The next morning the comtesse and I devoted some time to the mysteries of shopping before proceeding to her sister's, whose daughter's wedding presents were to be displayed to us. The arcades or portici which line the Strada di Po, and the Piazza di Castello, a really magnificent square, are the resort of all the fashionable idlers of both sexes in Turin, and, lined on one side by handsome shops, open on the other to the light and air, sheltered alike from rain and sun, really form a very attractive promenade. As the belles flit from magasin to magasin, undulating in a maze of crinoline and flounces, they have the satisfaction of knowing that they are passed in review by the loungers at the cafés, as numerous under the arcades as in every other part of the town; the most redoubted of these tribunals of criticism and gossip being the Café Fiorio, frequented by the cream of the aristocracy. Even the comtesse, who, though not old, was singularly void of pretension, and quiet in her deportment, thought it necessary to evince some timidity at encountering this ordeal.
“When I am alone, madame, I always make a great détour to avoid passing before Fiorio's. It is astonishing what remarks are made by those messieurs, and what stories they contrive to get hold of. When there is nothing else to be said, they pull one's toilette to pieces, and are merciless if everything is not perfectly fresh and in good taste. I assure you the expense of dress now amongst us is positively frightful; and those, like me, who have not a large income, are almost compelled to renounce going much into society, unless indeed they do as some I could point out to you,—run up bills for twenty or thirty thousand francs, which their husbands will eventually be compelled to pay, at great sacrifice and inconvenience probably; for we have not fortunes in Piedmont like your English nobility.”
“It is a pity that men by their fastidiousness contribute to this extravagance.”
“Undoubtedly it is, but there is no reasoning on the subject. A mad desire for spending seems to pervade all ranks. Even in the bourgeoisie a taste for luxury and elegance has of late exhibited itself which is appalling. The wives of shopkeepers who, ten or fifteen years ago, would have esteemed themselves happy with a simple cotton print, a freshly-ironed cap, and a black silk apron, for their Sunday costume, now sweep along the Rue du Po in brocades of the value of three or four hundred francs, and with feathers in their bonnets!”
“Still, comtesse, as the example comes from above, it is not surprising it should find imitators.”
“Ah, chère, that is just one of the ideas of the day! For my part, I cannot understand why difference of rank should not be marked as it used to be by regulations as to dress. We should see some curious transformations then!”
By this time we had left the dreaded Fiorio's some way behind, and coming upon another café of less dazzling celebrity, the open doors and windows of which gave pleasant glimpses of spacious saloons with gilded ceilings and mirrors, crimson velvet sofas, and a profusion of little circular marble tables, the comtesse proposed that we should enter and refresh ourselves with an ice, Turin etiquette not imposing the necessity of male escort on such occasions.
Though the Anglo-Piedmontese Gallenga, rendered fastidious by a quarter of a century's sojourn in England, complains, in his recent work on his native country, of the tawdriness and dirt of the Turin cafés, they were so superior, in my humble scale of comparison, to those of the other parts of Italy where I had resided, that I found them most welcome and inviting. There was a luxurious sense of repose in looking forth upon the fierce sunshine on the Piazza di Castello through the softened twilight in which we sat, discussing, for the moderate consideration of twenty centimes each, two pyramidical masses of crême à la vanille, while plants and flowers in the window-sills, without impeding the view of the busy life without, screened those within from the gaze of the passers-by. In such an atmosphere the dolce far niente would have seemed likely to predominate, but I noticed in the people as they came and went, in the earnestness with which they read the newspapers, the quick, short sentences in which they commented to each other on their contents, even while sipping the mixture of coffee and chocolate which is the favourite beverage of the Turinese, a certain air of decision and promptitude not elsewhere to be found in Italy. Men of every grade were amongst them, from those pointed out to me by the comtesse in a whisper as senators and deputies, to some whose dress would have required no sumptuary laws to define their position. I also observed that Italian was almost universally spoken, the Piedmontese patois comparatively rarely, French not at all. This was an indication of the café's politics. By the persevering use or rejection of the Italian language, political sentiments in this country can be pretty well ascertained. The ministry, bent on its general adoption, have caused it to be substituted in the infant schools for the native dialect, of all the dialects of the peninsula the most guttural and the most mutilated, an innovation the wisdom of which it requires thorough stiff-necked codino-ism not to recognise. Instead of learning to read, as was formerly the case, in a tongue only partially understood, for no books are, or used to be, printed in Piedmontese, children are familiarized with Italian as the preliminary step. In every department over which its influence extends the Government shows the same desire; the circulation of newspapers, the presence of the emigrati, and the discussions in the chambers powerfully assisting its endeavours, which have only failed with the aristocracy. Hence Italian is much more spoken by the middle than the higher classes in Turin.
But I have digressed, while, to finish my picture, it must be added that there was less talking among the visitors at the café than would have been possible in central or southern Italy, and but little lounging. Though a few appeared listless and unemployed, to the majority time was evidently not a worthless commodity; even in the ten minutes we passed there, some of the tables near us had more than once changed occupants.
“Allons donc,” said the comtesse; “what shall we do now? Stay, there is the jeweller's where I must execute a commission for my sister, and then, if you please, we will pay her our visit.”