XCVII.
Turin, Kingdom of Sardinia, June 5, 1854.
Our steamer was a French one, and the commander having reputation for skill and caution, the little boat of two hundred and twenty horse power was inundated with passengers from Civita and Leghorn.
It was ridiculous but amusing to notice the rigor of the Neapolitan police. At the quay, before embarking, one has to have his baggage examined, or to slyly slip a piece of coin into the hands of the sentinel; then he passes to the office and gets a permit to embark, notwithstanding that his passport has already been visé by his own minister, the Neapolitan Minister of Foreign Affairs, the Inspector of the Marine, and a permit de sejour has been granted previously—all of which costs several dollars, for the benefit of the Neapolitan officials.
Once on board, you suppose yourself clear of the annoyance; but it is not so. Another scene of counting heads and calling names, to be sure that none are on board without being regularly labelled.
Our boat had arrived from Sicily, and what with Sicilian and Neapolitan passengers, every berth was occupied.
After leaving the bay of Naples, the sea was sufficient to quiet many passengers, and to give a seat at table, which by right could be retained. The following day, at Civita Vecchia, there came a rush of passengers from Rome, on their way to Leghorn and Florence. Fortunately the weather was fine, with a quiet sea; had it been otherwise, with hatches down, those below would have suffocated. Tents were pitched for the ladies on deck, and mattresses scattered about for the gentlemen. Such a democratic party of one hundred and thirty-seven passengers I had not met lately. It comprised a French consul and his family, and Greek servants, from Turkey, Italian counts and countesses, marquises, Spanish generals, English nobility, North and South Americans, German and other travellers, with all the dialects and tongues of Babel.
In such cases most parties are willing to conform to circumstances, although those who embarked first with us had great reason to complain of the abuse of the directors. The first breakfast was at nine, and dinner at four, and those who had to wait for the second and third tables were to be pitied.
At Leghorn we remained ten hours, and received as many passengers as we had landed; so our condition was not much improved.
My trip was just the opposite of one which I made last winter from France to the island of Sardinia, on board of a steamer of great size, when I occupied the entire cabin, the commander being my only table companion.
I rejoiced to get ashore, in the thriving city of Genoa, with civil custom-house officers and few police nuisances, breathing the air of constitutional liberty, and lodging in one of the former palaces, now the Hotel Feder—the inconveniences of the passage made me appreciate good quarters. I found myself casually occupying the apartment where the great Irish agitator, O’Connell, breathed his last.
Notwithstanding several visits to the City of Palaces, I spent a few days profitably. I shall not again describe the contents of the churches, the style of architecture, the marble and gilded decorations of the costly edifices, of the famed republic, but simply state that the intricate streets and numerous lanes, with their tall houses, not unlike those of Venice, have charms after leaving the broad and quadrangular streets of many of the cities of Southern Italy. Horse power is in requisition only in the broad streets and thoroughfares; but it is curious to watch the multitude threading their way through the winding passages, with little shops on each side—the women particularly, with white veils suspended from their heads, and falling over their shoulders.
The cafés and refreshment rooms are, as in all parts of Italy, supplied with the melody of harpists and violin-players of both sexes, who make the circuit, and pick up the crumbs from a musical people.
The gardens and promenades of the Aqua Sole, on the height commanding the harbor and valley, are frequented by all the beauty and wealth of the city on Sunday and other festival days.
On my last visit here Charles Albert, the liberal king, had undertaken the Italian cause against Austria, but had lost his throne, and died in exile.
Then the journey from Genoa to Turin was a fatiguing one of twenty-four hours; now the great railroad is open, and the trip is made in five hours. The distance is one hundred and ten miles; the work was done by the government at an immense expense. The tunnels (one of which, three miles in length, is a stupendous work) are all of arched masonry. Too much money was expended in the construction of this road to permit any interest to be paid: it cost over two hundred thousand dollars per mile.
Turin of late years has made greater advances in improvements than any of the cities of Italy; it may be attributed to its liberal government and the concentration in it of many thousand exiles, including many wealthy families from Lombardy. The full liberty of the press is enjoyed here, and quite as much liberty of speech as is consistent with constitutional government.
The great difficulty in harmonizing or bringing about a union of the Italian states, will be the different dialects. Here the Piedmontese patois is spoken. The journals are in Italian, also the shop signs, and the theatrical performances; but strange to say, the conversation of almost all classes is in the patois, and it is only the shopkeepers and the educated classes who speak Italian or French to strangers. In Genoa, another dialect prevails. In Milan, Venice, and Naples, they have their patois, and cannot understand each other. All this contributes to jealousy instead of unanimity, and enables designing rulers to keep the people in ignorance. The general introduction of railways and common schools would bring about a change.
The Constitutional Anniversary has just passed off with great satisfaction. The son and successor of Charles Albert, king Emanuel, is popular with the masses. He assisted in person, a few days since, at the opening of the new railroad to Suza, at the foot of the Alps.
A famous Amazon race came off on a recent festival day. The parade ground was about three-quarters of a mile in circumference; circles and stands were erected, similar to those in a race-course, to accommodate twenty thousand persons, the centre being occupied by the ladies of the royal household. Thirty thousand persons were spectators. The ladies rode well in the steeple-chase, their horses clearing the bars and mounds with frightful leaps; but they clung to their steeds beautifully.
Just before sunset there was a circus performance on a grand scale. Among the riders was a Hercules in the shape of a mulatto, who galloped two horses, standing erect, one foot on the back of each, and supporting one of the Amazons on his shoulders. The deer hunt was a failure. The deer was but little alarmed, and took it very kindly: the dogs sympathized with the deer, and some of them took to their heels in another direction, much to the amusement of the crowd and the annoyance of the manager, who made an explanation and gave an entertainment for the benefit of the poor.
Turin is, I believe, the only city of Italy where clubs are tolerated. The principal one is composed of the most respectable persons of the city, and occupies a commodious palace, with all the advantages of a library, reading-room, rational amusements, and an excellent table. Through the politeness of Marquis Palavecini, who, with his bride, was with us in southern Italy, I found myself registered upon the privileged list for a fortnight. Upon the tablet of sixteen invited guests, composed of counts, marquises, and barons, two of the number had no title; one of whom, however, was of the sovereign people from America; he dined at the round table d’hôte of eight with the diplomatic circle of Spain, Prussia, Belgium, and Naples. The liveried servants, and the presence of distinguished personages, did not seem in the least to suspend his appetite or prevent his enjoyment of a good dinner.
Turin, with its population of nearly two hundred thousand, its broad and well-paved streets, its long line of porticoes surrounding the public square and extending along the principal thoroughfare, protecting from sun and rain, has its attractions. Its position upon the banks of the Po, with long avenues of shade trees throughout the suburbs, affords fine views. The collection of antique horse armor and coats of mail in the palace, is the finest in Europe after the collection of Madrid.
The scarcity of grain this year diminishes the size of the bakers’ loaves, and the outcry of high prices is general, particularly among the poor, whose principal sustenance is bread and wine, both of which are deficient.
Turin is celebrated for its pipestem bread, a peculiarity of the city.
It is laughable, at the table d’hôte, to see each person take a handful of sticks nearly a yard long, and amuse himself in cracking this crisping and delicious article.
The coming crop promises to be abundant. The wheat appears of a strong and hard growth. The heads of rye begin to turn already a golden color; and the hay harvest has commenced. The strawberry and cherry season is passing, as I noticed apricots are already in market.