I have not been quite so inattentive as you imagine to the political state of the countries through which I have passed, but it would take as much time to collect opinions, and form a correct judgment, as it does to study the styles and dates of all the architecture I meet with; and as I cannot do both, I stick to that which belongs to me. Some things force themselves on the notice of the most careless observer, and some opinions will be formed from listening to casual conversation, and combining and comparing the different sentiments one hears. I will then communicate my speculations such as they are, without any fear that you should attach too much value to them. I believe I have already mentioned meeting some Englishmen at Bex, who had conversed a good deal with Olivier, the minister at Nismes, and received from him a distinct denial of the letter to the Duke of Richelieu, attributed to him; I have been reading to-day, in the Italian papers, the proclamation of the prefect of the departement du Gard; and the violent, intemperate spirit it exhibits, may serve as a comment on his previous conduct. It is called expressly in these papers, the persecution of the protestants. On this side of the Alps, nobody has thought it worth while to deny, what is so well known to be the fact.
In Savoy I found the people rejoicing that the conscription was at an end; and the Genevese were proud of their recovered liberty and increased consequence. In the Pays de Vaud the people seemed satisfied with the present state of things, and some of my occasional travelling companions have formed the same opinion of the Canton of Bern; I was not equally fortunate, for I heard little from the inhabitants but grumbling and discontent, at being restored to the government of a tyrannical oligarchy. In the Vallais, Napoleon is decidedly regretted by the mass of the people, but this I apprehend is in great measure owing to the road of the Simplon, the execution of which diffused a quantity of money among the inhabitants, and gave a stimulus to their activity with which they were before unacquainted. The road, now it is made, also affords a great facility to commerce, and creates a traffic through the country which is of great advantage to it. I see it was lately debated in the Helvetic diet whether this road should be destroyed. If they decide in the affirmative, it will preserve the Vallaisans in their original poverty and idleness, and make them pray with increased fervour for the return of Napoleon. On crossing the Alps, one finds little change in political opinions. I do not know what is the constitution of the Vallais, but I suspect the existence of an oligarchy or aristocracy, whose feelings do not coincide with those of the bulk of the people: in the Milanese, high and low, rich and poor, seem to be alike Napoleonists, and in the Venetian states it is much the same. Even at Bologna, I believe the bulk of the people would be glad to be again under his government, though superstition is very strong among them. Added to this, all my countrymen, in this part of the world, seem to be Napoleonists, or travelling towards it. Nor is there any thing strange in this; Italy says aloud, that she has nothing to thank England for, in restoring to her the multiplied abuses of her old governments. In endeavouring to keep the sword in the hands of France, Napoleon appears to have made the conscription much heavier on her, than on any of her allies; at least, one hears few complaints of it in Italy and Switzerland; and when we contemplate on the other hand, how much good was done; public works, both of utility and magnificence everywhere carried on; the arts and sciences protected and encouraged; an excellent code of laws, well administered, and what is more extraordinary, political institutions calculated to bring the people to act together, and favourable in no small degree to public liberty; one cannot but regret that the extravagant ambition of that man should have rendered his authority incompatible with the peace of Europe. Nor could I at all fear the duration of despotic power; the seeds of liberty were so extensively sown; the plants had gained, and were annually gaining so much strength; that if but a few years of the progress had continued, and the strong hand which directed their growth was then withdrawn; it was impossible that they should not display themselves. It may appear a strange paradox, but it was certainly true, that from a despotic government, Italy was drinking deeply the true spirit of liberty; under a foreign power, acquiring rapidly the sentiment of independence, and both circumstances were to be traced to the just and equal laws, which did not permit one class of men to oppress another, and which were gradually eradicating all the bad habits and bad principles, resulting from a long continuance of corrupt institutions; which united all classes in the administration of the municipal governments; and from the gradual subsidence of those prejudices which animated one town and one little territory against another. Now, every thing is altered for the worse; the consistent code of laws acting uniformly over the whole country is abolished, and the old defective ones, differently modified in every city, are restored; a very few only of the most glaring abuses being rectified. The finance laws indeed have not been changed; they were too productive to be abandoned. With all this, it must be remembered, that however the Italians might feel the advantages of Napoleon’s government, they have no sort of partiality for the French nation. I am persuaded that your notion is perfectly just, and that if at the end of the campaign of 1814, Napoleon could have secured for himself the crown of Italy, or if now it were possible, that he should obtain it without that of France; all classes, both in the Milanese and the old Venetian states would hail his arrival with transport. You must not, however, expect any great efforts from them, or much personal risk for any political object. They are not sufficiently habituated to think of themselves as an essential part of the state machine, nor enough accustomed to act in union for any great purpose, nor have they sufficient confidence in each other. Every body knows that the Italians do not like the Austrian government. You know the emperor has changed his title, and from being Francis the Second, is become Francis the First. I was talking in the public saloon in the inn at Padua, about this alteration, “Sì,” said an Italian gentleman, “si chiamava Francesco secondo, adesso si chiama Francesco primo, e sarà, forse Francesco unico.” They laugh at the Germans, and affect to despise them, but they hate the French more; and this feeling seems particularly strong in the ancient territory of Venice. I had a long conversation with a young man who acted as porter to the diligence at Vicenza, an office for which he is very unfit, as he is of a very slender make, and in attempting to carry my trunk found himself not sufficiently strong. Under the French he had an employment in the military hospital, and all business there was transacted in Italian. When the Austrians came, it was to be transacted in German, and this young fellow was consequently turned out. Necessity drove him to undertake any thing by which he could gain his bread; meanwhile he is studying German, in hope of regaining some situation similar to that which he had lost. Here seem motives enough for soreness towards the Austrians, yet he preferred them to the French, whose continual change of system kept up a continual irritation. The Austrian hand is as heavy, or heavier than that of the French, but it lies more quietly on the parts accustomed to bear it. The feeling of discontent at present observable everywhere, depends chiefly on the general poverty, and on the want of profitable employment, and these arise from a defective harvest and vintage, and from a different mode of spending the public money. During the French administration, a large proportion of the revenue was spent in the country, and a good deal of it in works of public utility; now, whether for show, or use, or waste, every thing goes to Vienna. Public amusements are cheap; you pay at the opera ten pence, instead of ten shillings, but every thing else is dear. The Italians complain that all the necessaries of life are at least half as dear again as they were two years ago, and they attribute this to the heavy taxes, and to all the money being taken out of the country, and nothing spent in it. “Napoleon,” said a gentleman to me at Milan, “plucked the chicken, but blew the feathers about; Francis plucks it still closer, and puts the feathers in his pocket. In Napoleon’s time there was a splendid court and large salaries, which were all spent in the country. Roads were made, bridges and public buildings erected; now nothing is done! Napoleon had numerous Italian soldiers; Francis has none, or hardly any. A lieutenant under Napoleon had a hundred and twenty francs per month; now he has about fifty.” In whatever manner a political subject begins, it ends in praise of Napoleon. Such remarks may be true, but mere want of money cannot make corn, rice, oil, and polenta, dear, though it may occasion a great deal of suffering; on the contrary, it would rather reduce the prices, though it would reduce in a still greater degree the means of purchase; misery makes people discontented, and discontent makes them unjust. Mendicity is in the greatest excess, and the beggars besiege the coffee-houses and churches, at neither of which I dare give any thing, for if I did, I must give up all hope of a quiet breakfast at the one, or of writing any observations, or making any sketches in the other; but the present distress of the country is so great, that one cannot be surprised or angry. You are sometimes attacked by noble beggars, both male and female, who whisper to you their demand for charity.
The Italians, I believe, like the English, both as a nation and individually, but there are some among them who are fond of proclaiming their hatred to us. If you take the trouble to inquire into the cause of this hatred, you are almost sure to find that it proceeds from our steady opposition to Napoleon. They consider the rest of Europe as having been merely the tools of the English, and they are much dissatisfied with the line of conduct adopted by the allies, all of which they attribute to us. It is wonderful to see to what an extent the notion is carried, both in France and Italy, that when England chooses to exert herself, she can do whatever she pleases. Even at Paris, many people are professedly angry with the English, merely because they did not prevent the spoliation of the gallery. In short whatever is done, is attributed to England, and whatever they wish done, which is not done, they suppose the English to have prevented. However this tribute to our power and consequence may flatter our national vanity, it is so misplaced as to be sometimes provoking, especially when they complain of our not interfering, when we had clearly no right to interfere. As to the allies, however, the Bolognese have just cause of complaint, and I believe they have it in common with many other Italian cities. Under the old government they had many privileges, and possessed some share of political freedom. They paid a certain sum annually to the papal government, which neither had nor claimed any right to load them with new taxes for its own advantage. Under the French, these privileges were partially destroyed; but considerable authority was vested in the municipality, and the general government interfered little, or not at all, with their internal policy; while on the other hand, the greater freedom given to their commerce, left them gainers by the exchange. Now they are given up to the absolute and uncontrolled dominion of the pope. Can you tell me if legitimacy can be predicated of kings alone, or do other forms of government partake of it? The notion of ancient rights and property is a fine thing, and the allies doubtless insisted upon it with great justice from the French; but do we not want a fresh coalition, to make Russia disgorge Poland, and Austria the Venetian states. Till this is done, it may be fair at least to suspect, that the late contest was merely a struggle for power, and that ambition and knavery existed as much on one side as on the other.
Even in Italy, Bologna is spoken of as a place whose inhabitants are very superstitious. They are accused of wearing their hats lightly on their heads, for the facility of pulling them off, on passing before the numerous paintings of the Madonnas and saints which are found in the streets. Some of them talked to me in a most serious manner, of the miraculous virtues of a figure of the Virgin made by St. Luke, and of the great confidence which the inhabitants placed in it. They have four patron saints, to whom their devotion seems very warm; and I read in one of their churches, a long form of prayer, recommended to be used towards one of them, (S. Petronio) to whom every possible excellence and power seem to be attributed, and who is implored to place the petitioner in Paradise. Towards the end is added a request, that he would obtain for them the grace and favour of God, perhaps to avoid the charge of idolatry, for the saint seems all in all through the rest of the prayer. In the long arcade which leads to the church of the Madonna del Monte, the passenger is requested not to scribble upon, or otherwise deface the walls and columns, “for if thou fear not the punishment assigned by the law to such misdeeds, yet tremble at the indignation of the Virgin, to whom these piers and arches belong.” Indulgences are posted up at every church, of ten, twenty, fifty, up to four hundred years; but plenary indulgence is had on such easy terms, that these are hardly worth notice. It is true that all such indulgences are promised only on sincere repentance; yet even a Roman Catholic might observe, that they represent the Almighty as less merciful than the Pope, and as granting exclusively at his instance, that compassion and forgiveness which have been promised to all mankind. We may add also, that it is impossible they should not convey a feeling, that a repentance less perfect and sincere, a contrition less deep and heartfelt, will be accepted under these terms, than would have been the case without them, and the fact seems to be, that the slightest sentiment of regret for the fault or crime committed, is too often considered as sufficient. While it is so easy to escape, one might imagine purgatory would be uninhabited. Yet lest any of their friends should be so foolish as to go there, and strange follies are sometimes committed, it is a common practice at Bologna, to repeat a rosary before they go to bed, consisting of a series of prayers to the Virgin Mary, in favour of the souls in purgatory. In Roman Catholic countries a bell is rung at the close of day, and in ancient times, every body stopt on hearing it, crossed himself, took off his hat, and repeated a short prayer. At Venice this seems little attended to, and at Bologna it is not much observed in the streets; but in the house, the master and Sig. Paolo always rise, put their knees on a chair, cross themselves, and repeat the prayer. The Padrona in general contrived to lose no time; and was either knitting, or taking care of the fire, or otherwise employed in some domestic arrangement, while her lips repeated the words; and in general it seems as if, provided the prayer were said, it was no matter how the attention wandered. There would be something very beautiful in thus calling to the minds of all the inhabitants of a great city, that they were Christians, and warning them to do nothing inconsistent with that character, if experience did not shew how necessarily such an observance degenerates into an empty superstition.
I cannot leave Bologna without mentioning to you its great living wonder, Professor Mezzofanti, who understands thirty-four languages (including however, the different dialects of Italy) and who is as amiable and obliging as he is learned. I was astonished at the facility with which he changes from one language to another, talking to me in English, to another person in Italian, to my friend Vracliotti, the young Greek student, in modern Greek, to a Polish princess who came to visit the university, in her own language, and in French to a gentleman of that nation, who accompanied her; and giving directions to the attendants in the library, in Bolognese; all in the course of a few minutes, and without ever confounding one language with another, or seeming in the least at a loss. In speaking our tongue, I perceived that I could detect him to be a foreigner in the cadence of his sentences, but hardly ever, or perhaps never, in the pronunciation of individual words. This is the more wonderful, as his knowledge of the language is derived entirely from books, and his guide to its sounds has been Sheridan’s Pronouncing Dictionary.
LETTER XXI.
FLORENCE.
Florence,[[38]] 25th December, 1816.
I left Bologna on the 14th. Although the vettura arrived at my lodging at half past five, we did not leave the city till half past seven; because a servant boy who was to have rode in the front, and who, according to our vetturino, had received half a scudo as caparre, never made his appearance. I do not know how to translate this word caparre. Earnest seems to imply the payment in advance, of a portion of what will ultimately become due; but here he pays who is ultimately to receive. Indeed, the whole system is very different from that of our country. It is usual to set out very early in the morning, and after travelling about twenty miles, stop for two or three hours, and then proceed twelve or fifteen miles more, with the same horses. In summer the journeys are longer, and so is the mid-day stop; but I believe a regulation is in force, that the vetturino shall not go farther than forty miles in one day, in order that he may not interfere with the posting. At night the vetturino pays for your supper, fire, and bed; but you pay for whatever you have in the middle of the day, and for breakfast, if you choose any. The usual practice among the Italians, when travelling, seems to be to make only two meals in the day, taking in the morning merely a cup of coffee without milk, a scanty dinner, and as good a supper as the vetturino will give them. Generally speaking, you pay about two crowns (or dollars) per diem, with something more where there are mountains to cross, and where they have to attach bullocks or additional horses to the carriage; or in short, when there is any particular circumstance on the road, which increases the expense to the vetturino. It is usual to add a mancia, or present to the driver, if you are served to your satisfaction; and this may be reckoned at about two pauls per day.
The road lies across the Apennines, which consist in a general view, of one very gentle, but extensive swell, intersected by deep winding vallies. The sides of these vallies are generally steep, but not absolutely precipitous, or materially rocky, except in a few points which start up above the rest. They are very much covered with wood, principally of chesnut-trees, and present a variety of pleasing scenery. If you can in your imagination magnify considerably, the country about Tunbridge Wells, you will perhaps have as competent an idea as I can give you, of this part of the range. Our driver was very anxious to get to Florence on the second night, that he might not have to pay our expenses again, and we consequently arrived at this city at about un’ ora e mezza di notte. We reckon here by Italian time, beginning at the Ave Maria, a little after sunset, and reckoning round for twenty-four hours, till the Ave Maria of the next evening.
Florence as a city does not please me so well as Bologna; the streets are narrower, and the palaces are like prisons. These streets are paved with flag-stones of irregular forms, variously fitted to each other. They have the appearance of wide foot-alleys; so that while at Paris every body has to walk on the carriage-road, at Florence all the carriages seem to be on the foot-path.