A comical blind fellow, as he called himself, came begging after me in the streets. I was about to give him some money, but observed he had a marvellous instinct in stepping over all the puddles that lay in his way. I asked him how it happened that blind men never wet their feet. He answered that they could always smell the water. “Yes,” replied I, “and I can sometimes smell an impostor.” We went on as far as Perugia, an ancient Etruscan city, standing, as almost all these cities do, on the top of a hill, and having clean and neatly paved streets. The walls of this city are three thousand years old. In the morning our road descended the hills into a beautiful plain. The women were in the fields, spinning and tending sheep. We came in sight of the lake of Perugia, the ancient Thrasymenus, and found a thin white fog lying on the surface of the lake, just as it was on the morning of the terrible battle, when Hannibal overthrew the Romans with such slaughter that the rivulet, which flowed through the battle-field, ran with blood. It thence received the name of Sanguinetto, which it bears at this day.
This was the only fog I saw in Italy. Early in the forenoon, it vanished before the rays of the sun; and as we passed along the shores of the lake we contemplated with deep interest this fine sheet of water, diversified by a few little islands and skirted with green hills. All the scenery was rural, peaceful and soothing; and it was strange to think that on the verdant banks of this silvery lake, two mighty armies had once contended for the empire of the world! Beyond the lake, our path wound up a steep hill, where we stopped at the custom-house, for here we were to take leave of the Pope’s territory. While the officers were examining our passports, I read over Livy’s admirable description of the battle, the field of which lay directly at my feet. I could almost imagine I saw the furious hosts in actual conflict. The concluding passage is remarkable.
“Such was the terrible shock of the conflicting hosts, and so absorbed was every mind in the tumult of the battle, that the great earthquake of that day, which prostrated many cities in Italy, stopped the course of rivers, raised the ocean from its depths, and overthrew mountains,—passed unheeded by a single one of the combatants!”
A few miles brought us into Tuscany; and here we were struck with a remarkable improvement in the appearance of the people and the face of the country. The inhabitants are tidily dressed, clean and industrious. The roads are in excellent repair. The towns and villages are neat and thriving. The Tuscans, in fact, are the Yankees of Italy, and their country stands in much the same relation to the rest of the peninsula, that New England does to the other portion of the United States. It has a hard, rugged soil, and a comparatively cool climate. But the inhabitants are industrious, shrewd, inventive and persevering. They are also remarkable for their civil and obliging manners. It was a real enjoyment to see their cheerful faces after being accustomed to the sombre looks and reserved manners of the Romans.
All along the road were rows of mulberry trees, with vines gracefully trained in festoons from tree to tree. The hillsides were covered with olive groves. The oxen in the fields were all white, and curiously ornamented with headdresses of red tassels. From Castiglione, a little town on the top of a mountain, I had a most enchanting view of the Val di Chiana at my feet. It is skirted by lofty mountains and covered with rich green fields, dotted with innumerable white houses, that made me think of New England. From this place to Florence, the road goes constantly up and down hill, with perpetual variations of fine scenery, rich cornfields, vineyards, and hills crowned with groves of olive. We were now in the Val d’Arno, and saw additional marks of the industry of the Tuscan peasantry. All the productive land was under excellent cultivation, and the country-houses were neat, tidy and comfortable. I was struck with the peculiar shape of the chimneys, which are not, as with us, mere square blocks of masonry, but carved into graceful and picturesque shapes, like the turrets of a castle, so as to be highly ornamental. Two or three other large towns lay in our way, but my limits will not allow me here to describe them. The road led along the Arno, which is here a narrow stream, with high rocky banks. It is shallow, and little used for navigation above Florence.
This beautiful city is surrounded by lofty hills, covered with vineyards, olive groves, gardens, country seats and palaces. Everything around it is beautiful: the landscape is fresh, verdant and smiling; the buildings are neat and picturesque, and all looks thriving and comfortable. “Florence the fair” deserves her title. From the summit of one of the surrounding hills, you look down upon the white walls of the city, crowned with domes and towers, and trace the windings of the Arno into the rich green valley below. The interior does not disappoint these favorable impressions. The houses are all well built, and the streets neatly paved with flat stones, as smooth as a floor. This feature is characteristic of all the old Etruscan cities. Fellows with little donkey carts, brooms and shovels, are constantly going up and down the streets, picking up every particle of dust, so that the streets are kept perfectly clean. The smooth pavements make it impossible for horses to run fast over them, but so much the better for foot-passengers.
Florence is full of old palaces, with immense thick walls, and heavy, massive architecture. They are, in fact, so many castles, and were built in turbulent times, when the city was disturbed by civil wars and factions, and the nobles intrenched themselves in their castles. The eaves of the houses project six or eight feet; and during showers you have little need of an umbrella, as the water shoots from the roofs into the middle of the street. All the buildings are of stone: a brick is never seen, except occasionally for a hearth, or in the tiling of a floor. The fine buildings are for the most part of macigno, a stone much like Quincy granite in color, but not so hard. The common houses are of rough stone, stuccoed and painted. The Duomo or cathedral, is cased with panels of black and white marble. It is a stupendous and imposing edifice, but, though begun five or six hundred years ago, it is not yet finished. The front, which was designed to be the most splendid part of the edifice, is a mere plastered wall, because the builders could not decide upon anything rich enough at first, and so left it to their posterity to finish.
The Florentines seem never to sleep except from dinner-time to sunset. All night long they are in the streets, singing and pursuing their amusements. Midnight is the noisiest portion of the twenty-four hours. People in the streets, however, are never rude or offensively boisterous; they are only merry and jovial. Nothing can be more civil and decorous than their behavior, both out of doors and in. A female, young or old, may walk the whole length of the city at any hour of the night without fear of being insulted. There was a great gala during my stay here, on occasion of the grand duke’s wedding. All the population was collected at the Cascine, or public gardens, just without the city gates. The festivities were kept up all night: the trees were hung with thousands of colored lamps; tables were spread everywhere, and universal merrymaking and jollity prevailed till the morning light. During all these diversions I did not witness a single act of rudeness or impropriety of behavior on the part of any person. No noisy brawling, drunken revelry, indecent language or impertinent puppyism of demeanor, such as are too apt to disgrace popular assemblages of miscellaneous persons in other countries.
Our Leghorn straws come chiefly from Florence. A great part of the employment of the poorer classes of the city and neighborhood is braiding straw. There are also many manufacturers of silk here. In the market you may see, every day, bushels of cocoons brought in by the country people for sale. There appears, however, to be little wholesale business done here; most of the traders being small shopkeepers. Living is cheaper than even at Rome, with the single exception of house-rent, but that is not extravagant. There is quite an appearance of wealth here: the number of carriages kept by private persons is surprising. Almost all have livery servants and footmen, and you see these great strapping fellows, in regimentals and cocked hats, with swords at their sides, engaged in the exalted employment of standing behind a carriage, opening doors and holding ladies’ parasols. The cost of keeping a coach, two horses and a coachman is about a dollar a day! The common soldier’s pay is about a cent per day.
I cannot stop to describe the pictures and statuary of this city, though these are the very things which bring most travellers to Florence. Even without these attractions the place would be the most agreeable residence in all Italy. The government is liberal to foreigners, well knowing that they spend much money here. The inhabitants are exceedingly civil and obliging, both from native amiability of disposition, and the wish to keep good customers among them. In consequence of this, Florence has always a great many foreigners permanently residing in the city and neighborhood. The banks of the Arno, above the city, and the hill on the slope of Fiezoli are covered with elegant villas, many of which are inhabited by English residents.