20th October 1786.
We arrived here last night, having driven through the sweetest country
in the world; and here are a few timber trees at last, such as I have
not seen for a long time, the Tuscan spirit of mutilation being so
great, that every thing till now has been pollarded that would have
passed twenty feet in height: this is done to support the vines, and not
suffer their rambling produce to run out of the way, and escape the
gripe of the gatherers. I have eaten too many of these delicious grapes
however, and it is now my turn to be sick--No wonder, I know few who
would resist a like temptation, especially as the inn afforded but a
sorry dinner, whilst every hedge provided so noble a dessert. _Paffera
pur la malattia_[Footnote: The disorder will die away though.], as these
soft-mouthed people tell me; the sooner perhaps, as we are not here
annoyed by insects, which poison the pleasure of other places in Italy;
here are only _lizards_, lovely creatures! who being of a beautiful
light green colour upon the back and legs, reside in whole families at
the foot of every tree, and turn their scarlet bosoms to the sun, as if
to display the glories of colouring which his beams alone can bestow.
The pleasing tales told of this pretty animal's amical disposition
towards man are strictly true, I hear; and it is no longer ago than
yesterday I was told an odd anecdote of a young farmer, who, carrying a
basket of figs to his mistress, lay down in the field as he crossed it,
quite overcome with the weather, and fell fast asleep. A serpent,
attracted by the scent, twined round the basket, and would have bit the
fellow as well as robbed him, had not a friendly lizard waked, and given
him warning of the danger.
Swift says, that in the course of life he meets many asses, but they
have not _lucky names_. I have met many _vipers, and so few lizards_, it
is surprising! but they will not live in London.
All the stories one has ever heard of sweetness in language and delicacy
in pronunciation, fall short of Siennese converse. The girls who wait
on us at the inn here, would be treasures in England, could one get them
thither; and they need move nothing but their tongues to make their
fortunes. I told Rosetta so, and said I would steal from them a poor
girl of eight years old, whom they kept out of charity, and called
Olympia, to be my language mistress, "_Battezata com' è, la lascieremo
Christiana_[AC]," was the answer. It is impossible, without their
manners, to express their elegance, their superior delicacy, graceful
without diffusion, and terse without laconicism. You ask the way to the
town of a peasant girl, and she replies, "_Passato'l Ponte, o pur
barcato'l Fiume, eccola a Sienna_[AD]." And as we drove towards the city
in the evening, our postillion sung improviso verses on his sweetheart,
a widow who lived down at Pistoja, they told me. I was ashamed to think
that no desk or study was likely to have produced better on so trite a
subject. Candour must confess, however, that no thought was new, though
the language made them for a moment seem so.