I heard the following remarkable story when I was at these baths. A man of the place, a soldier named Giuseppe, who is still alive and engaged on one of the penal galleys of Genoa, was captured by the Turks in a sea-fight. To gain his liberty he became a Turk himself, a step which has been taken by divers of the people of these mountains who are still living, was circumcised, and married a wife. Being engaged in a predatory raid on this coast he advanced so far one day that his retreat was cut off, and, together with several other Turks, was captured by the people, who had risen in defence. He at once determined to declare that he had come there in good faith, and that he was a Christian, wherefore a few days later he was set at liberty, and he came to this place to the house in front of my lodgings, where he met his mother. She asked him roughly who he was, and what he wanted, for he was still wearing his sailor’s garb and was a strange object in such a place. Then he made himself known to her, and, after having been as it were lost ten or twelve years, kissed his mother, who shrieked aloud and fell senseless and showed no sign of life until the next day, the physicians being in despair of her. She came round at last, but she died soon afterwards, every one being of the opinion that this shock shortened her life. Giuseppe was made much of by the neighbours, went to church to abjure his errors, received the sacrament from the bishop of Lucca, and took part in divers other ceremonies, but all this was hypocrisy. His heart was still with the Turks, and, in order to rejoin them, he left this place for Venice, whence he gained some Turkish port and once more took to the seas. He was again captured by the Genoese, and, because he was a man of unusual strength and well versed in seafaring, they have kept him ever since in their service, securely fettered on one of their galleys.
In this country they keep registered a large number of soldiers taken from the inhabitants for the service of the State. The colonels of this force have no other duties than to drill the men under them frequently, to teach them the use of firearms, and how to skirmish, and other similar exercises. The rank and file are all of this country and receive no pay, but they are allowed to wear armour and to carry arquebuses and whatsoever arms they like: moreover, they are exempt from arrest for debt, and in the time of war are paid. For other duties there are captains, ensigns, and sergeants: only the colonels are paid permanently, and these must needs be men of some other State. Colonel del Borgo, who had visited me the day before, sent to me from his station some four miles distant sixteen lemons and sixteen artichokes.
Again I will remark that I found here very pleasant and convenient lodging, and was fully as comfortable as in Rome, what though my chamber had neither chimney nor glass windows nor even linen shutters, a fact which shows how much less stormy this climate must be than our own. In France, indeed, it would be deemed an intolerable nuisance to find nothing wherewith to close the window openings but wooden shutters. With this one exception my bed-chamber was well found, though their beds are wretched little trestles, upon which they place pieces of wood, fashioned according to the length and breadth of the bed, a palliasse being laid on these, and a mattress over all. Then you may sleep well enough if only you have hangings. To keep the trestles and woodwork out of sight you may adopt three courses: you may use narrow pieces of stuff, the same fabric as the hangings—this I did in Rome; you may have your hangings made long enough to cover the whole, and this is the best plan; or you may have a coverlet of light stuff, such as white fustian, fastened at the corners with buttons, and made long enough to reach the floor, the bed being furnished with another coverlet underneath for warmth. At least I learnt to adopt this fashion in a general way for the people in my service, having nought to provide but the truckle-beds. They are comfortable to lie in, and you are safe from bugs.
On this same day I dined and then took a bath, thus running contrary to all the rules of the place, which maintain that the one function stands in the way of the other, and that they should never happen close together, a course of drinking and a course of bathing being the usual practice. For eight days patients drink the water, then take thirty baths, drinking at one bath and bathing in the other. To-day I found the bath very soothing and pleasant. I remained in it half-an-hour, and felt no effect save a slight perspiration about supper-time. I went to bed after my bath, and afterwards supped off a sweetened lemon salad without drink of any kind. If I may give an opinion concerning these waters I would say they can do little harm or good; that they are ineffectual and feeble, and the fear is that they may inflame the kidneys rather than purge them. On the Thursday morning I took five pounds’ weight, being somewhat apprehensive that the effect might not be favourable, and indeed so it turned out. While I was writing that same morning to M. Ossat, I fell thinking of M. de la Boetie,[46] and I remained in this mood so long that I sank into the saddest humour. The bed of the stream from which the drinking water comes is red and coated with rust, wherefore, seeing that it was likewise very insipid, I concluded that it contained much iron and would be binding in its effect; indeed little came of what I took on this Thursday. Medicine, after all, is a poor affair. I said casually a little time ago that I repented having taken so strong a purge inasmuch as this water, finding vacancy within, acted as nutriment.
I have just read concerning these waters, in a book written by one Donati,[47] a physician, his advice being to take a light dinner and a good supper; and, from my experience after drinking the water for another day, I decided that his view was the correct one. Franciotti, another doctor, controverts him in this and in divers other particulars. That same day I had a feeling of heaviness about the back, which I feared might be caused by the stagnation in that region of the water I had drunk, but the outcome of the day’s treatment did not justify this suspicion. On the Friday I took no water at all, but bathed in the morning and washed my head, acting thus counter to the approved usage of the place. Another local custom is to aid the action of the water by mixing therewith some such drug as sugar candy or manna, or some medicine still stronger; others mix with the first glass they drink a certain quantity of the water of Tettucio, which I tasted and found it salt. I suspect that the apothecaries here, instead of fetching this water from Pistoia, where it is said to rise, make an imitation thereof out of ordinary water, for I found it had, in addition to its saltness, a very strange flavour. It is warmed and one, two, or three glasses of it taken to begin with, but I never knew that it had any effect. There are those who put salt in the first, or the second, or even the third glass of water they take; moreover, they hold that to sweat or to go to sleep after drinking, points almost surely to a fatal crisis. In my case I found the water strongly sudorific. [48] Let me now try to discourse a little in another language, especially as I am now in that district where meseems I may listen to the most refined Tuscan accent, particularly amongst the country-folk, who have not corrupted or changed their idiom through intercourse with neighbouring peoples. Early on Saturday morning I went to take some of the spring of Bernabo[49] which lies on the other side of these mountains and gives a marvellous abundance of water, both hot and cold. The hill is of no great height, and may be about three miles in circumference. The only water that is drunk is that of the principal spring and of this one, which came into use a few years ago. A certain leper named Bernabo, after having drunk and bathed at all the other springs, betook himself to this abandoned bath and was straightway cured, whereupon it came into vogue. There are no houses, only one little shed and stone benches around the spout of the spring, which is made of iron. This spout, though it was fixed not long ago, is almost entirely eaten away from below, its destruction being caused, as the people there declare, by the action of some property of the water, which I can easily believe. These springs are somewhat hotter than the others and are commonly supposed to be at the same time less digestible and more violent in action, the water being slightly more sulphurous; where it drips, the ground is whitened as if ashes had been strewn there. The water of our own springs has this same property, but only slightly. This spring is a little less than a mile from my lodgings by going round the foot of the hill, its site being much lower than that of any other hot spring, and distant one or two pikes’ length from the river.
The day previous I had taken a long walk of three miles or so after dinner in the hot sun, and again after supper. The effect of this water upon me was an increase of strength, and I began to digest it half-an-hour after taking it; moreover, I made a good round of two miles on the way back to my lodgings. Perhaps this abnormal exercise may have made me feel young again. Every other morning I had gone straight back to my room to avoid the chill of the morning air, my house not being more than thirty paces from the spring. In my walks over the slopes of these hills, I came upon many sources of hot water, and the country-folk declare furthermore that in the winter certain places give out steam, a proof of the existence of still more hot springs. The samples of these which I tasted seemed, in comparison with my particular spring, about equally hot and without either smell or taste or vapour. I observed at another place in Corsena, some way below the baths, a great number of douches much better arranged than the others I have named, the pipes thereof being supplied by a number of springs, eight or ten, so the people say. Over each pipe is written the name of its peculiar spring: La Saporita, La Dolce, La Innamorata, La Coronale, La Disperata, &c., and a description of the effects thereof. I can say for certain that some pipes give out hotter water than others.
The surrounding hills are almost all productive of corn and grapes, whereas fifty years ago they were covered with thicket and chestnut woods. A few bare mountains with snow on the summits may be seen, but they are a long way off. The common people eat what they call pane di legna, which is the expression they use in speaking of chestnut-bread, this fruit being the great crop of the country, and the cake they make therewith is something like French gingerbread. I never saw elsewhere so many snakes and toads; indeed, through fear of the snakes, the children do not dare to gather the strawberries, which grow most abundantly on the hills and amongst the hedges.
Some of the people here take three or four grains of coriander in every glass of water they drink, as a remedy for wind. On the Easter[50] of May 14th I took more than five pounds’ weight of the water of Bernabo, my glass holding somewhat more than a pound. Here the four chief feasts of the year are all called Easter. The Italian pound contains only twelve ounces. Living is very cheap in this place. The best and most delicate veal can be bought for three French sous a pound, and the trout are abundant, though small. Here are made excellent sunshades, which everybody uses. The country round is hilly, and level roads are scarce; nevertheless, many of them are very pleasant, and they are for the most part paved until they become mountain paths. After dinner the country people danced together, and I joined in the sport so as not to seem over ceremonious. In certain parts of Italy, and everywhere in Tuscany and Urbino, the women make salutation in French fashion by bending the knees.
Close to the outflow of the Della Villa spring is a marble tablet, which was put up a hundred and ten years ago, dating from the first day of May last, inscribed with an account of the healing powers of the water. I omit this, as it may be found in divers printed books dealing with the baths of Lucca[51]. At all the baths they provide plenty of hour-glasses for public use. I had always on my table two, which were lent to me. This evening I ate nothing but three slices of toasted bread with a little butter and sugar, and did not drink at all.
On the Monday, deeming that I had been enough purged by the water from the Bernabo spring, I returned to the Della Villa and took five pounds thereof. This spring seemed to me cold in comparison with that of Bernabo, which indeed is only moderately hot, and much cooler than the water at Plombieres or the average of the springs at the Bagneres de Bigorre. Both of the springs did me much good, wherefore I feel that I have been a gainer in refusing credence to those physicians who recommend their patients to give up drinking at once, supposing that a cure be not effected the first day. On Tuesday, May 16th, according to the local custom, which seems to me an excellent one, I gave over drinking the water and remained in the bath an hour or more, having settled myself right under the conduit-pipe, because in the other parts of the bath the water seemed somewhat chilly. Being troubled continually with wind in the epigastrium and the intestines, and in less degree in the stomach—albeit without pain—I suspected that this discomfort was caused by the water, wherefore I gave up drinking it. This morning I found the bath particularly agreeable, and could easily have taken a nap there. It did not produce perspiration, but I had myself well rubbed, and then went to bed for a while.