Mrs W. Thank you. Good-morning. (Shakes hands, and exit.)
In this manner, and through similar interruptions, much of the banker's time is taken up, till near three o'clock, which is the general dinner-hour at the baths. Many people are supplied with this renovating meal from the Europa Hotel at the Ponte, which is presided over by one of the most honest, obliging, indefatigable, and enterprising landlords in existence. Not only has he the direction of three hotels at the Ponte, two of them off-shoots from the parent Europa, but he undertakes the herculean task of daily sending forth thirty-six dinners to different families; the whole requiring a combination of artistic resource and fertility of intellect that fully justifies his right to the appellation bestowed on him by the ex-duke—that of 'the Napoleon of inn-keepers.' These repasts are conveyed in large tin boxes, containing warm embers, on which are placed the various dishes of which the dinner is composed; and they are carried to their destinations on the heads of divers active, nimble-footed marmitons. As the hour of three approaches, numbers of these emissaries are seen gliding swiftly along the roads; and I never yet encountered one without comparing him to the slave who appeared at the bidding of the Genius of the Lamp, and bore a sumptuous banquet to the presence of Aladin.
After thus recruiting the inward man, the whole population of the baths seem suddenly to kindle into activity; and soon after five every one is astir. Some ride, some drive, some walk. You see every variety of conveyance, from the last London-built carriage, and livery servants, to an unpretending one-horse timonella; and in the same manner amongst the equestrians, the most ill-favoured little pony, its rider equipped in a straw-bonnet, with a shawl pinned across the saddle, will unblushingly thrust itself into companionship with a handsome English horse, whose owner is graced by the most unexceptionable habit and other appliances. Even the very donkeys walk along with dignified resolution, as if determined to ruffle it with the best, and not yield an inch of their prerogative. In fact, they evidently know their own value, and remember that not one of the hills around—not the giant tree on the heights of Lugliano, nor the tempting strawberry-gardens on the mountain of Benabbio—could be attained without their help. A few veteran ponies, it is true, now claim equal sureness of foot, but the popular feeling still leans towards the long-eared auxiliaries, who always lead the way on such excursions, displaying an accuracy of judgment which would not discredit their far-famed relations in the frightful passes of the Andes.
Thus the evening wears on; gradually the children and babies disappear from the scene; then follow the invalids, who had ventured out to sun themselves in the genial afternoon; and soon parties of riders are seen returning, their laughter and cheerful voices sounding pleasantly on the ear, leading one to fancy there may be some happy people after all! It is amusing, too, to watch some of those on foot, who stop in their homeward way, and peer wistfully over a range of green palisades, that border the road in the vicinity of the Villa, and through a screen of spreading foliage, catch tempting glimpses of a winding path and veranda-like portico, where there are birds, and flowers, and vases, and which leads the way to a perfect Tusculum within. This dwelling is an object of interest to all the visitors at the baths; and if, like the banker's client, they have been unsuccessful in their overtures to procure access to its circle, they sometimes, nevertheless, hover curiously in the neighbourhood, and are disposed to be indignant at not having an 'open sesame' to its doors.
But as night begins to close, even these dissatisfied pedestrians must hasten their steps, for it is near tea-time, and almost every one at the baths has some one else to spend the evening with him. There is always a vast demolition of cold chickens, and cakes, and preserves, and then a little music, and a little conversation, and an immense deal of gossip. The general complaint is, that the place is rather dull; and, indeed, it must be owned, that formerly there were more facilities for spending a gay season than at present.
Some years ago, when the ex-duke came with his little court, weekly balls were given at his residence, as well as at the Casino. But all these scenes of pleasure have now passed away. The Grand-duke of Tuscany, the present possessor of Lucca, has at this moment weightier cares to occupy his attention than the summer amusements of a watering-place; the Casino, so long the opprobrium of the baths, is now closed—it is to be hoped for ever; and the English Club, or Cercle de Réunion, though at present in every respect flourishing, has had too much experience of the ungracious office of giving evening parties, to be inclined to resume the attempt.
The diversions of Lucca during the last summer were judicially limited to rides and quiet tea-parties, and it may be said, that before eleven o'clock every social réunion breaks up. About ten o'clock, in fact, the shawling processes commence; and servants are seen escorting home their padroni, holding lanterns carefully near the ground, to guard against the contingency of their stepping on the toads, which disport themselves in all the lanes at night, and are of the size of respectable tortoises.
Then gradually the lights in every window disappear, fewer and fewer voices are borne upon the breeze, and ere the midnight bell has tolled, all is darkness and repose.