"To see skull, coffin'd bones, and funeral state;Pitying each form that hungry Death had marr'd,And filling it once more with human soul."
"To see skull, coffin'd bones, and funeral state;Pitying each form that hungry Death had marr'd,And filling it once more with human soul."
After going through some hundred yards of this vast tomb, I felt glad to return to the sunlight and pure air of the living world.
On the road to Monreale there is an interesting botanical garden, where I saw some very fine specimens of plants entirely new to me—camphor, coffee, castor oil, and others. There are many beautifulgardens in Palermo, besides the delightful public one known as the "Flora," which afforded such a charming and refreshing outlook from the Hotel de France, where I was staying.
The great cross-roads afford one of the principal drives of theéliteof the town, and at about three o'clock in the afternoon these thoroughfares are crowded with the carriages of the Palermian aristocracy. The circus, where the two roads meet and intersect each other, forms a large open space called the "Ottangolo," from its octagonal shape; each of the eight sides is formed by a beautiful building or fountain. This place is a favourite lounge for soldiers and idlers generally, who come here simply to enjoy their cigarettes in the open, sunlit air, and in the hope, like the ancient Athenians, of hearing "some new thing."
The Bersaglieri regiment, in their shining black hats, with flowing cocks' plumes, cut a great dash. I often wondered where all these feathers came from, as the cock seemed quite arara avisat Palermo. Perhaps, after all, one fact explained the other, and I had been mixing up cause and effect. The military were evidently proud of themselves and their past exploits with Garibaldi; they had certainly proved that there was plenty of sturdy pluck about them. They are in general a small, swarthy, handsome set of men, but with rather too much of a swagger for soldiers who had seen service. The ladies are graceful and dignified; a trifle too pale, I thought, but I have since learnt that this pallor is studiously acquired—Isuppose, to give more sentiment to the expression: in other countries, ladies seem inclined to go in for alittle morecolour. The nocturnal-like existence of the Sicilian ladies, however, should be quite sufficient to produce the desired pallor, without any artificial aid. Their evening commences at 10.30, when tea is served, and you are lucky if you can contrive to get away by 2 a.m. As a matter of course, they are invisible during the morning, and are seldom seen before three o'clock in the afternoon, when they drive out to gain fresh vigour for their nocturnal existence.
From January to May, I believe Palermo is considered a very healthy place for invalids. It is not subject to changes of climate, and being on an island is perhaps the cause of its advantage over other places on the Italian coast, and especially those situated more inland, and on a river, such as Rome, Pisa, and Florence; for these rivers are generally the receptacles of the city sewage—dirty, muddy, and polluted streams, and most unhealthy during the warm season. Yet, strange to say, these river-sides are frequently selected as chosen places of residence, as witness the Lung Arno of Pisa and Florence.
One of the features of Palermo is the number of reservoirs, which are generally situated at the corners of streets, and every house in the city accordingly has an abundant supply of water. This must also be a great source of cleanliness and healthfulness.
For a tour of a few weeks, I can fancy no place more interesting than this fair island. Theenchanting Straits of Messina, Catania, Mount Etna, and lovely Aci Reale; the ancient Girgenti and Syracuse with their Greek and Roman ruins; Marsala and Palermo. It is also close to the interesting island of Malta, and is the highway for steamers to all parts. The place is healthy, and, finally, the living is good and moderate in price. Travelling, too, is convenient and cheap: the tramways run quite round Palermo, and the carriages are better and cheaper than in any other city in Europe.
Although travelling in Italy has its drawbacks, I have found more pleasure in moving amongst the Italians than the French. There is an evident respect and grateful sympathy felt by the former towards England, while the French take no pains to disguise their antipathy. Yet we were blindly intent on making the Channel Tunnel, foolishly supposing it would convert our sullen neighbour into a sincere friend and commercial ally.
I could not but notice in Palermo, the vigorous efforts of the Italian Government to suppress brigandage. I constantly saw some of the plumed Bersaglieri posted in the most out-of-the-way places, commanding the various passes, in order to surprise any attempt that might be made.
Before leaving Sicily, I cannot refrain from recalling that perfect avalanche of stirring incidents that took place in 1860—incidents that far eclipse all other events recorded in the momentous history of this lovely island; and, as the death of the patrioticGaribaldi is still of somewhat recent date, and the subject is one of universal interest, I shall, in the following chapter, briefly sketch these thrilling events, with certain particulars of the part taken therein by the English which have not been publicly known before.
Annexation of Nice and Savoy—Garibaldi's protest—A desperate venture—Calatafimi—Catania—Melazzo—Entry into Naples—Gaeta—The British Contingent—Departure from England—Desertion—Arrival in Naples—Colonel"Long Shot"—Major H—— 's imaginary regiment—Dispersion of the British Contingent.
Annexation of Nice and Savoy—Garibaldi's protest—A desperate venture—Calatafimi—Catania—Melazzo—Entry into Naples—Gaeta—The British Contingent—Departure from England—Desertion—Arrival in Naples—Colonel"Long Shot"—Major H—— 's imaginary regiment—Dispersion of the British Contingent.
On April 1st, 1860, of all days in the year, was consummated the annexation of Nice and Savoy to France. Napoleon III. had liberated Lombardy from the Austrian yoke, and handed it over to Victor Emmanuel. As the "honest broker," he required his fee, and, much against the will of the majority of the inhabitants, Nice and Savoy became French territory. Certainly aplébiscitewas taken on the question, but the whole affair was "managed," and the birthplace of one of modern Italy's greatest men was handed over to France.
Giuseppe Garibaldi loudly protested against the annexation, and never forgave it.
For some time during the early spring of 1860, the Sicilians had been in a state of intermittent rebellion against Ferdinand King of Naples—Bombina. At the end of April, Garibaldi determined to make a strenuous effort to aid the patriot insurgents, andcollected around him several of his old companions in arms, among whom were Nino Brixio, Colonel Turr, the Hungarian, Count Teletri, and Sistari. With these were a number of brave men who had survived the siege of Rome, and the slaughter by General Oudinot's troops. In three days after determining on action, everything was prepared for one of the most daring and hairbreadth expeditions of modern times. Supplies of arms and stores were procured and held ready at different points of the coast near Genoa; several steamers were "arranged for" (it was stated, at the time they were seized); and on the night of Saturday, May 5th, some two thousand stern and resolute volunteers of all classes of society, and all ages from sixteen to sixty, including about two hundred of the best marksmen of the Società del Tiro Nazionale of Genoa, were on board the steamers,PiedmontiandLombardo, belonging to the Genoese Rubatino Navigation Company, andLa Sardigna. The embarkation, which took place at Foco and other places on the coast, was witnessed by five thousand spectators, who wished the brave fellows God-speed. The Sardinian Government,sub rosâ, was fully cognizant of the whole affair, but dared not give it either countenance or recognition of any sort. Shortness of time alone prevented Garibaldi going to the king who was at Bologna, and telling him of his plans.
ThePiedmontiwas under the command of Garibaldi himself, and Nino Brixio took charge of theLombardo. Both were experienced sailors. It wasgenerally rumoured that they intended landing on the coast of the Roman States, and thePiedmontidid call at Telemone for water, as the vessel that carried her store had been seized. From Telemone Garibaldi addressed a letter to Signor Barline, which served as thepronunciamentoof his expedition and intentions,i.e.to free Italy from the Bourbons. On May 7th the vessels and their gallant crews, recovered from the effects of the very stormy passage from Genoa, set forth again; and on the 11th the whole party disembarked at Marsala, in the teeth of two Neapolitan frigates, who opened fire on them just as the last boat was leaving thePiedmonti, which vessel they afterwardsgallantlycaptured, there being no one on board! TheLombardowas sunk by the Neapolitan guns, and the other vessels made off as best they could, after landing their men. The whole took place in full view of Admiral Mundy and the officers and men of the British fleet.
No sooner were the Garibaldians landed than they marched on to Calatafimi, quite unfettered in their movements by any superabundance of baggage. Here they at once attacked and defeated the royal troops, four times their number, and, raising the whole country on their route, pushed on towards Palermo. At the battle of Calatafimi, Menotti Garibaldi, the son of the general, received his first wound.
With all Europe looking on, amazed at the sheer audacity of the deed, Garibaldi showed himself as prudent and as skilful as he was bold. Hisred-shirted army, daily increasing in numbers, made one of the most wonderful forced flank marches on record, pushing the way along mere goat-tracks over the mountains, and with such rapidity that General Lanzi, the commandant of the royal army in Palermo, was awakened in the middle of the night to hear that the dreaded Garibaldians, whom he supposed to be at least twenty miles away, were actually forcing their way into the city, and driving the soldiers of Bombina before them. Being driven out of Palermo, Lanzi shelled the city from the forts, in spite of the remonstrances of Admiral Mundy, who had moved the British fleet round the coast to watch proceedings. Outside Palermo, at a place called Catania, Garibaldi engaged and defeated the royal army so badly that General Lanzi was fain to ask the aid of the British admiral, to negociate terms between himself and the filibuster Garibaldi, for his withdrawal from, and surrender of, Palermo to the national army. Had it not been for the generosity of an American captain, who supplied the red-shirts with ammunition, they would have exhausted their last cartridge before the battle of Catania was half over.
Garibaldi was not the man to remain idle one moment, and after establishing a provisional government at Palermo, and recruiting his small forces, he set out towards Messina, and again attacked the Royal army at Melazzo, on July 24. Here was one of the severest struggles of the war. Melazzo was ahard-fought battle, but victory remained with the patriots, and the result placed Messina in the hands of Garibaldi, and with it the whole of the fair island of Sicily. It was at the battle of Melazzo that, watching some English sailors, who had obtained leave from their ships and volunteered their services in the cause of freedom, and were very skilfully managing some pieces of artillery, the idea occurred to Garibaldi and some of his staff, to invite the services of England by the formation of a volunteer legion.
Shortly after the news reached London of the battle of Melazzo, agents were at work enrolling volunteers to join the standard of Garibaldi—no longer the revolutionary fillibuster, but the victorious general.
When at Messina, Garibaldi received a letter from Victor Emmanuel, forbidding him to make any attempt to cross the Straits of Messina, and carry the war on to the mainland; but he heeded it not, or, what is perhaps most probable, he read between the lines, that having succeeded so far, greatly to the surprise of all the wiseacres among European diplomatists, he was to follow up his good fortune, and "go ahead." He did so, and, in spite of the Neapolitan fleet being in the Straits to prevent his passage, he crossed in the night and landed at Melita August 20th, and at once commenced the task of driving out the detested Bombina from his kingdom.
In informing his Government of the fact, AdmiralMundy, who had brought the British fleet to Messina, said, "If the royal troops are staunch, he must be annihilated in a week." But he knew neither the rottenness of the Neapolitan government nor the terror with which the red-shirted Garibaldians were regarded by the royal troops; for with scarcely any fighting the victorious Garibaldi advanced, driving the king's army before him like sheep, and entered Naples, on the 7th of September.
His progress from Messina to Naples was unlike any military advance recorded in history. The Bombini government was paralyzed. The king sent to him, and offered fifty millions of francs and the surrender of the whole Neapolitan navy, if he would halt his men and stop the invasion. He knew little of the man who had sworn never to sheath his sword till Victor Emmanuel was King of Italy!
Ferdinand remained in Naples while Garibaldi and General Coyenzi entered it in an open carriage, followed by the chief officers of his staff. The air was rent with the shouts of the people, who thronged in thousands to hail their deliverer. The Neapolitan police—the hated Sbirri—looked on in sullen silence. The guns of the fortress of St. Elmo commanded the road by which the cavalcade advanced, and were all loaded, the gunners standing ready with lighted fuses waiting for the word to fire. The order was given to clear the streets with grape shot, but the artillerymen stood amazed at the sight of the approaching carriage, in which Garibaldi stood erect,with his hand on his breast, giving orders to the coachmen to drive slower and slower, in a voice that was heard above all the din of the "vivas" of the populace. Three times the officers gave the word to fire; but the gunners were now under the actual majestic influence of Garibaldi's noble patriotism and unflinching courage, and, throwing down their matches, they flung their caps into the air, and joined the people in their cries of "Viva Garibaldi! Viva Italia!"
The king left the city and fled to Gaeta, and, having collected what troops he could, returned to Volturino, the whole of his army amounting to thirty thousand men. He had not long to wait before Garibaldi, who had been proclaimed Dictator in Naples, attacked him with about five thousand really fighting men, and a herd of Neapolitans who were of no earthly use. The king made most desperate efforts to crush the red-shirts, who fought as only men can fight who do so for country and liberty. After seeing many of his best men fall, and among them some of his dearest friends, and passing through many personal dangers—for he was ever in the hottest part of the battle—Garibaldi drove the royal troops back, and they never stopped or showed face again till they were safe within the lines of Gaeta, where, after making a decent show of resistance, and standing a siege by the troops of Victor Emmanuel, they surrendered, and the Bourbon dynasty disappeared from Italian soil for ever.
The whole campaign, from the landing at Marsalato the last defeat of the Neapolitan army at Volturino, occupied but 122 days, in which time a mere handful of determined patriots, who were regarded as banditti at the outset of the undertaking, and who were at no time decently supplied with what are deemed by military men the ordinary and necessary equipments for warfare, beat a well-organized army in four regular engagements, besides innumerable skirmishes, and conquered a kingdom.
History records how nobly Garibaldi acted, and how scurvily he was treated. On October 24th, having handed over to Victor Emmanuel the kingdom of the two Sicilies, and made him King of Italy, he retired from Naples, to his island home at Caprera, and, after having at his command the treasury of Naples, was compelled to borrow £20 from a friend to defray his private expenses, and embarked with less than twenty francs in his pocket.
No wonder every Italian glories in the name of Garibaldi! Such men are few and far between.
I have mentioned the formation of a British volunteer legion. Probably there have been few more mismanaged affairs than this British contingent, from the first conception of it on the field of Melazzo to the disbandment of the remnants of it after the surrender of Gaeta.
In the summer of 1860, a gentleman, calling himself Major S——, appeared in London, as the accredited agent for the formation of the British Garibaldian Legion. An office was opened in Salisbury Street,Strand, for the enrolment of volunteers, and a committee having been formed, met daily in a room over the shop where a gentleman, better known among Free-thinkers as Iconoclast, sold his own and other unorthodox books of a similar character in Fleet Street. Here a Captain de R—— became the practical man, while a Major H—— assumed the character of the dashing dragoon officer. A legal opinion was obtained as to the best way of evading the several Acts of Parliament bearing on the points of foreign enlistment and equipment of armed forces in time of peace.[G]
The great volunteer movement having sprung into existence during the previous year, there was a vast amount of military ardour floating about among young men of all classes, and recruits offered themselves faster than funds were subscribed for their equipment.
About ten or twelve hundred young men of all classes enrolled themselves in the legion, and officers of more or less experience were not wanting to command them. An offer was made to take the whole force out to Naples in a large screw steamer, theCircassian, which had formerly been employed in the Transatlantic service, and belonged to an eminent Greek firm. The offer was, to take the regiment out to Naples, and to feed and provide the men with all necessaries, on exactly the same scale and manner as English troops had been accommodated on board vessels that had taken out the army to suppress the IndianMutiny. Captain de R——, the practical man on the committee, advocated the acceptance of this offered contract, but there were other influences at work. Commissions were offered, and "pickings" were to be obtained if the men were sent out at a cheaper rate in another way, and the consequence was that, instead of the whole force going together in one large vessel, with ample and comfortable accommodation, they were sent out in two parties, in two miserable little vessels totally unfitted for such work, and quite incapable of berthing more than half the number packed on board. The first ship to start was a small screw boat, re-christened for the occasion theMelazzo, after the late Garibaldian victory. The men were huddled on board anyhow at Thames Haven, in the night. No sooner had she got to sea than discomfort begat discontent. There were only sleeping-berths for half the number on board, and consequently the poor volunteers had to take it in turns to sleep; it was turn out one lot, and turn in the other. The vessel called at Plymouth, and a large number of passengers left her, some to find their way out on their "own hook," and join the force in Italy; and others, having had enough of such discomfort, deserted altogether. The remainder sailed on board the paddle-steamerLondon, a vessel quite as unsuited for the purpose as theMelazzo. The men assembled at midnight at Fenchurch Street station, making the surrounding neighbourhood echo again with their patriotic songs, and a special train took them down to Southend,where theLondonwas lying. Arrived on board, a very unseemly dispute arose between some of the officers, resulting in Captain de R—— turning Major H—— out of the ship. TheLondondid not call anywhere going down Channel, strict orders having been given to her captain not to do so, in consequence of the number of desertions from theMelazzo. However, on touching at Gibraltar, several of the men had experienced discomfort enough, and some of those who had the means of reaching home left the ship there.
Arrived at Naples, a greater mistake than any that had yet occurred took place. The regiment, when assembled together, mustered about eight hundred very presentable young soldiers, well fitted in every way to give a good account of themselves, and such as any English officer would have been proud to lead into action. The question was, who would be the lucky English officer to whom the command would be given?
During the campaign of 1859, when the united French and Italian armies wrested Lombardy from the Austrians, Garibaldi had commanded a body of men who did excellent service, and obtained great renown as the Chasseurs des Alps—men who were now fighting with him in Sicily. Wherever Garibaldi went he was accompanied by an eccentric Englishman who was an excellent long shot with the rifle, and whose delight it was to "pot" off Austrians at incredible distances. He became famous for his skillin picking off Austrian officers, and was known as "Garibaldi's Englishman." When success attended Garibaldi's expedition to Sicily, his long-shooting Englishman joined him, and when the English volunteers were ready to leave Naples and take the field at the siege of Gaeta,Colonel"Long Shot" was placed in command—a man of execrable temper, and totally unfitted in every way to command anything, let alone a body of half-drilled, high-spirited young Englishmen. About the same time Major S—— was placed under arrest, and accused of having kept irregular accounts of the regimental monies that had passed through his hands.
Arrived at the front, the British legion were neglected in every way by the Italian troops. The Garibaldians were treated badly enough, but the Englishmen fared worse, and, being dependent upon the Italian commissariat, they came badly off. They were pushed well to the front to do the fighting, and did what little there was to do with credit to themselves and their country, but when supplies were wanted they were almost ignored.
Major H——, who had been turned ashore from theLondon, found his way to Naples, where, in the most resplendent of uniforms, he figured at thecafésandcasinosas colonel and commander-in-chief of an imaginary regiment of cavalry, which never reached more than himself and his orderly. After rendering himself the laughing-stock of all Naples, and giving rise to much unfavourable comment uponEnglishmen in general, and himself in particular, he disappeared from Naples, and went no one knows where, leaving behind as mementoes of the celebrated cavalry regiment various unpaid accounts.
After the fall of Gaeta, and the end of the war, the remains of this unfortunate British legion melted away, leaving many of their comrades behind, either having died in hospital or fallen beneath the enemy's fire.
Among the ranks of the British Legion was a young artist, who has since done good service for some of our illustrated papers in depicting battle scenes all over Europe. Mr. Vizitelli was that artist who received a wound in front of Gaeta, and who is one of the unfortunate band that accompanied Hicks Pascha to the Soudan, and about whose fate much anxiety now exists.
[G]See Appendix.
[G]See Appendix.
Floods in France—London—Back to the South—Marseilles—Italian Emigrant passengers—A death on board—Frenchimpolitesse—Italian coast scenery at dawn—Unlimited palaver—Arrival in Leghorn—TheLepanto—Departure—"Fair Florence"—The Arno—Streets—Palaces—San Miniato—The grand Duomo—The Baptistery—Ghiberti's Bronze Gates.
Floods in France—London—Back to the South—Marseilles—Italian Emigrant passengers—A death on board—Frenchimpolitesse—Italian coast scenery at dawn—Unlimited palaver—Arrival in Leghorn—TheLepanto—Departure—"Fair Florence"—The Arno—Streets—Palaces—San Miniato—The grand Duomo—The Baptistery—Ghiberti's Bronze Gates.
We had a very rough passage to Marseilles, and arrived five hours after time. I only stopped here one night, and hurried on through Paris to London. The lowlands of France were still under water, and the weather in England much the same as when I left it six weeks ago. After a sojourn of some weeks—
"In London, that great sea, whose ebb and flowAt once is deaf and loud,"
"In London, that great sea, whose ebb and flowAt once is deaf and loud,"
during which time the weather continued anything but agreeable, with bitterly cold winds and frequent rain, I started for the south once more, having arranged to meet my wife at Leghorn. I had hoped that Malta would have been mild and pleasant at this time of the year, but, as in most other places, the disastrous floods and phenomenal weather generally of 1882 had extended to March, 1883, even here, and she was not particularly sorry to leave the island,hoping to find an improvement in the climate on a second trip into Italy.
Crossing the Channel in fairly smooth water and with a clean sky, I began to hope a favourable change had really set in at last. Paris was very bright and pleasant. A political demonstration was expected here on the Sunday following the day of my arrival; but this was the greater reason for my hurrying away on the morning of that day, March 18th. It opened bright and frosty. The usual tedious journey of fifteen hours to Marseilles was quite pleasant, and without event. I was glad to hear that the day had passed over peaceably at Paris.
At Marseilles it was warm and sunny; and on Monday I embarked on board the Transatlantic steamer for Genoa. Knowing the little sympathy and friendly feeling there is on board French vessels for the English, I was glad to find two or three of my countrymen among the saloon passengers. The time of sailing arrived, but there was no sign of our leaving, and at last I found we were waiting for some three or four hundred Italian returning emigrants, whose vessel had come from the Brazils, and which was not yet released from quarantine. This prospect of waiting for some three or four hundred poor, dirty, sickly emigrants was not very lively, and this was rather disappointing, as it would probably interfere with my arrival at Leghorn at the time arranged. However, some four or five hours later their vessel came into the harbour, and they were brought alongside in severallarge barges—men, women, and children, with all their worldly goods, most of them returning poorer than when they had left their native land. They had a medley of souvenirs with them, parrots and other birds, and all kinds of gay garments—those land-sharks the Jews not even sparing these poor, pitiful emigrants, but doing their best to make them part with their little store of hard-earned savings, by offering them these gaudy articles of apparel, to cover or replace their own poor warm clothing. The long sea-voyage from the Brazils must have been very trying to these forlorn creatures, whose hopeless condition it was impossible to avoid sympathizing with and pitying. They appeared most eager to reach the shores of their own dear Italy once more—a fond hope and dream in foreign lands, now almost realized.
There was one poor old man, upwards of seventy years of age, who sat very still during all the exciting confusion of getting on board the steamer. He looked very ill, and I felt quite grateful to the fine, robust young man (whom I afterwards discovered was a perfect stranger to him) who most kindly took charge of him, and assisted him to climb the ship's ladder, which seemed to give him intense pain—indeed, he appeared scarcely able to move for agony. That night, while we were steaming away over the moonlit sea towards his native land, the poor old man entered on his long rest in a happier home above.
The rest of the emigrants seemed happy enough,though herding together like sheep—men, women, and children lying about the deck asleep. I thought it would have been as well to have separated them, and made the men strip, and given them the hose of cold water in the early morning, for they had evidently not removed their soiled and tattered garments for weeks; but probably the water would have proved too cold. I was the more fully convinced of the necessity of this cleansing process when, tired of the crowded confinement of the deck-space allotted to them, these poor emigrants gradually encroached on the precincts of the saloon, and a certain painful irritation of the skin unpleasantly reminded me of the fact. It was a pleasant sight, however, to see them enjoying their hot coffee and biscuits after their night's rest, and a more substantial breakfast later on in the forenoon. They were certainly well fed while on board.
We had a tolerably fair passage, which was fortunate, as I believe it would have been next door to impossible to have had proper control over our motley crew of passengers if any danger had arisen; moreover, the boats would have been utterly insufficient. Yet, although so fine, most of the passengers were obliged to leave the dinner-table, and return to their cabins. I was then a witness to the ill feeling of the French towards us, as adduced by their selfish neglect of my two English fellow-travellers; the doctor paid not the slightest attention to them, though it was clearly his duty to do so. I was glad,therefore, to be able to do what I could for them, and ordered one or two tempting things from the dinner-table to be set aside for them, which I afterwards took to them myself, incurring thereby the decided disfavour of the French officers, who churlishly resented what they considered my interference. Possibly it might have been against the rules of the vessel; still, I felt it to be only a simple and natural act of humanity towards my sick countrymen, since no one else appeared willing to trouble themselves in their behalf.
It was a lovely moonlight night as we coasted along the shore, and I walked the deck till long past midnight.
The next morning I was up at six, and awoke my companions, that they might share with me the beauty of the coast scenery, which we were passing in the early daylight:
"'Tis morn, and Nature's richest dyesAre floating o'er Italian skies;Tints of transparent lustre shineAlong the snow-clad Apennine."
"'Tis morn, and Nature's richest dyesAre floating o'er Italian skies;Tints of transparent lustre shineAlong the snow-clad Apennine."
It was all we could desire—a glorious sun, clear atmosphere, and genial, bracing air. How fair is Nature at this hour! "One drinks in the air by long draughts; the eyes seem to be intoxicated with the sun, the very soul to bathe in the glory of colour!"
Meanwhile, we have passed Fréjus, Nice, Villafranca, Antibes,—the old castle at Mentone projecting out into the sea; and now lovely Monte Carlo andMonaco are in view, nestling amidst terraces of orange and olive trees,—graceful palms lifting their heads here and there to the blue sky. Then a sterner and more imposing series of views, the coast-line more rugged and broken, as we gradually near the mountain ranges of the Alps and the Apennines, and approach the harbour of that magnificent city unrivalled indeed in the commanding grandeur of its situation—"Genova la Superba." I now quite realized that this glorious coast scenery must be seen from the sea, to understand and appreciate its special beauties.
As I had anticipated, the fussy and over-punctilious Italian sanitary officers demurred at admitting us to Pratique, and were about to put us in quarantine on account of the death of the poor emigrant, though it was clearly evidenced that he died from some organic disease. The poor emigrants were longing to get on shore and seek their homes once more, and I was most anxious to catch the train to Leghorn, to receive my wife on her arrival from Malta. Still, officer after officer came on board, and it was useless to chafe with impatience; they persisted in going through the whole of their tiresome, circumlocutory inquiries, and having their talk out: this aggravating palaver evidently being extended to magnify their office.
At last they came to the conclusion that we were entitled to a clean bill of health, and released us. I hurried on shore, and arrived at the station just tenminutes after my train had started. This was most provoking, but fortunately I found a little steamer of the Rubatino line, going to Leghorn that night, and at once engaged a passage in her. I found another Englishman on board, and as the little vessel rolled about in the trough of the sea, and there was therefore evidently little sleep to be got in our small cabins, we did our best to walk the deck till midnight; and then, with a "Good night," crawled into the confined cabins allotted to us, exercising, of course, the full privileges of Englishmen in a growl at the scanty accommodation.
Arriving at Leghorn the next morning at six, I found myself in rather an anxious predicament, for, havingplannedto arrive at Leghorn before my wife, I had not named any special hotel for our meeting; but owing to my having missed the train at Genoa, she had arrived before me, and where she had gone I knew not. However, trusting to her good sense and courage, I began my search with a light heart; and, after two unsuccessful attempts, was rejoiced to find her all safe. Like myself, she had experienced rather rough weather on her passage from Malta; but had appreciated the little breaks in the voyage afforded by the vessel stopping at Catania, Messina, and Naples.
On exploring the town a little after breakfast, we caught a glimpse of the great ironcladLepanto, which the Italians had just launched, and a great unwieldy monster she looked.
Leghorn is a dead and alive sort of place, and we had no inclination to remain there; so took the 10.45 train to Florence, at which city we arrived safely in the evening, and proceeded at once to the Hotel de Russie.
I had always had a great longing to see Florence, the home of Italian genius:
"Florence! beneath the sun,Of cities fairest one."
"Florence! beneath the sun,Of cities fairest one."
Rain had fallen pretty freely here as elsewhere, and for the first few days we had to take advantage of every gleam of sunshine to obtain an outing.
Florence is divided into two parts by the Arno; the northern side is the oldest part, and contains the best hotels and restaurants. From one window we saw the yellow river rushing tumultuously over the artificial weirs that are built to prevent its unhealthy stagnation. Across thisunpoeticalriver are several stone bridges; the central one, which is something like old London Bridge, is almost covered with houses, chiefly small jewellers'. Artists consider that this adds to the picturesqueness of the river, but I would have preferred a clear view up to the mountains at its head. It is a very interesting city, with its narrow streets, quaint buildings, piazzas, and monuments of ancient glory. There are two or three rather fine streets leading from the railway station, and culminating in the Cathedral Piazza. These contain several noble palatial residences of the ancient nobility, massively built of great rough-hewn stones, attached to whichare large iron rings with holders for torches, and at the corners antique iron frames to hold lanterns, showing how the city was lighted in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. It was curious to notice the great overhanging roofs, probably intended to give shade to the passers-by. As at Genoa, these buildings usually have the coronet and arms of their noble owners over the porch. The principal streets are sufficiently wide to allow of two carriages passing, and yet leave room for pedestrians; but, properly speaking, there are few regular foot-pavements. The shops are all one can wish, thecafésand restaurants being particularly conspicuous.
Crossing the river to the south side by one of the suspension bridges, we had some very pretty peeps at the valley; then, mounting up to the well-planned and finely terraced Boboli Gardens, and up to the interesting church and cemetery of San Miniato, we obtained magnificent views of the whole city, and the beautiful valley and plains in which it reposes. The interior of San Miniato is now used as a kind of Campo Santo, and has frescoed walls and an exquisitely wrought screen and pulpit; there are also several paintings attributed to Spinello Aretino.
The Cathedral is of course the centre of life, as in all Italian cities, and this reminds me of a beautiful thought in reference to this grand and splendid duomo of Florence: "It was designed by the Republic to be the largest and most sumptuous building that could be invented, in order that it might correspond with avery great heart—because originated in the mind of most of the citizens united together in one will." This was indeed a noble and Christian sentiment!
It is in the Italian-Gothic style—a great casket of black and white marble, beautified by many exquisite traceries and statues. The noble dome is finely proportioned, but looks almost small amidst the great pile of buildings around it, and by the graceful square Campanile rising proudly beside it. The porches have arches most curiously but daintily traced and twisted, the outline of the building putting one in mind of some exquisite Indian work of ivory, inlaid with silver. Altogether it is a strikingly handsome Duomo, and when the façade is completed, I doubt if there is another in Italy of the kind to compare with it, always excepting the beautiful and unique St. Mark's at Venice. It is, however, somewhat too closely surrounded by shops and other buildings. The interior is vast, grand, and impressive, but very cold and gloomy. The choir is octagonal, enclosed by an Ionic colonnade, and corresponds in shape with the dome above, which is double, one dome within another; the inner one is painted with frescoes by Vasari and Zacchero. From the pavement to the top of the cross it is 380 feet. The beautiful Campanile tower is encased with strips of differently coloured marbles, adorned with bas-reliefs and statues. It is 269 feet in height, being ascended by some 415 steps. The view from the top is very extensive. The adjacent Baptistery is on the site ofthe Temple of Mars. It is an octagonal building of the thirteenth century, and is chiefly remarkable for the beauty of Ghiberti's great bronze gates, representing scripture scenes.
"Ghiberti left behind him wealth and children;But who would know to-day that he had livedIf he had never made those gates of bronzeIn the old Baptistery—those gates of bronzeWorthy to be the gates of Paradise?His wealth is scattered to the winds, his childrenAre long since dead; but those celestial gatesSurvive, and keep his name and memory green."
"Ghiberti left behind him wealth and children;But who would know to-day that he had livedIf he had never made those gates of bronzeIn the old Baptistery—those gates of bronzeWorthy to be the gates of Paradise?His wealth is scattered to the winds, his childrenAre long since dead; but those celestial gatesSurvive, and keep his name and memory green."
There are also some very fine mosaics in the interior, but unfortunately the darkness prevents their being properly seen. The only way to see anything of them is to go into the darkest corner, shutting your eyes, and then, opening them, look up at the dome suddenly. All the children in the city are baptized here, the water being blessed by the bishop twice a year. There is much of ancient interest around this old Baptistery; indeed, in all places where the Romans have been, one cannot but feel the presence of a mighty nation. So also with the Greeks; they leave traces of a refined intellect behind them which centuries cannot entirely efface.
Santa Croce—San Lorenzo—DayandNight—Picture-galleries—The Tribune—Venus de' Medici—Excursion to Fiesole—Ancient Amphitheatre—AuroraCafé—Climate of Florence—Heavy hotel charges—Departure—Bologna sausages—Venice.
Santa Croce—San Lorenzo—DayandNight—Picture-galleries—The Tribune—Venus de' Medici—Excursion to Fiesole—Ancient Amphitheatre—AuroraCafé—Climate of Florence—Heavy hotel charges—Departure—Bologna sausages—Venice.
The church of Santa Croce—the Westminster Abbey of Italy—possesses great interest to every classical student and lover of art and genius. It is situated within a few minutes' walk of the Cathedral in its own piazza, in the centre of which stands the striking monument and statue of the intensely thoughtful Dante, by Canova:
"In Santa Croce's holy precincts lieAshes which make it holier, dust which isEven in itself an immortality.Though there were something save the past, and thisThe particles of those sublimitiesWhich have relapsed to chaos:—here reposeAngelo's, Alfieri's bones, and hisThe starry Galileo, with his woes;Here Machiavelli's earth returned to whence it rose.These are four minds, which, like the elements,Might furnish forth creation:—Italy!Time, which hath wronged thee with ten thousand rentOf thine imperial garment, shall deny,And hath denied, to every other skySpirits which soar from ruin:—thy decayIs still impregnant with divinity,Which gilds it with revivifying ray;Such as the great of yore, Canova is to-day."
"In Santa Croce's holy precincts lieAshes which make it holier, dust which isEven in itself an immortality.Though there were something save the past, and thisThe particles of those sublimitiesWhich have relapsed to chaos:—here reposeAngelo's, Alfieri's bones, and hisThe starry Galileo, with his woes;Here Machiavelli's earth returned to whence it rose.
These are four minds, which, like the elements,Might furnish forth creation:—Italy!Time, which hath wronged thee with ten thousand rentOf thine imperial garment, shall deny,And hath denied, to every other skySpirits which soar from ruin:—thy decayIs still impregnant with divinity,Which gilds it with revivifying ray;Such as the great of yore, Canova is to-day."
The façade of Santa Croce, like that of the Cathedral, is finely encased with marble; but it is the interior that excites such deep interest in the mind; the many fine monuments, and the beautiful sculptures on the tombs of the great and illustrious men whom Italy has had the honour to call her children. In this she is indeed rich among nations. The church contains a great number of chapels, some large, some small, but all possessing paintings, sculptures, mosaics, and monuments of interest.
In the Church of San Lorenzo are the stately mausoleums of the Medici. The Capella dei Deposite, or Chapel of the Buried, was designed by Michael Angelo, on purpose to contain his two celebrated statues of Giuliano and Lorenzo di Medici. At the feet of Giuliano rest the recumbent figures, Day and Night; of the latter, the great Angelo wrote—