... Public affairs go on admirably. A few weeks ago the elections took place of the members of the Tuscan parliament with a calm and tranquillity of which you have no idea. Every proprietor who pays 15 pauls of taxes (75 pence) has a vote. There are 180 members, consisting of the most ancient nobility, the richest proprietors, the most distinguished physicians and lawyers, and the most respectable merchants. They hold their meetings in the magnificent hall of the Palazzo Vecchio—the Sala Dei Cinquecento. The first two or three days were employed in choosing a president &c., &c.; then a day was named to determine the fate of the house of Lorraine. I could not go, but Martha went with a Tuscan friend. There was no speaking; the vote was by ballot, and each member separately went up to a table before the president, and silently put his ball into a large vase. Two members poured the balls into a tray, and on examination, said, "No division is necessary; they are all black,"—which was followed by long and loud cheering. They have been equally unanimous in the Legations in Parma and Modena; and the wish of the people is to form one kingdom of these four states under an Italian prince, excluding all Austrians for ever. The union is perfect, and the determination quiet but deep and unalterable. If the Archduke is forced upon them, it must be by armed force, which the French emperor will not likely permit, after the Archduke was fool enough to fight against him at Solferino. All the four states have unanimously voted union with Piedmont; but they do not expect it to be granted. The destinies of Europe are now dependent on the two emperors....
FROM MRS. SOMERVILLE TO W. GREIG, ESQ.
Florence, 23rd April, 1860.
You would have had this letter sooner, my dearest Woronzow, if I had not been prevented from writing to you yesterday evening.... The weather has been atrocious; deluges of rain night and day, and so cold that I have been obliged to lay in a second supply of wood. The only good day, and the only one I have been out, was that on which the king arrived. It fortunately was fine, and the sight was magnificent; quite worthy of so great an historical event. No carriages were allowed after the guns fired announcing that the king had left Leghorn; so we should have been ill off, had it not been for the kindness of our friend the Marchesa Lajatico, who invited us to her balcony, which is now very large, as they have built an addition to their house for the eldest son and his pretty wife. We were there some hours before the king arrived; but as all the Florentine society was there, and many of our friends from Turin and Genoa, we found it very agreeable. The house is in the Prato, very near the gate the king was to enter. On each side of it stages were raised like steps in an amphitheatre, which were densely crowded, every window decorated with gaily-coloured hangings and the Italian flag; the streets were lined with "guardie civiche," and bands of music played from time to time. The people shouted "Evviva!" every time a gun was fired. In the midst of this joy, there appeared what resembled a funeral procession—about a hundred emigrants following the Venetian, Roman, and Neapolitan colours, all hung with black crape; they were warmly applauded, and many people shed tears. They went to the railway station just without the gate to meet the King, and when they hailed him as "Rè d'Italia!" he was much affected. At last he appeared riding a fine English horse, Prince Carignan on one hand and Baron Ricasoli on his left, followed by a numerous "troupe dorée" of generals and of his suite in gay uniforms and well mounted. The King rides well; so the effect was extremely brilliant. Then followed several carriages; in the first were Count Cavour, Buoncompagni, and the Marchese Bartolommei. You cannot form the slightest idea of the excitement; it was a burst of enthusiasm, and the reception of Cavour was as warm. We threw a perfect shower of flowers over him, which the Marchesa had provided for the occasion; and her youngest son Cino, a nice lad, went himself to present his bouquet to the King, who seemed quite pleased with the boy. I felt so much for Madame de Lajatico herself.... I said to her how kind I thought it in her to open her house; she burst into tears, and said, though she was in deep affliction, she could not be so selfish as not offer her friends the best position in Florence for seeing what to many of them was the most important event in their lives, as it was to her even in her grief. The true Italian taste appeared to perfection in every street through which the procession passed to the Duomo, and thence to the Palazzo Pitti. Those who saw it declare nothing could surpass the splendour of the cathedral when illuminated; but that we could not see, nor did we see the procession again; it was impossible to penetrate the crowd. They say there are 40,000 strangers in Florence.... I was much too tired to go out again to see the illuminations and the fireworks on the Ponte Carraja; your sisters saw it all, so I leave them to tell you all about it. The King and Prince are terribly early; they and Ricasoli are on horseback by five in the morning; the King dines at twelve, and never touches food afterwards, though he has a dinner party of 60 or 80 every day at six.... Now, my dearest Woronzow, I must end, for I do not wish to miss another post. I am really wonderfully well for my age.
Your devoted mother,
Mary Somerville.
FROM MRS. SOMERVILLE TO W. GREIG, ESQ.
Florence, 19th June, 1861.
... Italy has been thrown into the deepest affliction by the death of Cavour. In my long life I never knew any event whatever which caused so universal and deep sorrow. There is not a village or town throughout the whole peninsula which has not had a funeral service, and the very poorest people, who had hardly clothes on their backs, had black crape tied round their arm or neck. It was a state of consternation, and no wonder! Every one felt that the greatest and best man of this century has been taken away before he had completely emancipated his country. All the progress is due to him, and to him alone; the revolution has called forth men of much talent, yet the whole are immeasurably his inferior in every respect—even your friend, Ricasoli, who is most able, and the best successor that can be found, is, compared with Cavour, as Tuscany to Europe. Happily the sad loss did not occur sooner. Now things are so far advanced that they cannot go back, and I trust that Ricasoli, who is not wanting in firmness and moral courage, will complete what has been so happily begun. I am sorry to say he is not in very good health, but I trust he will not fall into the hands of the physician who attended Cavour, and who mistook his disease, reduced him by loss of blood, and then finding out his real illness, tried to strengthen him when too late. There was a most excellent article in the "Times" on the two statesmen.