"In the public square it is common, once or twice a week, to see a quack doctor, seated in his chaise or gig, haranguing the crowd, with the most impassioned language and gestures: at one corner of his carriage is a banner consisting of a hideous portrait of an old monk, from whom he professes to have learned his precious secrets in the healing art; occasionally he displays a book of botanical engravings, gaily coloured, to show his knowledge of nature and his reliance on the bounty of Providence, invoking frequently the name of the Blessed Virgin, and reverently taking off his hat, in which he is imitated by the faithful around him. At the end of his discourse he produces his medicines, which are eagerly bought by the credulous.
"Occasionally, too, a dentist appears, on horseback, with an attendant, likewise on horseback, who, in a similar manner, but with an eloquence more voluble, and language more refined, expatiates on his well known skill and experience; and then, to suit his action to the word, proceeds to draw the teeth gratuitously of any that may present themselves at the left side of his horse, to the amount of five or six. It is surprising with what dexterity he performs the act, without moving from his saddle. Afterwards, if any one wants the assistance of the accomplished dentist, he must be sought at his lodgings."
The number of beggars, though great in itself, is small, when compared to that at Rome. Every place, too, is crowded with persons who pester you with knives, razors, and combs—linens, silks, and cloths—cravats, shawls, and rugs—alabaster carvings, and every thing that can be carried about by hand, which they persecute you to buy in spite of your no, no, which means nothing to them. Experienced Italians send off the dirty fellows with a "caro mio"—"no, my dear, I am not in want of it." The streets are kept remarkably clean, and the houses are generally substantial and well built, but less ornamented with stucco and sculpture, than those of Rome. The public edifices are remarkable rather for massive strength than architectural beauty, looking more like fortresses than palaces, and black with stone and time. There are numerous fountains scattered through the city; but, amidst the abundance of bronze and marble ornaments which they exhibit, the stream of water they pour out is extremely insignificant. The coffee-houses are well served, the favourite ices are made with clean ice taken from the streams, instead of the frozen and dirty snow collected in the mountains, which is used at Rome. In all public places of resort, are seen quantities of beautiful and fragrant flowers, the delight of the Florentines; and men are everywhere met who carry baskets of them, which are offered not only to the ladies, but are presented bunch after bunch, with the most persevering assiduity, to gentlemen who are sipping their coffee, eating their ice-creams, or reading the papers.
While Mr. Peale was in Florence, he had the good fortune to witness the powers of the most celebrated improvisatrice of the day, Rosa Taddei, of Naples. Her performances took place at the principal theatre, two or three times on each occasion, but with intervals of several days:—
"When the curtain rose, the scene was that of a parlour, with an open piano, at which a professor of music was seated. On the entrance of Rosa Taddei, she was greeted with loud applause by her old friends and confiding expectants. She appeared to be about thirty years of age, and, though small, her uncorsetted chest gave ample space for the important action of her powerful lungs. She was dressed as a private lady. Her pale face indicated a studious life, but her forehead was low and narrow, though her head was broad; her little sunken eye was quick in its movements, and when it looked intently out, to fashion the measure of a thought, was accompanied by a slight contraction of the brow that banished all suspicion of coquetry. Her nose was small, and her mouth would be called ordinary; but when it was about to speak, it quivered delicately with the rising emotion, and varied its expression according to the passion of her discourse.
"A servant now advances to the front of the stage, holding a little casket, destined to received the papers which are handed from different parts of the house, containing subjects proposed for recitation. When about forty of these are received, the casket is placed on a side table. Without reading them she folds and returns them to the casket. This is an operation of some time, and serves to give the appearance of business, and, perhaps, composure to the performer. Advancing to the side boxes and orchestra, she offers successively to different persons the casket, out of which, each time, a paper is drawn and presented to her. With a grave, deliberate, and emphatic voice she reads the theme proposed. If the subject is hackneyed, dull, or unfit, a lamentable and deep-toned ah! synonymous with our bah! is heard from various parts of the house; on which she tears up the paper with an impressive look, which seems to say—such is your pleasure. When six or seven subjects are approved by the cries of yes, yes, she places them on her side table, selects one, and, advancing to the piano, decides upon a musical harmony, which the professor immediately begins to play, and continues delicately; during which she walks in measured steps across the stage backwards and forwards, looking earnestly down, occasionally pausing, sometimes raising her hand to her mouth or forehead. The crowded house is silent as death, and she is only influenced by the measure of the music and the arrangement of her unseen materials of thought. This being completed, she suddenly advances, and begins with a burst of language, in which she continues with unhesitating volubility and moderate action, occasionally uttering some fine expression that draws forth from experienced critics an approving bravo! It was to be remarked, that as she advanced to the termination of every line, couplet, or stanza, according to the compass of the sentiment, there was a dwelling on the syllables and a monotonous chanting, very much resembling the cadence of a Quaker preacher; thereby permitting her thoughts to advance and fashion the commencement of the following line, couplet, or stanza, which was always eagerly and expressively pronounced at its commencement, and as regularly terminated in the thought-resolving chant.
"Among the subjects which she treated, some of which she began with little preparation, were the following:—The discoveries of Galileo and Columbus, and the ingratitude of their country; two Doctors, a Lawyer and Jealous Woman; a Lawyer's Inkhorn; and a Dialogue between the Dome of St. Peter and the Dome of Florence. This last appeared to perplex her a little, and it was some time before she could fashion it to her mind; indeed, there was an expectation, from the frequency of her turns across the stage, and her contracted brow, that she would be obliged to acknowledge a failure; but when she advanced and began in elegant strains to state the difficult nature of the singular task imposed on her, to give tongues to the domes so long silent, and listen to so distant a dialogue between the Duomo, the boast of Florence, and the Dome of St. Peter, suspended in mid air by the divine Buonarotti; and then with increasing enthusiasm, made them recount, in strains of honourable emulation, the great events of which they had been the witnesses, the delight of the audience knew no bounds in the thundering repetitions of bravo!
"Some of the pieces she composed with terminating words, suggested by acclamation from the audience as she proceeded; other pieces were so conceived as to introduce a particular word into every stanza, proposed by any voice at its commencement. It was a singular and interesting exhibition, in which a little feeble woman, during a whole evening, could afford the most refined entertainment to a crowded theatre. Such is the homage paid to mental superiority."
From Florence, Mr. Peale proceeded to Pisa, and thence along the plains or alluvial grounds between the mountains and the Mediterranean, on the road to Genoa. At Carrara, he visited and examined the studios and work-shops, where the various works in the marble of the celebrated quarries are made. This marble is obtained in the ravines of the mountains, from two to five miles distant from the town. It is generally taken from their base, but frequently great masses are tumbled from situations many hundred feet high, to which the labourers are an hour in ascending, and where they work with cords around them, to secure them against the danger of falling. The whitest marble is found only in occasional layers, some at the base of the mountain is most beautifully so.
On entering Genoa, the streets through which Mr. Peale passed, though of moderate width, presented the appearance of much magnificence, being lined with the palaces of the king and nobles. In other parts he remarked, however, but little of the splendour which would entitle it to be called a city of palaces; the houses are in general plain and high, and the passages of communication wide enough only for persons on foot.