We embark at Genoa for Leghorn by a coasting-steamer. On arriving at the
latter port the first thing which strikes the traveller is the mixed
character of the population, composed of Greeks, Armenians, Turks,
Moors, and Italians, whose strongly individualized costumes give
picturesqueness and color to the public ways. Until within the last two
centuries Leghorn was a very small village, and therefore presents
comparatively a modern aspect, with its present population of about a
hundred and twenty thousand. The streets are wide, well laid out, and
regularly paved, the northern section of the city being intersected by
canals, enabling the merchants to float their goods to the doors of
their warehouses. Its fine situation upon the Mediterranean shore is its
one recommendation, forming an entry port connected with Rome, Pisa, and
other inland cities of Italy. There are pointed out to us here three
special hospitals, an observatory, a poorhouse and a public library, but
there is not much of local interest.
An excursion of fifteen miles by railway will take us to Pisa, one of
the oldest cities of Italy, and formerly the capital of the grand duchy
of Tuscany, being finely situated on the banks of the Arno, which
divides the city into two parts, and is crossed by three noble bridges.
The population is about fifty thousand, and it has broad, handsome
streets, with a number of spacious squares, fine churches, and public
edifices. The most attractive part of the city is that lining the Arno,
where there are several palaces of some architectural pretensions. The
great attraction of Pisa lies just outside of the city proper,
consisting of a group of edifices which are celebrated all over the
world. These are the Cathedral, the Baptistery, and the Belfry, or, as
it is more generally known, the Leaning Tower. Each of these is
separated from the others by several rods. The Cathedral is the oldest
structure, and has an existence covering a thousand years. The isolation
of these buildings from the town, and their complete separation from
each other, add very much to their general effect. The Cathedral, built
entirely of white marble, is crowned by a noble dome, which is supported
by over seventy pillars, while it is gorgeously furnished with almost
innumerable art treasures, paintings, variegated marbles, panels, superb
colored glass windows, and statues. The altar and the pulpit rest upon
pillars of porphyry. The roof is not arched, but is of wood, divided
into sections and elaborately gilded,--a very ancient style of finish
found only in the oldest churches upon the continent. The doors are of
bronze finely sculptured. In the nave the guide will call our attention
to a large bronze hanging-lamp, the oscillations of which are said to
have suggested to Galileo the theory of the pendulum. The Baptistery, or
Church of St. John, is situated nearly opposite the Cathedral, a most
beautifully shaped church, which is noted for a marvellous echo.
[Illustration: LEANING TOWER OF PISA, CATHEDRAL AND BAPTISTERY.]
The Leaning Tower of Pisa is one of the famous structures of the world.
It is seven stories high, the summit measuring one hundred and eight
feet from the ground. Each story is divided by rows of columns, so that
architecturally it has a resemblance to the other buildings near at
hand. There are many theories as to the leaning position of this tower,
but no two persons seem to quite agree upon the matter. A plummet and
line depending from the top would strike the ground some ten feet from
the base of the structure. It has stood here for more than six hundred
years, and does not appear to be in any danger of falling. A view from
the upper gallery, over which hangs a chime of heavy bells, is very
fine, embracing the fertile plains of Tuscany.
Near at hand is the Campo Santo, a cloistered cemetery constructed many
centuries ago. It is a large rectangular enclosure surrounded by
arcades. After the loss of the Holy Land the Pisans caused some fifty
shiploads of soil to be brought hither from Mt. Calvary, in order that
the dead might rest in what was conceived to be holy ground. It was in
this Campo Santo that the earliest Tuscan artists were taught to emulate
each other, and here the walls are covered with remarkable
representations of Scriptural and historical subjects. The originals of
many pictures made familiar to us by engravings, are still to be found
here, such as "Noah Inebriated," "Building of the Tower of Babel," "The
Last Judgment," etc. The tombstones of those whose remains rest here,
form the pavement of the arcades. The sculptures, monuments, and
bas-reliefs in the Campo Santo are almost innumerable, forming a strange
and varied collection.
The history of Pisa is of great antiquity, having been one of the famous
twelve towns of Etruria. It maintained its municipal government and
almost unlimited freedom while nominally under Roman protection, but on
the decline of the imperial power it was compelled to submit in turn to
the various transalpine nations who overran Northern Italy. Early in
the eleventh century it had risen to the rank of a powerful republic and
to this period belong most of the splendid monuments on which it now
justly prides itself. Its soldiers were conspicuous in the crusades, and
at that time its fleets were the most powerful that navigated the
Mediterranean Sea.
Returning to Leghorn we embark for Naples by steamer. As we glide slowly
into the lovely bay just as the morning light is breaking in the east,
we feel that no more propitious hour for arrival could be devised, and
are glad that the view of the city is presented to us for the first time
from the sea rather than from the shore. How impressive is the historic
scene which gradually spreads out before us as we steam slowly in by the
islands of Procida and Cape Miseno, while we behold what an imaginative
writer has termed "a fragment of heaven to earth vouchsafed"; it
certainly seems more like a picture than like reality. Few cities on the
globe are so famous for their advantageous site as is Naples. It lies in
amphitheatre form on the shore of the classic bay, which is shut in from
the sea by the island of Capri, extending in part across its entrance to
the southeast, while to the northwest loom up the beautiful islands of
Procida and Ischia, so full of sad and historic associations. It will be
remembered that many of the population were engulfed at Ischia by an
earthquake within a few years past. On the eastern side of this
panoramic view rises Vesuvius, with its bold and isolated pinnacle,
while its dusky sides are dotted up to within half the distance of the
summit by villages, hamlets, villas, and vineyards, awaiting the
destruction which it would seem must come sooner or later. Along the
base of the volcano lie the towns of Portici, Annunziata, and Torre del
Greco, everything glittering in the light of the rising sun. The eyes
cannot rest upon a spot which has not its classic association, turn
which way we will. In the distance eastward is seen Castellamare and
Sorrento on the right curve of the crescent-shaped shore, while on the
left lie Solfatara and Pozzuoli. What a shore to look upon, where
Cicero, Horace, Virgil, Tasso, Pliny, and Macænas lived! How thrillingly
beautiful it is, as we creep slowly up to our moorings in the soft, dewy
freshness of the morning!
In direct contrast to all this beauty of nature and picturesqueness of
scenery, as soon as we land there comes before our eyes so much of dirt,
poverty, and beggary, as to cause us to shudder. How humanity outrages
the loveliness of nature! Begging is reduced to a profession here;
thousands of both sexes and of all ages have no other employment or
seeming ambition than to beg at every opportunity, to fill their
stomachs with food, and then, like the inferior animals, to stretch
themselves in the sun until again aroused by hunger. There is no quarter
of the city exempt from this pest of beggary. The palace and the hovel
join each other in strange incongruity; starvation and abundance are
close together; elegance and rags are in juxtaposition; the city has
nearly half a million population, and this condition applies to all its
streets. There are many fine public buildings, and yet they can lay no
special claim to architectural excellence. The old streets are narrow,
crooked, and in some places ascended by steps, on an angle of forty-five
degrees; but the modern part of the city is well laid out. The Strada di
Roma is the Broadway of Naples, a fine, busy street, more than a mile in
length and lined with elegant business stores, cafés, hotels, and public
offices. The famous Riviera di Chiaja, or Quay, is also a noble street
running along the shore of the bay, lined on one side by an almost
endless array of palaces, and on the other by the long park separating
it from the sea.
This Chiaja is the famous drive-way of Naples, and is a broad and
beautiful street by which we enter the city from the west. Just about
sunset this thoroughfare presents daily a scene more peculiar and quite
as gay as the Bois de Boulogne, or the Prater of Vienna, being crowded
at that hour by the beauty and fashion of the town enjoying an afternoon
drive or horseback ride. Here may be seen gigs driven by young
Neapolitans in dashing style, and some smart brushes in the way of
racing take place. The small Italian horses are real flyers, and are
driven only too recklessly over the crowded course. Mingling with the
throng are long lines of donkeys laden with merchandise, keeping close
to the side of the way in order to avoid the fast drivers; pedestrians
of both sexes dodging out and in among the vehicles; cavalry officers
cantering on showy horses; and the inevitable army of beggars with
outstretched hands pleading for alms, among whom is an occasional
mendicant friar also soliciting a few pennies.
It is not alone the common classes who live so much in the streets. It
is not alone the palace windows that are filled with spectators all
along the drive-way of the Chiaja during the carnival hour of the day,
but before each residence are gathered a domestic group sitting
contentedly in the open air, bareheaded and in gauze-like costume. Some
of the ladies employ their hands with dainty needlework, some are
crocheting, others are engaged in simple domestic games, and all are
chatting, laughing, and enjoying themselves heartily. The ladies wear
the gayest colors, these adding vividness to the whole picture. To
complete the strongly individualized scene, there are the graceful
palms, orange-trees, and fountains of the park, amid abundant marble
statuary, and flowering shrubs, with the sea, Capri, and Vesuvius for a
background, which together make up the view of the Chiaja at twilight.
Naples is very peculiar in the aspect of its out-of-door life; we see
the public letter-writer at his post in the open square; the common
people are conducting most of their domestic affairs outside of their
dwellings. Sellers of macaroni, oranges, grapes, fish, vegetables,
flowers, and hawkers of every sort fill the air with their shrill cries.
Common-looking men fling thin, greasy, tattered cloaks over their
shoulders, with a proud air and inimitable grace; groups of half-clad
children play in the dirt; whole families cook and eat in the street;
while liveried turn-outs are dashing hither and thither. No matter in
which direction one may go in or around the city, there looms up
heavenward the sky-piercing summit of Vesuvius, shrouding the blue ether
all day long with its slowly-rising column of smoke, and the sulphuric
breathing of its unknown depths. The burning mountain is about three
leagues from the city, but is so lofty as to seem closer at hand. It is
quite solitary, rising in a majestic manner from the plain, but having a
base thirty miles in circumference and a height of about four thousand
feet. When emitting fire as well as smoke, the scene is brilliant indeed
as a night picture, mirrored in the clear surface of the beautiful bay.
We find ourselves asking, What is the real life of Italy to-day? The
sceptre of Commerce has passed from her; Venice is no longer the abode
of merchant princes; Genoa is but the shadow of what she once was. What
causes a foreign population to circulate through its cities, constantly
on the wing, scattering gold right and left among her needy population?
It is the rich, unique possession which she enjoys in her monuments of
art, her museums, her libraries, her glorious picture-galleries, public
and private, but all of which are freely thrown open to the traveller,
and to all comers. The liberality of her nobles and merchant princes in
the days of her great prosperity has left her now a resource which
nothing can rob her of. Where could money purchase such attractions as
crowd the museum of Naples? The marble groups and statues, mostly
originals, number more than a thousand, including the Dying Gladiator,
the famous group of Ganymede and the Eagle, and that of Bacchus and the
Laocoön. Here also we have Psyche, Venus Callipyge,--this last dug up
from Nero's golden home at Rome,--and hundreds of others of world-wide
fame, and of which we have so many fine copies in America. Rome lies but
a hundred and sixty miles north of Naples, and the "Eternal City" has
largely contributed to the art treasures of the institution of which we
are now speaking, and which secures to the city a floating population
annually of several thousands.
[Illustration: A STREET IN POMPEII.]
One of the greatest attractions of Naples is the partially exhumed city
of Pompeii, three leagues more or less away. The drive thither skirts
the Mediterranean shore, with its beautiful villas, private residences,
convents, and churches, while the destructive mountain is always close
at hand. The place in its present aspect is simply that of the remains
of an entire city, destroyed and buried by volcanic action nearly two
thousand years ago. The movable objects found here from time to time, as
the slow work of excavation has progressed, have been removed to the
museum at Naples. Quite enough, however, is left upon the spot to form
tangible history, and to help the antiquarian to read the story of
Pompeii, which was a populous city four or five centuries before the
coming of Christ, and which lay entirely buried for some seventeen
hundred years. It is about a century since the first effort was made
towards uncovering the dwelling-houses, streets, and public edifices,
but the progress which has been made clearly proves that the inhabitants
were suffocated by a shower of hot ashes, and not destroyed by a sudden
avalanche of lava and stones. The dwelling of Diomedes, who was the
Croesus of Pompeii, was the first house disentombed. Its owner was
found with a key in one hand and a bag of gold in the other. Behind him
was a slave with his arms full of silver vessels, evidently trying to
escape from the coming devastation when they were suddenly overwhelmed,
and must have been instantly suffocated.
In the house of Diomedes, glass windows, six or eight inches square, are
found; showing that this article is not of such modern invention as had
previously been supposed. The luxurious public baths are yet perfect;
while the house where Cicero lived and wrote his speeches, besides a
hundred other well-preserved historic objects, are pointed out by the
guides. We are shown the Temple of Hercules, the theatres, the open
courts, etc. The excavated portion represents about one-third of the
whole city; but enough is clearly discovered to show that between
thirty-five and forty thousand people here made their homes, and that
the place contained all the fine public monuments and resorts that
indicate a refined and luxurious community.
An excursion of ten miles along the coast to the eastward will take us
to Baiæ, where the luxurious Romans were wont to resort for their summer
seasons. Here are still to be seen the remains of the villas where once
dwelt Julius Cæsar, Pompey, Marius, and such other notables as they
would naturally draw about them. The eyes can be turned in no direction
without our being charmed by a view of exceptional beauty, to say
nothing of the unequalled historic interest that attaches to every
square mile of territory and to the broad bay close at hand. Horace
declared it to be the loveliest spot on earth, and Seneca warned every
one who desired to maintain dominion over himself to avoid this
fascinating watering-place. It is here that Virgil laid many of his
poetic scenes.
A day's journey by railway takes us to Rome, the "Eternal City," which
is built on both sides of the Tiber, three or four leagues from its
influx to the Mediterranean. We know that this city must at one time
have been nearly as populous as London is to-day, but the present number
cannot much exceed four hundred thousand. The ruins of Rome--for it is a
city of ruins, notwithstanding its many fine modern structures--can give
but a faint idea of what the great capital was in the days of its glory.
At the zenith of her fame the city was filled with grand squares,
temples, amphitheatres, circuses, baths, and public and private palaces,
scarcely more than the ruins of which now remain--eloquent, however, in
their grim silence. In the days of the Cæsars, fourteen grand aqueducts,
supported by immense arches, hundreds of which still remain, conducted
whole rivers into Rome from a distance of many leagues, supplying one
hundred and fifty public fountains, with over a hundred public baths. In
those marvellous days, over a hundred thousand marble and bronze
statues ornamented the public squares, streets, and fountains, together
with ninety colossal statues on lofty pedestals, and over forty Egyptian
obelisks were in place. What an enumeration! Yet it falls far short of
the facts as illustrated in the text of history and proven by the
tangible evidence of numberless ruins.
The Piazza, del Popolo is a famous square in Roman history, in the
centre of which is one of those curious obelisks transported from Egypt
eighteen centuries ago, where it stood before the Temple of the Sun, at
Heliopolis, thousands of years since. On one side of the square there
are twin churches, far enough apart to permit the Corso, or Broadway of
Rome, to enter the square between them. The Corso has an average width
of fifty feet, and is a mile long. It is on this central street that the
horse-races take place during the Carnival; and it is here that the
finest shops, cafés, and palaces are to be found.
The Piazza di Spagna is another interesting square, about a quarter of a
mile from that just described. It covers five or six acres of land, and
has a curious old fountain in its centre. From one side of the square a
grand, broad flight of stone steps leads up to the elevated ground where
stands the church of Trinita de Monti. Lingering on and about these
steps the artists' models are seen at all hours of the day, both sexes
and all ages being represented among them. Old men of seventy years,
with noble heads and flowing snowy beards, bent forms and tattered
garments, sit patiently awaiting a demand upon them. Perhaps they could
afford better clothing; but they have an eye for artistic effect, and a
true sense of the fitness of things. The children, waiting here for the
same purpose, captivate our attention by their large black eyes and
gypsy complexions. How graceful and kitten-like they are, in their lazy,
lolling motions! The young girls are such as are not seen out of Italy,
with large, beautifully expressive eyes, gypsy complexions touched with
the rose color of health, and forms which would establish a sculptor's
reputation could he reproduce them. All of these persons are here for a
legitimate purpose; that is, to sit as models, for a given sum per hour,
and to this object they honestly adhere.
The favorite promenade of the Romans of to-day is the Pincio ("the hill
of gardens"), situated near and overlooking the Piazza del Popolo. It
probably derives its name from the Pincii family, whose estate it
belonged to in the period of the Empire. Hereabouts, of old, were the
celebrated gardens of Lucullus; and here Messalina, wife of Claudius,
indulged in revelries. Two afternoons of each week, as well as on all
holidays, the king's military band gives a public concert in the Pincio
gardens. The walks are kept in scrupulous neatness and order, shaded by
groups of trees, and adorned by beautiful beds of flowers. At prominent
points, fine marble statues of ancient Romans are conspicuously placed.
The paths and drives about these gardens present a gay picture at the
closing hours of each day, being the assembling-point of the social life
of modern Rome.
The Vatican, which is the Pope's palace, is one of the first and most
remarkable attractions for the traveller. We say the palace, but it is
actually a succession of palaces. This elegant stone structure, close to
the Cathedral of St. Peter's, is three stories in height, and contains a
vast number of saloons, galleries, chapels, and corridors, embracing a
comprehensive library and a remarkable museum, the whole surrounded by
spacious and elegantly kept gardens. Twenty courts, eight grand
staircases, and two hundred ordinary ones, are all contained within its
walls. It is connected by a covered gallery with the castle of St.
Angelo, a quarter of a mile away, and with St. Peter's, which it nearly
adjoins. Probably no other building, or series of buildings, in the
world contains so much wealth of art and riches generally as does the
Vatican at Rome. Its treasures in gold, silver, precious stones, books,
priceless manuscripts, and relics, are almost beyond enumeration. All
the world--ancient and modern, savage and Christian--has contributed to
swell this remarkable accumulation. The two most celebrated paintings,
and esteemed to be the two most valuable in existence, are to be seen
here; namely, "The Transfiguration," by Raphael, and "The Communion of
St. Jerome," by Domenichino. So incomparable are these works of art that
no critic of note has ventured to say which deserves to be named first;
but all agree that they are the two greatest paintings, as to real
merit, in the world. They are colossal in size, and have both made the
journey to Paris. Napoleon I. had them both transferred to the Louvre;
but they are back again, forming the great attraction of the Vatican.
The "Last Judgment," by Michael Angelo, covers one whole side of the
Sistine Chapel, one of the very best of this great master's works,
requiring hours of study to enable one to form a just conception of its
design and merits. Raphael has a series of fifty other paintings within
the walls of the Pope's palace.
[Illustration: THE COLISEUM AT ROME.]
The most notable ruin in this ancient city is the Coliseum, the largest
amphitheatre, and still one of the most imposing structures, in the
world; broken in every part, but still showing, by what remains of its
massive walls, what it must once have been. History tells us, that, upon
its completion, it was inaugurated by gladiatorial combats continued for
one hundred days; during which time five thousand wild beasts were
killed in contests with Christian slaves, who acted as gladiators. The
Coliseum was begun by Vespasian, on his return from his war with the
Jews, but was dedicated by his son Titus, and completed by Domitian over
eighteen hundred years ago. Ten thousand captives are said to have been
slain at the time of its dedication, and it was designed to accommodate
one hundred thousand spectators. The present circumference of the
structure is about one-third of a mile. From the arena rise the tiers of
seats, one above another, indicated by partially preserved steps and
passage-ways. In its prime it was doubtless elegantly ornamented; and
some evidences of fine art still remain upon the crumbling and lofty
walls. The material is a kind of freestone. The style of architecture
embraces four orders, imposed one upon another: the lower one is Tuscan
or Doric; the second, Roman-Ionic; and the third and fourth, Corinthian
or Composite.
The Pantheon is the only entirely preserved edifice of Greek
architecture in Rome. This grand and marvellous structure was originally
dedicated to the Pagan gods, but is now a Christian church. It is the
largest building of ancient times, and whose splendid Corinthian columns
fill the eye with pleasure at the first glance. The diameter of the
structure is one hundred and fifty feet, and the summit of the upper
cornice over one hundred feet from the base, the entire height being one
hundred and fifty feet. The interior effect is one of true majesty, and
that of the combined whole is deemed the acme of architectural
perfection of the ancient buildings of Rome. The plates of gilded bronze
which once covered the roof, the bronze ornaments of the pediment, and
the silver that adorned the interior of the dome, it is said, were
carried off by Constans II. more than a thousand years ago.
St. Peter's is considered to be the most magnificent church of Italian
or classical architecture in the world. Its extreme length within the
walls is a trifle over six hundred feet, while its greatest width is
about four hundred and fifty feet. The height, from the pavement to the
cross at the apex, is four hundred and fifty-eight feet. By comparing
these dimensions with familiar objects, we can gain some general idea of
the immensity of this structure, the largest ever reared by Christians
in honor of the Supreme Being; but only by frequent and long-continued
visits do we finally come fully to realize its unequalled beauty and
grandeur.
As Florence only dates from three or four hundred years before Christ,
it is not considered very ancient in the Old World. It sprang,
undoubtedly, from Fiesole, at the foot of which it now lies. The Fiesole
of the ancients was perched upon an almost inaccessible height, in
accordance with the style in which they used to build in those days of
constant warfare; but as civilization advanced, the city of Florence
began to grow up on the banks of the Arno and to cover the valley at the
base of the paternal settlement, until, to-day, it has a population of
about a hundred and fifty thousand. It did not assume any importance
until the time of Charlemagne, from which period it grew rapidly in
numbers and in prosperity of trade, its early and long-continued
specialty being the manufacture of Etruscan jewelry and mosaics; the
latter business, especially, having descended from father to son until
it has reached the present time. One may now purchase in the Florentine
shops the finest specimens of the art to be found in all Europe.
The square of St. Croce receives its name from the remarkable church of
Santa Croce which is located here, and which is the Italian Pantheon or
Westminster Abbey, where rest the ashes of Alfieri, Machiavelli,
Galileo, and a score of equally historic names. What a galaxy of great
poets, artists, statesmen, and philosophers are here sleeping in their
winding-sheets. Another fine square is that of the Piazza della
Annunziata, in which is situated the church of the same name, a
foundling hospital, and an equestrian statue of Ferdinand I. by John of
Bologna. The Piazza della Signoria is the busiest place in Florence,
containing also some remarkable buildings, as well as statues,
fountains, and colonnades. The fine tower of one of the Boston city
churches is copied from the lofty campanile, or bell-tower, of the
Vecchio Palace, now occupied as the city hall, and which forms the most
striking object in this interesting centre.
The hills which overlook Florence are indeed classic ground. Here
Catiline conspired, and Milton wrote; here Michael Angelo occupied his
studio, and Galileo conducted his discoveries, while here, also,
Boccaccio wrote his famous love tales. These hillsides are dotted with
beautiful villas, mostly owned by foreigners drawn hither in search of
health, or the study of art. No other city in the world, not excepting
Rome, affords such extended facilities for the latter purpose. Those
great depositories of art, the Uffizi Gallery and the Pitti Palace, are
perhaps unequalled, having within their walls over a thousand paintings,
each one of which is meritorious, and many of which are hardly
surpassed, if they are equalled. Raphael, Murillo, Titian, Michael
Angelo, Paul Veronese, Velasquez, and like masters of art are here fully
represented. To stand before canvas which the world has crowned with
undivided approval, to realize that the finest copies which we have seen
are but faint shadows of the originals, is a privilege which makes us
forget all petty annoyances, all cost of time and money in the
accomplishment. One pauses with more than ordinary curiosity before the
Madonna della Seggiola, one of the most famous pictures of Raphael, and
indeed of all art. We fancy that we have seen it faithfully reproduced,
but a glance at the original convinces us that, like the Beatrice Cenci,
it cannot be copied, but only imitated.
The Uffizi and Pitti Palaces are connected, and really form but one
great gallery of art. In the Uffizi division is what is known as the
Tribune,--the throne room of art, where stands "the statue that enchants
the world,"--the Venus de Medici,--dividing its homage with that equally
exquisite painting, Titian's recumbent Venus, declared to be the
masterpiece of color. These two works are surrounded by others almost as
perfect, and which in the eyes of trained artists share their loyalty.
No wonder the student of art selects Florence as a place of residence,
where he can visit as often as he pleases such models, without cost,
works which cannot fail to inspire artistic genius in whomsoever the
germs exist. But not alone those who wield the pencil and the chisel
come hither to seek a congenial home. The soft beauty of the scenery,
the delightful climate, and the poetic associations have tempted artists
and literary people in other lines to pitch their tents hereabouts.
Mario, the great tenor, once lived yonder; in that villa on the sloping
hillside, Taglioni once made her home; Walter Savage Landor sheltered
his gray hairs in this cottage home overlooking the valley of the Arno,
and died here. This old church not far away is that of St. Miniato al
Monte, nearly ten centuries in age, famous for its carved work and
paintings.
The common people of Florence seem actuated by a universal spirit of
industry; and as to beggars, we see none upon its streets--a fact worthy
of note in Italy. The women fruit-dealers on the corners of the streets
are busy with their needles, while awaiting customers; the flower-girls
are equally industrious, sitting beside their fragrant wares; the girl
who opens the gate for us and guides us to the tombs of Mrs. Browning
and Theodore Parker, in the city burial grounds, knits steadily as she
walks. The public park is called the Cascine, and lies along the banks
of the Arno; in some respects it is more attractive than most of such
resorts in Europe, being finely wooded, and consequently presenting
shady drives, and quiet rural retreats for pedestrians. It is the
favorite resort of all classes who have leisure in the after part of the
day, and is enlivened three or four times each week by the presence of a
military band, which discourses the choicest music to ears ever ready
for this sort of entertainment: no people are more fond of music than
the Italians.
The Arno, which divides the city into two unequal parts, is only a very
small stream during half the year; but when the snow melts upon the
mountains, or the rainy season sets in, it then becomes a broad, swift
river, conveying a great volume of water. It is crossed by six bridges,
not far apart, besides two suspension bridges at the extremities of the
city. The Ponte Vecchio is nearest the Pitti and Uffizi galleries, and
is covered by curious little shops. We must not fail to visit the house
where Dante was born, and also the house of Michael Angelo. In this
latter are shown many of the personal belongings of the great artist and
master, and the room where he studied and painted, containing numerous
articles of which he made daily use. The last representative of his
family bequeathed the whole priceless treasure to the city of Florence.
There is a lovely and celebrated park situated back of the Palazzo Pitti
which is open to the public, and known as the Boboli Gardens. The
grounds are quite spacious, being over a mile in circumference, divided
into shady walks invitingly retired, shaded by thrifty laurels and
cypresses, being also ornamented with some fine marble statues, and many
gracefully carved vases. Among the statues are four by Michael Angelo,
upon which he is said to have been at work when he died.