FLORENCE, ITALY, _May 2, 1856_.
Yesterday, the 1st of May, a gala-day in many countries, happening to
be the anniversary of the Ascension, it united the church festival and
the annual rejoicings of citizens and peasants; all business being
suspended, and the entire populace at liberty, there was an unusual
movement of the masses, and from early dawn until night might be seen
the working-classes with their baskets of provisions, and flasks of
wine, making their way to the shady groves of the Cascina, or royal
farm. The wealthy denizens, in carriages, reserved their drive until
towards evening, to enjoy the music of the band, which had already
assisted at the church exercises and processions of the morning.
Having left the gay throng, I wandered along through the forest
upon the banks of the Arno, listening to the changing notes of the
nightingale, until I came to the junction of another stream, which
arrested my progress. I was startled by the tread of the iron-horse
in the distance, on his way to Leghorn. My thoughts, with more than
locomotive speed, carried me back to the advantages enjoyed through
steam power. One year before I was strolling upon the shores of the
Danube, through the shady woods of the Prater, watching the movements
of the people, and the gay cortege of the Imperial family of Austria,
on a like occasion. The same power had since conveyed me twice across
the Atlantic, through our Western States, and to the head waters of the
Mississippi, and how much reason I had to be thankful for my almost
miraculous preservation from the perils attending that power which
I had so recently praised, in the superior qualities of the steamer
Pacific, in my last passage to Europe. If she be now unfortunately
added to the list of lost, it makes the sixth of the first-class
steamers gone to the bottom, from which I have escaped within the past
few years.
My reverie was broken by the appearance of a group of ruddy-faced
peasant-girls, some with broad-brimmed straw-hats and long ribbons
floating in the breeze, and some with pearl necklaces and crossed
ear-rings. It was a bridal party. Some of the girls were remarkable
for their beauty and freshness of complexion, notwithstanding their
exposure to hard labor in the vineyards. The bridal portion of the
peasant girl consists in the dress and valuable ornaments presented to
her by the groom a few days before the marriage.
As I returned through the broad and solitary avenues, I met at
intervals the forest guards, of which there were ten in number, in
picturesque hunting dresses, with rifles in their hands, and plumes in
their hats. Then I came to the joyful and giddy throng--music, dancing,
eating, and drinking.
Winter is past, spring time has come once again, and all strive to
be happy. Little country urchins are offering children miniature
corn-stalk cages containing crickets, whose singing qualities they
proclaim to inquiring nurses.
The annual races were held recently for three days in the same
vicinity, which attracted large numbers of the upper classes of the
community. The concourse of beauty and fashion in carriages was quite
different from what it is with us, and gave strangers, of whom large
numbers are now here on their return from Rome and Naples, a fine
opportunity of seeing the aristocracy, and witnessing the sports of
the turf. Curiosity led me to be present on one occasion, and I found
things went off better than I had expected. Considerable interest
was manifested by many for the success of a horse mounted by a negro
jockey, rather a rare personage in this country, but poor Cuffy
was almost distanced. It seemed to me, however, the fellow was not
disheartened, for I saw him in the evening sipping his ice with a
well-dressed white woman in a respectable café. I cite this as one of
many examples seen in England and on the continent, however shocking it
may be to the American mind to witness, of the practical amalgamation
of the races carried out among the sympathizers of poor Uncle Tom.
Inasmuch as all Europe have had their demonstrations of joy upon
the return of peace, so also has this government manifested its
satisfaction in a jubilee. I suppose even the Duchy of Parma has done
the same, although recently put in a state of siege, growing out of
the frequent attempts at assassination of government officers. All
fire-arms must be given up, and strangers are closely watched.
The people are looking anxiously for the publication of the articles of
peace, hoping that Italy may also have real cause for rejoicing.
Although the carriage horses here are of large size and
well-proportioned, there is quite a passion manifested for small ponies
of the Shetland stock, for little tiny wagons, well adapted to run
over the hills, and glide in and around the city, over the well-paved
streets.
My ears have been bored several days past with the continual chiselling
of the _Scarpellini_, or stone-cutters, who are repaving the street
under my windows, and the solid arched stone bridge over the river.
From seven in the morning until seven in the evening, with an hour’s
intermission for a frugal meal, they are measuring, picking, and
cutting huge granite blocks into suitable forms, close jointed; the
street has no sidewalk, the descent being gradual from the houses, and
the water carried off by culverts from the centre. It is a pleasure to
look upon such beautiful work; a carriage rolls without impediment,
and where there is an ascent it can be nitched or chiselled, as may
be needed, for the foothold of horses. These poor mechanics earn from
thirty to forty cents per day, our currency, and consider themselves
well paid, notwithstanding the increased price of provisions, while
large numbers in other pursuits have only the miserable pittance of
from one to one and a half pauls per day, say from twelve to eighteen
cents.
Begging in the capital is prohibited by law, but tolerated in
consequence of the distress of the poor. Public beggars are frequently
unworthy of charity, but a Howard would have a fine field here for
the exercise of benevolence. The other day, emerging from the Palazzo
Pitti, or royal residence, wearied in gazing through long galleries
at the pictures of Raphael, Rubens, Titian, Salvator Rosa, Murillo,
Carlo Dolci, and a host of other celebrated painters; at the statuary
of renowned artists, the allegorical frescoed ceilings, and seeking
relief in the shady walks of the Boboli, or palace garden, my
attention was arrested by the Ducal family riding out with a splendid
equipage. Happy children of wealthy families fed the gold fish in the
basins surrounding the fountains, decorated with the colossal figure
of Neptune, with the waters of the Ganges, Nile, and Euphrates gushing
forth, while nurses and liveried servants were in attendance.
Continuing my walk quite into the suburbs, and reflecting upon the
concentration of so much treasure in the hands of the nobility, and
the inequality of society in monarchical countries, I accidentally
met a little boy quite alone, poorly clad, with dejected air, trying
to gather a few sticks. On inquiry I found he had eaten nothing for
twenty-four hours, and had left his poor mother and four children in
a suffering state. His hunger was soon appeased at the first baker’s
shop, and it was pleasant to see the little fellow going to the relief
of the others with something more substantial than his errand called
for.
After repeated visits to the same city, one becomes so accustomed to
the remarkable sights which first attract the stranger, that if he
attempts to describe them he scarcely knows where to begin.
We pass and repass the Palazzo Vecchio, an old palace of Grecian and
Etruscan architecture, with its lofty tower of the thirteenth century,
and its gigantic figures, at the entrance, of David slaying Goliah, and
Hercules slaying Cacus, with but slight notice, casting a glance at the
open gallery opposite, with its pretty front of columns and arches,
containing the beautiful bronze figure of Perseus and Medusa, with the
bleeding head of the latter severed from the body, the marble group
of a young Roman warrior carrying off a Sabine female, whose father
is prostrate at his feet, the statues of priestesses, figures of huge
lions, &c.
One strolls along through the city, on some church festival, to the
Duomo, or cathedral of the thirteenth century, the walls of which
are of black and white polished marble, four hundred feet in length.
The front never was finished, but a project is now on foot for its
completion. The square tower, or Campanilla, of Arabic and Greek
architecture, of white, black, and red marble, stands beside it, and
rises two hundred and eighty feet in height. The baptistery, of octagon
form, somewhat resembling the Parthenon at Rome, stands opposite and
completes the trio.
The bronze doors are exceedingly beautiful, with festoons and foliage
prettily wrought. The marble columns, the altars, the twelve statues
representing the Apostles and the written laws, the trophies of
victory, won by the Republic against the Pisans--these, with other
adornments here, become so familiar to the eye, that when one drops
in on some festival occasion, or christening, his attention is more
directed to the personages and ceremonies than the contents of the
edifice.
Instead of wearying you with descriptions of works of art, I would
rather revert to the beauties of nature, at this season of the year,
in the neighborhood of Florence. The rides, walks, and views from the
surrounding hills, are now most agreeable and rarely excelled.