait until he gets his next step,
which will give him additional pay."
* Good widow.




128             LIFE IN TUSCANY.
"You lose your jointure, then, if you marry, I
suppose? "
"Yes, certainly; or if my engagement to do so
be known. It is really droll to think of the way
that Beppo has to be smuggled off when Signor
Carlo arrives unexpectedly."
" You will be glad when this thraldom is at an
end?"
"If it were not for that prospect, I would not
live," she exclaimed; "or at least not live on in the
way I do. If it were not for Beppo, I should do
something desperate, I am sure."
In the character of this lady I saw a striking
illustration of the evil effects that flow from the
restraints imposed upon her sex in Italy. Scarcely
emerged from childhood, she, in obedience to her
mother's orders, became the wife of a man she did
not love, and who was in point of age considerably
her senior. Sadly did the years of her married life
pass by. Without children, without household duties (for her husband regulated all domestic affairs),
without an education that would have given her
resources of enjoyment in herself, she could only
look to society for happiness, for the means of filling
up in any way the vacuum in her existence; and
from this sole resource she was excluded by the decree of a jealous husband. As daughter first, as
wife subsequently - watched, guarded, mistrusted,
deprived of liberty of choice and action, in despite




SOCIETY.               129
of no mean natural endowments of heart and mind
— time found her a widow of thirty years of age,
in point of judgment, thought and feeling -a perfect child.
Although every widow lady in Italy may not
have the misfortune to be under the rule of a Signor
Carlo, it seemed to me, from what I heard, that the
practice was general on the part of a dying husband
to invest some one with the cbntrol over the management of the pecuniary affairs of his widow. Indeed, in many cases this might prove a wise provision for her welfare: for from the effects of the system of tutelage under which the Italian wife has
lived, she is so destitute of prudence and forethought
— so much the slave of impulse, so passionately fond
of dress-that with her income as a widow at her
own disposal, she is capable of spending in a week,
on the merest fripperies of fashion, the whole amount
of her annual income. Signora Teresa was no exception to this rule: she acknowledged that she was
dreadfully extravagant. The number of bonnets
and dresses she possessed was absolutely startling;
and nearly all the very small amount of pocketmoney allowed to her by Signor Carlo was expended
in the purchase of lottery tickets.
In a country where the intellectual faculties of
women are rated at a very low degree, it may readily be believed that education is a matter but little
attended to. Thus error tends ever to its self-per9




130             LIFE IN TUSCANY.
petuation. The weak and ignorant girl merges into
the weak and ignorant mother, and not feeling her
deficiencies, goes on in the old beaten track; which
results in daughters as weak and ignorant as she is
herself. So one generation of women follows another, impressed with the belief that the chief merit
of their sex is to look handsome, and their chief
duty to be well dressed. The course of instruction
for girls in the upper and middle classes of society
in Italy is of the flimsiest character: nothing is
taught of a nature calculated to develop their mental faculties. Beneath the thin varnish of accomplishments that an Italian lady possesses, the most
dense ignorance of the ordinary branches of knowledge may be found. I was intimately acquainted
with two young ladies in Florence, who were well
educated, according to the Italian idea of that term;
for they could play the piano tolerably well, speak
French imperfectly, and could say " Good-morning,"
and " Good-night," and half a dozen more equally
elaborate sentences in the English language. But
with these accomplishments, of which they were
extremely proud, neither of them could write without lines, or in any other than a child's large,
ill-formed characters; history they were ignorant
of; and the profundity of their ignorance of geography may be imagined from the fact, that neither
of them knew of the existence of the celebrated
Italian Lake of Como.  Geographical knowledge




SOCIETY.               131
would seem, indeed, from the results of my experience, to be classed somewhat among the unfeminine
branches of learning in Italy. "WXVhich is the farthest off, London or America?" asked a lively
Florentine lady of me one day. I gave her the desired information, with a secret wonder at the ignorance the question implied; but greater grew my
wonder, and severe was the test to which my gravity
was put, when, after a few moments of apparent
meditation, she exclaimed —" What a very large
city America must be! "
At a very early period of my residence in Tuscany, the mockery of the miscalled system of feminine education in Italy became to me most strikingly apparent. The most favorite schools for Florentine girls are those conducted by nuns and carried
on within the precincts of the convent, but there
are educational establishments to be found in Florence unconnected with the religious institutions of
the country. To an annual examination of the
girls belonging to a school of the latter description
I was invited shortly after my arrival in Florence,
when I was as yet but imperfectly acquainted with
the Italian language. Though doubtful of my ability to understand a scholastic examination carried
on in an unfamiliar tongue, I accepted the invitation,
and repaired at the time indicated to the appointed
place.
Great preparations had been made for the occa



132             LIFE IN TUSCANY.
sion, as if to invest the coming exhiition with a
character of importance and dignity. Across the
end of the room, where the examination was to be
held, extended a stage, gaily decorated with bright
colored drapery. Upon this stage a table and some
chairs were placed for the use of the examiner and
the pupils, and directly in front were several rows
of forms appropriated to the service of the audience.
The room filled rapidly, and the benches were well
furnished with occupants, when a grave, middle-aged
man emerged from a mysterious side door and took
his place on a seat occupying a central position on
the platform. On either side of him, four or five
girls, of ages varying apparently from ten to sixteen,
ranged themselves in order. The ladies, of whom
the company entirely consisted, kept a profound
silence, as befitted the importance of the scene, and
the examination began.
My doubts as to the sufficiency of my knowledge
of the language were soon dispelled, for I speedily
found that my endowments in this respect were most
ample for all the requirements of the occasion; the
questions asked being characterized by a ludicrous
degree of simplicity. Difficult, indeed, it was to
restrain a smile, when I heard girls, almost womanly
in their appearance, required to tell how many
vowels there were in the Italian language; and further, to exhibit a convincing proof of their knowl



SOCIETY.               133
edge on this point, by furnishing words in which
the vowels severally occurred.
s "Right, quite right," said the professor, applaudingly, as a girl mentioned bocca, in exemplification of
the use of the letter o; " and now," he continued, in
his consequential manner, " I write this word bocca
(mouth) upon this slate: you see it there; and I
require you to tell me what letter it is necessary to
add in order to convert bocca into boccia" (bottle).
The question was too abstruse for the girl addressed to answer; but the pupil next questioned solved
it triumphantly.
An examination conducted by the French master
was of an equally puerile and absurd character.
After requiring the French for-I, thou, she, it, etc.
-requirements not always successfully complied
with —he proceeded to make his pupils apply their
knowledge of the personal pronouns to the conjugation in French of the phrase, " To gain one's livelihood."  "I gain my livelihood," said one girl:
"Thou gainest thy livelihood," said another: and
so on round the circle, until " They gain their livelihood," was attained. In geography and history,
not even the most superficial examination took
place; and when the morning's performances came
to an end, I could not help wondering at the display
I had witnessed of gross incapacity on the part of
the teachers, and gross ignorance on the part of the
taught.




134             LIFE IN TUSCANY.
An evening exhibition that took place on the same
stage, was, in its way, of a much more meritorious
kind. Though the school was a large one, the same
young ladies who had exhibited their attainments
in the morning, and who were evidently considered
the show pupils of the establishment, once more
appeared upon the stage to display their dramatic
and elocutionary powers. French poems were recited with fluency and considerable grace, by girls
who had shown a far from intimate acquaintance
with French pronouns a few hours previously. Then
came a play, which was acted in a very creditable
manner; and the examination concluded with some
waltzing, which evidenced that the art of dancing
was, above all other branches of learning, the one
most thoroughly cultivated and understood.
From the reputation this school enjoyed, and the
number of pupils it contained, it was evident that
the system of instruction there pursued was not inferior to that adopted in any other similar kind of
seminary in the town. It was easy to see, indeed,
that the amount of knowledge displayed in the examination fully came up to the requirements of
society; for an observation I made, relative to the
ludicrous simplicity of the questions asked, seemed
to give rise, in the minds of the ladies I addressed,
to a sensation of surprise. It was truly not to be
expected, however, that those who had been subjected to precisely the same system of tuition them



SOCIETY.                135
selves should find anything to censure or to smile at
in that morning's scene.
When such is the state of feminine education
amongst the higher classes of Italian society, it can
excite no wonder to discover that, in the lower
ranks of female life, a state of the most dense ignorance prevails. Even girls who enjoy a very respectable position in the world remain quite ignorant of
the arts of reading and writing. The popular opinion on the subject of the uselessness of such acquirements to women, was strikingly embodied in a remark made to me by the wife of a respectable Government official at the Baths of Monte Catini.
Discovering that she was quite unacquainted with
the mysteries of the alphabet, I asked her how it
happened, that she, the daughter of a schoolmaster,
had not learned to read and write? " Oh, my father
said," she replied, " such knowledge was quite useless to a woman; and for all the good it did, it
would be folly for me to be at the trouble to learn,
and waste of time for him to be at the trouble to
teach me."  In towns, girls in the humbler walks
of life may chance to get a slight tincture of the
elements of learning; but in the country, a girl who
can read a page, or write a line, is quite a phenomenon.
The idea of a girl in Italy is indissolubly connected with that of a being devoid of all moral sense,
infallably preferring wrong to right, and who can




136            LIFE IN TUSCANY.
only he kept from harm and evil by the most incessant watchfulness. A mother's whole maternal duties towards her daughter seem considered in Italy
to be comprehended in the one act of vigilance.
"My daughter has never been, since she was nine
years old, for more than twenty minutes at a time,
out of my sight," said an Italian countess, boastfully; and by this declaration she appeared to think
that she merited to take rank in the world's esteem
with the mother of the Gracchi. A girl belonging
to the upper ranks of life in Italy is practically a
prisoner until she marries. Into society she must
not enter; neither in the morning fete, or in the
evening dance, is she permitted to display her charms
and graces. An occasional walk with father, or
brother, or mother, is permitted; but she must not
go outside the house unless accompanied by her
nearest kindred. To be seen alone, even but a few
yards from her father's door, would entail upon her
the deepest disgrace and heaviest censure. Kept
under a perpetual surveillance, every line she writes,
and every line she receives, are subjected to rigid
scrutiny.
The girl belonging to the humbler classes of society shares also, in a great degree, in the same restrictions on her liberty. The grown up daughter
of a woman keeping a; lodging-house in Florence
could not profit by my offer to take her to see the
ceremony of the Lavanda at the Pitti Palace, solely




SOCIETY.               137
because she was unable to procure a proper escort to
accompany her, in a ten minutes' walk through the
best part of the town, to the place where I resided.
A work-girl, going to her employer's house, has to
provide herself with some companion; and, in emergencies, I have sometimes seen a little child do duty
as duenna for the occasion. In the country, the
same rule prevails; no peasant girl is ever to be seen
alone: and equally in the higher as in the lower
classes of society would any infringement of the
social code, in this respect, be fatal to matrimonial
expectations. Under these circumstances, the proceedings of unmarried English ladies excite the
wonder and envy of their sex in Italy. Often have
I been amused at the way in which the most commonplace exploits have been magnified into heroic
actions; and not unfrequently did I find myself elevated to the dignity of a heroine, when utterly unconscious that I had in any way merited the name
assigned me.
Though marriage, in some degree, enlarges the
sphere of action of Italian women, the liberty it
gives is of a very limited character. An Italian
lady belonging to the middle classes of society,
whilst lamenting to me the evil influences which
resulted from the present social code of Italy, gave
an instance of how it had once personally affected
her in a very unpleasant manner.
"Some years ago," she said, 1" my husband, not




138             LIFE IN TUSCANY.
being able to leave Lucca conveniently at the time
there was some trifling business to be transacted at
Genoa, proposed to me that I should take my little
boy, and go there to settle matters in his stead.
I at once agreed to his suggestions, and went.
The journey was easily and quickly performed by
railroad and steamer; but the censure I brought
upon myself by traveling unattended by a gentleman, was of the severest description. If I had
committed some act of murder and robbery, I could
scarcely have been more blamed."
Even amongst the lower classes, neither age nor
matrimony gives a woman the privilege of walking
about alone in a strange place, without provoking
censure.  For instance, when I advised a plain,
elderly married female servant to visit the cathedral
at Pistoja, during a two hours' unavoidable detention there on her way by railroad to Florence, she
somewhat indignantly rejoined, " thatto walk alone
in the streets of a strange town, was an indecorum
she would be sorry to be guilty of."
If it were not a sorrowful spectacle, it might well
excite a smile to see the subservient public homage
paid by Italian women to the conventional regulations of decorum, whilst flagrantly contravening in
their daily life its essential principle. The same
lady who would shrink from  the impropriety of
traveling five miles alone, will not scruple to prove
false to a wife's highest duties. Sharing with men




SOCIETY.                139
in an epicurean tone of thought and feeling, every
womanly virtue is sacrificed at the shrine of pleasure. In the social life of Italy, vice presents itself
to the sight under a veil too thin to hide from the
least observant eye its offensive features. The drawing-rooms of the upper classes of the land, particularly in Tuscany, are filled with faithless wives and
false husbands. So flagrant and wide-spread is the
evil, that sin wears no blush, nor seeks a mask to
screen it. An English lady, who had entered much
into Italian society, told me that she was often
shocked at the confidences which married ladies
would force upon her; and when she told her husband that she must really give up acquaintance with
such persons, he answered, quite truly, that to act
consistently, she must then give up Italian society
altogether; for Signora A     and Signora B -
were not one whit worse than other ladies-frallkness alnd unreserve constituting the only difference
between them.
Few are the Italian girls who, on first entering as
matrons into the dissipated circles of Italian society,
escape its baneful influences. How, indeed, under
the circumstances, could it be otherwise?  The
whole training of the Italian girl tends to render
her a slave to impulse and a prey to temptation.
Marrying, most likely at her parent's bidding, a
man she does not love, and with her mind in all
probability already half corrupted by the conversa



140             LIFE IN TUSCANY.
tion she has heard in the drawing-room  of her
mother, she follows readily in the train of the ladies
she sees around. To resist the contagion of example, to make a stand for right in the midst of
a crowd of worshipers of wrong, requires strength
of mind; and strength of mind springs not from the
mockery of education that Italian ladies receive:
learning to dance, to sing, to conjugate French
verbs, and to play the piano. From empty minds,
and idle hands, evil naturally ensues. To fill up
the void of life, recourse is had to the excitement of
rivalry, of coquetry, to indulgence in gossip and
tattling. Each lady appears to try to excuse her
own proceedings to her conscience and to the world,
by making out that the conduct of her acquaintances is still worse. The light literature of France,
which constitutes her only study, tends farther to
her mental and moral degradation; its pages attiring vice in the most seductive and fascinating garb.
Finding their value estimated solely by the standard of good looks, dress becomes to Italian women
in all classes of society an absorbing passion. The
chief part of the existence of the Jlfarchesa or Contessa, is employed in the pleasing labors of the toilette; and the maid-of-all-work will not hesitate to
lay out half her miserable earnings on a light pink
silk bonnet.  A  young peasant girl ingenuously
confessed to me, that she thought perfect happiness
would be her lot were she only possessed of a silkl




SOCIETY.               141
dress and gold chain like mine. In short, were
woman to be judged universally by the moral and
mental attributes she exhibits in Italy at the present
day, the opinion might reasonably be entertained
that she was a being low in the scale of intelligence,
requiring perpetual tutelage, and unfit to be endowed
with the prerogatives of self-guidance and self-government.
Nothing but a change in the social code of Italy
can cure an evil that is a canker in the vitals of that
country. As long as a girl is considered by society
as a kind of chattel property, which may be disposed of by her parents to the highest bidder in the
matrimonial market, female degradation will continue. The laws of nature cannot be outraged with
impunity; and love, the life-stream of a woman's
being, becomes, when diverted forcibly from its natural course, a dangerous quicksand, in which honor,
purity, and every domestic virtue are engulphed.
The refusal of liberty of choice in the selection of a
husband, leads inevitably to the most evil consequences. Let society enact what laws it may in
reference to the matter, the young girl feels that she
has inherent rights which cannot be abrogated by
its dictum. Too weak for open resistance, she seeks
to contravene the projects of her parents, in regard
to her future establishment, by clandestine manceuvres. Concealment induces deceit, deceit gives rise
to falsehood and hypocrisy; and she stoops to de



142             LIFE IN TUSCANY.
spicable artifices to blind her mother to the fact that
she is carrying on a correspondence with some lover.
Successful or unsuccessful in her object, whether she
secures a husband for herself or has to accept one at
the dictation of another, the evil seed has been sown
in her heart, and can scarcely fail to ripen under
the baneful influences of Italian society. In the
following incident will be found a striking illustration of the contest of wits in regard to matrimonial
schemes, which goes on in Italy between mother
and daughter.
In the summer of 1856, a widow lady and her
daughter came from the city of Perugia to Leghorn,
for sea-bathing. The daughter was young and singularly handsome: with the dark eyes and hair of
Italy, she possessed the height and fair complexion
of England-a combination rare as it was attractive.
Her appearance out of doors (an event of rare occurrence) never failed to create a sensation. Admiring glances greeted the "Bella Perugiana" (as
she was called) at mass, and wherever else she might
be visible; young gentlemen walked up and down
before the house where she resided, to catch a
glimpse, if it were possible, of the young beauty.
It may well be imagined that, under such circumstances, the mother found her office of duenna no
sinecure. To do her justice, however, she seemed
equal to the emergency; for she did not scruple to




SOCIETY.               143
sacrifice her own convenience and ease to the discharge of her duty in this particular.
However useful servants might be, and doubtless
were, in her estimation, she held them as enemies to
be dreaded in her present situation; for how could
she feel assured that, through the means of a bribe,
they might not be induced to become a channel of
communication between her daughter and some
lover? The danger was too imminent to be gainsayed or denied; no vigilance on her part could prevent the occurrence of the evil she foreboded, if
servants, on any pretext or business, were admitted
into the apartments they occupied. Influenced by
this conviction, the anxious mother resolved, with
heroic self-denial, that she and her daughter should
act as servants to themselves, so that the presence of
strange attendants might be dispensed with altogether.  Accordingly, the young beauty had to
enact the housemaid's part, to make her own bed,
and to clean out her own apartment. In the discharge, however, of these prescribed tasks, it soon
became evident that nature had not designed the
" Bella Perugiana" to enact the domestic's part, for
she was constantly committing some piece of awkwardness in connection with the performance of her
menial duties. Scarce a day passed by that, in
hanging her towel over the sill of the back window
to dry, she did not let it carelessly drop down into
the small courtyard of a cafe immediately beneath.




144            LIFE IN TUSCANY.
As the distance, however, from the ground to the
first floor apartments was but small, the evil was
easily remedied, as some good-natured attendant
was always at hand to throw back the dropped article to the fair hands from which it had unluckily
slipped.
Thus weeks passed on: the mother had every
reason to be pleased with her daughter's conduct in
everything, save in the careless manner in which
she still continued to perform the housemaid's business; for in spite of chidings from the one, and
strong utterings of self-reproach on the other's part,
such illustrations of the principles of gravitation as
were referred to before, occurred frequently. At
length came a day of anger to the mother and of
confusion and dismay to the daughter, when the
origin of the young lady's awkwardness was revealed. The dupe of an ingenious artifice, the outwitted duenna, discovered that in every dropped
article which had been so kindly thrown back to
the beauty from the court beneath, a missive from a
lover had been enclosed; and by the same means,
pen, ink, and paper, to be employed furtively (if
possible), had been obtained. Under the mother's
watchful eyes, a close correspondence with a forbidden lover, who had followed from Perugia, had been
maintained. But vain were the daughter's wiles:
the iron bars of custom and prescription were too
strong for her to break; and like a bird who, after




SOCIETY.                145
vainly flapping its wings against the wires of its
cage, resigns itself to captivity, so the girl yieldedc
to the force of circumstances: when she left Leghorn shortly afterwards, she left it as the promised
bride of a wealthy nobleman. WVealth and rank!
what more could any heart desire? Nothing, certainly: the essentials for happiness were fully comprehended in those terms. At least, so thought the
mother; and as to the daughter, what her thoughts
on the subject were, mattered not-her destiny was
sealed.
From such a marriage evil must ensue: whether
dazzled by the seductive charms of wealth and rank,
or under the pressure of compulsion, she yielded
willingly or unwillingly to her mother's views, the
career of the "Bella Perugiana" is almost equally
sure to be a sinful and unhappy one. Bound to a
man she does not love, her heart and fancy filled
with the image of her deserted suitor, with an empty
mind, and time hanging heavy on her hands, an
adept in deceipt and artifice —what likelihood is
there that she will be able to resist the corrupting
influences of the society into which she is thrown?
Sad is it to follow up in thought her probable career,
to see the incense of admiration, readily offered,
accepted eagerly; to see mistrust, suspicion, jealousy,
or hatred, perhaps, and every element of discord
and unhappiness, take up their abode beneath the
domestic roof to behold the desecration of the
10




146             LIFE IN TUSCANY.
holiest duties of existence, and every household virtue flung aside or trampled under foot with shameless audacity-husband and wife alike unfaithful
to their vows-father and mother alike negligent of
their parental duties-children who can neither love
nor honor her who gave them birth-daughters as
artful as she was herself, and to whom, in turn, she
acts the duenna-sons old in vice at a youthful age,
frequenters of the " casino " and the gaming table
-old age ungraced with love and reverence, tormented with gnawing regrets after her faded loveliness, envy of the admiration proffered to youthful
beauties, and futile attempts to efface by art the
ravages that time has made in her once perfect
features. Sad and painful as is this picture, who
can say that under the circumstances the life of the
"Bella Perugiana" is likely to be different to the
one described?
Under the social code of Italy, even marriages of
affection are not likely to terminate much more
happily than those contracted from motives of interest and convenience. Though few in number,
marriages do sometimes occur where the young lady
marries the man on whom she has fixed, or rather
fancies she has fixed, her affections: for generally
in such cases the love professed is but a shadowy
growth of the imagination; since from the secluded
life she has been forced to lead, in accordance with
the Italian code of propriety, her whole knowledge




SOCIETY.               147
of the object of her choice is limited, generally, to
an acquaintance with his personal appearance. At
church most likely she first beheld him; and she
was not too much absorbed by her devotions to remark that his eyes were fixed upon her face with
an expression of admiration. She sees him following her home, to find out her name and residence;
and, day after day, she notices him passing and repassing, looking upwards at the window: from
which, like most Italian girls, she spends the greatest
portion of her time in gazing. Flattered by these
attentions, she speedily begins to think that the
young gentleman who has found such charms in
her is decidedly a very captivating person. She
finds amiability in his smile, agreeableness in his
eyes, and evidence of perfect taste in the fashion of
his coat, the curl of his moustache, and the shape
of his well-trimmed whiskers. The impression made
upon her heart she does not fail to evidence by her
smiles and glances. On this the gentleman, if in
independent circumstances, demands an interview
with the young lady's parents, declares his love,
makes known his fortune, his family and his expectations, and if his statements are deemed satisfactory,
the object of his choice is overjoyed to hail him as
her affianced husband, although she has never interchanged with him a single sentence.
Thus, with the tastes, the feelings, the real character of either party mutually quite unknown, it is




148             LIFE IN TUSCANY.
evident that it is a happy chance indeed which unites
together dispositions in any way congenial. In
ordinary cases, where no bond exists of community
of thought and feeling, a few short months of wedded life suffice to weaken or destroy the love which,
on either side, has been a mere creation of the fancy.
The dark eyes of Gertrude loose their charm, when
they are dimmed by peevishness or flash with anger;
and the graceful curl of Narcisso's moustache cannot atone for ungracious words and a careless and
cold demeanor. Mutual disappointment results, ere
long, in mutual indifference. Devoid of that cultivation of mind which would enable her to find resources of enjoyment in herself, Gertrude tries to
drown the remembrance of her domestic griefs and
trials in a whirl of gaiety; while Narcisso vies with
his wife in a sedulous desire to effect the same object, through a career of fashionable dissipation.
The frequency with which such results occur has
given rise to a proverb that embodies with vulgar
force the popular idea of the unhappy issue of love
matches in Italy; but it is evident that from marriages effected in the manner described, the merits
of the great principle of feminine liberty of choice
have not been compromised in the slightest manner.
The celebrated Silvio Pellico has referred to this
subject in very striking terms; and how fully his
mind was impressed with the conviction that a reform was urgently required in the social code of




SOCIETY.                149
Italy, the following extract from his writings will
unequivocally evidence:
" To the brief raptures of the honeymoon succeed
ennui, and the perception that the choice was precipitate. From the regrets of one or of both the
parties arise slights, offenses and daily bitter dissensions. The woman, the gentler and the more
generous being of the two, becomes commonly the
victim of the unhappy discord; either grieving to
death, or, what is worse, losing her natural goodness of disposition, she forms attachments through
which, it seems to her, she will find amends for the
absence of conjugal affection, but which eventuate
in nothing but remorse and shame. From  such
unhappy marriages proceed children who, for their
first school, have the unworthy conduct of the
father, or of the mother, or of both the parents;
children consequently uncared for or little loved,
destitute, or almost destitute, of education, without
respect towards parents, without fraternal or sisterly
affections, without an idea of the domestic virtues,
which form the basis of the national virtues. All
these things are so common that to see them we
need only to look around us. No one can tell me
that I exaggerate."
Words strong as these would not have been used
by such an ardent lover of his country as Silvio Pellico, if the evils alluded to had not been strikingly
apparent; and in no task could the Italian patriot




150           LIFE IN TUSCANY.
of the present day be more profitably employed than
in that of trying to extirpate the canker which is
preying upon the vitals of his country. It is but a
spurious patriotism that would gloss over or ignore
evils that can be remedied; and since, truly as Silvio Pellico says, the domestic virtues form the basis
of national virtues, Italy can never, under any form
of government, become great or prosperous, until
the homes from which her people issue are purified
from  the unholy influences pervading them  at
present.
The accomplishment of this object can only be
obtained by elevating the social position of woman,
in every stage of her career: she must be looked
upon and treated as an intelligent responsible being,
and not as one from whom the great gift of reason
has been withheld. As a girl, she should be liberated from the galling restraints by which she is now
fettered; she should be constituted the guardian of
her own honor, and the influences of a cultivated
mind and of moral principle fully developed, should
supersede the duenna's vigilant eye, as a check
upon impropriety of conduct. Her marriage would
then be an act emanating from her own free will,
and dictated solely by her own judgment and inclinations; and in her husband she would see the object of her love and choice, and not a constant galling memento of parental compulsion and tyranny.
UTnder such altered circumstances, love, springing




SOCIETY.               151
from the basis of mutual esteem, respect and confidence, would secure the sanctity of the marriage tie
from profanation. Truth, honor and virtue, instilled
by the mother's examples and precepts into the
hearts and minds of her young offspring, would
form the distinguishing features of their maturity;
and by. a race growing up under such auspices, the
glories of the mediaeval ages of Italy would be revived, or perhaps eclipsed, by the triumphs of her
sons in art, science and literature.
For nature, bountiful as of yore, still sows the
seeds of genius amongst the Italian people; but as
in the parable of the sower, the seed now falls in
stony places, where it can take no root, and by the
wayside, where it is trampled down, and thus never
reaches maturity. How much the elevation of woman would tend to foster and to stimulate the
growth of the precious germs which now die out for
want of nourishment and culture, is evidenced from
the number of women distinguished by their attainments, who shed dignity on their sex in the times
of Dante, Michel Angelo and Galileo. In the times
which produced a Bettisia Gozzadini, the pride and
ornament of the University of Bologna, of which
she was created a professor; that exhibited a Domitilla Trevulzia, to whose Latin orations flocked
crowds of listeners; when Isotta of Verona took a
foremost place amongst the disputants in public
controversies; when Novilla, the beautiful daughter




152            LIFE IN TUSCANY.
of the Professor of Law at Bologna, delivered lectures to students, as the deputy of her father, in his
absence; when Elena Piscopia dignified the University of Padua by the variety and profundity of
her attainments; and when a silver crown, encircled
with leaves of gold, was placed on the head of Laura
Bassi, in testimony of the admiration felt for her
genius and learning: in times illustrated by these,
and other names too numerous to mention, the position, the character of Italian women must have
been widely different from what it is at present;
and the spirit of the past, in this respect, must be
revived, ere the fame of a tarnished name can be
redeemed, and Italy assume a forward place in the
ranks of civilization.




CHAPTER VII.
THE PEASANT.
N no country of the world, perhaps, do
the signs of fertility, industry and abundance, so forcibly present themselves to
the stranger's view, as in the largest
portion of Tuscany. Art and nature, there
going hand in hand, produce a series of
rural pictures of the choicest, richest, and
most attractive description.  Through the
combined influences of a glowing summer sun, a fertile soil, and an elaborate system of cultivation, the
vales of the Arno, the Chian, the Ombrone, the
Nievole, and the plain of Lucca, teem with products
unknown to our less fruitful soil, and less genial
clime. From the carefully garnered harvest of the
olive tree, the peasant extracts the oil to feed his
evening lamp in the short days of winter. The vine,
until stricken by disease in recent times, afforded
him an abundant supply of a grateful and strength



154             LIFE IN TUSCANY.
ening beverage. In the Indian maize, which springs
up vigorously in his fields, he finds a nutritious food.
Fig, peach, pear, chestnut and walnut trees, drop
down to him their fruits. Flowers, the hot-house
nurselings or garden treasures of colder climes, ofier
spontaneously their rich and often highly-scented
blossoms to his view. With the bramble of the
wayside fence the sweet clematis twines; the small
singing bird, which frequents the copse, makes its
nest amongst myrtle boughs; the purple gladiolis
raises its head amidst the growing grain; and, in
many a grassy nook, the white petals of the gumcistus strew the ground. With its teeming soil, and
its varied produce, the primeval curse seems to sit
lightly on Tuscany.
The impress of art-of industry, no less than that
of a bounteous nature, is seen stamped upon the
land unmistakably. Fields, where not a weed is to
be discerned; farms, in which not one crooked or
useless fence is visible, where the sower follows quick
upon the reaper's track, and where the fresh turned
up sod is fast covered over by a bright carpet of
verdure; where, from dawn till dusk, the laborer is
seen plying spade or hoe indefatigably: all these
things, seen in various parts of Tuscany, attest that
the Tuscan peasant is far from being an ungrateful
recipient of the bounties of Providence. As the
traveler journeys in spring or summer through this
favored land, especially along the vale of the Arno,




THE PEASANT.               155
his onward course will be through scenes calculated
to suggest the idea of a realized Arcadia. Far as
the sight can reach on either side, farm after farm,
for miles together, displays the same richness of produce, the same economy of space, the same gardenlike degree of cultivation. Seen from a distance,
the tile-roofed dwellings of the peasant, rising invariably at least two stories in height, though devoid
of attraction as picturesque objects, seem to speak
almost as strongly of comfort and prosperity as do
the well-tilled fields, with their rich and varied produce, visible around them. Under the influences of
the scene, bright are the pictures that fancy calls up
before the traveler's eye, of the domestic life enjoyed
by the Tuscan peasantry: the daily board, with its
simple but abundant food; the daily toil, which exercises, but does not impair, the energies of the
frame; the clean, roomy kitchen, whose walls display a goodly array of delf; the tidy housewife,
with her dark hair braided smoothly beneath her
snowy cap; the stalwart husband, clad in his good,
homely, substantial suit; children, merry, healthy,
and respectably dressed, playing in the sunshine, or
clustering round the hearth; youth, happy, its joyousness lingering long, undimmed by the cares and
toils of a striving, struggling life; age, cheerful,
contented, the calm, peaceful twilight of a day
whose brightness had been but momentarily and
rarely overcast.




156             LIFE IN TUSCANY.
Unfortunately, however, between the real and the
imaginary in this, as well as in many other things
in the world, there exist a wide interval and a vast
dissimilarity. Not more illusive is the mirage of the
desert than is the picture painted in bright colors
by the traveler's imagination of the condition of the
Tuscan peasantry; and in both instances, a near
approach destroys the delusion: the comfort, the
well-being, the prosperity and contentment of the
Tuscan peasant being no more real than the gleaming lakes of water, the shady trees, and the bright
verdure which mocked from afar the hopes of the
tired wanderer. No more striking exemplification
of the truth of the old proverb that " appearances
deceive," can be found than that afforded by the
surface aspect of rural life in Tuscany.
To see the actual state of things with the Tuscan
peasant, let us visit him in his home, selecting a fine
day in early summer for this purpose. Quitting the
high road, we take a narrow pathway winding
through the fields in the direction of a substantiallooking two-storied house, whose red-tiled roof is
seen rising above an intervening screen of foliage.
Every yard of our progress, as we advance, is marked by features that cannot fail to be admired. On
either hand are luxuriant crops of grain alternating
with strips of lupin, vetches, peas and beans, intersected by rows of vines, whose long branches, hanging in rich festoons as they trail from tree to tree,




THE PEASANT.               157
close in the view in every direction; not a rood of
ground we traverse but bears the mark of neatness,
care and industry. No weeds, no crooked fences,
no yawning ditches are visible-all waste of space,
all waste of soil by useless vegetation, seem scrupulously avoided. Until we reach the immediate precincts of the dwelling, the rich picture is not marred
by one unpleasant feature; but once there-arrived
at our destination, the whole character of the scene
undergoes a complete metamorphosis. The evidences of neatness, care and abundance, disappear, giving place to signs as unmistakable of dirt, slovenliness
and poverty. The dwelling, which, viewed from
afar, had an air of comfort and respectability, appears, on close inspection, a cheerless and utterly
comfortless habitation: discolored walls, wood-work
from which almost every trace of paint has vanished,
windows without sashes or glass-mere large square
apertures in fact, crossed at regular intervals by iron
bars-present themselves to notice; and the vacant
space before the entrance door is littered over with
rubbish.
Inside, a still more dreary sight awaits us: stepping across the threshhold, we enter a good-sized
apartment, which serves at the same time as kitchen
and sitting-room for the inhabitants of the dwelling.
The light that enters freely through the large unglazed casement, reveals walls begrimed with smoke
and dirt, and blackened rafters. A bench here, a




158              LIFE IN TUSCANY.
table there, a stool and two or three decrepit-looking rushbottomed chairs, with a few pots and pans,
compose the whole amount of furniture visible.
Ascending by a steep ladder with a hand-rail, serving as staircase, we gain the second story, and find
the characteristic features of the scene below repeated in the foul, comfortless, and almost furnitureless
rooms, which are used as sleeping apartments by the
members of the household. Harmonizing well with
the aspect of the interior is the appearance of the
mistress of the dwelling; a dirty slattern, without
shoes or stockings, clad in a coarse gingham dress,'become, from the effects of dirt and age, of a kind
of nondescript color; her face, arms and neck, are,
through exposure to the sun, tanned to a dark brown
hue, and a quantity of black, tangled, disheveled
hair peers forth from beneath a red cotton handkerchief covering the back part of the head, and tied
beneath the chin. The children, clustering around
in scanty, tattered garments, with shocks of uncombed hair, and faces guiltless of any but a most
remote acquaintance with soap and water, correspond in air and aspect with the maternal model.
From a scene so little accordant with our expectations, we turn away with a sensation of mingled
wonder and sadness; and, retracing our steps, marvel at the strange discrepancy that exists between
the peasant's neat, trim, luxuriant fields, and his
dirty, slovenly, poverty-stricken habitation.




TIE PEASANT.              159
As regards the majority of the peasantry in Tuscany, the scene described presents no exaggerated
picture of the homes belonging to the mass of the
rural population. Dwellings and inmates superior
to the class described, may undoubtedly be found,
and such I have visited myself in various parts of
Tuscany; but even in the immediate neighborhood
of Florence, I did not enter one peasant's dwelling,
however outwardly imposing in appearance, that
was not characterized within by an air of discomfort
and poverty. One house, which gave me shelter for
half an. hour from a shower of rain, I particularly
remember, as affording a striking instance of the
deceptiveness of outward appearances. Almost deterred from entering by its size and aspect of gentility, I hesitated, fearing to intrude, until the sight
of one of its inmates at the door convinced me that
the dwellers beneath its roof belonged to the peasant class. As to size, many a gentleman in Great
Britain, with two or three hundred a year, lives in
a less capacious house; but as to comfort, it could
not be placed upon a par with the poorest laborer's
cottage I ever saw in England. In the numerous
bed-rooms through which I was conducted, at my
request, a low truckle bed, covered with a coarse,
dark-colored, dirty quilt, constituted the only article of furniture visible. One room contained a heap
of grain, another was devoted to the silk-worms'
use, and adjoining the kitchen (the family sitting



160             LIFE IN TUSCANY.
room) was an apartment occupied by cows and
calves. Dirt reigned supreme everywhere; ceilings,
walls, floors, dresses, faces-all had a dingy, begrimed and sordid look.
Seen through the medium of experience, the existence of industry amongst the peasant class in
Tuscany is quite an anomaly; for few instances can
be found elsewhere of the utmost powers of the human frame being voluntarily exerted, with no higher
rewTard in prospect than that of furnishing merely
the commonest necessaries of existence. Strange is
it, therefore, to find that the Tuscan peasant, who
works so indefatigably in his fields from early dawn.
till after the sun has set, possesses no greater stimulus to exertion than that afforded by the prospect of
gaining the means to afford a bare subsistence for
himself and family. If industry (as it is generally
held) be an ever gushing well-spring of fortune ancl
independence, then should the Tuscan peasant eat
with a silver fork, and fear the frown of no man.
Scarcely is one crop gathered in, when the ground
is upturned afresh with spade and hoe, and the yellow stubble of the harvest field is shortly succeeded
by another, showing the tender green of the young
sprouting plants of Indian corn. Not a vine is
allowed to trail its branches on the ground, and
every weed is extirpated by the careful laborer. As
if fearing to lose a moment of his precious time, he
works on with spade or hoe, even whilst answering




THE PEASANT.               161
the stranger's questions with ready courtesy. Long
as are the hours of the summer day, he knows he
has that to do which will keep him busy until the
sun has disappeared below the horizon. But not
alone does the contadino work; his labors are shared
by his wife and family. That dirty, dark-eyed woman, with the baby in her arms, has an existence
quite as laborious, if not more so, than that of her
husband. Besides the sufferings and cares which
the maternal position involves, she has to cut fodder
for the cattle, to tend, to feed, and to clean them,
and to take a share in outside agricultural labors.
Well may her face be sunburnt and stamped with
lines of premature old age, for her life is a hard and
struggling one, and will continue so until the grass
grows green above her head. Work, work, nothing
but work, save on the day when she washes her face
and combs her hair to appear at mass; husband and
wife are sharers alike in a toilsome and povertystricken existence.
Poor in quality, and often scant in quantity is the
food which sustains the lives of the Tuscan peasantry. When the landlord's share is deducted out of
their small patch of wheat, the portion that remains
serves but for a short time to afford a supply of
white bread for family use. In the absence of this
luxury, a dark, vile-looking compound of rye and
other inferior kinds of grain, made into a thick, flat
cake or clumsy roll, is generally eaten. Acting up11




162             LIFE IN TUSCANY.
on the idea that things are not in many cases at all
so bad as they appear, I ventured on the experiment
of trying the unattractive looking fare; but found
that in this case at least, the decision of the taste
fully confirmed the judgment of the eye; for, though
I am very far from being dainty on the score of
food, and am even obnoxious to the reproach of
having eaten, with positive relish, dinners which
have been indignantly denounced as insults to civilization and humanity, I must in truth confess that
it would require me to be tolerably far advanced in
the process of starvation, before I should feel the
least inclination to repeat the experiment I made
on the black bread which constitutes the Tuscan
peasant's staple food.
The French or kidney bean forms a favorite
article of food; the young pod is not eaten as with
us, but the bean only, in its maturity. Every peasant has his patch of beans; and this vegetable seems
to rank in popular estimation above the potato.
Rather a strange preference it seemed to me; for
though I strove to divest my mind of every insular
prejudice, and to attain to an exemplary judicial
state of feeling on the question, I could come to no
other decision than that the merits of a dish of potatoes were incomparably superior to those of a dish
of kidney beans; particularly when the latter was
served up in oil, the usual and favorite condiment
to everything.




THE PEASANT.               163
Black bread, kidney beans and porridge made
of Indian corn, constitute, it may be said, the fare
of the Tuscan peasant. Occasionally he has in the
summer or autumn season a few luxuries, such as
peas, tomatoes, cherries, figs and chestnuts* to vary
his unattractive food. Milk he seldom, tastes, for
the Italian peasant's cow is looked on as a means
of rearingo calves, and not of providing a nutritious
beverage for himself and family; and butter, it may
be said, as a general rule, is absolutely unknown.
The wife of a peasant, possessing several cows,
asked me one day what it was, then how it was
made, and listened to my explanation with much
apparent interest and curiosity. The butter I used
at the Baths of Monte Catini came some thirty
miles, from the dairy farms at Florence; and at Albano, a town containing several hundred inhabitants, the luxury was unprocurable; indeed, it is
only in those places in Italy where the English congregate, that butter is entitled to take its place in
the list of Italian produce.
From the ordinary dinner of the Tuscan peasant
an English laborer would turn away with a sensation of scorn and disgust, and the more so, when he
found that a cup of water was to prove its only accompaniment. Not always, however, was the peasant solely indebted for a beverage to the neighbor* Chestnuts form a staple article of food only in the mountain districts where they are grown.




164             LIFE IN TUSCANY.
ing well or brook, for, up to a recent period his
vines, now worthless from the blight, afforded him
a grateful, wholesome and strengthening drink.
With the fertile soil and the warm sun of Tuscany, joined to the indefatigable industry of the
peasant class, it is quite evident that their beggarly
aspect, their meagre food and their cheerless homes,
must arise from some peculiar evils in their position.
Devoid, generally speaking, of property in the soil,
the peasantry are yet very far from standing in the
same relation to their landlords as the two corresponding classes are to each other in England. The
English tenant pays to the proprietor of the farm he
cultivates a fixed annual sum of money; whilst the
Tuscan tenant is bound to render to his landlord
the half of all the produce raised upon his farm.
Wheat, wine and oil are divided, share and share
alike; and even in articles of the most trifling kind
the halving system is applied. Of every brood of
chickens the landlord can claim his half, and even
eggs may come under the operation of a similar rule.
The evident hardship of such terms is mitigated by
the fact that the landlord contributes, in some degree, towards the expenses of the cultivation of the
farm. He provides the house, supplies a moiety of
the requisite seed corn, contributes in the same proportion towards the purchase of cattle and of mulberry leaves for the silk-worms.  Even taking,
however, these landlord contributions into consider



THE PEASANT.                165.
ation, the bargain on the tenant's side seems evidently a far from favorable one; and, in the absence
of oppressive taxation, to this system of land tenure*
must be traced the comfortless and struggling life
led by the frugal and industrious contadino.
A secondary cause of the poverty that prevails in
Tuscany may be discovered in the density of the
rural population and consequent smallness of the
farms.  "We are too thick," they say themselves;
" our holdings are too small." This is true indeed,
in many instances, where a man's holding is limited,
as it sometimes is, to two acres in extent; the entire
produce of which would be required to afford to him
and his probably numerous family a comfortable
subsistence. Under such circumstances, a tenant
must be poor, however equitable or even liberal are
the terms on which his farm is rented. But mingled
with holdings of this minute description are others
evidently of a sufficient size, taken in connection
with the fertility of the soil, to afford, after the payment of a reasonable rent, a comfortable subsistence
to the cultivator.  Yet, in the aspect of a farm so
circumstanced, in the appearance of the occupier
and his family, in their mode of life, in the character
of their dwelling —although, in all these respects, a
marked superiority over the small holding class may
* This mezzeria, or in French metayer, system of land tenure prevails
throughout Tuscany.




166             LIFE IN TUSCANY.
be observed — the evidences of a hard struggling,
comfortless existence are still discernible.
A system, founded on the principle of equal divisions of the produce between proprietor and cultivator, wears to the stranger the aspect of one exceedingly difficult to carry out fairly in practice; on
speaking to the peasants, however, on this subject,
they all assured me that the assignment of the
shares was easily effected. Fraud on the tenant's
part is checked by means of the landlord's steward,
who keeps a vigilant eye on the tenant's proceedings, and who, from a careful inspection of the
growing crops, can calculate to a nicety how many
sacks of grain should await the landlord as his
rightful portion. In case the anticipated amount
be not forthcoming, or in case, through negligent
culture, the capabilities of the soil are not developed
in what may be deemed their proper degree, the
defaulting tenant has to yield his place to a more
honest or competent man. Changes of tenantry,
however, seem to occur but rarely; for though the
power of dismissal at a few months' notice rests
in the landlord's hands, it often happens that one
generation succeeds another in the occupation of
the same house and land. Cases do of course occur
from time to time, where, from exaction on the
landlord's part, or fraud or negligence on the tenant's side, one occupier gives place to another in a
farm; but, as a general rule, the peasant's home




THE PEASANT.              167
remains unchanged, if not for successive generations,
at least for many successive years.
Amongst the tile-roofed dwellings that thickly
dot the country, there may be seen every here and
there one wearing an air of greater dignity than the
rest, one possessing the luxury of glass windows,
and making a little pretension to embellishment in
the way of paint. This dwelling, on inquiry, the
stranger is pretty sure to find, is the one in which
the steward -fattore, as he is called - resides. A
very important personage is this fattore under the
land system of Tuscany. Into his hands the landlord-invariably a resident in town for at least nine
months in the year -commits the management of
his affairs. To thefattoire must the tenant apply for
money to help to purchase cattle, and all in the
landlord's covenant to supply; and to the fattore
must the tenant render account of every article of
agricultural produce raised and sold. From  the
position and duties of the fattore, it is quite evident
that, if dishonestly inclined, he has every facility
to become rich at the expense of his employer; and
that such a result frequently occurs may well be
credited, arguing from the common weaknesses of
humanity. There is a well known Tuscan saying,
which embodies the popular creed and experience
on this point: "_ate mi fatore per un anno se son
povero e ii mio danno," says the Italian proverb,
whose meaning runs in English thus: "Make me




168            LIFE IN TUSCANY.
a steward for a year, and it is my own fault if I am
poor." Easy, indeed, it is to believe that, from the
amount of produce, varying every year according
to circumstances, and from the absence of all check
over his proceedings, the steward's private stores
are often enriched by sacks of grain and barrels of
wine and oil belonging rightfully to his distant
employer.
Notwithstanding the proverbially alleviating influences of custom, the Tuscan contadini are far
from being insensible to the hardships of their lot,
and very far from being reconciled to the poverty of
their condition. In particular, I found the peasant
women loud in their complaints and lamentations
upon this subject. "We live like the beasts," they
would exclaim, when, at my desire, they showed me
through their comfortless dwellings; "to work
hard, and to fare badly, is our lot from childhood
to the grave. The hot sun scorches us in our hard
field work in summer, and the cold winter's wind,
as it enters through the many crevices of our wooden
shutters, makes us shiver in our beds."
"Oh, would to Heavens! I had never married,"
was a common exclamatiol with them, and they
would often declare that to rear up children in any
kind of decency was a task that wore out their
lives with trouble, anxiety and toil. " From morning to night," they said, " we slave and slave to gain
a scanty supply of the commonest necessaries of life.




THE PEASANT.              169
Ah! the hard existence which falls to the lot of a
mother of a family, can be hardly told."
Though from the interior aspect of their dwellings, it is quite evident that an absence of comfort
has invariably characterized the homes of the Tuscan peasantry, it cannot be disputed that their position has been much deteriorated by the vine
disease, which has, for the last eight years, prevailed
universally in Tuscany. The Tuscan grape was in
former times famous for richness and for sweetness,
and the wine it yielded was highly prized. According to the best authority, the process of wine-making
was better understood, and a greater number of
good wines was produced, in the Tuscan dominions,
than in any other part of Italy. From  France,
from Spain, from the Canaries, the best species of
vines have been imported by successive Grand
Dukes.  The lYfonteptlciano wine, termed by. an
Italian poet d'ogni vino il re, (" the king of all
wines,") was a product of the Tuscan State. The
Aleatico, the Columbano, the Trebbianzo, the Vernaccia,
also enjoyed a high repute. The rocky hills of Chianti produced a fine red wine; and from Artimino
came a claret that was highly famed. In those days
the wine-barrels of the peasant were never dry, and
every road-side tavern offered to the weary wayfarer, for a trifling coin, a refreshing and grateful
drink. In those days autumn was crowned with
beauty and mirth; and whilst the eye feasted on




170             LIFE IN TUSCANY.
the sight of the rich pendent clusters of bright-colored fruit, the ear drank in with pleasure the joyous
sounds that came floating in the air from the vineyards, where the busy vintagers plied their task.
But now, contrasted with the scenes of former
years, sad is the change which the universal prevalence of the vine disease has effected in the autumnal aspect of Tuscany.  No longer do rich
clusters of green and purple grapes present themselves in countless numbers to the traveler's viewno longer does the air resound with the vintagers'
mirthful voice and song. Though from tree to tree
the vine still twines its slender stems, and by roadside fences, in fields, by cottage doors, and on terraced heights, its graceful foliage meets the view;
the small, gnarled, unsightly knots of dried-up,
cracked, and blackened juiceless berries, which protrude amongst the changing leaves, are a hideous
mockery and corpse-like image of that beautiful and
delicious fruit, which in every age has been the
favorite theme of poetry and song. The wine-press
of the peasant stands unused, his barrels are dry
and empty; and as autumn after autumn the blighted produce of his vineyard meets his eye, his heart
sinks within him in despair, although he fails not
still to utter fervent prayers for the recurrence of
the good old times.
Not merely, however, does the peasant mourn the
loss of a pleasant beverage, in the destruction of his




THE PEASANT.              171
grape crop; this privation forms but one of others
still more grievous, arising from  that source. In
former years, when the vine yielded an abundant
and delicious fruit, the peasant could calculate, after
deducting the landlord's share, on the possession of
many more barrels of wine than what would be
required for his own and family's use. This surplus
(always the best) being sold, afforded the means of
purchasing, besides many little comforts, articles of
prime necessity, such as clothes. " Our wine was
food, and drink, and covering to us," said a peasant,
talking on the subject to me: "it quenched our
thirst, and refreshed us in the summer's heat, it
warmed us in the winter's cold, it gave us strength
to work, it enabled us to do with far less food than
we eat now, it bought us clothing for ourselves and
children. With these old worn-out garments that
you see, we must content ourselves, until the Almighty is pleased in his good providence to give us
back our wine again."
NVith not less fondness than the Irishman clings
to the potato, does the Tuscan peasant to the vine.
Though now for several years nothing but shriveled
bunches of arid, blighted berries has rewarded his
care and toil, he still, spring after spring, devotes
day after day of his precious time to the training
and pruning of his once valuable, but now worthless, tree. Anxiously he watches the forming of the
fruit and the sprouting of the leaves; and learning




172              LIFE IN TUSCANY.
by experience to put no confidence in the luxuriant
aspect of the vine in early summer, he waits with
keen solicitude, with a kind of despairing hope, for
the arrival of the time at which the first symptoms
of the disease are accustomed to appear. Closer
and closer does he examine his vines, as the month
of June wears onward to its end; he calls to mind
the date on which at the last, or previous years, he
had marked the presence of the disease, and if the
date passes, without the dreaded signs, his hope
grows stronger: the curse, he begins to think, has
been withdrawn. His spirits rise at the prospect of
a recurrence of the good old times, and he dreams
of tasting once again a glass of his loved wine.
Vain hope, which the morrow perchance dispels.
To a stranger's eye, the whitish aspect of the leaf,
or a slight curling of its edges, appears but the
effect of chance or accident, of dust or heat. But
the peasant knows too well those fatal indications.
His brow contracts, and his face becomes overshadowed with a cloud, as he notes indications which, he
knows well, forebode another wineless year. As day
by day leaf after leaf assumes a similar look and
hue, he feels assured that the doom of his crop of
grapes is sealed; though as yet the thick clusters of
small green berries show not a visible symptom of
disease. But not the less is the disease at work,
poisoning the life-blood of the plant. As time wears
on, the berries, instead of growing larger under the




THE PEASANT.             173
influence of the glowing sun, acquire a dry, shriveled, whitened look: often cracking, they burst in two;
some dry up utterly; others, stunted and acid, make
a faint attempt to attain a purple hue; another portion assumes a mildewed look; another turns black,
or rusty-brown. With the recollection of former
times still vivid in his mind-with the remembrance
of the glorious clusters of bright green and purple
grapes that in former vintage seasons met his viewwell may the peasant turn away from his blighted
vines and their worthless fruit, with feelings of disgust, despair and sorrow combined.
In the season of 1856, the vine disease did not
rage quite so violently in Tuscany as it had done
in the previous six or seven years: here and there
occasionally, amongst the blighted produce, a few
clusters of sound grapes were to be found. In some
large vineyards, even, there was an attempt at making wine; but, judging from what I witnessed personally, the attempt resulted inll a lamentable failure:
as far, at least, as the production of a pleasant or
healthy beverage was concerned; for, in addition
to the really small quantity of untainted fruit that
was to be found, the grapes were gathered before
they were nearly ripe, in consequence of the pilfering by children of the rare dainty. And from a
heterogeneous mixture of unripe grapes and of grapes
both slightly and extensively affected by disease, the
result may be inferred-a wine, a mere mockery of




174             LIFE IN TUSCANY.
the name: pale, thin, weak, and as acrid as a sloejuice.
One absurd theory as to the origin of the vine disease prevails extensively amongst the Tuscan peasantry; the smoke arising from the coal used in the
engines being alleged to exercise a deteriorating
influence on the air; and very frequently I was
asked my opinion whether the railroads were really
the cause. " Were there railroads in England?" I
was asked invariably by the contadina in reference
to this point. On my giving an affirmative reply,
the question immediately succeeded-if the vines
were healthy there? — a question the answer to
which, as may well be supposed, tended nothing to
convict or acquit the railroads of the crime alleged.
In addition to the railroad theory of the origin of
the vine disease, another was started no less sage;
but, unfortunately for the adherents of this latter
creed, time proved its fallacy in the most irrefutable
way. As before stated, from 1847 to 1856, owing
to causes of a political nature, no public carnival
festivities took place. Now, as it happened that
with the first year of this omission the vine disease
appeared, and continued to rage violently in the
subsequent eight years of suspended carnivals
throughout the land, an inference was drawn from
this coincidence by some wise heads, that there must
be a mysterious connection between the two eventsthat, in fact, the vine disease originated in the non



THE PEASANT.              175
observance of the season set apart for popular festivity from time immemorial in Tuscany. From
this idea followed, as a logical consequence, the
belief that with the restoration of the carnival in
1856, the vines would recover their ancient vigor; a
belief unfortunately doomed to be destroyed by the
autumn experiences of that year.
Little is it to be wondered at that ideas such as
those described in reference to the origin of the vine
disease, should prevail extensively amongst a peasantry so ignorant as is that of Tuscany almost universally. Throughout the country, schools are rare;
and, in those that exist, a very infinitesimal amount
of knowledge is communicated. To the teaching of
the arts of reading and writing, the endeavor of the
master is generally limited; and to the acquirement
of these two branches of knowledge, are the aim
and desire of the pupil as generally restricted. Even
amongst persons occupying what may be termed a
respectable position in society, and amongst persons
endowed by nature with a considerable degree of
intelligence and quickness of comprehension, the
grossest ignorance of the rudiments of knowledge
may be often found prevailing. In the country
lodging-houses and hotels where I have been staying in Tuscany, it was no rare thing to find that, to
the master or mistress of the dwelling, the simplest
Italian book was about as intelligible as an inscription in the Cuneiform characters might prove to the




176             LIFE IN TUSCANY.
world in general. Often did it fall to my lot to keep
an account of expenses incurred, the correctness of
which was only tested by some primitive system of
self-invented mental arithmetic. At the very best,
an imperfect acquaintance with the arts of reading
and writing, and a mere smattering of arithmetic,
constitute the utmost amount of knowledge obtainable, or obtained, by the rural population of Tuscany at the present day.
Did the peasant women of Tuscany pay more
attention to their appearance; were they neater,
cleaner, and tidier in their persons, they would decidedly, in regard to looks, be entitled to considerable praise; for nature has been for the most part
decidedly liberal and kind to them in that respect.
But, as it is, with their uncombed locks, their dirty
faces, their slatternly style of dress, and their complexion spoiled by exposure to the weather, notwithstanding their large, bright, hazel eyes, their white
teeth, and their thick tresses of black hair, they
often present an exterior far from agreeable. The
bloom of youth fades rapidly, owing to the hard
life they lead, and owing also, perhaps, in some degree, to the senseless sort of out-door head-dress
they wear, which leaves their faces completely exposed to a summer's scorching sun. Strange it is,
that almost universally in every land and clime, in
every class of society, we find the dictates of comfort and convenience completely disregarded and




THE PEASANT.             177
set aside by women, in reference to the form and
fashion of their attire. In Tuscany, where the midday's summer sun shines with a dazzling, blinding
glare-where the heat from the same source pours
down with a scorching intensity-the peasant women
seem to have been unable to devise a better covering for the head than a large straw hat, the limp
leaf of which, instead of shading the face, for the
most part hangs or flaps back quite over the crown,
or a cotton handkerchief folded crossways, placed
on the back part of the head, and tied by its two
long ends beneath the chin. In neither case is the
face protected from the heat, or the eyes shielded
from the light, in the least degree; the effects of
this exposure are seen in the coarse reddened skin,
and in the forehead prematurely furrowed by the
instinctive effort made to screen the eyes from the
dazzling glare: an effort that results in the habitual
contraction of the brows. In the country districts
only onfesta days, when their best attire is donned
to go to mass, do the countrywomen ever resort to
any means to shade their faces from the sun; and
then the means employed to effect this purpose
wears to a stranger's eye quite a ludicrous air, consisting, as it does, of a large fan held up perpendicularly before the eyes.
The observations made in reference to the appearance of the peasant women of Tuscany will also
apply in a great degree to the exterior of the men:
12




178            LIFE IN TUSCANY.
very good looking specimens of humanity, for the
most part, are they, with their Sunday faces and
their Sunday clothes; but on working days their
unwashed and poverty-stricken look detracts considerably from their natural advantages. Though
in stature below the average English height, as are
the women also, they are, for the most part, strongly
and symmetrically formed-a circumstance that appears something of a marvel, considering the barbarous system of compression to which infancy is
universally subjected in Italy, by the means of
swaddling clothing.  Ignorant as they are, the
manners of both the men and women are characterized by a politeness that, coming from the heart, is
far more winning than the cold courtesy which is
the offspring of artificial rules; and very pleasantly
and melodiously did their "felice giorno," or "felice
sera," with which they never failed to greet me, fall
upon my ears. On entering their dwellings, the inmates there would exert themselves to perform the
rites of hospitality to the stranger visitor; and
whilst many a regret was expressed that they had
not a glass of wine to offer me, I was often presented with fruit and flowers, and in default of these,
some young pea or bean pods (the contents of which
it is the custom to eat raw in Italy) were put into
my hands. Could I not stay a little longer? and
would I not come again? were the phrases I constantly heard on my taking leave; and the burden




THE PEASANT.               179
of many an unfulfilled verbal obligation in this regard is resting on my conscience to this day.
Genuinely courteous as I ever found the peasantry,
the urgent solicitations which I invariably received
from them  to repeat my visits to their dwellings,
were the result, most probably, of a feeling stronger
even than politeness acting upon their minds. Far
different from the country life of England is that of
Tuscany, for whilst in the former three classes of
society may be found existing side by side, in the
latter there is but one. In England the cottage of
the peasant rises in close vicinity to the dwelling
of the retired tradesman, the independent yeoman,
or the residence of the peer and country gentleman;
and from this arises a mingling in some degree of
the upper and middle with the lower class of society.
The ladies from the Hall superintend, perhaps, industrial schools, visit the cottages of the poor, send
bowls of nourishing broth to pining invalids, and
gifts of money or clothes to such as are in need,
whilst, in a more limited degree, the retired tradesman's and the yeoman's famnily contribute to the
comfort and well-being of the necessitous classes of
the community amongst which they live. But in
Tuscany a very different structure of society, a very
different order of things exists. Not scattered over
the surface of the country, as in England, but concentrated in towns, are to be found in Tuscany the
upper and middle classes of Italian society. It is




180             LIFE IN TUSCANY.
true that, occasionally, here and there, the traveler's
attention is attracted by a mansion whose size and
air announce it to be a rich man's property; but for
at least nine, and probably ten, months in the year,
that mansion, large and handsome as it is, remains
uninhabited; for the rich Signor Magnane, or the
Conte Baldino, loves too well (as does also his family) the town, with its society, its amusements, its
parties, balls, concerts and theatres, to relish a quiet
country existence.  Except, therefore, during the
months of July and August, when the heat renders
the atmosphere of a town unhealthy and oppressive,
the nobleman's or gentleman's country seat is consigned to silence and solitude. Even, too, for the
time that the family may be resident at the place,
no intercourse of any kind occurs between them
and the peasantry in their vicinity.
The Italian lady never walks out if she can avoid
it, except perhaps in some gay promenade, where
she may display her costly toilet, to excite the
admiration or envy of her acquaintances. Having
no conception of any other kind of pleasure than
that arising from excitement, no idea of any other
duty than that of striving to look handsome, she
spends the "villegiatura" season in listless indolence,
sleeping away the greatest portion of the long, tedious twenty-four hours of her daily existence. The
very idea of visiting a peasant's cottage and talking
to the inmates, would disgust her excessively-she,




THE PEASANT.               181
with her silks and satins, her long trailing robes, to
pass the threshhold of their doors -she, rich and
well-born as she is, to concern herself with the interests of poor and ill-clad people -what a preposterous supposition, what an absurdity! Not that
she is devoid of charity-not at all; but her idea of
that virtue begins and ends with dropping a soldo
into a beggar's hat, with conferring a crazia on some
distorted cripple, or of contributing a paolo to the
mendicant friar, who, with box in hand, solicits
alms for the liberation of some suffering soul from
purgatory.
With the same tastes for social pleasures as the
class described, the prosperous merchant or tradesman never thinks of providing himself with a country house, where he may take up his residence permanently, and spend his declining days. At the
most he builds, or rents, a villa (probably in the
immediate vicinity of a town), to which he and his
family repair for a month or six weeks, perhaps, in
the hot season of the year. Thus, unlike England,
where country life presents to view a blending of
the different classes of society, that of Tuscany, it
may be said, exhibits one class alone. Remote from
the sphere of the affluent and well-born, the peasant
lives and dies, and in the stylish carriage which envelops him in a cloud of dust as it dashes past him
on the- highway, he but very rarely catches even a




182            LIFE IN TUSCANY.
momentary glimpse of those whom the labor of his
hands goes to sustain.
Cut off, thus, from all intercourse with the upper
classes of the land, a strange sight did it appear to
the peasant and his family to behold a person in
the attire of a lady entering their doors. When
in addition, too, they found that the lady was a
foreigner, and had come from a country which they
had all heard of as a country supremely rich and
grand, the marvel at, and interest in, the apparition
was heightened considerably. Many were the questions I had to answer about myself and the country
from which I came. "Was I married? How did
the peasants live in England? Were they rich?
Did the vines give good wine?"  Being obliged in
answer to this latter question to confess the poverty
of England in regard to vines, my words were always echoed by my auditors in a tone of profound
surprise. "No vines in England! was it possible?
how strange! they had always thought that England was the richest and most fertile country in the
world."  Still greater and greater grew their wonder when they heard that not only had we no vines
in England, but that we were destitute also of olives,
figs and maize. At this information, whilst exchanging glances of astonishment, they would exclaim,
Sanctissima Veryine! what a poor country it must
be! how can the people there manage to support
their lives?"  The commiserating tone in which




THE PEASANT.               183
this remark, or others of a similar purport, was certain to be uttered, always amused me highly; and
no less droll was it to see their puzzled look, when
they tried to reconcile our miserable destitution of
the good things of life-the absence of olives, wine
and maize -with the fixed idea they entertained,
that every individual of the English nation rejoiced
in a commanding stature and brilliant color, in addition to a well-filled purse. Some concluded that
the air must be very nourishing, though certainly
the English did not look as if they lived on air;
others gave up the matter as an inexplicable mystery, contenting themselves with repeating in a
marveling tone that it was very strange.
In addition to the vine disease, the peasant has,
during these late few years, been subjected to two
other grievances of a serious kind. In consequence
of the expenses to which the maintenance of the'
Austrian army of occupation in Tuscany gave rise,
the land-tax has been increased considerably — a
measure severely felt, in consequence of the low
state of the peasant's exchequer, owing to the loss
of his grape crop. The alteration which has recently taken place in the laws relating to military
service also is one that affects the peasant very prejudicially. Under the conscription system formerly
in force in Tuscany, six years was the term which
the conscript had to serve; but recently the term of
years has been increased to eight; and in conse



184              LIFE IN TUSCANY.
quence of this increase, as well as from the severe
system of army discipline (borrowed from Austria),
that has been lately introduced, the price of substitutes throughout Tuscany has become double, or
even treble, what it was. In former times the peasant, for a few scudi, could- easily find a person willing to serve in place of the son, who, just arrived at
that time of life when his labor became most valuable to his family, had been seized for military
bondage under the operation of the conscription
laws. Now, the peasant, if in such circumstances
as to render the services of his son an all-important
object to retain, must, from the difficulty of procuring substitutes, pay a price for one that, if not at
times beyond his means, is always beyond his power
of doing, without a hard struggle, entailing sacrifices of the most painful kind. Many were the complaints and lamentations upon this subject that I
heard: and not a little does this grievance serve
to nourish the feelings of disaffection towards the
Grand Duke and his government, which prevail
generally throughout Tuscany.
In some parts of Tuscany — for instance, in the
Lucchese territory - a considerable spirit of enterprise exists amongst the lower classes of the community. From amongst the dwellers in the chestnutclad Apennine hills and glens (as has been already
stated), a large number of hardy laborers go forth
yearly to till the Corsican soil; others from the




THE PEASANT.              185
same district wander off to gain their bread some
way or another in England or America. Even
amidst the rich plains that encircle Lucca, I found it
was a common thing for the younger male members
of a large family to seek employment in foreign
lands. One stout young lad I spoke to was on the
point of starting off for France, where, on a railroad,
which he said was being made three hundred miles
beyond Marseilles, he hoped to be employed at
wages of three francs a day. Others, from the same
district, after a voluntary exile of some years, had
returned from America, to take up their dwelling
in their native land, with an amount of dollars that
rendered them the envy of their relations and
friends. To the poor Tuscan peasant the sums thus
accumulated, though to English ideas moderate in
amount, sound magnificently grand; for it needs
but the possession of so many scudi as might make
up an income of forty or fifty pounds a year, to confer on the rustic proprietor the reputation of a millionaire amongst his humble neigbors.
Much as the stranger is likely to be favorably
impressed by the courteous manners and industrious
habits of the Tuscan peasantry, it cannot escape
the observer's notice that much of the comfortless,
squalid aspect of the contadini's life is caused by
circumstances for which they themselves are in a
great degree to blame. Not only in the valleys of
the Arno, where the peasant is liable to be dispos



186             LIFE IN TUSCANY.
sessed at a few months' notice, but in the plains of
Lucca, where the tenant, so long as he pays a fixed
annual rent of so many sacks of corn, enjoys a permanent tenure of house and land, the same uncleanliness is to be found prevailing in the habitations of
the peasantry, as well as in their attire and persons.
Small, indeed, would have been the expenditure of
money required to whiten the smoke and dirt-stained
walls on which I looked, and slight the amount of
time which would have satisfied the claims of personal cleanliness. Though their meagre fare, their
homeliness of dress, be not the contadini's fault, yet
on themselves most certainly must rest the blame of
wearing tattered clothes, and living in houses where
the dust and dirt of years encrust the walls, ceilings,
floors and furniture, and where vermin, fostered by
the congenial atmosphere, swarm often in excess.
An indifference to cleanliness, indeed, partakes of
the nature of a national vice, which is equally apparent in carpets stained and disfigured by spitting,
amongst the upper classes, as in the foul dwellings
of the poor, and in the peasant woman's disheveled
hair and unwashed face. A happy day will it be
for Italy when the great merits of soap and water
come to be generally recognized.
The production of silk constitutes an important
part of the avocations of the Tuscan peasantry; for
in almost every contadino's house silk-worms are
reared. Few farms, however small, are devoid of




THE PEASANT.               187
mulberry trees; but as in some farms there are more,
and in others less, than their cultivators have need
of, an active traffic in mulberry leaves, during the
spring and summer months, takes place. Some
mulberry trees are forced to produce three crops of
leaves in the season to feed three successive generations of silk-worms; but the trees are considered to
be much weakened and injured by being so frequently docked and stripped. The hatching of the
eggs of the silk-worm commences in the month of
April, and is generally effected by artificial heat;
the women carrying them about their persons during
the day, and placing them beneath the mattresses
of their beds at night. On Rogation Sunday, the
peasants, both men and women, with the eggs of the
silk-worms in their bosoms, go in procession to
church to solicit the protection and favor of San
Jolo, from whose wounds, it is believed, the silkworms issued. As at the beginning of the process,
so the conclusion of the silk harvest is terminated
by a religious solemnity; for each peasant, taking
from his store a few cocoons, repairs with them to
his parish church, and lays them on the altar as a
thank-offering to providence. These cocoons, so
deposited, become the property of the' priest, who
sells them, either for the benefit of the poor, or to
enrich his own exchequer, according as he may be
charitably or selfishly inclined.
The silk crop is an uncertain one; for, even with




188              LIFE IN TUSCANY.
the greatest care, the silk-worms occasionally become
diseased and die. A good deal of skill is requisite
in their management, to produce a prosperous result; for at certain stages of the silk-worm's growth
they become extremely susceptible to harm-the
slightest touch or the most trifling noise, as I was
told, being capable of affecting them prejudicially.
Such crises occur during the five moulting sleeps
through which they pass; after each of which they
waken up, increased in size and with increased vigor
of appetite. Progressively, however, as their eating
capabilities are developed during their successive
states of repose, the wakening up from the last sleep,
called la grossa, arrayed in a final coat, is followed
by a display of gormandizing powers astonishingly
great: ravenous with hunger, they eat on incessantly
for a space of eight or ten days; the supply of leaves
required for their never-ceasing repast is enormously
large; * and a happy moment is it for the contadino,
when he sees the worms refuse the food that for
many days they had been devouring so voraciously,
and, climbing up the branches of the trees he has
placed beside them, begin their work.
Very assiduously do the worms labor at their task
for four or five days' time; at the end of which,
having quite enveloped themselves in their silken
sepulchre, they undergo a different fate, according
* A silk-worm consumes within thirty days a quantity of food about
6 0,000 times its own primitive weight.




THE PEASANT.               189
to the purposes they are allotted to fulfill. Such
cocoons as are destined to manufacturing uses are
plunged into boiling water to kill the worm within;
whilst other cocoons-which are reserved for seed,
as it is termed-are strung together on a piece of
thread, and hung up against a wall. From the
cocoons treated in this latter way there issue, in a
few days' time, large white moths of the most sluggish nature, which never quit the cloth prepared
for their reception: there, having deposited their
eggs, they languish and die.
Not to the present, but to the former, political
institutions of Tuscany, is the garden-like cultivation of the country ascribable. When the rest of
Europe exhibited nothing but poverty and barbarism, the open country belonging to each republican
city of Italy had its fertility developed by an active
and industrious peasantry, through the medium of a
system of scientific agriculture. Though then, as
now, the proprietors of the soil were inhabitants of
the towns, the merchant landowners of former times
contributed money far more liberally towards the
cultivation of the land, than do now their impoverished successors. By them alone was the land-tax
paid; at their cost were dikes and canals constructed: the former as a preservative against inundations,
the latter to increase by irrigation the productive
powers of the rich plains. The grand canal of Milan, which spreads the water of the Ticino over a




190             LIFE IN TUSCANY.
large part of Lombardy, owes its existence to those
times; and at this day in Italy,* after a lapse of five
centuries, the districts formerly free, and cultivated
by a free peasantry, are easily distinguishable from
those where feudalism  prevailed. Through those
five ages, amidst all the changes that have occurred
in Tuscany as well as in Lombardy, have been
handed down from father to son, the knowledge
and the practice of a system of agriculture, which
offered in bygone times, as it does now, a model for
imitation to other lands. And much, truly, is it to
be desired that the time may arrive before very long,
when the Tuscan peasant's home will bear in character some resemblance to his fields; that the riches,
neatness and cleanliness without will find a counterpart in the scenes within; and that his toil, filrnishing him with more than the mere means of life, shall
surround him with some of the comforts of a civilized existence.
* Sismondi.




CHAPTER VIII.
MANNERS AND INCIDENTS.
USCANY enjoys the reputation of
being the cheapest place of residence
in all Italy; and, certainly, though
the inhabitants of the Grand Duchy
complain bitterly of the rise of prices in articles of food that has recently taken place, to
the English stranger the cost of living, even
under the present order of things, will appear
surprisingly low. A Tuscan scudo, the value of
which is about 4s. 5d. in English money, will, as far
as lodging, food and amusements are concerned, go
nearly as far in Florence in ministering to such
wants as a sovereign in London. For instance, in
the newest and cleanest part of Florence, in the immediate vicinity of the Piazza Maria Antonia, a
bed-room and a sitting-room of moderate size on
the first floor, most comfortably furnished, can be
procured at the rate of twenty-seven shillings a




192            LIFE IN TUSCANY.
month. For two paoli, eleven-pence English money,
an excellent simple dinner from a cook's shop, or
trattoria, can be obtained, consisting of a soup, two
dishes of meat, and one dish of some kind of vegetable. For a couple of paoli, also, the doors of the
opera-house fly open, where first-rate vocalists,
like Mdlle. Piccolomini, are heard, and first-rate
operas are performed. In short, for persons of scanty
means, nowhere, perhaps, can the always unpleasant duties of economy be so agreeably practiced as
in the Tuscan capital.
In England, in London especially, sixty pounds a
year constitutes an income on which a family belonging to the middle classes would find it difficult to
keep up an appearance of gentility; in Florence,
on the contrary, an annual revenue amounting to
that sum confers on the proprietor and his family
the means of enjoying many of the luxuries of life.
Instead of the small, mean, ill-furnished rooms, in
some narrow street, in an unfashionable quarter of
the town, to which the recipient of sixty pounds a
year must necessarily, in London, be confined, the
Florentine, with the same amount of means, can
provide himself and family with large well-furnished
apartments in an airy square.  With an Italian
family, whose circumstances were such as I have
described, I was well acquainted during my residence in Florence. They occupied a suit of rooms
in the Piazza Santa Croce, one of the principal




MANNERS AND INCIDENTS.        193
piazzas in the town. Their drawing-room was a spacious, lofty' apartment, not only well, but elegantly,
furnished: a large mirror, in a handsome frame,
decorated the wall; on a handsome pier table underneath the glass, stood a highly ornamented French
clock; and the small marble tables, of which there
were several in the room, were covered with vases,
shells, and various articles of an ornamental kind;
whilst the requirements of comfort were fully satisfied by the arm chairs and the luxurious sofa that
met the view. Opening off this room was a smaller
one, occupied by the family in the morning hours,
and when they had no company to entertain. In
the parlor, a good-sized, well-furnished room, a very
excellent rosewood grand pianoforte was seen; whilst
another apartment well merited the name of library,
from the extensive and choice collection of ancient
and modern works which the shelves of its numerous bookcases contained. The two young ladies of
the family had been educated quite in a fashionable
style, having had music-masters, and singing-masters, and French masters, and English masters, remaining, therewithal, intensely ignorant of everything that most concerned them as rational civilized
beings to know. The out-door attire of both mother
and daughters quite corresponded with the aspect of
their home-dresses made in the last fashionable
style, bonnets with artificial flowers, silk mantillas,
and gay parasols, announced most plainly how far
13




194            LIFE IN TUSCANY.
aloof poverty stood from their door; and yet the
gilded mirror, the French timepiece, the grand
pianoforte, the numerous sitting-rooms, the accomplishments, the fashionable dresses, and the artificial
flowers, were the products wholly of sixty pounds a
year.
In England, a villa in the immediate vicinity of
any large town, is a costly luxury to procure, and
one in which no citizen could venture to indulge,
unless possessing a revenue of several hundred
pounds a year; but far different is the case in Tuscany, for in the vicinity of Florence an excellent
suit of apartments, suited to a good sized family,
may be rented at the rate of 40 scudi (81. 17s. 8d.) a
year, and in a villa near Florence, the rent of which
was no more than this sum, I passed a fortnight
with some Italian friends. The situation of the
house was extremely beautiful, commanding, as it
did, fromt the eminence on which it rose, an extensive view of undulating hills and fertile plains,
backed by lofty mountains. From the outer hall an
inner one was entered, as spacious, high, and cool,
as might be desired in a warm  summer's clime.
This hall gave access to bed-rooms suited to the
wants of a good-sized family, also to a kitchen and
two sitting-rooms; the windows of which latter
opened on a terrace extending the whole length of
the house, and affording a magnificent prospect.
But though an Italian family can manage to make




MANNERS AND INCIDENTS.         195
a show on sixty pounds a year, such could not be
accomplished by an English family resident in Florence, owing to the utter difference of opinion existing between the two nations in regard to the
requisites of life, and to what constitutes domestic
felicity.  With English people of respectability,
good, substantial fare-the juicy joint, well-cooked
vegetables, fresh butter, milk, and eggs, are articles
of prime necessity; but poor in quality and scant in
quantity is the food which suffices for the requirements of Italians belonging even to the middle
classes of society.
Strange to the English eye is it to see the household life of a Florentine merchant and his family,
and to mark how comfortless it is, according to the
English signification of the term. The proprietor
of a suit of handsome rooms in both town and
country, will make his morning meal, before repairing to his place of business, on a cup of coffee without cream  or milk, and a piece of sour leavened
bread, devoid of any accompaniment. On his dinner table will be seen, day after day, as the principal
dish, a large tureen of tasteless soup, consisting of
the thin watery decoction of a small piece of beef,
thickened up by maccaroni to its utmost capacity.
The pie or pudding is reserved for great occasions,
such as Easter, Christmas, and company days, and
seldom forms a portion of the domestic meal. For
supper, if milkless coffee and dry bread come not




196             LIFE IN TUSCANY.
again into requisition, the day's refreshments are
probably concluded with a dish of kidney-beans
swimming in oil, accompanied with a glass or two
of thin acid wine. Then, also, though the mistress
of the household appears abroad in velvet, satin,
silk, and artificial flowers, at home a nightcap very
possibly constitutes the head-dress for her morning
wear, accompanied by a dress which, if not very old
and very faded, is certain to be composed of some
material of the commonest and cheapest kind.
Cold also as the winter's wind often blows from the
snowy crests of the Apennines, and rainy and chilly
as are generally the spring months, no fire (or at
least but rarely) dispenses its genial warmth around,
gladdening the eye with a cheerful blaze. It would
be difficult, indeed, if not impossible, to find an
English family of respectability contented with such
a style of life; or one that would not willingly
forego, if necessary, every feature of external showthe grand pianoforte, the gilded mirror, the showy
timepiece, the velvet bonnet, and embroidered mantle-for the enjoyment of good food, good daily
dress, and, above all, the good, cheerful fire in the
long cold evenings of winter.
The Tuscans may well love their warm summer
skies, for under those of winter their lives for the
most part (at least to the English idea) are indeed
dreary and uncomfortable. All along the base of
the Apennines, the winter climate, for nearly per



MANNERS AND INCIDENTS.         197
haps three months in the year, is very little, if at all,
inferior in severity to the climate of England or Ireland. Rarely is Florence unvisited by snow, and
never does a season elapse without the frequent recurrence of frost; whilst overhead, dark, lowering
clouds, borne downwards from the mountains, exclude the sun from view. The north and east winds
blow piercingly, and even so late as the month of
March, furs are a grateful luxury. In a climate
such as this, it might reasonably be supposed that
ample provision would be made for the enjoyment
in the winter season of a genial temperature indoors, through the means of artificial heat; but, as
if in defiance of all the dictates of common sense,
one finds in Tuscany the dwellings of the peasantry
generally, and the dwellings of the middle classes
often, constructed in a manner suited solely to a
climate where summer perpetually prevails; the
windows of the former being devoid of glass, and
the sitting-rooms of the latter being frequently destitute of fire-places or stoves. What a cheerless
picture, under such circumstances, a family party in
Florence presents on a winter's evening, may easily
be conceived; the light from the lamp falling upon
a circle of shivering mortals, whose cheeks and lips,
with their pale bluish hue, attest the severity of the
cold. Well may the household virtues languish in
Italy, and domestic love grow cold, under the influ



198           LIFE IN TUSCANY.
ence of that frigid temperature which prevails during the winter months indoors.
Even where fire-places exist in Italy, the English
stranger soon discovers that they are generally
intended far more for show than use; the principle
that guided their construction seeming in general to
have been, that all the heat should go up the chimney, and all the smoke should enter the room. So
well are the natives acquainted with this characteristic of their fire-places, that they seem to consider
the refusal of smoke to ascend the chimney, merely
a logical consequence of fire being kindled on the
hearth below; and the complaints which strangers
utter on this subject, are considered simple and unreasonable in the extreme. " Bring up some wood,
and make a fire in our room," I said to the porter
of a house in Naples where I resided. The direction was obeyed; the wood was piled upon the
hearth, the match box was produced, and in another
moment the fire would have been kindled, had I
not, suddenly recalling my previous winter's experience in Tuscany on this subject, hastily asked,
"But does the chimney smoke?" At these words
the man turned round, and, with a look and in a
tone expressive of both wonder and amusement at
the simplicity of my question, replied, " Smoke! to
be sure it does."
To impute to Italians, however, an indifference to
and entire disuse of artificial heat in winter, would




MANNERS AND INCIDENTS.          199
be untrue; for, though neither open fire-places nor
close stoves are patronized by them, they possess, in
the great domestic institution of the scaldino, a
means of blunting, in some degree, the sharpness of
the cold. Scarcely has the power of the hot summer
sun begun to wane, than the front of every crockery
shop presents to view numbers of small brown earthenware jars, with high overarching handles. HIolding an article of this kind filled almost to the top
with charcoal embers, Italians may be often seen,
both rich and poor, going through the ordinary
avocations of life, on a cold winter's day, with much
apparent complacence. The porter at the palace
door cheers the dull tedium of his hours through
the means of his scaldino; the crippled beggar, who
entreats the passer-by, for the love of the most
blessed Virgin, to give him  a quattrino, whilst he
extends one hand to receive the expected alms,
holds in the other a scaldino; the elderly gentleman, who walks along at a slow, measured pace, has
probably a scaldino concealed beneath the folds of
his voluminous mantle; the lady, as she sits talking
to her guest, caresses lovingly the warm, smooth
brown surface of her scaldino. The scaldino takes
its place alike in drawing-room and kitchen, and is
cherished alike by mistress and by servant. One
stumbles over scaldini on the floor, knocks down
scaldini on the table; scaldini here, and there, and
everywhere, exhibit themselves, from morn till night




200             LIFE IN TUSCANY.
in winter, to the stranger's view inside the dwelling
of a Florentine family.
The scaldini is not without some value, indeed, in
a pleasurable point of view; and on my first arrival
in Italy, being of a chilly temperament, I invested
a sum equivalent to three half-pence in the purchase
of a scaldino. Short, however, was my conformity
with the national custom, for I found that indulgence
to my hands or feet, in the way of extra warmth
through the medium of the scaldino, entailed upon
me severe and constant headaches; a very natural
consequence of the noxious gas arising from red-hot
charcoal embers, which I had been unwisely imbibing; yet though the fumes from the smouldering
charcoal affected me so prejudicially, I never heard
an Italian complain of the slightest inconvenience
in this respect. Still, though no headache may
arise from the influence of a poisonous gas to persons accustomed from childhood to the use of the
scaldino, the native vigor of the constitution must
certainly be sapped in some degree by constantly
inhaling a vitiated atmosphere.
The use of the scaldino, and the absence or deficiency of fire-places and stoves in Italian houses, is
to be attributed, doubtless, to the costliness of fuel;
a good fire being a luxury beyond the power of
even the middle classes of society in Italy to indulge
in habitually, even in winter, without taxing their
generally very limited finances in an undue degree.




MANNERS AND INCIDENTS.       201
The absence of a cheap, abundant fuel, like coal in
England, causes much discomfort and suffering
amongst all the poorer classes in Italy in the winter
season; for the price of wood is such as to render
the greatest economy of consumption of this article
obligatory on the great bulk of the middle as well
as of the entire lower class of the community.
What a disagreeable economy that is to practice, no
native of England can understand, who has not
made a personal acquaintance with the winter climate of Italy bly a residence there during the cold
season of the year. So much has been written
about the warm sun, the blue sky, and the balmy
air of Italy, that an idea strongly pervades the
English mind, that warm suns, blue skies, and
balmy airs, are the almost perpetual inheritance of
that fortunate country. But such an idea experience proves should be classed amongst the popular
delusions enumerated by Sir Thomas Brown; for in
many an Italian November day the wind blows icy
cold; in many a December day the sun refuses to
shine; and in many a January and February day
the skies are covered with leaden clouds, from which
the rain pours mercilessly down. Oh, poets and
novel writers! great is the responsibility resting on
your heads, for having fostered the huge illusion
which so generally prevails with regard to the blessedness of an Italian winter clime. With the incessant sound of rain-drops in my ear, and the dull




202            LIFE IN TUSCANY.
light from a leaden sky entering the windows of my
room, my feet and fingers well nigh numb with cold,
I have often longed in Italy for the glorious warmth
of a fire of English coal; before which the beams of
even the brightest winter Italian sun fade into mere
nothingness.
Geology and morality may seem, at first sight,
subjects far apart; but it is not difficult to trace an
intimate connection between the mines of coal and
the domestic virtues of England: for instance, if
Mr. Smith, that very exemplary member of the
community, who is to be found evening after evening in his easy chair at his own fireside, chatting
with his wife and playing with his children-if this
same Mr. Smith, the pattern husband, the model
father, instead of having a good coal fire to sit beside, were to be condemned to pass the long winter
evenings inhaling carbonic acid gas from a scaldino,
in a cold, dark, fireless room, it is much to be feared
that Mrs. Smith would have often to mourn an absent spouse, and that few and far between would be
the rides that Master Tom would get upon the parental foot or knee. Keeping this consideration,
therefore, as we should do, in view, it must be allowed that when the temperature indoors ranges at
forty degrees or less, it is a difficult thing for Signor
Bacilesi to sit out the long winter evenings in his
cold, gloomy home, acting the Smithian part, when
cafes and theatres abroad afford him, at a trifling




MANNERS AND INCIDENTS.       203
cost, the combined enjoyments of society, amusement, warmth and light. Who, then, duly reflecting on this subject, can fail to recognize the important part which the geological conformation of
Cumberland and Lancashire plays in the development of the domestic virtues in England?
Throughout Tuscany, and, indeed, I may say,
throughout Italy, England and the English are very
much respected by the great mass of the population.
The power of England presents itself to the popular
mind in Tuscany as a power of the most unlimited
magnitude. The release of PRosa Madiai and her
husband from prison resulted entirely, I was told,
from the interposition of England in their favor,
through the means of a threat uttered by the English Government on the subject. My informant
assured me, gravely, that the English minister wrote
to the Grand Duke, "If in six weeks' time Rosa
and her husband are not free, I will send an army
to release them, and knock down Florence about
your ears!" Of course, such a terrific menace could
not fail in producing an immediate effect.
According to the same accurate and trustworthy
authority, an Englishman or Englishwoman never
breaks a promise, and never defrauds. During my
stay in Tuscany, I found the most unlimited confidence placed in my honesty, by persons almost
strangers to me, with whom I had money transactions of any kind. In a case that came under my




204            LIFE IN TUSCANY.
own knowledge, of an English lady who had defrauded a poor Florentine tradeswoman of a sum
which to the latter was one of a serious amount, I
had an opportunity of becoming acquainted with
the deep-seated reliance on English honesty that
prevailed. "I ow could you act so very foolishly,"
I said, " as to go on from month to month, and even
from year to year, not only giving credit, but lending money, when it was asked?" "Yes, I feel now
that I acted foolishly," was the reply; " but the lady
being English, I never doubted for a moment she
would repay me every farthing that she owed, according to her word." Precisely to the same purport was the remark made to me by the proprietor
of one of the principal hotels in Florence, to whom
I expressed my surprise that he should have permitted a swindler, a soi-distant Englishman, to
defraud him out of the expenses of board and lodging for a lengthened time. "The gentleman always
said he would pay me when he got a remittance
from his London banker," was the reply; "and I,
thinking him to be an Englishman, for he bore the
name of one, believed implicitly what he said."
"Still," I rejoined, "when you found out through
the telegraph that he had no money at the bank, as
he declared, I wonder you continued to give credit
to his promises of eventual payment." "X Well,"
was the reply, " if I had not believed him to be an
Englishman, I would have turned him out of doors




MANNERS AND INCIDENTS.        205
at once; but as I never knew an English gentleman
to cheat or to break his word, I relied confidently
on having my dues at last."
In regard to Italian female servants, I invariably
found that the great desire of their hearts was to
get into the service of an English lady or an English family, not so much from the increase of wages
they might obtain beyond the Italian standard, as
from the kinder treatment they expected to receive,
and the easier life they hoped to lead, than that
which fell to their lot in an Italian family. "Pray,
take me as your maid," was an entreaty that I constantly heard, together with the assurance that I
might fix the wages at any sum I chose. English
ladies, indeed, are looked up to and spoken of,
amongst Italians of the lower classes, in a manner
that often amused me considerably; by the women,
especially, whose depressed' social condition leads
almost universally to the most extreme cowardliness
of mind.
Constantly, when performing the most simple actions in the world, I have found my achievements
regarded as belonging to the heroic class; for instance, when bathing, I advanced into the sea until
the water reached up to my waist -when during
a thunder storm, I stood near the window to watch
the lightning flashes-when I crossed a narrow street
between, perhaps, two very slowly moving lines of
carriages-I was looked upon as having done some



206            LIFE LN TUSCANY.
thing truly wonderful. Many were the tales I heard
of English ladies' deeds of daring; how this one
had undertaken a journey by herself-how that one
had not scrupled to ride or walk for several miles
alone-and how another, who had lost her way one
evening in a chestnut wood, instead of going well
nigh crazy with fright, (as an Italian girl under similar circumstances would be certain to do,) treated
the affair as a good joke, by bursting out into a
merry laugh on being wakened up the ensuing morning by some members of her family, who, going in
search, had found her sleeping quietly beneath a
tree. The extreme pusillanimity of Italian women
gives, in their opinion, quite a marvelous character
to the simplest deeds; and this failing-unchecked
in childhood-grows sometimes to an excess that
must often detract much from the happiness of their
lives.
" Ho paura," (I am afraid,) is the commonest expression one hears in Italy from feminine lips. I
was acquainted with a young girl of seventeen, who
stayed in bed three days to recover from the effects
of some silly hobgoblin fears; and a middle-aged
servant of mine remained in a dead swoon for upwards of an hour, in consequence of seeing a large
eel unexpectedly: it is, indeed, rare to find amongst
rich or poor, an Italian woman who will not scream,
or jump, or start, on the slightest provocation imaginable.




MANNERS AND INCIDENTS.         207
Although the English are generally liked and respected throughout Tuscany, they are very far from
being favorites with the upper classes of that land.
Whilst to the Tuscan peasant, to the tradesman, or
to the merchant, the term Inylese stands as the impersonification of honor, probity, courage, wealth,
and generosity, to the Tuscan gentleman or noble
that same word is the synonym for every phase of
disagreeableness: a result attributable in a great
degree to the pride and shyness which characterize,
in general, English manners; for to the polished
Italian, brought up to respect the established forms
of politeness beyond most other things, and gifted
with a volubility of speech that knows no check,
English silence and reserve very naturally wear the
aspect of studied rudeness or want of courtesy.
To the estrangement resulting from this source is
added that which proceeds from uncongeniality of
tastes and characters. Excluded from the real business of life, without public duties of any kind to
engage his mind, and with no profitable avocations
to occupy his time, the Tuscan nobleman, or gentleman of independent fortune, seeks refuge from the
approaches of ennui by a headlong plunge into the
whirling gulf of pleasure and dissipation. A career
of such a kind, whose only aim is self-indulgence,
whilst it destroys the sense of right, infallibly imparts a tone of frivolity to the character. The English nobleman or gentleman, brought up under




208            LIFE IN TUSCANY.
influences widely different, with many opportunities of useful occupation, and a consciousness of
public duties as landholder or magistrate, and with
the means of honorably satisfying his love of excitement in the wide field of political life that is thrown
open to his ambition, acquires a certain seriousness
of thought and solidity of character, which but ill
harmonize with the tone of Italian society; where
the advent of a new prima donna holds the same
place in interest as the advent of a new Prime Minister does in England, and where the graces of a
pirouette and the merits of a roulade are discussed
with the same amount of earnestness and animation
that might be employed in English society in criticising the acts and words of English public characters and statesmen.
Another cause may also be discovered for that
dislike which is entertained by the upper classes of
Tuscany towards the English generally. With an
innate fondness for display, a national taste that
manifests itself throughout every rank of society in
Italy, the Tuscan nobleman or gentleman, having
a fortune of moderate amount or a scanty revenue,
finds himself eclipsed in his own land, in external
pomp and show, by that wealthy Anglo-Saxon race
whom a love of change, of art, of sunshine, or other
motives have impelled towards the shores of Italy.
The princepe or marchese, whose ancestors played a
distinguished part in Floretine history, and whose




MANNERS AND INCIDENTS.         209
fortress-palaces adorn the Tuscan capital, must be
galled and mortified by the consideration that, in
equipages, in style of living, in splendor of entertainments, they cannot compete with Mr. Brown or
Mr. Smith, whose gentility dates not, perhaps, beyond the quarter or half-quarter of a century. But
still more powerful than any of the causes of estrangement enumerated is that which has its growth
in the different codes of morals that bear sway respectively in Italian and English society. "The
English talk scandal about us," say the Italians:
and, probably, this charge is not without foundation; for no pure-minded Englishwoman, or rightthinking Englishman, can frequent Italian society
without finding much to condemn.
To one custom, prevalent not only in Tuscany but
throughout Italy, no length of residence abroad
can ever reconcile the English stranger. In the
British isles the practice of bargaining is looked
upon as a very plebeian transaction, and in the lowest order of shops alone, and amongst the lower
classes of the people chiefly, is the practice of bargaining general. With us, no shopkeeper, who
aimed at securing the customl of respectable persons,
would offer to abate one farthing in the prices first
demanded for his goods; and even the most thrifty
lady would scarcely venture to compromise her gentility so far as to attempt to higgle over the purchase of a yard of calico or a pound of tea. Far
14




210             LIFE IN TUSCANY.
different in this respect is the custom in Italy; for
the Italian shopkeeper, whether he lives in a fashionable street or in a back lane, whether he vends
satins or maccaroni, almost invariably demands for
his commodities a higher price than he will take,
or indeed calculates to receive; since his customers,
whether rich or poor, on their part quite as universally stipulate for an abatement in the cost of the
article they wish to buy. The difficulty to English
strangers of shopping, under such circumstances,
may easily be conceived; unfamiliar with the art of
bargaining as they usually are, as well as being ignorant of the just value of the article they may
desire to purchase. Of course, however, for those
fortunate individuals on whom economical considerations need exercise no restraint, shopping in Italy
is an occupation that involves as little trouble as
does shopping in England; but to those natives of
the British isles who do not find it convenient to
pay a third, or perhaps one-half, more than the fair
value of every article, Italian shopping is a grievance, and a burdensome affliction. Disagreeable to
me, however, as was always the avocation, I often
derived considerable amusement in listening to such
negotiations, and witnessing the manner in which
they were carried on between the vendor and the
purchaser.
A lady asks the price of a ribbon she admires -
"Three paoli the braccio," is the reply.




MANNERS AND INCIDENTS.          211
"Three paoli! " rejoins the lady in a contemptuous
tone, giving the ribbon a slight toss aside; "how
dear! how enormously dear!"
"Dear! no, not at all," returns the shopkeeper,
blandly; "rather it is cheap, remarkably cheap,
if you consider the color and quality of the goods."
The lady takes up the ribbon again, looks at it,
and after a moment's consideration says she will
give two paoli the braccio for it.
The man shakes his head, with something of an
indignant air. Two paoli the braccio for such a
ribbon! quite impossible to give it for such a price
as that; but to accommodate the signora as far as
practicable, he will say twenty crazie* the braccio
for it.
" Still much too dear," is the rejoinder; " the ribbon is not really worth more than twelve crazie;
but as the color suits me, I will give seventeen crazie
a braccio for it."
"I am very sorry, but I cannot sell it at that
price."
A short silence follows; the lady looks at the ribbon with an approving eye, the shopman waits for
some new proposal; but none being forthcoming,
he suggests, at length, an accommodation of the
difference; for eighteen crazie the braccio the ribbon shall be hers.
* There are eight crazie in a paoli.




212              LIFE IN TUSCANY.
The proposition being acceded to, the negotiation comes happily to an end.
Not always, however, does the transaction terminate so speedily. On two or three successive days
I have known negotiations renewed, before a satisfactory settlement of the price could be attained.
On one of these occasions, a straw bonnet, of the
value of about seven shillings in English money, was
the article under discussion. On the third day, the
negotiations had so far advanced to a favorable
termination, that a difference of about two pence
three farthings alone prevented the sale from taking
place; and on the fourth day, I have no doubt the
difference was finally adjusted, and the sale effected
by the sacrifice of a few farthings on either side.
The process of shopping, under the Italian system,
would be much simplified to the stranger, if any
certain rule could be given as to the proportion that
the real value of an article bears to its nominal one.
But though, unhappily, Italian shopkeepers all agree
to ask far more for their goods than they are worth,
they by no means show the same accord in adopting
one uniform rate of overcharge. Each shop has its
different sliding scale: as the stranger will find from
painful experience; whilst in one, an article may be
procured for half the price first asked, in another
an abatement of only a third or a fourth part of the
original price will be made. Amidst the intricacies
and perplexities of such a system, the stranger stands




MANNERS AND INCIDENTS.        213
but little chance of obtaining any article at a price
at all approximating to the one it ought in equity
to bear.
"Quanto vuol darmi?" (" I{ow much will you give
me? ") is a phrase much in use amongst tradesmen,
on an objection being made to the price demanded
for their wares; and when I have left a shop, rather
than conduct negotiations for sale on the established
higgling principle, my proceeding was looked upon,
I could easily see, as something quite eccentric and
absurd: so firmly is it established in the Italian
mind that every one who wants to buy, and every
one who desires to sell, should each endeavor strenuously, on their respective parts, the one to make
the most, the other to pay the least he can, whether
the matter involve the value of a few pence or many
pounds.
Yet, universally as the Hebrew principle of trade
prevails throughout Italy, and biassed as minds become in favor of customs sanctioned by prescription,
I have met with Italian tradesmen sufficiently rational and enlightened to condemn the principle of
overcharging as dishonest and injurious.
"But what can I do? " said a Florentine mercer
to me one day, in reference to some observations of
mine; " though I admire the English system of
dealing as being an essentially good and honest one,
the practice of it on my part would certainly banish
from my shop every Italian customer I have; for no




214             LIFE IN TUSCANY.
Italian lady would purchase from me the most trifling article, unless I made some abatement in the
price declared; however reasonable and fair that
price might be. Under such circumstances, therefore, not only to make any profit, but even to save
myself from actual loss, I must ask in the first instance a high price for my goods, in order to allow
for the abatement that every customer will inevitably demand. Fixed prices are best, I freely admit, and I wish heartily that they were the established rule in this land; but for a solitary individual
like myself to oppose a universal custom, and to set
up a system of English dealing here, would soon
result in ruin and bankruptcy."
To the reasonableness of such observations I could
not but assent; recalling the keenness with which
the process of bargaining on the part of intending
purchasers had often, under my own eye, been carried on. Not only in this, but in many other respects, Italy affords a striking example of the way
in which evils act and re-act upon each other, so as
almost hopelessly to perpetuate their rule.
The universality of beggary in Italy detracts much
from the pleasure of a stranger's residence in that
land; and though the Neapolitan dominions, perhaps, possess an unhappy pre-eminence in that particular, the curse of mendicancy prevails to a most
lamentable extent in Tuscany. From the rich plains
through which the Arno winds, there issue a ragged,




MANNERS AND INCIDENTS.           215
squalid tribe, who sustain their miserable lives on
charity. In Pisa, the beggars would almost seem to
constitute the most numerous class of the population; and, in the other towns of Tuscany, mendicancy exhibits itself on a scale of scarcely less magnitude. Under the bright blue summer sky, and in
a land where plenty apparently reigns, nowhere
could I escape from sights and sounds of misery;
everywhere was heard the monotonous cry, lisped
by the young, mumbled by the old, and chorused
forth by ragged wretches of both sexes and of every
age —"Datemi qualche cosa! ho fame, h/o tanto fame!
Datemi una piccola moneta, per l'amore della sanctissima Veryine!" *
Extensively, however, as poverty does really prevail in Tuscany, and numerous as are the fit objects
of charity that one sees, the tribe of beggars is often
largely swelled by additions from a class of individuals who are mendicants more from  choice than
necessity; having other means of sustaining life
than those derived from alms. This class of unprofessional beggars abounds especially in country districts; and so deficient, for the most part, are the
lower orders of the peasantry in a consciousness of
anything inherently degrading in the mendicant's
trade, that petitions for aid will come from persons
evincing in their looks and dress an air of respecta* "Give me something! I am hungry; I am so very hungry! Give
me a trifle, for the love of the Blessed Virgin! 




216             LIFE IN TUSCANY.
bility. Almost before the power of speech is attained, the bright-eyed, round-cheeked child of the
contadino will stretch out its little hand to the passing stranger for some trifling coin; and the peasant
woman whose husband cultivates a small plot of
land, will more than hint how extremely acceptable
would be the donation of a cast-off petticoat or
gown. Very probably, not a little of the favor with
which the beggar's trade is regarded in Tuscany
originates in the circumstance, that mendicancy and
religion are exhibited constantly to the people's
view in intimate union. The brown-robed friar,
with wallet on his back, who begs from door to
door-here, for a piece of bread, there, for a contribution of chestnuts or of meal; the Brother of Mercy, who goes his rounds with begging-box in hand;
the friar, who takes his stand in the public streets,
to solicit alms for the relief of suffering souls in purgatory: acting as they all do under the sanction of
the Church, not unnaturally tend to invest with a
kind of dignity the mendicant's trade in the public
estimation. Be this, however, the cause or not, one
thing is certain, that amongst the lower classes of
Tuscany no feeling of pride, independence and selfrespect will restrain the utterance of petitions for
aid, even on the part of many whose circumstances
are such as to place them  far above the ordinary
mendicant class.
By universal assent, Tuscany, with one single ex



MANNERS AND INCIDENTS.         217
ception, ranks high above all the other Italian States
in regard to elegance of expression and purity of
pronunciatian of the Italian tongue. Rome alone,
the exception referred to, can contest the palm of
superiority with Tuscany in this particular; and
though, according to the well-known saying "la
lingua lToscana in bocca Romrana," be the best, the
inhabitants of Tuscany, and more especially the citizens of Sienna, pique themselves on the possession
of the exclusive power of speaking the Italian language with perfect purity. On such a point, a
foreigner can necessarily be no judge, for many a
minute shade of difference in the pronunciation of
an unfamiliar word escapes the untutored ear; but
one thing is certain, that the merest novice in the
Italian language will soon discover that, as a general rule, the Florentines, throughout the middle and
lower classes of the population, take certain liberties
with their language that neither good taste nor dictionary authority can in the least degree justify.
For instance, they very frequently convert the letter "c," when it begins a word, into an "h" in
sound, so as to make hasa out of casa (house), havallo
out of cavallo (horse), and so on through a great
number of words of the same kind. With this particular fault, which is one pretty much confined to
Florence and its immediate vicinity, the Tuscan
pronunciation of Italian was pleasing to my ear
above that of any other part of Italy, the Roman




218             LIFE IN TUSCANY.
not excepted. It is a truly pleasant thing to hear
Italian spoken in a voice possessing the charms of
softness and sweetness - qualities, however, which,
strange to say in a land of vocalists, are seldom
found in the speaking voices of Italian men, and
still far more rarely in those of Italian women. I
have often been pained to an indescribable degree,
in Italian society, by the shrill, sharp voices of the
ladies whom I heard around me. One young lady
in particular, with whom circumstances brought me
unfortunately into frequent contact, used, by every
word she uttered, to cause me the same suffering as
I have endured from the grinding of a saw, the
scratch of a slate pencil, or the scream of a steam
whistle; and I have often felt tempted to beg that
she would chant or operatize her sentences; for,
curious to say, like many other Italian ladies I knew
who possessed speaking voices of a similar description, she sang with taste, power and sweetness.
In the British Isles, music is a passion with the
few, an amusement, or object of mere liking, to the
many; but in Italy, music seems to speak to the
heart and soul of every inhabitant of that country.
In Florence, rich and poor are alike adorers of the
opera. The London artizan, intent on pleasure,
hurries off to a third-rate theatre, to luxuriate in
the comicalities of some broad farce, or to seek excitement in the exhibition of melodramatic horrors:
blue lights, green lights, and red lights, are his de



MANNERS AND INCIDENTS.         219
light; he loves to see fairies flying in the air; dragons with fiery tails, and magicians with magnificent
turbans and splendid beards. Beyond a popular
song or two, the tune of which the itinerant barrel
organ has made familiar to his ear, he knows little
of music; his own attainments in that art being
probably limited to humming or whistling "God
save the Queen," or some negro melody.
The Florentine artizan, though not inferior in
natural intelligence, yet certainly inferior in point
of education, seeks for enjoyment in pleasures of a
more elevated kind. Passing by with indifference
the gigantic placards which announce the performance of some wonderful horse, or the hundredth
representation, amidst universal applause, of some
laughter-exciting play, he hies with his small savings to the opera-house, to listen to the prima donna's harmonious strains. Not a note escapes his ear;
he listens with every faculty; prepared to applaud
or to condemn each vocalist, where praise or blame
is due. He can trace the silver thread of harmony
through passages where the clue seems lost to a less
gifted and cultivated ear, and each note he hears
makes a distinct impression on his memory. He
feels no fatigue, he knows no tedium, though he
listens to the same opera, sung by the same vocalists,
for the twentieth time; and the strains thus heard
he carries back in mind with him to cheer the weariness of his labor hours. From the carpenter's shop




220             LIFE IN TUSCANY.
I have heard the finest airs of the "Sonnambula"
rise up melodiously in the air; the work-girl, with
a power and sweetness of voice which I could not
but envy, has sung me the best pieces from the
" Traviata " in a truly admirable style; and I knew
a maid-servant who could go unerringly through at
least twenty operas, from beginning to end. "Music! how I adore music!" is the universal cry in
Italy, amongst old and young, rich and poor. According to the principle of the Scandinavian mythology, which made the happiness of heaven for
the righteous consist in an endless repetition of the
pleasures they had most enjoyed on earth - even
as the followers of Odin were to drink mead out
of the over-flowing goblets, and to chop off each
other's heads, and limbs, and arms to the end of
time —so a paradise constructed for Italians on the
same plan would necessitate an inexhaustible supply
of first-rate operas and artistes with vocal powers
equally divine.
At Easter time, either a little before or after that
festival, the streets of Florence exhibit a sight which
cannot fail in some degree to excite the stranger's
curiosity and surprise. Dressed in robes of white,
composed of some light material, such as muslin or
lace, over-skirts of satin or silk, with large white
veils enveloping their heads, young girls may be
seen proceeding along the public streets, either singly
or in groups, accompanied by a lady of matronly




MANNERS AND INCIDENTS.         221
aspect.  The attire, so suggestive of matrimonial
proceedings, instantly led me to the conclusion that
the young girls whom I saw were either going to,
or returning from, the wedding of a friend or relation; but, on inquiry, I found that the dress which
had excited my interest and curiosity was significant,
not of matrimony, but of religion; it being adopted
by such young girls as, for the first time in their
lives, were admitted to receive the Communion.
English philanthropy takes under its especial protection the blind, the deaf, the dumb, the maimed,
and the diseased in mind and body; for these subsrciptions are raised, donations given, and legacies
bequeathed by charitable persons. But Italian, and
particularly Tuscan philanthropy, would seem, for
the most part, to take a different direction; for,
judging from the amount of funds set apart in Florence for various charitable purposes, the want of
sight, of speech, the failure of health, the loss of
limbs, of hearing, and of reason, are each accounted
a calamity of less weight than that which afflicts
the maiden destined to see her youth go by, and
grey hairs arrive, unprovided with a husband. English benevolence contemplates with indifference the
woes of spinsterism, but Italian benevolence rushes
to its aid with a zeal truly commendable: enhancing
the effect of feminine graces, and increasing their
power to subdue the manly heart, by the substantial
charms of money. In Tuscany, as well as through



222              LIFE IN TUSCANY.
out all Italy, the bestowal of marriage portions has
ever been one of the most favorite charities; and in
Florence alone the sums thus distributed annually
amount to between three and four thousand pounds.
The Society of St. John the Baptist, the patron saint
of Florence, was founded chiefly for the purpose of
endowing girls in humble circumstances with marriage portions; and to the same purpose is annually
applied a certain portion of the funds of the brotherhood of the Misericordia. Another charitable
society takes upon itself to provide every fatherless
Florentine girl with a matrimonial dowry of fifty
scudi (about eleven pounds English money). To
entitle themselves, however, to receive such donations, girls must pay great attention to their religious duties: attend mass frequently, take the Communion at proper times, go to confession regularly,
and, above all things, present themselves at the catechetical examination, called dottrina, held by the
priests in the several parish churches after morning
service on Sunday. The girl who absents herself
from the dottrina without a sufficient cause to justify
her absence, has a mark attached to her name on
every occasion of such truancy; which marks accumulating to the number of three or more, invalidate
her claim to the reception of the next installment of
the marriage portion, which otherwise would be hers.
According to the age of the recipient, within a certain limit, the portion varies; for from eighteen




MANNERS AND INCIDENTS.          223
years of age up to thirty-five, the young maiden's
dower (which she is alone, however, entitled to receive
on her marriage day,) undergoes generally a triennial increase; but the limit of five and thirty being
reached without a husband being obtained, the hapless maid is doomed to mourn over the destruction
of all her matrimonial hopes, from her exclusion
henceforth from the benefits of the charitable endowment through which she trusted to win her way
to marriage. Poor, hapless maid of thirty-five, if
such there be in Florence! Who cannot sympathize
with her sorrows, as she sees that dreaded day and
hour approach when she loses every right to claim
the seventeen years' accumulating heap of silver
scudi, the due reward of years of sedulous attendance at mass, confession, and the dottrina!
Sad, however, as the old maid's fate is deemed in
Italian popular estimation, it may well be questioned
whether the Tuscan spinster's lot, in the lower classes
of life at least, is not in reality frequently a far happier one than that of many by whom the marriage
portion has been rightfully claimed. If not actually
maltreated-as from several cases that came under
my own observation I have cause to know she not
unfrequently is — the Tuscan wife, in the lower
classes of society, occupies the position of a mere
servant in the husband's view; and on a festa, when
her work is done, while her husband goes forth to
enjoy himself, she must stay at home.




224            LIFE IN TUSCANY.
" It would be a fine sight, indeed, for my husband
to take me off with him on a pleasure walk or
jaunt," said an extremely respectable woman to me
one day. "What a joke the neighbors would have
about it! how they would shout out, when they saw
us going arm-in-arm, 16vingly together, or driving
together side by side, that sugar was cheap, honey
was plenty, and a hundred such like impertinences!
No, no! we Italian wives must just stay at home,
cook, dust, and clean; and if we would lead peaceable lives, bear a frown or an angry word with quietness and patience."
In addition to remarks of such a nature, an expression that became quite familiar to my ears during my residence in Tuscany, was little indicative of
feminine conjugal felicity amongst the lower orders
of society in that country. "Would to heaven I
had never married! " or, " If I had been wise, I had
never married," was a plaint that, time after time,
I have heard repeated b)y wives, in tones of the most
unquestionable sincerity.
Twenty-three o'clock is the favorite hour with
the Italians at every time of the year, but more particularly the summer season; this twenty-three
o'clock, which the hour before sunset is called, being
used by them for purposes of recreation and amusement. At twenty-three o'clock the merchant leaves
his counting-house, the clerk his desk, the student
his books, the officer his barracks and the idle gen



MANNERS AND INCIDENTS.         225
tleman his lounging-chair, and go forth with one
accord to saunter along some fashionable promenade,
there to smoke, to chat, and interchange news and
salutations with passing friends. With ladies, this
hour is also a favorite one; for whilst the married
ladies, equipping themselves in their most captivating array, also go forth to swell the sauntering
throng, the unmarried, to whom a similar privilege
is denied, station themselves at the front windows
of their respective residences, deriving no small enjoyment from the occupation of seeing and the consciousness of being seen.
Considering window-gazing from an English point
of view, it would seem a sufficiently dull and uninteresting feminine recreation; but viewed through
an Italian medium, it becomes a highly exciting
feminine employment. No young lady who takes
her station at a front window on an afternoon but
may readily entertain the idea of captivating by her
charms the heart of some passing stranger; innumerable instances being known to her of a husband
having been obtained by a glance shot down from
the altitude even of a second story. It was highly
amusing to hear from the lips of one of these romantically-wooed maidens the history of the courtship,
from the moment when she first observed that she
was the object of the stranger's attention, on through
many successive afternoons, blessed by the interchange of mutual admiring glances, until the arrival
15




226            LIFE IN TUSCANY.
of that happy hour when the enamored youth
made known his name and his position, and in explicit terms demanded her hand in marriage. So
recognized is window-gazing in Italy as a favorite
feminine occupation, that few windows of houses of
any pretension to gentility, in the principal streets
of Italian towns, have their inner lower ledges unprovided with cushions, for the especial use and
benefit of the leaner's elbow.
The strictness of Italian rules of decorum, even
with reference to unmarried girls in the humblest
classes of society, was once illustrated to me in a
very forcible and somewhat amusing manner. In
the interior of a public conveyance, in which I was
traveling to a small provincial Italian town, I had
for vis-a-vis a girl of nineteen, belonging to the peasant class; a fact evidenced at once by the peculiar
costume she wore. Besides the latter and myself, a
lady friend of mine, and a priest, occupied the interior of the conveyance. The girl, on my entering
into conversation with her, took particular care to
inform me that she had been waiting for several
days for a good opportunity, like that which had
at last presented itself, of returning home in safe
company. Arrived at the town in which her family
lived, the driver of the conveyance asked her to
alight; as the ascent to the lane where her parents
resided was very steep, and she could walk with
ease the distance in three minutes. At this request




MANNERS AND INCIDENTS.          227
the girl exhibited the utmost amount of indignation,
and declared it was one to which it was quite impossible for her to accede, without being guilty of the
greatest impropriety. Walk alone to her own house!
that would be a fine thing, indeed, for her to do:
what would her mother, what would the neighbors
say, to see her return in this discreditable way?
How could he ask any respectable girl to commit
such an impropriety? Evidently considering that
such objections were very reasonable, the driver gave
up the point, and the girl was deposited safely at the
parental door.
The towns of San Miniata, Colle, Volterra, and
Fiesole, in Tuscany, all enjoy prerogatives of a peculiar kind. In each one of these small towns is what
is called a Libro d'oro (golden book), in the pages
of which it is only necessary to have the name inscribed, to change the proprietor of that designation
from a plebeian, perhaps of the lowest rank, into a
member of the nobility. Of course, as may well be
supposed, this transformation is not effected on purely disinterested lprinciples of philanthropy; but it
must be admitted, considering that, in addition to a
title, an inscription in the pages of the Libro d'oro
confers upon the proprietor of the name inscribed
the right also to appear at court, that the terms upon
which the valuable privilege is granted are very moderate. For about thirty pounds the title of chevalier, the lowest order of nobility, may be obtained.




228             LIFE IN TUSCANY.
For double that sum the dignity of baron can be
reached. A count or marquis's degree costs something more; but an aspirant to nobility need not
despair of arriving even at the highest of these
grades, at the expense of a hundred pounds.
The inhabitants of Fiesole turned the privilege
their city enjoyed to a highly praiseworthy use.
Perched on the top of a steep hill, along the precipitous sides of which no road practicable for carriages had been made, they found themselves, though
only about five miles distant from Florence, in a
great degree insulated from the world. A remedy
for this state of things at last entered the head of an
ingenious citizen. Distinguished as was the ancient
Etruscan city in point of historical dignity, still it
had become, through the agencies of time, a poverty-stricken place. From a population, the majority
of which found it a difficult task to earn their daily
bread, the funds essential for the construction of
even a mile and a half of road could not possibly
be obtained. But if the inhabitants of Fiesole had
themselves no money to expend in public works,
they had, by a liberal exercise of the privileges conferred on them by their Golden Book, the means of
raising the necessary supplies for the object in view.
A suggestion to this effect being made and approved
of, the scheme proposed was carried out with much
energy and activity. "Titles to sell! who will buy?
who will buy? " was their cry, and in answer to that




MANNERS AND INCIDENTS.         229
cry came numerous demands for patents of nobility.
Marquises, counts, and barons were created by the
soore; and not a few Englishmen became ennobled
through the medium of a well-filled purse. Money
flowed copiously into the exchequer of the impoverished city, and sufficient was raised to make the
road by which the stranger now ascends the hill of
Fiesole to visit the ruins of this old Etruscan city.
The term frutta (fruit) is much more comprehensive in the Italian than its corresponding term in the
English language, for under the word frutta are comprised young peas and beans; which, like the class
of products with which they range, are often eaten
uncooked. In an Italian house where I was staying, my invariable refusal to partake of these socalled frutta exciting some surprise, I explained that
I had not been habituated to eat them raw; whereupon, in deference to my prejudices, the peas were
subjected to a culinary process the succeeding day;
but I found to my distress that the flavor of the
dish was destroyed, in the opinion of most of the
members of the family, since it was scarcely touched
by any one but me.
To spill oil, and to break a looking-glass, are both
considered in. Italy to be evil auguries, and death is
inevitably foreboded by the hooting of an owl near a
sick man's wifidow. The hair is considered to be
acted upon by lunar influence; for, according to the
popular creed, no one who values an abundance of




230            LIFE IN TUSCANY.
hair should submit his or her head to the hair-cutter's operations whilst the moon is on the wane.
A few years ago an occurrence took place in Tuscany, which caused the most unbounded merriment
to the lively Florentines. A young student at the
University of Pisa fell under the suspicion of being
heretically inclined, and whilst his education was
still uncompleted, he sickened, and, after a short illness, died. Having on his death-bed refused the
offices of the priests, and thus tacitly declared his
disbelief in the tenets of the Church to which he nominally belonged, a reverend teacher in the seminary
considered that circumstances justified recurrence to
a stratagem, which, more than any words, might
impress upon the minds of the deceased's companions the dreadful consequences that the rejection of
the Catholic faith involved. A rumor emanating
from this source, to the effect that the devil would
surely come to claim the dead student's soul, excited
a vague feeling of fear in the mind of a young man
who had determined, from affection to the deceased,
to keep watch over the dead body of his friend during the night preceding its burial. Actuated by
this sensation of dread, and having a presentiment
of the appearance of some evil spirit during his lonely watch, the young man carefully loaded a brace
of pistols, armed with which he proceeded to his
post. Alone with the corpse-that cast-off garment
of humanity, whose pallid, unchanging features and




MANNERS AND INCIDENTS.         231
cold impassability never fail to evoke in the gazer's
heart a feeling of awe-and with vague apprehensions of being brought into contact with beings from
another world, one may fancy the thrill of horror
that ran through his veins, when at midnight he
heard a rattle as of chains, and saw a hideous figure
approach, with horns sprouting from his head, and
a long tail sweeping the ground.
But, however appalled the young man might have
been at the apparition, his courage and presence of
mind did not desert him; for, seizing a pistol, he
fired, and with so true an aim that the spectre fell,
and, with a very earthly shriek of suffering, lay
prostrate on the floor. "The devil is dead! the
devil is dead!" shouted the young man triumphantly; and forthwith rushed off to proclaim to his companions that mankind had been freed from their
great enemy by his hand. "The devil is dead! the
devil is dead! " resounded through the walls of the
aniversity. But, unfortunately for humanity, it was
soon discovered that the supposed devil was a very
undeniable sample of the human species, who had
been dressed up in character for the occasion to perform the devil's part. " All Florence rung with this
incident," said the Italian lady who told me this
tale. "' The devil is dead! the devil is dead!' was
in every one's lips, and the joke was not let drop
for a considerable time."
At a period when the whole monetary system of




232              LIFE IN TUSCANY.
Europe was in a most unsettled state, and when
monarchs -either to defraud their creditors, or to
force their debtors to pay more than they had received, or the tax-payers more than was due - continually varied the title and weight of the coins of
their respective kingdoms, the republic of Florence
was honorably distinguished by possessing a golden
florin, whose weight and value remained unaltered
as long as the republic itself endured. Unhappily
for the traveler, this florin exists no longer;.for
cumbrous, heavy and inconvenient to a degree are
the large silver coins denominated scudi, which
bearers of letters of credit and circular notes receive
in exchange from their Tuscan or Florentine bankers. A gold coin, denominated a zecehino, is indeed
declared to form a portion of the monetary system
of Tuscany at this present day; but its existence
must be a mere matter of faith with most strangers,
as it was with me; for it certainly does not enter
into the ordinary transactions of purchase and sale,
and during the whole period I was in Tuscany, I
never saw this coin. The Grand Duke and Grand
Ducal family alone, indeed, I was informed, enjoy
the privilege of filling their purses with gold: and
what a privilege this is, no one can fully appreciate,
who has not retired from the counting-house of a
Tuscan banker, groaning beneath the weight of
silver scudi.
The reign of cheapness is attested in Tuscany by




MANNERS AND INCIDENTS.          233
the issue of coins representing a value exceedingly
small. For instance, the paolo —worth a little more
than five-pence, English money-is divided into
eight crazie; and as every crazia undergoes a subdivision into five quattrini, a Tuscan quattrino represents a value considerably below that of the smallest
coin of England. In former times, the quattrino was
divisible again into four denari; but the denaro,
though it still holds its place in the tables of Tuscan
currency, has only now a nominal existence. Another small coin, called a soldo, containing three
quattrini, is current in many parts of Tuscany, and
often causes the stranger infinite perplexity and bewilderment in small shopping transactions; for, as
a soldo contains three quattrini, and a crazia five, and
as payment for an article is often necessarily made
in a coin differing from that one in which the price
was asked, to ascertain the due amount of crazie
requisite to discharge a debt contracted in soldi, or
vice versa, as the case may be, involves a somewhat
elaborate arithmetical calculation. " I hope to learn
your language, but I do not expect I shall ever understand your money," said an English lady to a
shop-keeper of Pisa: and I have known several
persons who, even after a residence of many months
in Tuscany, have never attained to a thorough
mastery over the crazie, soldi and quattrini difficulty.
In no part of Italy is the foreigner more worried
with police regulations than in Tuscany. From the




234              LIFE IN TUSCANY.
moment natives of other States enter the Grand
Duchy, they are under the constant surveillance of
officials, as well as under the disagreeable necessity
of contributing to the Grand Ducal revenues.* This
proceeding of the Tuscan Government towards
foreigners is not only ungenerous, but ungrateful;
considering the vast benefit which Florence derives
from the large sums of money annually expended
there by tourists and resident visitors. The permission to remain even for two or three days in the
Tuscan capital involves an expenditure of eight paoli,
and should the stay be prolonged beyond that period,
a license-called a carta di soggiorno-must be taken
out, at a cost of twelve paoli. Even with this carta
di soggiorno, the strangers who may wish to reside
for some time in Tuscany are far from being at the
end of their pecuniary contributions to the police
authorities; for in general, at the end of every two
months, a new carta di soggiorno must be procured,
involving a fresh expenditure. Nor is this even the
whole grievance of the matter; for, although a carta
di soggiorno, taken out in any town in Tuscany, gives
to the holder the right of a two months' unmolested
residence in the place where it was granted, the virtue of this license is limited in a great degree to the
immediate locality of its issue; for though, armed
with this document, the stranger may travel through
* This regulation applies to Italians as well as to natives of France
and England, or other countries.




MANNERS AND INCIDENTS.         235
Tuscany unmolested by fresh official transactions,
yet, if a stay be made in any one place for a longer
period than ten days, the purse must again be opened to pay for another carta di soggiorno. Sometimes,
though very rarely, the expectant victim may escape this exaction, through some negligence or
oversight on the part of the police. At the Baths
of Monte Catini, where I stayed for several weeks,
I found to my satisfaction that my tax-paying liabilities seemed to have escaped the attention or perception of the local authorities; but in a succeeding
place to which I went in Tuscany, I did not experience similar good fortune.
The custom-house regulations of Tuscany also
sometimes prove an annoyance of a serions kind.
The examination in the frontier -loyana of the State
being passed, the stranger who fancies that, as far
as the Grand Duchy is concerned, all luggage
troubles are at an end, will find, by subsequent experience, that this idea is incorrect, since the entrance into a town of any note in Tuscany entails
the liability of having the interiors of trunks, portmanteaus and carpet-bags explored anew.  The
walls of the mediseval republican cities of Italy afford
a most tempting facility for levying taxes upon their
inhabitants-a facility which is taken advantage of
by the authorities, who, through the medium of officials stationed at each gate, exact the payment of a
duty on every imported article of food. As not only




236             LIFE IN TUSCANY.
the principal cities of Tuscany, such as Florence, Pisa, Sienna, Lucca, etc., are girt with walls, but towns
of meaner note —such as Prata and Pistoia, containing scarce 12,000 inhabitants —are similarly
enclosed, the infinite examinations to which the
Tuscan tourist's baggage is liable may be imagined.
Not generally, however, it must be said, is the traveler subjected to annoyance from this source; for
with many officials, the innocence of the baggage,
in regard to offenses connected with the revenue
laws, is taken on trust of the proprietor's word.
Still, in many instances, a different course is pursued; for though the expectation can never of course
exist that such articles as butter, eggs, milk or
cheese will be discovered secreted in a lady's or
gentleman's box or bag, there are to be found officials who will insist upon availing themselves of
their right of search, in case the fee that they have
demanded as the price for its non-exercise be refused.
But the culminating point of vexations of this description in Tuscany is attained at Leghorn, where
not only articles entering, but articles issuing from
the town are subject to taxation; the latter additional
affliction arising from the circumstance that Leghorn, as a free port, enjoys the privilege of receiving
all foreign merchandise free of duty within its walls.
The officials at the gates have thus a double duty
to perform, for whilst they have to guard against
the furtive entrance of articles of food within the




MANNERS AND INCIDENTS.        237
town, they have to exert themselves still more sedulously to prevent the clandestine exit of Manchester
prints, French gloves, and, in fact, all kinds of merchandise. No inhabitant of that portion of Leghorn
which extends'" beyond the walls can buy the most
trifling article in the town, without being obliged,
in bringing it home, to have recourse to some stratagem to evade the payment of heavy dues. The lady
who has bought a bonnet from some fashionable
milliner, conveys the new purchase home upon her
head; and each dress that. issues from the workwoman's hands is conveyed to its destination on the
person of the proprietor. Gloves, laces, ribbons,
boots and shoes are stowed away in secret pockets,
and many a crinoline has been made to lend its aid
to hide the smuggling transactions of its wearer.
There is no place in the world, perhaps, where the
contraband trade is so vigorously prosecuted, so ardently carried on, as at the gates of Leghorn. Lady and gentleman, artisan and servant, all smuggle:
all alike try to evade the revenue laws, and to elude
the vigilance of custom-house officials; and I confess that on two or three occasions during my residence at Leghorn, I followed in this respect the
example set me by the inhabitants of the town.
The system of espionage which prevails under the
government of the Grand Duke affects most prejudicially the domestic happiness of the natives of
Tuscany, for through its influence, mistrust and sus



238             LIFE IN TUSCANY.
picion are infused into the social intercourse of relatives as well as of friends. Even women are sometimes haunted by a dread of treachery on the part
of their nearest kindred; and a strict injunction to
secrecy often followed remarks of a political character that were made to me. On one occasion a
daughter asked me to refrain from mentioning her
observations to her father, and was still more urgent
in her entreatise that I should pursue a similar
course in reference to her sister; alleging in justification of her request, that although she did not
believe the latter was a Government spy, she yet
could never divest herself of a certain feeling of
insecurity on the subject. This was an extreme
case, no doubt, but still it affected me painfully; for
no state of existence can be more deplorable than
that in which the Scripture denunciation seems in
any degree to be fulfilled: "A man's foes shall be
they of his own household."
The ceremony of blessing the houses is to the
stranger one of the most peculiar religious observances of Passion week in Italy; and, as this rite
may be novel to others as it was to me, I shall
detail the mode in which it was performed before
my view.
One afternoon in Easter week, as I was reading
in my sitting-room, my studies were suddenly interrupted by the entrance of the maid-servant, who,
calling out in a loud voice, "il prete" (the priest),




MANNERS AND INCIDENTS.        239
threw the door wide open to give admission to the
visitor. Somewhat startled by this announcement,
I glanced towards the door, just as a tall young
priest, wearing a white cassock, entered the room.
Keeping my seat -for I saw at once the visit was
not to me — I watched the priest as, preceded by
the servant, he advanced at a slow and measured
pace into the room; and whilst he recited in a low
tone some sentences from an open book he held in
his hand, there followed in his train a boy attired
in white, who sprinkled the floor as he proceeded,
by swinging to and fro a small vessel containing
water. Progressing in this order, the strange procession defiled before my view, until reaching the
door of my bed-room, which was flung open by the
servant, they disappeared within. A minute or
more elapsed, during which I continued to hear the
priest's low, mumbling tones, and then the procession
reappeared, to defile again before my view in the
same order and with the same ceremonial as previously.
Amongst the different ways of traveling in Italy,
that by vetturino (as it is termed) implies a mode
utterly different from any practiced in England; for
whilst an hotel bill is ever an inevitable accompaniment of journeys performed within the precincts of
the British Isles, we may travel, if we choose, through
the whole extent of Italy, from north to south, with
only an occasional glimpse of one of those unpleas



240             LIFE IN TUSCANY.
ant documents. Notwithstanding, however, this
happy exemption from a great grievance appertaining to an erratic life, the traveler by vetturino cannot
make his way, save through the medium of a wellfilled purse; for his immunity from the sight of
hotel bills is only secured by the payment of the
cost of board and lodging on the road to the proprietor of the carriage in which he travels. The
essential difference, therefore, between this mode of
traveling and any adopted in England, consists in
the payment of the whole expenses of the route to
one person, who undertakes, for a certain stipulated
sum, to convey the traveler free of all extra cost to
his destination. No vetturino carriage will, however,
go beyond a certain distance from its starting-point;
at least, as a general rule, there are two stations between which it plies exclusively. For instance, the
Neapolitan vetturino carriage goes no further than
Rome; the Roman conveyance stops at Florence;
and from thence Genoa or Venice is only attainable
under this system by a Florentine vehicle, or by one
performing its return journey to either of those
towns.
Vetturini carriages vary much in size and character; some are small and thoroughly uncomfortable,
whilst others afford ample and even luxurious accommodation, to the party of four inside and two outside they are in general constructed to carry; and
when every one of these six seats are occupied, this




MANNERS AND INCIDENTS.          241
mode of traveling is the cheapest that can be adopted in Italy. Though a vetturino carriage is usually
hired for the journey by a family or a party of
friends, yet in cases where the number rendered desirable by economical considerations cannot be mustered by the parties themselves, the proprietor of the
carriage will generally be able to fill up the vacant
seats; a registry being kept in his bureau of persons who have signified their wish to travel, about
a certain period, by a particular route, to some specified town.
The party being made up, and the price arranged,
the next step in the business is the signature of a
contract, which sets forth, in the most precise terms,
the amount of scudi to be paid per head, the number of days to be occupied by the journey, the number of horses to be furnished, the hours for starting
and for resting, the halting-places for the night, and
the three daily meals that are to be supplied. This
done, half of the stipulated price is paid, and in
case of any alleged breach of faith, the payment of
the remaining moiety may be withheld until the
case has been submitted to legal adjudication.
In an age of which the characteristic feature is rapidity of movement, it seems like going back to the
last century to creep along in vetturino fashion; for,
as the horses are never changed throughout the
journey, a distance of more than fire and thirty
miles a day is seldom accomplished. To the ordi16




242             LIFE IN TUSCANY.
nary race of eager, impetuous, restless travelers,
whom the British Isles annually send forth to traverse the Continent, this snail-like rate of progress
would certainly prove most intolerably wearisome;
but to quiet temperaments, the vetturino mode of
traveling is not devoid of charm. Doubtless, in the
uncertain climate, and under the cloudy skies of
England, the railroad system of locomotion is to be
preferred; but in Italy, where, except in the winter
months, the landscape is steeped in light by a sun
that, day after day, pours down its rays from a vault
of the clearest blue, a tincture of the dolce far niente
in traveling, as well as in ordinary life, commends
itself to the sympathies of impressionable natures in
a considerable degree. Many a pleasant scene returns to me connected with my journey by vetturino
from Naples to Rome; scenes in which orange gardens, vine-encircled fields and mountains, bathed in
the warm tints of a southern clime, blend with remembrances of ruined castles and dilapidated old
towns.
But if the slow rate of progress incident to the
vetturino system of traveling in Italy transports the
stranger back in fancy to a bygone century, the same
effect is still more powerfully produced by the danger existing in that country of a personal encounter
with highwaymen. A hundred years ago, no English country gentleman, who left home for London,
felt any assurance of reaching his destination with



MANNERS AND INCIDENTS.        243
out being plundered on the road by robbers; and
he never passed across a lonely heath, without casting many an anxious glance around, to see if masked and mounted highwaymen were drawing near.
The stories told by stage-coach travelers to each
other, related chiefly to this theme, and so many
tales of highway robbery were to be found recorded
in the columns of the public journals, that such accounts could scarcely aspire to the distinction of
taking rank above the mere commonplace incidents
of the times.
But whilst with us the phase of social life marked
by the presence of highwaymen has passed away,
far different is the case in Italy, for there the traveler is exposed to the same risks our grandfathers
or great grandfathers incurred. Fostered by the
misrule which prevails throughout the greatest portion of the peninsula, brigandage is rife not only in
the Papal and Neapolitan dominions, but even in
the better governed State of Tuscany. During my
residence at Florence, a diligence guarded by soldiers was waylaid near Arezzo by a band of twelve
brigands, who, after a sharp conflict, fled, leaving
four of their number dead upon the ground. But
though incidents of this description are by no means
rare in Tuscany, they fade into insignificance in
number and interest compared with those the Papal
States afford; and to judge from recorded facts, the
brigands living under Papal rule are at the head of




244             LIFE IN TUSCANY.
their profession in Italy, in point of fierceness and
audacity.
A very daring feat was performed by them in the
immediate vicinity of Velletri, only a few weeks before I passed through that town on my journey from
Naples to Rome. An Italian gentleman, residing
in Velletri, drove out in his carriage one autumn
day, for the purpose of visiting an estate he possessed in the immediate vicinity of the town; but before
he had reached his destination, and whilst he was
within a mile of the town, his progress was arrested
by a band of armed brigands. Being quite unprepared for such an encounter, neither the gentleman
nor his servant dared to resist the order they received to accompany their captors, who led them
speedily to a cave. On arriving there, the gentleman was provided with a seat, and pen, ink and
paper being produced, he was ordered to write
forthwith to a personal friend of his residing in
Velletri.
With a heavy heart, resulting from unpleasant
forebodings in regard to the nature of the communication he would be obliged to make, the gentleman commenced the note, in the terms dictated to
him by the robber at his side; but before more than
a few words had been written, he dropped his pen,
with an exclamation of horror and dismay, on finding himself ordered to intimate that certain death
awaited him at sunset, if a sum of eighteen hundred




MANNERS AND INCIDENTS.         245
scudi was not transmitted to his captors before that
time.
"It is impossible," protested the prisoner. "In
such a town as Velletri, a sum so large as that cannot be collected before sunset."
After some discussion on the point, in which remonstrances on one side were met by threats on
the other, the brigands agreed to abate their demand
to twelve hundred scudi; and the gentleman, finding he had no alternative but to choose between
death or submission, wrote in the most urgent terms
to beseech his friend to make every exertion to collect the amount required in the specified time. The
letter finished, it was given to the servant, who was
despatched to town, with the intimation that the
slightest symptom of treachery on his part would
infallibly be expiated by his master's instant death.
The day wore slowly, anxiously onward to the
prisoner in the cave, his mind being harrassed with
the doubt as to the possibility of the sum required
being raised in time to save him from his threatened
fate; and as he saw the sun approaching the horizon without any visible sign of the returning messenger, hope died within his breast. At length, just
as the fatal moment was at hand, an intimation being given him to prepare for death, the servant was
descried hastening to the spot; and as he brought
the stipulated sum, the brigands, true to their promise, liberated their prisoner, and then fled to the




246            LIFE IN TUSCANY.
mountains, to secure the unmolested enjoyment of
their prize.
Another still more melodramatic-incident occurred
in the Papal States not long ago, the heroine of
which was a young lady of noble birth, residing for
her education in a convent situated in the immediate vicinity of the town of Bologna. An orphan,
and destined to inherit a large property on the attainment of her majority, this young lady was a
particular object of solicitude to the nuns under
whose guardianship she was placed; and relying on
the high walls which surrounded the convent
grounds, they entertained as little apprehension in
reference to her safety as they did in respect to their
own. The confidence, however, which they felt in
the security of their position was destined one day
to be rudely destroyed; for a nun, while walking in
the garden, was suddenly confronted with a masked
and armed bandit, who, seizing her by the arm,
while he pointed a pistol at her head, swore that
he would kill her if she did not immediately point
out the heiress, or deliver her up to him. The
threat was effectual; for the nun, in an agony of
terror that destroyed all presence of mind as well as
all power of utterance, pointed to the girl, who happened to be visible on the terrace; and the intended
victim, ere she was aware of the danger that threatened her, was seized and carried off before the eyes
of the shrieking and terror-stricken sisterhood.




MANNERS AND INCIDENTS.        247
Rejoining his comrades outside the convent walls,
the brigand mounted a fleet horse, and galloped off
to the mountains with his prize.
This audacious act produced the most intense excitement at Bologna, but before any step had been
taken to liberate the girl, the brigands, into whose
power she had fallen, sent an intimation that they
were willing to restore her for a certain sum. The
amount, however, which they demanded by way of
ransom was so large, that its payment would involve
the surrender of more than half the young lady's
fortune; it was therefore agreed that an attempt
should be made to recover her by force. On this
determination being made known, many students at
the University of Bologna offered their services to
effect the object in view; and, under the leadership
of a young man who evidenced the most ardent interest in the captive's fate, the chivalrous troop succeeded in rescuing the young lady from the brigands'
den. The conclusion of the tale was quite in keeping with the romantic character of the incidents
detailed, for the heiress subsequently married the
leader of the student band; and it is to be hoped
that they now enjoy as great an amount of bliss as
in general awaits the hero and heroine of fiction.
The famous Claude Duval of robber literature
seems to have his counterpart in Italy at this present
day; for, though I am not aware that there is any
instance on record of an Italian brigand allowing a




248            LIFE IN TUSCANY.
lady to ransom herself by dancing a coranto with
him on the road, yet a very Claude-like spirit of
courtesy was displayed by a troop of bandits, who,
waylaying and stopping a diligence on the northern
frontier of Tuscany, in the spring of 1856, not only
entreated the ladies to dismiss all fear, and politely
assisted them to alight, but gave bonbons to a child
to still his cries of terror at the sight of the many
masks. The same spirit of courtesy characterized
their subsequent dealings with the passengers, for,
satisfied with 20,000 franks of Government money
they found in the diligence-and for which, probably, from information received, they had come in
search-they left untouched the baggage of the travelers, and, without depriving one of them of purse,
watch, or ring, took their departure in the most
courteous manner, saluting the travelers with many
bows, whilst uttering expressions of regret at having caused them alarm or inconvenience. Chivalrous brigands like these, however, are rare in Italy,
for brutal fierceness and audacity are in general the
distinguishing features of the Italian highwayman.
But notwithstanding the danger of encounters
with brigands, tourists abound in Italy; and stimulated by the old Vyking spirit of love of enterprise
and change apparently inherent in the Anglo-Saxon
race, the Americans vie in number with English
travelers; and vie with them also in the broadcast
style in which they scatter their money over the




MANNERS AND INCIDENTS.         249
land. Let the English milord take heed, for he has
a rival in the field who contests with him  the first
place in the love and respect of guides, waiters, and
hotel keepers.
" Ah! signorina," said a cicerone to me one day,
" it is a very pleasant thing, I allow, to have dealings with your country people, but I prefer to serve
the Americans; for while the English give like
kings, the Americans bestow like emperors."
A course of foreign travel is theoretically considered to exercise a beneficial influence on the mind
through the information it supplies, as well as through
the new and enlarged views of life it offers to the
stranger's notice. Rational, however, as such a theory seems, experience proves it to be far from generally true; for though in some instances the
predicted benefit may be found, yet there are very
many of the swarm of English tourists to be met
abroad, who return to their own country no wiser
than when they left it, except in so far as the mere
guidebook lore of Murray is concerned. The results of foreign travel on the mind and character,
depend entirely upon the spirit in which it is prosecuted, and those who journey from place to place, as
many do, with no object but amusement, are not
likely to derive much benefit from their wanderings.
As an illustration of this class of tourists, I shall
detail a conversation I had with a young English
gentleman I met in Italy.




250            LIFE IN TUSCANY.
" You will doubtless visit Venice on your way to
Switzerland?" I observed, on hearing him express
his intention to go to Geneva.
" I don't think I shall," he drawled out, languidly,
in answer; "it wouldn't pay, I fancy; for I am
told that the opera-house there is not open at
present."
The idea of Venice being only attractive to the
stranger in a musical point of view, struck me as
being so exquisitely ridiculous, that I had a great
difficulty in maintaining a polite degree of gravity,
as I rejoined:
" You are, I conclude, extremely fond of music?"
" I can't say I am," was the reply; " for I don't
well know the music of one opera from another;
but for all that, an opera house affords me a pleasant enough lounge, and helps me to get through the
time when I am traveling."
Another means resorted to by this young gentleman " to get through the time," was by smoking
incessantly; and I fairly shrink from the labor of
calculating the number of cigars he must have consumed in pursuance of this object, ere, on the completion of his travels, he returned to enlighten the
London world with the result of his foreign experiences.




CHAPTER IX.
RELIGION.
F the influence exerted over the heart
corresponds in strength with the impression made upon the eye, the Roman
Catholic Church of Italy has reason to
exult in the great power it enjoys. From
the first to the last hour of residence in Italy,
q   mementoes of the Roman Catholic faith continually meet the stranger's sight. Go where
we may throughout that land, the church is the
most prominent object in the view. Not less, assuredly, is this the case in Tuscany, than in the
other States comprised within the one common term
of Italy. In Pisa, one-half of the population of that
desolate place would almost seem, to the stranger's
eye, to be composed of priests. In Florence, though
the number of that body does not appear to be so
great in proportion to the rest of the inhabitants,
one cannot walk a dozen yards without encounter



252             LIFE IN TUSCANY.
ing a black-robed figure, whose shaven face is overshadowed by the luxuriant brim of a clerical threecornered hat. With scarcely less frequency, too,
does the eye discern the shaven crown, the cord-girt
waist, and the sandaled feet of the brown-clad Capuchin monk. Here and there, also, the attention
is very probably arrested by the sight of a burly
friar, or member of some religious order, clothed in
a dress of spotless white; whilst from time to time
the Sister of Charity, with her snowy coif surmounted by a large straw hat, comes into view. On every
hand churches with open doors silently invite the
sinner to prayer, and church bells cease not to issue
their noisy summons to the same effect, with an unwearying assiduity quite painful to the ear.
Throughout the country generally, the externals
of religion offer themselves to the stranger's notice
in a no less conspicuous manner. Within a niche
formed in the road-side wall, a picture or image of
the Virgin attracts, every here and there, at very
short intervals, the traveler's notice. In the midst
of every small cluster of rural dwellings, the village
church is seen; and in secluded spots, and bypaths
worn almost solely by the peasant's feet, small oratories are found. In quiet lanes and narrow tracks,
as well as by public thoroughfares, large crosses are
upreared, to which the emblems of the Passion,
carved in wood, are not unfrequently attached, and
thus the unlettered peasant has daily before his eyes




RELIGION.               253
a pictured Gospel, wherein he daily reads the history of that great sacrifice which was offered up
for human sin. Rude, and sometimes ludicrous,
are these representations; but the details of rustic
artists' work are unmistakable-the crown of thorns,
the seamless coat, the scourge, the cup that held the
vinegar, the sponge, and the reed to which it was
fixed, the nails that pierced hands and feet, the hammer which drove in the nails, the pincers that took
them  out, the hand that struck, the sword that
smote, and the severed ear of the High Priest's servant, the ladder by which the body of the Saviour
was taken down, and the cock whose loud clarion
pierced to the depths of the erring apostle's soulall these, and other signs of the same description,
are constantly displayed on the road-side cross.
With the external emblems of faith thus abundantly displayed, it becomes an interesting point to
ascertain if the Roman Catholic Church exercises a
real sway over the hearts and minds of the inhabitants of Italy. The aged tree will put forth leaves
when time has wasted its trunk to a mere shell; and
the temple, with its marble front, may still outwardly
make an imposing show, whilst inside it is mouldering to decay. How stands the question, then, with
the Roman Catholic Church of Italy?  Are the
hollow tree and the ruined temple types of its position at the present hour in that country?
Though the answer might not differ with regard




254             LIFE IN TUSCANY.
to the position of the church throughout the whole
of Italy, yet restricting the question to Tuscany, it
is only due to truth to say that, from what fell under my observation during a ten months' residence,
it seemed to me that even the warmest opponents of
the Church of Rome could not in fairness but admit
that, far from being a mouldering fragment of the
past, the church, though old, is still a vigorous living plant, well rooted in the hearts of the great
bulk of the population of that country.
The evidences which point to this conclusion force
themselves plentifully on the stranger's eye. Before
the altar at which the priest says mass-whether in
the grand cathedral adorned with precious marbles,
costly pictures, and glittering with gold, or in the
plain, unpretending whitewashed interior of the village church —a throng of kneeling worshipers is
always seen. Though some, perhaps, may be diverted from their devotions by the unwonted sight of a
stranger in their midst, yet these are few compared
with those whose bended heads, unwandering eyes,
and earnest looks attest the reality and fervency of
their faith. But whilst such is the scene invariably
displayed on every festa day —when, amidst tinkling bells and swinging censors, the richly robed
priest offers up the sacrifice of the mass-not less
strikingly, on ordinary occasions, does the city
church give evidence of strong devotional feelings
on the part of the humbler classes of the land.




RELIGION.               255
Between dawn and night, the heavy leather curtain
that hangs before the entrance of every sanctuary
is often raised to give admission to the devotional
visitant. Strikingly impressive to the eye are the
kneeling forms which one sees scattered here and
there over the vast pavement of the grand columned
aisles of Santa Croce, or bending low at some side
altar before the Madonna's venerated picture. The
servant, on her way from market, with basket in
hand, the tradesman's wife, with handkerchief-covered head, the mechanic, the artizan in his workstained dress, the beggar in his tattered garb-each
and all come, with earnest and reverential mien, to
offer up their prayers. In country districts, a bunch
of freshly-gathered flowers is generally seen in a
niche in the roadside wall before the image of the
Madonna, attesting the peasant's pious zeal; and
still more forcibly is the same spirit shown when, on
the occasion of some church festival, he presses forward to take part in the procession-to follow in the
train of chanting priests in a holy garb of black,
carrying the wax-taper, or bearing aloft the ponderous image or sacred banner.
But, whilst the Roman Catholic Church seems to
possess the respect and love of the lower classes of
Tuscany, its power amongst the upper ranks of
society appears to be feeble and circumscribed.
Judging not only from what I saw, but from what
I heard, infidelity prevails in the upper circles of




256             LIFE IN TUSCANY.
society to a considerable extent. To enter a fashionable church at Florence, at a fashionable hour, is
to witness a display of vanity, of show, and irreligiousness, and to behold a sanctuary, built for communion with God, degraded to a theatre, a lounge,
a haunt of idleness. The Florentine lady, dressed
out to the last extreme of the prevailing mode,
comes not to pray, so much as to exhibit her graces
to the eyes of admirers. Within the folds of the
young lady's handkerchief may not unlikely be
found a letter destined to be transferred clandestinely, if opportunity offers, to the hand of the
favored lover. The gentlemen, on their part, display, in the most unambiguous manner, how little
religion has to do with their appearance in the sacred
place. They stand together in groups of two or
three, and turning from the altar and the officiating
priest, gaze with effrontery on every lady's face;
they talk together in loud whispers, smile, nod their
heads, and even indulge occasionally in a silent
laugh. Hypocrites they are not, certainly, for they
do not try to cloak, by any affectation of devotion,
the purposes of mere amusement, for which they
came; they make no pretense to pray: to bow their
head during the elevation of the IIost is the only
religious act they perform. Truly, a visit to a fashionable church at Florence, at a fashionable hour,
and a visit to a more humble, religious edifice, fre



RELIGION.              257
quented by the lower classes of the community,
affbrd as great a contrast as can be well conceived.
" There was not one of all the leaders of our party
who was not an infidel," said the wife of a gentleman
who had taken a prominent part in the republican
movement in Tuscany; and this testimony to the
prevalence of infidelity was corroborated from other
quarters. Young men who hope to gain a government appointment, which is dependent in a great
degree on the favorable report of a minister of the
church, adopt a stratagem to save themselves from
going to confession at the period obligatory on every
Catholic for this rite to be performed. A short time
before Easter, every house is visited by a priest, not
only to bless it, and sprinkle each room with holy
water, but to write down the name of every grown
up individual therein, on each of whom it is obligatory to appear in the confessional; and a ticket is
given to each one who confesses, testifying to the
religious duty having been performed. A short time
after Easter, the priest makes his round again, to
take back the tickets that have been given, in order
thus to ascertain if the ordinances of the church
have in every instance been obeyed. A register is
kept of those who can produce no tickets, and the
black mark affixed to their names effectually bars
them from the chance of obtaining the smallest government appointment; as, before such appointment
is conferred, reference is invariably made to the
17




258             LIFE IN TUSCANY.
minister of the parish in which the applicant for
office resides, to know if the religious duties of such
applicant have been properly fulfilled. To avoid,
therefore, the pains and penalties that follow on the
priest's unfavorable report, and, at the same time,
to escape from the abhorred obligations of the confessional, young men are in the habit of buying up
the services of not over-scrupulous consciences, who,
fulfilling the obligatory rite in the names of their
employers, receive a ticket, which is duly delivered
up at the required time. An Italian Catholic assured
me that this confessional agency business was a
thriving trade in Florence, and that in many instances one young man would, under the names of his
different employers, visit in the course of a few days
a dozen confessionals in Florence; and of course
receive a dozen tickets purporting that Giovanni, or
Giuseppe, or Gaetano, or Tomaso, etc., as the case
might be, had duly confessed his sins.
But though amongst the mass of the population
in Tuscany, the evidences of a warm faith in the
tenets of their church may be discerned, their respect
and affection for the ministers of that church by no
means seem to correspond. On the part of many
who were extremely strict in the performance of their
religious duties, who held implicitly every tenet of
the Roman Catholic faith, I have found a feeling
towards the priesthood very far indeed from a reverential one. At the Baths of Monte Catini, the mis



RELIGION.               259
tress of the hotel where I was staying, a rigid Catholic, told me she avoided as much as she possibly
could the admission of the cose nere (black things)
into her house; and she gave me reasons for doing
so, which were anything but complimentary to the
ministers of her church. I have heard avarice,
stinginess and immorality imputed to them, by persons entirely free from all Protestant tendencies.
The very bitterest enemy of them I knew was a
zealous Catholic woman, who had masses constantly
performed for the benefit of a deceased uncle's soul,
who wore a medallion of the Virgin next her heart,
kept a bone of St. Anthony in her purse, and had a
memento of some other saint suspended round her
neck.
Ready credence is given by the gente bassa (lower
classes) to every tale of a miraculous nature they
may hear. According to them, heaven still communes directly with humanity in various ways; the
angel or the saint comes down from Paradise to
whisper into the slumberer's ears; glances into the
land of spirits are obtained at times, by mortals
spiritually pure; the Virgin smiles upon her devout
worshipers through the painted canvas that bears
her name; and the touch of the sacred relic restores
vigor to the paralyzed limb, hearing to the deaf, and
sight to the blind. As a sample of one of this class
of modern miracles, the following tale may not be




260            LIFE IN TUSCANY.
uninteresting, narrated in the manner it was told me
by an Italian girl:
" In a convent in Florence, called the Santa Rosa,
there lives a nun, a very holy nun, by whose means
last year many a one dying of that terrible cholera*
was cured. The convent belongs to one of those
orders which shuts itself out most entirely from the
world; and the nun about whom I am going to tell
you, passed her days almost wholly in her cell, where
she told over her beads, and repeated litanies to the
Virgin continually. She lived quite like a saint;
and surely she could not have been far from one
either, when a real saint came down from heaven to
speak to her, as you will hear. Well, quite away
from the world as this nun lived, she could not help
hearing about the cholera when it came to the town;
and how, week after week, it was carrying off hundreds to their graves. Death, you may be certain,
was no terror to her, for where should she go except
to the angels in Paradise? But she, knowing that
many a one, cut off in an hour perhaps by the cholera, was ill-prepared to die, and had no time to
make peace with God, grieved very much at the
news she heard, and she prayed very fervently for
hours together that the scourge might be withdrawn.
" One night, after she had especially supplicated
the saints' and the blessed Virgin's aid, she awoke
* The cholera raged in Tuscany during the summer and autumn of
1855.




RELIGION.              261
up suddenly from her sleep, and saw before her a
form like that an angel might have, all radiant as
the sun. Trembling greatly, but filled with joy, she
bowed her head with reverence; and then came
words to her ear that told her it was St. Dominick
who was her visitor. After which, the saint informed
her that he had been sent down from heaven, in answer to her prayers, with the power of conferring
on the water of a particular well in the neighborhood the power to cure all such as might be attacked with cholera. Having said these words, St.
Dominick disappeared, leaving the nun filled with
joy and thanksgiving; but when morning came,
she, thinking what a poor sinful creature she was,
and of the unlikelihood from this cause, that any
saint should be sent from Paradise to talk with her,
began strongly to doubt the reality of the vision she
saw; and at last, persuading herself that she had
been deluded by a dream, she determined not to
breathe a word upon the matter to her sister nuns;
particularly now that she recalled to mind that the
well referred to in the midnight vision had long been
dry.' On the succeeding night, however, all doubts as
to the reality of the vision she had seen were removed; for once more appeared the radiant light,
and the form of the glorified saint, and once more
he spoke to her, repeating what he had said before about the powers conferred upon the water of




262             LIFE IN TUSCANY.
a particular well to cure; and reproving her for her
incredulity, he told her to loose no time in making
known the good tidings to the world. Then, in
obedience to the holy saint, the nun on the next
morning communicated to her sisters and to her
confessor what had occurred; and on hearing the
intelligence, the confessor going off to see the well,
found it, not dry as it had been for years and years
before, but filled up with water to the brim — a certain proof of the truth of all that the nun had told.
The news of the miracle that had been wrought
spreading far and near, the people, not only of the
town, but from the country, came flocking to the
well with bottles to be filled; and the blessed water
did indeed work manv miraculous cures."
The special intervention of the Virgin in cases of
danger and sickness, is thoroughly believed to be a
circumstance of almost daily occurrence.  In the
church of the Annunciata in Florence, is a fresco of
the Annunciation, painted by angels (according to
popular belief), and possessing also, according to
the same authority, miraculous powers to heal.
Confidence in the supernatural gifts popularly ascribed to this picture must in all probability have
recently received a great increase, as the Virgin, in
this piece of angelic workmanship, has lately been
crowned with a glittering diadem, costing 8,0001.
This picture is only exposed on extraordinary occasions; such, for instance, as the Feast of the An



RELIGION.               263
nunciation, or during a period when death may
happen to be menacing the life of any of the members of the Grand Ducal family: in whose behoof it
is supposed the uncovered face has power to expel
from the suffering frame the fell poison of disease.
According to the authority of the sacristan of the
church, a very recent manifestation of the mriraculous healing gifts of the picture had occurred; a
young archduke, whose life was despaired of by the
faculty, being restored to health by the unveiling of
the Virgin's face for a space of three days' time!
In the church attached to the monastery of Monte
Nero, situated in the neighborhood of Leghorn,
may be seen a celebrated picture of the Virgin,
which has been an object of veneration to the inhabitants of the surrounding district for more than
five hundred years. The history attached to this
picture is a somewhat curious one; for, according
to the concurrent testimony of different writers on
the subject, this picture, setting off on a long voyage in the year 1345, sailed by itself from the island
of Negropont to the shores of Tuscany; where,
found by a shepherd at a place called Ardenza, in
the immediate vicinity of Monte Nero, it was, by
the direction of the Virgin, carried to the spot
where it may now be seen.
Dimmed and darkened, by the effect of time and
the smoke of tapers, to a degree that renders the
Virgin's features almost undistinguishable to the




264             LIFE IN TUSCANY.
distant gaze-this picture, enshrined in costly marbles, and occupying an elevated position above the
high altar of the church, calls forth in the humble
Catholic feelings of the most unlimited reverence.
More especially also is this the case with those
whose lives are passed amongst the perils of the
deep-a circumstance attributable, doubtless, to the
maritime peregrinations of the picture, according to
the traditionary tale. To the mariner from those
coasts, that dull, dim painting awakes the liveliest
feelings of reverence and devotion in his breast: before it he breathes his most fervent vows; and
amidst the roar of raging winds and waves, and
every danger to which he may be exposed-the protection of the holy "Lady of Storms" * is ardently
invoked. The menaced danger escaped, the sailor
returning to his native coast, speeds to the Monte
Nero church, and there suspends a votive offering to
the Virgin, as a tribute of his gratitude to her who
in the hour of danger had saved him (as he believes)
from death.
It is a curious sight to see those sailors' offerings,
mingled as they are with others contributed by the
neighboring peasantry. A bunch of cable ends
hangs in close vicinity to various articles of feminine
attire; old coats and muskets range together, and a
great stock of crutches cover a considerable portion
* An epithet applied to the representation of the Virgin in the picture.




RELIGION.               265
of the wall. Pictures, however, form the principal
portion of the offerings to be seen, and the sides of
three or four small rooms opening off the church
are covered with small pictorial representations of
the most tragic scenes. Here is a picture of a ship
ready, apparently, to be swallowed up by the devouring waves; which picture, according to an inscription underneath, was presented as a votive
offering to the Virgin by Angelo Biondi, who on
the 4th of September, 1843, was saved by the favor
of the Virgin from impending death. This painting, the type of innumerable others of a similar
kind, contains, in the corner, the representation of
the Virgin and Child appearing amidst the clouds.
Another class of pictures (if such rude daubs deserve that term) are devoted to delineations of perils
escaped by dwellers on land. The dwelling on fire,
with the alarmed inmates descending from the third
story by a rope, is matched in artistic merit by a
composition representing a man in the act of tumbling from the roof of a high house. Very desperate,
indeed, seems the position of the poor wretch, over
whose head the wheel of a carriage is about to pass;
but it scarcely yields in tragic power to the representation of a scene where a hapless individual is
being tossed up into the air by an infuriated bull.
Surrounded by weeping relatives, the sick, extended
upon their beds, appear as if about to take their
departure from this world; and past hope of cure




266             LIFE IN TUSCANY.
most certainly it would seem are those (and not a
few are thus depicted) from whose mouths there
flows a gushing torrent of blood. But time would
fail to enumerate all the various instances in which
life (according to the evidence of these records) has
been preserved through the Virgin's gracious aid.
These few examples are enough to evidence the
prevailing popular belief in the daily occurrence of
miraculous events.
To no doctrine of the Church of Rome do Italians
seem to cling so fondly as to that which inculcates
a particular devotion to the Virgin. To her, do
sorrow-laden hearts repair for consolation in the
hour of their distress; to her, vows are offered up
in times of danger and sickness; and through her,
penitents hope to gain pardon for their transgressions. The sinner whom the thought of divine justice confounds, turns from the presence of a justly
offended God to kneel before the shrine of a being
whose image rises before his mind as the incarnation
of kindness and mercy. In the Virgin's name the
beggar solicits alms, and the blind, the halt, the
sick, and the maimed invoke compassion for their
infirmities. The first prayer the child is taught to
lisp, and the last upon the dying man's lip, is one
to Mary. The shrine before which the lamp is
burning in the city street, or the image set up on
high above the peasant's door, is that of the Madonna; her picture graces every church, and before




RELIGION.               267
it bow down the young and old, the pure in heart
and the sin-stained soul: differing in all beside, they
yet agree in this, to. do homage to the Virgin. On
no subject does the preacher love to expatiate so
much as on her virtues and her glory; fondly he
dilates upon and depicts in vivid words the sorrows
of the bereaved and heart-stricken mother on the
mount of Calvary: he paints her oppressed with
grief unspeakable, watching beside the cross to
which was nailed the form of her cherished Son,
listening to the low groans of suffering that escaped
his lips, and marking the slow waning of the powers
of life, amidst the intensest agony. In another
strain, and in a perhaps still more forcible and enthusiastic one, the preacher passes on from a review
of the Virgin's sorrows to a description of the glorious privileges which now are hers, exalted by the
Saviour's love to a power and dignity far beyond
that of the saintly and angelic throng; and with
fluent eloquence he describes the pleasure that she
takes in exercising her influence, and the high prerogatives with which she is endowed for the relief
and benefit of suffering, sinful man: interceding
for the erring but contrite soul, shielding youth
and innocence from harm; protecting the fatherless
and the forsaken; pouring balm into the bruised
and grief-stricken soul; and suspending the hand of
Death, when his arm is raised to strike the fatal
blow.




268            LIFE IN TUSCANY.
In the praise of Mary, language seems to have
exhausted every conceivable epithet of veneration,
eulogy, and fondness:-  "Mother of piety," " of
clemency,"'" of holy love," " of consolation;".'Supreme Queen of Heaven;" " Star of the morning;"
"Queen of saints," "of angels," " of sinners;" "Immaculate lily of purity;" " Glass of sanctity," " of
truth," "of holiness;" " Most blessed," " most adorable," "most glorious Virgin;" such are a few of
the many terms applied by the devout member of
the Roman Church to the mother of the Redeemer.
Everywhere one sees in Italy signs and evidences of
the most unlimited devotion to the Virgin.
In the summer and autumn of 1855, the cholera
raged violently in Tuscany, and the victims of this
terrible disease were numerous amongst every class
of the community: young and old, rich and poor,
were alike stricken. When the cold of winter came
to arrest the progress of the malady, great fears
were entertained that the check would be but temporary, and that on the arrival of the warm weather
in the succeeding year, the scourge would be revived; but the winter ended; spring, summer, autumn came in due succession, and no cholera
appeared. The boon of this exemption from the
dreaded scourge was then immediately ascribed to
the " Blessed Virgin," and solemn services of praise
and thanksgiving were ordered by the Church to be
celebrated in her honor throughout all Tuscany.




RELIGION.              269
Of two of these services I was an accidental witness, being a resident in the vicinity of the places,
at the period there fixed on for the thanksgiving
service to be performed. The religious rites which
I had thus an opportunity of seeing, were celebrated
successively at the Baths of Lucca, and at Monte
Nero, near Leghorn. At the Baths of Lucca, the
service assumed quite the aspect of a festival, and
lasted several days; during which period the principal church was visited by many hundreds of the
country people from the neighboring districts, to
perform their devotions before a large painted
wooden image of the Virgin, dressed for the occasion in a black velvet gown, and wearing on her
breast the similitude of a heart transfixed with
small silver daggers on either side, the symbol of
" Our Lady of Sorrows."
The concluding portion of the ceremonial took
place on a Sunday afternoon; and ill the church,
which was densely crowded, after a fervent preacher
had poured forth from the pulpit, in the rich, melodious language of Tuscany, a rhapsody in the Virgin's praise, many were the candidates for office
who pressed forward to take a part in the procession that had been ordained. In a short time there
issued from the church a number of stalwart peasants, bearing aloft upon their shoulders, on a wooden
platform to which poles were attached, the sacred
image of the Virgin under an overarching canopy.




270             LIFE IN TUSCANY.
The image was borne triumphantly through the village, amidst two long files of peasant women, girls,
and men; the latter dressed in a long loose robe of
black, the former wearing veils upon their heads,
and all with waxen tapers in their hands; whilst
priests, attired in their festival robes, chanted prayers and psalms. The ceremony was a striking one
to a Protestant, and an edifying one, doubtless, to
every zealous Catholic, from the air of earnestness
and devotion that characterized the appearance of
all the participators in the performance of the
pageant.
Although members of various monastic orders
abound in Tuscany, it would seem, judging from
the paucity of inhabitants in many of the large religious edifices erected for their use, that, in comparison with former times, conventual institutions
are on the decline. Near Florence, the extensive
monastic building called La Certosa, belonging to
the Carthusian friars, is occupied how by only
twenty-four. At Monte Catini there is a convent
of imposing size, giving shelter now to only one
nun, the solitary survivor of a sisterhood whom
death has called away. Poor lone old woman!
what a forlorn existence must be that of hers, without companions to cheer her solitude-without a
being save her confessor, with whom she can interchange a thought or word! Fancy represents her
wandering with feeble steps through the long pas



RELIGION.               271
sages and deserted cells, whose echoes are never
awakened by any footstep but her own, recalling
the faces and voices of those who have passed away
in slow succession from her side, and whose mortal
forms are resting below the sod, where before long
her own may lie. HIow heavily the burden of life
must weigh upon her soul! Without human ties,
without aught but religious exercises to fill up her
time —feeble, infirm, half blind —how fervently must
death be hailed as a deliverer, a benefactor, a friendlonged for and asked for in earnest petitions addressed to the Throne on high!
Fancy draws yet another, and perhaps a truer
picture of the solitary old nun. I see her sitting in
the sunshine with bent-down head, hands folded in
one another, and eyes half closed; not sleeping, but
looking like one who sleeps, with no thought or
feeling save that of a consciousness of the grateful
warmth: torpid, listless: the present a blank, the
past brought up before her view only now and again
by the faint flickering flashes of an expiring memory: a human vegetable: a once reasoning, thinking creature, transformed by years of idleness and
solitude, combined with the effect of age, into a
mere curious mechanism of flesh and bone.
All monastic institutions very naturally tend to
the deterioration of the intellect, the enfeeblement
of the mental faculties. Solitude is, indeed, sometimes a great teacher; purifying the heart and ele



272             LIFE IN TUSCANY.
vating the mind; but solitude, to effect such ends,
must address itself to natures of a superior order:
to capacities above the range of those that fall to
the lot of the ordinary class of mankind. To those
who can find "sermons in stones," whose intelligence is sharpened by education, and who have capacities to follow up long trains of thought, and the
ability to investigate into great moral truths-yet
who, too weak to resist temptation, find themselves
dragged into sin and its attendant sorrow by communion with the world-seclusion is a real, undeniable good, an unequivocal benefit. But to ordinary
intellects, solitude is fraught with baneful consequences; since for such limited intelligences a deficiency of ideas must necessarily be supplied by a
variety of sensations, or else the human being declines into something akin to a mere vegetable. To
the common herd of men and women, the discipline
of life is necessary; hopes and fears, joys and sorrows, successes and defeats, affections, friendships,
rivalries, and all the changes and chances of ordinary existence are required by them to sharpen perception and to supply nourishment to thought and
imagination. Vain is it to contend against Nature
and Providence; the material and spiritual portions
of our being, blended together by its Creator, cannot on earth be sundered with impunity: the attempt to become wholly spiritual, either turns man
into a fevered visionary, a fanatic, or else (as is too




RELIGION.               273
commonly the case) degrades him to a mere brutelike, unreasoning creature. In the countenances of
the majority of the many monks and friars that
came under my notice in Italy, I saw most unequivocally evidenced the evils that result from the isolation of man from  his fellows. Here and there,
indeed, amongst that class, I noticed a face through
which the mind shone forth; but such were few
compared with those in whose dull, moody looks and
lustreless eyes I read the signs of a torpid or a wellnigh blighted intellect.
Though conventual life, with its loneliness, its
isolation, its paralyzation of the aflections, is even
more opposed to the nature of wonlan than to that
of man, and still more likely therefore to result in
baneful consequences to heart and mind; there
are yet circumstances in the position of most of the
religious sisterhoods of Italy, which neutralize the
evil in a great degree, and give them, intellectually
and morally, eminent advantages over most of their
cowled and cord-girt brethren; for many orders of
nuns enjoy the privilege of converting their convents,
in a great degree, into educational establishments.
Numerous schools of this description exist in Italy,
and not a few in Florence, where young girls, under
the guardianship and instruction of nuns, are duly
initiated into all that is thought necessary for girls
to learn. The fashionable mother, harrassed by the
requirements of the supposed maternal duty of keep18




274             LIFE IN TUSCANY.
ing a constant watch over the movements of her
young unmarried daughter, gladly makes over the
task to the pious sisterhood, whose high-walled precincts bid defiance to the approach of lovers. The
otherwise lonely and monotonous existence of the
nuns is thus enlivened by many sources of pleasure
and interest; and towards their young pupils they
become naturally bound by many ties of affection
and sympathy. Nor surely by this, and by the diversion of her thoughts for some hours of every day
from merely spiritual things, does the nun's nature
become less holy, or she herself less deserving of
mercy or salvation, than if from morn till night she
sang hymns and repeated prayers continually.
But even within the walls of these conventual
seminaries there exist women, to whom the occupation of teaching does not suffice to fill up the void
which the severance of domestic ties has caused in
their being. "Many nuns seem very happy and
contented," said girls to me who had been educated
in convents; "but there are some who never smile
or say a word, and who always wear a sad, pining
expression of countenance." A pining nun! what
painful ideas does such a term evoke: how unspeakably mournful must be the existence of one who,
consigned by family influences to a life for which
she had no natural avocation, or who, abandoned by
the enthusiasm which had impelled her to the act
of worldly abnegation, finds herself bound by irre



RELIGION.              275
vocable vows to a lot which every moment becomes
to her more wearisomely monotonous and dreary!
How vividly in the darkness of night, or in her
many solitary daylight hours, must rise up before
her inward sight bright pictures of the world from
which she is severed so entirely! Father, mother,
sisters, brothers, assembled around the domestic
hearth, their faces bright with smiles, with gladness
and enjoyment; strolls in company with friends
and relatives under the overarching trees in the
summer time, and seats by cooling fountains; vows
breathed forth of love and admiration; the kind
husband, the merry children-ideas like these must
often rise before the vision of the pining sister.
Each bird that wings its flight from tree to tree in
the convent garden, each breath of wind that plays
amongst the rustling foliage, each filmy wreath of
cloud that flits across the bright blue sky, symbols
of freedom as they are, must all increase her longing, her craving, her intense desire for liberty.
An Italian lady told me of an incident that occurred in reference to this subject which came under
her own personal knowledge-an incident of the
same kind that has given the name of the Fair Maid
of Roncesvalles a place in song and story. A girl
in the higher ranks of life was betrothed to a young
officer, who, being sent off on a somewhat distant
military expedition, had not very long left the side
of his destined bride, when the intelligence reached




276            LIFE IN TUSCANY.
her ears that he had fallen in an engagement with
the enemy. Despair seizing her at this news, she
declared that for her the world henceforth had lost
every charm, and precipitately retired to a convent;
where, as soon as conventual regulations would permit, she took the veil and vows. But far too hasty,
she soon found out, had been the act to which despair had urged her; for shortly after she became
numbered amongst the sisterhood, some relative,
with thoughtless cruelty, conveyed to her the information that he whom she mourned as dead was
alive. The effect of this intelligence upon the mind
of the young nun was such as to drive her well nigh
mad. From feeling her suffering spirit soothed by
the seclusion in which she lived, by constant communion with the powers on high, the offices of religion became distasteful —the convent with its
silence, its repose, a prison-her cell, a dungeon and
a tomb. Wildly did she solicit freedom from those
with whom she was immured. The pale sisters
heard with horror and surprise the words which
issued from her lips. " Freedom, freedom! give me
freedom-without freedom I cannot live," was the
cry that, from morning to night, resounded in their
ears. What was it to her that she was told there
was wickedness in that cry-that by such a demand,
by the exhibition of such a rebellious spirit, she was
committing a terrible sin in the sight of God-that
she was but dooming herself to sorrow in this life,




RELIGION.               277
and to everlasting suffering in the next. To such
remonstrances she would not listen, much less heed.
Finding prayers and entreaties vain, and being
refused permission to communicate with her family
on the subject of her release, she resolved in her
frenzy to endeavor to obtain the boon she sought,
through the agency of hate and fear; and to make
herself so dreaded, so detested, that, for their own
sakes, the nuns would be glad to expel her from
their walls. Poor girl! as well might the imprisoned bird try to gain its liberty by beating against
the strong bars of its cage, as for her to win her
way to freedom by such means. She might rend,
she might break, she might tear up the nuns' favorite flowers, she might insult and maltreat them, and
hurl imprecations in their ears; but all she gained
by every act of this kind, was close confinement in
a darkened cell. At length, one day, having fortunately found access to writing materials, she wrote
a note-a short, frenzied note to her father, beseeching him  to visit her; and then, trusting to Providence to befriend her, she clandestinely threw this
note down from a high window of the convent that
looked out on the high road; having previously written on the cover of her note an entreaty that the
person into whose hands it might fall would send
it on to its destination with the utmost speed.
Little to be depended on as the success of such
an expedient must necessarily be, the father got his




278             LIFE IN TUSCANY.
daughter's letter, and in compliance with her entreaty hastened to her side; when, worked upon by
her frantic prayers, by the sight he witnessed of her
distracted mind, he promised to do what he could
towards the furtherance of her desires. From his
position, his rank, the father had no difficulty in
communicating on the subject with the Pope; and
having represented strongly the circumstances of
the case -the impulses of despair that had driven
the girl to take the religious vows, her subsequent
discovery of the falseness of the news by which she
had been impelled to the renunciation of a secular
life, the reaction of feeling that had since then set
in, her regrets, her cravings for liberty - all these
points strongly urged on the father's part, availed
so far as to obtain for the rebellious nun- not indeed a revocation of the vows of celibacy, but a
permission to change her residence from the convent
to her father's house.
The convent in which this incident occurred, was
in the neighborhood of Terracino, from which place
my informant came; and many a tale of sorrow
might perhaps be told, could one lift the veil that
hangs before the lives of the inmates of such outwardly peaceful sanctuaries. It would be wrong,
however, to imagine that discontent, unhappiness,
and regret, as an invariable rule, lurk under the
religious garb. I have seen faces beneath the shade
of the white, spotless lawn, which looked to me the




RELIGION.              279
very type of purity and peace; of a quiet conscience,
a mind that knew no shadow of regret, and a heart
weaned truly from the vanities of this world.
But, whatever be the number of purified hearts
and spiritualized minds that may be found within
the precincts of convent and monastery —though
every nun might be a saint, and every monk and.
friar the same -the existence of such institutions
must still be a source of deep regret to all who
think and feel that the very essence of Christianity
is active charity. Amidst the turmoils of a stormy
age, when the strong hand of power smote down
the weak, the convent and the monastery had many
claims to reverence and regard; for in them alone
the helpless of either sex could find a refuge from
wrong and violence: in them, too, was the torch
of knowledge kept alive during the long night of
ignorance that darkened over the land. But with
the change of times, with the substitution of the rule
of law for that of brutal might, and the diffusion
of knowledge everywhere, monastic establishments
as sanctuaries for youth and age, or as calm retreats
for the scholar and sage, have become utterly useless. On widely different grounds from those on
which they rested in former times, must they therefore now put forth their claims upon our sympathies.
Acts of charity and love, to extend a helping hand
to distressed and suffering fellow-creatures, being
the Christian's appointed duty, in conformity with




280            LIFE IN TUSCANY.
the teaching of the Gospel, the solitary recluse in
his narrow cell, shut out from all communion with
his kind, excluded from all opportunity of doing
them good, fails in the performance of the fundamental obligations of his creed: and failing thus,
however heavenward his thoughts may flow, deserves
more blame than praise. Like the servant who hid
his talent in the ground, he has turned to no profitable account one single gift of God with which
he was endowed. What answer can he give when
called to the great account? What hungry has he
fed? what naked has he clothed? what poor has
he relieved? what sick has he visited? what sorrowfull has he comforted? That he loved his soul
more ardently than his body he can show; but he
cannot bring forth a single proof as evidence that
he has cared for any one save himself.
But let justice be done. To deny our sympathy
to all the religious orders enrolled beneath the banners of the Roman Catholic Church would be unfair;
since at least one is to be found, the members of
which devote their lives to the fulfillment of the
great requirement of Christianity. It is pleasant to
turn from the inert inmate of the convent cell to her
who is truly termed, as her acts can prove, a Sister
of Charity. From bed to bed on which the sick lie
stretched, she glides with quiet step on her errand
of love and mercy. IHers is the self-appointed task
to watch beside the couch of pain, to cool the fever



RELIGION.               281
ed brow, to present the ever-welcome cup to the
parched lips, to adjust the pillows for the aching
head, to soothe the perturbed and terror-stricken
soul, and to close the glazed eyes of death. Patient,
enduring, untiring and unflagging in her zeal, she
is ready at every hour, by day or night, to respond
to the call of suffering. Through noisome streets,
through pestilential lanes, the abodes of poverty and
vice, she takes her way; she climbs the ladder to
the attic where the sufferer lies, or descending to
the cellar's damp-stained walls, she takes her seat
on the oozy floor, beside the bed of straw on which
lies stretched the victim of starvation or disease.
She braves contagion fearlessly, and undauntedly,
in the discharge of her mission; she enters the haunts
of crime, the prison cell, and the beggar's lair; the
hospital wards also know well the voice, the form
of the Sister of Charity. Surely no one can act
more fully the heroic part, or deserve more richly
the applause of man, than she who, uninfluenced
by hopes of fame, of a place in history or verse, consecrates the flower of her youth, the prime of her life,
to the relief of suffering humanity; and we, who reverence and applaud a Fry and Nightingale, should
not withhold our meed of praise from those whose
acts are in harmony with the deeds which have conferred honor and renown on the names of our two
noble countrywomen.




;2 02T9
CHAPTER X.
COMPAGNIA DELLA MISERICORDIA.*
F the many unfamiliar objects which
arrested my attention in the streets
of Florence, none excited so forcibly
my feelings of curiosity and surprise
as the sight of the members of the Brotherhood of the Misericordia.  Certainly the
garb adopted by this fraternity when on duty is one more likely to suggest the idea of
deeds of wickedness than acts of virtue; and when
they are first beheld, clothed in a long monastic
dress - a mass of black from head to foot — their
heads entirely enshrouded in close-fitting hoods, and
their eyes glaring out through two small apertures
in the black calico veil which hangs down loosely
before their faces -they present a sight calculated
to startle any individual afflicted with sensitive
* Brotherhood of Mercy.




COMPAGNIA DELLA MISERICORDIA.     283
nerves. Hideous, however, as is the dress, it yet
has the merit of fulfilling the olject for which it was
designed, as it shrouds completely the individual
by whom it is worn. Under the folds of that black
dress, and beneath the cappea, as the united mask
and hood are termed, a wife could not possibly
recognize her husband, a sister her brother, or a
mother her son, so perfect is the disguise.
The Society of the Misericordia is a time-honored
institution in Tuscany, and tradition dates its origin
in Florence from an early period of the thirteenth
century. According to the authority I now follow
on the subject, this institution owed its origin to the
humanity of a certain Pietro Borsi, a common porter,
who, with others of his profession, frequented the
Piazza San Giovanni for the purpose of hiring out
their services to the merchants of the town. Briskly, however, as commercial transactions were carried on in Florence at that time, the number of
porters was so much in excess of the number for
whom employment could be found, that the different
members of this fraternity had daily many unoccupied hours on their hands. Seeing this, and
thinking it a pity that so much time should be wasted unprofitably, it was proposed by Pietro Borsi,
and assented to by the rest, that a certain number
of their body should in turn take upon themselves
the duty of performing charitable offices towards
such sick and wounded of their fellow citizens as




284             LIFE IN TUSCANY.
might be in circumstances requiring aid.  The
scheme prospered under the direction of Borsi, and
the porters went through the different districts of
the city, carrying the sick and wounded on handlitters to such places as the sufferers might wish to
be transported.
The benevolent association thus set on foot by the
porters, soon included members of other callings in
its ranks, and it was further consolidated and extended in consequence of the great plague that
ravaged Florence in 1348. During those frightful
times, when the Angel of Death was knocking at
every door — when corpses strewed the streets, and
the busy, cheerful hum of life gave place to sighs,
groans, and the wailings of suffering and despair -
the Brothers of the Misericordia discharged their
onerous and perilous duties with a zeal and assiduity that won for them the protection of the authorities of the town.  For many years the society
flourished, and the wealth with which it became endowed from various sources, reached to a considerable amount; but under the influence of a misdirected religious zeal, the society was dissolved by a
decree of the Republic in 1425, in order that its
funds might go to increase the revenues of the Ospitalieri, a fraternity instituted to supply the wandering pilgrim with food and lodging on his road to
the Holy Sepulchre. The extinction of the society,
however, was a loss very sensibly felt in Florence,




COMPAGNIA DELLA MISERICORDIA.     285
on account of the accidents and sudden deaths that
frequently occurred; and the services of the Misericordia soon commenced to be very highly appreciated in the city, when events of daily occurrence
proved the advantages that had arisen, and the evils
that had been avoided, through the existence of an
organized charity to look after the sick amongst the
destitute classes of the community, and to secure
the decent interment of the dead.
An incident which happened in the year 1475,
was the means of restoring to Florence its highlyvalued fraternity. As a spirited and benevolent
citizen was one day walking through the town, he
saw, lying in the middle of a street, the corpse of
some poor friendless, destitute outcast of humanity.
Seized with indignation at this sight, the worthy
Florentine, raising up the corpse, placed it upon his
shoulders, and, laden thus, hurried off with his
strange burden to the Pallazzo della Signoria, where,
presenting himself, he demanded to speak with the
Gonfaloniere, the chief magistrate of Florence. The
demand was granted, and the Gonfaloniere having
appeared, his visitor lost no time in entering upon
the object of his mission. Pointing to the ghastly
burden he had borne, and recounting from whence
it had been taken, he described in strong and vivid
language the evil consequences that had arisen from
the suppression of the Brethren of the Misericordia.
The representations of the zealous citizen, enforced




286              LIFE IN TUSCANY.
as they were by the mute but forcible pleadings of
the dead, had an eminently successful issue; the
suppressed society was speedily re-established on its
former footing, and before very long, the influence
of its example spread to the neighboring cities. In
the many pestilences which ravaged the soil of Tuscany, during a space of four centuries, suffering humanity was comforted and relieved by the indefatigable zeal of the members of the Comipaynia della
Misericordia.
Various are the works of charity to which the
Florentine fraternity dedicate their time and revenues. At any hour at which their services may be
wanted, they transport patients to the hospital:
and to the sick amongst the destitute poor they furnish aid in money, linen, medicine and attendance.
The poor mother in her hour of suffering, whilst
herself a particular object of the society's care, is
indebted to them for the clothes with which she
covers her new born infant; the convalescent owes
to them the soups, and wine, and nourishing food,
by which his strength and energies of mind and
body are re-established. The case, in which rests
the fractured leg or arm of the poor laborer, or
needy artizan, is the donation of the fraternity;
bandages for wounds, leeches, cupping-glasses, baths
and medical appliances of every kind, all are supplied, as circumstances require, by this truly useful
and active charity.




COMPAGNIA DELLA MISERICORDIA.      287
Through the means of an excellent organization,
the services of the fraternity are available at any
moment. The members of the society, consisting
of all classes of the community, are divided into
sections, numbering about forty in each section;
and to every section is assigned in turn a certain
period, in which each member of its ranks must
hold himself in readiness-according to his vows,
taken generally for a limited period-to obey the
call of duty. At the sound of the loud tolling of
the great bell, the brother of the Misericordia, whose
appointed period of service has arrived, must hasten
to the place of rendezvous of his fraternity: it matters not at what hour, whether in broad mid-day or
in the dead of night, at morning's dawn or evening's dusk, he must instantly obey the summons.
The warm bed must be left in the cold night of winter, and the scorching heat of the mid-day sun must
be encountered in the height of summer; the rich
man must start up from the dinner-table around
which his guests are seated, the shopman must leave
his counter, the shoemaker must put down his awl,
the tailor his needle-each and all must, in accordance with the obligations entailed upon them by
their vows, hasten off without delay to perform various offices of charity for distressed and calamitystricken fellow creatures. Now the bell stmnmons to
convey a fever-struck patient to the hospital; then
it rings out for the same purpose in behalf of some




288             LIFE IN TUSCANY.
bricklayer or mason who may have suffered grievous
injuries by falling down from a high scaffold; at
one time it is for the resuscitation of some halfdrowned creature; at another, for succoring the inmates of a house on fire; and more commonly it is
for transporting a corpse to its last resting-place in
some neighboring church or cemetery. Various are
the functions to be performed and the duties to be
discharged, for which the bell of the great tower,
that once called the citizens to arms, now sends out
by day or night its mandatory summons to the
members of the Misericordia.
The manner in which the fraternity discharge the
offices of charity towards the sick is deserving of
particular description. As soon as that member of
the society to whose turn it comes to fulfill the office
of director —as soon as this head watch (capo guardia, as he is called), receives, a certificate from  a
medical man that a certain person, laboring under
disease, should be removed to the hospital-the customary signal is made, and at the sound of the summoning stroke, such members of the fraternity as
are at the time liable to be called out for duty hasten to their church, the appointed place of meeting.
This church, situated in the Piazza del Duomoformerly the Piazza San Giovanni-is almost as ancient as the community to which it belongs. It is
said to stand on the margin of the gulf which was
dug to receive the numerous victims of the pesti



COMPAGNIA DELLA MISERICORDIA.      289
lence of 1348. On the altar, a few tapers burn night
and clay, continually, whilst six members of the
order keep watch in the sanctuary. On the walls
are hung the dresses of the community, as well as
the torches which are made use of at night and in
funeral solemnities; and along the floor are ranged
biers and litters for conveying the sick and dead to
their respective destinations. Hitherto, this church,
whose pavement is never trod by any foot but that
of a member of the fraternity, the summoned brothers of the Misericordia repair, to receive and execute the orders given to them by their capo guardia.
Enveloped in the black vestments of their order,
the members of the Misericordia issue from their
church, marching two by two, preceded by what
may be termed a marshal (bidello), and by four
brothers bearing a litter on their shoulders. This
litter is adapted with great forethought to every exigency of the service in which it is used. On a
framework of wood, spanned by girths from side to
side, lie the ordinary appurtenances of a bed; the
mattress is always as soft a one as can be found;
the sheets are ever clean and white; the blanket
either heavy or light, according to to the requirements
of the season; and the pillow, by an ingenious contrivance, can be made to take the particular slant
desired. A light low arching canopy, composed of
fine iron wire, over which is extended a quilt, or, if
occasion needs, a waterproof covering, serves as a
19




290             LIFE IN TUSCANY.
protection against the weather for the occupant of
the bed. To the lower part of the litter torches are
fastened, in case night should overtake the brotherhood whilst discharging the offices of charity to the
sick without the city walls; for, to a circuit of three
miles, measured from the centre of the town, extend
the self-imposed duties of the fraternity. Besides
the torches, the lower part of the litter contains a
box, in which is to be found everything that the sick
might desire or need during transportation to the
hospital-water, wine, lemon, sugar, vinegar, hartshorn-all are in readiness for service when required.
Provision is even made for the performance of the
last rites of the Roman Catholic Church in case any
occupant of the litter may be placed in a position to
require them: for in the same box with the restoratives is found the Holy Oil, with which the dying
may be anointed.
Arrived at their destination, the litter is deposited
on the ground, and the brothers, entering the sick
chamber, prepare to effect the removal of the patient
in a most tender and considerate manner; by means
of a long, thin, smooth piece of bone, four strong
strips of linen are quickly and easily inserted below
the sick man's body, at short intervals, from underneath his shoulders downwards. At a sign from
the capo guardia, the brothers, who each hold an end
of the several strips, raise up the patient sufficiently
high to allow a quilt, which is held ready by other




COMPAGNIA DELLA MISERICORDIA.     291
members of the society, to be extended beneath.
The sick man is gently lowered again, so as to rest
upon the quilt, and conveyed in it slowly and carefully to the litter wherein he is deposited; the greatest care being taken that he should be placed in a
position of the utmost possible ease. The bedclothes adjusted, and the protecting covering properly fixed, the object of the fraternity's solicitude is
borne upon the shoulders of the brethren to the hospital; two of the number walking, one at either side
of the litter, on the watch to see if the sick man has
need of anything on the way.
The transportation, however, of the sick to hospitals forms but a small part of the self-imposed obligations undertaken towards that class by the brethren of the Misericordia. To every district of the
city is assigned a certain number of individuals belonging to. the order, who, taking their name from
the functions they fulfill, are termed Convisitatori.
Acting singly, each on his own judgment and responsibility, the Convisitatore is bound to see that
all the sick people committed to his care are well
provided with everything they may stand in need
of, in regard to linen, nourishment, baths and medicine. To him, also, is committed the duty of furnishing the sick with nightly attendance, if such
should be requisite; and it is on his attestation to
the fact, joined to the certificate of a doctor to the




292              LIFE IN TUSCANY.
same effect, that a nightly watcher from the ranks
of the society is supplied.
Thus, not only do the fraternity transport the sick
to hospitals, and look after the wants of that helpless class in their own homes, but they leave their
comfortable, perhaps luxurious abodes, to watch
during the night in cheerless dwellings, by the bedside of the suffering poor. This service is discharged by one member of the company, on ordinary
occasions; but by two, if the disease be of an aggravated character, and danger to life is feared. In
case it may be a woman who requires assistance of
this kind, the night watcher also is a female, (for
several individuals of that sex are included in the
ranks of the Misericordia); but if the sick woman
be dangerously ill, a brother of the order comes to
the sister's aid. Nor are the benevolent operations
of the society entirely restricted to the destitute poor,
as far as nightly attendance is concerned; for not
unfrequently in the dwellings of the upper classes
the pillows of the sick are adjusted by the hands of
members of the Misericordia: and in all such cases,
however humble the renderer, and however rich the
recipient of such services may be, the nightly
watcher is not permitted to receive the smallest
thing, either food, or drink, or money, from the
family served, under the penalty of a sudden and
ignominious expulsion from the ranks of the society
to which he or she belongs. In order to ascertain




COMPAGNIA DELLA MISERICORDIA.     293
if the sick are tended with due care and zeal, inspectors and sub-inspectors go out nightly from the ranks
of the society to visit- those dwellings of the poor
to which the night watcher has been sent.
Amongst the various benevolent acts of the fraternity deserving of special notice, are the offices of
charity they perform towards imprisoned criminals.
Theirs is the self-appointed task of visiting the goals,
and of seeing that every regulation connected with
the salubrity of these abodes is duly attended to.
The food provided for the prisoners comes under
their inspection, and not unfrequently clothes and
linen are supplied by them to those who, by a long,
weary term of exile from the world, are expiating
past crimes or misdemeanors. Under the sanction
of the Government authorities, they also take measures to provide that class of criminals with the
means of profitable employment; and, deducting
only the prime cost of the various articles supplied,
they leave to the worker the full value of his work.
On certain occasions, such as the great religious festivals of the Church at Christmas, Easter, Quinquagesima, Pentecost, and Ascension Day, the inmates
of the prison are provided with a feast at the expense of the fraternity. The conveyance of this
feast forms also a portion of the duty of the brotherhood; and at the periods above mentioned, a troop
of black-robed brethren may be seen issuing from
the head-quarters of the company, walking two and




294             LIFE IN TUSCANY.
two, each couple bearing between them a large basket
filled with provisions of excellent description, covered over with branches of myrtle and laurel. Arrived at the prison-door, the baskets are deposited
on the ground and speedily emptied of their contents; each brother taking a dish and carrying it
with his own hands to the prisoner's cell. Who can
doubt the good effects exerted on the prisoner's mind
by each and every benevolent act of which he is the
object, on the part of this charitable association?
The hearts of the most abased of human kind still
vibrate to the touch of kindness and sympathy:
gratitude is a powerful moral agent, a purifier of
the mind, a softener of the heart. Could the inner
life of the inmates of a Florentine prison be unfolded to the view, it is more than probable we should
find that many a virtuous resolve, or many a kindly
feeling, has owed its origin to the little myrtle-covered dish presented by the hand of a Brother of the
Misericordia.
The interment of the dead forms a very important
part of the functions of the society; and the company
charges itself especially with the duty of carrying
to the grave the corpse of any poor friendless stranger whom death has struck down in some humble
lodging or tavern. But though such unfortunates
commend themselves particularly to the sympathies
of the society, the burial charities of the brotherhood are far from being restricted to this class; for




COMPAGNIA DELLA MISERICORDIA.    295
funeral rites are performed by them for those that
die in their own homes and amongst their kindred,
in every instance in which the family of the deceased
is too poor to provide the means of decent intermnent for their dead. For such, as well as for other
occasions on which the services of the fraternity are
needed, the bell rings out its summoning peal; and
at that sound, the members whose period of active
duty has arrived, hasten to obey the call, generally
issued for this particular purpose at half an hour before sunset; and, marching in files of two and two,
they bear the bier with its lifeless burden to the
place of sepulcher, after having previously assisted
at the performance of the customary funeral rites in
the church.
On the occasion of the death of any distinguished
member of the order, the society assembles in great
numbers to accompany the departed brother to his
grave. During my residence in Florence I was witness of a funeral of the society conducted on a scale
of imposing magnitude; the Misericordia having to
lament the loss of one of its members in the person
of the Bishop of Fiesole, who had been suddenly
stricken down in the midst of health by a stroke of
apoplexy. From the house where the dead bishop
had lain in state, dressed out in his episcopal robes,
the lifeless body was removed by the black-hoodecl
brethren, and, elevated upon a bier, was borne by
them to its last resting-place at Fiesole. The pro



296              LIFE IN TUSCANY.
cession was a very imposing sight, seen from the elevation of the steps in front of the cathedral, before
which passed the funeral array. In vivid contrast
with the shifting, stirring crowd, and the many forms
of animated life with which the piazza of the cathedral was densely filled, was the motionless figure of
the dead ecclesiastic, as with face uncovered, and
decked out with all the insignia of his mortal dignities, he was borne aloft, extended on a bier, upon the
shoulders of a certain number of the fraternity.
The rigid features of the deceased ecclesiastic, and
his recumbent form, dressed out in all the pomp
of ecclesiastical vestments, the chanting priests,
the flaring of countless torches, and the long train
of black-hooded brethren that filed along through
the midst of the bustling throng, formed, altogether,
a picture of a very impressive character.
A charity of an essentially Italian character remains yet to be enumerated amongst the philanthropic acts of the Compagnia della Misericordia.
It is provocative of a smile to find that young portionless girls are reckoned amongst the class of unfortunates requiring assistance from the funds of the
charitable society. The hapless case of the undowered maiden who, for want of the heart-subjugating
power of money to forge the nuptial bonds, is
doomed to a life of single blessedness, appeals strongly, it would seem, to the sympathies of the Misericordia; for, on one particular day in every year, mar



COMPAGNIA DELLA MISERICORDIA.       297
riage portions are distributed, with edifying solemnity, to various girls belonging to the lower classes
of the community. It is to be hoped that the money*
thus bestowed really benefits the recipients, and that
the commodities purchased by such means do credit,
in some instances, to the purchaser's sense and discrimination; but, as Italian girls generally select
their lovers on a principle far different from  that
which actuated the Vicar of Wakefield's wife in
the choice of her wedding-gown, this hope is of a
very doubtful realization.
The source from  which the Misericordia derives
the greatest portion of their revenues is from begging: la questua, as it is termed. This questua is
made once a week by ten brothers of the order, who,
dividing the town between them into so many parts,
take each his way through his allotted district to
seek for alms. Attired in the black dress of the fraternity, and shrouded in its impenetrable disguise,
the questuantte may be seen at an early hour of the
day pursuing his mission through the streets of Florence, with a begging-box in his hand. In ghostly
silence he carries on his work, the only mode of solicitation used being the presentation of his beggingbox to the passer-by, accompanied by the appealing
gaze of eyes, that peer through two small apertures
in the black mask he wears. Into every shop the
* The amount of the girl's portion, though not received by her until
the wedding-day, is known beforehand.




298             LIFE IN TUSCANY.
questuante has free access; for him the doors of public offices and monasteries unclose; into his box drop
the silver of the rich and the copper of the poor:
the quattrini of the working-man mingle with the
paoli of the noble. Where the palace rears its proud
front on high, or where the dark, damp cellar gives
shelter from the midnight air to poor wretches of
either sex and of every age, in streets where wealth
parades its silken robes, or in noisome lanes where
poverty shows its rags, the black-shrouded form of
the begging brother of the Misericordia may be seen.
Seldom does the begging-box remain unfilled, for
rarely does either avarice or poverty refuse to the
questuante the small coin he seeks. On the evening
of the day on which the questua is made, the ten
questuante meet together in the rooms of the director of the society, and, each box being opened and
its contents examined, the amount obtained is duly
registered and transferred to the general funds of
the community.
Besides the regular weekly questua, there are other
collections made occasionally, for particular purposes; at one time, money is required for the sufferers in some public or private calamity; at another,
it is wanted to give relief to the poor family on
whom some great calamity has fallen unexpectedly:
now, the collection is taken for prisoners; and,
again, for procuring masses to be said for the benefit of some suffering soul in purgatory.
VII V UI-I-Vhll~I~ID  VV~ LIIJUL~VLn 




COMPAGNIA DELLA MISERICORDIA.      299
In addition to the contributions raised by the
means described, the funds of the society are sustained by a small annual tax imposed upon the
members of the fraternity.  This tax, varying
within certain limits at the pleasure of the contributor, can never be less than one paolo (5~d.), or
exceed five of that coin. On the holiday of their
patron saint, or during the course of the eight following clays, the pecuniary obligations of the members of the Misericordia are annually discharged.
I have entered into the foregoing account of the
history and proceedings of this charitable society,
not only from the intrinsic interest of the subject,
but on account of the estimation in which the Compagnia della Misericordia is held in Tuscany. Before
a procession of the black-robed brethren, the crowd
respectfully open and give way, whilst every hat, from
the noble's to the beggar's, is reverentially raised as
they go by; and as each man bares his head, he
knows not but that he uncovers in the presence of
the Grand Duke himself, or some of his family: for
not unfrequently the highest in the land has donned
the garb of the Misericordia for a stated period,
either from a motive of a penitential kind, or from
one of a purely philanthropic nature.
But if to make atonement for evil done and for
wrongs committed, be the motive which chiefly
swells the ranks of the Misericordia in Tuscanyif in general the impelling impulse to take the vows
I~L  IL~ ~-LJ~~-M'   VL~L  IL~LlrVI~t)




300              LIFE IN TUSCANY.
be remorse of conscience-who would not prefer
the acts of self-mortification of the Misericordia
penitent, to those of any contrite sinner shut up in
the seclusion of monastic walls? Far beyond the
merits of sighs, and tears, and fastings, and penitential psalms, surely are the lone midnight watchings by the sufferer's bed, the cup presented for the
parched lips to drink, the pillow adjusted for the
aching head, the visit to the prisoner's cell, the gift
by which the pangs of cold and hunger are relieved,
the prompt answer to the summoning peal which
calls, perhaps, from the chamber of mirth and feasting to the cheerless home of poverty or death. A
truly noble institution is the Misericordia, one that
reflects credit on the nation amongst whom it is
found.
IItel-/h 96; 9




CHAPTER XI.
GALILEO AND MICHAEL ANGELO.
Y the remembrances which its name
invokes, Florence powerfully commends itself to the sympathies of
every cultivated mind. Distinguished in war, in power, in industry, and, above
all, in literature and art, Florence shines out
in the prevailing darkness of the medieval
times with a lustre peculiarly brilliant. The
woollen stuffs, the gold and silk brocades, the produce of Florentine looms, were prized, renowned,
and sought for throughout the western world; and
to Florence especially belongs the merit of making
the merchant's an honored name, and of raising the
industrial arts to dignity and esteem. Of all the
republics of Italy to which the Middle Ages gave
birth, Florence was the one in which the love of
liberty was the strongest, the cultivation of the in



302            LIFE IN TUSCANY.
tellect the greatest, and the laws the best framed
and the best administered. Noted for the genius of
its citizens, and the intelligence of its people, to
Florence belongs the glory of having given to the
world, during the Middle Ages, a greater number
of illustrious men than all the rest of Italy was able
to send forth. Whilst the darkness of barbarism
still hung densely over the British Isles, while
knowledge there could find no resting-place save in
the monastic cell, and art and artists there were
terms almost unknown, the poet, painter, sculptor
and scholar, daily met together, as honored, cherished guests at the rich and noble Florentine's board.
But amongst the many sons of Florence who shed
honor on that republic in bygone days, there are
none who have left behind them names so well deserving of our respect and homage as Galileo and
Michael Angelo: the first, astronomer and philosopher combined -the teacher of great truths to an
incredulous world; the latter, an artist whose works
in painting, sculpture and architecture occupy a
foremost position in the domain of art.
Florence is full of the memorials of her two great
sons; and in Pisa, where Galileo lived for several
years as teacher of philosophy in the university
there, his memory is indissolubly associated with
the far-famed Cathedral and Leaning Tower of that
city. Their very stones are eloquent to us of him,




GALILEO AND MICHAEL ANGELO.       303
for with both these structures are connected incidents of no small moment in his history.
To the philosophic mincd, trifles are often fraught
with teachings of wisdom. The swinging of a large
bronze lamp suspended from the roof of the Cathedral at Pisa was apparently an incident of the most
trivial description, but to Galileo that sight evoked
a train of thought which resulted in the discovery
of the theory of the pendulum. Hanging yet where
it hung in the days of that great man, that lamp
can never be looked on without interest: perhaps,
too, this interest is heightened by the accessories of
the surrounding scene. For very beautiful is the
interior of the Cathedral of Pisa, seen, as I have
seen it, when the bright beams of a midday sun,
streaming through richly colored windows, illuminated the nave with its rows of splendid columns,
lit up the richly carved and gilt panels of the roof,
the age-dimmed pictures, and the decorated altars.
But still more beautiful was it in the evening hour,
when the long aisles seemed to lengthen out, and
the lofty columns to grow more lofty in the twilight
gloom; when here and there, from  the distant
chapel, the taper shot forth its small starry gleam,
and all details of arches, columns, altars, pictures,
sculptures and carving lost to view, the soul was
inly touched by the solemn influences of vastness,
silence and solitude.
Still more suggestive of Galileo than the Cathe



304            LIFE IN TUSCANY.
dral is the far-famed Leaning Tower adjoining it;
for here it was that he proved by a simple experiment that the doctrines of Aristotle, which he had
been appointed, to teach in the university of Pisa,
were fundamentally wrong.  Denounced by his
brother professors as an ignorant pretender in the
school of philosophy, as the defamer of an illustrious
and unerring sage and the disseminator of untruths,
Galileo eagerly called out, "Bring my doctrines to
the test of experiment, and by this prove whether
Aristotle's theory or mine in regard to the law of
falling bodies, is true." The challenge was accepted,
and the Leaning Tower of Pisa was selected as the
place where the demonstration was to be made.
Let us bring up the past before our view, and see
assembled round that wonderful Leaning Tower,
grave professors and solemn sages, who have come,
confident of triumphing in the approaching discomfiture of an ignorant pretender in the paths of science
and philosophy. Around them cluster an eager
crowd, looking with curiosity at that obscure young
man; who, though alone and friendless, the object
of reproach and scorn, yet strong in the power of
truth, stands up before them with sparkling eye and
undaunted bearing.
The experiment is to be made by means of two
balls, one of which is twice as heavy as the other.
If Aristotle be right in his theory of the velocity of
falling bodies, the heavy ball, when dropped from




GALILEO AND MICHAEL ANGELO.      305
the summit of the tower, should reach the ground
in exactly half the time taken by the lighter ball to
pass through the same space, both being dropped at
the same time. If Galileo be right, the two balls
should not differ one instant in the rate of their respective descents. Nothing can be simpler than the
experiment, and nothing more clearly and easily ascertainable than its result.
The moment comes when the issue is to be determined, and at a given signal, down drop the balls
fiom the tower: they strike upon the earth in the
same moment of time. A proud moment was it for
that young sage, and exulting was the look he cast
on the discomfited philosophers. Again and again
the experiment was repeated, with the same uniform
results; and from that day Aristotle lost the sway
that he had exercised for centuries over the human
mind.
But the pioneer of knowledge, the discoverer of
truths, needs a brave heart to sustain him in his
battle against error and ignorance in this world;
and no one more than Galileo required the endowments of a daring spirit and unflinching mind.
Through his whole life he had to contend with determined incredulity, and with ignorance that pertinaciously refused to be enlightened. " Oh, my
dear Kepler," writes Galileo to his friend, "how I
wish we could have one hearty laugh together.
Here at Padua is the principal professor of philoso20




306            LIFE IN TUSCANY.
phy, whom I have repeatedly and urgently requested
to look at the moon and planets through my glass,
which he pertinaciously refuses to do! " Unhappily
for Galileo's lot in life, the Paduan philosopher was
only a fair sample of the pseudo-scientific sages of
his day.
But bravely as Galileo bore himself, for the greatest part of his long life, in a continuous contest with
error and bigoted ignorance, he was in his old age
guilty of an act of cowardice that has left a deep
stain upon his memory. Who does not grieve at
the thought of that old man on his bended knees,
before the Cardinals of the Roman Church, swearing that he abjured, cursed and detested as erroneous and heretical, the doctrine he had held and
taught, that the earth moved round the sun; whilst
in his heart he knew that the words he spoke with
his hand on the Holy Gospel were utterly untrue?
for, on rising up from his humiliating act and attitude, he turned and said to some one near, "Bf pur
se muove, —" For all this, it moves."  Still, recalling'
to mind the dreadful torture of the rack, to which
the aged philosopher was subjected ere he publicly
abjured his belief in the great and eternal truths
he had proclaimed, we must not judge him hardly
for this deed.
Florence warmly cherishes the name and memory
of the great astronomer, and exhibits to this day
many memorials of him. Attached to the Museum




GALILEO AND MICHAEL ANGELO.      307
is a temple erected by the present Grand Duke to
Galileo, and here may be seen the telescope which
revealed to him the satellites of Jupiter. The Observatory where most of his observations on the
moon were made, still exists; and the stranger is
shown the residence where, blind, infirm, and weighed down by years and humiliation, his vexed and
suffering spirit passed away.
But Florence possesses a still more touching memento of her great son than any of those described.
In the church of Santa Croce, the stranger's step is
arrested by the tomb that bears Galileo's name;
and insensible is the heart that does not do homage
to the illustrious dead- a teacher of truths which
can never die, and who by years of obloquy and
persecution, by imprisonment, torture, and a shattered frame, paid a heavy penalty for the distinction he enjoyed of being the greatest genius of
his age.
But, however we may be disposed to compassionate the sufferings of Galileo, and great men like him,
our pity for the hardships and trials of their lots in
life is probably in most instances misplaced. Outwardly unfortunate as his career may be, the man
of genius bears that within his mind which probably
far more than compensates him for the hardships
he endures. The lonely study, wherein the midnight lamp burns on through the changing year, is
the scene, perhaps, at times of joy more intense, of




308            LIFE IN TUSCANY.
triumph more perfect than any which the world -
through the means of wealth, rank, power and distinction — can offer to the common herd of men.
Glorious must be the moment when the long soughtfor truth flashes vividly across the deeply meditating mind, and the "Eureka" of every inquiring
sage on whom the day-star of discovery dawns, must
be fraught with the most exquisite happiness. And
though such moments in the lifetime of even the
most gifted student must be rare, there is for him
a constant source of enjoyment in the exulting sense
of power which accompanies the exercise of the
higher faculties of his mind. Withal then, exposed
as the great astronomer was through his long life,
to calumny and reproach-though a torture-forced
recantation of the truth escaped his aged lips-yet
in the grand triumphs of his intellect, in the proud
consciousness that was his, of having given forth
truths which the world would not let die, the life
and lot of Galileo stand forth before our gaze as
deserving not of pity, but of envy.
In Santa Croce, also, lie the mortal remains of
Michael Angelo. His tomb is one of the first that
meets the eye on entering the church; and it is said
that before his death he chose that particular spot
of sepulture for himself, for the whimsical reason
that when the doors were open he might, even in
his grave, as he said, be able to see the Cathedral's
towering dome; of which his admiration was so




GALILEO AND MICHAEL ANGELO.      309
great that he took it as a model for the construction
of the cupola of St. Peter's. A fine and noble nature was that of Michael Angelo. Amidst an age
of general moral corruption and laxity of principle,
his life, by its unsullied purity and its unblemished
integrity, stands out in brilliant contrast with the
lives of most of his cotemporaries, and challenges
our respect.and admiration. An ardent patriot, he
threw aside his brush and chisel to join the ranks
of those who strove to save the independence of his
native soil; and on the battlements of Florence he
proved that Italy's greatest architect, painter and
sculptor, had qualities that might well confer on him
the title of being one of her greatest heroes also.
The memorials of Michael Angelo in Florence
are numerous; for in its churches, its palaces, and
its public squares, we are brought face to face with
the mighty creations of his genius. And yet, with
all their excellencies so universally acknowledged,
and with all the homage now paid to that mind
which gave them birth, Michael Angelo, in his early
days, had to contend against that detraction and
envy which denounced his noble works as things of
little worth. An amusing incident is recorded, in
connection with this subject, of the means he took
to heap confusion on his adversaries, by proving
that their disparaging criticisms were founded on
prejudice, and not on truth or justice.
In the seclusion of his studio, with a secrecy he




810            LIFE IN TUSCANY.
took care no one should penetrate, Michael Angelo
sculptured the marble group of a Faun and Bacchus.
The work being completed, he broke off the right
hand a little above the wrist, and laying it carefully
aside, he conveyed the mutilated figure to a hole
previously excavated in the ground, and there buried
it. After the lapse of some little time, judging that
the damp earth would then have conferred upon his
work a decidedly venerable appearance, he ordered
workmen to make certain alterations in the grounds;
which would, he knew, lead necessarily to the discovery of the buried piece of statuary. The event
answered his expectations: the mutilated statue was
found; and as Michael Angelo took care that this
great discovery should be at once noised abroad
through the city, his bitterest critics rushed to the
spot; and on the earth being cleared from about
the figures of the Faun and Bacchus, they speedily
pronounced the group to be an antique of the finest
description; warmly congratulating themselves on
the fact that of this masterpiece of antiquity only
one hand was missing. Amongst the group that
surrounded the statue, eagerly engaged in enlarging
on the beauties of the work, stood Michael Angelo,
who gave but a very faint assent to the general encomiums it called forth; and on being pointedly
asked his opinion on the subject, he replied, in a
careless, disparaging way, it was a pretty thing
enough. "Oh, doubtless you can make as good a




GALILEO AND MICHAEL ANGELO.      311
statue yourself," was the reply, uttered in a satirical
tone: and Michael Angelo, continuing the conversation in a strain which led on his adversaries to say
all that he could wish, suddenly startled them by
the question-" What will you say if I made this?"
To the idea thus suggested, smiles of incredulity
and derisive laughter were the response; in the
midst of which, begging their patience for a little
while, Michael Angelo went to his house, and speedily brought back with him, as evidence of the truth
of his words, the hand which he had broken off;
and it was found, to the confusion and discomfiture
of his antagonists, to correspond exactly with the
mutilated arm of the newly-discovered Bacchus.
This memorial of the triumph of Michael Angelo
occupies a conspicuous position in the Gallery of the
Uffizi at Florence; the seam which marks the place
where the arm was fractured being very distinctly
visible.
Michael Angelo himself was far from being niggardly of praise of the artistic productions of his
immediate predecessors or cotemporaries. " Meglio
di te non posso," (better than thee I cannot make,)
he exclaimed, in reference to the great cathedral
dome of Brunelleschi in Florence.  In a similar
spirit he stopped before the statue of St. Mark by
Donato, and exclaimed, in allusion to its life-like
expression, " Mark, why don't you speak to me?"
Of the bronze gates, the masterpiece of Ghiberti, he




312            LIFE IN TUSCANY.
said-" They are so beautiful, that they are worthy
of being the gates of Paradise." On seeing the
medals of Caesari, he declared, "Art has reached
its last hour, for beyond this it cannot go;" and on
looking at Bigarini's fine statues in terracotta, he
exclaimed, "Woe to the antique statues, if these
should become marble!"
In the same house where Michael Angelo lived in
Florence, some descendants of his family still live
at the present day; much of the furniture remains
in its original position, unchanged, and many personal relies of the great sculptor and painter are
there to be found. His sword, his crutch-handled
walking-sticks, his slippers, and the table at which
he used to write, challenge the stranger's notice;
whilst some of his vigorous sketches adorn the walls
of the various apartments, which have been fitted
up in a style to do honor to his memory. Right is
it, indeed, that in Florence, his native town, and for
whose independence he vainly fought, every memento of him should be preserved and venerated.
"I commend my soul to God, my body to the
earth, and my property to my nearest of kin," were
the terms of his last will and testament, dictated by
him on his death-bed. He breathed his last in Rome,
on February 17th, 1563, within a fortnight of entering on his ninetieth year; and his remains were, at
his express desire, conveyed to Florence, where they
were buried, with every circumstance of pomp and
solemnity, in the church of Santa Croce.




CHAPTER XII.
THE LATE REVOLUTION.
LTHOUGH  the events which took
place in Paris on the 24th of February, 1848, exercised an immense influence on Italy as well as on other
European States, the revolutionary era commenced in the Peninsula considerably before
that time. At Rome, in the year 1846, when
Pius the Ninth was at the height of his popularity, amidst the shouts which resounded of "Viva Pio IX," there was voices heard to say, " Abbasso
il Pontefice! " *  Under the triumphal arches that
were raised to the reforming Pope, the progress of
the carriages belonging to prelates forming part of
his cortege, was impeded, or stopped; and returning from St. Peter's, he was often followed by bands
of students from the university, demanding, with
loud voices, their political rights.
* "' Dowu with the Pontiff."




814            LIFE IN TUSCANY.
At this period, Florence began to show symptoms
of the same spirit of disquiet that prevailed at Rome.
Public demonstrations were made which had for
their avowed object the acquisition of a civic guard
and the liberty of the press. In the middle of January the people of Leghorn, with Guerrazzi for their
leader, rose in arms. The rebellion was repressed;
and in the fortress of Porto Ferrajo the imprisoned
chief had ample leisure for meditation over his defeated plans.
In 1847 fresh disturbances occurred. The whole
of Italy was agitated in every part; throughout the
Peninsula there were symptoms that a storm of no
ordinary violence was about to break forth. Day
by day the clouds grew darker overhead; and popular tumults, like premonitory gusts, gave evidence
that a great conflict between the opposing forces of
power and numbers was nigh at hand. Bologna
and Ferrara demanded and obtained a civic guard.
The same demand was echoed at Rome with clamorous cries; and by a papal decree issued on the 5th
of July, the privilege of forming a national guard
was conferred not only on Rome, but on every city
in the States of the Church. Tumults commenced
at Naples; Sicily and Calabria were stirred with
the first throes of popular discontent; and Genoa
also. From north to south, Italy was a smouldering
volcano.
The eventful year of 1848 was ushered in by a




THE LATE REVOLUTION.         315
revolution at Palermo. Sicily declared itself independent; and Ferdinand II found the fairest portion
of his dominions wrenched away violently from his
grasp. Naples rose up in arms to demand a constitution, which was granted through the influence of
fear. The commencement of February was signalized by commotions at Turin; and, following the
prevailing example, Tuscany extorted from its intimidated ruler, on the 18th of February, the concession
of political rights.
The revolution of the 24th of February, in Paris,
acted on the impulsive Italians as a strong blast on
a glowing flame. Milan, after five days' desperate
fighting, threw off the Austrian yoke. Charles II,
Duke of Lucca, found himself constrained to fly
from his dominions to save his life. Venice, on the
22d of March, declared itself a republic; and in a
few months afterwards, in the ancient capital of the
Caesars, amidst the joyous shouts of thousands, a
similar form of government was proclaimed.
Yielding to the spirit of the times, the Grand
Duke of Tuscany ceded to his subjects a constitution, which was, for the most part, founded on the
model of that of France. This concession was followed by an amnesty, in right of which Guerrazzi
issued forth from the fortress of Porto Ferrajo to
play his part in the great political drama; in the
first act of which he had lost his liberty and periled
his life. Of unbounded ambition, of distinguished




316            LIFE IN TUSCANY.
talents, orator and author, he was a man certain to
occupy the foremost place upon the public stage, in
troubled times. His release was hailed with acclamation, and his return to Florence was greeted as a
triumph to the liberal cause. The current of popular enthusiasm in his favor ran high and strong.
Three separate constituencies chose him for their
representative, when, under the new constitution,
the election for the Chamber of Deputies began.
Amongst his colleagues, there was no one but Montanelli who seemed in a position to dispute with him
the post of chief.
In the month of September, the people of Leghorn
once more rose up in arms; this time with the view
of casting off the supremacy of Tuscany, and of
raising their town to the dignity of an independent
State. A serious conflict seemed at hand; for, with
the view of reducing his rebellious subjects to submission, the Grand Duke repaired to the camp of
Pisa, where was assembled a numerous portion of
the national guard. But after some days of warlike
preparation on either side, the opposing parties
showed a disposition to avert the effusion of blood
by coming to terms; the insurgents abating their
high pretensions, demanded that Montanelli should
be appointed to the post of Governor of Leghorn.
This demand was granted by the Grand Duke, on
the faith (it is alleged) of Montanelli's plighted word
to do his utmost to restore order and peace. If such




THE LATE REVOLUTION.          317
a pledge was given, it was badly kept by Montanelli; for his words and acts were ill-calculated to
calm down the excitement of the popular mind.
From his balcony in the public square of Leghorn,
he harangued the people in favor of an Italian constitution, the plan of which he had drawn up. Little as it may be supposed the Grand Duke approved
of the newly elected Governor's proceedings, he was
not, or did not feel himself in a position to cancel
the appointment made. Destitute of that firmness
of character which is so essential for a ruler to possess in critical times, his deficiency in this particular
was not supplied by the advisers whom he called to
his side. Frightened at the aspect of affairs, Gino
Capponi, the president of the Tuscan Cabinet, resigned; and an unsuccessful attempt to form another
Ministry, under another head, was followed by the
hazardous step of devolving this task on the democratic Governor of Leghorn. Accepting with alacrity the offered post, Montanelli called on Guerrazzi
to aid him in his work. The Chamber of Deputies,
which had given a strong support to the late Ministry, was dissolved; and in all the posts vacated
by the Duke's adherents, supporters of the revolutionary cause were placed. The Ducal rule was virtually at an end. Impelled by fear, and coerced by
pressure from without, Leopold allowed the reins of
government to slip from his trembling hands; and
it was easy to perceive that it required but a slight,




318            LIFE IN TUSCANY.
collision to hurl him from the seat he so insecurely
maintained.
On the 9th January, 1849, the Representative
Chambers of Tuscany were opened in person by
the Grand Duke. The session commenced with
clamor and dissension; the echo as it were, of the
voices that prevailed outside. The discussion that
ensued on the draft of the " Italian Constitution,"
submitted to the Chambers for approval by Montanelli, grew violent in the extreme. A strong party
arrayed itself in opposition to the creation of the
federal power which Montanelli proposed; but a
powerful party out of doors gave a clamorous support to the Minister's plan. The populace and the
journals were on his side; and, yielding to the democratic voice, the Italian Constitution received the
assent of the Legislative Assembly.
This triumph, however, was far from allaying the
fevered spirit of excitement which prevailed out of
doors. Day by day, disorder and disturbances increased in Florence. With difficulty could Guerrazzi restrain within bounds the revolutionary club
of which he was the chief. Drunk with the excitement which a startling series of events and a newborn consciousness of power are so likely to produce
in minds unused to reason and reflect, new grievances, new demands, speedily took the place of
those to which concession had put an end yesterday.
The revolution, not only in Tuscany but in all Italy,




THE LATE REVOLUTION.         319
came to be looked upon in the light of a drama
enacted upon the stage: and a paucity of events, or
a slight delay between the acts, gave birth to cries
of impatience and discontent. "Onward-onward!"
was the cry; and those who, from their talents or
position, might have possessed the power to check
the headlong progress of democratic violence and
unrest, allowed themselves to be swept onward with
the stream.
Renewed disturbances took place at Leghorn;
the populace of that town clamorously demanding
that a Republic should be at once proclaimed. The
Governor, appointed by Montanelli, openly declared
his sympathy with the popular views. On the last
day of January there ran a rumor through the
streets of Florence, that the Leghornese were on the
eve of marching on the Tuscan capital, in arms.
Penetrating to the recesses of the Pitti Palace, that
rumor, fraught as it was with scenes of approaching
violence and bloodshed, determined the Duke to
withdraw himself from the peril he was powerless
to avert. His family had some months previously
retired to Sienna; and thither now, with haste and
secrecy, Leopold repaired.
The fugitive monarch was welcomed with enthusiasm by the Siennese. In place of the tricolored
insignia of revolution, the white and red flag of
Tuscany was publicly displayed; cheers for the
Grand Duke resounded through the streets, and




320             LIFE IN TUSCANY.
clamorous demonstrations of attachment, in words
and acts, were unmingled by revolutionary cries.
The republicans of Florence, ill-satisfied with this
state of things, called upon Leopold to return; fortifying their demand with the intimation that, in
case of his refusal to comply with the public wish,
his dethronement would be proclaimed. Hastening
to Sienna, Montanelli sought an audience of the
Grand Duke, to urge a compliance with the popular
desire. But Montanelli's mission proved fruitless;
for Leopold, terrified by the ever-darkening aspect
of affairs, fled with his family to the seaport town
of San Stefano, on the morning of the 7th of February. Two official letters announced to Montanelli this proceeding of the Duke, and the Minister
immediately returning to Florence, communicated
to his colleagues the event that had occurred.
Florence was instantly in commotion on the receipt of the news. The official letters of the Prince
were sent to all the civil and military authorities of
the State; and by Guerrazzi's orders the tocsin of
alarm was sounded, the garrison was called to arms,
and the Chambers were convoked. The storm, that
had been so long looming in the distance, darkening
the horizon, had burst over Tuscany at last.
Terror, consternation and confusion prevailed at
Florence. No sooner had the deputies assembled to
deliberate on the state of affairs, than their proceedings were interrupted by the unlicensed intrusion




THE LATE REVOLUTION.          321
into the Chambers of a deputation from one of the
revolutionary societies of the town. The leader of
this band, a man of the name of Niccolini, immediately commenced a harangue-" Citizens, legislators!" he exclaimed, "the people of Florence    "
"Silence!" interrupted the President of the
Chambers; "it is not for you to speak within
these walls. If you have a petition, it will be received by the Secretary of the Assembly, according
to proper form."
" I bear not a petition, but an order from the people!" said Niccolini; who then proceeded to state
that nothing else but a Provisional Government,
composed of Guerrazzi, Montanelli, and Mazzoni,
would satisfy the inhabitants of the town.
The tumult increased; the President put on his
hat and declared the sitting at an end. A considerable number of deputies left the hall; at seeing
which, a deputy of the name of Socci, rising up and
striking his hand violently on the desk, called out
after his departing comrades-" Stay! let us die
upon our chairs."
The President Zannetti gave the signal for the
sitting to be resumed, and then followed a debate of
the most tumultuous kind. Some deputies tried to
still the clamor that prevailed; but amidst the cries
that penetrated to the chamber from without-cries
of "Viva il Governo Provvisoria; viva Montanelli,
Guerrazzi, e Mazzoni!" — cries which stimulated
21




822            LIFE IN TUSCANY.
their partizans in the Assembly to exhort compliance with the popular demand-every expostulation,
every appeal to reason was in vain.
"Let us respect the voice of the people," said the
deputy Trinci; " as for me, I have full confidence
in the men who would form the government proposed."
With words such as these resounding in tones of
menace from different portions of the hall, the adherents of the fugitive prince finally gave way to
the popular demand; and by a vote of the Chamber, a Provisional Government, composed of Guerrazzi, Montanelli, and Mazzoni, was installed.
Passing from the Chamber of Deputies, the triumvirate presented themselves before the Senate, to
have the election of the Lower House confirmed;
their appearance was received in silence; indicating
plainly consternation, disapprobation, and distrust:
the Duke of Casigliani alone gave utterance to the
sentiments generally felt by the senators.
" This new power," he said, " cannot be ratified
bly us, since it does not profess to govern in the name
of the Prince."
"Elected by the people, I shall govern in the
name of the people," returned Guerrazzi; and however distasteful this reply might be to the Assembly,
fear was a too predominant sensation amongst their
members to admit of their putting themselves in




THE LATE REVOLUTION.         323
opposition to the popular will. The vote of the
Chamber of Deputies was confirmed.
Tumultuous popular demonstrations of joy in
Florence accompanied the instalment of the Provisional Government.  Under the leadership of the
same Niccolini who had invaded the precincts of the
Representative Chamber, a crowd of people traversed
the city, and in every public square proclaimed the
deposition of the Grand Duke. Trees of liberty
were planted in every street, in every lane, in the
vicinity of every church, amidst cries of joy and enthusiastic Evvivas, mingled with the martial strains
of the revolutionary hymn of France. The statues
of Leopold were thrown down, and his heraldic insignia injured or defaced.
The first act of the Provisional Government was
to dissolve the Chambers, and to call a new Parliament; but before the latter had entered upon its
duties, speedily as the elections took place, the tide
of popular feeling had begun to turn in favor of the
old form of government, which had been so roughly
overthrown. In truth, it was no wonder it should
be so; for, from the day that the Provisional Government was installed, riots, dissensions, and commotions prevailed throughout the most part of
Tuscany. Irritated with the aspect of affairs, the
Government had recourse to stringent measures to
restore order and calm. Arrests were made upon
suspicion; and the prisons were filled with persons




324            LIFE IN TUSCANY.
charged with political crimes. Too impatient to
wait for the opening of the new Parliament, which
was to decide upon the form of government Tuscany
should have, the citizens of Leghorn, on the 17th of
February, with the concurrence of- their Governor,
proclaimed the Republic with sound of trumpet
through the streets of their town.
The Grand Duke of Tuscany, in his retreat at
San Stefano, had received tidings of the movement
in Leghorn; and the report of cannon at Orbetello,
fired in honor of the republican victory, reached his
ears. The sound was one that brought terror and
perplexity to him; for he had been informed that
Montanelli had given orders to the Tuscan troops to
march on San Stefano without delay, and obtain
possession of his person by every practicable means.
It was, therefore, absolutely necessary for his safety
that he should leave his present abode; but with
-that indecision which is the characteristic of weak
minds, Leopold could not determine in what direction he should bend his steps. Unable to act in this
exigency for himself-hesitating to accept the offer
that was made him of an asylum in Piedmont-he
resolved to seek the counsel of the Pope. Communication with the Pope, at that time a refugee at
Gaeta, was difficult; but through the gallantry of a
young officer, who undertook a voyage of a hundred
and eighty miles in a small fishing-boat, the difficulty:was surmounted  and in conformity with the advice




THE LATE REVOLUTION.         325
received, Leopold embarked for Gaeta, to share with
Pius the protection of the Neapolitan King.
To the courage and resolution which the Grand
Duchess displayed, she was alone indebted for the
means of joining her husband in his flight. Being
apprised by Leopold of his intention to embark for
Gaeta, she set off instantly for San Stefano, accompanied by her children, two ladies of honor, and two
officers belonging to her suit.  Without troops,
without guards, without any means of resisting popular violence, the attitude assumed by the populace
of Orbetello, a city through which she had to pass,
was one calculated to strike her with alarm.
Scarcely had her carriage entered the town, when
it was surrounded by a crowd that effectually
blocked up the way; while from every side resounded cries that plainly indicated to the Princess the
intention of the people to prevent her from journeying on. To move them from their purpose, she tried
remonstrances and entreaties; but in vain. Suddenly, however, changing her bearing, at the moment when the cries around her had reached their
highest pitch, she started to her feet, and with a
queenlike gesture, look, and tone of voice, cried
out —" Back! I will pass on.  Vow, I no longer entreat-I command."' Surprised, confused and overawed-acted on by the magnetic influence of a resolute will-the crowd with one accord drew back,




326             LIFE IN TUSCANY.
and the Grand Duchess proceeded triumphantly on
her way.
The new Parliament, convoked by universal suffrage, opened its deliberations at the end of March.
The first act of this body was to nominate Guerrazzi
head of the executive power, and to invest him with
almost dictatorial sway. As between him and Montanelli, one of his late colleagues in office, much dissension and altercation had prevailed, Guerrazzi
profited by his new dignity to free himself from the
presence of a formidable rival, by sending Montanelli on an embassy to Paris. But though supreme
in Tuscany, and placed in a position grateful to an
ambitious spirit like his, Guerrazzi was too clearsighted not to feel that his reign could not last
long. Signs of a reactionary movement grew more
apparent every day. The Florentine populace, lately such ardent republicans, grew so lukewarm in
the cause, that Guerrazzi considered it necessary to
draft to Florence a band of staunch adherents from
the democratic town of Leghorn to execute his commands. This measure, however, was productive of
results little in -conformity with the projector's views.
Instead of strengthening his hands, it weakened
them in an eminent degree. His popularity with
the Florentines, already on the wane, dwindled
away rapidly day by day, through the malpractices
of the Leghornese. Composed of the lowest of the
people, the dregs of a seaport town, excited by evil




THE LATE REVOLUTION.         327
passions, the wish to tyrannize, and a thirst for gain,
this band soon drew upon itself the hatred of every
class within the town. Threats of vengeance for
insults offered, and injuries inflicted, were daily
uttered by the Florentines. Scowling looks and
contracted brows awaited the band of mercenaries
on every hand; in the public-houses where they refused to pay, in the streets, where their rude, insolent bearing was conspicuously displayed. So evident was the danger of a collision between the
hostile parties, that the municipal authorities of
Florence solicited Guerrazzi to withdraw the band
of strangers from the city. Assenting to this request,
Guerrazzi ordered his unpopular adherents to depart; and, in obedience to this command, the Leghornese, on the 11th of April, marched in a body
towards the station of the railway that led to their
native town.
But even in the moment when the danger of a
conflict seemed to be at an end, the long-brooding
mischief occurred. To which of the opposing parties was attributable the blame of precipitating the
fray is not known. Both, probably, in this respect,
were equally in fault-both, probably, burned with
the same desire to come to blows; the Leghornese,
exasperated by the triumphant looks, words, and
gestures of those around- the Florentines, by the
desire to seize on the last opportunity that remained
to them to chastise the offending band. Where such




328             LIFE IN TUSCANY.
feelings exist, where such inflammable materials
prevail, the smallest spark is sufficient to kindle a
devouring flame. In the Piazza of Santa Maria
Novello, the combat between the Leghornese and
Florentines began. A general consternation prevailed, for a horrible massacre seemed likely to
ensue. The National Guard were called to arms,
and repairing to the scene of battle, they put an
end to the conflict before long: overpowered by
numbers, the defeated Leghornese took to flight.
This victory exercised an important influence in
Florence over the course of events. Several members of the municipal council, emboldened by the
defeat of the Leghornese, decided at once to put
themselves at the head of the reactionary movement
that had begun, and which showed itself unmistakably in the acts of the populace of the town. Loud
as had been the cries of " Via la lRepublica!"
amongst which the emblems of democratic power
had been reared on high, were now the shouts of
"Viva Leopoldo Secondo!" amongst which those obnoxious symbols were overthrown. A more striking
instance of the fickleness of popular feeling can
scarcely be afforded in the records of any nation
than that which at this period took place in the
Tuscan capital. In two months' time, an unreasoning enthusiasm for republican sway had passed into
an equally unreasoning enthusiasm for despotic
rule. Victims of their own extravagant expecta



THE LATE REVOLUTION.         329
tions, which had made liberty appear to them a
synonym for plenty, cheapness, idleness, ease, they
now trampled under foot the tricolored insignia of
the goddess at whose shrine they had so lately bowed-victims, too, of the fatal error which had raised
to power a man unfit to hold the helm of a State in
troubled times, they now revenged themselves for
their mistake, by heaping on their late worshiped
chief epithets of hate and scorn. Voices which had
grown hoarse a short time before, in leading the
chants in Guerrazzi's praise, were now the loudest
to demand his expulsion from the seat he held.
"Abbasso Guerrazzi!" was the cry that, caught up
by hundreds of voices, now resounded through the
same squares and streets which had but a few weeks
previously re-echoed with his praise.
Those members of the upper classes who had only
given a reluctant or forced consent to the deposition
of the Grand Duke, were not slow in availing themselves of the reaction of public opinion in his favor
to restore him to his throne. In the name of Leopold, one of the members of the municipal council
assumed the reigns of government; and several influential persons, amongst others the commander of
the National Guard, ranged themselves on his side.
However disheartened Guerrazzi might be at the
aspect of affairs, he met the dancer with an undaunted mien. Summoning to his side three hundred of the National Gnards as a protection against




330            LIFE IN TUSCANY.
popular violence, he at the same time convoked the
Chamber of Deputies. Sixteen members alone, however, of the legislative body responded to the appeal.
From these few still faithful adherents, Guerrazzi
demanded the impeachment of the municipal council, as a body guilty of treasonable acts and designs.
The discussion on this momentous question had
scarcely commenced, when the deputies were startled
by the sudden appearance before them of one of
that very body whose acts had been arraigned.
" Gentlemen," said the intruder, "you have taken
the resolution to impeach us- You!" he added, in
a tone of scorn. "Nevertheless, I come here in the
name of the municipality, to assure you that your
cause is hopeless, and that unless you change your
views and conduct speedily, we will not answer for
your lives."
At these words, some of the deputies made a
movement to reply, but before they could execute
their intention, the bold speaker had resumed —
"Open the windows!" he said; "look at that
throng of citizens; listen to their cries. They are
demanding their sovereign; they are calling down
curses on your heads!"
Looks of fear and disquietude were visible in the
faces of many of the deputies at these words, and
four of their number, rising from their seats, declared their adhesion to the monarchical cause, and
offered the aid of their services to the municipality




THE LATE REVOLUTION.         331
to effect the restoration of Leopold. Disheartened
by defection, Guerrazzi, abating his pretensions,
sought now to effect a compromise with the monarchical party. Demanding and obtaining an
interview with the municipality, he offered, on certain terms, the aid of himself and his adherents to
forward the object proposed. Much time was spent
in negotiations on this head, for the deliberations of
the assembly were influenced in a great degree by
the aspect of affairs outside. Both parties, republican and monarchical, awaited with anxiety a more
undoubted, a more universal manifestation of the
public will than had yet occurred; so a wordy debate dragged on till evening, when the partizans of
the Grand Duke, forming the majority of the assembly, assured by intelligence received that theirs
was certainly the victorious side, refused point-blank
the compromise proposed.
With the standard bearing the ducal arms, and in
solemn state, the members of the municipal council
repaired to the Palazzo Vecchio, from the ancient
walls of which had issued Guerrazzi's mandates
during his ephemeral reign. Amidst shouts a thousand times repeated of "Viva Leopoldo Secondo!"
"Abbasso Guerrazzi!" the municipal authorities
took possession, in their sovereign's name, of this
seat of republican rule. At the foot of the same
dark walls which have witnessed so many mutations
of popular feeling in their day, where only two




332             LIFE IN TUSCANY.
months before the ducal arms had been trampled in
the dust, a cry for a bust of the absent Prince clamorously arose; and when, in compliance with this
demand, an effigy of the Duke was shown, the air
was rent with enthusiastic cheers.
Guerrazzi, deserted by his former zealous adherents, and rudely dispossessed of the authority which,
with popular sanction and approval, he had so recently assumed, though conscious that his cause was
hopeless and his power at an end, refused to take
any measure to assure his safety by flight, and calmly surrendered himself up to the officers of justice,
who came to execute the decree of arrest issued by
the new authorities against him. -Brought to trial,
and pronounced guilty of treasonable practices
against his sovereign, he was condemned to expiate,
by a long imprisonment within the walls of the
fortress of the Belvedere, the triumph of the brief
term of power and popularity he had enjoyed.
With the day that witnessed his arrest, the revolution of which he had been the chief animating spirit,
may be said to have terminated; for, notwithstanding the Leghornese contested with arms the entrance
into their town of the Austrian troops whom Leopold had called to his side, the conduct of Leghorn
in this particular was not imitated by any other
large city of Tuscany; though many towns, both
small and large, were well known to look with disfavor on the Grand Duke's recall. In truth, the




THE LATE REVOLUTION.        333
restoration of Leopold to his throne, seems to have
been brought about, not by a love of the Government that had been overthrown, but by a hatred of
that anarchy which had resulted from democratic
rule. In the minds of the respectable classes of the
land, of all those who were interested in the security
of life and property, the government of the Grand
Duke was viewed simply as preferable to the government of the mob. Of the two kinds of despotism,
the former seemed the best-the least of two evils,
between which there appeared to many no alternative but to choose.
Though the authority of the Grand Duke was
nominally established in Florence on the 12th of
April, the day after the expulsion of the Leghornese,
Leopold did not return to his capital until the 28th
of July, when not only Florence, but every town in
Tuscany, had its good behavior fully secured by the
presence of Austrian troops. Throwing himself thus
avowedly on a German army for support, and declaring thus openly how little dependence he placed
in the affection and loyalty of the people over whom
he ruled-augmenting taxation, too, in various ways,
to defray the cost of supporting that large band of
foreign soldiers, on whose aid he leaned-it cannot
be a matter of surprise that the reactionary feeling
in his favor, which gave him back his throne, has
died out utterly, and that whatever feelings may
now be found operating in favor of the maintenance




334            LIFE IN TUSCANY.
of his rule, affection is not one. Even to the stranger, this is evident, who happens to be present on
some public occasion, when the Grand Duke is
brought into immediate contact with the inhabitants
of Florence. Amidst the crowd that lines the streets
on St. John's Day, to witness the grand parade of
Grand Ducal and aristocratic equipages, the few
hats uplifted, as the sovereign passes, serve but to
make more marked, more striking, the absence
amongst the general mass of any kind of courteous
salutations.
To the thought of the future of Italy, who does
not turn with interest?-who would not proffer their
best wishes for the prosperity of a country the
parent land of European law, art, literature and civilization? In the progress which the world is making
at this present day, Italy, so blessed by Providence,
so bounteously endowed by nature with everything
that can minister to a nation's riches and prosperity
-a country that shone out so brightly during the
prevailing darkness of the middle ages-Italy, surely,
is not destined to lag behind in the rearward ranks
of onward marching nations. Throughout the whole
Peninsula, there are many signs that the existing
state of affairs will not be of long continuance: and
the termination cannot come too soon of a state of
things which blights both heart and mind, which
blasts all intellectual growth, fosters idleness and
self-indulgence, and is fatal alike to private and




THE LATE REVOLUTION.           835
public virtue. Brought up in a state of intellectual
slavery, as Italians were, unused to liberty of thought
and speech, unhabituated to the exercise of selfgovernment-no wonder it-was they abused those
privileges when, a few years ago, they wrested them
from their rulers. Remembering the source from
which the errors of the revolutionary period flowed,
they should be treated leniently, as the errors of
children, who, from being perpetually guarded,
checked at every step, hedged in by restrictions,
suddenly, at one bound, find themselves emancipat*ed from control. Though individuals will sometimes, from the strong bent of nature, rise superior
to the power of circumstances, yet as a general rule,
it may be said, national institutions form the national
character.
It was of Italy Napoleon declared: "Out of
eighteen millions of people, I have, with difficulty,
found two men." As it was half a century ago,
when these words were spoken, so it is now: the
same influences are at work to make men rare in
Italy —men in the full sense of the word-reasoning,
reflective, intelligent, strong-willed, high-principled,
active, energetic human beings-capable of taking
fortune at its tide, of bending circumstances to their
will, and of pursuing, in the face of opposing obstacles, a fixed aim and a definite course of action.
But natures such as these, fitted to guide and govern, to reassure the timid, to overawe the turbulent,




336           LIFE IN TUSCANY.
in times of popular commotion - such natures are
not the products of a country where thought is
shackled, speech is gagged, and every path is closed
to honorable ambition. Evils act and react upon
one another: an unworthy government makes an
unworthy people, and an unworthy people perpetuates an unworthy government. But Italians, long
as they have been trodden down, and heavy as is
the yoke fixed upon their necks, have now awakened fully to a sense of their abased condition; and
with that consciousness will come regenerating influences: a patriotism which, purified from selfish aims,
will make politics something else than a trade, or a
market of competing venalities.
Italy, now more than twenty-five millions strong,
has but to will to be free-to will unanimously, determinedly, self-sacrificingly, to be free —to become
so speedily. Relying now too much on foreign aid
and foreign intervention for an amelioration of their
condition, the people as yet do not fully see or feel,
that freedom, to be lasting, must be attained by
their own efforts; and that the wail of inability on
their part to win liberty for themselves, involves a
confession of their incompetency to maintain it, if
gained by them through the means of foreign succor. "Aide-toi et le ciel t'aidera," is a proverb embodying sterling truth and sage counsel. For Italy
to take her place amongst the foremost nations of
the world-to cover the seas with her merchant




THE LATE REVOLUTION.          337
ships, to rear emporiums for human industry, and
to produce such minds as will extend the landmarks
of human knowledge —minds which, penetrating
into Nature's secrets, will turn its mysteries to man's
profit-minds exerting by wisdom, learning, fancy,
pathos, eloquence, wit, an enduring dominion over
the intellect of succeeding generations; to do all
this-an ambition to which she may well aspireItaly must not receive her freedom as a gift, but
must work it out by her own energies, through the
purifying agencies of suffering, sacrifice, devotion
and perseverance.
In the present juncture of affairs, when a collision
between France and Austria seems imminent, it behooves Italians to act with caution; for the expulsion of the Austrian from their land, if accomplished
by foreign aid, would be an act from which they
could not reason ably hope to derive the least advantage. The freedom of a nation has never yet been
achieved, nor ever will be obtained, through the
assistance of a despot. Philanthropy abides not
with the wearer of an imperial crown, nor hatred of
oppression with the master of the lives and fortunes
of millions. To uproot one tyranny merely to have
another planted in its stead, would be no gain to,
Italy. On the contrary, the yoke last imposed would
prove, in all probability, more grievous than the one.
that it succeeded. The fable of the horse which
asked the man to mount him, to avenge him on his
22




338             LIFE IN TUSCANY.
enemy, affords a salutary warning, in reference to
the course which would inevitably be pursued by
France in the character of avenger of Italian grievances; for the service done, the position occupied
by its doer would still be retained, and Italy, curbed
by the strong hand of her selected champion, would
find, ere long, that there could exist for her a still
greater evil than the rule of Austria. To invite
assistance is, on the part of nations, to invite oppression. A people who cannot win freedom by their
own exertions, must resign themselves to a state of
servitude and dependence; for the well known "Rob
Roy good old rule," * though banned and scouted
in private life, is the doctrine still acted on by kings
and nations; and whilst Might makes Right in their
estimation, weak states will ever fall victims to the
stronger. In this, however, as well as in other
affairs of life, we may in general trace a law of retributive justice; for in a nation which consists of
millions, weakness is a disgrace, a degradation.
There is a Nemesis ever attending on human error,
either as regards states or individuals. No fault or
folly can be committed that does not involve some
penalty, and Italy is now not one nation chiefly
because its millions have no unity in thought, feeling and aspiration; for throughout the land, miserable petty jealousies divide the inhabitants, not only
* "That those should take who have the power,
And those should keep who can."'




THE LATE REVOLUTION.          339
of states but of cities, from each other. During the
late revolution in Tuscany, Leghorn, with a view of
establishing itself as an independent republic, rose
up in arms against Florence; and Genoa, enjoying
a large measure of liberty under the rule of the
King of Sardinia, is ready now to fight, as it fought
a few years ago, to attain a distinct national existence. Florence is jealous of the pretensions df
Rome, and iNKaples has no true sympathy with either.
Whilst such a state of things continues, the dream,
so dear to the Italian patriot, of making Italy something more than "a geographical expression," can
certainly not be realized. Without unity of thought
and action, resistance is hopeless; but, with community of aim and purpose, the overthrow of foreign
or domestic tyranny would be unfailingly and speedily accomplished.
In the next attempt which Italians make to acquire the privileges of freemen, let them avoid those
errors which blighted the fair promise that characterized the commencement of their last endeavor.
The wisdom derived from suffering and experience
should now be theirs; and if they profit by its teachings, Italy will exhibit, in the succeeding century, a
picture differing widely from the aspect it presents
in this, of a people burning with resentment and
hatred towards its rulers, and rulers regarding with
terror and distrust the millions beneath their sway.