1854.XCI.
Marseilles,February 27, 1854.
My apology for not writing since my departure for Europe, in November last, is of the most plausible nature. I have been under the care of two of the most scientific oculists of Paris for the past six weeks, for the relief of a species of ophthalmy, produced by the excessive glare of light, and fine dust during my journeyings in Spain last year. Finding myself partially relieved, and once again on my winding way, I will briefly state that less than a month had elapsed from the time I stepped on board the fleet and gorgeous steamer Arctic, for Liverpool, before I found myself in the great Babylon of modern times, London.
After a hasty visit to the manufacturing establishments of Manchester and Bradford, looking in upon the famous steelworks of Sanderson & Son, and the cutlery shops and depots of Joseph Rodgers & Son (both of Sheffield), spending a Sabbath in the old city of York, and enjoying the chanting of melodious voices, from a numerous choir in its much renowned Cathedral, I made an excursion to a cheese fair, where I found John Bull up to his shoulders in tons of choice Cheshire and Stilton.
The powerful agency of steam, and the perfection of the railway system, soon transported me across England to the eastern counties, the land of my ancestors, famed for its agriculture and game; thence to Yarmouth, the old town celebrated for its fisheries and sea-bathing, with its labyrinths of lanes, numbering from one to a hundred, through its very centre; only accessible for donkeys and foot passengers, impenetrable to foes without, and impracticable to home police in case of revolt. The herring fisheries were prodigious, and I recognised the cut of the Hollanders, who were attracted thither with their vessels. Providence in his wisdom had caused the ocean to yield a substitute for that which the soil this year refused, and in return for ingratitude the surplus was thrown upon the land.
Several excursions were made from the city of Norfolk to the farms of some of the branches bearing our family name, over well macadamized roads, and through highly cultivated grounds, surrounded with hawthorn hedges, inclosing herds of Devonshire, Hereford, and other famous breeds of cattle, not forgetting the flocks of Southdown and Leicester sheep, feeding from hurdles, upon the large Ruta Baga turnip; the scenery is interspersed with game forests belonging to the lords and nobility; they were delightful to the eye. But it was necessary to look further, and inquire into the working of the system. The products of the country bring high prices, but tithes and taxes reduce them. Labor is ill rewarded, and the distinction between the rich and the respectable poor is too strongly marked. The cry is for reform, and the British Parliament will be obliged to listen to it. One of the parties whom I visited pays eighty pounds, or four hundred dollars, church-tithes annually, in lieu of one-tenth part of the crop, and without the enjoyment of any of the advantages, for he is of the reformed religion, and has a small church upon his grounds.
The season was cold and wet, unfavorable for a long sojourn in England. I remained some ten days in London, revisiting some of the public monuments and works of art, which I had formerly described to you; also, the famous brewery establishments of Barclay, Perkins & Co., and Henry Meux & Co., which are among the great sights of the metropolis; the former, particularly, has been visited by thousands of strangers since the expulsion of Gen. Haynau, the Austrian butcher, by Barclay & Perkins’s draymen.
These works are gigantic, covering several acres of ground, and employing millions of capital. The quantity of ale manufactured on the average is equal to a thousand barrels (of thirty-six gallons) each per day; the gross quantity is four hundred thousand barrels each per annum, which enters into ordinary consumption, as ale and porter are the general beverage of the nation, and its first source of revenue under the excise is the malt and hop-tax. It is curious to look over the stables of one hundred and fifty of their mammoth dray-horses; the name of each is lettered over the stall. A small engine is used for cutting hay and straw, and cracking the grain, for feeding.
I attended the Smithfield Cattle Show, which gave me anopportunity of seeing the finest specimens of English and Scotch fat cattle, of the choicest breeds I had ever seen, the famous heifer of Wm. H. Worrall, of Dutchess county, being the only exception for her age. Prince Albert took the first prize for the finest exhibit of pigs.
Having attended the State Fair at Saratoga last autumn, I was better enabled to judge of our Poultry Show, which certainly compared favorably with the exhibition which took place while I was in Norfolk. The drove of Kentucky cattle, after a long drive to Saratoga, will be admitted by those who saw them to have been a beautiful sight, and gratifying to American pride.
Having made a sort of pilgrimage through one branch of my ancestry, I was anxious to visit in detail the work of another branch, the Guy Hospital in London, founded by Thomas Guy, whose honored name I bear. This noble Institution, one of the most celebrated in the world for its usefulness, was founded in 1722, upon a gigantic scale, in the Borough, across London Bridge. The founder, a bachelor, who had amassed a large fortune in trade and in the South Sea Expedition, conceived the laudable project of establishing an institution for all time, for the relief of suffering humanity. The buildings are airy and spacious, the residences of the governors exceedingly comfortable. He lived to complete the work, and enjoy the pleasure of its fruits for some twenty years, leaving an endowment of two hundred thousand pounds. The grounds have been enlarged, and new structures have been added with all the recent improvements for heat as well as ventilation, and it is now capable of containing from three hundred to four hundred patients, with a degree of comfort and cleanliness almost equal to a well regulated hotel. A small lunatic asylum, separate and distinct, is within the grounds, inclosed. The museum is a collection of wax figures, for the use of medical students, portraying almost all the diseases to which the human family is liable; it is a separate building, and is equal in merit to the famed exhibitions which I had visited in Montpelier in France, and Florence and Bologna in Italy. The institution is in the most flourishing condition, thanks to the legacy of the generous Mr. Brooks, who left it his entire fortune, upwards of a million of dollars. Medicines are distributed to all who apply, which privilege is abused, as Inoticed in attendance, in airy, comfortable halls, in one wing of the buildings, seated upon benches, scores of men, women, and children, many even handsomely dressed, who, through avarice, avail themselves of this charity; but the will of the testator must be observed.
Notwithstanding the agitation of the Oriental Question, and the high price of provisions, I found Paris in the midst of its holiday festivities. The government understands so well the wants and desires of the small dealers in fancy articles, that all sorts of amusements are encouraged, whereby money is put in circulation. Several magnificent balls have been given by the Emperor at the Tuileries. The Municipality of Paris has also given grand balls at the Hotel de Ville. Masquerade balls take place weekly at the Grand Opera. The condition of my eyes prevented my joining in many of the gaieties of Paris. The evening of my presentation, however, to the Emperor and Empress, I assisted at the Court Dress Ball at the Tuileries, where were present some three thousand persons, and it was certainly the most brilliant affair I had ever seen in Europe before. We were some twenty-five persons in the saloon adjoining the imperial apartments, awaiting a special presentation; after which, following in the train of the ladies of honor to the grand saloon of the Marshals, the dense multitude opening in line, we formed ourselves in front of a sort of throne, with an orchestra for the music alone. Their Imperial Majesties being seated, were surrounded by the ex-king Jerome Bonaparte, the Grand Duchess of Baden, and other distinguished members of royalty. The Emperor opened the ball with the wife of the Ambassador of Belgium, the Empress dancing with the Minister of Austria; the quadrille was made up by the Minister of Finance, Mr. Fould, and Marshal Magnan, and their partners. The dance then became general in the vast saloons adjoining, and the music of an additional fanciful kind. Waltzing was followed by beautiful young ladies and their cavaliers, who aspired to the privilege of displaying themselves in the presence of the Imperial group. The vast gilded saloons of this immense palace were brilliantly illuminated from suspended candelabra; the great variety of uniforms, Military, Naval, Diplomatique and Civil, Turkish, Greek, and Hungarian, and others, with the rich costly robes of the ladies, certainly presented one of the most magnificent spectaclesthe eye could behold; diamonds, emeralds, rubies, and other precious gems, were dazzling to one’s eyes.
Mr. Mason, our Minister, appeared in court dress, notwithstanding the request of Secretary Marcy to all diplomatic functionaries to appear only in plain garb, which instruction should have been made positive, if made at all, and it would not have led to the unpleasant incidents already experienced by our representatives.
As simple citizens of the Republic, we must subscribe to the rules of foreign courts, or exclude ourselves from such festivities; consequently necessity obliged me to take my rank as aide-de-camp, with a sword and chapeau. One of the most “observed of all observers,” was a German Prince, the Duke of Brunswick, who was a burlesque on royalty. He wore a peruque with curls, thick rouge on his face, a court dress emblazoned with gold and precious stones; white doe-skins, with diamond knee-buckles; silk stockings, and pumps with diamond shoe-buckles; his epaulettes were of topaz and diamonds, the scabbard and hilt of his sword were of gold, beset with emeralds, rubies, and brilliants; his breast was covered with orders and massive gold chains, encircled with gems; even his chapeau was decorated in like manner. In a word, he was an eccentric, and in my eyes a vain and conceited personage.
The early refreshment saloons, and the two o’clock supper halls at the two extreme ends of the banquet rooms, were visited by the imperial party, after which they retired.
The entertainment was sumptuous, and what might be expected from imperial munificence, with the art and taste of the Frenchcuisine.
From Paris to Chalons, by railway, eleven hours’ ride, a night’s repose, and eight hours’ descent of the Saone by steamer, through what would be a picturesque country at a more favorable feature of the year, and one finds himself at the great silk manufacturing city of Lyons.
The navigation of the Rhone was interrupted by low water. Last year I made half the distance to Avignon by steamer at the same season; now I had no recourse except a twenty-four hours’ ride in the diligence; two hours’ additional by railroad brought me to this commercial city of Marseilles for the fourth time. Of course I have nothing new to offer you.
I propose visiting two islands of the Mediterranean, which I have not seen, and of which little is known by travellers. The first, Corsica, which gave birth to Napoleon, is improving; but the other island, Sardinia, remains in a primitive state, so I shall probably meet with something that will interest you.
Ajaccio, Island of Corsica,March 12, 1854.
I wrote you from Marseilles, the great southern commercial port of France, where much activity prevailed at this season among the vessels, in consequence of the excessive imports of grain, through the failure of the French harvest. I responded to the civilities of our Consul, in dining with our Chargé d’Affaires from Naples, and embarked the following day for Porto Torres, a small seaport upon the island of Sardinia, a distance of some two hundred and fifty miles, by steamer, touching at Corsica. A heavy sea and head wind delayed us; the journey occupied some thirty hours. Thence I proceeded to the principal city, which is called Sassari, and contains a population of some twenty thousand persons.
I found the people more benighted than in any of the other islands of the Mediterranean I had yet seen.
The population of the entire island is estimated at three hundred and fifty thousand; its length is one hundred and fifty miles, and it is from sixty to eighty miles in width. It belongs to the kingdom of Sardinia. The peasantry live in villages, and, not unlike those of the interior of the island of Sicily, go long distances to cultivate the soil, and may be seen at early morn in their coarse black cloaks, with hoods as substitutes for hats, and dark leggings below white cotton pants extending to the knees, trudging out with their donkeys, which bear their implements of husbandry.
The women and children, while watching their flocks of sheep and goats, have a sort of distaff in their hands, and spin with their fingers the coarse wool which serves for their rude covering.
In the mountains large numbers are found who have no habitations, and live in a state of barbarism, covering themselves with skins, bruising grain between two flat stones, and makinga sort of paste which is cooked upon the ground, after the fashion of the Arabs on the desert sands.
The country is infested with bandits. Game is abundant, and fire-arms are kept by all who can afford them. Life is unsafe, and comforts are scarcely known in the cities; certainly not outside of them.
The roads are somewhat protected by gens d’armes, who are useful in pursuing the banditti. We picked up eighteen gens d’armes on the road; they say that the bandits fly at their approach, but if cornered, fight desperately.
My casual travelling companion was going to see a person under sentence of death for the murder of his brother; the culprit was in his employ and confidence, but he basely shot him in the back while they were riding their horses quietly along the road. My companion’s object was to ascertain what induced the commission of the crime. The custom is to execute the criminal, if possible, upon the spot where the assassination was committed.
The soil is fertile, but poorly cultivated, and thinly inhabited. The island has but little commerce. The olive groves look well, and furnish oil in abundance. Cork forests abound.
The town of Sassari is encircled with walls and gates; the streets are narrow, and badly paved; the houses are of stone, lofty, but filthy; the inhabitants are dirty. A very small portion of the people seem in easy circumstances. They have a theatre, which is not indifferent, as all the Italian races must have an opera. The cathedral, built in the thirteenth century, is the only respectable monument of antiquity which I found.
The clergy swarm, the profession being resorted to as a military exemption, and more profitable than that, without regard to fitness or qualification; consequently they have a bad reputation.
I could not have believed that I should have found, in such proximity to the continent, a people so behind the age, and so far below the standard even of the Corsicans under French rule.
I was not sorry to escape and get to this place, some seventy miles by water, where one finds the journals from the continent, and a much higher state of civilization, and where fire-arms are prohibited, which is producing great changes in the habits of the people.
Ajaccio is situated upon a gulf of some ten miles in depth; it has about fifteen thousand inhabitants, and contains some fine public buildings; unfortunately, however, it has but little commerce. It is the birthplace of Napoleon, who is the pride of the Corsicans. The house where the hero was born still stands in an obscure part of the old town, upon a little square called Piazza Letizia. It was in those days considered a fine edifice. The identical spot is shown, and the circumstances related of his birth, on the return of his mother from the solemnities of the mass on Assumption Day, 15th August, 1769. The property has been purchased by the present Emperor of France, who has appointed a person to guard it, and preparations are now being made for its restoration.
The family of Bonaparte was of the ancient nobility, and originated in Florence, Italy. Charles Bonaparte, the father, was appointed Deputy of the nobles of Corsica, in 1779, and died in Montpelier, France, in 1785, being only 38 years of age. His wife, Letitia Burnolino, born in 1750, gave birth to thirteen children, all born here; five died young, and the remaining eight comprised one emperor, three kings, one prince, one queen, and two princesses.
A monument has been erected in the public square, to Napoleon, by his nephew, Napoleon III., since his elevation in France.
The Hotel de Ville contains the portraits of the family, and a good life-like statue in marble, of Jerome, while king of Westphalia.
In the Grotto Napoleon, about a mile from the town, after winding through olive-groves, the ambitious boy delighted to pursue his youthful studies.
The public promenades, adorned with orange trees and almonds in bloom, the gardens filled with olives and a profusion of tropical fruits, afford a grateful sight, after escaping from the chilling winds of the continent.
All through the south of France I had noticed great activity in the movement of troops for embarkation for the East. In descending the Saone, our steamer’s deck was occupied by the conscripts, mostly young men, who were leaving home and quiet occupations for the first time perhaps, for the uncertain chances of war. They are distributed to points where actualduty is not required, replacing well-formed troops who are sent to the seat of war. Some thousands who had been held in reserve until needed are now sent from Corsica for the marine and land service.
Under the French system, every able-bodied male is liable to army duty, at twenty-one years of age. On a certain day, which is publicly proclaimed, the parties draw for their chances. In the absence of the young man, his mother or some other authorized person draws for him. He is then liable, and when the call is made he must either supply his place or serve; even after an absence of years, on his return, he is seized for the service. Eighty thousand men are thus drawn annually; the term of duty is seven years. The necessities of the nation have not required the number drawn; but now the balance or reserve of four or five years past is called upon here, more particularly to fortify the marine. The Corsicans from the mountains make good soldiers, and distinguish themselves as officers, and are a brave and warlike people. The sea-coast furnishes good sailors.
It is curious to observe the difference in the habits, customs, and governments of two islands which at their extreme points nearly touch each other, at least by a chain of small islands. In Sardinia the language is a patois, and changes in character from one point to another, partaking strongly of the Italian on one side; partially of the Arabic in the south; and in the west slightly of the Spanish; while here the French is commonly understood, though the Italian patois is the language of the people. But what can be expected where every restriction is placed upon communication?
I had my passport examined andviséfive times in Sardinia, at considerable expense, notwithstanding it bore the Ambassador’s visé of the kingdom of Sardinia at Paris, for which he had exacted his fee. All these checks upon intercourse, and these annoyances, only tend to put a little pocket-money into the hands of officials.
In Sardinia, tobacco is cultivated, but the Government seizes the product, and pays its price. The sale of cigars is a monopoly, consequently the quality is very bad, and the prices are double those of this place, where the people are exempt from the tax which exists on the article there, and also in France.
I was strongly reminded of the Basque provinces in the northof Spain, at Bilboa and St. Sebastian, where the people enjoy a similar privilege in the free sale and manufacture of the weed. There, as here, the poor employ themselves in making cigars, which are superior to those for which you pay double at the government shops on the peninsula. The consequence is that everybody smokes by common consent.
One of the most remarkable features in the Corsican race is the spirit of vengeance, which for centuries has existed among them, and which is most difficult to eradicate. Thanks to the government of the emperor, the carrying of arms is strictly prohibited here, and eight thousand gens d’armes are scattered over an island three hundred and sixty miles in circumference.
A most salutary, but arbitrary law, applicable to the case, arrests and imprisons the parents, family, and friends of an outlaw or bandit who has fled to the mountains, or is concealed. In this way his maintenance is cut off; and a reward is offered for his head. Frequent instances have been known where persons have harbored bandits through fear, and have performed the execution of the law, and divided the reward with the gend’armerie.
Instances were not rare, before such rigorous measures were adopted, of sending anonymous letters demanding sums of money, or submission to the consequences. Families exterminated each other. The mother guarded sacredly the linen of a murdered husband, until her son was capable of resenting the act, when his vengeance was excited by the blood-stained garment of the father. A gentleman acquaintance informed me, that when he came on the island, some years since, he gave a little soirée, to which were invited theéliteof the little town where he resided. His daughter had misplaced her handkerchief; observing another upon a hat, she took it up and discovered pistols, and could not conceive the object. When the party retired, the report of fire-arms was heard in all directions. The friends and servants of the parties opposed had chosen the opportunity for revenge.
This characteristic is said to have existed since the wars with the Genoese, and the feuds that grew out of those contests.
The people are hospitable and civil, and a stranger can now travel over the island in perfect safety, if he comports himself properly, and avoids exciting their prejudices.
Steam communication with the continent, and the light of civilization, are producing considerable changes in the condition of this people.
Bastia, Island of Corsica,March 24, 1854.
Having secured my place in the coupé, or front seat, of a small and rather rickety diligence, I started for Corte, a military station and town of some five thousand inhabitants, about the centre of the island, passing through a picturesque and mountainous country, some three thousand to four thousand feet above the level of the sea; the road was in good condition, but at times, in winter, it is impassable for the snow.
The mountain tops and tall pine forests, still covered with their white mantles, in striking contrast with the bloom and verdure of the valleys below, spread out like a map, presenting new beauties at each turn of the vehicle in ascending the zigzag route, upon the amphitheatred walled roads.
The Corsicans, under their great leader Paolo, defended themselves nobly in these mountain passes against their invaders, the Genoese; the loss of the French troops, before they were conquered, was estimated at twelve thousand men.
Aside from the temperature, I was forcibly reminded of the kingdom of Kandy in the island of Ceylon, which is about an equal distance from the coast, in the mountains, and which could not be conquered by the English until roads were constructed for the transportation of their troops.
The hardy Corsican mountaineers subsist upon the chestnuts which abound here; a species of cake, or bread, made from the flour, is their only aliment, aside from the milk of their sheep or goats. The skins and wool supply their covering; the cheese and surplus chestnuts are bartered in the towns for wine, and what they consider the luxuries of life. The varied temperature enables them to produce wine of good quality, olive oil, figs, oranges, raisins, lemons, apples, pears, and nectarines; but, in general, the Corsicans are not ambitious in culture, contenting themselves with small tracts of land; the necessaries of life are few indeed.
They are great aspirants for position in military pursuits, persevering and indomitable, and frequently rise to rank in the French army. Most of the villages can boast of one or more of their members who have distinguished themselves.
Notwithstanding all the efforts of government, assassinations are still committed, and the old family spirit of vengeance cannot be fully appeased; some important cases among the upper classes are now pending.
At a village in the mountains, where we halted, a case had recently occurred. A party of eight or ten were at play, of which they are fond, when an altercation took place; two of the number left, the landlord discharging a double-barrelled gun as they left the house; he deliberately reloaded, in the presence of the others, and, accusing a third of taking part in the affray, shot him dead; he then loaded again, embraced his family, and escaped in the mountains. The magistrate of the district, questioning those present, and calling them cowards, asked them why they did not prevent the crime; they replied that the persons assaulted were not friends or relatives of theirs.
In the vicinity of Corte there are some valuable quarries of blue marble. The Palais de Justice, now being erected here, has large and massive columns of that material transported thence.
From Corte, the road passes to the north-western part of the island, and to this place.
Bastia, a small and indifferent port, now in process of improvement, is a city possessing a population of some twenty-five thousand, heterogeneous races; it is the chief commercial point of the island, and the seat of government.
The old town, with its lofty stone buildings, narrow tortuous streets, built upon the hill-side, and rising from the water’s edge, is really curious; it reminded me of the Grecian island of Scios, and Joppa in Palestine, resembling at certain points a town of stairs.
The new part of the town struck me with astonishment; it had broad streets, with mammoth stone structures, five stories high, cream yellow, and white, with modern green sashes; a new public square, and a handsome Italian marble statue of Napoleon; good hotels, cafés, and baths; markets, finely supplied with fish, game, and fruits; besides a delightful climate, protected bythe mountains from the northern blasts. It struck me as a sort of paradise, after what I had seen in the interior.
The secret of its prosperity is its trade with Leghorn and Marseilles, and it being the residence of a race possessing considerable enterprise. Many persons from Cape Corte, just above, and here also, have made fortunes in the West Indies.
The views from the heights, upon the Mediterranean, with the islands of Cabraya, Elba, and Monte Cristo, are very pretty, and a drive along the coast, bordered by amphitheatred walls for the culture of the grape and olive, is not without interest.
A few leagues from town, upon the mountain side, somewhat elevated, is a curious cave, much resorted to, and particularly worthy of a visit, since it is one of the most unique of its kind that I have ever seen. I taxed my memory to find something to compare with it; it is not the cave of Matanzas in extent, neither is it that of the island of Curaçoa, nor the Catacombs of Egypt, nor the Salt Mines of Cracow, which two latter are works of art; but it is a perfect gem of a grotto. At this season of the year it is very dry. It is private property, belonging to a government officer, who has erected near by a stone cottage with stalactite chimney-pieces of beautiful proportions, and miniature flower gardens among the rocks, and an observatory with a delightful prospect upon the sea and fishing villages; it is a rustic retreat for parties of pleasure in summer from Bastia. The grotto at its entrance is walled, and the door is bolted. Its guardian, for an established fee, will light it up with forty lamps; its depth is about one hundred and fifty feet. Stalactites form there in summer from the dripping of the water. The great variety of forms presented is really enchanting. One imagines himself for the moment in the illuminated chapel of a Gothic cathedral, with pillars supporting the roof, the half-formed pointed column rising gradually by crystallization, resembling with its lamp a huge church candlestick; the flowing white drapery falls upon the tomb of the departed, and the weeping willow is seen with its drooping branches. Forms the most grotesque are presented to the imagination. The stalactites are as white as alabaster; one could visit the cave without soiling his white kid gloves.
In going to the grotto, we leave the carriage road, which is only partially completed, and take the mule path for nearly aleague, passing through the fishing village of Brando, where stands a small church dedicated to their saint, Our Lady of the Vasina, to whom annual pilgrimages are made on the 7th of September. The sailors of the island, in cases of peril or extreme danger, make certain vows; and it is curious to see the results and read the names and circumstances as related by each. The walls are curiously carved with figures and scenes. Here may be found an exploded gun, with a description of the miraculous escape of the holder by the intervention of the patron saint; white robes, and satin shoes, wreaths of flowers, and other insignia of the funeral rites displayed by females saved from the tomb at the last moment; representations of narrow escapes from shipwreck, the angry waves lashing the frail bark, the lightning falling upon the masts, and the Virgin appearing and conducting the vessel in safety; one person is falling from a citadel; others are escaping from the monsters of the deep.
They have a curious custom here, which would not answer in our country of progress. Their houses are of stone, and lofty, from four to five stories high, and arched throughout, little timber being used other than for flooring. Consequently fires are unknown. The contractor puts up his building, and sells the different stories, whereby there are as many owners as stories; the stairing is in common, consequently neglected and filthy. The gaping, dark entrances, without doors, in the night, seem to invite the perpetration of crime.
The modern buildings have doors, which are closed at night, as in Ajaccio, where assassinations drove the mayor to the issue of a general order for front doors, without exception.
I was strolling quietly last Saturday, which was Beggars’ Day, the only time in the week the police allow that class to ask alms publicly, amusing myself in distributing among a group of urchins a quantity of chestnut-flour cakes, which they were looking wistfully upon, when I found myself surrounded by a crowd of beggars, old, infirm, and lame, in tattered and torn rags, or garments of many colors. Distributing my coppers among them, I was glad to escape, and soon found myself near the entrance gate of the city.
Upon looking up, I saw the Republican motto, effaced under the Empire, but still peeping through—“Liberté, Egalité, Fraternité.”
Conviction, the most positive, strikes the mind, of the entire incapacity of such masses of ignorance, superstition, and poverty to appreciate the blessings of pure republicanism, as it is enjoyed in our favored land.
Their republicanism means license and anarchy. The moral and social condition of the people must first be improved, and the blessings of general education diffused; their early prejudices for monarchy must first be eradicated. In a word, to be a good republican, one must be educated, or driven by the tyranny of rulers to adopt a home in a country where the rights of all classes are respected.
The surplus agricultural population of the Italian states of Parma, Modena, and Lucca, migrate after the harvest to this island, where there is a demand for manual labor. They are now returning in swarms with their hard-earned savings out of thirty sous per day. It is computed that some twenty thousand visit the island annually; and being exceedingly frugal, they take considerable sums away with them, which helps to impoverish the people here.
Having seen the birthplace of Napoleon, as described in my last letter, from Ajaccio, and being familiar with most of the localities of his exploits, I cannot resist visiting his place of imprisonment upon the island of Elba. There are also extensive iron mines, which are represented as very remarkable.
Sienna, Italy,April 7, 1854.
I reached Leghorn just in time to catch the little steamer Gilio, of one hundred and fifty tons burden, which composes the entire Tuscan government marine, with the exception of a few small feluccas. She makes regular trips to the island of Elba, for the conveyance of troops and their supplies. After passing the usual strict examination at the Custom House for the contraband articles of cigars and fire-arms, as Leghorn is a free port, and going through the farce of signing passports, I embarked for Porto Ferrayo. This strongly fortified place bears some resemblance to Malta, and appears almost impregnable; the streets are well paved with flat stones; the houses rise uponthe side hill, and are approached by flights of stairs and passages; the crown of the lofty, craggy cliffs is surmounted by immense fortifications, well mounted and manned. The town has a population of five thousand, and about one thousand troops. By means of a fosse, the tide-water is permitted to surround the city. From an angle of the wall on the summit of the citadel is a small observatory, erected by Napoleon, which gave him views from all points of the compass. The house where he lived, a few miles from the city, still stands, and is now the property of Prince Demidoff, who is erecting a palace which will contain all the relics which have been preserved of the Emperor. The island of Elba is only about sixty miles in circumference, and about fourteen hundred troops are kept there by the Tuscan government. The bays and shores are picturesque, and the valleys are fertile. There is great suffering this year in consequence of the failure of the grape, wine being their principal resource. I procured a conveyance to Longone, a free port on the south side of the island, now a fishing town. The immense citadel commanding the height was built by the Spaniards while in possession. It is now dismantled, and unoccupied, except as barracks for the land guard, and is fast going to decay, looking mournful and desolate. Trees are growing where once was heard the busy tread of the military, and goats are feeding and cabbages growing where once was piled the shot for the enemy. From Longone to Rio there is no carriage road, so I mounted a pony, with a guide to run beside him, and passed over a path through a hilly country, to the great iron mines. I had heard of the richness and abundance of the ore; I had seen the extensive mines of Dannemora, also mines in England and America, where the work is mostly subterranean; but was not prepared to find an inexhaustible mountain of iron, where three hundred men were employed in cutting down and blasting out the ore, which ranges in richness from forty-five to eighty per cent.; four hundred donkeys were wending their way by zigzag paths, laden with this valuable product.
The village has an active appearance, but is of a dirty red color; there were vast inclosures for the ore, like huge coalyards, where it was piled preparatory to loading for different ports for smelting. The brick-dust colored earth, which remains after the excavation, has a shining and dazzling appearance,from the particles of minerals in it. The gardens of the valleys on the margin of a small rivulet, with their orange and lemon trees, form a striking contrast in the view. The Grand Duke farms out the privilege to a company for twelve millions of livres, about one million eight hundred thousand dollars. From Elba I returned to Leghorn, which city has been materially improved and enlarged since my last visit; but being still in a state of siege, and protected by Austrian troops, the same civil liberties are not enjoyed there as formerly. The little island of Monte Cristo, lying sixty miles north of Elba, is thirteen miles in circumference. It has been purchased by a wealthy Englishman, who has retired thither with his family, and is now erecting his buildings upon it, employing many Italians from the mainland in carrying out his improvements. He is building a yacht at Leghorn, after the model of the America, and putting in an engine, which will be a pretty affair. From Leghorn by railway a half hour’s ride brings us to the old city of Pisa, with its memorable Leaning Tower, Duomo or Cathedral, Baptistry, and Campo Santo; the latter is considered sacred from its containing a portion of the earth brought from Jerusalem, in which repose the dead. It was agreeable to me to visit the spots I had frequently trod during a long sojourn in this old city, and to find numbers of those I had formerly known, still pursuing quietly the same course without change. A branch railroad took me to Lucca, to call upon some old acquaintances, and, on my return, I proceeded to Florence, the capital, and residence of the Grand Duke, and the seat of the arts of Tuscany. However captivated, and even infatuated, one may be upon a first visit to the solid, massive, and majestic palaces, with their beautiful frescoes, their well-filled galleries of sculpture and paintings, the colossal bronze statues of the public fountains, the decorations of the churches, the chaste and delicate mosaic work of the altars, it is not to be expected that I should now go into raptures upon a third visit to Italy.... The eye tires in gazing upon vast collections of works of art, and finds relief in escaping to the beautiful and extensive ducal gardens of the palace, where one may enjoy the works of nature amid long avenues of shady trees, listening to the sound of bubbling fountains, with groups of nymphs, heroes, gods and goddesses, in marble, as mute, silent auditors. Returning from a ramble,I took my favorite seat in the café Doney, much resorted to by strangers, and reflected upon the events which occurred during the revolution of 1848—the granting of constitutional privileges, the liberty of the press, the marching of troops against the enemy, the illuminations of victory at night, the songs of patriotism, the wailing and lamentation at the defeat of the Italian troops in Lombardy, the funeral mausoleums, and the lighted candles over the uniforms and arms of the victims in the churches, the transparencies and anathemas of the clergy, the mournful procession of the masses by torchlight with the crucifix at the head. All had passed away, liberty was crushed; the Austrian troops now occupy the ground and keep down revolution; the police are active and vigilant. One cannot drive to the Casino, a favorite forest ride, without showing his passport at the gate. Within three days from one’s arrival, a protectional passport must be procured, at an expense of twelve pauls, or a dollar and twenty-five cents. In my reflective mood, up tripped a flower-girl, in her picturesque Florentine costume, with flowing Leghorn hat and red ribbon, basket in hand, and presented a bouquet, with the salutation “Come sta signore, Come sta su Amico?” It was pleasant to be recognised and awakened from my reverie; but the excellent person of whom she inquired, and who had occupied so frequently the same seat beside me at table, had finished his mortal career.
The ancient city, Sienna, from which I write, is situated upon an elevation of some thirteen hundred feet, rising from the borders of a dry and dreary tract of country. Many of the streets are narrow, and impassable for carriages. This is one of the few points in Italy I had not seen, and I make the visit on my way to Rome, for the Holy Week. Its lofty antique palaces are the monuments of its former grandeur, while a Republic and rival of France. It possessed then two hundred thousand inhabitants; the number is now reduced to twenty-five thousand. The Cathedral is a fine old structure of the 13th century, and contains many beautiful works of art. The mosaic-work of the choir is covered with planks, to shield it from the tread of visitors, but a fee to the custode enables one to see the flight of the Israelites from Egypt. The wood carving of the stalls of the choir of the 13th and 14th centuries is exquisite, but not superior to work of the same style found in the old churches of Valladolid.Some of the frescoes of Raphael, representing different events in the life of Pius II., are remarkable for their color and preservation. The choir books, of large size, on parchment, are beautifully illuminated, and resemble a collection at the Escorial. In the chapel of one of the churches, begun in 1220 and finished in 1465, is a large, beautiful, and celebrated picture of the Madonna, by Guido; the Siennese claim the honor of being the earliest in the art of painting. I was struck with the preference of the pretty women for this chapel, and was led to inquire its history. In fact, the ladies here are celebrated for their beauty. The public palace, with its lofty tower in the form of an escalop shell, and its circuit of one thousand feet, sloping down like an ancient theatre, and filled with the peasants of the country on a market-day, is a gay and novel sight.
The people of this district speak Italian with greater purity than the inhabitants of any other part of Italy—they are the reverse of the Milanese, Genoese, and Neapolitans, who have a distinct patois of their own, which tends to prevent that unanimity and nationality so much required for the future welfare of Italy.
Rome, Italy,April 20, 1854.
Once again in this old city, the mistress of the arts, and at the close of Passion Week with its gorgeous functions and church ceremonies renowned throughout the world. On two former visits, one under Pope Gregory XVI., the other under the present Pope Pius IX., I attempted to describe the magnificence and splendor exhibited on these annual festivals. It would require volumes to speak of modern, aside from ancient Rome, with its one hundred and fifty thousand population, now largely augmented by foreigners from every clime; its three hundred churches, rich in sculpture, paintings, and frescoes; its three hundred and thirty-five palaces, and thirty villas; its five hundred streets and two hundred and seventy-three lanes; its one hundred and forty-eight public piazzas or squares; its aqueducts, bridges, and twelve Egyptian obelisks, aside from its fifty public fountains, more bountifully supplied with water than perhaps any city in the world.
As to antiquities—they abound on all sides, an evidence of what Rome was in her glory, an inheritance of which she cannot be deprived, and in which now consists her chief resource. Being destitute of commerce, without the annual concourse of strangers to the seat of the Catholic church, the modern city would dwindle down to a village. I find since my last visit that the hotels have increased in number and size, and that the shops for the manufacture and sale of mosaics, cameos, and other objects of art, have been enlarged and beautified. Gas has been recently introduced to a limited extent, and telegraph communication extended to Florence north, and Naples south; but here public or government enterprise ceases. The railroad system was vetoed, the Pope’s advisers deciding against it. Beggars are as abundant as ever, and in the country pauperism is fearful. The short crops of the past year, and the over taxation of the badly administered Italian governments, drive many to mendicity from necessity. One requires leather pockets to carry copper coin in to supply the tribe, for no sooner is one hungry swarm satisfied than another as hungry arrives. This is the most disagreeable feature of Italian travel.
I came down from Sienna by post, a distance of some one hundred and twenty miles. And here, to draw a comparison in favor of our own happy country, abounding with plenty for which we cannot be sufficiently thankful, I must cite the fact that in some of the mountain villages the number of beggars was so great that the conducteur, to my horror, provided himself with a dog-whip to resist their importunities. The paper currency of the country is at a discount of seven per cent. Since the Republic an issue of a million of dollars has been made in copper coin, like large medals, of five Baiocchi, equivalent to five cents each, which in the scarcity of gold and silver enters into general circulation. We required a large sack to pay postillions. Everything is quiet here under the protection of some seven thousand troops, who may be seen daily on parade, and standing guard throughout the city; they are very civil and under good discipline. The weather has been delightful during Holy Week; the city thronged with strangers, every means of conveyance in requisition, the almost daily visits to St. Peter’s and the Vatican, with the other sights of the city, gave much animation. The heavy carriages of the cardinals, with wheelsand bodies of gold and silver gilt, the famous black horses with massive gold plated harness, with two coachmen and three footmen in richly embroidered livery, added greatly to the scene. On Palm Sunday took place the presentation to the Pope of the cardinals in full regalia, bishops, priests, the noble guard, princes and foreign ministers in full costume, and the kissing of his Holiness’s slipper; then came the blessing singly of palm leaves tastefully wreathed and braided, of which some three hundred were provided for the officers and soldiers of the army who had made special application for them. The rush of thousands to witness the ceremonies of washing the feet of twelve pilgrims by the Pope in person, in St. Peter’s; their banqueting at a well furnished table in commemoration of the Last Supper; the services in the Sistine Chapel, the beautiful music of the Miserere, and the Lamentations of Jeremiah; the exhibition of the Holy Relics; the nails which it is said fastened our Saviour to the cross, some of the wood of which is shown; the handkerchief, inclosed in crystal, with which Santa Veronica wiped the face of Christ; the baptism with oil and water of a converted Jew and a negro girl at the Baptistry of Constantine, and the ceremonies of confirmation at the Basilica of San Giovanni de Laterano; all were calculated to keep up the excitement of strangers, and employ them fully during the Holy Week.
Having witnessed these ceremonies for the third time here, as also on a similar occasion at Jerusalem, with all the rites of the Greek and Latin Catholics, Armenians, and Copts, not omitting the extravagant exercises of Spain, Peru, and the island of Cuba, the scenes have become so familiar that I cannot describe to you the gorgeous display under the same impressions as formerly. Still it must be admitted that high mass on Sunday, at the close of the week, the Pope officiating in person in the vast edifice of St. Peter’s, in full pontifical robes and jewelled mitre, surrounded by thirty or forty cardinals, with a host of bishops and other members of the clergy, in their rich attire; the temporary loges festooned with red damask drapery fringed with gold, and occupied by the Princes of Prussia, Saxony, and France, in uniform; the Swiss Guards, with helmets and coats of mail; hundreds of the fair sex in black church dresses; hundreds of soldiers with fixed bayonets, and again other thousands of the masculine race in dress coats and whitekid gloves—the whole together presents perhaps the most dazzling group of court, religious, and the military display in the world. At the close of high mass the Pope, in his pontifical chair, supported upon the shoulders of twelve bearers in red silk costume, with a brilliant cortege, is carried to the balcony of St. Peter’s in the presence of the expectant multitude of some fifty thousand persons, composed in part of cavalry and infantry. The vast square as I saw it from the top of the colonnade was one dense mass of humanity; heads were uncovered during the brief service, then the whole multitude at a given signal fell upon their knees, and the benediction was pronounced. The bells of all Rome send forth their merry peals, the thundering cannon of St. Angelo roar along the Tiber, and the crowd disperse. The evening illumination of the cathedral St. Peter’s with its immense façade of colonnades, and three domes brilliantly lighted as if by magic, with eight thousand lamps, closed the ceremonies and sights of the week. The exhibition of fireworks took place the next evening, with fine effect, at the Porto del Popolo, one of the gates of the city. The former Girandolo from the Castle of San Angelo, representing the eruption of Mount Vesuvius, when the waters of the Tiber seemed in flames, was a magnificent spectacle.
I have never seen so many strangers in Rome as during the past Holy Week. My last visit was during the European revolution of 1848, which prevented general travel; we have visitors now, however, from all countries, though fewer Russians than usual. The Coliseum has become a great resort by moonlight; groups of ladies and gentlemen may be seen climbing its old and antiquated walls, or wending their way through its melancholy corridors by torchlight, which has a happy effect, bringing out their beauties more boldly, and hiding the deformities and decay visible by daylight. While standing upon the heights of this vast ruin, whose broken walls have contributed to the erection of many of the palaces of Rome, and reflecting that sufficient material remains for the construction of a small town, one cannot but be struck with the grandeur and power of the former in comparison with the present fallen race. While figuring to myself the grand and imposing spectacle of the mammoth amphitheatre, under the patronage of the Roman emperors, filled with the élite of the city, during the gladiatorialcontests, and the combats of the wild beasts, rushing out from their dens in the vast arena, I could find no better comparison in miniature for the enthusiasm of the multitude in the well filled galleries, than that which is shown at the barbarous bull fights of Spain and Peru; the ancients, however, carried off the palm for brutality by throwing the innocent Christians among the wild beasts. The stranger in Rome, however fastidious, may have his taste gratified, and his time constantly occupied here, after repeated visits; his labors for the first trip may be pleasant to the mind and refreshing to the eye, but they are arduous.
The long picture galleries and avenues of statuary of the palaces, the suburban drives to the various villas, as well as the villages Frascati, Albano, and the falls of Tivoli, with the picturesque costume of the peasants, all afford variety.
The antiquarian strolls among the triumphal arches of the Roman emperors, the broken columns of the Forum, or wanders among the ruins of the palaces of Nero and Cæsar, and the baths of Caracalla. When the eye tires with the sight of marbles, bronzes, or the interior decorations of churches, which are perfect museums of fine arts, by the old masters, one can mount the dome of Peter’s, or the Campidolio tower, and grasp the seven hills of ancient and modern Rome, with all their beauties and all their deformities, not forgetting one pretty spot which it is profitable to visit, and where, under the shady willows and rosebuds of the Strangers’ Cemetery, he can read the epitaphs of his friends or countrymen whose career is ended.
Naples, Italy,May 12, 1854.
I came to this city over a route which I once had occasion to describe to you, passing through Albano, the pleasant summer resort of the Romans, and crossing the once much dreaded pestilential Pontine marshes which have been improved by drainage. I spent a night at Terracina, the frontier coast town of the Pope’s dominions, passed Gaeta the following day, where his Holiness was exiled under the protection of the King of Naples, during his political troubles, and found myselfhere within forty-eight hours, from Rome, after three searchings of my luggage and five examinations of my passports.
You will naturally ask, “How have you passed your time on a third visit to Naples?” The question is easily answered. The half a million of population of this city and its suburbs is a study in itself. The race of lazzaroni deserve special attention; the beautiful garden, Villa Reale, with its fountains and statuary, on the borders of the bay, now abounding in foliage and flowers, is an agreeable retreat for those who occupy the large and commodious hotels which overlook these grounds. Or there is a ride along the coast to the ruins of Baiæ, the Grotto Pozzoli, or a quiet stroll through the grounds of Prince Roca Romano, an old gentleman of much taste who devotes his entire time to the embellishment of his villa, and is very civil to strangers. Aside from its beautiful position on the bay, its arbors, flowers, and tropical fruits, it has a collection of rare birds and animals, also a miniature museum, where I found preserved the Eyeless Fish from the Mammoth Cave of Kentucky, the gift of an American. The grottoes excavated on the margin of the sea are adorned with statuary and lighted on festival occasions; they contain a goodly number of flying fish of a bluish color, which are regularly fed, and of larger size than those found for sale in the markets of Curaçoa. A steamboat excursion to the island of Capri, to visit the Blue Grotto, occupies a day. The steamer lies off and on the rock; the passengers in small boats enter through the narrow opening at a favorable state of the tide. Sitting in the boat the hat touches the rock, so small is the entrance. One is struck with the beautiful mercurial-like color of the vaulted natural roof, and the great depth of the azure and limpid water. The boatmen for a fee throw themselves in, and to all appearance come out dripping with shining quicksilver.
Mount Vesuvius is now quiet. Having on a former visit ascended the summit and descended one thousand feet to the verge of the boiling crater, and with difficulty (from a change of wind) regained the point of descent, suffering from the inhalation of the sulphurous vapor, with boots burnt off, I had no desire to renew my acquaintance with it. I joined a party of ladies to visit the Hermitage about midway to the top of the volcanic mountain, where an excellent view of Naples and thevalley is obtained, and a good idea is formed of the rolling action of the lava in its destructive descent upon the plain, and also of the fertility of the gardens which are formed from decomposed lava and cinders, and which produce the Lacrima Christi wine, which here enters in as part of a cold collation. A melancholy accident has just occurred. A young German gentleman, who breakfasted at our hotel in full health the morning of his ascent to Vesuvius, was brought down a corpse. While on the summit a small portion of the earth gave way and he was precipitated down the chasm; his cries were heard by his companions for an hour, but before cords could be obtained from below he had ceased to breathe. A few days may be spent profitably and delightfully in visiting the ancient cities of Pæstum and Salerno, and the villages of Amalfi, Minori, and Majori, all lying on the sea-coast. Things have changed since I first trod the silent streets of Pompeii; then it really appeared like the city of the dead. Many excavations have since been made, the results of which are mostly to be found in the Great Museum of Naples; now the railroad passes by, and the station of Pompeii is an important one. If those who still sleep under the cinders and lava of these entombed cities could awake to the shrill whistle and hoarse cough of the locomotive, they would be as much startled by them as they were by the fiery flames and ashes of Vesuvius. Invalided sentinels are quartered to protect the relics of antiquity from the ruthless hand of travellers. Many gates are to be opened, and of course the purse strings must be frequently unloosened. The ride along the railway to Castelmare passes through a number of sailing ports. The rock excavation gives a good idea of the quality and variety of lava as it rolls down to the bay.
The drive from Castelmare to Sorrento is most picturesque. The views of the Bay of Naples, and the islands of Capri, Ischia, and Procida, from bold rocky cliffs surrounded by orange groves, which abound here, have been much extolled, and I was almost inclined to become as enthusiastic as others, as I listened to the harp players, and watched the graceful forms of the peasants in the national tarantula dance.
The anniversary or festival of the patron saint of Massa, a small village across the mountain, took place while I was here, so, mounting a donkey, I found myself, preceded by abouta dozen priests in black robes and three-cornered hats, mounted like myself, with boys beating the sides of the stupid animals. Our train was considerably augmented by peasant boys and girls in holiday costume trudging along, and we finally found ourselves in the square of the parochial church, which presented the appearance of a fair.
The temporary booths were supplied with all the eatables and drinkables requisite. The countrymen occupied their time in the examination of goats, sheep, and pigs, and in making sundry purchases, while the villagers and country lasses, with tidy white veils, were listening to a full military band playing church music during high mass. The priests of the surrounding villages were in full regalia, and the interior of the building was hung in red drapery fringed with gold leaf borders. Small cannon were mounted for a grand volley, which was given, after which these simple people returned home as much enchanted as if they had witnessed the pompous ceremonies of Rome, and heard the thundering cannon of San Angelo. My boy had loaded the donkey’s head with rosaries of stringed filberts and chestnuts, which fruit were much sought after by those who had not attended the festival.
The royal residence of the king at Caserta is well worth a visit, and easily reached by railroad. It is fourteen miles from Naples; the king spends most of his time here. The palace is one of the most extensive in Europe; the interior, aside from a few of the saloons and the staircase, is not remarkable. The grounds, gardens, and parks are eleven miles in circumference; they are well supplied with water, which is brought twenty-seven miles by aqueduct, forming some beautiful cascades. The soil is rich and fertile, and the Botanical and Horticultural Gardens very fine. In many respects I was strongly reminded of the royal grounds of the Court of Spain at La Granja, but the fountains here, and statues in marble and bronze, will not compare with similar works there.
The military force of the kingdom of Naples is one hundred thousand men. There are three regiments of cavalry and infantry stationed at Caserta, and soldiery and sentinels may be found at all points where one goes. The police are very rigid. For instance I retired to bed early the night of my arrival; at elevenP.M.I was roused by a rap at the door; I asked whatwas wanted; a peremptory order was given to open; I struck a light, and in marched two officers in uniform, who inquired if I had a passport. I replied in the negative, my passport being in the hands of the authorities at Naples. “Have you aCarta di Segiorno?” or permit; fortunately I had provided myself with one, or I should have been marched off to the Carcel. I was then questioned as to the object of my visit, and how long I intended to stay, all of which was exceedingly vexatious.
The flower and fruit season is fairly opened, and the sun begins to make one look for a shady spot. The glare of light is fatiguing to the eyes, and as I am a sufferer I shall make my way north to Genoa and Turin.
I shall take the steamer, notwithstanding the recent frightful accident and loss of the Ercolano from this place, caused by collision with the Siciliano, whereby forty-nine passengers and crew, in a few minutes, at midnight, were sent into eternity. It is attributed to gross carelessness, for it was proved that not an officer was on the deck of the Siciliano when she struck the unfortunate steamer. The culprits are in prison awaiting their trial. Many persons are now going north by land, but without doubt the caution now exercised will for some time at least make steam travel safer.
Turin, Kingdom of Sardinia,June 5, 1854.
Our steamer was a French one, and the commander having reputation for skill and caution, the little boat of two hundred and twenty horse power was inundated with passengers from Civita and Leghorn.
It was ridiculous but amusing to notice the rigor of the Neapolitan police. At the quay, before embarking, one has to have his baggage examined, or to slyly slip a piece of coin into the hands of the sentinel; then he passes to the office and gets a permit to embark, notwithstanding that his passport has already beenviséby his own minister, the Neapolitan Minister of Foreign Affairs, the Inspector of the Marine, and a permit de sejour has been granted previously—all of which costs several dollars, for the benefit of the Neapolitan officials.
Once on board, you suppose yourself clear of the annoyance; but it is not so. Another scene of counting heads and calling names, to be sure that none are on board without being regularly labelled.
Our boat had arrived from Sicily, and what with Sicilian and Neapolitan passengers, every berth was occupied.
After leaving the bay of Naples, the sea was sufficient to quiet many passengers, and to give a seat at table, which by right could be retained. The following day, at Civita Vecchia, there came a rush of passengers from Rome, on their way to Leghorn and Florence. Fortunately the weather was fine, with a quiet sea; had it been otherwise, with hatches down, those below would have suffocated. Tents were pitched for the ladies on deck, and mattresses scattered about for the gentlemen. Such a democratic party of one hundred and thirty-seven passengers I had not met lately. It comprised a French consul and his family, and Greek servants, from Turkey, Italian counts and countesses, marquises, Spanish generals, English nobility, North and South Americans, German and other travellers, with all the dialects and tongues of Babel.
In such cases most parties are willing to conform to circumstances, although those who embarked first with us had great reason to complain of the abuse of the directors. The first breakfast was at nine, and dinner at four, and those who had to wait for the second and third tables were to be pitied.
At Leghorn we remained ten hours, and received as many passengers as we had landed; so our condition was not much improved.
My trip was just the opposite of one which I made last winter from France to the island of Sardinia, on board of a steamer of great size, when I occupied the entire cabin, the commander being my only table companion.
I rejoiced to get ashore, in the thriving city of Genoa, with civil custom-house officers and few police nuisances, breathing the air of constitutional liberty, and lodging in one of the former palaces, now the Hotel Feder—the inconveniences of the passage made me appreciate good quarters. I found myself casually occupying the apartment where the great Irish agitator, O’Connell, breathed his last.
Notwithstanding several visits to the City of Palaces, I spenta few days profitably. I shall not again describe the contents of the churches, the style of architecture, the marble and gilded decorations of the costly edifices, of the famed republic, but simply state that the intricate streets and numerous lanes, with their tall houses, not unlike those of Venice, have charms after leaving the broad and quadrangular streets of many of the cities of Southern Italy. Horse power is in requisition only in the broad streets and thoroughfares; but it is curious to watch the multitude threading their way through the winding passages, with little shops on each side—the women particularly, with white veils suspended from their heads, and falling over their shoulders.
The cafés and refreshment rooms are, as in all parts of Italy, supplied with the melody of harpists and violin-players of both sexes, who make the circuit, and pick up the crumbs from a musical people.
The gardens and promenades of the Aqua Sole, on the height commanding the harbor and valley, are frequented by all the beauty and wealth of the city on Sunday and other festival days.
On my last visit here Charles Albert, the liberal king, had undertaken the Italian cause against Austria, but had lost his throne, and died in exile.
Then the journey from Genoa to Turin was a fatiguing one of twenty-four hours; now the great railroad is open, and the trip is made in five hours. The distance is one hundred and ten miles; the work was done by the government at an immense expense. The tunnels (one of which, three miles in length, is a stupendous work) are all of arched masonry. Too much money was expended in the construction of this road to permit any interest to be paid: it cost over two hundred thousand dollars per mile.
Turin of late years has made greater advances in improvements than any of the cities of Italy; it may be attributed to its liberal government and the concentration in it of many thousand exiles, including many wealthy families from Lombardy. The full liberty of the press is enjoyed here, and quite as much liberty of speech as is consistent with constitutional government.
The great difficulty in harmonizing or bringing about a union of the Italian states, will be the different dialects. Here thePiedmontese patois is spoken. The journals are in Italian, also the shop signs, and the theatrical performances; but strange to say, the conversation of almost all classes is in the patois, and it is only the shopkeepers and the educated classes who speak Italian or French to strangers. In Genoa, another dialect prevails. In Milan, Venice, and Naples, they have their patois, and cannot understand each other. All this contributes to jealousy instead of unanimity, and enables designing rulers to keep the people in ignorance. The general introduction of railways and common schools would bring about a change.
The Constitutional Anniversary has just passed off with great satisfaction. The son and successor of Charles Albert, king Emanuel, is popular with the masses. He assisted in person, a few days since, at the opening of the new railroad to Suza, at the foot of the Alps.
A famous Amazon race came off on a recent festival day. The parade ground was about three-quarters of a mile in circumference; circles and stands were erected, similar to those in a race-course, to accommodate twenty thousand persons, the centre being occupied by the ladies of the royal household. Thirty thousand persons were spectators. The ladies rode well in the steeple-chase, their horses clearing the bars and mounds with frightful leaps; but they clung to their steeds beautifully.
Just before sunset there was a circus performance on a grand scale. Among the riders was a Hercules in the shape of a mulatto, who galloped two horses, standing erect, one foot on the back of each, and supporting one of the Amazons on his shoulders. The deer hunt was a failure. The deer was but little alarmed, and took it very kindly: the dogs sympathized with the deer, and some of them took to their heels in another direction, much to the amusement of the crowd and the annoyance of the manager, who made an explanation and gave an entertainment for the benefit of the poor.
Turin is, I believe, the only city of Italy where clubs are tolerated. The principal one is composed of the most respectable persons of the city, and occupies a commodious palace, with all the advantages of a library, reading-room, rational amusements, and an excellent table. Through the politeness of Marquis Palavecini, who, with his bride, was with us in southern Italy, I found myself registered upon the privileged list for a fortnight.Upon the tablet of sixteen invited guests, composed of counts, marquises, and barons, two of the number had no title; one of whom, however, was of the sovereign people from America; he dined at the round table d’hôte of eight with the diplomatic circle of Spain, Prussia, Belgium, and Naples. The liveried servants, and the presence of distinguished personages, did not seem in the least to suspend his appetite or prevent his enjoyment of a good dinner.
Turin, with its population of nearly two hundred thousand, its broad and well-paved streets, its long line of porticoes surrounding the public square and extending along the principal thoroughfare, protecting from sun and rain, has its attractions. Its position upon the banks of the Po, with long avenues of shade trees throughout the suburbs, affords fine views. The collection of antique horse armor and coats of mail in the palace, is the finest in Europe after the collection of Madrid.
The scarcity of grain this year diminishes the size of the bakers’ loaves, and the outcry of high prices is general, particularly among the poor, whose principal sustenance is bread and wine, both of which are deficient.
Turin is celebrated for its pipestem bread, a peculiarity of the city.
It is laughable, at the table d’hôte, to see each person take a handful of sticks nearly a yard long, and amuse himself in cracking this crisping and delicious article.
The coming crop promises to be abundant. The wheat appears of a strong and hard growth. The heads of rye begin to turn already a golden color; and the hay harvest has commenced. The strawberry and cherry season is passing, as I noticed apricots are already in market.