SOCIAL AND DOMESTIC CUSTOMS OF THE ROMANS.[10]
A Roman House--Wretched Dwellings of Working-Classes--How Working
Men spend their Leisure Hours--Roman mode of reckoning
Time--Handicrafts and Trades in Rome--Meals--Breakfast, Dinner,
&c.--Games--Amusements--Marriages--Deaths and Funerals--Wills
tampered with--Popular regard to Omens--Superstitions connected
with the Pope's Name--Terrors of the Priesthood--Weather, and
Journey Homeward.
I shall now endeavour to bring before my readers, in a short chapter,
the daily inner life of Rome. First of all, let us take a peep into a
Roman dwelling. The mansions of the nobility and the houses of the
wealthier classes are built on the plan of the ancient Romans. There is
a portal in front, a paved court in the middle, a quadrangle enclosing
it, with suites of apartments running all round, tier on tier, to
perhaps four or five stories. The palaces want nothing but cleanliness
to make them sumptuous. They are of marble, lofty in style, and chaste
though ornate in design. The pictures of the great masters that once
adorned them are now scattered over northern Europe, and the frames are
filled with copies. For this the poverty or extravagance of their owners
is to blame. The best pictures in Rome are those in the churches, and
these are sadly dimmed and obscured by the smoke of the incense. A
fire-place in a Roman house is a sort of phenomenon; and yet the climate
of Rome, unless at certain times, is not that balmy, intoxicating
element which we imagine it to be. During my stay there, I had to
encounter alternate deluges of rain, with lightning, and cutting blasts
of the Tramontana. The comfort of an Italian house, especially in
winter, depends more on its exposure to the sun than on any arrangement
for heating it. Some few, however, have fire-places in the rooms. The
kitchen is placed on the top of the house,--the very reverse of its
position with us. The ends sought hereby are safety, and the convenience
of discharging the culinary effluvia into the atmosphere. The fire-place
is unique, and not unlike that of a smithy. There is a cap for sparks;
and about three feet above the floor stands a stone sole, in which holes
are cut for the _fornelli_, which are square cast-iron grated boxes for
holding the wood char, upon which the culinary utensils are placed.
These are but ill adapted for preparing a roast. John Bull would look
with sovereign contempt, or downright despair, according to the state of
his stomach, on the thing called a roast in Rome. There it is seldom
seen beyond the size of a beef-steak. Much small fry is roasted with a
ratchet-wheel and spit. This is wound up with a weight, and revolves
over the fire, which is strewed upon the hearth.
The working classes generally purchase their meals cooked in the
_Osteria Cucinante_, where food and wine are to be had. These are
numerous in Rome. They may be fairly called the homes of the working
classes, for there they lounge so long as their baiocchi last. The
houses of the working classes are comfortless in the extreme. They are
of stone, and roomy, but unfurnished. A couple of straw-bottomed chairs
and a bed make up generally the entire furnishings of a Roman house.
Indeed, the latter article appears to be the only reason for having a
house at all. So soon as the day's labour is over, the working men
resort to the wine and eating shops and coffeehouses, where they remain
till the time of shutting, which is two and three hours of the night.
The Roman reckoning of the day begins at Ave Maria, which is a quarter
of an hour after sunset. The first hour of the night is consequently an
hour after Ave Maria, from which the Romans reckon consecutively till
the twenty-fourth hour. As the sun sets earlier or later, according to
the season of the year, the hours vary of course, and the same period of
the day that is indicated by the twelfth hour at the time of equinox, is
indicated by the eleventh hour in midsummer, and the thirteenth hour in
midwinter. This is very annoying to travellers from the north of Europe.
"What o'clock is it?" you ask; and are told in reply, "It is the
eighteenth hour and three quarters." To find the time of day from this
answer, you must calculate from Ave Maria, with reference to the time of
sunset at that particular season of the year. Mid-day is announced in
Rome by the firing of a cannon from the castle of St Angelo. The French
reckon time as we do, and may possibly, before they leave Rome, teach
the Romans to adopt the same mode of reckoning.
When I stated in a former chapter that trade there is not in Rome, my
readers, of course, understood me to mean that it was comparatively
annihilated, not totally extinguished. The Romans must have houses,
however poor; clothes, however homely; and food, however plain; and the
supply of these wants necessitates the existence, to a certain extent,
of the various trades and handicrafts. But in Rome these exist in an
embryotic state, and are carried on after the most antiquated
modes,--much as in Britain five hundred years ago. The principal public
works,--for by this name must we dignify the little quiet concerns in
the Eternal City,--are situated in the neighbourhood of Trastevere, the
decidedly plebeian quarter of Rome, although it would not do to say so
to a Trasteverian. There are woollen manufactories and candle
manufactories. The chief customer of the latter is the Church. The
armoury and mint are contiguously situated to St Peter's. The tanning of
hides is extensively carried on along the banks of the Tiber, whose
classic "gold" is not unfrequently streaked with oozy streams of a dirty
white. Flour-mills are numerous. Amid the brawls which disturb the
Trastevere, the ear can catch the ring of the shuttle, for there a few
hand-loom weavers pursue their calling. There is a tobacco manufactory
in the same quarter; and I must state, for truth compels me, that most
of the Roman women take snuff. From the windows of the Vatican Museum
one can see the tile and brick maker busy at his trade behind the
palace. Extensive potteries exist near to Ripa Grande, where the most of
the kitchen and chamber utensils for city and country are made. I may
here note, that most of the cooking utensils of the working man are of
earthenware, and stand the fire remarkably well.
There are about a score of soap-works in Rome, but the soap manufactured
in these establishments is abominable. My friend Mr Stewart informed me
that he brought a soap-boiler from Glasgow, who understood his business
thoroughly, and had soap made in Rome as we have it in this country, but
without the palm-oil. This ingredient was not used, because, not being
in the tariff, it was thought that, should it be imported, it would in
all probability be classed under "perfumeries," and charged an
exorbitant duty. The soap being a new thing in Rome, and unlike the
nauseous stuff there in use, a clamour was raised against it, to the
effect that it produced sickness, and caused headache and vomiting. The
Roman ladies, in certain circumstances, are most fastidious about
smells, though why they should in Rome, of all places in Europe, is most
unaccountable. The Government, compassionating their sufferings, seized
a parcel of the soap, and caused it to be analyzed by a chemist. The
chemist's report was not unfavourable; nevertheless, owing to the strong
prejudice against the article, the sale was so limited, that its
manufacture had to be discontinued as unremunerative. Besides the trades
already enumerated, there are in the Eternal City marble-cutters,
mosaics and cameo workers, sculptors and painters, vine-dressers,
olive-dressers, vegetable cultivators, silk-worm rearers, and a few
manufacturers of silk scarfs. There are, too, in a feeble state, the
trades connected with the making and mending of clothes, the building
and repairing of houses. And to feel how feeble these trades are, it is
only necessary to see the garments of the Romans, how coarse in material
and how uncourtly in cut. The peasant throws a sheep's skin over him,
and is clad; the lower classes of the towns look as if they fabricated
their own garments, from the spinning upwards. To the best of my
knowledge, there was only one house being built in all Rome when I was
there; and that was rising on an old foundation near the Capitol. The
makers of votive offerings and wax-candles for the saints are a more
numerous class than the masons in Rome. Washer-women form a numerous
body, as do lodging-house keepers,--a class that includes many of the
nobles. The clerks are numberless, and very ill paid, having in many
cases to attend two or three employers to eke out a living. Men are
invariably employed as house-servants in Rome. They cook, clean the
chambers, make up the beds, in short, do everything that is necessary to
be done in a house.
The workman begins his day's labour at six or seven, as the season of
the year may be. He breakfasts on coffee, or on coffee and milk in equal
proportions, or on warm milk alone. Bread is used, which he soaks in his
tumbler of coffee. Few take butter; fewer still eggs or ham, for
pecuniary reasons. Many of the working classes take soup of bread paste;
others take salad and olive-oil with bread. The peasantry cut up their
coarse bread, saturate it with olive-oil, dust it over with pepper, and
eat it along with _finocchio_ (fennel), the vegetable being unboiled.
Roasted or boiled chestnuts are extensively used at all times of the
day. They are to be had on the streets; many making a living by roasting
and selling these fruits.
Mid-day is the common dining hour. The meal generally consists of soup
of bread, herbs, paste, or macaroni, butcher-meat, fowls, snails (white,
fed on grass), frogs, entrails of fowls and young birds, omelettes,
sausages, salad with olive-oil, dried olives, fruit, and wine, according
to the circumstances of the person. The country people during harvest
make their dinner of coarse bread, to which they add a few cloves of
garlic, a little goat's-milk cheese, and sour wine diluted with water.
Many live on bread alone, with wine. Supper is generally a substantial
meal, consisting more or less of the same materials as are used for
dinner, salad and wine never failing. Tomatoes are extensively used, ate
alone, or serving for all kinds of dinner and supper stews. Green figs
are much used. Polenda is a universal article of food amongst the
peasantry. It is Indian corn ground and boiled, and made to take the
place that _porridge_ does in Scotland, with this difference, that it is
boiled in pork fat.
The amusements of the working classes are not numerous. Moro and the
bowls are their two principal games. The first is generally played at in
twos, and is not unlike our schoolboy game of _odds_ or _evens_. The
Romans, at this game, however, put themselves into the attitude of
gladiators,--each naming a number, and extending at the same time so
many fingers; and the party that names the number corresponding with the
number of fingers extended by both is the victor. So many _guesses_
constitute the game. The attitude and airs of the combatants in this
simple game,--which seems fitter for children than for men,--are very
ridiculous. The other chief amusement of the Romans is bowls. These are
made of wood. So many hands are ranged on this side, and an equal number
on that; and the game proceeds more or less after the fashion of
curling. The feast days,--which are numerous in Rome,--on which labour
is interdicted under a heavy penalty, are mostly passed at bowls; as the
Sabbaths, on which labour is also forbidden, though under a much smaller
penalty, are generally with the drawing of the lottery. All places of
rendezvous beyond the walls have the sign of the balls, along with the
accompanying intimation, _Vino, Bianco e Rosso_. Encircling the
courtyard adjoining the house is a broad straw-shed or canopy, beneath
which the crowd assembles, young and old, male and female, gathering
round small tables, and discussing the _fiasci_ of Orvieto and toast.
The game is proceeding all the while in their neighbourhood, the stakes
being so many more flasks of the choice wine of Orvieto. This continues
till Ave Maria, when the crowd break up, withdraw to the city, and,
after a visit to the wine-shops within the walls, go home, and (as I
was naively told by a Scotch lady resident in Rome) beat their wives as
much as they do in England.
In the coffeehouses the grand sources of amusement are dice and drafts,
along with backgammon and billiards. The latter two games are confined
to the upper and middle classes. Most of the upper classes, I believe,
have billiard-rooms at home, for family use and conversazione-party
amusement. In the absence of newspapers, journals, and books, it would
be impossible, without these expedients, to get through the evening. All
who can afford to attend the theatre (more properly opera), do so as
regularly as the night comes; and the scenes and acts which they there
witness form the basis of Italian conversation. It is at least a safe
subject. No Roman who has the fear of a prison before him would discuss
politics in a mixed company. In Rome there is an utter dearth of
employment for young men. They dare not travel; they cannot visit a
neighbouring town without the permission of Government, which is only
sometimes to be had; they have nothing to read; and one can imagine, in
these circumstances, the utter waste of mental and moral energies which
must ensue among this class in Rome. These young men have a sore battle
to keep up appearances. They do their utmost absolutely for a cigar and
cane; but their success is not always such as so great ingenuity and
patience deserve. You may see them in half-dozens, lounging for hours
about the coffeehouses, without, in many cases, spending more than a
single baiocchi on coffee, and sometimes not even that.
Marriage is negotiated, not by the young persons, but by the parents.
The mother charges herself with everything appertaining to the making of
the match, conducting even the correspondence. Of course, to address a
billet doux to the young lady would be to infringe upon the prerogatives
of mamma, which must ever be held inviolate if success is seriously
aimed at. The mother receives all such epistles, and answers them in the
daughter's behalf. The young lady is closely watched, and is never left
a moment in the society of her intended partner previous to marriage,
unless in the presence of a third party. The Romans thus marry by sight,
and have no means, so far at least as regards personal intercourse, of
ascertaining the dispositions, tastes, intelligence, and habits of each
other. After marriage the lady is free. She may visit and receive
visitors; and has now an opportunity for like and dislike; and may be
tempted possibly to use it all the more that she had no such opportunity
before.
From marriages I pass to deaths and funerals. The usages customary on
the last illness of a Roman I cannot better describe than by referring
to a case which my friend Mr Stewart had occasion to witness. It was
that of a clerk in the Roman savings bank, an acquaintance of his, and a
young man of some means. In 1846 he caught fever, and, after lingering
for three weeks, died. Relatives he had none; and my friend never met
any one with the patient save the priest, whose duty it was to
administer the last sacrament, and to do so in time. The sick man's
chamber was curiously arranged. On the bed-cover were laid three
crucifixes: one was four feet in length; the other two were of smaller
size. This safeguard against the demons was further reinforced by the
addition of a palm-branch, and a few trifling pictures of the Virgin and
saints. On the wall, above the bed, hung a frame, containing a picture
of the Virgin Mary, executed in the ordinary style, with lighted candles
beside it. Two were placed on each side, and to these was added _una
mazza di fiori_. Notwithstanding all this he died. The body was then
carried to church for the last services, preparatory to consignment to
the burying-ground of Saint Lorenzo. A single word pointing to that
blood that cleanseth from all sin would have been of more avail than all
this idle array; but that word was not spoken.
Towards the close of life, especially if the person be wealthy, the
priests and monks grow very assiduous in their attentions, and the
relatives become in proportion uneasy. I was introduced at Rome to a
Signor Bondini, who had a wealthy relative in the _Regno di Napoli_, on
the verge of eighty, and very infirm. There was a monastery in his
immediate neighbourhood, and the monks of that establishment were in
daily attendance upon him. His friends in Rome felt much anxiety
regarding the disposal of his property. How the matter ended I know not;
but I trust, for the sake of my acquaintance, that all went well. Nor do
friends feel quite safe even after the "will" has been ratified by the
testator's death. There is a tribunal, as I have formerly stated, for
revising wills,--the S. Visita,--which assumes large powers. Of this a
curious instance occurred recently. A Signor Galli, cousin of the
minister of that name already mentioned, died in the July of 1854, and
left his whole property, amounting to about fifty thousand pounds, to
neither relatives nor priests, but to works of benevolence for the
relief of the poor. The trustee under the deed was proceeding to plan a
workhouse or an asylum for infirm old men, when the Chapter of St
Peter's claimed the money, on the ground that, as the works of
benevolence were not specified in the will, the funds were the property
of St Peter's. Some hundreds of old men are employed in the repairs
continually going on about that church, and the Chapter meant to spend
the money in that way. Meanwhile the S. Visita put in its claim in
opposition to the Chapter, and awarded the property for masses for the
soul of the departed; deeming, doubtless, that the whole would be little
enough to expiate the well-known liberal opinions of the deceased. So
stands the matter at present. It is impossible to say whether the money
will be spent in paving the Piazza San Pietro, or in masses; as to the
relief of the poor, that is now out of the question.
It is customary for Roman families to desert the dead, that is, to leave
the body in the hands of the priests and monks, who perform the
necessary offices to the corpse, conduct the funeral, and sing masses
for the soul of the departed. The pomp and display of the one, and the
length and number of the other, are regulated entirely by the
circumstances of the deceased's family. A more ghastly procession than
the funeral one cannot imagine. Instead of a company of grave men,
carrying with decorous sorrow to its final resting-place the body of
their departed brother, you meet what you take to be a procession of
ghouls. The coffin, borne shoulder-high, comes along the street,
followed by a long line of figures, enveloped from head to foot in black
serge gowns, with holes for the eyes. They march along, carrying large
black crosses and tallow candles, and using their voices in something
which is betwixt a chant and a howl. The sight suggests only the most
dismal associations. But it has its uses, and that is, to move the
living to be liberal in masses to rescue the soul from the power of the
demons, of which no feeble representation is exhibited in this ghostly
and unearthly procession.
The modern Italians pay great regard to omens; and, in the important
affairs of life, are guided rather by considerations of lucky and
unlucky than the maxims of wisdom. The name of the present Pope the
Romans hold to be decidedly of evil omen; so much so, that to affix it
anywhere is to make the person or thing a mark for calamity. And I was
told a curious list of instances corroborative of this opinion. The
first year of the reign of Pius was marked by an unprecedented and
disastrous flood. The Tiber rose so high in Rome, that it drowned the
stone lions in the Piazza del Popolo, flooded the city, and filled the
Corso to a depth that compelled the citizens to have recourse to boats.
The Government had a great cannon named after the Pope, which was used
in the war of independence sanctioned by Pius in 1848. The cannon Pio
was taken by the Austrians, although it was afterwards restored. There
was a famous steamer, the property of the Papal Government, named "Pia,"
which plied on the Adriatic. That steamer shared the fate of all that
bears the Pope's name. It was taken, too, by the Austrians, but not
returned; though, for a reason I shall afterwards state, better it had
been sent back. I was wandering one afternoon amid the desolate mounds
outside the walls on the east, when I saw a cloud of frightful blackness
gather over Rome, and several intensely vivid bolts shoot downward. When
I entered the city, I found that the "Porta Pia" had been laid in ruins,
and that the occurrence had revived all the former impressions of the
Romans regarding the evil significancy of the Pope's name. All who came
to his aid in his reforming times, they say, were smitten with disaster
or sudden death. He never raises his hands to bless but down there comes
a curse. I was not a little struck, in the winter following my return
from Rome, to read in the newspapers, that this same steamer Pia, of
which I had heard mention made in Rome as having about it a magnet of
evil in the Pope's name, had gone down in the Adriatic, with all on
board. It was one of the two vessels which carried the suite of the
Russian Grand Dukes when they visited Venice in the winter of 1852, and,
encountering a tempest on its return, perished, with some two hundred
persons, consisting of crew and soldiers.
As regards the affection which the Romans bear to Pope and Papacy, I
was assured by Mr Freeborn, our consul in Rome, that there is not a
priest in that city who had two hours to live when the last French
soldier shall have marched out at the gate. All who had resided for some
time in Rome, and knew the state of feeling in the population, shuddered
to think of what would certainly happen should the French be withdrawn.
I have been told by those who visited Rome more recently, that the
Romans now do not ask for so much as two hours. "Give us but half an
hour," say they, "and we undertake that the Papacy shall never again
trouble the world." No true Protestant can wish, or even hope, to put
down the system in this way; nevertheless it is a fact, that the Romans
have been goaded to this pitch of exasperation, and the slightest change
in the political relations of Europe might precipitate on Rome and the
Papal States an avalanche of vengeance. The November of 1851 was a time
of almost unendurable apprehension to the priests. With reference to
France, then on the eve of the _coup d'etat_, though not known to be so
save in Rome,--where I am satisfied it was well known,--the priests, I
was told by those who had access to know, said, "We tremble, we tremble,
for we know not how we shall finish!" They were said to have their
pantaloons, et cetera, all ready, to escape in a laic dress. Assuredly
the curse has taken effect upon the occupants of the Vatican not less
than on the inhabitants of the Ghetto. "Thy life shall hang in doubt
before thee, and thou shalt fear day and night, and shalt have none
assurance of thy life."
Among other things that did not realize my expectations in Italy was the
weather. During my stay in Rome there were dull and dispiriting days,
with the Alban hills white to their bottom. Others were clear, with the
piercingly cold Tramontana sweeping the streets; but more frequently
the sirocco was blowing, accompanied with deluges of rain, and flashes
of lightning that made the night luminous as the day, and peals that
rocked the city on its foundations. One Sabbath evening we had a slight
shock of earthquake; and I began to think that I had come to see the
volcanic covering of the Campagna crack, and the old hulk which has been
stranded on it so long sink into the abyss. My homeward journey was
accomplished so far in the most dismal weather I have ever seen. I
started from Rome on a Monday afternoon, in a Veturino carriage, with
two Roman gentlemen as my companions. It was the Civita Vecchia road,
for my purpose was to go by sea to France. We reached the half-way house
some hours after dark; and, having supped, we were required to conform
to the rule of the house, which was to retire, not to bed, but to our
vehicle, which stood drawn up on the highway, and pass the night as best
we could. I awoke at day-break, and found the postilion yoking the
horses in a perfect hurricane of wind and rain. We reached Civita
Vecchia at breakfast-time, and found the Mediterranean one roughened
expanse of breakers, with the white waves leaping over the mole, and
violently rocking the vessels in the harbour. The steamers from Naples
to Marseilles were a week over due, and the agents could not say when
one might arrive. Time pressed; and after wandering all day about the
town,--one of the most wretched on earth,--and seeing the fiery sun find
his bed in the weltering ocean, I took my seat in the _diligence_ for
Rome.
This was the third time I had passed through that land of death the
Campagna; and that night in especial I shall never forget. My companions
in the _interieur_ were two Dutch gentlemen, and a lady, the wife of one
of them. The rain fell in deluges; the frequent gleams showed us each
other's faces; and the bellowing thunder completely drowned the rattle
of our vehicle. The long weary night wore through, and about four of the
morning we came to the old gate. My passport had been vised with
reference to a sea-voyage; and to explain my change of route to the
officials in Civita Vecchia and at the gate of Rome, and persuade them
to make the corresponding alterations, cost me some little trouble, and
a good many paulos into the bargain. I succeeded, fortunately, for
otherwise I should have had to submit to a detention of several days.
How to make the homeward journey had now become a serious question. The
weather had made the sea unnavigable; and the Alps, now covered to a
great depth with ice and snow, could be crossed only on sledges. I
resolved on going by land to Leghorn,--a wearisome and expensive route,
but one that would show me the old Etruria, with several cities of note
in Italian history. The _diligence_ for Florence was to start in an
hour. I hurried to the office, and engaged the only seat that remained
unbespoke, in the coupe happily, with a Russian and Italian gentleman as
companions. I made my final exit by the Flaminian gate; and as I crossed
the swollen Tiber, and began to climb the height beyond, the first rays
of the morning sun were slanting across the Campagna, and tinging with
angry light the troubled masses of cloud that hung above the many-domed
city.
For a few hours the ride was pleasant. All around lay the neglected
land, thinly besprinkled with forlorn olives, but without signs of man,
save where a crumbling village might be seen crowning the summit of the
little conical hills that form so striking a feature in the Etrurian
landscape. When we had reached the spurs of the Apennines the storm
fell. The air was thickened with alternate showers of sleet and snow. We
had to encounter torrents in the valleys, and drifted wreaths on the
heights; in short, the journey was to the full as dreary as one through
the Grampians would have been at the same season. There was little to
tempt us to leave our vehicle at the few villages and towns where we
halted, for they seemed half-drowned in rain and mud. Late in the
afternoon we reached Viterbo, and stopped to eat a wretched dinner. We
found in the hotel but little of that abundance of which the magnificent
vine-stocks in the adjoining fields gave so goodly promise. Starting
again at dusk, the ladies of the party inquired where the patrol was
that used to accompany travellers through the brigand-haunted country of
Radicofani, on which we were about to enter; but could get no
satisfactory answer. We skirted the lake of Bolsena, with its rich but
deserted shores, and its fine mountains of oak. Soon thereafter darkness
hid from us the country; but the frequent gleams of lightning showed
that it was wild and desolate as ever traveller passed through. It was
naked, and torn, and scathed, as if fire had acted upon it, which,
indeed, it had, for our way now lay amidst extinct volcanoes. Towards
midnight the _diligence_ suddenly stopped. "Here are the brigands at
last," said I to myself. I jumped out; and, stretched on the road,
pallid and motionless, lay the foremost postilion. Had he been shot, or
what had happened? He was a raw-boned lad of some eighteen, wretchedly
clad, and worse fed; and he had swooned through fatigue and cold. We
brought him round with a little brandy; and, setting him again on his
nags, we continued our journey.
I recollect of awaking at times from troubled sleep, to find that we
were zig-zagging up the sides of mountains tall and precipitous as a
sugar-loaf, and entering beneath the portals of towns old and crumbling,
perched upon their very summit. A more desolate sight than that which
met the eye when day broke I never saw. Every particle of soil seemed
torn from the face of the country; and, as far as the eye could reach,
plain and hill-side lay under a covering of marl, which was grooved and
furrowed by torrents. "Is this Italy?" I asked myself in astonishment.
As the day rose, both weather and scenery improved. Towards mid-day, the
green beauteous mount on which Sienna, with its white buildings and its
cathedral towers, is situated, rose in the far distance; and, after many
hours winding and climbing, we entered its walls.
At Sienna we exchanged the _diligence_ for the railway, the course of
which lay through a series of ravines and valleys of the most
magnificent description, and thoroughly Tuscan in their character. We
had torrents below, crags crowned with castles above, vines, chestnuts,
and noble oaks clothing the steep, and purple shadows, such as Italy
only can show, enrobing all. I reached Pisa late in the evening; and
there a substantial supper, followed by yet more grateful sleep, made
amends for the four previous days' fasting, sleeplessness, and
endurance. I passed the Sabbath at Leghorn; and, starting again on
Monday _via_ Marseilles, and prosecuting my journey day and night
without intermission, save for an hour at a time, came on Saturday
evening to the capital of happy England, where I rested on the morrow,
"according to the commandment."