The Florentine Fête.--Chariot-races.--Horse-race.--Fête on the
Arno.--The Comte St. Leu.--The Bonaparte Family.--Fireworks
and Illuminations.--Illuminations in Paris.--The Corpus
Domini.--Anecdotes of the knavery of Florentine Domestics.
The great Florentine fête was celebrated a short time since. One of
the ceremonies is so peculiar, that it may amuse you to have a short
account of it. There are several considerable squares in the town, but
the largest is that of Santa Maria Novella. At the festival of St.
John, who is the patron saint of the city, an imitation of the ancient
chariot-races is held in this square, which affords the most space. The
games are called the _corsi dei cocchi_. There are two small obelisks
on opposite extremities of the square, and the temporary circus is
constructed by their means. A cord is stretched from one to the other;
a sort of amphitheatre is formed by scaffoldings around the whole, the
royal and diplomatic boxes being prepared near the goal. As there is
much scenic painting, a good parade of guards both horse and foot, a
well-dressed population, and a background of balconies garnished by
tapestry and fine women, to say nothing of roofs and chimneys, the
general effect is quite imposing.
The falling off is in the chariots. The ancient vehicle was small and
had but two wheels; whereas these were large and clumsy, had four
wheels, and unusually long and straggling perches,--an invention to
keep them from upsetting. In other respects the form was preserved, and
the charioteers were in costume.
Four chariots, to use the modern language, entered for the race. The
start was pretty fair, and the distance twice round the obelisks.
If you ask me for the effect, I shall tell you that, apart from the
appliances--such as the court, the guards, the spectators and the
dresses, and perhaps I might add the turns,--one may witness the same
any fine evening in New York, between two drunken Irish cartmen who
are on their way home. There was certainly a little skill manifested
at the turns, and it was easy to see that betting should have been on
the outside chariot; for those nearer to the obelisks were obliged to
go considerably beyond them before they could come round, while the one
farthest from the poles just cleared them. This outside chariot won the
race, the charioteer having the sagacity not to make his push before
the last turn.
After the chariot-races, we had the _corso dei barberi_, or a race
between barbs. The horses were without riders, and the track was the
longest street of the town. To this amusement every one who could
went in a carriage, and the _corso_ of vehicles was much the most
interesting part of the exhibition. Two lines are made, and the coaches
move in opposite directions through the same street, on a walk. Of
course, everybody sees everybody,--and pretty often the somebodies, see
nobodies, for the mania to make one on these occasions is so strong,
that half the artisans are abroad in carriages, as well as their
betters. The royal equipages moved in the line, the same as that of
the milliner. When we were well tired of looking at each other, the
grand duke went into a gallery prepared for him, and the race was run.
The latter does not merit a syllable; but so strong is the rage for
sporting, that I heard some Englishmen betting on the winner.
But the amusements of the evening were really fine. They consisted of
fireworks and illuminations, besides an odd scene on the river. It is
only for a few of the summer months that the “Silver Arno” deserves
its reputation; for I scarcely know a more turbid or dingy stream
during the period of high water. Indeed it brings down with it from the
mountains so much yellow earth, that “Golden Arno” would better express
its tint. But, at this season, it is placid and silvery. Care has been
taken to make it a river all the year round, in the town at least, by
raising a dam just at the suburbs, which causes the water to fill the
bed between the quays even in the dry months. Below this dam, it would
be possible for an active man, aided by a leaping-staff, to jump across
the channel. This is the common character of the Italian rivers, which,
fed by the mountains, are turbulent torrents in the winter, and ribands
of water in the hot months. Many are absolutely dry in midsummer.
We were kindly invited to witness the fête on the Arno, from the palace
of the Comte de St. Leu, the windows of which overlooked the river.
The party was small, but it contained several members of the Bonaparte
family. Among others was the Comtesse de Survilliers, or, a name she
is better known by, _la Reine Julie_; and that fine young man the
Prince Napoleon, with his wife, the Princess Charlotte, so well known
in America. The Prince and Princess of Musignano, with their children,
made up the family party.
I believe I have not spoken to you of the Comte de St. Leu. He is one
of the handsomest men of his age I have ever met with; but it is the
beauty of expression more than of features, though the latter are noble
and regular. I can scarcely recall a more winning countenance; and his
manner, though calm and dignified, is kind and unpretending. I should
think his stature materially above that of Napoleon, though he is not
of more than the middle height, and his figure is compact and square.
The Comte de Survilliers is short, inclining to fat, and, though
rather handsome, particularly as to expression, is not by any means so
striking in appearance as his brother. The Prince of Canino (Lucien)
is taller than either, thin, and has a decided Italian countenance, one
that is shrewd, quick, and animated. The Prince de Montfort (Jerome)
is short and slight, and resembles his brother Lucien more than the
others. He is said to have most of the expression of Napoleon; but I
should think, judging from the busts and likenesses, that Louis has
most of the noble outline of the Emperor. The whole family, so far as
I have known them, are certainly very intellectual and well-informed.
The Comte de St. Leu lives here in a good style; having a fine villa,
where I dined lately, and this palace in the town, which is altogether
suited to his rank and past life. He is styled “your majesty” by those
around him, as was the Countess of Survilliers; and a little, though
not much, of the etiquette of royalty is maintained in his intercourse
with others.[4]
As for the fête, it consisted of a display of boats, with a multitude
of coloured paper lanterns. The former were filled with company, and
as they floated about, with their lights and music, they made both a
singular and a pleasing exhibition. There were extremely fine fireworks
on one of the bridges, which terminated the amusements. One sees the
influences of climate in the Italian fireworks generally, which are
brilliant beyond comparison. On returning to the villa St. Illario, we
found that the dome of the cathedral was illuminated; and you may judge
of the effect produced by showing the outlines of so noble a piece
of architecture at night, by the aid of artificial and well disposed
lights. It looked like a line-engraving of fire.
Notwithstanding the constant practice of men, one is constantly
surprised at the ignorance of the commonest laws of philosophy that
is betrayed on such occasions. I have often seen the gardens of the
Tuileries illuminated, when the torches have been placed on the
pedestale of the statues, but in plain view; the eye necessarily taking
in the flame, to the exclusion of all the minor light.--Were these
torches concealed in a way to exclude them from the view, while their
rays fell on the statuary,--a thing easily enough done,--the effect
would be infinitely more agreeable, though perhaps less vulgarly
flaring. I remember to have once beheld a drop scene, at a theatre,
formed of mirrors. A flood of light was on and near the stage, and,
as a matter of course, the audience, instead of seeing itself when
the curtain fell, as was the intention, had a glorious view of the
reflection of a thousand lamps and candles! Had the lights been so
disposed in the boxes, as to illuminate the audience, while they were
not seen from the stage, the desired effect would have been produced.
Franklin, speaking of some of the coarse contrivances of French
industry, pithily remarks, that “a respectable _instinct_ would be
better than such a _reason_!”[5]
Still, the illuminations of architecture are usually good; and I
remember one particular thing at Paris, that is quite unrivalled in
its way. The Hotel of the Legion of Honour is the ancient Hôtel de
Salmes, of which Jefferson speaks so much in praise, in his letters.
It is a low building, though a very pretty one; and on the occasion of
the great fêtes it is the practice to raise a tall spar from the roof,
and to hoist at it an imitation of the star of the order, formed by
coloured lamps. This star, seen on a dark night, shining, as it were,
in the heavens, is, in its way, the prettiest thing I know.
We have also had the Corpus Domini, which is the great Catholic fête
of the year. The royal family walked in the procession, as usual; and
there was a parade of the Knights of St. Stephen, in their robes,--an
order of chivalry that, I believe, had some connexion with the
suppression of the piracies of the barbarians from Africa.
The heat in July became intense, and we began to think of quitting
Florence, where we had then been nearly nine months. I found the sun
intolerable out of the shade; and the hills, which render the valley
cold in winter, have the effect of converting it into an oven in the
summer. Accordingly, I announced an intention to depart, and soon had
occasion to remark that birds of passage like ourselves have little
hold on those we employ beyond their gains. Two of our Florentine
domestics conducted themselves in such a manner, as soon as they
ascertained the day we were to quit the place, that I was compelled
to discharge them; and, as this occurred on the third day of their
respective months, both demanded an entire month’s wages! This, you
will perceive, was just doubly their time. I resisted and gained both
my causes; and it is to be hoped that these people are the wiser for
their defeat.
A little occurrence that took place soon after our arrival in Florence
is worthy to be related, as it may serve to put other Americans
on their guard, and to let you understand the nature of European
intrigues. We commenced housekeeping with a man-cook, a housemaid,
and two footmen, with the Swiss maid whom we brought with us. One of
the footmen was discharged for drunkenness, within a fortnight, and I
did not think it worth while to fill his place. The other proved an
excellent servant, but a great scoundrel. It was not long before A----
complained to me of the bills of the cook, which, on examination,
turned out to be about double what they were at Paris, though Florence
has a reputation for cheapness. The housemaid, who was a Lucchese
woman, offered her services, and the man being discharged, she was
promoted to the kitchen, and her place was otherwise filled. Her name
was Bettina.
About this time, a poor Neapolitan, who had fallen under the notice
of A---- just before her confinement, came to return her thanks for
certain little comforts she had received. “You got the money I sent
you?” asked A----. “Si, signora.” “How much?” “Three pauls, each time,
signora.” Now these three pauls should have been ten pauls, or a
francescone each time, and Bettina had been the messenger. On demanding
an explanation, the newly-made cook admitted the fraud, giving as a
reason for keeping back seven-tenths of the money, that she thought
it was too much for the Neapolitan. Notwithstanding this flagrant
dereliction, there was something so _naïf_ in her confessions, that
the woman was not discharged. But some dissatisfaction caused A----
to change the milkman. A day or two after this change, the milk for
the coffee was found to be turned.--Bettina was sent for, and she
attributed it to the bad milk of the new milkman. When she went out,
Luigi the footman quietly observed that he happened to have a little
of the milk put away cold for the tea, and by setting it before the
fire in the breakfast-room, we might soon ascertain whether it was
really bad or not. The experiment was made, and the milk proved to be
good. Bettina was again examined, and on my threatening to take her to
the police, she confessed that the old milkman had bribed her to put
vinegar in the new milk. Of course she was now discharged.
As Luigi had hitherto behaved perfectly well, and had gained a
reputation by his expedient, his counsel was attended to, and he was
permitted to put a friend of his own into the kitchen. The explanation
of the whole is as follows:--The man-cook, though _out of reason_ a
rogue, was got rid of by a combination between Luigi and Bettina;
Bettina next lost her place, by the management of Luigi, who reaped
the advantage of his intrigues, as I afterwards learned, to the tune
of about two hundred francesconi, beyond his wages. When he obtained
his discharge he actually had the audacity to chase my little son
with a carving knife, threatening to cut his throat. He was paid
his wages regularly every month, and towards the close of the time
half-monthly, at his own request,--an expedient to prevent stoppages,
as I subsequently found, on account of his frauds,--and I owed him a
dollar when he was sent away. This he refused, claiming ten; and before
the cause was decided, he claimed his entire wages for the whole nine
months, affirming I had paid him nothing! In other respects he proved
to be a thorough villain.
I do not tell you this as a specimen of Tuscan or Italian character,
but as a proof of the impositions to which strangers are liable. After
an experience of nine months, I am disposed to think well of the
Italians, who seem a kind, and who certainly are a clever people;
but the great throng of strangers in these towns loosens the ordinary
social ties, by releasing the evil-disposed from many of the usual
responsibilities. It may be taken as a general rule, I think, that
travellers, unless greatly favoured by circumstances, see the worst
portion of every country: the better classes and the well-disposed,
waiting to be sought, while those of the opposite character must seek
acquaintances and connexions where they are least known, and where it
is easiest to practice their deceptions.