On the Sunday morning we came to a plain which, as well as the slopes adjacent, seemed fertile enough, and then passed through Sant’ Angelo, a pretty little town belonging to the Duke of Urbino, and lying on the banks of the Metaurus, the approaches thereto being very handsome. Because it was the eve of May-day they served us some of the little frogs that were wont to be eaten at Mid-Lent.[24] Continuing our course along the plain we passed through another village, called Marcatello, and having travelled ten miles along a road which, after quitting Marcatello, began to go uphill, we arrived for dinner at Borgo a Pasci, a small village with a wretched inn at a corner of the mountain. We took only a sup. Then we followed at first a wild and stony track, and had to mount for two miles to the top of the pass, after which came a descent of four miles, the road being stony and wearisome, but not frightful or dangerous, seeing that there were no precipices so abrupt that the eye could not find some point whereon to rest. We had followed the Metaurus to its first home, its source being in these mountains, and had seen it lose itself in the sea at Sinigaglia. As we descended from this height there came in sight a broad and lovely plain, through which ran the Tiber, here some eight miles from its source, and other mountains beyond; a view not unlike that which presents itself in the Limaigne of Auvergne to those who may come down from the Puy de Domme to Clermont. At the top of the pass we emerged from the dominions of the Duke of Urbino into those of the Duke of Florence, those of the Pope lying on the left hand. We arrived for supper at Borgo San Sepolcro, thirteen miles from our last halt.
This little town belongs to the Duke of Florence, and contains nought worth notice. We left it on the first of May, and a mile from the town we passed by a stone bridge over the Tiber, which is here a clear and beautiful stream, a proof that the dirty tawny hue which it bears at Rome—Flavum Tiberini—is caused by the admixture of some other stream. We went for four miles over this plain and came upon a little town on the top of the first hill we ascended. Here, as elsewhere along the road, divers young girls came to meet us, and took hold of our horses’ bridles, singing and begging a gift for the feast of the day. From this hill we descended into a deep stony valley which we followed for some time, riding beside the bed of a torrent, and then we had to mount another barren, stony hill, from the top of which we caught sight of a wide plain. In traversing this we crossed the Chiasso and the Arno by stone bridges, the bridge over the last-named stream being very fine and large; and, having ridden eighteen miles, we put up for the night at Ponte Boriano, where there was but one small house in which we were very badly lodged, as on the three previous nights, and indeed at well-nigh every halting-place on this route.
It would be the height of folly to bring good horses into these parts, seeing that no hay is to be got. After dinner we travelled over a long level track which was full of horrible gaping cracks made by the water in very strange fashion; a vile place to traverse in the winter, I can well imagine, but they are now repairing the road. After this we passed, about two miles to our left, the town of Arezzo, which stands in this same plain on a site which seemed somewhat higher than the surrounding country. We crossed the Ambra by a very high and handsome stone bridge, and supped at Levanella after a journey of ten miles. The inn stands a mile outside the village and has a great reputation, being reckoned—and with reason—to be the best in Tuscany, and indeed, judged by the Italian standard, it is one of the best anywhere. So excellent is the cheer that the neighbouring gentry—so we were told—often meet there, as at Le More’s[25] in Paris or at Guillot’s[26] at Amiens. They served us on pewter plates, a luxury very rare in these parts. The inn stands by itself, finely situated on level ground, out of which rises a spring of water. We left in the morning and travelled over the plain by a fine straight road, passing through four little walled towns, Montevarchi, S. Giovanni, Figline, and Ancisa,[27] and reached Pian della Fonte in time for dinner, after riding twelve miles.
The inn here is indifferent: near by is a spring, a little above Ancisa in the Val d’Arno, which is celebrated by Petrarch; indeed, it is held by some that Ancisa was his birthplace. Certainly they claim this honour for a house some mile distant, of which now only a few paltry fragments remain: in any case they point out the place.[28] Here they were planting melons amongst others which had been planted some time before, in the expectation of gathering the same in August. This morning I felt my head heavy and my sight troubled, these being symptoms of those headaches with which I have been affected for the last ten years. This valley was formerly a morass, and Livy relates how Hannibal was forced to ride an elephant when he traversed it, and lost one of his eyes on account of the severity of the season:[29] it is assuredly a flat and low-lying country and greatly at the mercy of the floods of the Arno. I refused to eat at dinner, but I repented of this, for had I eaten I might have vomited, and I always find the speediest remedy thereby. Otherwise I am troubled by my head for a day or two, as was now the case. The road was crowded with country-folk taking provisions to Florence, where we arrived after crossing one of the four stone bridges over the Arno, having ridden twelve miles.
On the morrow, after we had heard mass, we set forth and turned a little from our direct route to go visit Castello,[30] of which I have spoken in another place; but it chanced that, when we arrived there, the duke’s daughters, who were in residence, were just passing through the garden to hear mass, wherefore we were requested to wait a while, but this I was not disposed to do. On this road we met several processions. First came the banner, then the women, most of whom are very good-looking, and all wearing straw hats, which they make better here than anywhere else;[31] these moreover were very well clad for villagers, some wearing heeled shoes and some white slippers. After the women the priest walked, and after him the men. The day before we had met a procession of monks, almost every one of them wearing a straw hat.
Our road led us through a plain very fair and wide, and here, in sooth, I was bound to admit that neither Orleans, nor Tours, nor even Paris, can boast of environs so richly set with villages and houses as Florence; which, with regard to fine houses and palaces, comes first without a doubt. Continuing our way, we came, after riding ten miles, to Prato in time for dinner. This small town, belonging to the Duke of Florence, is situated on the river Bisenzio, which we crossed by a stone bridge at the entry to the town. In no other country are the bridges so numerous or so well maintained; moreover, along the highways we frequently saw large stone pillars inscribed with notices as to what State was responsible for the repair of the roads. At Prato, in the palace, we saw the name and the arms of the Legate Du Prat,[32] who was, as they told us, a native of this place. Over the door of the palace is a large statue, crowned and holding an orb in the hand, and at the feet thereof is written Rex Robertus.[33] The people here affirm that the town once belonged to us, and, certes, the fleurs de lys are everywhere to be seen, and the arms of the town are fleurs de lys or on a field gules. The cathedral here is a fine one, and adorned with a quantity of black and white marble.
On leaving Prato we again went off our road and journeyed some four miles to visit Poggio,[34] a house belonging to the duke, situated on the Ombrone, of which they make great boast. It is built on the plan of Pratolino, and what is remarkable about it is that the builders were able to find room for a hundred fair chambers in so small a space. Amongst other things I saw there many sets of very beautiful bed furniture, albeit of no great value, seeing that they were of that light variegated stuff made entirely of fine wool, interwoven with a fourfold thread of taffetas of the same shade. We saw there also the laboratory of the duke, and his work-room fitted with a lathe and other instruments, this prince being a great mechanician. Thence we went fourteen miles by a direct road running through an exceedingly fertile country, the road being fenced in by a hedge formed by the vines attached to the trees, a very beautiful sight, and arrived at Pistoia in time for supper.
This is a large town on the Ombrone, with broad streets, paved, like those of Florence, Prato, Lucca, and other places, with large, wide slabs of stone. I forgot to say that, from the apartments at Poggio, Florence, Prato, and Pistoia may be seen when sitting at table. While we were there the duke was at Pratolino. At Pistoia we saw very few people about the streets; but the churches are fine, as well as many of the houses. I inquired concerning the sale of the straw hats, which they make at fifteen soldi apiece, and which, in my opinion, would be well worth as many francs in France. In ancient times Catiline was overthrown in a battle close to the town.[35] In one of the rooms at Poggio is some tapestry representing hunting of all sorts, and I remarked that one of these was an ostrich chase, the birds being followed by men on horseback and pierced with javelins. The Latins called Pistoia Pistorium,[36] and it now belongs to the Duke of Florence. Legend records that the ancient feuds of the houses of Cancellieri[37] and Panciatici reduced its population greatly, so that now it does not contain more than eight thousand people, while Lucca, which is no bigger as a city, numbers twenty-five thousand or more. Messer Taddeo Rospigliosi, who had received from Rome a letter written in my favour by Giovanni Franchini, invited me and all those of my company to dine at his house on the morrow. His palace was full of ornament, but the service at table was somewhat rough, and the supply of meat and of attendants was scanty. Additional wine was served after dinner as in Germany. We went to the principal church, and remarked that the elevation of the Host was accompanied by the sound of trumpets, while amongst the boys in the choir were several priests who played upon sackbuts. This poor city pretends to make up for its lost liberties by maintaining a vain semblance of its ancient state. There are nine priors and a Gonfalonier, who are elected every two months, and have the charge of public order. They are maintained by the duke, as they were formerly by the Republic, and lodged in the palace, which they scarcely ever quit, save when they go out all together, being kept continually under restraint.[38] The Gonfalonier walks in front of the Podestà, the ducal officer who possesses all the real power, and returns no salutation made to him, simulating a dignity which is altogether imaginary. I felt pity at the sight of men thus satisfied with these apish tricks; moreover, the Grand Duke now wrings from them a tax tenfold greater than what was paid formerly.
In most of the large gardens of Italy the principal alleys are laid down with grass, which is kept mown. Just at this season the cherries began to ripen, and on our way from Pistoia to Lucca we met divers villagers, who offered baskets of strawberries for sale. We set out on Ascension Day after dinner, and for a time kept to the plain; then the road became somewhat mountainous, but we soon emerged upon another fine wide stretch of level country. All about the corn-fields are rows of trees, each tree being attached to its neighbour by vines, wherefore these fields have all the appearance of gardens. The mountains on each side of this road are thickly wooded, chiefly with olives, chestnuts, and mulberries for silkworms. At the end of twenty miles we came upon Lucca, situated in the plain aforesaid, a town about one-third smaller than Bordeaux, and free, except that by reason of its weakness it has put itself under the protection of the Emperor and the house of Austria.[39] It is well walled and strengthened with bastions, but the ditches are shallow, and only a scant stream of water flows through the same. Moreover, at the bottom they are full of green plants with wide flat leaves. All round the walls, on the level ground within, are planted two or three rows of trees which afford shade, and would serve, according to what I heard, for fascines in case of need. Viewed from without the place looks like a wood, for the houses are concealed by the trees aforesaid. A guard of three hundred foreign[40] soldiers is always kept.
The town is well peopled, principally by silk workers;[41] the streets are narrow but handsome, with fine lofty mansions on all sides. They were then constructing a small canal whereby to bring into the city the water of the Serchio, and building a public palace, at a cost of a hundred and thirty thousand crowns, which is almost completed. Besides the townsfolk they claim a population of a hundred and twenty thousand subjects, several small villages, but no other town lying within their jurisdiction. The gentle-folk and warriors of the place are all of the merchant class, the Buonvisi being the most wealthy, and strangers are allowed to enter only by one gate, where there is always a strong guard. I never saw a town in a more pleasant site, surrounded as it is by a most beautiful plain two leagues in extent, and beyond this the lovely mountains and hills, which for the most part are cultivated to the tops. The wines are only passable, and living costs about twenty soldi per diem, the inns being, after the manner of the country, indifferent. Many gentlemen of the city paid me courteous attentions, sending me wine and fruit, and even offering to accommodate me with money.